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Alex didn’t remember falling asleep.
He must have, though, because he wakes with a start as the sound of what may be an ambulance racing toward an emergency or a rocket launching—but, in reality, is probably just his daughter. The decibels which leave her little lungs would be seriously impressive if he weren’t so terrified.
Muscle memory must take over, because he grabs the baby monitor before he can even consciously think to do so, he wipes the half dried drool from the corner of his mouth with what has to be the burp cloth he was meant to be folding as he fell asleep, and heads toward Ziggy’s room. By the time he gets there, she’s worked herself into a sitting position. Each of her tiny, chunky baby fists are clenched around a bar of her crib and, even in the dim light that shines through her open door from the hallway, he can see her face is red with the force each of her screams take to produce. She looks like she’s in baby jail and Alex truly does not know how his heart has survived the last few days without bursting.
All he knows is that if it were possible to sue whatever caused his perfect nine month old daughter to have her first ear infection, he’d have done it by now.
When Alex picks her up and flicks on the lamp next to their rocking recliner he sees both snot and tears have already covered the front of her sleep sack. It’s quite possibly the most pathetic thing he’s ever seen, and he was there when Henry tried to fold himself into the toddler sized bed in the emergency room when they had to take her in two nights prior after she wouldn’t stop screaming.
“Ssssshh,” he hums as he tries to unzip her as quickly as he can. He throws the sleep sack to the floor without a second thought and moves the burp cloth still in his hand to her face to try to clear what’s there as he starts to slowly rock her. “Oh, cariño, I know.”
He pulls out his phone and checks the time, his heart sinking when he sees it’s still another hour before she can have her next dose of pain medication. The doctor in the ER had said the antibiotics could take a few days to kick in. In the meantime, they should try to make sure to keep her hydrated and wait for the medicine to work its magic and come back if they couldn’t break her fever. But fuck if that isn’t easier said than done when the person you loved most in the world is so miserable.
“I know, baby girl. I know,” he repeats, rocking her slowly in vain attempts to sooth her. He moves his hand to brush against her forehead, and it feels hotter than he’d like. “I’m so sorry, Ziggs, but we gotta go take your temp.”
Alex allows himself 15 seconds to lean his head back and stare up at her ceiling—a mural Pez had commissioned for their baby shower made to look like a night sky, with a deep navy ombre and all the constellations Henry loves to tell her about speckled in white. Ziggy’s very own little stardust.
Then, his 15 seconds are up and he swoops into super dad mode.
He changes her diaper as Ziggy squirms around on the changing mat, and then since she’s still crying he decides he might as well break out the baby snot sucker to try to clear her little nostrils. He certainly won’t break it out once she stops crying, knowing it’s a surefire way to make her little screams begin again.
Settling her on one hip once he's done, Alex rubs her back as he walks down to the kitchen to find the thermometer and deeply regrets accidentally falling asleep during her nap when he sees the state of it.
“You’re going to hate this,” he says with a wince as he takes Ziggy’s temperature. And when it’s, unsurprisingly, 101.4 despite around the clock acetaminophen for the last several days, Alex does the only thing he can think of.
Walking back upstairs, he strips off both of their clothes and turns the shower on. Stepping into the lukewarm water makes him tense slightly, but as he holds his daughter to his chest and lets it fall over her back, he can almost physically feel the heat wafting off her body.
Ziggy’s screams slow, and soon her tiny little body is only rocking with the occasional stutter. A few stray tears still escape the eyes that are a carbon copy of Henry’s, but she’s clearly calmed down a fair bit. If Alex had to wager a bet he’d guess the water broke her temperature, so he steps out of the shower and pats them both dry with a fluffy towel. A glimpse in the mirror shows their matching curls are equally erratic and the dark bags under Alex’s eyes didn’t reduce any from his cat nap on the couch, but he can’t be bothered with doing anything but sliding his dirty joggers back on. He’s not convinced he’d have any clean underwear in the drawer if he went back to his room, anyway, so he puts a diaper on Ziggy and makes his way back down to the kitchen since he can finally give her the next dose of acetaminophen.
“C’mon, cariño, please can you open up?” He finally is able to shove the syringe in her mouth, emptying it as quickly as she can swallow. “That’s it, sweet girl. Just like that for Papa.”
Once the meds are given, Alex puts some Pedialyte in a bottle for her and sways her back and forth gently while she sucks it down. Deciding to avoid upsetting her further by getting the thermometer out again, he touches her forehead and it feels close enough to normal that he decides to just get her into clean pajamas and a new sleep sack from the pile of laundry he still hadn’t gotten around to folding.
“Now, Ziggs, this has got to be our little secret, okay? Because I am fairly certain your Dad would divorce me for putting on anything other than the original—but that one doesn’t really fit the vibe check right now, a’ight?”
Connecting his phone to the portable speaker in the living room, Alex flips to Spotify and starts an acoustic cover of Ziggy Stardust by Margot & The Nuclear So and Sos. He quietly sings along, swaying around the small open space in a bad approximation of a waltz he’d learned for his and Henry’s first dance.
When the song ends, Spotify shuffles and Alex hears a quick drum beat in succession before horns join in and a smile takes over his face despite the ear infections and the lack of sleep and the responsibilities he’s been ignoring for the better part of three days due to said ear infections and lack of sleep.
“ Ooh, child, things are gonna get easier ,” he sings along. “ Ooh child, things will get brighter. Ooh child, things are gonna get easier .”
Alex continues rocking Ziggy as he softly sings, and each blink of her eyes gets slower. “ Some day when your head is much lighter; some day, yeah, we’ll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun ,” he hums, turning as he sways.
Her eyes are finally staying closed and he wants to hit that sweet spot to get her down in the crib before she gets too used to using his bare chest as a pillow and he gets nap trapped. Alex turns to head upstairs but comes face to face with Henry. Henry, who is standing in the doorway with tears clear in his eyes.
Some day when the world’s much brighter dies on his lips.
Alex’s first instinct is to go to him, but after finally getting Ziggy to sleep he can’t risk waking her up. He tries to communicate with Henry with no words, hoping that his husband will understand the combination of bringing his index finger to his mouth in a shushing motion, followed by pointing at Ziggy and then up the stairs with mouthing “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” will get his point across.
When he finally gets back downstairs, baby monitor in tow, Landslide by Fleetwood Mac has taken over playing. Henry sits on the side of their sectional not overrun by a half-folded pile of Ziggy's clean laundry looking shell shocked but less like he is moments away from his body racking with sobs. Wishing he'd spent an extra minute to grab a t-shirt while upstairs, he pulls one of the blankets from the couch and moves to sit next to his husband. Alex pulls his phone out to stop the music.
“So, were the tears about my poor pitch or that the house is still a disaster?” He tries to joke, but Henry barely cracks a smile. Now that he's right next to him, Alex can see that Henry’s eyes are lined with red but don’t yet have that faraway look they get on really bad days.
He settles in close, turning the volume on the baby monitor up and placing it on the coffee table in front of them. He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and presses it against the top one, trying to stay quiet for a moment to let Henry gather his thoughts.
“Dad used to sing us that song,” he murmurs eventually. “He did a lot, actually. But there was this one specific time. I, er… I’d come home from Eton for Christmas my first year there an utter mess and when break was coming to an end I was refusing to go back.”
Shifting even closer to him, Alex laces his fingers through Henry’s and squeezes.
“Pip was home from uni, too, and Bea as well. As much as I like to blame the cancer for our relationship falling apart, things between us were already getting more tense. I was still so young and already a little lost even before everything went to shite, and he… well, he was becoming more like future king Philip than my big brother as he got older. He started yelling at me, telling me to grow up and start acting like a man and Dad kind of lost it. He didn’t do that often, but he always took it hard when we fought.”
Henry sinks further into the couch and takes a deep breath. Then he pulls Alex’s hand to his lips and places a kiss on his knuckles before continuing, “Anyway, Dad yelled at both of us and then clearly immediately felt horrible, so he apologized too. He grabbed Mum and Bea and brought us all into the music room and pulled out his old Five Stairsteps record.”
He tells Alex about how the record jacket was signed by the whole band, about how he’d handed Bea her guitar and asked if she’d play along. How Bea had agreed, even though she’d already started to distance herself from music and settled with Catherine on the couch to play along.
“He pulled Pip and I under each of his arms and stared pointedly until we wrapped each other up on the other side, too. And then he sang the whole song with me pressed against his chest, and god, Alex, walking into this house and seeing you do the same thing with Ziggy…”
The tears return to his eyes, which along with how his voice starts to break is altogether too much for Alex to handle. He pulls Henry into his lap even though he definitely doesn’t fit and wraps his arms around him in a tight hug.
It’s not often Alex knows how to shut up, but right now he knows Henry needs this more than any words he could offer.
“I had forgotten completely,” Henry finally whispers. “I didn’t even remember that song existed, let alone how often I’d heard him sing it to me when I was sick or sad or just because. So, thank you. For reminding me.”
“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” Alex finally says.
“I think I do, actually. I get so in my head sometimes,” he responds. “Thinking about all the things I wish I could ask him about being a dad, worrying that I’ll never be able to measure up and be as good a dad to Ziggs as he was for us–”
Alex finally pulls back from the hug, needing to look him in the eye as he interrupts.
“Hen–”
“No, Alex, stop, you don’t have to convince me otherwise. That’s the point—just existing, you make it easier. Remind me of him without even trying, without ever having gotten to meet him. I don’t even have to wonder what he would’ve thought of you. I just know he’d have loved you so bloody much.” A twinkle returns to Henry’s eye before he smirks and adds, “Plus, I realized a few months ago that no matter what happens, the point is moot. I’m at a distinct disadvantage in that I’m up against Alexander ‘competition is my middle name’ Claremont-Diaz for the title of best dad. I was always destined to lose, and, for the record, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I still take issue with how much pressure you put on yourself, but point taken,” he says with a smirk, happy to see Henry’s feeling okay enough to joke around. They’re both quiet for a beat too long before Alex can’t help but add, “I love him, too, you know. He raised my favorite person.”
“Yes, well, I do believe Ziggy is my favorite person right now considering you didn’t finish the laundry you promised to have done this morning.”
Alex’s jaw quite literally drops. “So he’s got jokes, too!”
“Maybe you can finish that while I go and do the washing up for what I’m sure are your many, many coffee mugs,” Henry says, moving to unfold himself from Alex’s lap.
Not only to be contrary, but also because he can’t help doing so, Alex tightens his grip around Henry’s waist and pulls him back to his chest before pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. There’s no heat behind it—they really do need to finish the dishes and laundry—but it’s enough to show Henry how he feels.
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too,” Henry murmurs before placing one more kiss on Alex’s lips.
After he finishes with folding the clothes, Alex leaves them in the basket to follow into the kitchen and help Henry. He fills him in on the going ons of his day with Ziggy. They’re just about to fall together onto the couch and put on an episode of Bake Off when the baby monitor screen turns on and they hear the momentary crackle that usually proceeds cries.
Instead, what they hear is a slightly distorted voice chirp “Da-da.”
Their eyes find each other instantly.
“Did she just…?” Henry starts to say before cutting himself off, seemingly afraid of jinxing something.
“Say your name?” Alex fills in. “Yeah, I think sh–”
The monitor comes back to life, and Alex’s mouth snaps shut.
“Da-da-da-da-da-da,” Ziggy’s sweet little voice nearly sings. It’s like music to Alex’s ears, and he’s up and off the couch running to her room at a faster speed than he had even managed earlier—which is, on its own, a feat he’s quite proud of.
When he gets up to her room, Ziggy is sitting up again. This time, though, when he turns on the lamp she’s smiling up at him. Pulling her into his arms, Alex turns to head back to Henry. A quick hand to her forehead feels cooler than it has in days, and he’s never been so happy that antibiotics exist.
“Hiya there, cariño,” he coos. “What was that? Can you say that again for me, you perfect little genius?”
Henry is at the top of the staircase, just in time to meet eyes with Ziggy as she lights up with a smile and says, “Da-da!”
“That’s right, darling,” Henry smiles, opening his arms up when he reaches them. Luckily they’re close, because Ziggy practically launches herself into his arms. “Dada is home.”
“Favorite dad, my ass,” Alex grumbles.
He’s pretty sure the smile he can’t keep off his face gives away that this is one competition he doesn’t mind losing.