Bossy Little Shit - Baby D
Damian is a willful baby and Jason’s reflexes aren’t up to snuff.
This was sort of inspired by this absolutely adorable picture that Kiwi did for me (it can be seen as the aftermath of this fic) and I hope this is a suitable work in response.
Babies are supposed to sleep as much as cats do, Jason thinks to himself as he watches Damian crawl around the floor of the living room in hotel suite in the good part of Star City where they’ve been living in for almost three weeks.
Everything that Jason knows about babies (which isn’t a whole lot) says that he’s supposed to have a small and quiet bundle of joy on his hands. His son is supposed to sleep often, eat plenty, and just start figuring out how to scoot around the room. Damian is supposed to be no trouble at all, a cute little baby that’s just a little too smart for his age.
Instead, Jason finds himself with a ridiculously intelligent troll of a baby that can crawl around on the carpet almost faster than Jason can chase after him. And he’s getting tired.
“Come here, Damian,” Jason says as his son stands up starts to gnaw on the frayed end of a small decorative pillow that had fallen to the floor a few days ago. “That’s dirty, Damian.”
Damian looks up at Jason and then turns back to his prize, leaving a wet trail and teeth marks in the fabric. He’s been ignoring Jason regularly and the rebellion, while cute in a way, isn’t good for their relationship.
“Damian,” Jason says again, firming his voice without raising it, “I said come here.”
Jason points at the section of carpet next to where he’s sitting on the floor and then frowns at Damian as the chubby little infant stares at him with wide eyes. It’s one of the few times that Jason has spoken harshly to Damian and from the way that the baby’s bottom lip trembles and his fingers start to tremble around the pillow in his hands, it’s probably going to be the last time for a while at least.
Jason gets up on his hands and knees and makes to crawl towards Damian.
It’s a mistake.
Damian flinches and then wobbles on his shaky little legs. Jason is fast, but he’s still not fast enough to catch his son before the baby drops down on the carpeted floor bottom first. The side of Damian’s head smacks into the front of the couch with a soft thud right before Jason reaches him.
At first, Damian doesn’t cry. He looks at Jason with wide blue eyes as his bottom lip pushes out and at first, Jason thinks that Damian is okay, that he’s not hurt at all.
And then the screaming starts.
Damian doesn’t do anything quietly and crying is no exception. He starts to rub the side of his head with one clenched fist as he wails, hiccupping cries echoing through the room as tears trickle down his chubby brown cheeks.
“Shh, Damian,” Jason says, his own voice coming out rough as he gathers his crying son up into his arms and sets about checking him for any serious injury. Damian fights him the whole time, smacking Jason with his fists and squirming around in an attempt to get loose. But Jason doesn’t let him go.
“It’s alright, Damian,” Jason promises as he feels around the spot where Damian’s head had connected with the couch. “You’re fine.” He holds the baby’s suspicious gaze as he rubs the back of Damian’s head and shoulders with one hand until Damian grunts and seems to relax a little bit.
“Baba?” Damian perks up a few seconds later, reaching for Jason’s face with his chubby little fingers. He pokes Jason in the cheek and then sort of throws himself forward so that he can get closer to his father. “Ba! Ba!”
Translating Damian’s babble into something useable had been hard, but Jason has to smile now at the way that Damian expects to be understood. “You’re hungry now aren’t you, little guy?” He rubs Damian’s stomach as he speaks and laughs as his son snorts and tries to wiggle away from him. “Let’s get you something to eat. I take it you want a bottle huh?”
Damian nods his head and then jams one of his thumbs into his mouth. “Gimme ba,” he orders, looking as bossy as a baby who still wears gigantic diapers can manage. “Then nap.”
Jason presses a kiss to Damian’s forehead and then pulls himself to his feet with the arm not wrapped around his son’s solid body.
“Bossy little shit,” he murmurs as Damian cuddles close and curls on spit-sticky hand in the front of his t-shirt. But he smiles as he says it, because Damian is growing so fast and so well.
Maybe he isn’t that bad with children after all…
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