Chapter Text
“No fair, you really know how to make me cry when you give me those ocean eyes.” — Billie Eilish, ocean eyes
Jay had always prided himself on his quick thinking, on his problem-solving. On his ability to handle himself in any situation and come out the other side relatively unscathed. He’d managed to fast-talk his way through some pretty hairy undercover operations, and he’d shot his way out of more than a few sandpits when he was still with the Rangers.
But he was feeling pretty useless at the moment. Useless, and out of his element.
His nine-month-old hadn’t stopped crying for twenty minutes. He wasn’t a newbie at this dad-gig, and he was perfectly capable of caring for his kid on his own, but he missed Hailey something fierce at the moment. She always knew what to do—she’d just tuck Lydia up under her chin and their little girl would quiet down like magic.
Nothing he’d tried so far had worked, though. Feeding, rocking, talking. Giving her a new binky, which she’d promptly spat out. Tucking her favorite elephant stuffie under her chin, which she’d thrown with surprising force. He’d even tried singing her the lullaby Hailey favored on sleepless nights, but he couldn’t hold a tune to save his life and he didn’t know the words—he didn’t speak Greek, and humming it just wasn’t the same, apparently.
“It’s okay, honey,” he whispered, swaying when Lydia let out a particularly loud shriek and batted her hand against his chest. “We’re okay, right? Yeah, we’re okay.”
Jay shifted her from the crook of his arm and let her press her little face into his neck. She subsided to a heart-wrenching whimper as she gripped the neck of his t-shirt in her tiny fist. He bobbed at the knees and rubbed her back in soothing circles, pressing his own face to the top of her head. She had a light dusting of dirty blonde hair, and she smelled like her baby shampoo.
She blubbered morosely, and his heart clenched.
He looked around the living room, hoping a solution would hop out and bite him, but there was nothing except his and Hailey’s usual clutter. With a sigh, he walked through the living room and headed for the nursery. It was a bit darker in the nursery, and there was the fancy ceiling projector Kim and Adam had given them at the baby shower.
His daughter liked to watch the swirling colors and listen to the ambient white noise. Maybe it would help calm her.
The nursery door creaked when he pushed it open, and Lydia shrieked when he flipped on the small lamp. Jay switched on the projector and settled himself in the rocking chair in the corner. He adjusted her so she lay in the crook of his arm once again, and he let her grab hold of his fingers and pull them to her mouth as he rocked them back and forth.
She watched the swirling lights, blue eyes wide, but she continued to sniffle.
“I miss Momma, too,” he whispered, “but Momma deserves a day with her friends, right?”
Lydia looked up at him with a pitiful little cry like she’d understood exactly what he’d just said and didn’t agree at all. Tear tracks streaked her ruddy cheeks as she blubbered some more, and he trailed his finger across her cheeks. His daughter’s eyes were mirror images of her mother’s, and seeing those bright blue orbs full of tears tugged at something deep in his chest.
Watching Hailey cry was horrible enough, but watching his little girl cry felt worse than a bullet to the gut. (And he would know.)
He rocked some more, and as she continued to whimper, he felt more and more hopeless. He tipped his head back against the chair and realized something had been tossed over the back of it. With some careful maneuvering, he went to pull it out from behind him and toss it to the floor, but a whiff of Hailey’s perfume wafted off the fabric, and Jay was struck with an idea.
There was no way he could fit into any of Hailey’s clothes without ripping the stitches, but Jay managed to drape the crewneck over his chest, tossing the sleeves of the garment over his shoulder and leaning back against them. Lydia’s cries escalated when he held her away from him so he could flatten the fabric down his abdomen, but he was already bringing her back to his chest before she could start crying in earnest once again.
He shushed her gently as he situated her, holding her close against Hailey’s crewneck. She gripped the red fabric in her tiny fist and with a final little murmur, she went silent.
Success, Jay thought. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head and leaned his head back against the chair with a smile.
.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.
Hailey pulled her hair from its ponytail as she quietly shut the apartment door behind her. She kicked off her tennis shoes with a sigh and dropped her keys in the ceramic bowl on their entryway table with a clink.
The living room was silent and dark as Hailey padded through the apartment on socked feet. She grabbed one of Jay’s flannels off the back of the couch and peeked her head into their equally dark and silent bedroom. With a hum, Hailey crossed back through the living room towards the nursery, pulling on the flannel and picking Lydia’s elephant stuffie up off the floor as she went.
“Jay?” she called, voice pitched low in case her daughter was sleeping.
“In here, Hails,” Jay replied in a normal tone. She pushed open the creaky door and leaned against the doorjamb. Soft purple and pink lights danced across the ceiling, and they bathed Jay and a quietly babbling Lydia in a gentle glow. He was in the rocking chair, their little girl cradled against his chest.
“We survived,” he quietly joked.
“Was there ever any doubt you wouldn’t?” Hailey grinned as she walked up to him. She gently brushed a finger down their daughter’s cheek, and at the sight of Hailey, Lydia squealed happily and batted her fist against Jay’s chest in her excitement.
“It was touch and go for a while there,” Jay admitted with a smile of his own.
Hailey snorted a laugh and when Jay reached for her and pulled her closer, Hailey took the hint and perched sideways on his lap.
“Have fun?” Jay asked.
“Yeah,” she replied quietly. “Kim and Vanessa say hi. I missed you guys, though.”
He squeezed her hip. “We missed you, too.”
Hailey leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. She kept a hand on their daughter’s chest, and she wrapped her other arm around her husband’s neck. As she pressed closer, kissing him deeper, her fingers caught on something. With a contented sigh, she pulled away, fiddling with the fabric her hands had caught on when she’d tried to run her palms across the breadth of his shoulders.
“What…is this?” she asked. It was her crewneck, that much she knew as she tucked the sleeve back into place over his shoulder. She was just confused as to why he was wearing it like a blanket.
Lydia squealed again, and she clumsily reached for Hailey. Hailey, of course, couldn’t resist her request, and she pulled her little girl from Jay’s arms. She pinwheeled her little legs as Hailey pressed two smacking kisses to her chubby cheeks. Lydia settled against her chest with a happy babble, and she rested, open-mouthed and drooly, against Hailey’s collarbone.
Hailey leaned her shoulder against Jay’s chest, and he tugged her legs onto his lap. She let out a calming breath and pulled his arm tighter around her waist. She hadn’t forgotten her question, though, so she patted Jay’s chest and quirked her eyebrow.
He shrugged, and the apples of his cheeks turned a bit red. “She missed you, and I had to improvise. I told you it was touch and go for a while.”
Hailey furrowed her brows. “I won’t stay out so long next time. I’ll—”
“No, Hailey,” Jay interjected lowly. He shook his head and squeezed her hip a few times. “We were okay. I figured it out.”
Hailey tilted her head down and breathed in her baby’s sweet smell. “I’d rather be here, though.”
Jay pressed a kiss to her temple, and she felt his smile against her skin. “Well, I don’t have an argument against that.”
She smiled up at him and smoothed the sleeve of her sweatshirt over his shoulder. His hand was warm on her hip as he looked her over. Then he blinked, and tugged on the flannel she was wearing. “Is this mine?”