#ic ♤ teddy ♡ threads

[runcnlove]

❛ Papa! ❜

As soon as he was scooped up into his father's arms, safe and warm, and finally got to wrap his arms around his neck, feeling like he hasn't seen and hugged him for a whole eternity ( which… Teddy wasn't sure how long that big word was, but when his fathers used that word while telling him bedtime stories their tone suggested it was more than a few days, much, much more ), and bury his face into the crook of his neck, finding that there was a new smell that clung to him in addition to the clothes that weren't like anything he ever saw him wear before but underneath it he still smelled like Papa, like home and safety and laughter and magic, Teddy did what he held himself back from doing since the moment he realized he didn't know which way is home.

He burst into tears.

Loud and filled to the brim with anguish, with fear lived through sobs, the kind that made his chest hurt and his face heat up… because he was so so scared that he would never see his parents again, never find his way home, and he was trying to be brave about it but now that his misadventure was over, now that he was back in his father's arms, something he didn't think was possible anymore, it all just came pouring out.

( And the fact that he was exhausted, hungry and thirsty didn't help at all the way he felt )

❛ Papa..! ❜ he sobbed, holding on even tighter if that was possible, as if his very life depended on never letting go of his father again, and that was the most comprehensive word he spoke because then he dissolved into hiccuping blubbering, words like 'sorry', 'scared', 'run' and 'never' the only ones that could be more or less made out.

He was apologizing for running away and telling him how scared he was and that he was never going to run away without him or Dada again, never, never ever ever.

@runcnlove

Eliot walked into the main room of the Cottage. He wore the dark, formal Earth clothes that had been his staple since Q died he became a professor, hair he couldn't stand to let a stranger touch be bothered to cut tied back in a simple bun, reading glasses carelessly left on. His mind was mainly on the essays he was grading upstairs as he went to get water on autopilot. He looked up—and dropped the glass, shattering it. "Teddy‽" he asked incredulously. The son he'd never seen and yet remembered couldn't be here. He wasn't part of this time, this world, this reality. Eliot's brain, trained in a life of apocalypse after apocalypse, began to guess what might be happening. But—who cared? Q was—well, he wasn't. Eliot was researching fixing that, but…everyone had been so sure it would ruin everything. Eliot was so very, very good at ruining everything. Margo and Fen were MIA—it had been a full year since the attempted reconstruction of Fillory, and nothing. Eliot tried to tell himself they were just having some time sync issues, but it was hard to believe. All Eliot had these days was trying to keep baby Magicians from getting themselves killed being stupid and ever-weakening hope. This made it hard to care whether this was a dream, hallucination, or the cruel trick of some bastard who had a nefarious plan. It was his baby—Quentin's baby—right in front of him. Life was too fucking long to poke at this too hard.

He approached Teddy, arms outstretched to pick him up, smile more certain than he felt. "Hey, bud. What brings you here?"

Thread here.

[runcnlove]

@doorinthepage ( Eliot ) gets kind of a side thing to this because Teddy is a precious, helpful bean who wants his Papa to get better and was being very loud about it; also because Eliot deserves so be loved and cared for as much as possible

Teddy peaked into the bedroom, hugging Bae the Bear tightly to him with one arm, to find his Papa asleep, the sight making his brow furrow.

Papa has been staying in bed for the better part of the last couple of days. Sleeping, mostly, with Dada sitting beside him, a deep furrow etched between his brows, making him look so sad and so tired, it set Teddy's nerves on edge, too.

( The fact that the whole situation is reminding him more and more of when his Mama was sick right before she had to go away to a place so far away she couldn't come back didn't help at all )

Right now Dada is outside, though, for the first time in days, tending to Papa's garden, those plants that needed immediate attention. The colored tiles that have been as much a part of Teddy's life as bedtime stories are lying where Dada left them the first day Papa didn't get out of bed for breakfast, after finishing the latest picture – design, his parents called it – and tearing it all up, scattering the tiles around the base in such anger Teddy has only seen a handful of times from him ( mostly, after Mama got sick ).

Looking back over his shoulder to the front door of the cottage and seeing his Dada still kneeling on the ground beside one of the many garden beds surrounding their home, Teddy slipped into the bedroom and pattered softly over to the bed.

❛ Papa? ❜ he called but since he was trying to be quiet because Dada said they shouldn't talk too loudly when Papa is sleeping so as not to disturb his rest, the word ended up being barely audible and probably not enough to be picked up by another ear.

As such, he received no response, which worried him even more, because his parents usually responded when he called them ( even if it was a sleepy and barely intelligible not-quite-word, it was still a response ).

Mind in all honesty made up even before he crossed the threshold, Teddy pushed Bae the Bear up to rest against the pillow first and then climbed up on the bed himself, ending up sitting on his knees by his father's side.

❛ Papa, ❜ he whispered again and leaned in towards his father as if to share a secret, young voice full of innocent worry and yearning to help, ❛ Bae and I are here to take care of you. ❜

He then reached out to touch Papa's face, too pale yet his cheeks too red at the same time for his liking, but his fingers accidentally bumped into the cloth draped over Eliot's forehead to soothe his fever instead.

Finding it warm, Teddy pulled it off, distinctly remembering that it should be cold, looked around until he found the bowl filled with water perched on the bedside table and dropped the cloth into the bowl, water splashing a bit on the bed and on him, the way Dada did it.

Sloshing it around in the water, which wasn't cold but was definitely cooler than the cloth, for a bit, he pulled it out and was going to put it back on his father's forehead when he remembered that's not how he saw adults do it, be it his Dada or Papa or Mama.

Gripping the opposite ends of the cloth, he wrung it out over the bowl first, his hands too small and not as strong as adults' to squeeze out nearly as much water as necessary, so a couple of cool drops fell on Eliot's face, neck and rolled under his collar when Teddy folded the cloth neatly and draped it again over his father's forehead, patting it a couple of times for good measure.

The boy then curled up against his father's side and laid his head on his chest, right over his heart, blinking rapidly to get rid of tears welling hot in his eyes and making his chest feel tight.

❛ Papa, please, get better here, ❜ he murmured, sounding much more serious and heartbroken than a child should have any reason to, ❛ I don't want you to go away like Mama. I don't want to miss you, too. I don't want Dada to be so sad all the time and throw things again. ❜

Teddy then turned his head to bury his face into his father's shirt and wept, as much for his father's attention as because the worry and sadness he felt were so overwhelming, he had to let them out somehow.