#no archie here bc I'm pumping him for the OTHER prompt. stay tuned

[naivesilver]

Anddddd from the pregnancy and baby prompts, Could I maybe interest you with a AU Proposition that is no.11 or no.20 with Baby Cedar and the Pinocchio fam as a whole? 😏 (August centred with either Archie, Geppetto or both present if you'd like more than just the wooden mans) 👀

NOT GOING IN ORDER BECAUSE THIS ONE HAD ME LOOPING 🥰🥰🥰

Pregnancy and baby prompts

11. Being repeatedly astonished how tiny the baby is

“I think there was a mistake,” August whispers, more to himself than anything else. “There's no way she's mine.”

He feels his father shift position by his side, but doesn't dare look up just yet; up to this point, they'd each been minding their own business in silence, wary of waking up the slumbering beast in the younger man's arms. Cedar has such troubles falling asleep, be it day or night, that any impromptu naps need to be treated with the same caution one would use to defuse a bomb, and that means August is stuck on that couch for the foreseeable future - if he'd been an ounce smarter, he'd have avoided saying something so heavy, something that will certainly bring forth a conversation with a capital C. 

But of course, he messed that up, and of course, like clockwork, comes Geppetto's response, equally as quiet: “Whatever do you mean?”

August briefly considers pretending he hasn't heard, but, though a coward, he wagers he's yet to sink so low, so there's no other option, really. “Look at her. She's so…”

Good, is what he wants to say. She's too good to be real, too good to be his daughter, a perfectly healthy, normal little girl who won't go to sleep alone and never has to cry for more than a minute before getting picked up and comforted. She can't be his, because her life's off to a much better start already, despite the shameful life he was leading when she was conceived. 

But that's too much. Even in private, even to his father, towards whom August has strived to be as honest as possible, that's too much to speak aloud. So instead, he says “Small”, which is also true: Cedar is not an especially tiny child, in theory - Whale said she's a bit on the skinnier side for a two year old, but nothing concerning, for now - but he's never spent enough time with a toddler to get used to their dimpled little hands and grubby fingers, who grab everything and make it look so so big in contrast. 

It's mesmerizing, and it's frightening, like he's cradling the most minute piece of fine china: not even Emma ever felt this small in his arms, and she was a newborn to begin with, though perhaps that had more to do with the fact that August was a child himself when he held her. He doesn't know. He rarely ever lets his mind wander that far, because if he does, he'll start thinking about how Cedar must have looked at one, three, six months, and he'll be reminded he was too busy paying for his mistakes to see it happen in person, and-

He's not sure if his father senses the turmoil behind his lame response, but still, soon he feels a hand landing on his shoulder, giving a warm, gentle squeeze. “You were small, too, once,” Geppetto says, a hint of a smile in his voice. “Not this small, but- I used to be able to carry you around all day.”

That makes the corner of August's mouth twitch in faint amusement. “Don't give her ideas.”

“Ah, but there's nothing wrong with holding her for as long as you can- it's never too much, for a little girl. And I'm sure it will make you as happy as it did me.”

His hand moves as he says this, until he’s all but wrapping his arm around his son’s shoulders; and as he leans into the older man’s hold, August can almost believe that’s going to be all it takes to soothe his doubts - he can almost convince himself that he deserves the warmth that’s coming from both directions, and the reassurances that come with it, and the slight, endearing tilt of the head he sometimes sees in Cedar like he does in his own mirror, more self-suggestion than evidence of where she actually belongs.

Almost.