Fic: Ninja
Title: Ninja
Author: mallardeer
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: G
Spoilers: None, future fic
Summary: Henry Lopez was five, and it was clear he had inherited his mother’s penchant for mischief.
Author's Notes: A continuation of sorts of An Afternoon. This. Fluff. Not quite as fluffy as I had originally intended, though.
Henry Lopez was five, and it was clear he had inherited his mother’s penchant for mischief. He was harmless, just hiding things from his moms (but he always told them where his hiding places were) and putting rubber spiders on his friends’ sandwiches at school (but he always apologized by sharing his snacks), but there was one afternoon when he went too far. It was Saturday, and his mom had taken him to the park, because his mama was working a lot again, and he, as usual, was feeding the ducks. There was a family of ducklings crowded around him, and one of them ate the bread right out of his hand. He almost squealed with delight, but he had learned the hard way that making any noise would just make all the baby ducks waddle away as fast as they could.
Cautiously, he held out another piece, and the duckling jumped up on his knee and snatched the bread from his fingers. Unable to believe his luck, Henry reached out a hesitant hand and softly stroked the duckling’s feathers. They were fuzzy and soft, and in an instant, Henry was in love. “I’m going to call you…Ninja,” he decided, grinning, and the duckling, eager for more bread, hopped right into his hand.
For months, he’d begged his moms to let him have a pet duck, but they’d firmly said no, that the ducks had to live in the park, but Ninja obviously wanted to be with Henry, so once the bread was gone, and the tiny duck was looking satisfied and sleepy, the little boy tucked him carefully into the inside of his zippered sweatshirt. “Henry!” Brittany called. “Time to go.”
He sighed and got up, carefully rejoining his mom, hoping not to disturb Ninja or alert her to the fact that he was smuggling something in his sweatshirt. “Come on. Let’s go get a hot dog for dinner, hmm?” Brittany suggested, and he grinned up at her.
“I want two,” he decided, and she laughed and ruffled up his hair. He leaned his head against her hip, and she put a gentle hand on his back. “Is Mama gonna be home soon?” he asked, as they walked to the hot dog cart. His mama was always better at figuring out when he was doing something he shouldn’t, and he wanted to get Ninja safely hidden away.
Brittany sighed. “I hope so, Hank.”
“Me too,” the boy replied absently, because usually what he wanted more than anything was for Santana to be home.
His mom ruffled his hair again, and he looked up to smile at her, and she picked him up. Ninja shifted against his chest, startling him, but the duckling didn’t protest further, and Brittany didn’t notice Henry’s expression. She bought him a hot dog, and they headed home. “You’re quiet today, Henry,” Brittany said, as he’d been silent since she’d bought him the hot dog.
“I’m thinking,” he replied vaguely, and she smiled and kissed him.
When they got home, Santana hadn’t returned from work, and both Henry and Brittany sighed. Henry thought maybe Ninja would cheer his mom up-she liked the ducks almost as much as he did-but he thought he should get his new pet settled first. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he announced, and he kissed his mom, because he hated when she was sad, and then trotted off down the hall.
He carefully took the sleeping duckling out of his sweatshirt, once the bathroom door was closed behind him, and he sat on the floor, cradling it in his hands, just watching it in wonder. Ninja was so small and so soft and so… Henry couldn’t look at him and not grin. He took one of the hand towels and made a little nest on the floor, which he set Ninja in, and then he stood up and filled the sink with water-not too cold, but not too warm, like the pond at the park.
A minute later, the duckling was awake, quacking softly, and, delighted, Henry scooped him up and set him in the sink. Ninja quacked approvingly and dunked himself in the water while Henry watched, fascinated. The little duckling swam around in circles, as Henry stood at the edge of the sink. He was startled out of his reverie by his very favorite voice calling, “And where is that little rascal I have for a son?”
In an instant, Ninja was forgotten, as Henry barreled out of the bathroom and into Santana’s waiting arms. “Mama!” he yelled joyfully, and he clung to her neck.
Santana’s heart could have burst or broken. Nothing was better than a hug attack from her small son, but he was only so happy to see her, because she kept having to leave. She met Brittany’s eyes over his head, and her wife smiled sweetly and kissed her forehead. “We’re glad you’re home,” she said simply, and Santana was soothed.
She carried Henry into the living room and settled him on her lap, and he immediately started babbling. Santana had finally given up on trying to figure out what he was talking about; he liked to talk, and she liked to listen, and that was enough for both of them. “How was it today?” Brittany asked, coming to sit beside them.
“Murder,” Santana sighed, so Brittany pulled them both, her wife and her small son, into her arms.
Henry looked up at his parents and smiled, putting his arms around both of them. “You guys are the best moms,” he said, and that did it. Santana’s heart broke, because she felt like anything but the best mom, and she started to cry.
Distressed, her son hugged her tighter. “Mama, Mama, no lloras,” he begged, and she just held him close.
“I’m sorry, Hank,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to cry. I miss you, you know? With all this work I’ve been having to do.”
“I miss you, too,” he said solemnly. “But your work is important. Right?”
“Not more important than my own little rascal,” she said, and he giggled and kissed her. “Now sit tight with Mom for a minute, okay?”
“Okay,” he said agreeably, and he cuddled under Brittany’s arm while Santana headed to the bathroom to compose herself.
Working so much, being away from both her son and her wife, was hard on her, but she could very well make partner with this case, and she wanted, more than anything, to be able to provide for her small family as well as they deserved. She was on the verge of a short crying spell, but once she’d closed the bathroom door, she realized there was something floating in the sink. And then she yelled. “Brittany! Why is there a duck in our sink?”
Henry cringed. He’d forgotten Ninja. And now his mama was mad, and he hated when she was mad, and he wanted to make it better, to tell her Ninja would be a good pet, and he was sorry he kept it a secret, but his mama was mad, and all he could do was cry. “Oh. Henry,” Brittany murmured, pulling him into her arms. “Hush, hush. Mama’s not mad,” she promised, though she knew Santana was certainly not pleased.
She may or may not have done the same thing when they were nineteen, living in their first apartment in New York together. Santana was away a lot then, too, working two jobs and studying all the time, and Brittany got lonely and often went to feed the ducks. One day at the park, this little duckling had just walked up to her, and she felt powerless to do anything but take it home, make it its own pond in the bathroom sink, and feed it small pieces of bread.
Then Santana had come home from work unexpectedly early, and she’d forgotten the duck in her eagerness to see the other girl, and Santana had found it, much the same way she had just found Henry’s duckling. And she had yelled, and Brittany had almost cried, but they’d managed to talk about it calmly, and Santana had convinced her that the duckling belonged back at the park with his family. Which they would now have to do with Henry.
“Stay here for a minute, okay, boy?” she said, gently setting Henry on the couch.
She kissed him tenderly, and then got up and joined Santana in the bathroom. “There is a duck in our sink,” she began, wrapping her arms around her wife’s waist, “because your son smuggled one home from the park in his sweatshirt, and I was not paying enough attention to catch him.”
Santana collapsed, and Brittany held her, and in a moment, she was laughing. “He really is just like both of us,” she murmured, in awe, and Brittany smiled and turned her wife in her arms. She brushed Santana’s dark hair back from her face, and Santana kissed her. “He thinks I’m mad at him,” she realized in horror, and she practically sprinted back to the living room, where Henry was sniffling on the couch.
When he saw her, he rocketed at her legs and held on as tightly as he could. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he wailed. “I didn’t mean to make you mad, but he liked me, and I thought he’d be a good pet. I named him Ninja.”
“Ohhh, Hank,” Santana murmured, lifting him up. “I’m not mad.” She kissed him and thumbed away his tears. “I promise.”
Instantly, his face brightened. “Then I can keep Ninja?” he asked eagerly. All Santana could do was laugh.
Author: mallardeer
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: G
Spoilers: None, future fic
Summary: Henry Lopez was five, and it was clear he had inherited his mother’s penchant for mischief.
Author's Notes: A continuation of sorts of An Afternoon. This. Fluff. Not quite as fluffy as I had originally intended, though.
Henry Lopez was five, and it was clear he had inherited his mother’s penchant for mischief. He was harmless, just hiding things from his moms (but he always told them where his hiding places were) and putting rubber spiders on his friends’ sandwiches at school (but he always apologized by sharing his snacks), but there was one afternoon when he went too far. It was Saturday, and his mom had taken him to the park, because his mama was working a lot again, and he, as usual, was feeding the ducks. There was a family of ducklings crowded around him, and one of them ate the bread right out of his hand. He almost squealed with delight, but he had learned the hard way that making any noise would just make all the baby ducks waddle away as fast as they could.
Cautiously, he held out another piece, and the duckling jumped up on his knee and snatched the bread from his fingers. Unable to believe his luck, Henry reached out a hesitant hand and softly stroked the duckling’s feathers. They were fuzzy and soft, and in an instant, Henry was in love. “I’m going to call you…Ninja,” he decided, grinning, and the duckling, eager for more bread, hopped right into his hand.
For months, he’d begged his moms to let him have a pet duck, but they’d firmly said no, that the ducks had to live in the park, but Ninja obviously wanted to be with Henry, so once the bread was gone, and the tiny duck was looking satisfied and sleepy, the little boy tucked him carefully into the inside of his zippered sweatshirt. “Henry!” Brittany called. “Time to go.”
He sighed and got up, carefully rejoining his mom, hoping not to disturb Ninja or alert her to the fact that he was smuggling something in his sweatshirt. “Come on. Let’s go get a hot dog for dinner, hmm?” Brittany suggested, and he grinned up at her.
“I want two,” he decided, and she laughed and ruffled up his hair. He leaned his head against her hip, and she put a gentle hand on his back. “Is Mama gonna be home soon?” he asked, as they walked to the hot dog cart. His mama was always better at figuring out when he was doing something he shouldn’t, and he wanted to get Ninja safely hidden away.
Brittany sighed. “I hope so, Hank.”
“Me too,” the boy replied absently, because usually what he wanted more than anything was for Santana to be home.
His mom ruffled his hair again, and he looked up to smile at her, and she picked him up. Ninja shifted against his chest, startling him, but the duckling didn’t protest further, and Brittany didn’t notice Henry’s expression. She bought him a hot dog, and they headed home. “You’re quiet today, Henry,” Brittany said, as he’d been silent since she’d bought him the hot dog.
“I’m thinking,” he replied vaguely, and she smiled and kissed him.
When they got home, Santana hadn’t returned from work, and both Henry and Brittany sighed. Henry thought maybe Ninja would cheer his mom up-she liked the ducks almost as much as he did-but he thought he should get his new pet settled first. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he announced, and he kissed his mom, because he hated when she was sad, and then trotted off down the hall.
He carefully took the sleeping duckling out of his sweatshirt, once the bathroom door was closed behind him, and he sat on the floor, cradling it in his hands, just watching it in wonder. Ninja was so small and so soft and so… Henry couldn’t look at him and not grin. He took one of the hand towels and made a little nest on the floor, which he set Ninja in, and then he stood up and filled the sink with water-not too cold, but not too warm, like the pond at the park.
A minute later, the duckling was awake, quacking softly, and, delighted, Henry scooped him up and set him in the sink. Ninja quacked approvingly and dunked himself in the water while Henry watched, fascinated. The little duckling swam around in circles, as Henry stood at the edge of the sink. He was startled out of his reverie by his very favorite voice calling, “And where is that little rascal I have for a son?”
In an instant, Ninja was forgotten, as Henry barreled out of the bathroom and into Santana’s waiting arms. “Mama!” he yelled joyfully, and he clung to her neck.
Santana’s heart could have burst or broken. Nothing was better than a hug attack from her small son, but he was only so happy to see her, because she kept having to leave. She met Brittany’s eyes over his head, and her wife smiled sweetly and kissed her forehead. “We’re glad you’re home,” she said simply, and Santana was soothed.
She carried Henry into the living room and settled him on her lap, and he immediately started babbling. Santana had finally given up on trying to figure out what he was talking about; he liked to talk, and she liked to listen, and that was enough for both of them. “How was it today?” Brittany asked, coming to sit beside them.
“Murder,” Santana sighed, so Brittany pulled them both, her wife and her small son, into her arms.
Henry looked up at his parents and smiled, putting his arms around both of them. “You guys are the best moms,” he said, and that did it. Santana’s heart broke, because she felt like anything but the best mom, and she started to cry.
Distressed, her son hugged her tighter. “Mama, Mama, no lloras,” he begged, and she just held him close.
“I’m sorry, Hank,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to cry. I miss you, you know? With all this work I’ve been having to do.”
“I miss you, too,” he said solemnly. “But your work is important. Right?”
“Not more important than my own little rascal,” she said, and he giggled and kissed her. “Now sit tight with Mom for a minute, okay?”
“Okay,” he said agreeably, and he cuddled under Brittany’s arm while Santana headed to the bathroom to compose herself.
Working so much, being away from both her son and her wife, was hard on her, but she could very well make partner with this case, and she wanted, more than anything, to be able to provide for her small family as well as they deserved. She was on the verge of a short crying spell, but once she’d closed the bathroom door, she realized there was something floating in the sink. And then she yelled. “Brittany! Why is there a duck in our sink?”
Henry cringed. He’d forgotten Ninja. And now his mama was mad, and he hated when she was mad, and he wanted to make it better, to tell her Ninja would be a good pet, and he was sorry he kept it a secret, but his mama was mad, and all he could do was cry. “Oh. Henry,” Brittany murmured, pulling him into her arms. “Hush, hush. Mama’s not mad,” she promised, though she knew Santana was certainly not pleased.
She may or may not have done the same thing when they were nineteen, living in their first apartment in New York together. Santana was away a lot then, too, working two jobs and studying all the time, and Brittany got lonely and often went to feed the ducks. One day at the park, this little duckling had just walked up to her, and she felt powerless to do anything but take it home, make it its own pond in the bathroom sink, and feed it small pieces of bread.
Then Santana had come home from work unexpectedly early, and she’d forgotten the duck in her eagerness to see the other girl, and Santana had found it, much the same way she had just found Henry’s duckling. And she had yelled, and Brittany had almost cried, but they’d managed to talk about it calmly, and Santana had convinced her that the duckling belonged back at the park with his family. Which they would now have to do with Henry.
“Stay here for a minute, okay, boy?” she said, gently setting Henry on the couch.
She kissed him tenderly, and then got up and joined Santana in the bathroom. “There is a duck in our sink,” she began, wrapping her arms around her wife’s waist, “because your son smuggled one home from the park in his sweatshirt, and I was not paying enough attention to catch him.”
Santana collapsed, and Brittany held her, and in a moment, she was laughing. “He really is just like both of us,” she murmured, in awe, and Brittany smiled and turned her wife in her arms. She brushed Santana’s dark hair back from her face, and Santana kissed her. “He thinks I’m mad at him,” she realized in horror, and she practically sprinted back to the living room, where Henry was sniffling on the couch.
When he saw her, he rocketed at her legs and held on as tightly as he could. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he wailed. “I didn’t mean to make you mad, but he liked me, and I thought he’d be a good pet. I named him Ninja.”
“Ohhh, Hank,” Santana murmured, lifting him up. “I’m not mad.” She kissed him and thumbed away his tears. “I promise.”
Instantly, his face brightened. “Then I can keep Ninja?” he asked eagerly. All Santana could do was laugh.