Work Text:
Jake woke to warmth. Not the cold hardness of barracks or in a VA-appointed apartment with a half-broken cot and a busted heater. Not the sterile hum of a linkpod or the drugged daze of a cryobed, where birthdays didn’t matter because you weren’t really there. Not the dingy apartments in South Carolina with peeling paint and cheap beer, or Texas mornings in his parents’ house with Bobert’s fat body sprawled on him and the smell of his Ma’s chocolate cake.
But it was close.
Damn close.
The weight of Neteyam sprawled across his chest, drooling into the dip of his collarbone. Their boy wasn’t even supposed to be awake yet—he usually didn’t toddle into the big nest until one of them stirred—but there he was, fat little body rising and falling with each breath, fingers twitching as he dreamed. And curled against Jake’s side, protective as always, Tsu’Tey’s hum vibrated low, steady as a drum.
The first thing Jake felt wasn’t age, wasn’t the weight of a new year, but abundance.
“Happy birthday, yawnetu,” Tsu’Tey murmured against his shoulder, voice husky from sleep. He reached over Neteyam’s squishy middle to touch Jake’s cheek, pulling his face close enough for a kiss.
Neteyam, feeling the motion, then opened his big hazel eyes and chirped indignantly at being ignored, squealing high and low in protest, little fists patting Jake’s chest until he scooted higher like: how dare you not include me.
“Hey, Bean,” Jake chuckled, squishing his cheeks. His throat caught. He couldn’t remember the last time his birthday meant something. Maybe twenty-one—cheap beer and strangers he couldn’t name. Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Lost years. Those birthdays didn’t count—frozen, preserved, unliving. Even if he felt all the six years he missed, technically, he was twenty-nine now. Actually, twenty-three. His brain hurt just thinking about it. Fuck, he hated science.
And then Neteyam pressed his drooly face against his nose with a babble that demanded attention, and Jake’s chest cracked open into laughter. “G’mornin’, Bean, g’mornin’.”
It didn’t matter.
Tsu’Tey leaned in, brushing against Neteyam, his smile as bright as their baby’s own. “Mawey, Baba,” he soothed, nuzzling Neteyam’s cheeks until the boy squealed ‘mama’, ‘dada’, gurgles, and then ‘baba’ in a tangle of baby talk.
Jake wrapped them both up, dragging Tsu’Tey in against his chest. Neteyam peeped and kicked in tiny protest, but then his squeals gave him away.
Jake kissed Tsu’Tey’s temple, voice rough with something that wasn’t just sleep. “Can’t imagine a better gift than wakin’ up like this.”
Maybe—just maybe—he didn’t hate science so much after all.
🟄
BONUS (Neteyam’s Baby-Logic POV)
Big nest. Soft soft soft.
Sa'nu put him down here—all warm and he smiled when he chirped and kissed him tons. Neteyam wriggled and scrunched, but then—Daddy. He smelled Daddy, nice and snug, chest under his cheek. Yes. Good. Snorts. Nap.
He curled tighter (sa'nu call him roly-bug), drool spilling onto Daddy’s skin, and slept again.
Something tapped—Mommy’s hand—it scratched on his back and felt very good. Then Daddy moved under him, body shifting, voice rumbling against Neteyam’s ear. Neteyam blinked awake, eyes wide—ear go flick flick. Daddy was laughing. Mommy’s voice was close, low, and soft. Their faces were near, cheeks touching and noses brushing. They press faces and smile. I want that too!
Neteyam squeaked, high then low, patting his little fists against Daddy’s chest. No, no, hi, hello, include me! His body scrambled up until he was between them, pressing his nose against Daddy’s nose, babbling, “Mama—dada—uhm—baba!”
Daddy squished his cheeks, making his mouth funny, and Neteyam squealed at the silly sound. Mommy leaned in with kisses to his chubby face, humming, “Mawey, Baba,” and Neteyam giggled so hard he kicked.
Then the big laugh came from Daddy—loud and happy. Mommy’s chest shook with it, too. They were both smiling. Both looked at him.
Neteyam babbled louder, proud, because this was Neteyam day too—he thinks so. His family. His home. His safe.
And it was perfect.
He sleep now.