Chapter Text
Sitting at your group's favourite place - the fountain - you gently rocked the babydoll wrapped in your arms back and forth, your gaze drifting between your friends as they were… caring for their own assigned Baby dolls. Caring might have been a very generous word, though.
It was an interesting choice on the school’s behalf to make their students go through an infant simulator project. At this point, some of you were almost eighteen anyway - but hey, whatever helped you get a better grade, right?
Taking a look at the other boys, though, you were not so sure if they would get one. A good grade, that is.
“This is the dumbest project we've ever had to do,” Billy sneered from the side, shooting a look of open disdain towards the doll parked in front of Sidney’s feet. If looks could kill.
“I don’t know,” Stu grinned, proudly holding his own doll up like Rafiki presenting baby Simba to the Pride Lands. “I think mine likes me.”
Rolling her eyes, Tatum reached for the doll, trying to snatch it out of his grasp. “Give me that thing before you break it!”
To her utmost displeasure, she handled the babydoll a little too roughly, and it started to wail the second it was yanked from Stu, earning her a stuck-out tongue and a barking laugh. “Hah! This little potato already likes me much better than you!”
That, in return, earned Stu a slap to the back of his head. “Oh yeah? We’re gonna see about that!”
The poor doll almost slid off Tatum’s lap as she got far too busy hammering her hands against her cackling boyfriend’s arm to really care about it, the cries only growing louder.
Almost instinctively, you pressed your babydoll tighter against your chest, gently patting its back.
Who could have imagined this Monday morning turning out like this?
“You can whine as much as you want,” your teacher, Mrs. Clarkson, said as she unloaded the carriers from the cart she had rolled in, entirely unimpressed by the chorus of annoyed groans filling the classroom. “This is a mandatory project, and it will be graded. So you had better choose a reliable partner - you are going to have to work together for this one.”
In the back, a few of the boys were already high-fiving each other, laughing and whispering about how they would just leave the dolls to the girls, since they were ‘naturally better suited’ for that sort of thing anyway.
Before that idiotic idea could take root, though, Mrs. Clarkson cut in again, accusingly pointing a finger in their direction.
“Do not even think about it! You will not leave the infants to your partner.” She lifted a bag filled with thin plastic straps, drawing everyone's attention. “These bracelets are tamperproof,” she continued, holding up another bag containing small, clock-like devices. “And these sensors track your interactions with the dolls. If I notice that you barely took care of it - or that you removed them without permission or telling me - you will fail automatically. Understood?”
Their oafish laughter died instantly, replaced by another round of collective groaning, which only grew louder as she revealed the carryalls filled with extra items: diapers, bottles, toys, clothes, and instruction manuals that probably no one was going to read anyway.
Satisfied (and slightly amused), Mrs. Clarkson waved them off. “Now stop complaining and find yourselves a partner. I do not care if you form same-sex duos or not, but you will work in pairs - nothing more, nothing less. I cannot change the curriculum.”
At that, you scanned the classroom - your eyes meeting Randy’s almost instantly. There had never really been any question about who you would choose if given the option.
He did not hesitate either, lifting his hand and gesturing between himself and you, then vaguely towards the lined-up babydolls before giving you a small thumbs-up - a silent question that you answered with a nod, mirroring the gesture. That settled that.
As usual, Billy and Stu had already claimed their respective girlfriends, leaving only the two of you from your little clique. Not that it was anything new. In every class where partners were required, it had almost always been the two of you - as long as you shared the same course, which happened often enough, given your (mayhaps intentionally) overlapping electives.
Once Mrs. Clarkson had written down the pairs on her clipboard, she returned to the dolls and began handing out the carriers without much ceremony.
Each babydoll came with a set of matching ID bracelets, calibrated to that specific doll and responsive only to those who wore them.
“Treat them like real infants,” she instructed. “They respond to movement, and to neglect. They also know exactly which caretaker holds them. You need to feed and change them, and you will have to find out when that is the case. Good luck.”
When Randy returned with the doll that had been chosen for the two of you, you lifted it from the carrier and instinctively cradled it like a real baby - the weight of it adding to the strange sense of realism, as did the soft little coo it emitted at your touch.
Beside you, Randy adjusted one bracelet around his wrist before carefully taking the doll from your arms so you could fasten your own.
Glancing down at the small figure dressed in pink, he absentmindedly fiddled with one of the romper’s press studs, his expression turning thoughtful.
“Well,” he murmured, almost to himself, “guess we are parents now.”
Suddenly, your doll began to cry as well - shrill and insistent, ripping you straight out of your thoughts and back into the present.
“Oh - oh no,” you murmured, a flicker of panic setting in as you instinctively pulled it closer, rocking it back and forth in your arms. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you hungry?”
Fumbling for the bottle, you pressed it to the doll’s mouth, hoping the sensor would recognise the attempt to feed it, while soft shh, shh sounds slipped from your lips as if they might somehow soothe it.
They did not.
If anything, the crying only grew louder, blending with the relentless wailing of Tatum’s and Stu’s baby until it felt like the noise was drilling straight into your skull.
“Okay, okay,” you hushed, your nerves starting to fray as you caught the glances of other students - those who didn’t have to deal with any of this - watching the chaos unfold. “Not hungry, then. Got it. Just- give me a second…”
Your eyes flicked back to the other doll, which was teetering dangerously close to slipping off Tatum’s skirt, and you turned to her, trying to keep your voice calm despite the rising noise. “Tatum, could you maybe give your baby back to Stu? Maybe the crying is… I don’t know, triggering mine?”
Stu immediately cackled at Tatum’s sharp intake of breath, and you were fairly certain that the only reason you did not have to dodge a slap was the doll clenched tightly in her hands - caught just before it could tumble to the ground.
“Excuse me?” she snapped, clearly offended. “I can take care of this myself!”
With a quiet huff, you slipped your jacket off and spread it out on the edge of the fountain, lowering your doll onto it with far more care than probably necessary. If rocking and feeding did not work, then it had to be a full nappy… right?
For a moment, you just stared at it, hands hovering uncertainly above its small body as your mind went completely blank. You had never changed a baby before - not a real one, and not even the dolls you had as a child, which had been lucky if they wore anything at all.
Thankfully, rescue arrived in the form of Randy.
“Hey.”
You looked up to find him standing beside you, one brow slightly raised as he took in the situation. “I leave for ten minutes to get some water,” he said, a faint grin tugging at his lips, “and everything falls apart.”
“Thank you, Randy,” you muttered, clearly not amused. “Very helpful.”
At that, he let out a quiet huff of laughter and lowered himself down beside you, gently nudging your hands aside before you could get in his way. “I’ve got this,” he said, already moving with an unusual amount of confidence. “I used to help my mom with Martha, so… changing nappies is kind of like riding a bike.”
He paused briefly, as if realising how that sounded. “You never really forget, I mean. Muscle memory.”
With surprising ease, he removed the romper, his fingers finding the buttons and the velcro beneath without hesitation, and you found yourself watching him more closely than you probably should have.
“Alright,” he went on, holding out his hand so you could pass him the clean diaper, “luckily we only have to swap these.”
After setting the ‘used’ nappy aside, he took the fresh one from you and continued, almost absentmindedly explaining as he worked, “You’re supposed to lift their left leg like this - so the right one rests on your arm. It makes it easier without twisting anything. Not that it really matters here, obviously.”
You nodded, but somewhere along the way, your attention had shifted entirely. Away from the doll - and towards him.
Towards his hands, steady and careful, towards the ease with which he handled something that had completely overwhelmed you, and towards the patience in the way he moved. While most of the other guys in your class would have been complaining, gagging, or making a scene, Randy just… did it.
There was something about him in that moment - something you could not quite name - that made warmth creep up your cheeks.
“You make this look really easy,” you admitted, your voice softer than you intended.
Randy huffed out a quiet laugh, still focused as he closed the final press stud before finally glancing your way, sending you a brief, almost shy wink. “It is,” he said, “once you stop panicking.”
Your heart stuttered at that, the sensation catching you off guard.
This was Randy. Sweet, slightly awkward, horror-obsessed Randy - the boy you had known since Kindergarten.
And yet, for some reason, it suddenly felt like you were seeing him a little differently.
“Wow.”
Stu’s voice cut in from behind you - loud, but not entirely unwelcome, if only because it gave you an excuse to tear your gaze away before it lingered too long.
You looked up just in time to see him leaning over Tatum, his grin already spreading as his eyes flicked between Randy and the now-quiet doll. “Did not have that on my bingo card today,” he said, clearly amused. “Randy Meeks: Supernanny.”
Beside him, Billy snorted, and Randy stilled for just a second before letting out a slightly embarrassed breath, colour creeping up his neck. “Could you not?”
Stu only grinned wider. “Hey, I’m just saying - if this whole film thing doesn’t work out, you’ve clearly got a future as a babysitter.”
Coming to his rescue - and maybe feeling just a little bolder than usual - you grabbed the discarded nappy and tossed it straight at Stu, watching it bounce off his face as you stuck your tongue out. “At least our baby is quiet. Yours is still screaming its non-existent lungs out.”
That, unfortunately, might have been a mistake.
You could see it immediately in the way his posture shifted, the familiar spark of mischief lighting up his expression as he got ready to pounce on you like a cat spotting prey.
With a startled shriek, you scrambled to your feet and bolted, though you did not make it very far before the lanky idiot caught up with you, lifting you off your feet - a second later, you were hauled over his shoulder, doomed to be tickled until you pleaded for mercy through laughing tears.
“HELP! TATUM! SIDNEY! ANYONE!”
Your protests dissolved into breathless, hiccuping laughter as Stu doubled down, his fingers mercilessly digging into your sides, and no matter how much you squirmed and kicked, you could not escape his tickling iron grasp. Somewhere nearby, Tatum was yelling at him to knock it off, while Sidney, far less helpful, was laughing like this was the best entertainment she had seen all day.
“Okay- okay! Stuu, I surrender!” you gasped, finally managing to smack his arm with what little strength you had left, tears stinging in your eyes.
“Say it,” Stu demanded, far too pleased and smug.
“I regret everything!” you wheezed. “I’m sorry- just let me go-”
That seemed to do it. With one last triumphant laugh, he set you back down onto your feet - directly in front of Randy.
Your knees wobbled, your head spun, and you were suddenly very aware of how hot your face had become.
Randy reacted immediately, his hands coming up to catch your arms, steadying you when you were about to drop. “You okay?” he asked, clearly amused by your current state.
You nodded, still struggling for air, your hands coming up to rest against his shoulders without thinking. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just-” you drew in a shaky breath, “almost suffocated. No big deal at all, yes yes.”
Somewhere behind you, Stu snorted, and you shot him a glare that had all the intensity of a mildly offended kitten before turning your attention back to Randy.
Oh.
Oh no.
You stilled, suddenly aware of just how close he was, of the way his hands were still resting on your arms, and of the warmth of his thumbs against your skin - something entirely normal, and yet, in that moment, it felt anything but.
The realization hit all at once, and you jerked back as if the contact burned you, clearing your throat a little too loudly as your gaze darted away - anywhere but him - until it landed on the doll. Your saviour!
You grabbed it a little too quickly, hugging it to your chest a little too tightly. “I’ll take her home tonight,” you blurted, the words coming out a tad too fast
Smooth. You were so incredibly smooth.