[tom=http://i.imgur.com/JhqIMKm.png, #940000]One of Damon's best memories had always been the birth of his daughter Lucette. He'd cried like an asshole, and grinned like a bigger damn asshole, and peered into her tiny face with the most complete amazement. It'd been a long time since then. He reacted about the exact same way to Oliver. Damon didn't have a lot of softness to him, but when it was there, it tended to be strong, almost exaggeratedly so. He latched onto the things he approved of and cared about them like nobody ever had before, grieving when he lost them, trying to make the most of the more human and meaningful life he had a chance to experience.
Damon thought children were the cutest creatures alive, and when they happened to be his own, there was nobody he wouldn't defend adorable status to-- including his husband. Oliver had pretty blond hair (it caught him off guard, seeing the color be neither black and white nor that ridiculous green), scary eyes, and was a delightfully chubby little thing. Those were the cuddliest of babies, and of course his kid would be the cuddliest. When Damon handed the kiddo over to Mike to hold, he did so with watery eyes and a shaky chuckle.
Mike's statement changed the tone, and Damon laughed his ass off. "I'll teach you! It isn't that hard, once you get used to it, and it'll be easier with me helping. We're partners, especially in this."
He was easygoing with the paperwork they had to do afterwards. Nothing could dampen his mood, and probably wouldn't for, hell, a few months, maybe longer. Maybe forever. It was cheesy, but the whole miracle of life deal, having something this small and new that was a mix of him and the man he loved, it kinda overwhelmed him. A lot. Couldn't be ruffled by anything when you were full of giddy mush.
It was the sort of dizzy thrill that made you worry you were going to walk straight into a pole. In this case, drive into it, as Damon was now taking them home. Let Mike have some staring-at-the-kid time. He didn't know how to approach crying, though, so they eventually had to change roles. Damon cuddled his perfect baby and made soft, growly purring sounds at him to calm him down, like his family used to. Now, technically you weren't supposed to hold a newborn while driving home, but from the teeth Damon had spotted a flash of earlier, Oliver took a good amount after him. Driving slowly and taking the quiet roads back was fine. Carseat later, but this kid was too new not to stare at and touch. Damon reached out, and Oliver nibbled at him with his baby fangs. He was overjoyed.
The Ashworth mansion suddenly felt more like a home, less like a place Damon was intruding in, because he had a solid reason and right to be here. He felt… rebelliously accomplished. Mike was supposed to have an heir, Damon had given a fucking heir, his stupid snobby relatives couldn't turn their noses up at him anymore. Or if they did, well, it sure wouldn't do shit for them. And if they ever tried to look down on his baby, their own blood, he might have to actually do some ass-kicking. None of the Mr. Nice, Friendly Nightmare stuff he was being careful with around them. If it seemed like an issue, he was going to try and help Mike raise this kid into a stunning high society brat, better than any of his cousins could ever dream of being. That'd fucking show them.
But really. As a dad, he'd prefer that everyone just love Oliver, and that be that. Drama would never be the top priority. He'd already swallowed his pride with his ex-wife, for Lucette's sake. Certain things in the world were irreplaceable. He watched Mike and Oliver with that sentiment. Quiet, but with large eyes, and an innocently adoring expression that made him look younger.
Only the question shook him away from that peaceful quiet, and his thoughts. He smiled. "About the same as it felt with our lil' Olive here. Holding the whole world in your hands? Makes you feel like a real clumsy dumbass, but with all those parental emotions, too. Wanting to protect something despite being an idiot. When I saw Lucy, it was when I realized… I dunno, that life was real? That I cared about shit, and it wasn't this huge joke?" He paused for a moment. "I'm not human, y'know, so it took this very special thing to figure that out." He offered Mike an earnest grin, then looking to Oliver. "Honestly, man, aside from all the dramatic nonsense, it was pretty much just a continuous ramble of 'holy shit, that's a kid, I love this kid' in my head. I'm glad that hasn't changed."
His cheeks warmed, heartbeats heavy, and stepped over to pull Mike into a tight hug. "And this time, there's a lotta… 'holy shit, that's my husband, we made a miniature person together."[/tom]
Michael worked at a hospital, and because of that, babies weren't a novelty to him anymore. He was firmly of the opinion that babies weren't cute, looking more like odd hybrids of mole rats and potatoes. He didn't exactly change that opinion now that he was holding little Oliver in his hands, but he had a lot of fondness for the sucker just because he was theirs. His and Damon's. Their baby. The baby that was theirs. Hmmm.