Knocking at the front door
Grandpop wilson, meet Bellamy Wilson · 09/06

“So this is where the demon child nearly split my wife in half. Home births are nauseating, Pop. I liken the process to Xenomorphs bursting through after incubation.”

For him it had been. Not because of the natural event of giving birth, but the noises, the smells, the remnants of it all lingering to sensitivities he had no choice but to be excused from the process. Not by his choice, it was the lady's request except Nathan wanted to be there despite all of that. Given the way many precautions were made, he felt disconnected at the home stretch. Going out on the final inning and hanging around to ponder on it, it was a small detail missing out that he wished left from remaining stuck on him with a swatch of glue. David, bald Wilson, nose crinkled up in pure disgust passing on by in such a hurry.

“I've been to your home before, Nathan. Move outta the goddamn way,” the man pushed by with a rush.

It was his run to find the fridge. To steal his only son's beer and raid other parts of the kitchen because he never found himself as a guest. If the title was given, it only fell on special occasions and holidays. Today wasn’t anything special that Nate thought of and being at home with the kid, the dog and his cat who was sleeping in his play tree, not all lonesomeness took a strike. Waiting for David to return with more than his share of brew, the elder gent walked back in and crashed into the most comfortable cushion he thought to be and smirked. “Go on, continue.”

A hand rounded off the quick tour, one that was hosted by the man of the house and the latest addition. One who cooed and gurgled, gnawing on fingers while strapped securely to Nathan in the woven cloth. Getting the hang of having a small very small person attached to their person, was nothing like wearing an accessory or gadgets of particular tech no one had access to. The kid was small, round innocent eyes which favored his mother but had specks of Wilson through and through. The generation of degenerates were all in the living room then, huddling like a few cavemen, thinking of their next moves. It wasn’t until the elder of the Wilson men, out right was smitten. Immediately so because he never thought his first and only born would become a father himself.

There was Rowan. The young woman who showed up one day, which there was still many years of catching up to do. Much of which, Nate still had a lot to sort out but he was hoping these second and third or fourth chances had the direction and weight in doing so. Unlike the voice and heavy presence that seized the majority of his life had his own poor, sometimes questionable relationship with fatherhood, didn’t mean Nathan had to subscribe to a similar way. He was actively doing things differently, so differently that David was going to verbally rib his son for. It wasn’t like him not to. Elder Wilson took to nursing from the brew and then held up its bottle in saluting.

Nathan tried to stand around long enough only finding a seat himself after acknowledging the gesture. Often his rigidness and self of being trapped off from a softness not quite translated in the way he moved, was seeping through. Brushing a palm against the delicate head, one that has taken life by pulling triggers, snapping bones, or wield sharp objects, done so miraculously. His brute strength, heighten by works of science and metagene strands, was easily controlled. Delivering the kind of tenderness and care required to hold such precious cargo. David saw it and face moved in a way that alerted Nathan with a screw face of his own.

“Are you fuckin' crying, pop?”

“Bah, bah. This beer is bitter. What is it some hipster shit you new age sobs are into? Taste like piss water,” the man stated and used the back of his hand to wipe quickly at his aged cheek.

“You are fuckin' crying! Jesus fuckin' christ, get the fuck outta here,” the ears of the baby were covered and it didn’t matter then when Nathan spouted off on a daily like a sailor without caution. He adjusted behind him to loosen the wrap that held the infant so closely to free him. Before he could say a lot to be the one now ribbing his father, Nate released his boy and carefully cradled him with one arm. A technique he had down to a science and without the fear of dropping the kid. He was over the moon most days even through the wails that tore through his ear drums but the baby was quiet. Curious. Ready to figure out this newer face who he had pieces of between Elder and junior.

David was ready for the exchange after putting his bottle down on the floor between his feet. The baby resting securely at the nook of his arm, securing the kid's head and neck. Small feet dressed in bootie socks kicked, a plain blue and white onsie covered his delicate frame, and one hand waved with no direction while big Brown eyes trained on David's face. Nathan stood by with arms crossed neatly against chest after tossing the wrap over his shoulder. “We named the shit machine Bellamy. Didn’t care for the junior thing really. If it was a girl, would’ve been something else but I forgot the other options.”

While his father tuned out most of what was said except for the name stated, Nate peered on with one good eye at the sight that should have made him run quick to the toilet to toss up his breakfast. Instead it did what it was supposed to do. Incite that thing called hope. Pulling additional links in the chains that bound him to what his idea of what fatherhood looked like. While he watched on, deeply he let the thought sink in of his brother and mother being so far removed that they were going to miss out on moments like this. He didn’t want to let go old hurt and feelings of neglect, with his brother being tossed in by proxy, yet it was the way it was and would be for awhile.

“Gotta say, son, I'm proud of you and Isla.” Words of acceptance, even recognition for which was rarely spoken, caused eyes of Nate to narrow. He nodded, not giving much of a display but felt how deep those words meant. What it was to him coming from the man who was a hard ass to him most of his existence but largely so to ensure his son was more prepared for the addition to life. The changes already shown it’s way, breaking up the darkness that often cluttered his cold beating chamber if it hadn’t been already warmed by his spouse. Nate gave a disregarded wave and maybe turned up a smile. Hearing his kid gurgle and blow bubbles was one to do it over his father's acknowledgement of adding to what their take on family.

“Now that you two are well acquainted, think you can handle him for a few hours tomorrow? Got some shit to do. I know you could so thanks.” He went forward before David could answer but that turned out to work more in favor as his dad was mesmerized by the grip of his finger and constant attention that seemed to latch on to elder Wilson's face. Nathan quietly slipped out of the living room and finally since Bellamy was introduced to the world, relaxed his shoulders in ease that all would be right in their world.