City Lights

Rayne and Quinn deal with their baby's first fever.

 

Rayne ran the tips of her fingers gently over the thin strands of dark hair that covered the small head which rested against her shoulder.  The city was quiet beneath her feet, the street lights dim, the pavement littered with the odd homeless person or stray cat.  A light breeze blew through her hair and over the balcony.  The infant in her arms stirred, fisting the fabric of her robe in one tiny hand.  Rayne glanced down, placed a kiss against the warm crown of her baby’s head, and turned around to rest a hip against the railing.

She still ached, even three months after the labor and delivery.  It had been difficult, to sum it up in one word.  Nearly impossible, from what Rayne remembered of it.  Pain, the threat of losing her child, darkness, silence, and finally the screams of her newborn daughter.  Labor didn’t get much worse than hers, Rayne thought.  And now, three months later, her precious baby was sick.

Just a fever, Quinn had told her, nothing to worry about.  She wished she didn’t worry, that she could fall asleep with the sound of her daughter fussing over the baby monitor, uncomfortable and sweaty, then cold.  She’d cry, and Quinn would say “Wait and see, baby, cuddling her is only going to make it worse.”

But it didn’t.  Kaiya Thompson quieted the moment Rayne lifted her into her arms, fussing only momentarily to let her mother know how horrible she felt.  Rayne had carried her onto the balcony of their condo tonight, hoping the warm night air might soothe the child better than the chilly air conditioning inside.

It seemed to work, but Kaiya didn’t sleep, merely nuzzled her mother’s neck, indulging in the familiar scent and feel.  Rayne ran her fingers gently up the infant’s back, attempting to soothe away the uncomfortable heat.  She closed her eyes, willing away the tiredness that came with 4 a.m.  Kaiya stirred, made a noise, and Rayne began to sing.

Her voice wasn’t great, but she could carry a tune, her daughter seemed to find it particularly soothing.  She relaxed instantly, made a noise of content.  A mother’s voice was a mother’s voice, no matter what it sounded like.  She continued with the same tune, caressing Kaiya’s damp neck.  She rocked slowly, side to side, closing her tired eyes and hoping the infant would fall asleep soon.

Rayne opened her eyes when the balcony door slid open.  Quinn leaned against the door frame, half-naked, short hair tussled from tossing and turning.  He held one of Kaiya’s blankets in his hand–the pink one she loved so much.  She was pretty sure he was glaring at her.  Rayne lowered her voice to a murmur and brought her lips to Kaiya’s ear.  The infant snuggled closer to her mother.

“She’ll never fall asleep without you if you keep this up,” Quinn said quietly, still watching from the doorway.  Rayne shot him a glance that said I really don’t care.  She ran her fingers gently up and down her baby’s back, held one hand out to Quinn when she shivered once.  Instead of handing her the blanket, Quinn stepped forward and put his hands around Kaiya’s torso.  She made a noise of protest as Quinn lifted her away from her mother, but she quieted the moment she laid eyes on her father.

Quinn tucked the blanket around Kaiya and supported her small form with one hand.  Rayne reveled in the way he dwarfed the tiny infant.  They stared at each other for a moment, neither saying a word.  Then Quinn reached out with his free hand, slid his warm palm under the shoulder of her bathrobe.  She was unable to stifle a moan as his fingers probed the knotted muscles in her shoulders and neck.  The feeling made her weak in the knees.

“You’re exhausted,” he said, and Rayne caught the hint of irritation in his voice.  “Go to bed.”  He wasn’t asking.

Rayne forced herself to open her eyes as his fingers worked their magic against the nape of her neck.  “I can’t sleep with her sick, Quinn,” she managed to say, but her voice was weak and tired.  She could sleep, she just didn’t want to.  And Quinn knew it.

He sighed.  “You’re gonna make yourself sick if you keep this up.  It’s only a fever, Rayne, she’ll be fine in a few days.  You’re getting worked up over nothing.”

“I’m not worked up.”  She was all but pouting.

Quinn smiled, leaned in and kissed her lips softly.  He brought his fingers up to caress her cheek, run his thumb over the dark circles under eyes so brown they were almost black.  “I’m not going to stand here and pretend I know what it was like to give birth to Kaiya.  I know it was painful, and I know I almost lost the both of you,” he swallowed hard.  “But she’s strong, Rayne, and so are you, but you’re still a bit weak from the labor.  If you don’t get some rest you’re going to end up back in the hospital.”

His hand dropped to her flattened stomach.  He could feel the sharp outline of her ribs, stifled his anger, and caressed the place where her large belly and his daughter once were.  Kaiya fidgeted and expressed her discomfort with a distressed cry.  Quinn turned his attention on his daughter and untucked a corner of the blanket from around her.  He rocked slowly from side to side until she quieted.

He looked back at his wife, who was leaning against the railing of the balcony, barely able to stand.  Enough was enough.  She was going back to bed whether she liked it or not.  But for all the anger that burned within him, he couldn’t shout at her, couldn’t even manage to speak sternly.  “Come back to bed,” he said quietly, tugging on the knot of her bathrobe.  She didn’t object and allowed him to lead her inside, a steadying hand on the small of her back.

Quinn shut and locked the door with one hand and watched carefully as Rayne shed her bathrobe, only rocking unsteadily once before crawling into bed.  She didn’t lie down like he had hoped, but sat back against the headboard, staring at him.  With a sigh Quinn approached the bed and slid under the covers, propping himself up next to Rayne.  He placed a kiss on the crown of Kaiya’s head as Rayne slid up next to him.

She ran the back of her hand over Kaiya’s forehead, smiled as the infant looked at her with sad eyes.  “Go to sleep, baby,” she murmured, placing a kiss near her temple and caressing the thin spattering of hair until the baby closed her eyes.

“You go to sleep too,” Quinn whispered, slanting a look at her.  Rayne gave him a tired, half-smile, before she leaned over to kiss him.  It was slow and lazy, and just sexy enough to make him stir.

“I love you,” she murmured, before shifting her lips to Kaiya’s head.  “And I love you,” she said, checking to see if her daughter’s eyes remained closed.

“We know,” Quinn said, reaching over and pulling Rayne back for another kiss, this one chaste.  “Now get some sleep.”

Smiling at him, Rayne lay down and closed her eyes, one hand sliding over Quinn’s abdomen; the intimate contact she always seemed to need to go to sleep.  It seemed his daughter needed the same thing.

Quinn smiled, and as he lay awake in bed, comforting his feverish child, he watched the city lights blink off one by one, and the sun begin to rise in a red line on the horizon.

Author's Note

This piece was originally fanfiction but I adapted it because I no longer write fanfiction and really like this piece. A more romantic side I usually don't explore.