Bundles From High Reaches

Monaco Bay Weyr - Meeting Chamber
Though fairly small this room is still sufficient enough to hold a round table with twelve chairs about it, and there is electric lighting in the room to provide plenty of illumination for the meetings held within. The table is a rich deep mahogany, looking of an age to almost be an original furniture piece of this weyr. The chairs are newer but done still made in a way to match the style of the table. Cushions with the device of the weyr upon it, three silver roundels on a midnight blue field, are set upon each chair for comfort.


It is a day like any other. J'en is working with the weyrlings. S'van is working in the office. Business as usual. It's still morning, late enough that breakfast has been eaten, and early enough that lunch is not for several hours. And Sev? Sev is being industrious. Pouring over documents with eyes and finger, laptop currently pushed to the side as he skims through handwritten notes and old correspondences. The office, which he probably shares, is devoid of other people at the moment, leaving the weyrsecond to his own devices. He's dressed as one might expect a Weyrsecond to dress: leather pants and light shirt, flight jacket tossed over a hook by the door. Exuding authority even if he's sitting behind a desk and not commanding a Wing. Either he does not mean to stay in Monaco for the entirety of the day, or he's making a point to look professional. Given recent events, it's probably the latter.

Then there is a knock on the door frame of the open office door, followed by an eerily patient silence. Whenever it is that S'van decides to look up, he'll see a very tall and statuesque figure of a woman standing just outside. Beautiful doesn't even come close to describing her, she had curves in all the right places, almost as if someone had designed her with ideal womanly dimensions and then printed her out. Legs up to there, seriously. That her face was also a head-turner didn't help deter that initial impression at all, every feature flawless, right down to the thick and silky flow of her light brown hair. "You the Weyrsecond?" she asks in an effortless melodic tone, brushing her long runnertail off her shoulder with a graceful sweeping gesture of her free hand. It reveals her High Reaches knot, and it clearly depicts her as a junior goldrider. "My name is Irina, gold Hysuth's rider…" In her opposing hand is a soft looking basket, that's clearly weighed down by something or another.

She doesn't have to wait long. The knock has grey eyes sweeping from paper to doorway, and then sweeping from head to toe across the woman he finds there. He can't help it. S'van is still a man even if he is a very taken, very devoted-to-his-weyrmate man. But his curiosity rests not on those perfectly proportioned assets, but on her face as is polite. The question brings an arched brow, and while he undoubtedly has a suitably smartass comment just itching to be said, he reigns in his tongue and offers a much more professional, "Yes. I'm S'van," he offers, standing from his desk and beckoning her in. "Bronze Aedeluth's rider and Weyrsecond here. What can Monaco do for High Reaches?" The name does not ring any bells; if S'van heard it before, he's certainly not connected it with his weyrmate. The basket gets a cursory glance, but nothing more.

Irina certainly notices the sweeping gazed, unphased either because she was accustomed to it or out of diplomatic necessity, stepping forward as S'van's identity is confirmed and she's beckoned forth. She comes to stand directly in front of the desk that separates them, her leather barely making a sound in the process, and lifts her basket holding hand up high enough that the item in question can be gently deposited atop it; papers and all. "I'm not sure if you're at all aware that one of your weyr's dragons caught my Hysuth in a flight about nine months ago, nothing came of it, except this…" At this point she eases the two sides of the basket open to reveal what is undoubtedly a newborn baby. It had a thick crop of black hair and was sleeping soundly, its tiny fist shoved into its mouth. Clearly, Irina was not as barren as her lifemate seemed to be. "I'm nineteen, I'm not ready to be a single parent, but I couldn't get rid of him. I-It's just not who I am…and I wanted to extend one last offer to your rider, and make sure that he really doesn't want him after seeing him before I put him up to foster." The goldrider was really trying to keep herself together, but she was visibly struggling with keeping her emotions in check right then, inhaling sharply and offering the weyrsecond a strained smile. "It was her maiden flight, I don't really have a firm grasp of the protocol in these sort of situations or if there is any at all. I don't want to ruffle any feathers or start an interweyr incident…so I'm really hoping you can help me."

It's a very slow process, those dots being connected in S'van's brain. Little things in the conversation that twinge at the back of his mind, little light bulbs turning on as Irina speaks and some of the facts start to line up. But still, even with the reveal of the baby and that shock of black hair, he's not quite there yet. Or maybe it's denial. Because it's not like dark hair isn't common. It's not like mating flights aren't common. And it's not as though Monaco is lacking in young bronzeriders disinterested in starting families. But still; there are too many coincidences for S'van, and his suspicions are beginning to get the best of him. "I see…" comes after a moment of silence, and while his expression is somewhat guarded, there's still a touch of sympathy for the young woman's plight. "What is it you want me to do, exactly?" This is a safe question, right? A whole helluva lot safer than his follow-up question of, "Do you happen to know the rider's name?" that he just can't help but to ask.

For the goldrider, there are no dots to connect, she doesn't know S'van or anything about him other than she felt a lot more comfortable talking to him than the weyrleader or the senior weyrwoman about such a deeply personal matter. The second that Hysuth landed in the main clearing, she'd felt out of place and decidedly overdressed given the tropical location, having lived all her life in the snowy recesses of High Reaches. Now she was a junior weyrwoman and fresh out of weyrlinghood she'd found herself pregnant with a foreign bronzerider's baby following her lifemate's maiden flight. She hadn't dwelled on who the father was beyond his name and where he lived, she'd reached out to him, and gotten a rather curt response to get rid of it if she didn't want it. Hormones being what they were and able to fully understand at the very least what she was or wasn't capable of, here she was pleading with a stranger in a weyr she was unfamiliar with to help her make sense of everything. "I'm…I'm not sure?" she says with a short laugh that was anything but meant in humor, wiping at her eyes and breathing through more of those swelling emotions. "Maybe talk to him? Show him Riley? He's beautiful…he's perfect…and if I thought for a second that I was in a place to raise him on my own right now I would without hesitation, but…" Oh, she wanted to keep him so bad her heartached having this conversation. It really did. Unevenly she exhales in a shaking breath, nodding her head once. "His name is J'en, bronze Leketh's rider…"

Well, fuck. If S'van wasn't somewhat prepared for that answer, the utterance of it would have had him dropping into his chair with the shock of it. "Ah…" because now things are complicated. Ridiculously complicated. A wrinkle forms across his brow, a frown tugs at his mouth, but it is not disapproval that motivates the expression. "Sit," he offers, because Sev feels like he might collapse but isn't about to sit in his own chair and leave the goldrider standing. Thankfully, there are a pair of perfectly suitable chairs opposite his own to allow her to do so without having to go far. And now he goes silent, fingers pressed together as he eyes the basket, or rather the contents of it, with increasing focus. There's a lot he could say, and for a while Sev just spends his time arguing with himself over what he should or shouldn't divulge to the High Reaches weyrwoman. He can see that pain, that obvious heartache for the decision being made. Eventually, he opts for the truth. "J'en is my weyrmate." Whether that is meant to reassure her or warn her, is hard to say. But he does follow it with a gentler, "I'll talk to him."

"A-are you…" Irina interjects, unable to miss the change in S'van that comes when she reveals the father of her son, a perplexed and concerned expression washing over her features and for a moment she forgets her own worries as she finds something else to focus on. It wasn't her place to offer the man a seat but she was on the cusp of it when he extends the courtesy to her instead. "Oh, o-of course." With that she fidgets slightly before selecting one of the two chairs she had been standing between at random, the one to her right, choosing the edge of the seat rather than deeper in. Her dark gaze was quietly taking in everything that the weyrsecond's current demeanor eluded and her brain couldn't help but make come up with half a dozen explanations as to why. Was J'en a troublemaker here in Monaco? Did he spend a lot of time locked up for starting barroom brawls? He couldn't be dead, Hysuth would have told her that. A crinkle appears on her youthful brow, appearing rather stiff in her chair because she wanted to do something, anything really, to relief at least some of the obvious stress her news had inspired in S'van. "Sir…I…" she says as the tension becomes too much, just to be shushed completely with the next few words out of his mouth. The goldrider blinks, eyes widening and her lips part, but nothing comes out of her mouth for a few seconds. Taking a breath, she exhales, "Well, uh…that…" Several more blinks, a fluttering of lashes really and she goes all silent again, open and closing her mouth a couple more times with soft interrupted sounds that were probably meant to be words. "I guess…the question becomes…do you want him?" This is said as gently and quietly as she can, looking from the basket to the weyrsecond, "I don't really know…what kind of…relationship you two have…but a child…a baby…that's…that's…" A big decision? Yes. Yes it is. "I hope that I'm not overstepping my bounds here…but I don't know anything about your weyrmate, sir, other than he didn't want to have anything to do with this pregnancy."

Nope, S'van is not okay. But he's a whole lot more Okay than J'en likely would be if he was sitting here instead of the weyrsecond. But the brunet is still struggling with the reality of the situation. It's one thing to be told your weyrmate's bronze caught a queen. It's quite another to have that queen's rider in your office and offering up offspring to hammer home the fact that the love of your life slept with someone else. He's struggling mightily to keep a grip on his own emotions, both because it would be wholly unfair to unleash them upon the poor woman preparing to give up her child, and because it would be extremely unprofessional for him to do so while acting in the capacity of Weyrsecond. But the line between duty and personal life is certainly getting blurry on this one, and Sev is eyeing that baby with a deep, thoughtful look. Does he want him? "Ahh…" It's not that simple. His expression says it all. "Whether I want him or not…" a shake of his head, a sympathetic expression in the shallow smile that he offers to Irina. "It's not a decision I can make alone." It's gotta be discussed. Sev can't even imagine the sort of feelings of betrayal that bringing home a baby, without discussing it first, might inspire. The fact that it is not his child? Yeah… Sev's not that dumb. "Let me talk to him. If you've got time to spare, I can do it while you wait… we've got a nice garden where you can rest and enjoy a bit of the warmth," because it's fucking WINTER in High Reaches right now, and Sev's pretty sure most people would enjoy a bit of an escape from that. And should she be amenable to it? Then Aedeluth will reach out to Leketh, requesting an immediate meeting with J'en.

Irina couldn't even begin to guess what S'van was thinking or feeling other than a whole lot of overwhelmed and had she known that J'en was this man's weyrmate, she might have very well have approached this situation from another angle. A less official one. Now, they were both rather stuck tiptoeing around some very blurred lines. Looking down at her sleeping son when the weyrsecond does, there is almost a wince when she realizes just how her question might have been taken. She wasn't about to dump Riley into S'van and take off back to High Reaches, that wasn't what she was implying, she had been much more concerned about his personal feelings. It wasn't just J'en that would have to make this decision, but him as well. This means that when he does answer her, the goldrider lifts her gaze and nods once, returning the thinness of that smile. "I blocked out the day, so please, take your time." There is gratitude in her tone for the offer of the garden and a chance to warm her bones, rising up out of her chair and collecting the basket and its precious burden, the child with it making soft and contented sucking noises as he is disturbed. That she had about a thousand things that she wanted to say, an apology among them, keeps her lingering before the weyrsecond's desk a moment before she smiles faintly instead and awkwardly turns to make her way out of the office and down the hallway.

It's a good fifteen minutes before J'en arrives following the passed along request, wearing black nylon training shorts from hip to knee and a deep red tank top, a pair of soft shoes on his feet. The kind with rubber soles. With all that dragon muck around he wasn't about to ruin his boots nor brave enough to wear his sandals. Outgrown hair tied back into a runner that was getting longer everyday, he jerks his chin upwards as he passes through the entry and closes the door behind him. "We got movement?" he inquires, suggesting that he thinks this might have something to do with what happened in the hatching cavern.

The moment that Irina is out of his office and out of eyesight, S'van's head finds his hands. His palms rub at his eyes, his fingers rake back into his hair, and he groans in a mixture of defeat and resignation. This is not going to be a pleasant conversation, of that he knows. And what the right thing might be? He doesn't know that either. All he knows is that he has to talk to J'en about this, and they have to come to a decision together. He's still hunched over his desk with his head in his hands, fingers threaded through now-disheveled brown locks, when his weyrmate makes his arrival. It ought to be obvious at a glance that this was not about the hatching situation. But S'van shakes his head and offers a hoarse, "No. Not yet… this…" a glance up, a flash of his gaze from weyrmate to door and a murmured, "close the door, please," because this definitely needed to be a private talk. "And then come here?" Because Sev needs to touch him, to hold him, to put his arms around him and breathe him in; a little bit of stability in a suddenly very unstable world.

J'en was incredibly bad at matching feelings to situations, his own being so large that he more often than not had to bury them down deep inside where no one could see them. He'd spent a great deal of time making himself smaller, more appropriate and what people expected. It was when he was alone, where no one could see it, that he unleashed everything and expressed himself to the fullest of extents. Cleaning up afterwards, that was just as cathartic. He could see that S'van was upset, brows lifting and concern rapidly replacing his usual stoic disposition, not even waiting for the invitation before coming around the desk and situates himself between the other man's legs, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him close, "What 'appened?" he asks softly, supportive and present externally, but internally gearing up to kick some serious ass. Whoever messed with HIS Sevran, was going to wish they were dead if he ever got his hands on them.

S'van is not going to answer immediately, if just because he's not quite sure how to respond. So he just wraps his arms around J'en in return, buries his face against him and breathes in the scent of him. A few large, deep breaths later and he pulls himself away enough to turn his face up to meet those golden eyes with his own grey. "It's not… It's…" and see, how Sev has to tell his weyrmate that he's got another kid. Something he knows is not likely to be well received. And he doesn't want to do it. Because he doesn't want to upset him, and he doesn't want to let go, and he definitely doesn't want to fight — even if he doesn't think it will come to a fight. But he has to. He must. He can't not tell him. So after another deep breath, he just launches into it. "Irina from High Reaches is here. The rider of the gold that Leketh caught," because Sev does not expect J'en to remember her name, "She's got your son with her. She came to ask me… to talk to you… to give you one last chance to say yes to raising him before she fosters him."

As J'en had been wearing that shirt since after he showered that morning, it was heavily saturated in his scent, and he has no qualms about S'van getting all up in there and helping himself to it. He understood it, done it himself especially when he was upset, as clearly the other man was. He smooths his hands over his hair, freeing up the tangles he finds, but doesn't let up even a little until the weyrsecond draws back and looks up to him, Jae's expression soft and still wholly displaying his concern, "Sevran, what…?" Now neither of them could finish a sentence, golden eyes searching his grey, and his heart sinks even as that urge to seek and destroy the cause of his weyrmate's distress only grows stronger by the second. He had no idea of what transpired in this office only twenty minutes ago, and so when S'van finally reveals the truth, he gives S'van a long look that indicates he had no idea who the hell he was talking about. Irina…who? The brunet hit that nail on the head there, but then again he knew him almost as well as he knew himself. It'd been nearly a turn since Leketh caught Hysuth, and it takes that extra descriptor for him to put one and one together and it brings its fair share of tension into his once nearly lax frame. He's about to ask why when S'van continues on and that's when he freezes, looking boarderline pissed before he can manage to hide it any, "Why the fuck is she comin' to ya? I told 'er if she wanted to keep the brat that it was on 'er…otherwise it was 'er job to get rid of it." Oh, the border was down and full out rage boils beneath the surface, barely held in check. He didn't understand why this was a thing. Why was this thing happening at all?

Silence seems like a better option than attempting to answer those anger-fueled questions. So S'van just waits, quietly, for that anger to rise and those questions to be issued. But he won't let him go, because he needs to keep his hands on him for his own sanity. "She's young. And scared. And has no idea what to do and is trying her best to make the right choice. She's trying to /include/ you in the decision process," he points out, though it's not an argument so much as a gentle observation, "because she cares." A moment of pause, a second of hesitation, and he adds, "She brought him. With her. He's here, if you /do/ want to see him." No pressure! "His name is Riley." Another pause. Another moment of thought and he adds, "He's your son. If it was… maybe just look at him?" S'van? Did not have the luxury of being offered to raise HIS children. But while he won't pressure his weyrmate, there's no denying that a part of him thinks J'en ought to at least meet this child he doesn't want.

"Woulda thought that 'er matin' flights lecture oughta 'ave covered what she was supposed to do," J'en grumbles, not letting go of S'van any more than he was letting go of him. Anger, that was way easer to handle than the other emotions trampling around within him, and much better understood. It wasn't his weyrmate that he was upset about at all, but rather for him. He could see with his two eyes what Irina's arrival and what she brought with her had done to the man he loved. The havoc that she'd wrought. It was the stress that S'van puts on inclusion that garners all of Jae's attention, putting a bit of a damper on his ire, if temporarily. It's then that he's reminded that it wasn't all that long ago when his weyrmate had been told that he had children himself, nearly one turn old children, that he wasn't even given the option to raise. Being in a same sex relationship, J'en hadn't given children WITH S'van much thought, because biologically that was an impossibility. No matter how hard they tried. His expression hardens as he's told that Irina had physically brought the child with her, staring down at him and for a spell he's at a loss for words. What. The. Actual. Fuck? It was either because he was pissed all over again or because he was holding his breath, that his face starts to turn redder. What is this day? It'd started out just fine and now it'd gone to shit. "Sevran," he exhales all at once, tension leaking out of him but some measure of stiffness remaining as he pauses to consider him, brushing some loose strands of hair out of his face, "Do ya even wanna raise a kid with meh? A kid that ain't even yers? I dunno what kinda parent I would be. I know nothin' 'bout babies or what to do when they start makin' noise…" He means cry, of course. At least his tone was back to something much more closely resembling normal and it might even seem like he's less inclined to ripping the High Reaches goldrider's face off should he agree to meet with her. "Not to mention 'avin' 'round a constant reminder that I ban'ed someone else…"

No, S'van was not given the same courtesy being extended to J'en. But even so, there is no pressure from the Weyrsecond. This is an entirely personal decision, and Sev isn't going to try to influence it beyond suggesting that J'en give it some consideration before outride dismissing the child. A little tug seeks to pull his weyrmate into his lap, secure in the privacy given in closed doors and empty rooms. Whether he sits or not, Sev will consider the question thoroughly before answering it. "Of course I would want to raise a kid with you," he decides, frowning just a touch. "New parents don't know how to raise babies. That's not uncommon. That's what nannies and sisters are for." And he's definitely got an abundance of the latter. But his weak attempt at a joke is given up after that simple statement, offering a more serious, "If you want to raise this child, I will raise it with you. And I will love it just as if it were my own; it doesn't matter if it doesn't carry my blood in its veins. It's your son, Jae. I already love him." If he can kiss him, he'll kiss him; a tender brush of lips to lips meant to reassure and comfort. "I don't see her when I look at him. I just see you."

Underneath it all? J'en was terrified. This was almost exactly the same set of circumstances that had brought him into the world. His father had told his mother to take care of it, and she hadn't. He was already more his father than he cared to admit, so in what other ways would he be similar to P'rel? Admittedly, S'van was nothing like his Uncle I'srie, and their relationship was nothing like theirs. J'en is easily pulled into the weyrsecond's lap and he's quick to bury his face into the side of his neck, doing what he can to hide from everything. It wasn't effective of course, but it did in some small way comfort him to be especially close to his weyrmate right now. It was his turn to be silent as S'van attempts to soothe away his worried, one of his hands cupping the side of his neck, fingers slightly tangled in brown waves and curls. He takes the opportunity presented to breathe him in. "What if I suck at it? What if…" he mutters, unable to voice more fear that he had already. He was a fucking bronzerider for fuck's sake. A tall, muscular, tatted up, pierced, curse-dropping, ale-drinking man. Yet the thought of being responsible for properly raising another human being scared the ever loving shit out of him. More than never being anything other than a wingrider. More than renegades in the woods. He holds S'van fractionally tighter for his attempt at humor, unable to disguise the fact that he was shaking just a little. No one else got to see him like this. No one. Not even Risali. Very reluctantly, he leans back, but only so much as is necessary as to rest his forehead against S'van's. "Sevran…" Was now the time for babies and expanding their family from two to three? With weyrlings to look after, sabotage, potential upheaval, and a Xanadu clutch on the way? Was there ever a good time for babies? The kiss comes at a rather opportune time, significant enough to raise dark lashes and lock golden eyes to grey once again. "I'll look at 'im…" He wasn't promising more than that.

"You won't," suck at it. "And you won't be doing it alone. I'll be there." And if they both suck at it? Well. RIP RILEY. But S'van is pretty sure they won't suck at it. He's pretty sure they'll rock at it. Because he's got faith in his weyrmate, even if he doesn't have a lot of faith in himself. His arms tighten around J'en, holding him close as that faces presses into him and breathes him in. Whatever other concern J'en has, that goes unvoiced, is not contested by S'van. Rather than prompt him, he allows the unspoken worry to fade off and just holds him. Holds him, and kisses him, and does his best to provide support and comfort while he works through all those internal things. Was there ever a good time for babies? No. But maybe that makes it that much better. A distraction from the stress of the world. When the decision is finally made, there's a subtle little smile, J'en's smile, and a second kiss to those lips S'van loves so much. "Do you want to stay here, while I go get him?"

J'en couldn't help but to have reservations, even if they were somewhat quieted by the fact that S'van seemed to want to take this next step with him. It was no small step either, that much was clear. Still, there was a part of him that wanted to argue that this was untested waters, that the weyrsecond couldn't possibly know whether or not he would suck at being a parent, because he'd never really been one before. He'd pawned off one daughter, ignored another, and had yet to meet his other son. What others were out there that he didn't know about? On the other hand, fighting with S'van, not high on his list of things he really wanted to do. Right now, or ever if he was brutally honest. He'd rather hold him and be held, accept soft kisses and soft reassurance that they would kick ass at this whole parenting thing. J'en didn't have a clue just exactly how much hard work newborns were, only what he'd heard, and that was enough to stir up deeper worries he ultimately keeps to himself. His gaze lowered, he simply breathes into the space between them, those kisses he keeps getting making it hard to think. Maybe if he was clear headed, he might have considered the lack of sleep and sex that was likely to be headed his way like a freight train. Then, there was that smile, Sev's smile just for him and he knew that he was doomed. This man could talk him into anything, even taking on a kid. "Yeah, okay…" he breathes, mind already turned away from babies and instead to the sorts of activities that makes them. Bad brain.

In S'van's defense… he wasn't trying to talk J'en into raising a baby. He was just… trying to reassure him that he was 'in it' if he chose to go that route. Not just supporting his decision, but whole-heartedly agreeing to be a parent right alongside him. It's that final acquiescence that has him issuing one final, quick kiss before he murmurs a low, "Alright," and goes to stand. It requires J'en to give up his lap, which isn't something S'van really wants to do either, but… necessary. "Stay. Breathe. It'll be alright. I'll be right back," he determines, flashing another of those smiles at his weyrmate before he advances to the door. He's not gone long. Just long enough to get down to the garden, converse with the visiting weyrwoman, and return with a plus-one in his arms. He's got he basket in the crook of one arm, but the baby is in his other. And so it takes some finagling to get the door open, after which the basket is immediately dropped and nudged aside before he closes the distance. Even if Sev didn't raise his own children, he grew up with enough sisters raising theirs that he's kind of an expert at this whole baby-holding thing; comfortable and relaxed despite the tiny little human in his arm. "Do you want to hold him?" he asks, his voice dropped to that quiet hush that adults tend to use around infants that might be sleeping.

At least for now, J'en was going to exist in the thought that the only reason he was even considering this was because S'van wanted it, a chance to raise a kid together. It was the only way he wasn't going to just flat out refuse and send that goldrider packing back to High Reaches. Had he fallen in love with a woman, that choice would have been out of his hands, but because it was a man that shared his life there hadn't been any reason to entertain the possibility of kids being a part of it. If they decided, together, that they were going to do this for real? He wouldn't exactly be any less freaking out, internally screaming and all, but he'd have to get over it and do what he had to wouldn't he? This might not be exactly what S'van was after when he presented this scenario, but it was the best he could do, at least for now. Given time to acclimate and get used to the whole idea? Yeah, maybe. J'en just needed time, and that time that was moving awfully fast for him right now was not keeping him from looking a tad on the whiter side than when he'd first come into the office. As he's kissed and the muscles moving beneath him suggest that he needed to stand so his weyrmate could as well, he rises and steps aside to make room for the other man to get by. He only nod at final reassurances, breath he was told to take, stolen away by smiles that make his heart pound even harder. Did it show on his face how nervous and scared he was just then? He sure as hell hoped not. The second that S'van is gone, he exhales in a whoosh and panics a bit, at least thinking about running even if he doesn't actually do it. The weyrsecond's chair is stared at, but he doesn't sit in it. Instead he paces some, like a caged animal. He was going to fuck up this kid like his father had him, he knew it. He just knew it. It's the fiddling on the door handle that brings a wave of disorientation, requiring him to drop his backside onto the desk behind him, and that is where he is when S'van returns. Instantly, his eyes dart to the infant, and moving to help his weyrmate juggle things becomes impossible. Eyes that widen when its suggested he try and hold that tiny bundle resting so comfortably in the other man's arms, "Uh," he so intelligently replies, all his wits flying out the proverbial window, "I dunno 'ow…what if I break 'im or drop 'im, or squeeze 'im too 'ard…" Panic. Panic.

"You won't," break him, drop him, or squeeze him too hard. "He's so small right now," continues S'van, probably unhelpfully, "that he just kinda fits in the crook of your arm and stays there." The weyrsecond? Completely comfortable with that baby. But also not about to force his near to panicking weyrmate to hold him. "You don't have to," he assures, closing the distance and settling near enough to afford J'en a look at his son without (hopefully) making him feel threatened. "See? He's sleeping," he offers, affording the baby a tender sort of smile. It's not J'en's smile, (because that one is obviously for J'en and J'en alone) but it's certainly not an 'everyday, hello strangers' sort of smile that Sev would otherwise wear. Calloused fingers very carefully drift over that dark-haired head before he reaches out to touch his weyrmate. For support. For comfort. For love because damn it, Sev is an emotional guy and this is just too much. Seriously. It's his weyrmate's baby that he's holding (And sure, he held Sephany's child, and that was definitely an emotional overload as well, but this time J'en is WITH HIM). "What do you think?"

J'en? Totally not ready to hold that baby, nope. Just seeing him nestled in the crook of Sev's arm was making this way too real for him, and that was something that he wasn't going to get over simply because he wanted to. It did help, quite a lot actually, that his weyrmate was the pinnacle of calm and was toting that tiny human around like it was the most natural thing in the world. Relief also comes when he's not forced into taking the baby, scooting over enough so that the weyrsecond could sit beside him on the front of the desk, the way their bodies touched at their sides altogether rather rejuvenating if truth be told. This awards him as close a view of his son, peeking over at him out of the corner of his eyes and from behind lowered lashes. Admittedly, he becomes distracted from all his nerves and panic as he watches S'van smile and touch the baby he held, utterly at a loss as to what that feeling was that washes over him. He was trying to figure it out when he's touched, bringing about the response that's anticipated, but that startle is considerably less pronounced than it typically was and immediately afterwards he leans into him and rests his head on his shoulder as he hesitantly coils an arm around his waist. Loose, but certainly there. He loved S'van more than anything in the world and he certainly didn't feel threatened by something so small, even if the brunet was looking at him like that. It was just, different. A rough exhale, gaze falling back to the fist sucking infant, "Tell 'er to go 'ome, we'll keep 'im…"

"Are you sure?" It isn't that S'van questions his weyrmate's answer, it's that this was such a huge, massive, life changing decision that he wants to make sure that J'en really meant it, and wasn't simply saying it to satisfy S'van. Because yeah, Sev doesn't really want to give the baby back. But he doesn't want his weyrmate to make a decision he'll later regret, either. Only once that affirmation is given will Sev reach out to Aedeluth, requiring that the bronze pass along his message word for word to the golden Hysuth. If Irina wants to meet with him first, he'll agree. Otherwise, Sev is happy to pass along their acceptance of the child, and his assurance that they will raise him as their own, through dragons. Because he does not want to leave J'en again — not with him looking like he might panic. And he doesn't want to carry that baby all the way back to garden, or put the three of them (Four of them, with Riley) in a situation that had the potential to get super complicated and awkward. "We'll need to get some things," he murmurs, already skipping ahead to the necessities they'd need. "I can ask Jaz, she ought to know who can find what we need." And of course, he won't always be staying with them. They were both very busy bronzeriders. But that's what the creche and the nannies were for.

In reply, there is a gentle bob of Jae's head, busy otherwise with tracing his eyes over Riley's face. While he could barely remember what Irina looked like, he couldn't see anything but himself there, and how that would change as the boy got older wasn't something that he could predict. Sucking in a breath and slowly letting it out to calm his nerves, "Yeah, I'm sure." They had resources, it wasn't as if they'd crashed on a deserted island and had to fend for themselves, and they were both well established adults. Busy ones, but there was no reason they couldn't make room for a baby. Right? The cottage was certainly big enough, what with three unoccupied bedrooms upstairs, meant for guests who never came. He'd let the weyrsecond handle things with the High Reaches woman, perhaps not as enraged by her presence as he once was, but if they were going to do this than she needed to be out of the picture sooner rather than later and she shouldn't come back. Riley was now their son, Sev's and his, and she wouldn't be a welcomed part of that equation. It was good that the younger rider was staying, passing word along through Aedeluth, because J'en wasn't interested in being separated from him for even a second right now. He needed the continued reassurance of his presence, at least for a little while. Looking upwards, his brows twitch downwards. Of course baby's needed things, why hadn't he thought of that? Probably because his head was already reeling, but the suggestion does have his fingers curling into his weyrmate's shirt, "Yer gunna be able to take a couple days off, right?" There were other assistant weyrlingmasters and a weyrlingmaster to oversee his trio of weyrlings for a little while, but the thought of being alone with an infant he didn't know how to care for brings back the panic in a flash.

S'van has zero intention of going anywhere without J'en. He does have a pretty firm intention of getting out of the office, now that the decision has been made, if just because it's not really an environment that is suitable for a baby. He wants to get a jump on all those baby-necessities, get things settled at home, before he can even think about going back to real work. But there's a flicker of amusement, full of adoration, for his weyrmate's fingers in his shirt. "Yes," he calmly assures him, "I will take a few days off. It's going to be fine, Jae. Trust me?" The last is definitely a question, and not a demand; he's looking for confirmation that his words will be reassuring. "We'll go home and get Riley set up. I'll let them," the leadership, "know that I'll need a few days to get him settled in. "You're going to do great," he decides, leaning over to plant a kiss to his cheek. "Let's go home? Will you grab the basket?" Because Sev knows better than to offer over the baby. Even if he is bound and determined to get Riley into J'en's arms before the day is through.

Head sputtering around preparations that 'normal' expectant parents probably have settled before they take their newborn home, J'en is relying that S'van knew what they were going to need and how to get it. Quickly. He hadn't had a chance to go rummaging around inside of that basket any, but he's eyeballed it enough to understand it was being used to carry a baby and not baby supplies. What kind of mother hands over the kid she cares about and doesn't leave behind the things he needs to survive? As S'van confirms that he wouldn't just be dropping them off at home and returning to work, J'en is visibly relieved, and that grip of his lets up a little. As to the question of trust? "I trust ya," he replies, softly. And he did, implicitly. If he didn't, there was no way he would have agreed to taking on a baby with everything else that was going on and would be in the coming months. If S'van had faith that J'en could handle daily child care and not ruin or outright kill their son, then there was no reason not to take him at his word. The step by step process of what they were going to do was welcomed, keeping J'en from spiraling further, and giving him plenty to think about other than blind panic. So next comes another bob of his head, "Okay." S'van would have to tell the weyrleadership and he would have to tell the weyrlingmaster. Simple. Nice and simple. That kiss to his cheek bring out a nervous and gruff sounding chuckle in response to how great he actually thought it was going to be, realistically predicting it would be less than great, at least until he got more familiar with the daunting task ahead. He wanted to bite his weyrmate's face, or smoosh his face, but that there baby in his arms was the perfect deterrent. "Yeah, I got it." Giving the other man a squeeze, he removes his arm and slides off the desk, heading over to the basket and plucking it up off the floor. Peering inside, he doesn't find anything other than a folded up blanket, and there's still disappointment to be found in the drop of his shoulders. Great. This aside, he opens the door, waiting for S'van to cross through before following closely after.


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