Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Uma barely glances at her buzzing phone before swiping it open with one finger, putting it on speaker, and going back to her laptop. “Ahoy,” she says distractedly.

“THERE IS A CRYING CHILD IN MY FLAT.”

That finally pulls her attention away from her homework, and she stares at her phone like the screen will provide answers. “Your– what?”

“God, fine, it’s a fucking apartment, I’ve heard the–”

“I meant the kid!” Uma laughs. “Why the hell is there a crying kid in your apartment?”

“It’s Chad’s,” Harry says despairingly over the line, and now that Uma is listening she can hear a high-pitched, miserable wailing in the background. “How do I make her stop?”

A shock of cold horror freezes the laughter in Uma’s chest. “Holy… Chad has a kid?”

“What? Oh no, god, that’d be a nightmare. It’s his niece. Cousin? Niece. I think. I don’t know, she’s only a few months, her mum just dropped her off and ran, and I guess Chad was supposed to watch her for a few days but the bastard flew off to Hawaii at five this morning–”

Now that the terror of Chad’s potential parenthood is resolved, Uma can't keep from grinning. “The hell is Chad in Hawaii for? Wait, did this kid’s mom just leave her with you? Have you ever met her before?”

“No!” Harry cries. He sounds frantic. “I didn’t even know Chad had a niece! This could be a random stranger for all I know, and he’s still on a plane so I can’t ask him, because Audrey booty called him from across the goddamn ocean and now I have a baby out of nowhere!”

Uma is wheezing. She can't help it. Harry wails, rivaling the mystery baby for loudest noise, which does nothing to calm Uma down. 

“Uma!”

“I’m s-sorry,” she gasps, clutching at her stomach as she tries and fails to control herself. “It’s just, why does the weirdest shit always happen to you?”

“I swore off children,” Harry says miserably. “Please stop crying, oh my god, Uma, I’m serious, I don’t know why she won’t stop crying, do you think she’s sick, did this woman just drop a dying baby in my arms and leave–”

“It’s okay, I’m sure she’s fine,” Uma says soothingly, wild grin fading to something soft and fond. It’s hard to keep laughing when Harry is so obviously panicked. “Come on, you know what you're doing. You've always been great with kids.”

“That's a fucking lie. I've only ever been good with duck and you know it.”

Uma sighs. “She’s probably upset because her mom just left and the weirdo in charge is crying on the phone instead of whatever her usual routine is.”

“I’m not crying,” Harry sniffles. “What the hell is her usual routine?”

“I don’t know,” Uma huffs in exasperation, snickering again despite herself. “Were you not listening when her mom told you?”

“Uma, I shit you not, the woman said, ''You're not Chad,’ and I was like, ‘no, I’m his roommate,’ and she shrugged and handed me a bag and the baby carrier and was all, ‘tell him when he gets back that he said he would watch my kid this week’ and then she just left.”

Uma’s smile fades. “Seriously? That’s… damn, that’s pretty messed up.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees softly. “Shouldn’t just leave your kid like that.”

Uma sighs and looks longingly at her half-written essay, but she's climbing out of her bed before she even asks, “Do you want me to come over?”

“Ohmygodyespleasethankyou.”

She doesn't bother to change out of her pajamas—a faded Auradon University t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants that, now that now that she thinks about it, might have started out as Harry's—before she slips on a pair of sneakers, grabs her keys, and pads out the door, flicking off the speaker and holding the phone up to her ear as she walks down the hallway. “Did you eat yet? Need me to pick something up on my way over?”

“No, I already– oh my god, should I feed her?”

“At some point, yeah,” Uma says dryly. 

“No, I mean– is that why she’s crying, maybe? Because she’s hungry? I’ve got no clue if she’s eaten anything, if you can’t be bothered to keep track of your kids then god only knows if you’re remembering to feed them–”

“Harry,” Uma sighs. On the other end of the line, Harry takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Right. Okay. Um, I’m gonna see if there’s like, a jar of food or something in the bag. And then. Feed her that?”

“Good start,” Uma agrees. “Okay, and how long has she been there? Did you just leave her in the carrier?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits. Uma hears the baby’s crying get louder, then rustling that must be Harry digging through the baby bag. “But it’s just been a few minutes. I called you pretty much right away.”

“Good call on that one,” Uma says with a snort. “I’m getting in my car; I’ll be there in like five minutes. Do you have coffee?”

“I just bought some new K-cups,” Harry says distractedly. “This says I have to microwave the bottle. Should I… take her out of the carrier?”

“Probably don't have to just yet.” Uma cranks the car, groans when it doesn't start immediately, and tries again. This time it sputters to life, and she breathes a quiet sigh of relief. “Seriously, I'll be there in a few minutes. Think you can make it that long?”

“Yeah, probably, ” Harry mumbles. “Thanks, captain.”

Uma shakes her head with a smile. “See you in a bit.”

It's barely four minutes later that she’s pulling up in front of Harry's building; he and the boys live just barely off campus, and late Tuesday morning in the middle of spring break isn't exactly a busy time for traffic. She’s inside and heading towards the elevators a few seconds later, then halfway down the hall and letting herself into Harry's apartment. There is, she’s relieved to notice, no crying that she can hear. 

There was singing instead, Harry's familiar sweet voice crooning from the kitchen. Uma grins as she shuts the door behind her, toes her shoes off, and follows the sound. 

Her heart clenches almost painfully in her chest at the sight. Harry, rumpled and barefoot in a hoodie and jeans, hair sticking up like he’s been running his hands through it, is holding a tiny baby on his right hip and swaying gently as he sings a lullaby she doesn't recognize. His left hand he waves slowly back and forth, wiggling his crooked fingers in front of the kid’s face. 

“Hey,” Uma says softly. Harry glances up and waves, only for the baby to make an unhappy noise. He immediately goes back to tracing slow shapes in the air to keep her attention. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice moving slowly and rhythmically so he doesn't break the flow of the song even as he shoots Uma a wide-eyed, panicked look. “Mind mixing the bottle for me? Got nervous leaving her alone in there, then she stopped crying when I picked her up and I didn't want to risk setting her off again.”

“Yeah, of course.” Uma steps fully into the kitchen, snatching up the abandoned bottle and tin of powdered formula and glancing over the directions. Harry starts singing again behind her, soft and sweet, and Uma spares a moment to be grateful that her back is to him. He can't see the helpless, dopey smile on her face. “You're good with her.”

“Got enough experience,” Harry says, subdued, and Uma winces. “Haven't had to do this part since I was eight or nine, though. And you're a wee girl, aren't you?” he coos. “I don't think CJ was ever this small. No, no, she wasn't. But you're just a little wisp of a thing, huh? Sweetest thing I ever saw. And the loudest. Oh, look at that smile! There's my happy girl. You don't have to cry anymore, do you? No, that's right, the bad stuff is over now, isn't it. Yeah, it'll get better now, don't you worry.”

Uma swallows hard. She's heard that before. It's okay, CJ, it'll get better. The bad stuff’s all over now, see? Don't cry, duck. There's nothing to cry about now, we're okay now. 

“You know she's fine, right?” Uma asks quietly, punching in the numbers on the microwave and turning to face him, leaning back on the counter. “Like, she's okay.”

The gentle smile Harry had directed at the baby disappears when he looked up. “Her mum left her. Didn't ask any questions, didn't check who I am, just… up and left.”

He ducks his head and doesn't look back up. Uma sighs, pulls the bottle out of the microwave, and begins to carefully mix in the formula. “Are we sure she's even hungry? She seems okay now.”

“I… maybe?” Harry asks. “But yeah, okay. Little thing cries at the drop of a hat. Best not to break this if she's doing okay. You wanna just sleep, hm? Oh, look at you, can't keep your eyes open, no. That's all right, the captain and I'll take such good care of you. Yes, we will. You just go on to sleep now, that's right.” He trails off into indistinct coos and shushing noises, then finally looks back up and nods towards the living room. Uma follows, taking the bottle just in case, and watches as Harry sits down on the sofa so gently that the baby doesn't so much as twitch even when he shifts her from his hip to his lap, leaning back against his arm and chest. 

Uma’s a little jealous; it would be nice to be able to fall asleep so quickly. Maybe she could, if Harry would sing to and hold her at night. 

She brushes the thought away with the ease that comes from years of practice as she sits down next to him, softly as she can so she doesn't jostle the baby. “Are you okay?”

Harry blinks at her, and the shadows under his eyes are only made more prominent by his sleepy-pale skin. Uma sighs. 

“What time did you get in this morning?”

“Like… five. Ish. Closer to six, actually.”

“So you're running on about three hours of sleep. Great,” Uma says, rubbing her temples. “Do you– oh my god.” She's finally gotten a good look at the baby, and her voice comes out strangled as she asks, “Is she wearing glasses?”

“Oh, god, I know,” Harry says. “Look at them. Like wee purple swim goggles.”

“That… is the cutest thing I've ever seen,” Uma says, dazed. “Holy shit. Wait, can we swear in front of her? Is she gonna start cussing at us?”

“Not likely,” Harry says with a snort. “I don't think she's more than a few months old. Not about to start repeating everything we say. We're in the clear.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Uma says. “Should we, like, call someone? Do you report this kind of stuff to social services?”

Harry’s too careful to tighten his grip on the baby, but she feels him go stiff next to her. 

“No.”

“Harry–”

“No. You report this and she's just gonna get taken away and dumped off somewhere, and she'll be all alone with no one to take care of her and no one who gives a damn if she lives or dies, and anyone who does care won't be able to find her–”

He breaks off, and Uma slides off the sofa to crouch in front of him, one hand resting on his knee and the other gripping his elbow. “Hey. Harry. She is going to be fine. We'll take care of her until Chad comes back, okay? And then we'll figure something out to make sure everything is okay for her at home. That sound doable?”

Harry groans and drops his head. “Yes. God. I'm sorry, I'm trying to be normal about this.”

Uma squeezes his knee. “No normal for us. You've got your shit. You're allowed to freak sometimes.”

“Not freaking,” Harry sighs, rolling his head onto the back of the couch and closing his eyes with a grimace. “Freaking exhausted, though, and I kind of want to call CJ. Should I call CJ?”

“Her spring break isn't until next week,” Uma points out. “She'll be in class right now. You can probably text her.”

“Mm. In a minute.”

Uma feels herself softening as she looks up at Harry and the baby held carefully in his arms, the bent fingers of his left hand tapping a gentle, silent rhythm on her back. “You gonna fall asleep?” she asks in a murmur, and Harry snorts without opening his eyes. 

“‘M not falling asleep holding a baby; I'm not that good. I haven't exactly done this in a while, and I only trust so much to muscle memory.”

Uma hums and pats his knee as she stands up. “You got any coffee, at least? Because you look like you're about to die.”

“Yes, please,” Harry groans. “God, I'm not awake enough to have another kid.”

Uma rolls her eyes and hums as she makes her way back into the kitchen and prepares to spend a few minutes rummaging around for two mugs. Chad is something of a slob, and Gil and Jay are only a little better. She looks around in bafflement, then, at the clear counters and empty sink, wondering where their dishes and cups have gone, only to scoff at herself a second later. Harry’s had the apartment almost entirely to himself for three days already; of course the first thing he did was get it up to his almost terrifying standards of cleanliness. She finds the coffee cups all in the same cabinet, hanging neatly from small hooks that hadn't been there a week ago, and she can't help but smile as she pulled two mugs out. She'd wondered why Harry had begged out of movie night with her and Carlos. Apparently, he had taken his roommates’ absences as an opportunity to reorganize the kitchen. The rotating coffee pod rack on the counter is new, too. 

She turns the keurig on and pops in one of the tiny plastic cups. While she waits for the water to heat up, she spends a moment preparing Harry's mug with all the ridiculous additives he loves. It'll hardly be coffee by the time it's mixed with the vanilla ice cream and the drizzle of caramel sauce she's already spooned into the bottom of the mug, but it will at least cheer him up. She puts his in the machine first so the coffee will have time to melt the ice cream, then she pulls out her phone. 

Message to ca-SISTAH jane: Proof of life pic when you get a chance

CJ texts her back before Harry's cup is filled, a slightly blurry selfie that mostly catches her shoulders and the underside of her jaw where she's staring dutifully head. Uma grins as she looks at it. CJ must be holding her phone in her lap so her teacher won't catch her with it. 

Message from ca-SISTAH jane: is harry ok?

Uma types one-handed as she sets Harry's coffee to the side and replaces it with her own empty mug. 

Message to ca-SISTAH jane: Just stressed. You know how he gets. Go back to class, I'll text you later. Call at lunch maybe? 

Message from ca-SISTAH jane: ok sounds good tell him I'm fine and I love him

She stuffs her phone back into her pocket and walks back into the living room with the mugs, taking a bolstering gulp of her own coffee as she does. “I texted CJ. She sent me a selfie.”

Harry perks up at that, or maybe at the smell of coffee. Uma holds his cup out, waiting patiently until he can work his stiff fingers through the handle to take it, then pulls her phone back out to show him as she sits down. 

He mouths the words silently as he reads, then he sighs and sags back into the sofa. “Am I the most overprotective asshole on the face of the earth?”

“Asshole, yeah,” Uma agrees, grinning at the dirty look he gives her, “but I wouldn't say over protective. You don't, like, follow her to school or vet everyone she hangs out with. You just worry. Lots of people worry about their kids.”

“Sister,” Harry mutters, then moans happily as he took a sip from his mug. “Did you put ice cream in this? God, I love you.”

Uma laughs. “Bet you say that to all the girls who put a horrifying amount of sugar into your coffee.”

“No, just you,” Harry says, seemingly unaware of the way Uma’s stomach twists at the words. “I don't… really know what to do now.”

Uma shrugs and clutches her coffee close to her chest. “Right now, just let her sleep, I guess. Wait until Chad lands so you can call him to yell at him. And then just, I mean, keep an eye on her. You know how to take care of little kids.”

Harry groans quietly and drops his head back again to knock it gently against the back of the sofa several times. “I told you. I know how to take care of CJ. And she's fourteen now; it's not like this is something I was doing recently. I don't know what the hell this kid is all about. Favorite lullaby? Rocking or bouncing? When's her bedtime? What's she scared of and how do I make her not be scared of it anymore?”

He's spiraling again, voice going pitchy and frantic. Uma knocks her knee against his and tries for a reassuring smile when he looks at her. “Before we get into protecting her from evil, let's start small. What's her name?”

Harry's jaw drops and an expression of utter horror crosses his face. “Oh my god. I don't know. I don't even know this kid's name.”

“Woah, hey, okay,” Uma says, alarmed despite herself. “Stay cool. Chad will probably be landing soon, and once he does we can just ask– oh my god. Oh my god, we are so stupid.”

Harry shakes his head helplessly, and Uma groans. “Ben.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, then Uma goes scrambling for her phone. 

“Ace’s Pool Hall, this is Eight-Ball speaking.”

Uma sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Hey, Mal. Is Ben there?”

“Uh, yeah, somewhere. HEY, BEN?”

Uma swears and holds the phone out at arms length. “Keep your fucking voice down!” she hisses. “You're on speaker!”

“Sorry, geez,” Mal says. “What's up? What do you need Ben for?”

“Chad question,” Uma says, and she can almost hear Mal wince. 

“Oof, worst kind of question. What did he do now?”

“Turned me into a monkey’s uncle,” Harry says wearily. Mal snickers. 

“Hi, Harry. I have no idea what that– hey, have you seen Ben? Awesome, thank you. I have no idea what that means, but I'm really curious.”

Uma sighs for what feels like the hundredth time today. “Do you know if Chad has a niece? Or like, a really little sister, or something?”

“Uh, I think he has a cousin? I know he's got aunts, because they're nightmares, and I think one of them might have kids. Why?”

“Child abandonment,” Harry says flatly. “Poor orphan children flock to me.”

Mal bursts out laughing, and even Uma grins. “What the hell, Hook? Oh, Ben, hey. Harry and Uma are on the phone, say hi.”

“Hi, Uma,” Ben says. “Coochie coo, Harry.”

“Coochie coo,” Harry responds, then grimaces. “Ugh. That's a little on the nose right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Does Chad have a little cousin?” Uma asks. 

“Yeah,” Ben says. “Uh, Desiree, I think. No, wait, Dizzy? Yeah, Dizzy. Why?”

“She's currently asleep in my lap,” Harry says. “Because assholery runs in the Charming family, I guess.”

“I think Dizzy is technically a Tremaine,” Ben says thoughtfully. 

“Why the fuck do you have Chad’s cousin?” Mal demands, laughing. 

“I told you. Sad little babies gravitate towards me. How do you think you and I became friends?”

Mal only laughs harder. Harry cracks a tired grin, and Uma, as ever, smiles back at him. “Okay, but for real,” she says. “The kid's mom just dropped her off here like, what, a half an hour ago? Apparently Chad was supposed to babysit.”

“Isn't Chad in Hawaii?” Ben asks, and Uma looked over at Harry and mouths, what the fuck . He shrugs. Chad can't keep anything to himself; Uma isn't sure why she's so surprised that Ben knows about it. 

“Chad’s in Hawaii?” Mal asks. 

“Yeah, I woke up to a bunch of eggplant emojis, the palm tree emoji, and the high heel emoji. Audrey went there for spring break, so I guess he got a last minute invitation.” Ben's voice is drier than the dessert. Mal is nearly cackling. “So wait, you have Dizzy?”

“Yep,” Uma says. “And no way to get in touch with her mom, because she's in the wind, and no way to get in touch with Chad, because he's in the air.”

“Oh, that was clever,” Harry says. “I'd high five you if my hands weren't full.”

“And Harry hasn't slept in four years, which isn't helping.”

“Fuck you,” Harry grumbles. “I only started sleeping four years ago. I closed at the club last night,” he adds by way of explanation. “Made it in just before six and woke up to someone trying to punch through the door around nine.”

“Wait, she woke you up? You said you already ate before she showed up!” Uma snaps, smacking the back of her hand against his arm. “I would have gotten you breakfast!” Harry shrugs. 

“Honestly, I just wanted you over here faster. This is basically breakfast now, anyways.”

“Coffee is not breakfast,” Uma says. Harry raises his cup to her in a silent toast. 

“This has ice cream in it. Balanced meal.”

“God, you two are disgusting,” Mal says fondly. “You want us to try to track down her mom?”

“Yes,” Uma says, at the same time that Harry says, “Actually.” She looks over at him, eyebrows raised, and he refuses to look back at her. 

“I, uh, I don't know that things are necessarily great. At home. For her, with her mum.”

There's silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Ben asks, “You sure?”

Harry shrugs tightly. “I'd be the one to know, don't you think? For one thing, she left her kid with a complete stranger. She should be old enough to be eating soft food, but her mum only packed formula and there's only enough for a few days even though she said she'd be out of town for a week.  Kid's onesie is a mess, too. Doesn't look like it's been washed in a while. Nothing in the bag does. I don't–” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat before continuing steadily, “I don't think she's hitting her or anything. But she's not taking care of her, either.”

Dizzy makes a quiet noise, soft and sleepy, and Harry shushes her and pulls her closer. His mouth is set in a hard, tight line.

“Right,” Ben says. “I can call someone.”

“Try Chad’s mom,” Uma suggests, glancing at Harry out of the corner of her eye. “She has to have a way to get in contact with Dizzy’s mom, right? If they're sisters?”

“Maybe,” Ben says. “They're her stepfamily, I'm pretty sure. Chad doesn't talk about it a lot, but I don't think things were, uh, all that great for her either, growing up. Chad's said that they're not that close.”

“Close enough to leave her kid with him,” Mal points out. “We'll get in touch with her and get back to you guys. Do you need anything in the meantime? You said there's not enough food?”

“S’just formula and baby food,” Harry says tiredly. “I can get some. But thanks. Don't, um, call the… you know, the authorities or anything. I know that's horrible, I just –” He cuts himself off and looks down at Dizzy, rocking her gently in his arm. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Mal agrees softly. “I hear you. We'll keep it on the down low for now.”

“We might have to report it anyways,” Ben says. “But we'll poke around first. I know I've never, ah, what you... We'll check with Mrs. Charming before we do anything else.”

“Thanks,” Harry says. He still won't look up. “Appreciate it.”

“We'll keep you updated,” Mal says. “You two okay for now?”

“Yeah, she's just sleeping,” Uma says. “Real cute, though. She's got glasses. I'll send you a picture.”

“Oh boy,” Mal says dryly, “just what I always wanted: a picture of some rando’s four-eyed kid.”

“She literally bounced up and down when you said that,” Ben says. Then, “Ow! I'm filing a domestic violence report. Uma, Harry, you two are my witnesses, Mal just punched me.”

“I didn't see anything,” Uma says. 

“You're on the phone, matey,” Harry says. “We have no way of– oh, hey, sweetheart, you waking up? Look at you, pretty girl, you had a nice little nap there, didn't you? Uh huh. No, love, it's okay, you're okay. You want to try for that bottle now? Yes you do, there's a good girl.”

Uma grabs Harry's mug so he can slip his fingers out of it and snatch up the bottle instead. Dizzy, whose face has been screwing up in preparation to cry, lights up immediately. Harry coos. 

“What the fuck,” Mal whispers, sounding halfway between reverent and horrified. “The fuck did his voice just do?”

Ben just seems dazed. “I didn't know he could sound like that. Does this kid have superpowers?”

“What? No,” Uma says, frowning at her phone. Harry doesn't deign to answer, too busy humming and murmuring encouraging nonsense to Dizzy as she reaches up to hold her bottle. “Oh. I guess you never would have seen him with CJ when she was little. He's just like this.”

“Familiar territory,” Harry murmurs. “We'll talk to you guys later, eh? Gotta take care of her first. Do some shopping.”

“We'll let you know what we find,” Ben promises. 

“Please never talk like that where I can hear you ever again,” Mal says. 

Harry snorts. “Wasn't planning on it. You don't deserve my nice voice. Uma, my hands are full. Hang up on them.”

“You-–” is all Mal gets out before Uma ends the call. 

For a few long moments, the only sound is Dizzy drinking determinedly from the bottle, and Harry humming absently to her. 

He's the one who breaks the silence. “I know I said I didn't want to report it.”

“Telling Mal isn't the same as reporting it,” Uma says gently, and Harry snorts. 

“Telling Ben is.” He tentatively lets go of the bottle, and when Dizzy keeps her grip on it he sighs and brushes his fingers gently over her soft wisps of hair. “I just… If we keep an eye on her, maybe it won't be so bad, right? She's got family. They probably won't drop her in the system if she's got family she can go to, right?”

“Makes sense,” Uma says with a nod. “There’s gotta be some kind of next of kin thing.”

Harry opens his mouth, then goes pale. “What if they won’t take her? If they don’t want her, or they say no?”

“Woah, hey,” Uma says, reaching out to grab his elbow. “Calm down, it’s okay. We don’t know anything right now. If nothing else, you know the Darlings can take her for a while.”

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Right. Right, of course.”

“Harry,” Uma says. “Harry, look at me, come on.” He sighs but does turn his head towards her, opening one eye. Uma snorts. “Close enough.”

“What?”

“It’s okay,” Uma says softly, trying for an encouraging smile. It feels strange on her face, too bright and forced. She lets it fade to her normal Harry-smile, the one she doesn't usually show him, and he opens his other eye to look at her more closely. “It is okay that you’re scared,” she says. “You have every right to be. But we’re gonna take care of her, okay? You and me, and Ben and Mal, and Chad, once he lands and we can jerk him in a knot.”

“I know,” Harry mutters. “I know, it’s just…” His voice cracks. “She’s so little.”

“Yeah,” Uma murmurs, looking down. Dizzy has lowered her bottle now and is looking around the room, eyes bright behind her purple glasses. “But she’s got people looking out for her.”

Harry sighs. “We should probably go to the store and pick her up a few things. Just some food, and a few diapers. She doesn’t have much in the bag. God, and we should get her at least a couple of toys. Maybe some soap. When’s the last time you had a bath, eh?” He bounces Dizzy gently in his lap, and she lets out a squeaky giggle. “Oh, really? Yeah, then we should take care of that. Mhm. And throw your clothes in the wash while we’re handling it. Get all of you clean at once.”

“You want to head out now?” Uma asks, glancing at the time on her phone. Nearly ten now. “Or do you want to get changed first?”

“Put on a clean shirt, at least,” Harry says. “I spilled something on it last night, but I was too tired to change when I got home. I think it’s still just sitting on my floor. I'm pretty sure this is Chad’s hoodie, actually; it smells like Axe.”

“Is that what that is?” Uma asks, wrinkling her nose. “I thought he was just so excited about seeing Audrey that he doused himself in a bottle before he left. Ugh, yeah, then please change. I don’t want to be stuck in a car with you smelling like that.”

“Sweet talker,” Harry snorts. “Here, take the kid for a second, I’ll go grab something that’s not this. You got her?”

Dizzy handles the trade off with more grace than Uma, who's suddenly terrified that she's going to drop her. No wonder Harry was freaking out earlier; Dizzy barely weighs anything. Uma’s half worried she's going to break her in half just holding her on her lap.

“Wow,” she says weakly. “She… really is small.”

Harry hums in agreement, already on his way out of the room. “Be back in a tick.”

He is, still wrestling a dark t-shirt over his head as he walks. The second he gets within Dizzy's sight she lights up, and he swoops her up with a grin and settles her on his hip. “Well hello, Miss Dizzy,” he says. “Did you miss me? I certainly missed you. Oh, Uma, here.” 

Uma looks up just in time for a pair of basketball shorts to hit her in the face. She sputters and knocks them away, only to realize they're her own. When she raises her eyebrows at Harry, his lips quirk up in a grin. 

“I'm loving the casual look,” he says, “but I thought you might want something other than pajamas if we're going out. You left those last time you stayed over.”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Uma says, standing and wriggling out of her pants. She doesn't bother to feel embarrassed—or excited—changing in front of him; the two of them had moved well past modesty years ago. “That reminds me, are these yours?” she asks, nodding at the pajama pants that she folds and sets down neatly on the armrest for Harry's sake. He frowns and cocks his head to the side. 

“Maybe? Probably. You can keep them.”

That is exciting, setting off a few ridiculous butterflies in her stomach. She only nods and fishes her keys out of the pocket and stuffs them in her hoodie. “You wanna walk or drive?”

“Probably drive,” Harry says as he slips on a pair of tennis shoes. “She does not like being in that carrier—I'm pretty sure it's too small for her—but it's better than trying to walk a quarter mile just holding her. I can tote her around once we get there.”

Uma just hums and snags her own shoes, bending over to wiggle her feet into them without untying them, then hooking two fingers in the heels of Harry's so he can do the same. He doesn't look embarrassed either. She doubts there's much either of them could do that would make them uncomfortable in front of each other. 

“You ready to go on a little adventure?” Harry coos as Uma snatches up the carrier and they step out the door. “Let's see your best excited face.” He gasps and opens his mouth in an exaggerated smile. Dizzy lets out a happy shriek and waves her hands around wildly, and Harry sputters as she smacks his chin. Uma snickers. “All right, very excited,” Harry says. “It's just down the street. You think we can make it, matey? Think we're gonna be okay? Yeah, that's my girl.”

They're outside by then, and Uma opens the back door and gets the carrier carefully tucked behind the passenger seat. It doesn't buckle in, but when she reaches around and pushes the front seat back it does a decent job wedging it in place. Harry doesn't so much as glance at the front seat, simply straps Dizzy carefully into her seat and then hurries around to the other side so he can sit next to her. She begins sniffling and hiccuping the moment he sets her down, and Uma’s pretty sure the only reason she doesn't start wailing on the way to the Food Lion is the way that Harry keeps up a steady stream of chatter. His voice stays bright and cheerful, but when Uma glances back she can see the tightness around his eyes and the way his smile begins to look more like a grimace. 

She doesn't speed, but she may roll through a few stop signs. 

When she finally pulls into the parking lot, Harry is out of the car almost before she parks it, nearly running around it to get Dizzy unbuckled and out of the carrier. 

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” he coos. “You've had such a hard day. C’mere, let's get you out of there, eh? We'll let Captain Uma get a cart for us, yes we will. Mhm. There now, lovey, you don't have to cry. It's okay now.”

Uma snorts as she grabs the carrier and wiggles it out of the back seat. “Did I say I would get a cart?”

“I thought you'd prefer doing that,” Harry says dryly. “That way you can let me carry the crying child through the grocery store.”

“Getting a cart, got it.”

They're inside a moment later, Uma pushing a cart with the carrier dropped in it and Harry bouncing Dizzy slightly as they walk. 

“All right,” Uma says confidently, then pauses. “I have no idea what she needs.”

Harry frowns as he thinks. “Uh. Baby food. Diapers. Clean clothes? Maybe those plastic keys, or whatever toys they have.”

Uma nods, looks around, and starts pushing the cart in a random direction. It isn't a huge store. There have to be baby supplies somewhere, and she isn't going to ask directions. They find them quickly enough, and Uma nearly stumbles when she sees the wall of tiny glass jars. She looks over at Harry, who's staring in some mixture of horror and fascination. 

“There's so much,” he breathes. “I used to buy jars off, like, the thirty-cent rack. Stuff that was old, you know. This is so much. Hey, Dizzy, ah, what looks good to you?” Dizzy, who's currently chewing on her fingers, does not answer. Harry absently hooks his good finger around her wrist and tugs it away from her mouth. “Add a teething ring to the list.”

“Should we just… pick?” Uma asks doubtfully. “We probably won't need a lot, right? How much do babies eat?”

“I fed CJ however much we had on hand.” Harry seems to have landed on fascinated for the moment, drifting towards the baby food with wide eyes. “This is so much. Chicken and green beans. Turkey and gravy. You a Thanksgiving kinda girl, Dizzy? Turkey sound good? Are apples and zucchini a good flavor combination? Oh, god. Pear, purple carrot, and blueberry, with millet and quinoa. Uma, this is so much.”

“Yeah,” Uma says faintly. “Holy shit. That last one sounds… healthy. Like at least three of those. Let's get her, uh, the quinoa one and the carrot one?”

“That's all in one jar.” Harry sounds like he’s being strangled. “What am I supposed to do? Pick at random?”

“What did you used to get CJ?”

“Whatever I could afford!” Harry says. “I just stole change out of Dad’s wallet and got whatever was cheapest at the dollar store. Those all just had one food in them! Why is this carrot, banana, and mango? Has baby food gotten really complicated the last ten years or could I just never afford anything other than bananas and peas?”

“Are you two okay?”

Uma might scream a little bit. Harry definitely does, snatching Dizzy closer to his chest as he whirls around. There’s an older woman pushing a stroller standing a few feet away, hands raised in alarm. 

“Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You just looked a little, um, stressed.”

“I haven't had to buy baby food in thirteen years,” Harry blurts out. “I don't know what she's supposed to eat.”

Uma can see the woman looking Harry over and doing a little mental math, and her eyes soften at whatever conclusion she comes to. Probably the obvious one: overwhelmed big brother. 

“That's okay,” she says soothingly. “I can help you out. My name's Arianna. What's yours?”

Harry still looks stressed in a way that has to be painful by now, so Uma jumps in to introduce them. “I'm Uma,” she says. “That's Harry, and that's Dizzy.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry says weakly. “Please tell me what I'm supposed to feed her.”

Uma can't help her fond smile as she looks at him, the way his shoulders are slowly going loose with relief even as he holds Dizzy protectively close to himself. She doesn't seem to mind, now chewing on a loose fold of Harry's t-shirt. Arianna smiles too, sweet and comforting, every inch a mother. 

Well, grandmother, if the grey at her temples and the little kid clutching the back of her shirt are any indication. He and the baby in the stroller are definitely too young to be her kids.

“Nice to meet you, too. I'm guessing you don't know what she normally eats?”

“Babysitting,” Uma explains, when Harry just shakes his head mutely. “Uh, kind of last minute.”

“Right. You can probably–”

“What's wrong with your hand?”

All three of them jump and turn to look at the little boy now peeking out from behind Arianna. He has blond hair, a crooked little nose, and green eyes fixed squarely on Harry's left hand. Uma blinks and follows his gaze. She's gotten so used to them over the last four years that she barely sees them, but to a little kid, the surgical scars and permanently crooked fingers have to be shocking. He looks curious more than scared or concerned; Uma doubts he has any idea how serious an injury it was. Or, she thinks a little wryly, why it's the sort of thing you aren't supposed to ask about. 

Arianna, on the other hand, looks mortified. “Riley!” she hisses. “That is very–”

“No, no, it's all right,” Harry says, crouching down to the kid's level. “Can I tell you a secret?” he asks, and when Riley nods, Harry leans in close and whispers, “I punched Emperor Zarkon. Square on the nose.”

Riley’s jaw drops. Harry winks, then stands back up, looking loose and relaxed. Of course it would take a nosy kid to get him to calm down. He gets the question regularly enough that giving the same answer as always—with the occasional alteration from Star Wars to Doctor Who to Voltron, to match Riley’s t-shirt—must have gotten him back into familiar territory. 

“I am so sorry,” Arianna says. “He doesn't– we're going to talk about this later.”

“Aw, no, don't worry about it,” Harry says, smiling. “I'd have asked too, if I were his age. Being curious isn't a bad thing. Just be careful who you ask,” he adds to Riley, who's still looking up at him in awe. “Some people might be with the Blade of Marmora. You don't want to blow anyone's cover.”

Riley nods seriously. “I'll be careful.”

“Good lad.” Harry smiles at Arianna again. “I really don't mind; I get it a lot. But seriously, I don't have any idea what I'm supposed to feed this one.” He bounces Dizzy gently on his hip, and she squeaks around her mouthful of t-shirt. 

“Right, of course.” Arianna still looks flustered, and now she's also looking at Harry's hand, though she makes a valiant effort not to. Harry doesn't offer her an explanation. 

Arianna stays with them for a while, helping pick out food based on what her granddaughter Ginny, only a few months younger than Dizzy, prefers, then leading them over to pick out clothes, diapers, and toys. Harry still looks about as overwhelmed as Uma feels, but they're both content to follow Arianna around and nod while she picks things out for Dizzy.

“All right,” she says gently. “Is there anything else specific you can think of that she might need over the next few days? It’s unlikely you’ll need anything like a monitor or a playpen, but you’ve got toys, a few changes of clothes, and food there.”

“Uh, she’s teething,” Harry says. “They’ve got things for that, right? I used to have my sister just chew on a wet washcloth.”

“Yes, absolutely,” Arianna says, and reaches over to a seemingly random shelf and plucks up a small bag with a plastic ring inside. “You can keep this in the fridge. Don't freeze it, but keeping it cool will feel better.”

Uma takes it from her with a grateful nod and adds it to the intimidating pile of supplies in the cart. It isn't a lot, really, but definitely more than she had expected. 

“Let me pay for those,” Arianna offers. “It's a nice thing you're doing, watching her, and I really do feel bad about earlier. Plus, you two are in college, aren't you? No sense in spending more than you have to.”

She's too polite to say “broke,” even if that's the obvious conclusion, looking at Harry's ancient t-shirt and Uma’s beat up sneakers. Uma laughs, and Harry grins. 

“Nah, ma'am, don't worry about it.” Arianna opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off, waving his left hand a little as he says, “Emperor Zarkon owed me a fair bit in reparations after this happened. I’m hardly hurting for money.”

Arianna flushes, just slightly, but her jaw sets. “All the same. You’re doing a good thing on short notice. It’s not a question of whether you can pay for it, but whether you should. One good turn deserves another, and I really would like to get this for you.” Her lips twitch up into a small smile. “You can always donate whatever you end up not using. Pay it forward even further.”

Uma glances at Harry—his money, his call—and he shrugs. “Sure, then,” she says, “why not. Thanks.” 

They push their carts up to the register. The closer they get to the front, the twitchier Harry becomes, eyeing the cart uncertainly and then darting his eyes over at Arianna.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I mean, I really don’t mind, I swear I can afford it. You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind either,” Arianna says with a soft smile. “Really, it’s my pleasure. You two seem lovely, and you’re great with her. It’s the least I can do.”

Harry swallows hard enough that Uma can hear it, and she nudges him gently as she begins to drop things on the belt. “Hey,” she says, “keep the receipt and put the same amount in CJ’s grown up fund. Or twice that, if you want to indulge your guilt complex.”

“I don’t have a guilt complex,” Harry says. “It’s called being a good brother. Shut up. Yes ma’am,” he says to Arianna, looking deliberately away from Uma. She huffs. “If you’re sure it’s okay. Thank you, again.”

“No trouble,” Arianna says, already cheerfully sliding past them to scan and bag the groceries. “So you have a little sister?”

There it is. Uma's impressed that it took her so long to ask. Harry, every inch a proud brother, lights up.

“Yeah, CJ. She’s fourteen now. Almost through with her freshman year, smart as anything. Absolutely mad, of course; I used to get phone calls from her foster parents near daily asking what the hell—heck, sorry, Riley—they were supposed to do with her. One time, a few years ago–” He has to pause, laughing. “Once, her teacher called them to say she’d disappeared in the middle of the day, and of course we were all panicking, then the kid calls me from the vet’s office. Apparently she’d found a squirrel with a broken leg near the playground, so the crazy thing just up and took it to the vet instead of telling anyone. A squirrel.”

Arianna is smiling as Harry rambles on, quietly dropping the bags back into Uma’s cart and sliding her card into the chip reader while he's distracted. She's handed Uma the receipt and led them halfway toward the exit before Harry notices, still bragging happily about CJ, and Uma really is impressed now. Forget simple curiosity, Arianna had deliberately picked the topic that would distract Harry enough for him to let someone do something nice for him. Even Uma has a hard time doing that some days.

Thank you, she mouths, and Arianna winks at her. Dizzy makes an unhappy noise, and Harry finally pauses his proud rambling to look down at her. “Aw, you need a nap? Yeah, that sounds about right. You’ve had a big day. She can sleep on the bed, right?” he asks. “That’s okay? Just, I don’t have a crib for her.”

“That should be fine,” Arianna assures him. “I wouldn’t suggest sleeping on the bed with her, just to be safe, but she’ll be fine as long as you keep an eye on her.”

“Right, right, of course,” Harry says, shifting Dizzy a little higher on his hip. “I didn’t even like doing that when we were kids. Was always worried I’d roll over on her.” He snorts. “Might be an actual concern, now.”

“God, you were short,” Uma says, grinning at the memories of Harry having to climb on chairs and counters to reach anything higher than five feet off the ground. “He didn’t hit his growth spurt until he was like sixteen.”

“Stress stunts growth,” Harry says absently. “Thank you again, ma’am. Really.”

“Oh, no, it was my pleasure,” Arianna assures him. “I can see why you’re so good with her. You sound like you’re a wonderful brother.”

Harry flushes and looks away. That damn Harry-smile is sneaking onto Uma’s face again. She can't help it, not with the way he'll extol CJ’s virtues for hours but is barely able to accept a compliment for himself. Cocky and proud as he is, he's never quite figured out how to respond to someone actually agreeing with his bravado.

“Oh. Um, thank you. I try.”

“He succeeds,” Uma says cheerfully. “CJ talks about him the same way. But come on, we should probably put the kid down for a nap. And you need to sleep, too,” she adds, frowning at him. “I don’t know how you’re still up and walking. I’ll watch her; you can crash in Gil’s room.”

“Works for me,” Harry says. “Honestly, I don’t know how I’m up and walking. Adrenaline, I guess.” 

“Maternal instinct,” Uma suggests, and Harry scowls. 

“Not fair. You can’t say things like that when my hands are full. Dizzy, Dizzy, flip Uma off for me. No? Traitor.”

“I can!” Riley says excitedly, then proudly holds up both middle fingers. “Get fucked!”

“Riley!” Arianna cries, while Uma and Harry try not to fall over laughing. “Who taught you that? Did your dad teach you to say that?”

“No, Mom did,” Riley says, smile fading. “Am I not supposed to say it?”

“You are very much not supposed to say it,” Arianna says. “Oh, god, I have to talk to your parents about this. Harry, Uma, it was lovely meeting you. I have to get some groceries and then call my daughter. Have a wonderful day, and best of luck with Dizzy there.”

Uma grins and offers a lazy salute. “You too, ma’am.”

“Bye,” Harry manages, still giggling. “Bye, Riley. Keep fighting the good fight.”

“Form Voltron!” Riley bellows. Harry is still laughing as they leave the store.

“Oh, god,” he wheezes as he climbs back into the car, strapping Dizzy in with practiced ease. Dizzy seems too tired to fuss about it now, just whines a little then settles down. “Get fucked. Christ.”

“Can’t believe a five-year-old just flipped me off,” Uma says with a snicker. “What is this day?”

“Getting weirder and weirder,” Harry agrees. “All right, let’s ride. Two thirds of us need naps.”

“You good if I swing by the dorms first?” Uma asks, glancing over her shoulder as she backs out of the parking space. “I’m gonna need my laptop and shit if I’m bunking down at yours for a few days.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Harry protests automatically, and Uma raises her eyebrows at him in the mirror until he sighs and leans back in his seat. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“Cool. You need anything?”

Harry huma. “Not that I can– no, wait, get me Killer. It’s my turn.”

“Normally I’d argue with you on that, but honestly, you deserve him,” Uma says. Harry doesn't respond, and a quick glance over her shoulder shows him leaning his head back against the seat rest, blinking slowly as he keeps half an eye on Dizzy. He's drowsing by the time she pulls up to the dorms, and she leaves the car running and closes the door behind her as quietly as she can when she slips out of her seat.

It only takes a few minutes to throw her laptop, a few notebooks, and an extra pair of underwear in her backpack. She doesn't need much else if she’s only staying for a few days; she already keeps shampoo and a spare toothbrush over at Harry’s, and she can always come back by if she needs something. Once she has the backpack slung over her shoulder, she extricates a stuffed shark from the mess of blankets on her bed and tucks it carefully under her arm.

Harry jerks when she climbs back in the car. Dizzy makes an unhappy noise but settles back to sleep a second later. 

“Ugh,” Harry mumbles, scrubbing at his face. “Did I actually fall asleep in your car?”

“In like the five minutes from the grocery store to here, yeah,” Uma says with a grin. “Let’s get you two back to the apartment and a bed. Got a couple of sleepy babies here.”

“You’re hilarious,” Harry says, sarcastic tone undercut by a jaw-cracking yawn. Uma snorts and doesn't bother to reply.

When they got back, Harry once again takes Dizzy’s carrier while Uma totes the bags up. “You want to crash on the sofa or in one of the guys’ rooms?” she asks once she’s set the bags in the kitchen. Harry shrugs as he picks Dizzy up from the carrier and leads the way to his room, carefully pulling her glasses off as he goes.

“I dunno when any of them did their sheets last. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Works for me.”

Harry’s room is just as carefully tidied and organized as the kitchen, other than the rumpled sheets where he hadn’t had time to make his bed before the morning exploded on him. He twitches a little when he sees it, and Uma drops her backpack on the floor so she can straighten the blankets for him. A quick glance shows the sheets are still carefully tucked into their hospital corners, so all she has to do is tug the blanket back into place and rearrange the pillows evenly against the headboard.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles. “I know it shouldn’t– thanks.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Uma says dismissively. “All right, let’s get the kid in bed before she wakes up for real and we lose our window.”

“Make it sound like she’s a military operation,” Harry says with a grin, but he sets Dizzy down as gently as she’s ever seen him with CJ, hands fluttering over her for a moment while she squirms and fusses. She latches onto his right pointer finger, and his face goes impossibly soft.

Uma looks away. “Hey, you go sleep, too. Honestly, I feel like you might need it more.”

“I definitely need it more,” Harry says, carefully removing his finger from Dizzy’s grasp as she settles. “There you go, love. That’s right, you just settle down now. You sleep, and we’ll be here when you wake up. That’s a good girl, mhm.” He sighs, runs his hands down his face, then spins around and stumbles out of the room without another word. A minute later, Uma hears a soft thump as he flops onto the sofa. He probably flung himself onto it, the drama queen, stuffed shark in one arm, and dragged the fluffy blanket off the back of it to pull it over his head. 

Uma sits down on the floor. She doesn't want to climb onto the mattress and risk waking Dizzy up; instead, she leans back against the bed, pulls out her laptop and notebook, and gets to work on her essay. 

It's barely an hour later that she hears a muffled shout and a thud from down the hall. Before she has time to do more than look up, Harry is standing in the doorway, pale and wide eyed. 

“CJ?”

“She's at school,” Uma says. “We texted her earlier, remember? She's gonna call you at lunch.”

“School,” Harry repeats faintly. “Why's she in…?”

“Harry,” Uma asks, heart beating faster even as it sinks, “do you know where you are?”

Harry swallows as he grips the doorframe and looks around vaguely, eyes not focusing on anything. “I'm… what?”

“You had a bad dream,” Uma says. “CJ’s at school. You and me are at your apartment. We're babysitting, remember?” 

Harry's brow furrows. “Wait, so… so dad’s– where?”

“He's in prison,” Uma says, voice firm because she refused to let it shake. “He's not anywhere near you. Or CJ.” Harry doesn't answer. “It's 2019,” she adds.

“Right,” Harry says slowly. “It's… and that's… Dizzy. Because we're babysitting Chad's… cousin?”

“Right,” Uma says, only just holding back a relieved sigh. “She's asleep right there if you want to check on her.”

Harry takes a few hesitant steps forward, craning his neck so he can see Dizzy without having to risk getting too close to the bed. If Uma’s heart hadn't already broken a thousand times over him, that painful caution might just have done it again. 

“Right,” he says. “Right. Okay.”

“You wanna sit?” Uma asks. “Plenty of floor here.” Harry glances over his shoulder. Uma does sigh this time. “You know you're not gonna fall back asleep. Might as well hang out where you can keep an eye on her.”

“Okay,” Harry mumbles, then carefully lowers himself to the floor next to her. He rolls his left wrist, flexing his fingers as much as they can move, and Uma gently swats his hand to make him stop. 

“You're just gonna make it cramp up.”

“Oh.” He looks down at his own hand like he’s surprised to see it. As confused as he was when he woke up, he might actually be. “Didn't realize I was.”

“Pick a nervous habit that doesn't involve messing with your busted hand,” she scolds. Harry nods and brushes the fingertips of his right hand over the back of his left in what looks like a silent apology. 

“Sorry.”

“Better be apologizing for your hand, not for having a nightmare,” Uma says. Harry winces, and she softens. “You okay?” He nods. “You wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head. 

“Same thing as always,” he says. He sounds more exhausted than he had before he fell asleep. She can't blame him. “You know.”

“Yeah.” Uma leans over, pressing her shoulder against his arm. After a few long seconds, he relaxes and leans back into her until they're pressed together the way they should be. “You want to listen to me ramble about this paper I'm writing?”

Harry drops his head back against the mattress, smiling. “Yeah. Let's hear it.”

“Okay, so I went by the nursing home to interview some of the residents…”

To his credit, Harry does try to listen. To Uma’s credit, she manages to lull him back to sleep anyways. Her interviewees had some interesting stories, but she skips over them to discuss the mechanics and technicalities of what she's studying. Harry ends up slumped over next to her, his head resting on her shoulder despite the height difference. It'll be hell on his neck later, but she would rather he deal with a pinched nerve than no sleep. 

It isn't until Dizzy starts making noise that Harry finally stirs, mumbling a little before he finally picks his head up. 

“Why’m I on the floor?” he asks, blinking around at his room. Uma leans into him a little more, because he won't like what she's about to say and she can't hug him properly when he’s accidentally pinned her arm to her side.

“You had a bad dream, I guess. Came in here to hang out. Not sure you really woke up at any point.”

Harry grunts but doesn't answer, too busy clambering to his feet to check on Dizzy. “Hey, sweetheart,” he mumbles, carefully picking her up. “How was that nap, huh?”

Uma stretches and stands up after him, frowning at the way Dizzy squirms and fusses in Harry's arm. “She doesn’t sound happy.”

Harry nods tiredly. “Yeah, her diaper feels full. Can you go get the bag?”

“Sure,” Uma says, slipping past him. She hadn’t actually put any of the bags up, just left them on the kitchen counter—Harry might kill her for it later, but it didn’t seem worth putting anything away when they aren't going to need it for long—so it only takes her a minute to rifle through them and pull out the diapers and baby wipes. After a moment’s thought, she snags up one of the new onesies and a pacifier before going back to the bedroom. 

Harry had joked about treating Dizzy’s nap like a military operation, but the grim set to his mouth as he lays out the supplies make him look like a soldier preparing for war. “Right,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “It's been a long ass time, but I think– aw, hell. My hand.”

Uma winces. “Ooh, yeah. All right, scoot over. I can do it.”

“I probably can,” Harry says, even as he steps to the side. “It would just… take me a minute. To figure out how.”

“It's fine,” Uma says. “No point in making her wait. I'll handle this, you keep going with the whole, like, emotional side of things.”

Harry glares at his hand and stuffs it in his pocket. It isn't often these days that he comes across something it truly hinders him on, and she knows he must be frustrated by bumping into one. He's right, of course; he could definitely change Dizzy. But it would take him a few minutes to figure out, and it isn't fair to leave her in her own mess while he does. Uma isn't sure she'll be much better with how long it's been since she's done this, but muscle memory takes over and a minute later she’s closing the snaps of a clean new onesie over Dizzy’s fresh diaper. 

“Well, that's better,” Harry says. Dizzy scowls at him, apparently offended by the statement, but seems to melt when Harry quickly offers her the pacifier. She sucks it into her mouth and wiggles happily, and Harry hauls her up into his arms. “There you are, happy girl. We got you some toys, you wanna see? That's right, let's go have a little play date.”

Uma follows him to the living room, laptop and backpack in tow, and helps him spread out the throw blanket and a handful of pillows on the floor. He sets Dizzy down, leaning upright in a mountain of decorative pillows and one very old stuffed shark, then slips into the kitchen. 

He pokes his head out a moment later, frowning. “Did you just leave all the bags out on my counter?”

Uma winces. She had forgotten about that. “Yeah, sorry. We were in a hurry. There's nothing perishable.”

Harry glances over his shoulder, sighs, then disappears back into the kitchen. When he returns a moment later, it's with all three bags slung over his left arm. He sets them down on the edge of the blanket, carefully out of Dizzy's reach, and begins to pull out the toys they bought her—plastic keys, a cardboard picture book, some squeaky, rubbery thing that Ariana had assured them wasn't a dog toy, a soft stuffed bunny. The book has patches of fur and fake scales on each thick page. Uma is a little obsessed with it and spent the entire time in the grocery store running her fingers over the textured pages. 

Harry eyes the pile of toys critically, nudges the keys closer with the toe of his foot until Dizzy notices them and picks them up, then nods to himself and stands. “Her glasses are on the table, would you get them back on her?”

“Where are you going?” Uma asks, bemused, but she drops her backpack on the sofa and sets about getting Dizzy able to see again. Dizzy claps excitedly when the bright purple glasses are settled on her nose, chubby hands tapping lightly against each other, and Uma grins helplessly. God, she's cute. 

Harry picks up the diaper bag, abandoned by the door, and gestures with it. “Gonna get this organized, put the new stuff in. No point in leaving it a mess.” His fingers are white knuckled on the handle. 

“Harry,” Uma begins, but he shakes his head. 

“Look, I know, okay, but I just– I can't do anything, and I'm tired, and this isn't scrubbing the baseboards a third time in two days, right? It's something that actually needs cleaning. ” He swallows hard enough that she can hear it. “It's okay for now.”

He says it like a question. Uma sighs. “Yeah, I guess. Did you really scrub the baseboards twice?”

“They didn't get clean the first time,” he mutters, sitting down across from her with Dizzy in between them, happily chewing on one of the brightly colored keys. “But the rest of it was normal, I swear. I've been meaning to do the kitchen up for ages.”

“It does look nice,” Uma offers. “I like the coffee cup hooks.”

“Yeah, I saw that on Pinterest,” he says distractedly, pulling things out of the diaper bag and setting them out in a neat line, then doing the same with the bags from the grocery store. Uma doesn't even pretend to understand his organization system, but his shoulders slowly relax as he sorts through everything, folding the new onesies and carefully stacking the jars of food. 

Dizzy seems happy to chew on her new toys; whenever she gets bored, Harry or Uma pick up the keys or the rabbit and wave it around until it catches her attention. Uma goes back to her computer, and Harry examines every pocket and divider in the bag before he starts refilling it. 

It isn't much later that his phone rings. Uma grabs it off the coffee table and tosses it to him without looking at the screen, and Harry catches it and answers the call without looking up from the toys he's pulled out of the diaper bag. 

“Ahoy, duck. Yeah? No, I'm fine. Uma's here, let me put you on speaker.”

“Ahoy ahoy!”

“Hey, CJ,” Uma says. “How's your day going?”

“Well, you asked me for a proof of life selfie earlier, so I'm kind of worried, actually.”

“I'm fine,” Harry repeats. 

“Uh huh.”

“He really is,” Uma assures her. “We just had… a stressful morning. Wait, lemme send you a picture.” She pulls her own phone out of her pocket and whistles. “Hey! Dizzy! Over here, girl!”

“Did you get a dog?” CJ asks. Harry snickers. 

“She's a baby, Uma,” he says dryly. “She won't come when you whistle.”

“Did you get a BABY?”

“Kind of.” Uma gives up on pulling Dizzy's attention away from her rabbit and settles on a picture from the side. She sends it off to CJ, then, after a moment’s thought, forwards it to Mal.

“Holy shit.”

“Basically,” Harry agrees.

“Okay, she's really cute and I love her glasses, but literally why do you have a baby?”

“It's Chad's cousin.”

“How did you end up with Chad's cousin? Isn't he in Hawaii?”

“How does literally everyone know that?” Uma asks. “Please tell me he didn't text you, too.”

“It's on his Twitter. Why do you have a baby?”

“Chad was supposed to watch her, I guess,” Harry says. “And her mum wasn't all that bothered to see it was me. Just dropped Dizzy off and ditched.”

There's a long pause before CJ asks, voice small, “She just left her?”

Harry sighs. “Handed me the baby and disappeared.”

“That's shitty.”

“Yeah.”

“We're trying to get in touch with her,” Uma says, cutting in before the two of them can spiral. “Ben has her number, but she's not picking up. I think. I actually haven't heard from him or Mal.”

“Mal would let you know if they had,” CJ says. Uma can practically hear her shrug. “She's the worst, but she wouldn't leave you hanging on something like this.”

“Mal is not the worst,” Harry scolds, and Uma looks down to hide her grin. Twelve years later and it's still funny to hear him suddenly switch to talking like a disapproving soccer mom. “Mal’s great. We like Mal.”

“You like Mal,” CJ says huffily. “I don't, and you can't make me.”

“I know I can't,” Harry says, amused. “But you don't have to be rude about it. Play nice, eh?”

“I play nice!” CJ protests. “But I'm not playing with Mal right now. She's not here, so I don't have to.”

“Can't argue with that logic,” Harry mutters. “How's your day going, then? You had a math test, right?”

CJ groans so loudly that it covers the sound of Uma's phone buzzing in her hand. 

Message from dragon breath: Call me. Don't tell Harry yet he might freak 

“Hey,” Uma says quietly, pocketing her phone as subtly as she can. “I'm gonna go make us lunch. You got fish sticks?”

“Of course I have fish sticks, I'm not a monster,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “I've got fries, too. You need any help?”

“Nah, they're just fish sticks. You watch the kid. Later, CJ,” she adds, raising her voice so CJ can hear. 

“Okay, bye! Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

“What kind of dumbass question is that?” Uma scoffs. “Of course we're on for Wednesday night, when are we not?”

“When you have a mystery baby that needs watching?”

“Oh, yeah, shit.” Uma grimaces. “Uh, I'll let you know, then. We'll probably have her out of here soon. Harry, you good?”

He waves his hand at her distractedly. “Yeah, I'm good. Look, duck, it's great that you can do it in your head, but if the teacher asks you to show your work and you don't–”

Uma pulls the fish sticks and fries out of the freezer as loudly as she can to, hopefully, cover the sound of her phone call. 

“Hey,” Mal says. 

“Hi,” Uma whispers back. “What happened and why am I not allowed to tell Harry?”

“You can tell Harry. I just didn't want to, because it's a lot and I didn't want to, I don't know, upset him? He's got his stuff.”

Uma slams down a sheet pan harder than she means to. “What do you mean, ‘stuff?’”

“You know what I meant,” Mal says wearily. “I know we don't talk about it. But this is a messy situation, and I don't want to mess him up, okay? We all know I'm not necessarily the most, uh, tactful.”

“Okay, fine,” Uma says stiffly. “So what's so messy about it?”

“Mrs. Charming hasn't been answering her phone because she's in Auradon,” Mal says. “With Drizella.”

“Who?”

“Oh, uh, Dizzy's mom.”

Uma frowns, setting the oven to bake then scooping handfuls of frozen sweet potato fries onto the tray. “Why? What's going on in the big city?”

“Hold onto your butt, they're in family court.”

Uma pauses. In the next room, she can hear Harry laughing at some story CJ is telling him. “Family court?”

“The Charmings are adopting Dizzy. Drizella’s signing over her parental rights tomorrow; that's why she's out of town. They both are.”

“Because we don't have a courthouse,” Uma realizes, dazed. “So– so Dizzy's–”

“She's fine,” Mal confirms. “Her mom's definitely been doing a shitty job, but she knows it and she's trying to do better. The whole thing was her idea.”

Uma clutches at the counter with her free hand, suddenly weak kneed. “She's gonna be okay. She's going to a good family, and she's gonna be okay.”

“Yeah. She's gonna be okay.” Mal’s voice is the gentlest Uma has ever heard it. When Uma doesn't answer, Mal asks hesitantly, “Are you okay?”

“I didn't think I was this worried about it,” Uma says faintly, then squeezes her eyes shut against the unexpected burn of tears. “I just– I didn't want to see her get hurt because her mom left her somewhere bad.”

“Nowhere bad,” Mal says. “Drizella’s not even completely leaving; she's still gonna be around. Just not with custody. Besides, she gave her to basically the best parents on earth.”

“You sure about that?” Uma asks. “They raised Chad.” Her voice comes out shaky, but Mal snickers and Uma manages a weak laugh. “So it's really okay. She's going somewhere safe, and no one's going to hurt her.”

“No one's going to hurt her,” Mal repeats firmly. “She's being totally taken care of.”

Uma glances over her shoulder before lowering her voice even further. “What about her dad?”

“Not in the picture,” Mal says immediately. “Ben asked; they weren't together long and they broke up before Dizzy was born. Drizella never even told him she was pregnant, and she hasn't talked to him since then. His name's not on the birth certificate. He's not a bad guy, from what she said, but even if he is, he has no parental rights and she doesn't think he even knows where they are.”

“Okay,” Uma says. “Okay, I just– I need to tell Harry. He's gonna… Because he's been worried, you know? And he, knowing she's okay, and, and that he doesn't have to– have to be–” Her voice breaks, and she presses her hand over her mouth like she can push back the sob she feels rising in her throat. 

“Uma,” Mal says softly. 

“I've been so scared,” Uma gasps, trying desperately to keep her voice down so Harry won't hear her crying. “If things were bad– Mal, I couldn't have sent her back, but I didn't know what to do, and I just kept thinking about Harry and CJ and– shit, damn it, I don't need to be crying. It's fine, it's fine.” She swipes at the few tears on her cheeks then laughs again, wet and shaky. “Guess I've got my stuff, too.”

Mal hesitates, then says slowly, “I mean… you did kind of go through it with them.”

Uma snorts. “Hardly. No one ever stomped on my hand.”

“Watching is hard, too, Uma. But Dizzy's okay. And so is Harry, and so is CJ. Breathe.”

Uma drops her head and sucks in breath after careful breath until she feels less like she's going to shake apart. Mal hums on the other end, some meandering tune Uma doesn't recognize but focuses on like her life depends on it. 

“How long are they going to be out of town?”

“Just until tomorrow night. Probably pretty late, it's a trek from here to Auradon. And now I have to ask you a kind of unfair question.”

Uma sighs. “Will we watch her until then?”

“Yup. Mr. Charming’s out of country, and Chad's, you know. Even if he turns around the second he lands he won't be back until late, and honestly, you guys are probably the better option for watching a baby.”

Uma shudders. “Yeah. Why leave her with Chad, anyways? That… doesn't sound like a good idea.”

“Something with the judge, I think? She had to stay with family, but they didn't want it to be anyone on Mrs. Charming's side, and like I said, her husband's out of town. But, you know, it's Chad.”

“Yeah.” Uma sighs and goes back to dumping fish sticks on the tray. “Okay, anything else I should know?”

“Not that I know of. Let me know if you can keep her, though.”

“Will do. Let me just talk to Harry first.”

“Take a second to calm down before you do. He'll flip his lid if you talk to him looking like you were just crying.”

“Fair point,” Uma says, sniffing and wiping her cheeks again. “I'll call you back and let you know.”

“‘Sure.”

“Hey,” Uma adds quietly. “Thanks.”

There's a long pause on the other end before Mal finally mumbles, “Thanks for the picture. Her glasses are really cute.”

Without another word, she hangs up. Uma stares at her phone for a moment, then snorts, slips it back into her pocket, and sticks the food in the oven. She takes another minute to breathe and calm herself down, scrubs her cheeks one last time to be safe, then spins on her heel and walks into the living room. 

Harry is determinedly not looking at her as he carefully folds tiny pairs of socks together. His face is tight, and his shoulders are tense and still. “Everything okay?”

“Did CJ have to go?” Uma asks. 

“Yeah.” He doesn't offer further explanation. “What happened?”

Uma sits down next to him and absently shakes Dizzy's keys in front of her until Dizzy grabs them and begins happily gnawing. “Mal called.”

Harry does look up at that, only to dart his eyes back down at Dizzy's socks. “What'd she say?”

His voice is carefully casual. His shoulders hunch further. 

“She's okay,” Uma says. “Dizzy is. Or, I mean, she's going to be.” Harry doesn't relax, and Uma frowned. “Did you hear me talking?”

“Heard you crying.” 

Uma winces. “Good crying,” she says. “It's good news, Dizzy's getting adopted. By the Charmings, too; that's why Chad was supposed to watch her.”

Harry’s gone still. He still doesn't look up. “Her mum?”

“Willingly signing over her parental rights,” Uma says, then added, “And the dad's not around at all, doesn't even know he has a daughter,” before Harry could ask. 

Harry does look at her then, eyes wide and lost. “So she's… she is going to them, then? The Charmings?”

Uma leans over to bump her shoulder against his arm, then simply stays there, leaning against him. “Yeah. Turns out that was the plan the whole time. Great minds think alike, I guess. Pretty sure the mom is sticking around, too. She's not just, uh, leaving for good.”

Harry snorts. “You can say ‘abandon,’ I'm not going to burst into tears.” He drops his head, though, and lets out a long, shuddering breath. “So basically she's fine and we've been panicking over nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Uma says with a shrug. “We didn't know. Had every reason to be worried.”

“Didn't realize you were,” Harry mutters. Uma freezes, and he snaps his head up to look at her with wide eyes. “Not in a bad way! Just. I've been a basket case all day, and you've been handling everything so well. I just– sorry, yeah, that was stupid of me. I don't mean you don't care, just that you've been a damn sight calmer about it than me.”

“Of course I was worried,” Uma snaps. “How could I not be? I didn't want her to go back to someone who was hurting her, but putting her in the system…” She trails off, then says quietly, “I lost CJ, too.”

“I know.”

“I care, asshole.”

“I know. God, I'm sorry, I'm a dick.” Harry finally drops Dizzy's socks so he can scrub at his face with shaking hands. “I do know that,” he says, dropping his hands into his lap. “You care more than anyone I've ever met.”

“You ever seen yourself?” Uma asks dryly, but she relaxes against his side.

Harry snorts. “Not sure I count, seeing as I only really care about two people.”

That was a lie—Uma's seen him with Mal, with Ben, with Gil and Jay and every other member of their makeshift family—but it isn't a point she was willing to fight right now. She feels like a stretched rubber band slowly shrinking back to shape, loose and sore at the sudden release of tension.

Harry presses his cheek to the top of her head. “So. She's getting adopted, huh?”

Uma huma, watching Dizzy through half-lidded eyes. “Yeah.”

“That's good,” Harry murmurs. “Chad's parents are good people. I've heard him talk about them.”

“Mal wants to know if we can keep watching her,” Uma says. “Just today and tomorrow. She said they should be back in town tomorrow night.”

Harry sighs. Uma wants to turn and look at him, but she doesn't want to move from where she is, either—side by side, her head on Harry's shoulder, his head on hers, and her heart twisting in her chest just like always. 

“Guess we can,” Harry says. “I'm off until Thursday night, and there's no point in shuffling her off to someone else for just a day.”

Dizzy chooses that moment to drop her keys, which land on the soft blanket with a muted clatter. Harry and Uma both jump, and Dizzy, now that she has their attention, sniffles loudly. 

“Oh god,” Harry says, right before Dizzy opens her mouth and begins to cry. There's no buildup; she goes from playing quietly with her toys straight to high, squeaky screaming, tiny hands clenched into fists. Uma winces, and Harry swears and begins digging through the bag. 

“Bottle, bottle, where'd I put the bottle–”

“Where'd her pacifier go?” Uma demands, scrambling up to her knees so she can look around the blanket. “I didn't even see her drop it!”

Harry pulls out the half-open blister pack of pacifiers and fumbles with it until he's able to tear the plastic back and pull one out to hold it up to Dizzy's mouth. “Okay, here, here, come on, Dizzy girl–”

The sudden silence is almost more jarring than the crying. Uma slowly drops back onto her heels, eyes wide. When she looks at Harry, it’s to see a grimace on his face as he continues digging through the bag. 

“Maybe we shouldn't be watching her,” he says guiltily, “considering we've had her for hours and only given her the one bottle.”

“Oh my god, we're the worst,” Uma groans. “You get her some food out, I'll fix another bottle. Does she need both?”

“I'd like to remind you that I haven't fed a baby since CJ was a baby, ” Harry grouses. “I have no idea. Probably? Go with yes.”

Uma goes with yes. By the time she's washed out the bottle, refilled it, and gone back to the living room, Harry has Dizzy in a bib and has already made a dent in a jar of something orange and mushy. She eats happily, clearly content now that the problem has been solved, and Uma feels another pang of guilt. 

“We'd be really shitty parents, wouldn't we?” she asks, sitting down next to Harry again and setting the bottle down by his knee. 

He shoots her an odd smile. “Would we be?”

“Well, you'd be okay,” Uma says with a shrug. “I'd be the type to forget my kid in the mall.”

Harry snorts and gently nudges the spoon against Dizzy's mouth until she takes it. “I'd love to argue, but you've left me at the mall before.”

Uma groans, but she can't fight back a grin. “Look, I'd had a long week and a lot of caffeine, and you wandered off–”

“I was ten feet away, tops,” Harry protests, laughing. “I did not wander off. We were literally mid conversation.”

“I lost track of you! It was a big store!”

“It was a Hot Topic!”

Uma gives up on arguing and dissolves into laughter. Harry does the same, bent over with the force of the high, breathless giggles that’s set Uma off laughing with him for half her life. Dizzy lets out an unhappy squeak, and Harry holds the spoon up again, cooing when she opens her mouth and using the edge of the spoon to catch the food that dribbles down her chin. 

The rest of the afternoon goes by with surprising ease compared to the morning. Harry and Uma eat their own lunch. Uma pulls up YouTube playlists of singing cartoon characters for Dizzy. Harry finishes his meticulous organization of Dizzy's diaper bag, then lets Uma ramble about her thesis while he keeps Dizzy distracted with toys, stories, and snippets of songs. Dizzy goes down for another nap, Harry takes the opportunity to shower, and Uma orders pizza. 

Her phone rings at almost the same moment that she finishes typing in the order. She leaves the door to Harry's room open as she steps into the hall, keeping an eye on Dizzy asleep on the bed. “Hello?”

“Hi, Uma? This is Cindy Charming. Ben gave me your phone number.”

Uma blinks. “Oh, wow, uh. Hi. How… are you?”

This is one of the weirder situations she had found herself in. She isn't entirely sure what the polite thing to say is. 

“I'm fine, thank you.” Mrs. Charming’s voice is warm and sweet. “How are you? I'm sorry you and Harry got caught up in this. I know it had to be a shock.”

“Kind of, yeah,” Uma admits. “But it's fine. Did Mal tell you we can watch Dizzy until you get back? Because we can totally watch her until you get back.”

Mrs. Charming’s relieved sigh crackles in Uma’s ear. “She mentioned she was going to ask you, but I hadn't heard back from her.”

Uma winces. “Okay, yeah, I think I, uh, forgot to tell her. Shit, sorry. I didn't even think about it.”

“Well, you've certainly had a lot on your mind. I can hardly blame you for being distracted.” She sighs again. “I really am grateful to you. I didn't even realize anything was wrong until Drizella called to tell me she was on her way, and then when I couldn't get ahold of Chad… well.”

Uma winces. “I guess you've had a lot going on too. How long has this been going on? I mean, if you don't mind telling me.”

“A few months,” Mrs. Charming says, sounding suddenly tired . “Longer, really; Zella brought it up when she first found out she was pregnant, but it wasn't until just recently she decided to follow through. It's been… not a complicated process, necessarily, but a long one. I think we'll all be glad to sign the papers and be done with it tomorrow.”

“Us too,” Uma says honestly, leaning against the doorway and watching Dizzy sleep. “We were worried, you know, that it was, um, not a good situation. I'm really glad to find out it's okay.”

“It really is. We're going before the judge first thing tomorrow morning, and once the papers are signed I'll be heading straight home. It shouldn't be any later than dinner tomorrow. You're sure you don't mind watching her?”

“Nah, it's fine,” Uma says. “It was more a problem when we didn't know what was going on. I like kids, and Harry raised his little sister so he's basically an expert. We're happy to keep an eye on her.”

She doesn't add on what she's thinking: that seeing a kid go to a good family that loves and wants her, and especially one that Harry can keep in touch with, might go a long way towards healing wounds left over from five months of crawling through a seemingly endless maze of red tape to track down someone who hadn't. 

“Thank you so much.” Mrs. Charming's voice is thick and tearful, and Uma swallows past the lump in her throat. She and Harry aren't the only ones who have been scared today. “I can't– I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. If there's anything I can do for you, or if you have any questions, please let me know and I'll do whatever I can to help. Not just today or tomorrow. This means so much to me. Thank you.”

Uma shrugs like Mrs. Charming can actually see it, looking down and scuffing her toe across the carpet. “You're welcome. It's, you know. We're happy to do it. She– oh, she's napping right now, but do you want pictures and things? Updates? I can send them.”

“That would be wonderful. I was actually going to ask. Has she been okay?”

“Oh, yeah, she's been fine,” Uma says. “Cried some when her mom dropped her off, but other than that it's been pretty chill. You know, naps and food and diapers. She's a sweetheart.”

“She really is,” Mrs. Charming says. “I don't know that I've ever seen a more cheerful little girl.” She turns unexpectedly hesitant as she asked, “Could you… send me a picture now? If you have one?”

“Yeah, sure.” Uma switches the call to speaker, then quickly thumbed through her photos. She's taken a dozen more throughout the day, of Dizzy eating or playing with her toys or, in Uma's favorite shot, held in Harry's arms and shrieking with laughter as he stuck his tongue out at her. “What's your number? I can't look at it while I'm typing.”

Mrs. Charming rattles it off and Uma sends her the pictures along with a video of Harry reading to Dizzy, then adds her to her contacts. 

Mrs. Charming coos as the pictures came through. “Oh, goodness, that's so sweet. That's Harry?”

Harry-smile, because he isn't there to see it. It's fine. “Yeah. He's pretty much in love with her.”

“He's adorable.”

“Yeah.” If it comes out a little breathy, Mrs. Charming doesn't say anything about it. “He really is.”

“Who is what?”

Uma yelps and spins around to see Harry frowning at her as he steps out of the bathroom, scrubbing at his hair with a towel. He brought a change of clothes into the bathroom with him, and Uma raises her eyebrows when she sees what he's wearing. 

“I'm on the phone with Mrs. Charming, she says you're adorable. But she hasn't actually seen you in person, because right now you look less adorable and more slutty. Did you dry off at all before you put that shirt on?”

Harry looks down at himself with a frown, like he hadn't realized that his thin grey t-shirt is clinging wetly to his chest. “Yeah? Mostly. I was in a hurry.”

“You had time to put on eyeliner,” Uma says dryly. “We're not even going anywhere, who are you trying to impress?”

Harry mutters something under his breath and leans back into the bathroom for a second to drop his towel in the hamper, like his half-dry hair isn't going to drip even more water down his shirt. “Hi, Mrs. Charming.”

“Hi, Harry,” Mrs. Charming says, clearly amused, and Uma feels herself flush. 

“Oh, god, I forgot I had you on speaker,” she says, cheeks burning. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be,” Mrs. Charming laughs. “You two are fun. Thank you for the photos. I– oh, Zella is calling me. Let me know if you need anything at all, please? I'll call you as soon as everything is signed and done. Thank you again. And thank you, Harry.”

“You're welcome,” Harry says. “Is it all right if I get your number off Uma?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Go ahead and text me so I have yours, too. Thank you again, you two. I'll let you know how things go tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Harry says. “You have a good night.”

“You two, sweethearts.”

She hangs up, and Harry and Uma are left staring at the phone in her hand. 

Harry's face is twisted oddly. “Sweethearts.” Uma raises her eyebrows, but he just shakes his head. “Is this really slutty?”

“Extremely,” Uma confirms. “You look like you're competing in a wet t-shirt competition. And losing.”

Harry peels the hem of his shirt away from his wet skin so he can frown down at it. “How would I lose? I'd be great in a wet t-shirt competition.”

“Not in that shirt,” Uma says, rolling her eyes and turning towards the kitchen. “It's too dark. You need something white, so it'll go see-through when it gets wet. And get a nipple piercing or something. How do you not know this? It's Wet T-Shirt 101. Pizza should be here in ten, by the way.”

“I'd win a wet t-shirt contest,” Harry mutters as he follows her out of the hallway. “What kind did you get?”

“The usual,” Uma says, opening the cabinet with the cups and glancing over her shoulder at Harry. “Okay, exposure therapy time.”

Harry groans. “We can eat in the living room. It's fine, I've calmed down.” He hesitates a moment, sighs, then asks, “But not on the sofa?”

“Works for me,” Uma says with a shrug. “You want to watch something?”

“Do you think we'll be able to hear her if we have something on?”

“You heard her crying earlier, right?” Uma asks dryly as she pulls down two cups and sets them on the counter. “She's pretty hard to miss. Go pull something up. Aquarium live feed, if you are that worried.”

Harry perks up at that, the nerd, but before he can even turn around, his phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket, scowls, and slides it open. “Chad.”

Even without the phone being on speaker, Uma can hear the frantic shouting on the other end. Harry grimaces and holds it away from his ear.

“Oh my god oh my god I'm the worst person on earth holy shit–”

Harry sighs. “Chad.”

“I THOUGHT IT WAS NEXT WEEK–”

“Chad.”

“MY PHONE DIED AND I FORGOT MY CHARGER I DIDN'T KNOW UNTIL AUDREY PICKED ME UP I WOULD HAVE COME BACK–”

“Chad!”

Chad finally falls silent, and Harry sighs again as he rubs at the crease between his eyebrows. “You're a fucking asshole.”

Uma steps closer so she can hear as Chad said miserably, “I know. Swear to god I thought it was the twenty-first.”

“How the hell do you forget the date of your cousin's adoption?” Harry demands. “That's a big fucking deal. She's technically your sister now, you prick.”

Chad sounds near tears. “I know that. I helped paint the nursery, man! We have a whole party planned! No, fuck, shit, Dad's not back in town until next week, that's when we're having the party, that's how I got the dates fucked up, I haven't even left the airport, I bought a new ticket so I can come back–”

“I wouldn't come back to the apartment just yet,” Harry says flatly. “Because I want to break your jaw right now, and I'm gonna need a few days to calm down. Go to your parents’ place.”

Uma raises her eyebrows. Harry just shrugs at her, expression tight. 

There's a long pause before Chad says, “Right. Okay. That's fair. Um. I already called my mom. My flight leaves in like thirty minutes. I'll let you know when I land. But I won't… go there. Do you not want me to like, come get her, though?”

“I really don't,” Harry says, gritting his teeth. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but you're a selfish ass and I don't trust you alone with a baby. Also, again, I would happily break my other hand on your face, so it might be best for both of us if I don't see you right away.”

“Okay.” Chad sounds dazed. “Is she okay, though? Kid’s had a rough… well, life so far. She's not hurt?”

Someone caring about the people Harry cares about is always the fastest way to calm him down. He sighs, expression going just a touch softer. 

“She's fine. She's asleep right now.” He looks up at the ceiling like he's praying for strength, then asks, “D’you want a picture?”

“Yes,” Chad gasps. “Look, this is the worst thing I've ever done–”

“Agreed,” Harry says. 

“–but I really do care about her. She's, I mean, you said. She's like my sister now, right? I know I fucked up, but I just want to know she's okay.”

Harry nods and pulls his phone away from his ear so he can flip to his photos easier. “Kinda curious how this never came up before. Seems like the sort of thing you might tell people.”

Might tell friends, Uma knows he's thinking. He won't admit it, but she can hear the touch of hurt in his voice. 

Chad’s voice comes through the speaker now, clearly enough that Uma can hear the weariness in his voice as he says, “I didn't want to jinx it. This is the third time we've gone through this; Drizella backed out the first two times. Mom and Dad have been trying to get custody for ages.” His voice sounds more strained the longer he speaks. “I told you we painted the nursery? That was six months ago.”

“Shit,” Uma breathes. 

“Is that Uma? Hey.”

“Hey, asshole,” Uma says. “How's it going?”

“Well, I won the record for shittiest person on earth, so that's something to be proud of.”

“There's shittier out there,” Harry says. “Okay, sent. Should be coming through.”

“Oh, yeah, I just got– HOLY SHIT SHE GOT NEW GLASSES.”

“Aw, really?” Uma asks. “They're cute as hell.”

“She had black ones before. Don't get me wrong, glasses on a baby are always great, but I love the purple. She– wait, I'm boarding. Okay, they're calling now, I gotta go, I'm sorry again, I'm a piece of shit, I'll text you when I land.”

He makes a loud, ridiculous kissing noise, mumbles one last “sorry thanks bye,” then hangs up. 

“God, I hate him so much,” Harry says with a reluctant smile. 

“I don't think I've ever heard an actual apology out of him,” Uma says thoughtfully. “Not one he actually means, at least. That was new.”

“I sort of like listening to him squirm,” Harry admits. “Can't wait to see him in person. Not yet, though,” he adds. “I wasn't kidding. I'm ready to kill him after this bullshit.”

“Well yeah,” Uma says. “If you didn't, I would. How the fuck do you forget your sister's adoption?”

“By not having one until you're in your twenties, I guess,” Harry says dryly, slipping past her to open the fridge. “You want water or tea?”

“Is it real tea, or that powdered shit you're obsessed with?”

Harry shoots her a dirty look and grabs two water bottles from the fridge. “Crystal Light is tea. It says tea on the package.”

“So?” Uma rolls her eyes as she takes one of the bottles from him. “I could write ‘Harry’ on my forehead, it wouldn't turn me into you.”

“Thank god for that,” Harry says, twisting the cap off his bottle, snatching a tiny orange packet out of a box by the fridge, and dumping the contents into the bottle. “Can barely handle myself on a good day. Two of me and no you to keep an eye on us? We'd be screwed.”

“Okay, but consider,” Uma says. “A full time childcare Harry, and a full time everything-else Harry.”

“Tempting,” Harry admits, shaking his bottle to mix the powder into the water. “But I think if I had nothing to do but look out for her, CJ would end up murdering me in a week.”

Uma laughs despite herself. “All right, that's fair. I'd be surprised if she let you go as long as a week, actually. Kid does not like to be fussed over.”

“You offer to talk to her teacher one time,” Harry grumbles. 

“I'm sorry, one time?” Uma asks, raising her eyebrows. “Which one time are we talking about, because I'm pretty sure there were–”

“Well, that specific teacher, at least,” Harry says, grinning sheepishly. “At least I asked first. I used to just go storming into her classroom and cause a scene, you remember?”

“Do I remember you getting detention for a week because you went and yelled at CJ’s kindergarten teacher,” Uma muses, tapping her chin. “Hm. No, no, it's not ringing any– oh wait, that was the day you interrupted the class’s nap time, wasn't it? Was it that day? Because the time I'm thinking of, you woke up a room full of cranky five-year-olds because CJ didn't get enough goldfish crackers the day before. Is that the day you're talking about?”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he's laughing even as he tries to scowl at her. “Look, I was twelve, okay, and she didn't get enough goldfish crackers. That teacher played favorites, everyone knew that.”

“I think it's very cute that your crusade to protect CJ from injustice started in middle school,” Uma assures him. 

“Mocked,” Harry says, shaking his head mournfully. “Shamed and bullied for caring about my loved ones. What has the world come to?”

“It's come to owning up to your ridiculous behavior,” Uma says dryly. “Come on, let's go look at some jellyfish.”

“Fuck yeah, jellyfish,” Harry whispers, because he's an embarrassing idiot and Uma is an idiot for loving him the way she does. Five minutes later sees them back on the floor in the living room—Harry straightens the edges of the throw blanket before they sit down on it and refuses to meet Uma’s eyes as he does—watching jellyfish drift across Harry’s TV. Uma doesn't understand his obsession with them, but his expression smoothes out the longer he watches them, shoulders loose and relaxed as he sips at his fake tea. 

Uma has gotten very good over the years at pretending she isn't staring at Harry. He still catches her at it, glancing over with a half-smile before Uma can look away. “I got something on my face?” 

“Your eyeliner is smeared,” Uma says cheerfully. “You look like a drunk raccoon.”

“It's a smokey eye,” Harry says, frowning. “It's pretty.”

“Eh,” Uma says. “Who are you trying to look pretty for, anyways? Just me and Dizzy here, and she already adores you.”

Harry looks torn for a moment before he says, “Maybe I'm–”

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.

They both flinch, twisting towards the back of the apartment and freezing. Uma silently counts down from three in her head. 

Dizzy starts crying. 

“Goddamnit,” Harry mumbles, already climbing to his feet. “You got the door?”

“Yeah,” Uma sighs, letting Harry pull her up after him. “I didn't even think to tell them not to knock. Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he says with a shrug. “Unfamiliar territory. You've never had a baby, and it's not like I could afford to order delivery when I did. All right, Dizzy girl, I hear you,” he calls, hurrying down the hallway. “Come on, sweet thing, it's okay.”

When Uma opens the door, it's to see a guilt-stricken girl in a black polo and a baseball hat balancing a pizza bag in one hand and covering her mouth with the other. “I am so sorry,” she gasps, eyes huge. 

“Hi, Jane,” Uma says. 

“Did I just make a baby cry? I didn't know you had a baby and I definitely did not mean to make it cry.”

“It's fine,” Uma says. “We're just watching her for a few days. You couldn't have known.”

“I feel awful,” Jane mumbles. “Do you want me to say I dropped the pizza so you can get a refund? Like, as an apology?”

“Don't get yourself in trouble,” Uma says, rolling her eyes. “It was an accident, it's fine. No one’s mad at you.”

“I'm mad at me,” Jane says, finally lowering her hand so she can unzip the pizza bag. “God, I'm so sorry. Who are you even babysitting?”

“Is that Janey?”

Uma glances over her shoulder to see Harry coming back into the living room with Dizzy on his hip, fastening her glasses back over her head with his right hand. “Hey, Janey, how are you?”

Jane freezes with one hand inside the bag, jaw dropping as she catches sight of the baby. “Oh my god, she's tiny,” she breathes. “Uh, hi, Harry. Who's this?”

“This is Dizzy. Dizzy girl, you want to say hi?”

Dizzy’s face is still screwed up miserably even as Harry gets the glasses settled properly on her nose; she lets out a soft, angry squeak and smushes her face against Harry’s shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Harry says with an apologetic grimace, “she just woke up from her nap. Don't think she's too happy about it.”

“No, I'm sorry,” Jane says, shaking her head and finally pulling the pizza out of the box. “I didn't mean to wake her up. Ugh, I have to get back, but are you sure you don't want me to see about getting you a refund?”

“I'm sure,” Uma says. “Thanks, though.”

Jane waves, wiggles her fingers at Dizzy, and trots off. Uma sighs as she closes the door, leaning back against it and clutching the pizza with both hands. “Odds of getting Dizzy back to sleep?”

“Slim to none,” Harry says, absently stroking the back of Dizzy’s head. “She's grouchy, but she's definitely up. Maybe in a little while.”

“Right,” Uma says with another sigh, “because her going back to sleep would be too easy. All right, guess she can come to dinner with us.”

“Yay,” Harry says, dry as the desert. “I'll make her another bottle.”

Dinner passes much the same as the rest of the day; Harry and Uma take turns eating and entertaining Dizzy, Uma pecks half-heartedly at her laptop, and Harry carefully wipes up every drop of food the second it hits the floor. Between the two of them, they manage to devour the entire pizza before Dizzy is even halfway through her bottle. 

“I'm so tired,” Uma groans, hanging her head miserably. She's back on the floor again, leaned up against the sofa with her computer balanced on her thighs. “I'm tired of school, and research, and writing, and learning, and thinking, and–”

“Aw, but you're so close,” Harry says, looking up from where he’s sprawled on his stomach and playing with Dizzy’s toes. “Final semester! Look at you go!”

“Yeah, then I immediately go back for post grad,” Uma says, well aware that she's whining. “I don't even get a break. No summer vacation, Harry! It's a nightmare.”

Harry shrugs. “I don't know what you want from me. Some of us had the good sense to not even finish high school. You're the one who decided to start collecting degrees.”

Uma sighs and slumps back against the base of the sofa. “True, but I'm still gonna gripe about it. And I do like it, I'm just tired, like, all the time.”

“Hm.” Harry looks back at Dizzy, lightly pinching one of her toes and wiggling it while she laughs. “It is impressive, though. I'm really proud of you.”

“Oh.” Uma blinks a few times, staring at her laptop and fighting back a pleased smile. She's not much better than Harry at accepting compliments. They don't normally bother trying, at least not with each other. “Thanks.”

Harry shoots her a quick, small smile, mouth barely quirked up on one side, but doesn't say anything. 

“You think she'll fall back asleep any time soon?” Uma asks. 

“I wouldn't bet on it,” Harry says. “Like you said, that would be too easy. She's gotta keep us on… our… toes!”

He punctuates the last few words by lightly poking at Dizzy’s stomach, setting her off laughing and flailing so hard she starts to topple over. Harry makes an alarmed noise and sets her back upright, and Uma bursts out laughing at his wide eyes. Dizzy doesn't seem at all bothered, still giggling and waving her arms around. Harry, once again, narrowly avoids losing an eye at her hands. 

“All right, you tiny terror,” Harry mutters. “I'm taping oven mitts over your hands.”

“They'll cover her whole arms,” Uma points out. “You'd just be giving her wings at that point.”

“Flying baby,” Harry says thoughtfully. “Huh. Forget crawling, she's taking straight to the skies.”

Uma snorts at the mental image of Dizzy flying through the air with oven mitt wings, eyes wide and delighted behind her tiny glasses, then stretches out one leg so she can poke Harry in the shoulder with one toe. “No flying. She's enough trouble on the ground.”

“Got that right,” Harry says with a snort. “Easier than CJ, though.”

Uma can't help her shudder at the memories that one sentence evokes. “Colic.”

“Colic,” Harry agrees. “Never met a kid who screamed so much. Nearly shattered the windows a few times. Dad would get so… well. You know how Dad would get.”

“Yeah,” Uma says quietly, half to herself. “I know.” She knows better than anyone except Harry himself, spent too many years patching him up and lying to everyone about where the bruises came from. Even CJ hadn't known just how bad it was until they were out of the house. 

“Do you ever want kids?” she asks. One side of Harry's mouth quirks up in a smile. 

“Why would I? Got CJ already. Not to mention the guys.”

“Yeah, they're all basically babies,” Uma says with a snort. “But seriously. I mean, you love kids. You're good with them. You ever think about it? Having your own?”

Harry mulls it over for a moment. “Sometimes,” he says finally. “I think about fostering more than, you know, actually having kids. Not any time soon, obviously, but… I like the idea of being what the Darlings are for CJ, you know? Something safe for someone who needs it.”

There's a lump in Uma’s throat. She has to swallow a few times before she can say, roughly, “That's a nice thought.”

Harry hums a little. “What about you?”

Uma shrugs and looks down at her laptop, tracing her fingers absently over the keys without pressing any. “I don't know. I mean, same, I don't think I'd ever want to have kids. Pregnancy is freaky.”

“Extremely freaky,” Harry agrees. 

Uma huffs out a soft laugh. “Yeah. And I like what you said, you know, about maybe fostering or something, but I don't know. I wouldn't do it if I'm not totally sure about it, and right now I'm not. I don't want to be one more person to let a kid down if they're already in a shit situation.”

Dizzy has discovered her own toes and is doing her best to eat them. While she’s distracted, Harry rolls onto his side to face Uma, propping his head up on one hand. “I don't think you'd let them down,” he says. “Look at you, you've got your shit together better than anyone we know. And before you say it, you're better with kids than you think you are. Dizzy warmed right up to you, didn't she?”

Uma grimaces, because she had been about to point out how awkward she is around kids. “Maybe Dizzy has low standards,” she says instead. “She's not old enough to talk, what does she know?”

“She knows she's safe,” Harry says, watching Dizzy with an expression Uma decides not to think about, because if she tries to analyze the layers of exhaustion and fear and fondness she might start crying on the spot. “She knows she's not hungry and she's clean and she's not alone.”

“That's all you.”

“I couldn't have done today without you,” Harry murmurs. He's still not looking at her. “I don't think I could have done anything without you, ever. I don't… I never thanked you for that, did I? For everything you did for us.”

“You didn't have to,” Uma manages. 

“No, I did,” Harry says, quiet but with no room for argument. “CJ and I never would have made it out of that house without you. Thank you, Uma. Really. You kept us going.”

Uma sniffs and scrubs at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, embarrassed even though Harry isn't looking at her and he's seen her do worse than tear up a little, anyway. “I'm glad you guys made it. I– god, I'm so glad you're here.”

“Yeah.” Harry finally looks at her again just to smile, and Uma manages a watery smile back at him. “Fucking miracle, huh?”

“Well, that's one word for it.”

Harry laughs, and Uma grins, and Harry goes back to playing with Dizzy and Uma goes back to her paper. She tucks the conversation away for later, though, ready to pretend it never happened while she holds it close to her chest, out of Harry’s sight. She knows him too well to think he'll forget it either, but she'll do him the same courtesy of pretending they know how to be normal. 

They finish dinner. They clean up the pizza box and the plates, and Harry changes Dizzy again and gets her ready for bed while Uma puts away her toys, folds up the blanket, and flips off the overhead light, leaving the room illuminated only by the soft glow of the jellyfish still on the TV. Harry comes out of the bedroom just as Uma is settling back into the couch, and he offers her a tired grin and drops down next to her. 

“She fell asleep while I was changing her diaper,” he says. “Figured it's probably close enough to her bed time anyways.”

“I could have done that for you,” Uma says, but Harry just shrugs. 

“I don't mind. Took a little finessing, but I figure if I can mix drinks I should be able to handle one changing.”

“Wow, cocktails and diapers,” Uma says dryly. “What can't you do?”

Harry grimaces as he tilts his head to the side and his neck pops loudly. “Mind my posture?”

Uma makes a face as he does the same thing to the other side. “Ugh. I hate when you do that.”

Harry hums and wiggles down into the cushions. “Feels so good though.”

“You're insane.”

“Old news,” Harry mumbles. “Are you still working?”

“Yeah,” Uma says. “Just cleaning it up a little.”

“Come on, put it away,” Harry wheedles. “It's been a long day and you did so much thinking. Stop being smart and join me in being sleepy.”

Uma snickers. “You make a compelling argument. Fine, you're right. Damn, and you never even got a real nap in, did you?”

The moment Uma sets her laptop to the side, Harry flops over sideways and makes himself comfortable with his head in her lap. “I absolutely did not,” he confirms, “and I am quite ready to die about it, thank you for asking.”

Uma hums and begins absently running her fingers through his hair. Harry lets out a content sigh and closes his eyes, and Uma bites back a Harry-smile as she picks tangles out of his bangs. “You need a haircut.”

“Sure thing, mum.”

Uma tugs at his hair in reprimand, and he swats at her lazily but makes no move to sit up. “Seriously, I haven't seen your undercut this long in ages. Are you growing it out?”

Harry sighs again, and his smile fades. “Gil offered to clean it up for me, and I panicked as soon as he turned on the clippers. So now I guess I'm growing it out.”

Uma grimaces. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to give it a try some time, or are clippers back on the no-fly list for now?”

“We can give it a shot tomorrow,” Harry says. “It's been a few weeks, and I was already having a bad day when Gil tried. I probably should have guessed it would set me off.”

“Sure. We can try after Mrs. Charming picks Dizzy up?”

Harry hums again, all sleepy and relaxed in Uma’s lap. “Sounds good. Probably better to do it after Dizzy’s gone, in case I get weird about it.”

“PTSD is not weird,” Uma scolds. “You're allowed to have bad days.”

Harry cracks one eye open so he can give her an unimpressed look. “I'm not saying it's weird. I'm saying I don't want to trigger a panic attack while I'm supposed to be babysitting. I'm being mature about it.”

Uma nods at that. “Fair enough. Speaking of, do you want to just stay here tomorrow, or go do something with her?”

“What, like the park?”

“Yeah, or just take her on a walk or something. I don't know, what do you do with babies?”

“For now, basically nothing,” Harry says, eyes drifting closed again. “Not gonna lie, I'm doing better than this morning but I'm still pretty fried. Probably best to just wait it out here; she'll survive being a little bored for another day. We can just bunk down until tomorrow evening.”

“Hell yeah, apocalypse style babysitting,” Uma says. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I should go to bed,” Harry mutters. “This is nice, but I need a mattress.”

Uma pauses with her hands still in his hair. “Uh.”

“You can stay,” he says quickly. “We can share.”

“No, not that,” Uma says. “I just think your bed might be occupied?”

Harry opens his eyes to squint at her, then his brain seems to catch up with him as he groans and covers his face with both hands. “Oh, god, I'm an idiot.”

“Gil keeps his room pretty clean,” Uma says. “We could crash in his.”

Harry's already shaking his head as he sits upright. Uma misses his warmth immediately. “No, his room’s on the other side of the apartment from mine, and we didn't get a monitor. We won't hear her if she needs something.”

“Sleepover in the living room?” Uma suggests, and Harry nods before slumping over against her side with a soft groan. 

“I'll grab some extra blankets,” he mumbles. “I don't have sleeping bags or anything, but we've got enough extra pillows and things that we should be okay on the floor for a night.”

“Yeah, and we can just pull the cushions off the couch,” Uma says. “We'll be fine.”

Neither of them move. Uma feels like her bones are made of lead. She hadn't noticed earlier, too focused on taking care of Dizzy and Harry, but she can feel exhaustion dragging at her. 

“You can go back to the dorms if you want,” Harry says. “You don't have to stay tonight.”

“One, you know perfectly well your couch is more comfortable than my dorm bed,” Uma says. “Two, I know you won't sleep at all if you're here alone with her, and I won't sleep at all thinking of you not sleeping.”

Harry snorts. “We're idiots, aren't we?”

“Nah, just best friends.”

Harry presses closer. “You know, I kinda like that about us.”

“Yeah, it's pretty great.” Uma yawns, then the words fall out of her mouth so easily she barely realises they have. “You know I love you, right?”

She isn't looking at him, but she hears him swallow. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “I love you, too.”

“No, I-” She fumbles for his hand, squeezing it and running her thumb gently over the familiar shape of it, bony knuckles and raised scars. “I love you. Okay? More than anybody.”

“You…? Oh.” He huffs out a laugh and drops his head down so his cheek is pressed against the top of her head. “Me too. More than any… um.”

Uma smiles helplessly, dreamy and floaty and half-asleep. “It’s okay. I won’t try to compete with CJ. I know you love her more.”

“I don’t love her more,” Harry says. “I just love you different. So much, the two of you. Everything. More than I thought people could love.” He sighs, soft and warm, and tilts his head to press a kiss to her hair. “I can’t imagine not loving you. I always have.”

“Should’ve told me,” Uma grumbles, but she can’t bring herself to be really upset about it. Everything feels soft and muted and warm, pressed up against Harry shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, and she can’t remember any of the reasons she’s had for not telling him all these years.

Harry kisses the top of her head again and then leaves his lips there, murmuring against her hair, “Been trying. I’m not good with words.”

“Me neither,” Uma says and hears the laugh in her own voice, too tired to slip free but light and sweet inside her chest. “We kind of suck at this.”

Harry pulls back and snorts. “Got that right.” She turns to look up at him in the half-dark, dazed and happy and burning, Harry-smile glowing on her face, and finds him looking back at her with a smile she’s never seen on him before, something wide-eyed and awed and impossibly fond.

Huh. Uma-smile.

She does laugh this time, quiet giggles bubbling out of her as she closes her eyes and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “I love you,” she says again. “I really, really love you.”

Harry brings his free hand up to cup the back of her head, twisting so her head is tucked under his chin. “I love you too,” he murmurs. “God, I’m so in love with you, you have no idea.”

“I have some idea,” Uma says drowsily. “Should we… talk about this?”

Harry shrugs a little, his shoulder moving under her cheek. “I dunno. Probably.”

“But tomorrow,” Uma says, and Harry huffs out a near-silent laugh. 

“Yeah. Too tired for talking tonight. We should just set up the cushions for now.”

Uma groans and presses her face harder against him. “No. That means standing up. I'm too sleepy, how dare you ask me to do that.”

Harry makes a thoughtful noise, then he's leaning back, pulling Uma carefully with him and swinging his legs up onto the sofa until he's stretched out on his back, head on the armrest, and Uma is lying on his chest. They've slept like this before, the last fifteen years of dancing around each other and together, and it feels all at once familiar and brand new. With a little maneuvering Uma manages to get the blanket off the back of the couch and spread loosely over them both, then she lets herself sag down more comfortably on top of Harry. 

“‘S this okay?” she asks, and he wraps his arms around her under the blanket and tucks her even closer. 

“More than,” he mumbles. Uma ducks her head out of habit so he won't see her smile, even though there's nothing left to hide from him. It doesn't matter. She's sure he knows it's there, just like she knows, even with her eyes closed, that he's smiling at her. 

As she does every night, she runs through a list of her people, mentally cataloguing where everyone is. CJ is safe at home with the Darlings. Gil is still out camping with Jay. Dizzy is asleep down the hall, and she's going home to her family tomorrow. All the people Uma loves are safe and exactly where they're supposed to be. 

And Harry is warm and comfortable in Uma’s arms, close enough for her to fight off any of his nightmares, and she loves him. 

“Hey, Harry,” she whispers, and he hums a sleepy response. “Guess what?”

“What?” he whispers back, and Uma looks up to see him smiling at her, and to let him see her smiling back. 

“I love you.”

“Well, that's lucky,” he murmurs. “Because guess what? I love you, too.”