Chapter Text
Leorio blinked at the baby across from him. It blinked back, its left cheek bulging as it sucked on the temple tips of his glasses. He reached out to take them back, easing them from tiny hands, but the moment he managed to rescue them, the baby’s face contorted.
‘Oh shit,’ he thought, but didn’t get any further before the baby released an ear-shattering wail. He pressed his glasses back into tiny fists, and within a moment the child had stopped crying, happily shoving the item back into its sloppy, drooling mouth.
Leorio sighed.
When this day began, it had seemed like a well-deserved break. He’d been in town for all of three days, and decided to take a look at his office for the first time. A pile of things had been shoved into one corner, leftover from Ging’s tenure no doubt, and Beans had walked him up to the office with a plant under one arm, gifting Leorio with it as a welcome to the Headquarters. A small pile of envelopes had been waiting for him in a small plastic tray, tied up with red string, and he’d thought he’d kick his feet up, relax, read through his mail and maybe surf the web for some decorations before going around to get a hang of the layout, find everyone else’s offices, maybe figure out where Kurapika’s office would be, if he had a nicer one. Get a coffee maker, enjoy the view.
He’d been there less than two hours when the commotion started, and a whirlwind of confusing events and shouting voices later had him here: a mystery baby on his desk sucking on his best pair of glasses, a straw bassinet with absolutely no note- (he’d checked very thoroughly)- a stuffed animal too worn to be recognizable as anything but a quadruped, and instructions from a very harried chairman to ‘figure this out… whatever it is.’
And many, many questions.
–
“I know this sounds crazy,” Leorio sighed for the thousandth time today, trying his best to keep his cool despite his frazzled nerves. He shoved a pile of onesies aside, dropping heavily on his sagging couch, and kicked his feet up on a stack of diaper packs. He still had to assemble the changing station. Needless to say, he hadn’t gotten much sleep since yesterday, and yes, it did sound crazy even through the haze: “but you’re probably the one who knows the most about childcare out of all of us.”
He held the phone away from his ear, grimacing. The sound of Killua cackling exploded out of the speaker. Leorio rolled his eyes, waiting impatiently for Killua to stop. And waiting. And waiting.
The kid had to be doing it on purpose.
Finally, Killua caught his breath, though he was still snickering mirthfully. “Ah, thanks, old man. I needed that.” Leorio gritted his teeth. “But I was one when Alluka was born, I don’t know anything about babies. Why don’t you ask Mito?”
His teeth gnashed together. “I’ve never met her. It’d be pretty strange of me.”
“Ask Gon to introduce you, then,” Killua answered, clicking his tongue. There was a pause, but Leorio could imagine the smirk growing on Killua’s face, and he knew he was right when he heard the boy’s tone of voice. “You know, you should probably leave the baby with her. That’s way safer than whatever child-rearing you’re bound to do!”
Leorio worried at his lip, glancing at the bassinet. The baby had fallen asleep with its pudgy arms wrapped around its toy, one of the plush’s limbs jammed into its toothless mouth. “No, that’s probably too dangerous. There has to be a reason she was dropped off at the Hunter Headquarters.”
“She, huh?”
Leorio swallowed in the ensuing silence, his brown eyes lingering on the snoozing babe. “...Yeah. I don’t know her name, though.”
“Well name her then,” Killua snorted. Then, snarkily, he added: “dad.”
Leorio hung up on him before realizing he had done so.
–
Leorio jarred awake to hysterical wails. He threw his comforter off him, jumped to his feet, and grabbed the nearest object- an alarm clock- ready for an assailant. It took a moment for his brain to come online.
The clock dropped to the carpet with a muffled thud. Leorio rushed to the bassinet, pulling the baby up. She had unwrapped herself partially in the night, and her fists flailed angrily as she cried. He pressed her to his bare chest, bouncing up and down and making what he hoped were soothing sounds. His broad hand pressed against the soft skin of her back, his thumb and index cradling her head, keeping her pudgy, wet cheek against him.
She hiccuped, battering him lightly with her fists. She mouthed at his chest, her gums working against his skin, but when she found no milk she started to cry again, louder and louder. He stuck a finger in her mouth; she latched on immediately, but her face scrunched up unhappily. He peered at her in the low light, frowning. Definitely hungry.
Leorio plucked her toy from the bassinet, tucking it between their bodies. She sucked on its limb, quieting. He slipped into the kitchen, flipping the light on and walking to the fridge.
Beans had stocked it with prepared formula: a godsend. Beans did not get the credit he deserved. Leorio surveyed the line of containers, each labeled with today (yesterday?)’s date. Baby formula needed to be warm, right? He was pretty sure. He reached for his pocket and realized he was only wearing boxers and therefore didn’t have his phone. No, he was certain he needed to warm it up.
Filling a bottle one-handed and half-asleep turned out to be more challenging than he expected. He fought with the rubber nozzle; it flipped off the bottle and to the floor. He swore and bent down to pick it up; the baby, suddenly upside down, slammed her fists into him and started to scream again.
“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, cringing. He abandoned the nozzle in the sink and grabbed a new bottle. Then came the comedy of finding and filling a saucepan with water, setting it to heat up, grabbing a new bottle, filling that one, floating it in the heating water without it falling over, all with one hand because god knew his apartment was not baby-safe in any reasonable capacity. All within inches of a full-lunged wail.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He felt his teeth grind together, but he couldn’t very well yell at the baby. She wasn’t at fault for any of this. He knew the world wasn’t fun to be in sometimes and here she was in the arms of a complete stranger- and an unprepared one at that.
He snatched the glass bottle from the simmering water- he swore that was what his neighbors had done when they’d had a newborn, but he’d been 12 years old at the time and a little preoccupied with watching his best friend slowly fall apart- and squeezed out a few drops against his bare leg. It was warm, but not hot.
Good enough. Rearranging her so that she faced up instead of into his chest, he stuck the rubber nipple in the baby’s mouth. She latched on immediately. Her scrunched-up face relaxed a little, though her nose stayed wrinkled, and her eyes blinked open.
Leorio froze, his breath caught in his chest. Her eyes were scarlet.
It couldn’t be.
His hands full, he squeezed his eyes closed and counted to ten. When he looked again, he saw a pair of placid, light-brown eyes casting about as the baby peacefully drank her milk, her tiny hands patting against the glass.
He wobbled on the spot, heaving, and carried her into the living room, where he dropped into his armchair. Gently lowering the baby to his lap, cradling her still with his arm as he held the bottle, he stared down at her.
Just his imagination.
–
The next morning began before sunrise. He dragged himself out of bed and into the tiled-floor kitchen, grimacing at the cold. He should really invest in a bathrobe, he thought, scratching his belly. He blinked sleepily at the rubber nipple in his sink before washing both it and his hands, preparing a fresh bottle.
The baby was still slumbering in her bassinet when he slumped back into the bedroom. He tickled her cheek, and her head turned. She latched on, sucking on his finger, despite being still asleep. Chuckling under his breath, he picked her up, bouncing her a little in his arms until her eyes cracked open.
She stared at him with a bleary upset. “I know, right?” he snuffed, and gave her the warm bottle. She cheered right up.
If only it stayed that easy.
–
Granted, Leorio was very new to childcare, but whatever it was he was doing, it seemed clear he was doing it wrong. She cried, and kept crying. He checked if she was too warm, or too cold. He fed her, burped her, changed her diaper, held her, swaddled her, washed her, pressed her against his skin, spoke to her, crooned at her, even begged her, but no matter what he did she kept crying. It went on for hours, the hysterical wails of a heart-broken infant, pitching higher as time went on.
Pressing his back against the wall, Leorio sank to the floor. He pushed his forehead against his knees, pressing his hands over his ringing ears. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he told her, shaking, lonely.
He wasn’t her mother by any means.
She screamed, and her toy flew out of the bassinet, slapping against the wall. It crumpled on the floor. Swallowing, he forced himself to his feet, picking up the worn plush.
It had to be much older than the baby. Maybe-
Maybe it was losing her mother’s smell.
Swallowing, (wallowing), Leorio picked the baby up, pressing the toy against her chest. Her pudgy arms wrapped around it. She hiccupped, silent for a moment, catching her breath, her large eyes staring up at him, wet with tears.
There it was again.
Bright and unforgettable crimson.
Leorio’s mouth clicked closed. He swallowed again, his throat dry.
But it made sense, didn’t it? Why would someone abandon their baby to Hunters, of all people? The exact organization who could find you again?
The exact organization who could protect you- your child- from being hunted down as well..?
Why else?
Leorio tripped across the room and fumbled for his phone. It wasn’t too late into the night yet, and Kurapika hardly slept anyway.
The phone rang once, twice. Leorio’s long legs took him across the room and back in no time; he whirled around and around. The baby’s hiccupy sobs broke back into whimpers, warning signs for another full-lunged cry. Leorio pressed the phone to his ear with his shoulder, tickling her cheek with trembling fingers. She turned her face away, kicking her feet. Leorio held her tighter, afraid to drop her as she squirmed unhappily. The phone rang a third time, a fourth.
It went to voicemail. He should’ve expected nothing less.
“Hey, Kurapika? We need to talk. It’s… about the Kurta. Call me back. Or… if you’re in town, come over. I’ll be home.”
He bit his lip, looking across the room, his sheets half-strewn on the floor, burp rags bundled on the changing station, a bag of still-packaged toys spilling into the doorway.
Well. He’d be here, anyway.