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Davos does not find Jon until late, tucked away in the skinny crevice between Stannis’ heavy wooden desk and the tall, overfull bookshelves lining their office wall. The boy is shrunken into himself, leaning his head against the cherry oak as he sniffles into his chest, and that alone makes Davos’ chest tighten.
“Hey there, youth,” he whispers as he lowers to his knees, extending a hand to brush Jon’s hair out of his face. “What seems to be the problem, hm?”
Jon looks up with great hesitance, peering one eye out from under his shaggy curtain of curls. “Loud,” he mumbles tearfully, clasping his palms over his ears. “All hot.”
Ah. “Aye, that it is,” Davos says, tucking Jon’s hair back behind his hands. “You don't like this heat, do you?”
The recent torrid spell in Storm’s End has been rather unexpected, but the lightning storms it’s brought along have been a little less so. The warmth has stifled Jon in many, many ways, however – he’s lessened his time outdoors, much to both Davos and Stannis’ chagrin, and sheltered himself near entirely in his room most days, shrouded in cool darkness. Ghost has stuck with him too, and Davos has only ever seen the pup leave his room to station himself and pace back and forth protectively in front of Jon’s door.
“Don’ like it,” Jon murmurs affirmatively, pressing his forehead against the lip of Stannis’ desk with a ragged little whimper. He keeps an eye fixed on Davos, tilting his head to the side in a fashion that looks more than a wee bit painful.
Davos’ shoulders jump to his ears, cringing inward at the sight. “Oh, little lord, let's not do that. C’mon, let's get you out of there, alright?” he coos, hunching forward to help Jon up to his feet.
The lad leans into him and nearly collapses as soon as they're both back up, burying his head into the crook of Davos’ neck. Davos doesn't mind, though – he grasps his boy snugly in his arms and sways, humming gently into the top of Jon’s head. “C’n you help?” Jon whispers, and Davos nods so fast his head could near snap off.
“Lords, of course,” he says, carding his fingers through Jon’s hair affectionately. “So very proud of you for asking us, pup. Let’s get you nice and settled then, ay?”
As if on cue, Davos’ ears ring with the familiar click of Stannis’ key in the door. “Home,” Stannis hollers from down below, tiny footsteps on the stairs following close behind.
“Davos?” Shireen calls, her voice echoing down the hall. Jon stiffens.
Davos straightens up, too. He and Stannis have yet to find the time to talk about whether they're even going to tell Shireen about this or not, whether it'd be beneficial for Jon yet – but it seems that choice has been taken from the lot of them, now. His brain cycles, and Davos soon finds himself calmed with shockingly simple answers. He exhales.
“Alright,” Davos whispers, cradling Jon’s little head in his hands. “It seems Shireen is going to either have to become privy to this tonight, or you’ll have to try and hold on for a moment, in here on your lonesome or coming along with me now.”
Davos’ chest aches as he says it, watching the shamed panic sparking in Jon’s eyes. “Haf’ to?” Jon sniffles, and Davos nearly splits in two.
“‘fraid so, my little lad,” he says, voice low, “but I do not think any option will be nearly as bad as your head conjures up. I believe our princess will love you just the same, no matter your mind.”
Jon nods hesitantly, lifting his fingers to his mouth. “‘lright,” he breathes, near silent, and Davos smiles sweetly down at him as they begin making their way to meet Shireen in the hallway.
Shireen perks up as soon as they slip out of the office, door clicking softly shut behind them. “Jon!” she sings as her eyes land upon him at Davos’ side, hidden rather slightly in his shadow. “I didn’t know you would be here yet! Papa had said you’ve been staying. I'm so glad to see you!”
She bolts forward to wrap the older teen in a hug, pressing in on the little sphere of safety he's composed for himself before Davos can reach to stop her, and Jon lets out a loud, shrill whine as soon as she brushes his skin.
Shireen pulls back immediately, raising her hands in retreat. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry,” she frets, shaking like a leaf. “I didn't mean to do anything.”
Davos shakes his head, reaching out to steady them both. “No need at all, m’lady.” He brushes Shireen’s hair back behind her ear as he had done with Jon before, rubbing her mottled cheek with his thumb. “We’re all just going to head downstairs and have a little talk with Papa, alright? It's grown long overdue.”
Shireen nods dutifully, crossing her hands in front of her shawl, and travels down to meet her father in the den. Jon and Davos trail close behind.
When they move into the living room, Stannis is already stepping forward to hold them both with wide arms. “Good afternoon, little wolf,” he whispers to Jon, and Jon keens in his grasp.
“'il woof, ‘il woof,” Jon chirrups, nuzzling his nose into Stannis’ broad chest.
Jon’s echoing has grown much more prominent as they've explored this charming, open side of the youth, with sweet little repetitions following Davos and Stannis at near every step these days. He particularly enjoys echoing Stannis, but that doesn't really surprise Davos at all – he and Shireen are both just as prone to echolalia, whether either of them recognize it or not, and Davos finds the subconscious feedback loop between the three of them rather endearing.
“Papa?” Shireen says quietly, settled in her little egg chair in the corner. She looks concerned, still, brows furrowed in worry.
Stannis settles Jon in Davos’ arms and twists back around, hunkering down to meet Shireen’s glimmering eyes. “Yes, my dear, I’m sorry,” he reassures, patting her knee affectionately. “We're going to talk now.”
“‘s okay,” Shireen replies, bumping her forehead against Stannis’. “I just want to ask, um, what’s – is something wrong with Jon?”
Davos can see her throat tighten, muscles tense with concern, and his heart aches at all the tender displays of care in front of him. Jon, so deeply terrified of opening up, snuggling close to his chest with half his fingers in his mouth amidst them all despite his nerves. Stannis – his precious, lovely, stupid Stannis – with their two itty bitty needlings grasping at the front and back of his flannel, whispering sweet nothings to the two as they both titter with anxiety. And then there's Shireen – the kindest little soul, so overfull of affection and compassion that her guilt oft seems to run off, carrying her concerns over to every heavy thing in the world. They make quite a funny set, his little loves.
“Nothing is quite wrong with Jon, Ree,” Davos says, holding the dark youth close to him still. “He's got – well…”
“A condition,” Stannis offers, slid down into the egg seat with Shireen now.
He cradles her similar to the way Davos is holding Jon, her tiny face nestled close to his chest. “Jon has been through many difficult things like you and I, and he needs special care because of that sometimes,” he adds, and Shireen nods in easy understanding.
“Like our brains?” she says in a soft voice, peering over at Jon curiously.
Davos hums in affirmation, stroking his fingers through Jon’s hair. He places his free hand on Jon’s shoulder and guides the boy to the recliner across from Shireen’s nest, and she smiles at them both in earnest as they settle in front of her.
He's also relatively sure that Jon has started dropping into babyspace, if the burbles vibrating through his shoulder and the spitty, chewed-up fingers Jon is sporting are any indicator, so they must make the rest of this quick before Jon can unsettle himself and detach from the comfortable cradle of his mushiest state. Davos takes a shallow, trembling breath inwards.
“It’s a little… more than that, love,” Stannis says from beside Shireen, and Davos gratefully deflates, beginning to rock Jon back and forth once more.
“Sometimes Jon feels a wee bit smaller than usual,” Stannis explains then, gently carding through Shireen’s hair with his thin fingers. “Our Davos and I have been, ah, taking care of him. Specially.”
Shireen blinks. “Is it, like.. grown-up stuff?” she whispers, cocking her head in question.
“Quite the opposite, actually.” Davos chimes, surprising even himself. “He just… grows smaller. Younger in the mind. Your father and I have taken to encouraging it.”
Stannis nods at that, holding Shireen close in his arms. “Aye,” he says. “Sometimes his head gets even littler than you, y’know. And the way he is – the way people like us are – makes everything feel a lot stronger for our Jon than others, so Davos and I help lessen the load for him.”
Shireen is quiet for a few moments. “Is he a baby?” she asks at last, looking up at her father with great thrill. “I'd like a baby brother.”
Davos and Stannis both bark out sweet laughter at that. “He can be, a bit of the time,” Davos says, stroking the side of Jon’s head dotingly. “In fact, I believe he might be now.”
“Ah-bah,” Jon warbles, as if he's replying to them directly. He grasps at Davos’ hand in his own and begins to flex their fingers together rhythmically, and with it all Davos’ suspicion is fully confirmed.
“Very much a baby,” Stannis chuckles, glancing over at the tender little show before them.
Shireen beams, fiddling her hands in her lap with nervous excitement. “May I see him?” she asks, voice low, and Davos nods approvingly as she shuffles over to sit in front of him, balancing herself on Stannis’ dark leather ottoman.
Jon peeks his head out, then, tiny brown eyes darting between the girl in front of him and her papa behind. “Mmh?” he murmurs, reaching a hand to pat over Shireen’s little face.
“She’s safe, lad,” Davos whispers above him, stroking Jon’s hair lightly, and Jon melts, cooing comfortably as he drops his perusing digit to his side and settles back into Davos’ lap. He hums a little more, brushing his face along Davos’ chestbone, and Davos just continues to rock them both in place.
The thing about Jon’s babyspace is just how far down he goes. Davos doesn't mind it at all, and he's pretty darn sure Stannis doesn't particularly mind either, but their little boy falls so incredibly dependent that it can be hard to pry him out of their grasp. He clings, sobbing like it's the end of the world when one of them has to walk out for even a moment, and sometimes he fusses so endlessly that Davos finds himself missing Matthos’ weak skulking, much to his ever-growing chagrin.
The depth Jon drops to makes sense, however. It's incredibly rare for him to just let go like he does when he gets this small, so they try and encourage it as often as possible. He’s only ever gooey and sweet like this, really, and neither Davos nor Stannis desire to put limits on any of their baby’s much needed comfort.
“I think Jon is feeling rather sleepy, Ree,” Stannis says, standing to clasp his hand over Shireen's shoulder. “Would you like to help our Davos get him settled?”
Shireen’s eyes gleam. “Oh, may I, Papa? Really?” she gasps, clutching joyously at Stannis’ sleeve.
“Yes, my dear,” he laughs, patting her shoulder gently. “Why don't you come with me and help get a bottle ready?”
Shireen squeals her thanks, tugging hastily at the hem of Stannis’ shirt, and Davos soon finds himself alone with Jon in the rocker as his dear Baratheons bound off to the kitchenette. “Looks like it's just you and me now, lad,” Davos says, and the boy coos sweet nonsense in reply.
Davos can hear quiet puttering in the kitchen as they rock a moment longer, the excited whispers of Shireen trailing behind her father as he shows her how to prepare the nutrition shakes they've been feeding Jon on drowsy evenings like this.
Well – actually, Davos isn't even really sure what hour it is. “Stannis,” he calls, “do you have the time?”
“Ten after six, love.” Stannis replies, sticking his head out of the kitchen doorway. “The both of you’d been sleeping most of daylight even before I’d left to fetch Shireen.”
Goodness. Not quite as late as he'd thought. “I’m going to nestle Jon up on the couch then, alright?” Davos says, and Stannis gestures his approval before pulling back again.
“You hear that, youth?” Davos hums, patting Jon’s head gently. He scoops the little lad into his arms to carry them off and presses a tender kiss to his forehead, at which Jon laughs brightly.
Davos is so joyfully surprised he almost drops the baby, jaw tightening as he regains his composure and swoops them back up at the last moment.
“Gods be good, I don't think I've ever heard you laugh like that!” Davos crows, smacking kisses all over Jon’s little face just to hear it again. The boy squirms and squeals with laughter, wriggling happily in his arms, and Davos is pretty damn sure he hasn't felt this full inside since... well, ever.
“Is that Jon?” Shireen says softly, popping up next to them like a Bobo doll as Stannis’ socked feet follow deftly behind.
Ever on point, Jon burbles a little sound – mm-buh – and leans into Davos’ shoulder to look Shireen over once again. He reaches a hand out to her, dangling limply with futile baby-strength, and she reaches up to clasp it with a grin on her face.
“Hi, baby,” she whispers, awed. Davos’ heart feels as if it's going to implode.
“Ree,” Jon hums, squeezing at her hand with his scrabbly paws. “ReeReeRee!” Another sweet little giggle comes from him then, and she laughs giddily in return.
Shireen’s smile shines as they come closer together, Jon’s fingers entwined in hers. “He’s so sweet,” she says fondly, swaying in place.
“Aye,” Stannis says, shaking the pale yellow bottle of milky mixture in his hand as he steps closer to the three. “Would you like to help us nest him, my love?”
“Oh, please, please,” Shireen whispers, looking up at him as she squeezes Jon’s hands one last time. “Where are we going, Papa? What can I do?”
Stannis places a hand on her lower back in lieu of reply, steering her up the stairs to the dark, cozy den. Davos and Jon follow suit.
There's a dozen blankets sprawled all over the couch as is, still pulled out fully from their Gladiator movie night the evening prior. Davos moves to lay them out a little neater, pulling one aside to swaddle the baby with, and Shireen comes in to bundle the rest up and form an impromptu nest in the corner. Stannis follows in behind her, completing their little quad, and assists in nestling Jon deep enough that they can all huddle snugly around him.
Davos is first to lay down, tucking in close as he wraps Jon up in his broad arms. “Got you, lad,” he assures, and Jon hums again in rhapsodic response.
There's quiet rumblings for a moment as Stannis assists Shireen in selecting and loading a DVD into their home theatre, and Davos can faintly hear thumps up the steps and down the hall before Ghost comes bounding in, leaping up and settling himself between Davos and Jon.
“‘y woof!” Jon sing-songs, reaching out with clumsy hands to pet at Ghost’s ears. “A’woof woof.”
Ghost leans into him, then, quiet snuffling not unlike Jon’s own, and the two settle happily with Davos’ arm thrown over the both of them. He lifts the bottle Stannis has prepared to Jon's little pouty lips, and the pup latches on to suckle happily as his eyes begin to droop.
Stannis finally gets their evening viewing ready – or, perhaps more accurately, prepares their bedtime background noise – and turns to the couch, guiding a suddenly increasingly dozy Shireen at his front as they both lay on Jon’s free side. She ends up curled into her father’s arms as they burrow in, fists tucked up against herself like a sweet, sleepy kitten, and her back butts up against Jon’s own, bumping Davos’ hand to the one Stannis has fastened gently round Ree’s shoulders. Davos reaches out to clutch it.
They lock eyes, then, sweet younglings tucked between them. “Hello,” Stannis whispers, smiling, and Davos smiles too.
“Hello, m’love,” he returns. “Are you doing well?”
“Aye, quite alright.” Stannis says warmly. “I think Shireen is rather happy to be here.”
As if answering him directly, Shireen yawns and settles herself comfortably into Stannis’ chest. Davos can't help but coo at the snug bundle of little things cuddling up between them. “Rather, yes,” he says softly, and Stannis chortles under his breath.
“What’d you pick for the lad tonight, then?” Davos asks, squeezing Stannis’ hand gently. Jon sleepily buries his face into Ghost’s fur.
Stannis shrugs his freer shoulder, glancing to the screen flickering dimly on the wall. “Ah, that Treasure Planet flick.” he says, looking back to Davos. “He's liked that, yeah?”
Stannis’ answer betrays him. He knows Jon has liked that one, Davos knows it – many evenings have been spent looking online for things they could find for the baby, and Davos has seen the evidence strewn then of Stannis’ searches for toys and varying items that may ply Jon’s growing fascination with the picture. He's settled the boy in his lap as he works from home some afternoons, tucking a tablet with the film on it between his little paws, and Davos has even found Stannis watching it over Jon’s little head, drawn to tears by the end.
“Aye, believe so,” Davos says simply, grinning knowingly at the ever gentler man before him. His heart warms. “Wake us when it's over, will you? I don't want Jon getting used to sleeping on the couch.”
Stannis hums, nodding gently ‘gainst the crown of Shireen’s head. “Course, love. Let's talk of setting him up an extra special room soon, mm? I'd like him to feel…”
“Settled,” Davos offers.
Stannis blinks. “Yes, I suppose.” he says bluntly, mouth twitching fondly at the corners. “Settled, comfortable, safe… Whatever helps him in this. I quite like our little lad.”
Jon fusses a little then, wiggling himself tighter amidst the lot of them. He nuzzles into Davos’ embrace with a soft whine, Ghost rooting himself to nestle in too, and Davos brushes his hand against the babe’s forehead to soothe him once more.
“Going to keep him, aren't we?” Davos says after a moment, glancing up at Stannis with tender eyes.
Stannis just smiles. “Aye,” he says, looking fondly down on their young, and Davos heart feels near bursting.
“Good,” Davos replies warmly, and he happily closes his eyes and slips into their sleepy little bubble of content.