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“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Henry watches patiently as Diana finally rouses from her sleep with the cutest of yawns. His baby girl hasn’t said her first word yet, so she can only communicate through traditional infant babble, but that’s perfectly fine by Henry. He believes he’s become pretty proficient in the language of Di these past ten months.
It’s all too quick, in his opinion! Surely it was just yesterday when Henry’s sweet wife had informed him of her pregnancy. Diana was but a concept then, a terrifying yet wholly wonderful prospect in her own right.
Henry had been scared, frightened for a multitude of reasons that were too numerous to name. Passing on these damned abilities of his being the most pressing matter at hand. But Patty had promised Henry as many times as he needed her to that whatever happened, their daughter would be alright—that regardless of the powers she does or doesn’t inherit, Diana will always be loved and safe above all else.
Dr. Owens told the Creels that it was an outcome of when, not if, as Henry so desperately wanted. Diana had his blood type (one of two sole individuals on the planet) and was consequently burdened by such a horror.
Henry will never forgive himself for that, though Di’s powers are yet to showcase themselves. Even with Patty’s constant encouragement and light in his corner, it hardly eliminates the guilt he feels on a regular basis.
But he won’t need to worry about it for now. (Hopefully.)
It will be a nice, normal father-daughter day for them both. Unsurprisingly, these are the most frequent types and, additionally, favorite days of Henry Creel’s life.
Is it weird to admit that his daughter is also his best friend? The majority of people in society judge Henry as it stands for staying home with Diana while Patty goes out to work. He concludes it doesn’t really matter what others think of them, as all parties involved are happy with the arrangement at hand.
And that is ultimately the most important factor of all. Neither Henry nor Patty would change it for the world; they are right where they want to be.
(Even if both Henry and Diana miss Patty like mad when she’s away.)
Diana mewls for him softly, breaking Henry out of his train of thought, her stubby hands reaching out for her father, physically demanding to be held.
How could Henry ever deny her? Evangeline often said if Diana asked him to bring her the moon and its stars, Henry would somehow make it happen.
And she’s correct, for his baby deserves the very world itself. Patty and Diana are Henry’s reason for living, after all.
“How do you feel about some breakfast, sweetheart?” Henry asks Diana, as he gently removes her curls from the silk bonnet, booping Di’s tawny cheek in tandem as she giggles at the silly gesture.
It’s akin to a little bell, his daughter’s laugh.
“I’ll take that as a yes then?” Diana’s nuzzling into Henry’s sharp shoulder, making tiny noises and wiggling about.
They are about to make their leave until Di’s whine ceases any further movement.
“Ah, I’m sorry, darling," Henry says.
Other than her parents and Grandma Eva, the individual Diana Creel adores most in this wide universe is that of her stuffed bunny Rose, a pink-colored and immensely soft little thing. She’s arguably Di’s most loyal companion, besides Henry himself, obviously.
With a flick of his wrist and the subsequent thin trail of blood running from Henry’s nose, Rose is flown immediately to Diana’s side; she is grabbed by a desperate hand and held as tenderly as a ten-month-old could possibly manage.
A squeal of contentment sounds from Diana. Now they are finally ready to go.
~~~
He knows Diana is judging him as Henry watches over her. Di’s hazel eyes are narrowed as she locks on Henry’s cup of tea in particular.
Henry loves his daughter’s eyes (he adores everything about her, really),but especially Di’s eyes, due to a certain saying of his wife’s.
A little bit of you and a little bit of me. It makes Henry smile every time he thinks about it.
“Ba!” Diana sounds, waving a piece of fruit in Henry’s general direction.
Tea isn’t a meal, Da. Henry translates in his head, giggling fondly at Di’s insistence he gets proper nutrition. In so many wonderful ways she’s the spitting image of her mother.
Diana is pointing animatedly to Rose, who is currently slumped in front of her customary morning carrot. She’ll clearly never eat it, but that’s not the point of the game.
If a toy rabbit can eat… why can’t you?
Henry wants to cultivate a childlike sense of whimsy in his daughter for as long as humanly possible.
“Hey, don’t judge me. You’ll understand when you’re older.” Henry replies as Di shakes her head.
So clever for someone so small.
“If I eat, will you stop that scowl of yours?” Henry inquires, kneeling down in front of Diana’s high chair and kissing her nose, something that makes her laugh in response as she tries in a clumsy manner to kiss him back.
He supposes that counts as a yes, as long as Diana is happy.
The strawberry is sweet and light on his tongue, but what is even sweeter is how little Diana is clapping almost joyously at Henry’s achievement.
I knew you could do it, Da. She’s cheering in her own unique fashion, and Henry cannot help but love her all the more as a result.
~~~
Di’s your little doll, isn’t she? Henry hears Patty chuckle in his head as he and Diana both decide on her outfit for the day. Although they won’t be going out anywhere special, the day always feels brighter when you look like your best.
One of the lone lessons from his mother that Henry finds himself agreeing with. Also, it’s just fun to dress Diana up in all her various clothes and outfits. Alongside marvelling over how tiny her socks and accessories are. It’s almost too adorable; Henry wants to coo every time he dresses her.
No doubt Henry loathes the inevitability of his daughter growing up in any conceivable way, but it will be nonetheless interesting to see how her style evolves over time. He hopes she’ll still want his opinion even as she grows.
“Pink it is.” Henry says, as Diana seems quite infatuated with this dress in particular today, running her hands again and again over the velvet fabric. As he dresses his baby, Henry muses that Patty herself has a similar type of garment somewhere in that endless closet of hers. A collection mainly cultivated by Henry himself.
Will you be a performer just like her?
Di giggles as Henry attempts to get her socks on, kicking her stubby legs playfully. Some days she wants to wear socks, and others she doesn’t. Perhaps today will be a sock-less one for his girl, not that Henry minds to begin with.
He’s so excited for her curls to grow, most of all so Henry can utilize the countless skills he has learned over the years loving and observing from his Patty as well as certain much-appreciated tips via Evangeline. Sometimes a particularly idiotic person would inquire why he’d go through all the trouble to educate himself on Diana’s hair in the first place.
Because I’m her father. It’s a simple but no less succinct response.
It’s a blessing to care for his baby in any way she needs.
"Oh, you look so pretty," Henry coos while Diana sizes herself up in the vanity mirror in front of her. Dressed to impress in her pink dress with its complimentary sash and adorable ruffles.
An almost proud string of babble serves as Diana’s personal agreement.
Occasionally, Henry gets an odd urge to squish Diana; he never acts on it obviously, but he assumes it’s down to just how overwhelmingly darling his baby is. She’s so precious, it’s practically inhuman.
Not that he is biased in any way by admitting that, absolutely not.
~~~
“I said no, Diana," Henry says, albeit without the slightest hint of conviction a parent should possess when denying their child.
Diana is fond of many games. From the classic peekaboo to an infant-friendly version of hide-and-seek.
But they all pale in comparison to Di’s most beloved game of all.
It’s called flying, as there really is no more apt way to describe the pastime. It’s as literal as it sounds; however, 99.9 percent of fathers would proceed to pick their child up and lift them around to simulate the sensation of flying.
Whereas Henry Creel is actually magically capable of making his daughter fly. She unsurprisingly adores it, an adrenaline rush in every sense of the word. Henry, on the contrary, worries.
What if he drops her? What if it all goes wrong and he hurts her irrevocably?!
Diana looks up at him, her beautiful eyes big and watery with disappointment.
“No, please! Not the puppy dog eyes!" Henry cries, understanding that even in her undeniable youth Diana knows exactly what she is doing in this moment.
Patty performs the exact same expression. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and Henry finds himself incredibly weak in its wake, no matter how inconsequential the task.
You spoil her rotten. Chides a voice internally that sounds eerily close to his mother.
So what, Mother? Henry would verbally retort if Mother were actually physically present in the room. Despite his fears, there’s nothing Diana wouldn’t deserve in his humble opinion.
It’s okay, Da… I know you’d never hurt me. Diana seemingly pleads with her eyes as she tugs frustratedly at his pant leg.
“Alright! But just this once. Then we’ll stick to playing on the ground, yes?”
Diana beams at her father, in a manner that all but confirms Henry won’t honor his own rule one bit.
He lifts his hand carefully, and Diana begins to float up and away, screaming happily as she gains a steady speed and momentum in the air.
More! Henry can hear her mind roar as she laughs like crazy in apparent glee. Such a sweet sound, he finds himself laughing happily right alongside her.
His little shooting star.
~~~
“In Dublin’s fair city… where the girls are so pretty… I set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone…” Henry sings as he plays the piano to a very enthusiastic Diana.
If Diana weren't such a perfect name for their dearest daughter, Henry believes he would’ve vouched for her to be called Molly instead.
She’s a Garraty too—don’t forget it, boy. Henry ponders if his mother knows just how much such a statement means to him. The years haven’t necessarily changed their relationship considerably, but they have definitely softened his mother’s more spiteful tendencies from his youth.
Never will Henry Creel treat his baby girl in such a cruel manner. Nothing she could ever do (however bad) would warrant his ire. There’s simply no need.
Diana babbles along with Henry in his bony lap; he hopes he isn’t as uncomfortable for Diana as often feared. Henry is the polar opposite to Patty’s squishiness and innate warmth, opposingly being thin and miserably cold in temperature. Why Diana would ever prefer him in that sense is completely beyond him.
Maybe she’s just used to it at this point, perhaps Diana actually likes his coldness in some strange roundabout way.
She’s her mother’s daughter at the end of the day.
He giggles at Diana’s ill-fated attempt to mirror her father on the piano. She's far too small currently to ever play the instrument correctly, but Henry doesn’t care in the slightest; he’ll never dull Di’s innate sense of wonder that seems to follow everything she comes across.
Does she recall how I used to play for her? Not a day in Patty’s pregnancy went without Henry playing for her and Diana, be it grand or small. It was one of his greatest joys at the time, a task to keep him sane.
“I’ll teach you when you’re older, sweetheart… would you like that?”
Diana turns around and reaches for his face. Henry wonders if she’ll make a grab for his glasses specifically (Di seems to have a fascination for them), but it is not to be as Henry’s little girl pats his sharp cheekbone and motions to be brought upwards. Her father characteristically obliges.
Mwah! Diana presses a kiss to his cheek, and Henry feels his heart melting in real time.
What a special gift it will be to share the love of music with his Diana.
~~~
Normally, nap time is quite the mundane affair, as Diana is fond of her sleep. Yet today things are different because, despite Henry’s best efforts, she cannot seem to settle.
She cries weakly on his slender chest as Henry does his best to soothe Di in the rocking chair, making sure that her loyal Rose is at her side and additionally confirming that he has checked off all the boxes in terms of her routine.
Of course, he has. If anyone sticks to a routine, it’s Henry Creel, but sometimes there are outcomes that even he cannot predict.
He sings absentmindedly while patting her small back; it’s only then that Henry realizes he’s humming The Ballad of Barbara Allen to his child, a morbid choice for a baby most likely, yet it seems to comfort Diana well enough, so he soldiers on, the lyrics as natural to him as breathing itself.
“I love you, Diana, so so much.” Henry whispers into her ear, feeling somewhat sleepy himself but staying awake regardless.
“Da.”
Any previous fatigue is completely wiped away at that. Henry looks down at Diana, shock and awe alike etched onto his face.
“W-what?” Henry knows he is shaking currently because he can’t quite believe what is happening is actually reality.
"Da," Diana repeats, reaching for his tie.
I love you too. Diana says, mentally, though she doesn’t have the vocabulary to express such an emotion yet, that doesn’t mean it’s any less felt by her father.
Unfortunately, she won’t be getting that nap anytime soon with Henry’s constant praise and ramblings of love unable to be quelled from being known.
The lights splutter around father and daughter, but for once Henry doesn’t feel disturbed at their presence.
For he only has eyes for his Diana, a little miracle in every facet of the term.
~~~
Patty Creel’s husband yells her name in delight before she’s even barely entered the house, and as a result, she can’t stop herself from laughing at his sheer excitement.
How she adores her Captain Midnight.
“What is it, honey?” Patty asks as Henry quickly envelops her in his embrace, little Diana squished lovingly between her parents as she attempts to grab for Patty’s necklace. Di’s always had a penchant for shiny things.
Henry’s kissing her so affectionately and rapidly she can hardly get a word in edgewise.
“Oh my little wife, I love you.” Henry mumbles into her curls, temporarily forgetting himself as Di smiles at Patty with her tiny teeth and all.
“I love you too, darling. I’m guessing you had a good day together?” Patty summarizes, reaching forward to kiss Diana to try and make up for her absence.
Henry literally jumps at her words, his blue eyes sparkling and blonde waves ruffled boyishly in his glee. It makes Patty want to kiss him until he is utterly breathless.
“Yes! Oh Patty—I can’t believe—go on, Diana, say it again!" Henry coaxes, turning to Di with knowledge that only they share.
Patty is confused for only a second because Diana halts any question in her wake.
“Da.” Their daughter says, loud and unquestionable.
Her first word!
And it couldn’t be more perfect.
“Oh Henry.” Patty whispers, drawing closer into his hold, Diana repeating her first word like it’s a melody.
“You’re not upset?” Henry asks, looking down at Patty and cupping her bronze cheek with his free hand.
Patty laughs adoringly, a harmonic and happy thing in itself.
“Why ever would I be upset, baby?” Patty replies, pulling at his tie and playing with Diana’s curls.
“Because you’re her mother—and I—“
“And you’re her father. Why should it matter who comes first? Diana loves us, and we love her. I’m so happy for you, my dear!” Patty proclaims, her truth in every word.
“My girls.” Henry beams, creating roses out of thin air to place in nowhere else but Patty's and Diana’s respective curls.
Patty believes Henry's never looked more beautiful than in this moment as she proceeds to kiss her husband and daughter, holding them both as close to her heart as she can get, never to let them go.