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Five hours.
It had exactly been five hours since Marinette had gone into her labor. Four hours and thirty minutes since she, in all her pained glory, had rushed to the Police Department to get his sorry self out of the jail. Four hours since they had rushed her to the hospital and got her in the maternity ward. And since then, Luka had been pacing outside the room, every passing minute making him more jittery, more anxious.
He tapped his fingers on his bicep in anticipation, letting out a small hiss as a sharp pain shot through his arm. He looked down to find small crescent marks left by Marinette’s nails on his skin.
God, an angry, pregnant Mari was sure a fiery Mari.
Luka bounced on one foot and another, watching the second hand complete yet another round around the face of the clock. It was 6.01 A.M.
Five hours and one minute since his wife had gone into labor, and there was yet no sign of their little bundle of joy.
Mentally, he ran the list of do’s and don’ts post-deliveries. Sabine had already brought Marinette’s maternity bag, so that was not an issue. And Luka had double-checked with all his acquaintances to make sure that there was no confetti, no cake, no party involved. (No, Jagged, a concert in the air with rain of flowers does count as a party and hence is totally out of question).
He had google searched and memorised all complications that could occur during delivery. There could be the cord problems, or the baby could have a high heart rate, or wait… was that Marinette screaming? What if Marinette lost too much blood? Oh gosh, he was O-positive, but what was Marinette’s blood type again? If he remembered well, it was O-positive, right? Or was it the rare AB negative? Oh dear, what if it was AB negative…
“Luka, idiot, breathe.”
The young man drew in a sharp breath, immediately to cough and splutter on the air. Brielle thumped on his back as he wheezed, bringing him back to normalcy. “Gosh, you are dumber than Dingus.”
“Don’t compare me to that platypus,” Luka choked out as he straightened his clothes. “He was the reason I was in jail today.”
“And Marinette’s sure not going to let you off the hook for that,” the brunette smirked. “Speaking of Marinette, it seems like… WAIT, where are you going, Couffaine?!”
Luka let out a splutter as his lady friend grabbed him by the hood and tugged at him, causing him to choke for air. And before he knew, he was thrown into one of the nearby waiting chairs, a glowering Brielle Queen staring down at him.
“I-I-Marinette…” Luka stammered panickedly. “Why is she screaming, Bri? Is she supposed to scream?”
The woman let out a long sigh, before slamming her hands down on Luka’s shoulder, causing him to squeak. “Luka. Clarence. Couffaine.”
He gulped at his full name.
“Are you seriously as much of an idiot as you show yourself to be?” Brielle inquired in a done voice. “Like, seriously, do I need to tell you that babies are born when-”
“TMI! TMI! TMI!” Luka put his hands up in surrender, pushing Brielle away from his red face. “I know the mechanics of how a baby is born, Bri. No need to go into that. I just--” He looked at her, and then at the door of the maternity ward with a scared expression. “Are you sure Marinette’s okay?”
“Gosh,” Brielle threw her arms up in the air, letting out a near screech. “I am confused, is it you or Marinette who’s actually delivering the baby?!”
Luka chose to remain silent, and fidgeted with the spinner ring in his fingers.
Satisfied that she had calmed the Couffaine male down, Brielle plopped herself down on another chair. There was a silence for a few moments, before her angry, hushed whispers reached his ears. For sure, she was giving Dingo a hard time about getting his sorry butt in jail. Again.
(Roger was practically family at this point.)
Luka tuned her out, his entire focus on the spinner ring and on centering his thoughts. He knew he was overthinking, but with all the stress from those… five? No, six baby showers that Marinette had got (their poor, future unborn kids were probably not going to get any baby showers), the delivery process was at a high risk of complication, according to Google. And Luka really didn’t want any more things to go downhill.
So when the door to the maternity ward flung open and the nurse called for “Mr. Couffaine”, Luka had immediately shot up from his seat and staggered hurriedly towards the room on legs made of jelly.
And that was when he found himself frozen at the door.
Marinette was lying in the bed, her pallor clearly pale. Beside her bed, the nurse was wrapping a little bundle up and putting it in the cradle.
Luka once again started recalling the blood groups of everyone in their family.
“She’s just unconscious, Mr. Couffaine.”
“Huh?” Luka jerked out of his reverie at the nurse’s voice, looking at her with a confuddled expression. The lady giggled, before pointing at the crib by the side of the bed. “There is the joy you’re searching for.”
She walked out of the room, and Luka stared at her retreating figure for a moment in confusion, before his sleep-deprived messed up brain actually caught up with her statement. Shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes blearily, he staggered towards the crib in the corner of the room.
And almost collapsed at the sight of the little angel who lay within.
His gaze travelled from the tiny leg that poked out of the fluffy blanket up her tiny arms, and Luka almost let out a gasp of wonder and awe at seeing how tiny the baby’s fingers really were. He took in her scrunched up eyes, her tiny button nose, her messy dark hair. He wondered whom she had inherited her eyes and the mop of hair from. Though, she had certainly inherited the habit of drooling in her sleep from her Maman.
The baby sneezed, and Luka felt his legs go weak as he sunk down to his knees, his heart overwhelmed with all the cuteness that lay in front of him.
“You’re supposed to pick her up, you dumbo.”
Luka looked up to find Bri looking at him with an unimpressed expression as she scrolled through her phone.
“I..what?” He spluttered, not believing his ears.
“Pick her up. You are her Papa, Couffaine,” the woman snarked, though her voice held a subtle softness in it.
“I-but...what if I drop her?”
“Oh gosh, Luka,” Brielle kneeled down to his level, looking at him dead in the eyes. “You did attend those parenting classes, right?”
“Right.”
“They taught you how to hold a baby, right?”
“Right.”
“You are not Dingo King, right?”
“Absolutely right.”
She clapped his shoulder, getting up. “Then you can of course do it the right way. Now excuse me, I’ve got a stupid platypus of my husband to get out of jail.”
Luka stared at the crib blankly, before deciding that he was certainly not going to pick the baby up. He didn’t trust himself at this right now, not at all.
Apparently the baby had other plans, and had inherited her Maman’s tendency to seek attention. For she immediately broke into a fit of wails and whimpers.
“Oh shoot, no no no, please don’t cry, please don’t cry,” Luka whispered urgently to the little one, hoping against all hopes that the baby-who-had-not-been-in-the-world-for-ten-goshdarned-minutes would understand his fervent English and stop crying.
Well, she in fact was a baby-who-had-not-been-in-the-world-for-ten-goshdarned-minutes who had zero knowledge of languages. So, she of course continued with her little orchestra.
Luka panicked a little, throwing a quick glance in Marinette’s direction. His wife was sleeping soundly, though the furrow in her brows meant she was being bothered.
Marinette deserved all the rest for bringing his, hers, their Harmony into the world.
Harmony. That was a nice name.
The baby let out another string of high pitched notes, causing Luka to nearly close his ears shut.
Harmony could be a very good vocalist in future, but right now he really needed her to shush.
And one of the lessons in parenting had highlighted that babies needed cuddles to quieten down.
Which meant he had to pick the little angel up.
Gingerly walking towards the little crying bundle, Luka sucked in a deep breath as he bent down. Trembling hands snaked under the tiny tot’s head and small bottom. And, with one final prayer to Lady Luck, Luka picked the baby up and cradled her to his chest.
The wailing immediately quietened down to a few whimpers as Luka brought his arms closer to himself, and baby Harmonika nuzzled into her dad’s chest.
“Lu...ka?”
His wife’s sleepy murmur caught his attention, and he immediately turned around to find Marinette blinking at him sleepily.
Moving over to her quickly, he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Love, sleep. I got Harm.”
“Harm..?” Marinette asked in her sedated daze, before her gaze locked onto the bundle in his arms. “Oh, Harm...oni..ka...we’re naming her? Ni-ice.” Marinette held her hands out shakily. “Give her to...me, Lu. I wanna hold her.”
He let out a small chuckle as he kissed her on the nose. “No, HeartSong, sleep first. You must be very tired.”
“Tired...yeah,” Marinette mumbled as she sunk into the pillows, letting out a sigh. “Idiot husband...in jail… six baby showers… tiring…”
He laughed at his wife’s cuteness, before letting out a small yelp as Marinette half shot-up. “Tell me Harmonika wasn’t born in a car, Luka.”
“No, no, she wasn’t, she wasn’t,” he pacified her, nudging her back to sleep. “If she had been, you would’ve castrated me by now.”
“I’ve plans… later…”
Before Luka could ask her if she really meant that, Marinette was fast asleep.
He sighed, his attention back to the angel in his arms. Harmony -- or rather, Harmonika (as her mother had named her) --was fast asleep now, a little dribble of drool rolling down from the corner of her mouth. Luka let out a small laugh as he bent down and kissed her forehead.
And realised that his baby girl had fisted his shirt in her tiny hands.
Luka felt like the Grinch -- his heart grown three sizes, 21 inches and 7 pounds. He let out a sob of joy as the events of the day finally hit him. Months of waiting, weeks of pampering and loads of baby showers (that landed him in jail) later, his, Marinette’s, their Harmonika had finally arrived in the world.
And was Luka not a proud dad? He of course was. For his baby girl had arrived into the world in a state of total hullabaloo. With full confusion and full drama. Just like the hurricane a Couffaine always had been.
“Just like the little Chaos Couffaine you were meant to be,” he muttered fondly as he bent down to rub his big nose against his little angel’s tiny button one.