Thrills To Spare

"Baby, no, be nice to Daddy's hair." Jordan Staal grimaced as the small boy yanked happily at his blonde locks.

"Mine!" He giggled, grabbing fistfuls of his silky strands, tugging on them affectionately.

"Actually, mine, they are attached to my head, making them mine." He explained, knowing he wouldn't really understand, but it made him feel better nonetheless. "Who wants a snack, huh?" He asked his seventeen-month wonder.

"Mine?" He asked as he swooped him down from his shoulders and into his arms, holding him like he was a little baby, pressing kisses all over him precious face, causing him to giggle and squeal. Dylan Eric Staal was a clone of his father, and Jordan Staal had the pictures to prove it, when he would put his own baby pictures up next to photos of Dylan and you would never be able to tell the difference.

‘Mine’ was one of Dylan’s favorite words, and one of the few he actually knew. Jordan and Phoebe, Jordan’s wife and mother to his child, would love when they would walk into their Pittsburgh home and Dylan would tilt his head at them cutely before squeaking in his cute voice, ‘mine?’

“Om, nom, nom.” Jordan voiced as he fed Dylan his favorite snack of soft animal crackers and applesauce. Dylan could eat like a linebacker some days, and the next he would refuse to eat even the tiniest bit of his favorite food: spaghetti and meatballs.

“Broken!” He announced, pointing at a giraffe that was missing an ear. “Broken!” He pointed gravely with wide eyes.

“I got it, I got it.” He insisted, picking up the flawed, delicious animal and popping it into his mouth. “See? All better.” He insisted, making Dylan giggle before double fisting two crackers, gnawing on each one alternately.

“Mama.” Dylan stated, leaning back in his highchair and sticking one of his hands down his diaper.

“Aye.” Jordan laughed, removing the hand before swooping his son up into his arms. “Mama is going to be home soon, she and Auntie Kara are shopping for baby sister.” He sighed jealously, “then she’ll be home and we can watch the ‘yardigans and Mama is going to make dinner.” He informed the boy who could probably care less as he attempted to climb all over his Daddy’s shoulders to get at the hair he adored to tug. He paused his ministrations, his diaper-clad butt hanging over the front of Jordan’s shoulder to let out a wide yawn, showing his pink tongue, squeezing his blue eyes shut. “Oh, ho.” Jordan laughed, smiling widely. “Can’t hide that one from me, big guy.” He insisted. “Someone’s ready for a nap.”

“No.” Dylan whined, squeezing handfuls of his father’s t-shirt in his small fists, wiggling his behind as he recognized the path to his nursery. “Cuddles!” He squealed, being sneaky, knowing his Daddy wouldn’t say no and this way he could sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s bed. Jordan paused with a sigh before turning on his heel to head back over to his own bedroom.

“You are the most spoiled boy I know.” Jordan grinned. “If I wanted to cuddle when I was your age, all I got was a noogie on the head and a slap on the butt by big bad Uncle Eric. I still can’t figure out why your Mommy insisted on giving you his name.” He sighed. “If anything, we needed another Jordan.” He rambled, knowing that the baby wasn’t listening for one second.

Jordan took a running start, making Dylan giggle and squeal as his Daddy held him tightly before flopping onto his back atop the luxurious bed. Dylan cuddled up close to his father’s chest, watching with great interest as he traced the cleft in his Daddy’s chin with his tiny finger, having the same cleft on his tiny face.

“I wan’ Mama.” Dylan sighed sleepily.

“I know, but I guess Daddy will have to do for now.” Jordan rolled his eyes before letting his blonde lashes close tiredly. It wasn’t long before his infant son was asleep, thumb tucked happily into his mouth as he waited for his Mama to come home.

Soon enough, Dylan awoke to the sound of the front door closing, climbing off of his Daddy’s sleeping body and hopping to the ground, bare feet padding against the wood floors to stand at the top of the stairs. He turned around, going down the stairs on his hands and knees slowly until he reached the bottom.

“Mama?” He asked, peeking his head around into the family room. “Mama!” He giggled, seeing Phoebe as she slowly lowered herself into the couch. Phoebe paused, getting up to catch Dylan who flung himself at her legs.

“Hey pretty boy.” She greeted, pulling him onto the couch with her, smiling at the way he would nuzzle himself right under her arm. “Where’s your Daddy, huh? I think he’s supposed to be watching you.” She grinned, watching as Dylan’s small thumb tucked itself back into his mouth, a clear sign he didn’t sleep for nearly long enough.

“Cuddles.” Dylan mumbled through his fingers, meaning that Daddy was upstairs sleeping, the usual case when Phoebe would come home from a day out. “Baby.” He stated, putting his free hand on his Mommy’s swollen tummy.

“You’re right, sweetheart, baby sister.” Phoebe nodded. And as Jordan appeared in the archway of the family room, his hair tousled as his bare chest exposed as well as the fine, white blonde hairs that lead from his belly button to his sleep pants, Phoebe lost her train of thought.

“Mommy, you’ve got some drool.” Jordan grinned, knowing exactly what he could do her now that her hormones were going crazy within her. It was the same as when she would get hot and bothered watching him shave in the morning, pulling him back into the bedroom just as he would rub on the balm of his aftershave. “How’s my baby girl?” He asked, walking around to the front of the couch, crouching down and placing his dinner plate size hands on her tummy, leaning down to kiss it tenderly.

“She is hungry and needs a nap.” Phoebe sighed contently as Jordan nuzzled into her softly, pushing up her top to expose her bare skin.

“Let me make some dinner, you rest.” He insisted, “we’ve got steaks and all of that good stuff marinating in the fridge, and I have some nuggets and fruit I can whip up for baby boy.” He explained, knowing she was planning on making dinner.

“I have no problem with that.” Phoebe shook her head softly. “I bought lots of good stuff for baby girl today.” She added, knowing Jordan wanted to know all about it. “I ordered the new crib and changing table, and I got a nice, comfy chair for the nursery, no more of this wooden rocking chair business.” She referred to the chair in their son’s nursery that was a gift from Jordan’s mother.

“Psh, you act like you spent eight hours a day in that death trap.” Jordan rolled his eyes. “I hope you ordered a double-wide Lay-Z-Boy.” He laughed. It was true; Jordan had logged several hundred hours in that horrible chair, because believe it or not, Jordan Staal was quite the baby whisperer. He could turn a finicky little boy on the verge of a tantrum into a sweet, sleepy baby in a matter of minutes.

“Potty.” Dylan announced, looking up at his father with those same entrancing blue eyes that Phoebe had fallen in love with three years ago, of course, they weren’t Jordan’s blue eyes, but a Staal’s nonetheless.

“Of course.” Jordan laughed, plucking up his little boy and pulling back the waistband of his baby Zooba’s, contorting his face in disgust and waving a hand in front of his nose. “We shall be back.” He announced before taking up the stairs. Phoebe sighed, resting her hands on her seven-month stomach and closing her eyes for what she thought was the briefest of moments.

She was shocked when Jordan gently shook her awake in time for dinner. He brought dinner out to her instead of making her get up and settle into a hard dining room chair, balancing Dylan on his lap as he fed him tiny bits of organic chicken nuggets and sliced strawberries.

“Mine?” Dylan would ask, looking down at his Daddy’s steak and mashed potatoes with a curious tilt of his head, reaching out his tiny hand to grip at the t-bone.

“No, this is Daddy’s, you eat your Dino nuggets.” Jordan instructed, making Dylan giggle wildly before raising his hands up into little claws and roaring at his Daddy.

“Ferocious.” Phoebe giggled as she watched her son gnaw on a piece of pineapple, running her hand over his wispy blonde hair that needed a cut, seeing as it was slowly growing into a baby-mullet. She declared she had never seen a baby with so much hair before the day she gave birth to Dylan who came out with a full head of blonde tufts that were impossibly soft, transfixing Jordan as he stroked them for the first time.

Seeing Jordan with a baby did all sorts of things for Phoebe, a side of him she had no idea existed until she revealed to him her pregnancy about three months after returning from their European honeymoon. He was so tender and treated her so delicately that anyone watching on would think she was made of porcelain – sans the times that Phoebe’s hormones were raging worse than a pubescent boy and she would beg him to throw her down on their shared bed and through the talents of his penis make her forget her own name for a few hours.

When Dylan had decided he was quite full from dinner he crawled over to his Mommy, placing his hands all over her tummy and pressing his nose right up to her tummy. “Hi.” He would squeak with a giggle, waiting for some kind of response patiently. “Baby.” He pointed to her stomach, looking back at his Daddy for confirmation, something he did often after burping or making a statement, seeking Jordan’s approval.

“You’re right, buddy, baby sister.” Jordan nodded with a smile. It was no secret that Jordan was thrilled to the high heavens that he would be having a baby girl soon enough. It was a whole new challenge and he found himself picturing their future as a family, a portrait of the American family, two blonde little babies, one boy, one girl and one incredibly proud father.

It was also a factor that Phoebe was the first girl in the Staal family, seeing that none of his brothers had yet to get married as well, and it was a huge familial production to know that soon there would be an actual Staal-blooded girl in the family. It had the whole family in a complete frenzy; counting down the days they’d be grandparents as well as a slew of apprehensive and excited uncles.

Phoebe was rather anxious to see how Jordan handled a little girl that wouldn’t be nearly as rough and tumble as Dylan. She loved buying little dresses and jumpers; especially the frilly stuff that would be for special occasions and holidays, seeing as she would be popping out sometime around Halloween and from then on it was an onslaught of holidays.

“Look who’s down for the count.” Jordan whispered, pulling Phoebe back to reality as she looked down to see Dylan out like a light, head resting on Phoebe’s tummy and butt high in the air as he sucked his thumb. “That cannot be comfortable.” He chuckled deeply. “I’ll go tuck him in and whatnot, can you put these in the dishwasher?” He asked, motioning to the three dirty plates and forks. Phoebe nodded and smiled as he got up, cradling Dylan in his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead before heading upstairs.

“Ungh!” Dylan awoke momentarily as Jordan changed his diaper and tucked him into a warm pair of pajamas.

“I know baby, shh, go back to sleep.” Jordan cooed, hugging the small boy to his chest and bouncing lightly as he made his way over to the crib, laying Dylan down on his tummy and folding his favorite yellow bumblebee blanket over his miniscule body.

“You are too good at that.” Phoebe smiled softly from the archway of the nursery that lead to a small subdivision of the room, something Dylan would love when he was a teenager.

“Now let’s see if I can get you to fall asleep that easily.” Jordan laughed quietly, leading her with his hand on the small of her back down the hall to their master bedroom.

Jordan slowly helped Phoebe disrobe, knowing she was much too tired to try and work her shirt over her head herself, much less attempt to find the button on her maternity jeans. Once she was nice and covered in a silky nightie that felt especially good on her skin (and Jordan’s) her husband slid in the bed beside her, snuggling right up behind her, tucking his chin on her shoulder.

“When is E coming up?” She asked softly, referring to Jordan’s older brother, whom she loved dearly.

“He’ll be here around one, I’ll still be at practice though, so don’t run away with him, okay?” He asked softly, kissing the back of her neck, grinning into her skin as she giggled femininely.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’d at least wait for you to go on long trip to do that. I mean, we’d need time to pack and whatnot.” She explained tenderly.

“How considerate.” Jordan rolled his eyes. “I knew you still loved him more than me.” He sighed dramatically.

“Oh hush, you’re horrible.” Phoebe shook her head, turning to face her husband. “You know you’re the only Staal for me.” She kissed the cleft of his chin softly.

“Mm, prove it.” Jordan grinned, pulling her body as tightly as he could to his, liking the exquisite feeling of his child growing between them.

“I would say it has something to do with this.” Phoebe flashed her timeless Tiffany ring to him. “Or maybe something with the baby we have sleeping down the hall, or the one sleeping between us.” She said smartly.

“Eh, I guess I’ll take your word for it.” He sighed, placing one of his hands on her tummy.

“But I do think it’s rather sexy when you get all worked up like that.” She grinned up at him.

“We met because you asked me if you thought you could get his number off of me.” He said pointedly, looking down at her with the same eyes he gave her son.

“You are so cute.” Phoebe humored him, reaching up to pinch his cheek lightly. “Quit being so jealous, baby.” She insisted before a big yawn took over her thoughts.

“Go to sleep, dream of me.” He demanded softly, wrapping her tightly in his arms.

“Always do.” She assured before drifting to sleep.

•••

“Hi, hi, hi!” Dylan giggled as he stomped his feet, flexing his fingers up at his Uncle Eric.

“Hey big man!” Eric grinned, swooping up his namesake into his arms and squeezing him tightly, kissing all over his face and laughing as Dylan puckered his own lips for a kiss. “And the beautiful Mrs. Staal.” Eric winked as Phoebe entered the room. She’d be lying if she didn’t put a little more effort into her appearance this morning, wearing a flattering top and spritzing her favorite perfume on her neck.

“Good to see you, Eric.” She smiled as he hugged her tightly.

“Oh wow, how much longer till my niece comes out?” He asked, placing his large hands on her distended tummy, feeling an active flutter between his fingertips.

“About two more months!” Phoebe replied with an excited smile, not believing it herself that in less than twelve weeks she’d finally be able to hold her baby girl.

“Damn.” He shook his head, “I brought some stuff.” He grinned. “Brianna and I went shopping yesterday and you know how she gets around baby clothes.” He laughed as he grabbed a handful of bags from the doorway, still keeping Dylan in his arms.

“Oh, Eric, you shouldn’t have. You know we already have more stuff than we’ll ever need.” She laughed as he handed her the bags nonetheless.

“I know, but there is some seriously cute shit in there.” He pointed out with a knowing look, making Dylan’s jaw drop and point up at his Uncle.

“Bad!” He squeaked with an accusatory finger up at Eric who dropped his jaw.

“Did I say a bad word?” He asked raising the small infant over his head, wiggling him from side to side, sending the tiny boy into a fit of giggles. “God this kid is Jordan.” He laughed. “Are you sure you had kids? Are you sure you didn’t just clone Jord?” He asked.

“Trust me, I’ve got the scars to prove it. Besides, there’s some me in there!” Phoebe put her hands on her hips. “Somewhere…” She trailed.

“I’m sorry, Pheeb, but this little boy is one-hundred percent Jordan.” Eric shook his head.

“Come on, come take a seat. Something to drink?” She asked, ushering him from the entryway into the family room.

“Water would be great.” He smiled charmingly before settling into the couch, Dylan playing with the cross necklace that hung around his neck.

“So how’s the team?” Phoebe asked, returning to the family room to see Eric pulling a Hurricane’s hoodie on over Dylan’s tiny t-shirt. “Oh, I should have known.” She shook her head with a laugh. Having the first nephew in the family, the Staal brothers were always bringing by their team paraphernalia for Dylan.

“The team is great.” He grinned. “No games for eight days.” He said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the ottoman. The two sat, shooting the breeze for an hour or so before moving the conversation to the kitchen so Phoebe could start making dinner.

“Daddy!” Dylan giggled, wiggling down from Eric’s arms when the front door opened.

“Hey baby boy.” Jordan’s voice could be heard. “Uh oh, Uncle Eric is here.” He said, obviously taking note of the new sweatshirt that Dylan was donning. “Hey big brother.” Jordan smiled, walking into the kitchen and going straight for a hug. Jordan always did love to see his brothers, no matter how long they had been apart. “Good to know my wife is still here.” He winked over Eric’s shoulder at Phoebe who blushed a violent pink.

“Oh cut it out.” Phoebe laughed as Jordan handed Dylan to her, liking the way he snuggled up to her, indicating that he would be ready for a nap soon enough. “I’m gonna go put him down.” Phoebe said, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“Hey, I got it.” Eric smiled, holding out his hands for his nephew. Phoebe shrugged, handing Dylan over to Eric, watching as he disappeared up the stairs.

“How was skate?” Phoebe asked as Jordan wrapped his arms around his wife.

“Same old, same old.” He shrugged. “How is the baby today?” He asked before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“She’s very active, ready to come out.” Phoebe sighed, knowing how badly she and Jordan wanted to hold their baby in their arms.

Eric returned a few moments later, a big grin on his face. “Out like a light.” He assured, leaning against the center island and taking a long gulp of his water.

“Why are you all smiles?” Jordan asked with a laugh, holding Phoebe to him softly.

“There’s something I gotta tell you guys.” He sucked in a deep breath. Jordan and Phoebe exchanged looks before he finally spit it out.

“Brianna’s pregnant.”