[Fic] Bringing Up Baby
Jul. 5th, 2009 10:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: Bringing Up Baby
Fandom: Burn Notice
Characters: Fiona Glennane, Michael and Sam on phone cameo
Word Count: 872
Rating: PG
Summary: Fiona takes her baby for a day at work.
A/N: Inspired by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanficrants
The three of them liked to believe they learned something from Victor, but the truth as Fiona saw it was that no matter how many plans you made, there was always the possibility that someone out there had made a better plan. Which led to the two-fold and somewhat uncomfortable for Michael effect that she was both a little more paranoid and a little more possessive. Determined to have at least one of the three of them with the child at all times, this sometimes meant that the baby went with them on stakeouts. On recon missions. And in her case, on the prep-work for their latest case.
It was safer, she told him, than leaving the baby at home with Madeleine. Michael took one look at her thin-lipped expression and didn't even open his mouth. He and Sam would be going and talking to the men with guns anyway.
"Really, there's more subtlety to it than you would think," she told him, cradling his head in her hand as she pressed the duct tape to the piping. "You have to make sure the explosion is just big enough for the purpose. Say, in this case, you want to make someone think the person in the car is dead."
Alan found this fascinating, by the wide-eyes and the way he grabbed for the cords she was carrying.
"No," she held it out of his reach, straightening up. "You can't have that, you're still too young. When you're old enough to name and identify all the parts of a car bomb, then you can play with Mommy's toys."
Alan laughed, delighted by the idea, or so she fondly thought.
"Anyway," she moved over to the other side of the car, reaching under the hood. "In this case, we want to make sure the person in the car is dead. So we want to make sure the explosion is hot enough to melt everything in the car. 'Everything?'" she asked, not above the baby talk, tucking her clean finger into the baby's grasping hand. "Yes, everything in the car! Everything we possibly can. And that means we have to be careful about the kind of explosives we use. We want it to be very hot, but not very big. So we'll be adding a little accelerant into the mix."
The pre-prepared mix. She'd had to adapt while she was pregnant, since having their boy. Not everything she worked with was safe for infants. She'd had to talk Sam and Michael through more explosive recipes than she could conveniently count, and now that she was carrying baby Alan around in the carrier she kept one hand free and clean to be able to touch him with. To let him suck on her fingers with his tiny mouth. He did like to suck on her fingers, grab them, grab anything he could put in his mouth. She had to be careful with that, too.
"Well, I think we've got that about set up," she moved to wipe her hand on her trousers, remembered just in time to go back to the car and grab a couple of wet wipes to clean her hand with instead. "Is it feeding time? Is that why you're all over my fingers?" Alan gurgled. She took that for agreement.
Back to the car for that, which was a block and a half away, just to be sure. Back to the car, a blanket over the baby's head to protect him from the sun, of which he'd had quite enough today. Taking him out of the carrier on her chest, hiking up her top and down her bra and damn but these things were inconvenient. There, now. She reached her other hand into her pocket for her cell phone; might as well call them and see if they were done, too. "Michael..."
He picked up. "Fi?"
"It's done. We're in the car now, we're ready for you, Alan's having his lunch..." and was waving a tiny fist at the cell phone, so she took it away from her ear for a moment and the boy away from his meal. "There you go, Alan. Say hi to Daddy..."
Even through the phone, she could hear Michael chuckling. "Put your mother back on, kiddo."
"Are you ready?"
"We'll be there in two hours. You can meet us at the intersection, pass Alan on to Sam, okay?"
"Does he have the bag?" she asked at the same time as Sam called, probably in Michael's ear. "I have his diaper bag, Fi, don't worry."
"And the ..."
"And the gun bag."
"And you'll..."
"I'll keep him out of the sun, Fi, you're feeding him, so, uh. I don't have to. He'll be fine." Michael, evidently getting tired of being the go-between, had passed the phone over to Sam. "We'll meet you at the intersection, we're on our way there now."
"All right, then... I think he wants his lunch back..."
"Oh god," Sam muttered, and hung up.
Fiona put Alan back to her breast, making a playful pseudo-shocked expression. "Do you know," she told him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Sam hadn't ever seen a woman's breast before. Can you imagine?"
Fandom: Burn Notice
Characters: Fiona Glennane, Michael and Sam on phone cameo
Word Count: 872
Rating: PG
Summary: Fiona takes her baby for a day at work.
A/N: Inspired by
fanficrantsThe three of them liked to believe they learned something from Victor, but the truth as Fiona saw it was that no matter how many plans you made, there was always the possibility that someone out there had made a better plan. Which led to the two-fold and somewhat uncomfortable for Michael effect that she was both a little more paranoid and a little more possessive. Determined to have at least one of the three of them with the child at all times, this sometimes meant that the baby went with them on stakeouts. On recon missions. And in her case, on the prep-work for their latest case.
It was safer, she told him, than leaving the baby at home with Madeleine. Michael took one look at her thin-lipped expression and didn't even open his mouth. He and Sam would be going and talking to the men with guns anyway.
"Really, there's more subtlety to it than you would think," she told him, cradling his head in her hand as she pressed the duct tape to the piping. "You have to make sure the explosion is just big enough for the purpose. Say, in this case, you want to make someone think the person in the car is dead."
Alan found this fascinating, by the wide-eyes and the way he grabbed for the cords she was carrying.
"No," she held it out of his reach, straightening up. "You can't have that, you're still too young. When you're old enough to name and identify all the parts of a car bomb, then you can play with Mommy's toys."
Alan laughed, delighted by the idea, or so she fondly thought.
"Anyway," she moved over to the other side of the car, reaching under the hood. "In this case, we want to make sure the person in the car is dead. So we want to make sure the explosion is hot enough to melt everything in the car. 'Everything?'" she asked, not above the baby talk, tucking her clean finger into the baby's grasping hand. "Yes, everything in the car! Everything we possibly can. And that means we have to be careful about the kind of explosives we use. We want it to be very hot, but not very big. So we'll be adding a little accelerant into the mix."
The pre-prepared mix. She'd had to adapt while she was pregnant, since having their boy. Not everything she worked with was safe for infants. She'd had to talk Sam and Michael through more explosive recipes than she could conveniently count, and now that she was carrying baby Alan around in the carrier she kept one hand free and clean to be able to touch him with. To let him suck on her fingers with his tiny mouth. He did like to suck on her fingers, grab them, grab anything he could put in his mouth. She had to be careful with that, too.
"Well, I think we've got that about set up," she moved to wipe her hand on her trousers, remembered just in time to go back to the car and grab a couple of wet wipes to clean her hand with instead. "Is it feeding time? Is that why you're all over my fingers?" Alan gurgled. She took that for agreement.
Back to the car for that, which was a block and a half away, just to be sure. Back to the car, a blanket over the baby's head to protect him from the sun, of which he'd had quite enough today. Taking him out of the carrier on her chest, hiking up her top and down her bra and damn but these things were inconvenient. There, now. She reached her other hand into her pocket for her cell phone; might as well call them and see if they were done, too. "Michael..."
He picked up. "Fi?"
"It's done. We're in the car now, we're ready for you, Alan's having his lunch..." and was waving a tiny fist at the cell phone, so she took it away from her ear for a moment and the boy away from his meal. "There you go, Alan. Say hi to Daddy..."
Even through the phone, she could hear Michael chuckling. "Put your mother back on, kiddo."
"Are you ready?"
"We'll be there in two hours. You can meet us at the intersection, pass Alan on to Sam, okay?"
"Does he have the bag?" she asked at the same time as Sam called, probably in Michael's ear. "I have his diaper bag, Fi, don't worry."
"And the ..."
"And the gun bag."
"And you'll..."
"I'll keep him out of the sun, Fi, you're feeding him, so, uh. I don't have to. He'll be fine." Michael, evidently getting tired of being the go-between, had passed the phone over to Sam. "We'll meet you at the intersection, we're on our way there now."
"All right, then... I think he wants his lunch back..."
"Oh god," Sam muttered, and hung up.
Fiona put Alan back to her breast, making a playful pseudo-shocked expression. "Do you know," she told him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Sam hadn't ever seen a woman's breast before. Can you imagine?"