A New Way of Living

Chapter Thirty Two

Author's Note: I do not own West Side Story or any elements of it.

During the next two months, Vivienne spent all her time adoringly watch her baby discover the world around him. The Jets were surprisingly present and without even noticing, she began to think of it as their baby. 

They made good on their word, often stopping by to check in and bring supplies (even those she didn't ask for). Usually, they found themselves staying around, hypnotised by the strange pull that the baby had on them all.

Baby John, who already knew the baby well as this point, had a certain cockiness about him - a pride that came from having a leg up on them with at least one thing.

Ice was the most regular, often turning up and talking with Vivienne late into the night about Jet-related discussions, often asking her what she thought Riff would do about one thing or another, trying to gauge his advice through her. They often held meetings there in her kitchen, Ice would hold the baby as he talked, and barely noticed as the baby stared up intently at him, hanging on his every word.

When he did notice one night, he looked to Vivienne with a slight tone of worry.

"Hey," he said to her. "This kid is lookin' at me real hard. I don't want him thinkin' I'm his pop or nothin'. Maybe I shouldn't hold him so much."

"I really don't think he can tell the difference," Vivienne shrugged. "He just likes the sound of your voice, I guess."

Ice looked down at him, thought about it, and nodded. "Okay. But if he starts callin' me 'Dad', we got a problem."

Other times, the Jets would come alone, stopping by when they were in the neighbourhood (Although Vivienne wasn't sure how many times this was just an excuse.) 

She watched as they each grew to attach themselves to the baby in their own ways, surprised by just how taken they became and how smoothly they adjusted to being, what was essentially, the world's biggest group of babysitters.

Mouthpiece had finally found someone who he could spill his guts to — someone who he knew couldn't repeat what he said. She often overhead him rambling and ranting to the baby, who usually just blinked back at him in return. The first time the baby gurgled in response, Mouthpiece looked like he could burst from amusement.

Big Deal, who was surprisingly paternal and knowledgeable, would hold the baby across his one arm as he walked and talked to the other Jets, gently rocking him and perfectly able to do a task with his other free hand at the same time.

Diesel once came by, and after sitting on the couch for barely a few minutes Vivienne had fallen asleep, rocked by tiredness from sleepless nights. When she woke up, both Diesel and the baby were gone. Panicked, she ran outside to see Diesel with the hood of his car popped open, a wrench in one hand whilst the baby sat in the crook of his other arm. 

"These right 'ere, these are spark plugs. These are what's causin' us a problem, so we're--"

"What the hell are you doing?" she exclaimed when she reached them. "I woke up and you weren't there."

"Well you were asleep and he started cryin'," Diesel explained, somewhat defensively. "He was bein' a real asshole so I took him outside so I would work on the car, and he calmed down. He seems to like listenin' about it."

"Oh," Vivienne exhaled. "Well...do you want me to take him back up?"

"No," Diesel scoffed. "Lemme teach him a thing or two first, geez. You can finish your nap if you want."

"Okay. Thanks."

Vivienne walked back, throwing a glance back towards them and smiling as she watched Diesel chat away to someone who couldn't understand a word of what he was saying. Perhaps he was enjoying it more than the baby.