coffee run (j. torres x gn!reader)

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joaquín did his best. switching off your alarm, soothing the fussy baby, and padding around in his socks until the very last second. and yet, your circadian rhythm brings you out of your slumber.

at another time in your life, you might've been pissed to wake up at 7am, but nowadays it feels like a luxury.

across the room, he's fiddling with the baby wrap, a stretchy and twisting piece of fabric which had taken you almost twenty minutes to figure out together the first time. now an experienced pro, joaquín fiddles with her legs to make sure she's warm and snug against his chest.

your heart aches, watching him pull a mini knitted hat over her ears, sling the baby bag onto his shoulder, and shush her—he's really trying to be slick. "good morning."

joaquín turns toward you with wide eyes but relaxes when he sees your smile. "does it look right?" he whispers, adjusting the wide band of fabric around his waist.

"why are you, like..." you pat the empty side of your bed, urging him closer. "lowkey so sexy right now?"

"it's the sleep deprivation," he insists, kneeling by the edge. you scooch over to pat your baby's cute round butt, then tug at one of her dad's curls.

"i do like your messy hair." and his gravelly voice in the morning.

"your sleep deprivation," joaquín clarifies with a laugh. "clouding your judgment."

maybe, but you definitely want him. and you want him to stay, just a little longer, 'cause everything's finally quiet and perfect.

"can you make it so she's like this forever?" even as your baby falls asleep against his chest, she sticks out her arms, so you offer a pinky for her to grasp onto. "all chunky, and little, and sweet..."

"and poopy, and whiny," he continues flatly. in the darkness, a soft kiss lands on your knuckles. "go back to bed, cariño." joaquín frees you from her tiny grip. "when you wake up, we'll be back with coffee."

you press your face to the pillow. "and pan dulce?"

he chuckles before slipping out the door. "y pan dulce." 

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