Raising Isla | ENGLOT AU

Chapter 7: Saturdays spent with you

Emery had never been so excited to see a giraffe; Isla's sense of adventure as she ran on wobbly legs between the enclosures was infectious in a way Emery had never experienced before. Calypso tried to ask her to slow down. But the little girl wasn't listening.

It wasn't a date. Not exactly. But it was the closest they'd ever gotten, Emery realised, and it was probably going to be as much of a resemblance as they were going to get for a while with Isla, rightfully, taking up most of the spotlight.

There was a simplicity to being with them, Emery thought. Being with Calypso , while their attention wasn't so enthralled in the intricacies of what they were doing, that it became easy to just enjoy each other's company. The diversion of a infant, somehow, making her feel more comfortable and untroubled. 

She could still feel herself blushing occasionally. As Calypso's hand linked with hers when she forgot to stop herself from walking infinitesimally close beside her.

She wasn't sure why the contact painted her cheeks so pink, especially considering they'd been acquainted with each other in the most intimate and biblical sense for months now. She knew every mole on her body, every freckle, every mile of toned muscle, and she was pretty sure Calypso had traced the tips of her fingers along her flowers enough to be able to draw them by heart.

But this was in the open, out in public. And she found even the innocence Calypso's fingers making a home within her own caused her heart to skip in her chest.

Isla kept her pink-furred horse friend in her arms all day, Emery noted. Calypso later explaining, somberly, while Isla had been distracted by the meerkats, that she scarcely let Pinki Pie out of her sight. But that was understandable. Her teddy was her one sense of dependability, in a life that so far had not been.

...

They had just passed the penguins when Isla tripped.

Emery's eyes went wide as she watched it happen, her mouth letting out an involuntary 'fuck' without the sense to stop herself saying it. But Calypso grabbed her arm before she could move towards the child.

"Wait," She cautioned, her voice hushed. "Let her figure it out."

Emery didn't fight her, feeling Calypso's hand loosen around hers as she watched, her heart aching like it was some sort of betrayal, while Isla rose slowly to her feet. Brushing her hands down the front of her coat to dust herself off, before Emery noticed her looking at the palm of a pink scuffed hand. Swiveling back towards them, her eyes turning wet. But she didn't start wailing like Emery had half expected. 

"I learned a trick for this," Calypso explained to Emery quietly, as Isla wandered back over to her, watching anxiously as Calypso knelt in front of the three-year-old. "You okay?"

Isla shook her head, showing Calypso the reddened skin of her palm, speaking with little more than a sniff of distress. "Ouchie,"

A diffident smile returned to Emery's face as she observed Calypso pulling a pack of bandaids out of her coat pocket, pink, she noted.

She fished out one of the larger ones, pulling the seals off one by one as she carefully settled the bandaid against the marred skin. Isla's eyes seemed to clear immediately.

"Better?" Calypso asked, earning a delighted series of nods from Isla, who gave her a quick hug before running away again with complete disregard for what had gotten her into trouble in the first place.

It was embarrassing, really, the look on her face as Calypso turned back towards her, soft as melted marshmallows and just as warm on the inside. Though she was kind enough to make no comment on it.