Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

Cribs •|| WINTUMN ||•

[A/N: I have not watched the new videos for a WHILE so I have no idea what's going on with the current Wintumn pregnancy, but I think it'll be cute if they have twins. :)]

Prompt: Autumn and Winter decide to put their babies' cribs together themselves.

Autumn leaned against the nursery doorframe, her hands resting on her growing belly, watching as Winter struggled to unfold the instruction manual. She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’ve got this, my sweet? I’d hate for you to fall apart halfway through, just like that poor excuse of a crib you’re about to build.”

Winter looked up, feigning indignation. “Excuse me, my love, but I have built IKEA furniture before. This crib is nothing.”

Autumn smirked. “You left an IKEA shelf with three leftover pieces and insisted they were ‘extras.’”

“They were extras,” Winter shot back, snapping the booklet into place. “Anyway, the real question is, why are you just standing there? Two cribs don’t build themselves, and we’ve got twins on the way.”

“I’m supervising,” Autumn said, brushing her hair off her face. “Pregnant lady privileges. Besides, I’ll finish mine before you even figure out which side is up.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Winter asked, grabbing a screwdriver and grinning.

“It’s always a challenge,” she replied, waddling over to her designated pile of wood and screws.

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

For the first ten minutes, they worked in relative silence, punctuated only by Winter’s muttered curses as he struggled to identify parts. Autumn, sitting cross-legged on the floor, hummed to herself while assembling the base of her crib with alarming speed.

“You know,” Winter said, glancing over at her progress, “you’re unnervingly good at this. Have you been holding secret ‘crib assembly’ workshops while I wrangle the kids at work?”

Autumn smirked, not looking up. “Nope. I just have the raw talent that comes from being the deputy manager. It’s called delegation. You should try it sometime.”

“Oh, delegation, huh?” Winter replied, raising an eyebrow. “So basically, you boss me and everyone else around all day while sharpening your crib-building instincts in secret?”

“Exactly.” She snorted. “And if you don’t finish Step Two soon, I’ll delegate this whole project to Reece.”

Winter leaned closer to his instruction manual, squinting. “Step Two is overrated.”

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

An hour passed, and the results were… concerning.

Winter stood over his creation, arms crossed, staring at the single leg of the crib sticking straight up into the air. "Okay, this doesn’t look like the picture.”

Autumn, meanwhile, had assembled something that vaguely resembled a modern art sculpture. The headboard was attached upside down, and one side wobbled precariously when she tapped it. She stared at it, her hands on her hips. “Well… it’s sturdy-ish.”

Winter squatted beside her and poked the frame. It creaked ominously. “That’s not the word I’d use.”

She shot him a glare. “Yours looks like a deer on stilts.”

Winter laughed, holding up his hands. “Fair. But honestly, what kind of sadist designs furniture like this? We’re about to be parents to twins, and this is how we’re spending our last moments of peace?”

Autumn rubbed her back, grimacing as she lowered herself to the floor. “Last moments of peace? If we don’t figure this out, these babies are sleeping in dresser drawers.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Winter muttered. “Dresser drawers seem way easier than this.”

They both burst out laughing, their frustration melting into shared amusement. Winter flopped down beside her, tossing the screwdriver aside. “Okay, truce. Let’s call Reece. He’s good at this kind of thing, right?”

Autumn rolled her eyes. “He’ll never let me live it down. But fine. You’re calling him, though.”

Winter pulled out his phone, still chuckling. “Deal. But let’s never tell the twins about this, okay? I don’t want them thinking their dads are incompetent.”

“Dads?” Autumn asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m the mom here. You’re the one who can’t tell a Phillips head from a flathead.”

“Details,” Winter said breezily. “Just details.”

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

By the time Reece arrived, armed with his toolbox and far too much enthusiasm, Autumn and Winter had set up camp on the nursery floor with snacks and juice boxes like overgrown children.

“What the hell is this?” Reece asked, surveying the chaos of wood planks and screws.

“Modern art,” Winter deadpanned. “Or a metaphor for parenting. Take your pick.”

Reece shook his head, cracking his knuckles. “Step aside, amateurs. Uncle Reece is here to save the day.”

An hour later, the cribs were assembled perfectly, and Reece was leaning smugly against the wall. “See? Easy. You two should be thanking me.”

“Oh, we are,” Autumn said sweetly, handing him an empty juice box. “You can start by taking the trash out.”

As Reece groaned and grabbed the pile of cardboard, Winter leaned over to Autumn and whispered, “So, when are we going to tell him we’re making him babysit on date nights?”

She grinned. “Let’s save that for the baby shower.”

Winter smirked, draping an arm over her shoulder as they admired the now-perfect nursery. Sure, they weren’t master builders, but they were a team—and that was all that mattered.

[A/N: Just a quick and sweet one shot. I think I'll add more tonight because insomnia is being a biatch. Oh, also, I am NEVER going on a field trip with my class EVER again. I was stuck babying overgrown children.]