Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

Are you sure?... •|| MARJORIE + QUINN ||•

Prompt: Sorcha and Clodagh ask Marjorie to babysit Quinn.

Marjorie stared down at the tiny baby in her arms, her heart thudding as Quinn cooed softly. Clodagh and Sorcha had just left for their much-needed date night, and Marjorie was suddenly acutely aware of how out of practice she was with babies.

"Okay, little darling," she murmured, adjusting Quinn in her arms. "It’s just you and me. How hard can it be?"

Quinn looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, as if silently challenging her.

The first challenge came almost immediately. Quinn’s face scrunched up, and a wail began to build. Marjorie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh no, no, no! What’s wrong? Are you hungry? Tired? Do you miss your moms already?”

She quickly shuffled to the diaper bag Sorcha had left on the couch, pulling out a bottle. After testing the temperature, she offered it to Quinn, who latched on eagerly. Marjorie let out a breath of relief.

“Crisis averted,” she muttered, settling into the rocking chair Clodagh had set up in the corner of the living room.

For a while, everything was peaceful. Quinn drank her bottle contentedly, her tiny hands occasionally batting at Marjorie’s fingers.

“You’re quite the little charmer, aren’t you?” Marjorie said softly, smiling down at her. “I see why your moms adore you so much.”

Once Quinn finished her bottle, Marjorie attempted to burp her. This led to the second challenge of the night.

“Come on, darling, just a little burp,” Marjorie coaxed, gently patting Quinn’s back. After several minutes of no success, she sighed. “You’re stubborn, just like your moms.”

As if in response, Quinn let out a loud burp, followed by a stream of spit-up that landed squarely on Marjorie’s sweater.

“Oh, lovely,” Marjorie said with a laugh, grabbing a burp cloth to clean herself up. “That’s quite the introduction to babysitting, isn’t it?”

The evening continued with a mix of calm moments and minor chaos. Quinn decided she didn’t want to nap, so Marjorie spent a solid twenty minutes walking around the living room, rocking her and humming lullabies. When that didn’t work, she resorted to reading aloud from one of Clodagh’s cookbooks, which, to her surprise, seemed to do the trick.

By the time Sorcha and Clodagh returned, Marjorie was sitting on the couch, holding a peacefully sleeping Quinn in her arms.

“How’d it go?” Clodagh asked in a hushed voice, leaning over to check on her daughter.

Marjorie gave her a tired but proud smile. “No major disasters. She’s a delight, though she does have quite the set of lungs on her.”

Sorcha chuckled. “Yeah, she gets that from Clodagh.”

“Hey!” Clodagh protested, though her grin gave her away.

Marjorie carefully handed Quinn over to Sorcha, who cradled her daughter with practiced ease. “Thank you, Marjorie. We really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure,” Marjorie said sincerely, though she glanced down at the spit-up stain on her sweater with a wry smile. “Even if she did leave me a little souvenir.”

Clodagh laughed. “Welcome to the club.”

As Marjorie gathered her things and prepared to leave, she felt a sense of accomplishment. It had been years since she’d cared for a baby, but tonight reminded her of how much she loved it—even the messy parts.

“Goodnight, little Quinn,” she whispered as she stepped out the door, her heart full.