Tiny Little Treasures

Just hold the hand and drop a knee

Chapter Text

What we anticipate seldom occurs; what we least expected generally happens.

--Benjamin Disraeli, Henrietta Temple, 1837

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Jack and the kits moved into the Warren as quickly as possible. Their basket was cleaned and put in Bunny's nest room. Jack slept in the nest with Bunny, and took a great deal of secret pleasure in doing so.

Over the next few weeks, Bunny filled Jack in on Pooka growth cycles. The kits would be hopping around within a month, he said. Apparently Pooka were quick to get moving, and within the year would be walking on two feet. Unsteadily, but walking. They'd age up to about the average human seven year old's size by about three years old. After that the process slowed significantly. It would take decades for them to reach maturity. When he said that he gave Jack a significant look, making sure Jack understood that he would be in it for the long haul. Jack's response was a straight stare. These were his eggies. He'd already accepted all the responsibilities that would come with that.

The Guardians were all brought around to meet the babies, and they cooed accordingly. (Jack would never admit that if they hadn't cooed he'd have been strangely offended for his kits.) The four that had latched onto Jack fell asleep and calmed easier whenever Jack was the one handling them, but Bunny and Peony had developed their own special relationship.

There were a few times where Jack would catch Bunny stroking her little ears as he held her on his lap, speaking to her gently. She always watched him with enraptured, adoring eyes. Meanwhile Clover, Sage, Jasper, and Ash hung all over Jack like he was a walking jungle gym. He had no fewer than two babies hanging off him at any time. They wrapped themselves over his shoulder and crawled along his legs. When he read to them each night before bed they piled themselves on him, listening as their soft ears twitched at the sound of his voice.

One night, Jack woke up to a sound he'd never heard. Soft singing drifted to him, and Jack blinked awake. By the bed Bunny cradled Clover in his arms, playing with his toes. By now the special egg claws had fallen off, and the retractable claws that took their place were still soft and weak. Bunny sang to the kit in a language Jack had never heard. The words were thick with vowels and sharp consonants, and it sounded beautiful coming from Bunny's mouth.

"What language was that?" he asked drowsily when Bunny put Clover back in the basket.

Bunny jumped in surprise. "What are you doing up?"

"I heard you singing." Jack yawned. "What language was that?" he repeated.

"Pookan." Bunny crawled into the nest beside Jack. The basket was kept to the left of the nest, and Jack typically slept on the right side.

"It was pretty." Jack sighed into a pillow "I liked it."

"My dam used to sing it to me," Bunny whispered.

He pet Jack's hair. "Go to sleep Frostbite."

Jack caught his hand, surprising Bunny. Jack brought his hand around to his face, rubbing his cheek into the pads of Bunny's palm. "Stay, Bunny?" He looked up at Bunny with glazed eyes.

"Of course." Bunny settled in, drawing the covers over himself. "Go to sleep."

"Mmm," Jack hummed. "Okay."

He closed his eyes, and fell asleep. He only vaguely remembered the event the next morning.

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