Great Expectations [ A Niall Horan OU ]

drabble: the one with the giggles

Niall's not that great at avoiding things.

Whether it's for himself or not. He'd like to think he's good at it, but he knows he's not. He likes the satisfaction he gets from getting things done, from confronting issues and moving them out of his way.

But that's not the case today.

Because there's only one jar of baby food left in the pantry since he and Gia are going shopping after he gets home from his meeting. It's a new veggie, in a tiny little jar, almost as tiny as his little girl. The trouble is — it's not only the last jar, but it's the last flavor — one that his very picky, very adorable seven-month old daughter hasn't tried yet.

Every flavor she hasn't liked has resulted in angry tears and lots of spit up. Niall's got a meeting to go too after Gia gets home, so he can't afford an outfit change.

But now, as he's sitting on the couch with Isabella in his lap, he realizes he's running out of options. She's starting to get fussy, no longer interested in playing peek-a-boo or letting Niall kiss all over her chunky little arms and legs and tummy. The clock confirms it. It's lunch time.

"Alright, you're okay," Niall hums, lifting Isabella up. He balances her little feet on his thighs, big hands holding her up as he leans forward and kisses her cheek soothingly. "It's okay, baby. You're hungry aren't you?"

Isabella, who has come to babble profusely these past two weeks, lets out a string of them, clearly unsatisfied. Niall sighs and stands up, cradling her to his chest as he leads them into the kitchen. One look into those upset blue eyes and he's done for, all his hesitation forgotten.

Isabella leans her little head against his shoulder, a tiny fistful of his shirt gathered to hold onto him. She's a smart little girl and she knows what's coming. She's also at the stage where if he or Gia leaves the room, she cries bloody murder.

Niall presses his lips to the top of her soft brown hair, fixing her little top as he rounds into the kitchen. He grabs the booster chair they put her in during meals and Isabella immediately babbles in annoyance, turning her face to look over his shoulder and away from the offensive chair.

She's no better at avoiding things than he is.

Niall unlatches the table part of the booster chair with one hand, and then cups the back of Isabella's head with the other, trying to get her into the chair. Isabella lets out a fuss, and then another, and then she's crying fully and Niall's heart aches like it does every time he hears her upset. He's learned the hard way (with more carrot spit up than he'd like to recall) that if they don't put her in the chair, she won't eat at all. He rubs her back soothingly.

"I know," he murmurs, slowly but surely getting her into the chair. "Da's bein so mean to you, isn't he, baby? Promise I'm not leaving you." Isabella doesn't seemed swayed by his gentle assurances and she pounds her chubby little hands into the table part as Niall latches it into place.

She looks up at Niall with swimming eyes and an unimpressed, slightly betrayed look, big tears sliding down her chubby cheeks. Niall quickly wipes them away, kissing her nose, and then cupping both sides of her head and kissing the top of it. "Shhh, you're okay. Making a fuss because you just want to be close to me, huh Bella?"

Isabella cries in response and Niall sighs, stepping way from his daughter. "I'll be right back, baby."

He winces as her cries increase in volume as he hurries away to the pantry, grabbing her jar of food and a bib from the pile they keep in there. It has little duckies on it. Niall smiles at the pattern. 6 months of their house full of every baby object in the world and he still finds each one of them endearing.