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Hello, little one!

Summary:

Joe is glad that the breakfast only consists of eggs because he can eat it using only his left hand, while he doesn’t let go of Nicky's. Joe insists on doing the dishes while Nicky goes to take a shower. He can hear him singing from the bathroom and he instinctively smiles. He likes hearing Nicky happy.
Neither he nor Nicky are particularly religious, but that morning Joe finds himself closing his eyes and silently praying to a nameless God.
Please, please, let this be the day. Let it be our new beginning.

~~~

Joe and Nicky are ready to add a new member to their family.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Hello, little one

 

 

 

When Joe wakes up, he finds the bed next to him empty. He can still see the shape of Nicky’s head on the pillow and the sheet where he laid is still warm, which means he didn’t wake up much earlier. He gives a quick look at the clock on his nightstand, groans loudly and reluctantly leaves the bed.

As expected, Nicky is in the kitchen. Cooking. Joe smiles and reaches him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing him on the corner of his jaw.

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmurs, resting his chin on his broad shoulder.

“Good morning, my love,” Nicky answers, flipping the omelette. Joe shivers as he tightens the grip around the other’s body: we will never get used to the casualness of Nicky’s display of affection. “Did I wake you up? I wanted to bring you breakfast to bed.”

“Why so? It’s not my birthday, nor our anniversary.”

“A man cannot spoil his husband?” Nicky asks, with a smirk on his lips.

Joe cannot resist those lips and he steals a quick kiss. “I love being spoiled.” He takes the fruit juice from the fridge and sits at the table, soon joined by Nicky.

“Are you nervous?” Joe asks.

“No, no, I’m-” He stops. “Okay, maybe I’m a little bit nervous. I know it’s stupid but-”

“It is not.” Joe reaches out to grab Nicky’s hand. “Besides, I’m a little nervous too.”

Joe is glad that the breakfast only consists of eggs, because he can eat it using only his left hand, while he doesn’t let go of Nicky's. Joe insists on doing the dishes while Nicky goes to take a shower. He can hear him singing from the bathroom and he instinctively smiles. He likes hearing Nicky happy.

Neither he nor Nicky are particularly religious, but that morning Joe finds himself closing his eyes and silently praying to a nameless God.

Please, please, let this be the day. Let it be our new beginning.

 

They know the corridor way too well. They have waited sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs way too many times, with their documents well organized in colourful dossiers, with their heads full of hope and dreams. Joe has stopped counting the times they left the office at the end of the corridor holding the tears, waiting to be in their car again to let the feelings flow.

A woman opens the door of the well-known office: “Monsieur al-Kaysani and Monsieur Di Genova?” she asks, looking at them. Joe squeezes Nicky’s hand one last time and they stand up, leaving the uncomfortable chairs and reaching the woman. “Nice to meet you, I am Nile Freeman. I will be following your case.”

“What happened to Marie Laure?” Joe asks. Not that he cares. Marie Laure has always been - to quote Nicky - not nice to them and - to quote Andy - a racist homophobic heartless bitch

Madame Freeman looks hesitant as she says: “She... umh... has been suspended. I’m afraid I cannot go into detail. But I hope we will get along.”

For sure it cannot be worse than Marie Laure, Joe thinks. Actually, this Freeman seems like a nice woman and Joe has a good feeling. “Madame Freeman-”

“Nile. Please, call me Nile.”

“Sure, Nile, only if you call me Joe.”

“Short for Youssef?” she asks.

“Yusuf. And this is my unusually quiet husband Nicky.”

“Nicola?” she asks.

“Nicolò,” he says, pronouncing the first word since they left the car, half an hour before. “Nice to meet you, Ma- Nile.”

Nile opened their dossier and read it quickly: “So, Joe, I see you are Dutch.”

“Yes, I moved to France to study at the Sorbonne fifteen years ago. After finishing University, I stayed here. Paris offers a lot of opportunities.”

“You are very young for being an associate professor, you are only thirty-six.”

Joe hesitates, not knowing what to answer, but Nicky fills his silence saying: “He’s clever and talented. And hardworking.”

“And you Nicky, you moved from Italy thirteen years ago. Since then, you have worked as a waiter in three restaurants, a barman in two places, in an ice cream shop and finally in a bakery before opening your own. These are... many jobs.”

“I know, I-” Nicky hesitates, his nervousness prevailing on his usual calm attitude. Joe squeezes his knee under the desk. He knows why Nicky is nervous. Marie Laure, that bitch, has always underlined Nicky’s past jobs as a clear sign of economic instability, even though his bakery has now been open for five years and going well. “I changed many jobs but now my shop is stable and-” When he’s nervous, his accent becomes thicker.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to sound judgmental. I see that your activity is going well, financially. I bet your products are delicious.”

Nile’s kind voice has the effect of calming Nicky, who smiles and adds: “They are. If you pass by, feel free to come in for a taste.”

“I’ll remember next time.” She keeps skimming through their files and continues: “You got married ten years ago. You were pretty young,” she says.

“We met soon after Nicky moved to Paris. He was the barman at my favourite café. He kept putting extra cream in my coffee and I knew he was the one,” Joe says. “After three years, we decided that there was no point in waiting and we tied the knot.”

“And your families support you?”

“My family is basically non-religious and they have always supported me,” Joe says.

“My family hasn’t always been the most open-minded,” Nicky admits “but they changed a lot in these ten years, and now they accepted me and Joe.”

Nile smiles warmly: “I’m glad to hear that. I also see a letter of reference from your friend, Monsieur Lelivre.”

Nicky continues: “Yes, Boo-, I mean, Sebastien lost his wife three years ago. Since then, we have often helped him with his sons. We are some sort of uncles for them, as Sebastian is like a brother to us.”

Nile closes the dossier, and Joe spies their name on the cover, written with neat writing: al-Kaysani-Di Genova. For a moment, he gets lost thinking of their surnames mixed: al-Kaysani-Di Genova. Di Genova-al-Kaysani. Kaysanova, as Booker likes to call them.

“You first tried to get an adoption three years ago. Why then?”

“We were financially stable, with my contract being confirmed and Nicky’s shop going well. We decided we wanted someone else in our life. That we wanted to be fathers.”

“I see that you said you have no preference on the race of the baby,” Nile says.

They look at each other. They have discussed it so many times, they have read so many books. Finally, Joe takes courage to speak: “Saying that we have no preference would be inaccurate. We have read about the difficulties of transracial adoptees, and we are ready to take all the steps needed to welcome the child. We live in a very diverse neighbourhood and we have friends from different backgrounds. Of course, it would be easier for us to raise a white or north African child, but we don’t want to exclude other possibilities.”

“I see,” she murmurs. “Well, this makes everything easier.” She takes another dossier and Joe peeks at the name written on it and his heart misses a beat. ‘Soumaya’. Nile picks a picture from the dossier and places it in front of them. “One month ago, she was left in front of a hospital. The mother left her with a note. Her name is-”

“Soumaya,” Joe murmurs, that name already dear on his lips. 

Nile nods: “I think you would be the perfect couple to raise her. You are stable, both financially and emotionally, you would be able to raise her in a loving family, respecting her origins. So, what do you think?”

Joe turns to Nicky, instinctively, but even before reading it in his husband’s eyes, he already knows the answer. “When can we meet her?”

This time, they cannot hold the tears until they reach the car. This time, they are tears of joy.

 

Nicky hears Joe’s voice as far away, barely listening to what he’s telling Nile. All his attention is focused on the baby, who is quietly sleeping in the crib. The beat of his heart is so loud in his head that everything seems to disappear.

“She’s Soumaya,” Nile says, pointing at the baby.

“She is-”

“Beautiful,” Nicky says. He cannot even think of picking her up, too scared of waking up only to find out that it has been a dream.

“She looks so small.” Joe’s voice cannot hide his concern. And Nicky notices it as well.

“She was underweight when she was found at the hospital. Now she’s fine, she’s very hungry and very lively, but she still has to regain some weight.”

“I think Nicky is the right person here.” Joe’s laughter fills his ears and Nicky quickly adds:

“I would never overfeed her. I would follow the regime suggested by the paediatrician!”

Nile joins Joe with her laughter: “I don’t doubt it, Nicky. But she could use some spoiling. She had a very difficult beginning.”

“Oh, we will spoil her for sure.”

Nicky shivers. Joe used the future, as if he was sure that the baby will become their daughter. But Nicky has always been very superstitious - a trait that he took from his grandmother - and he still doesn’t dare hope. They have been deluded too many times, and he cannot- he cannot bear another rejection.

He keeps staring at the baby and reaches out his hand, touching her feet lightly. At that moment, she opens her eyes, lazily, and stares at Nicky. She has hazel eyes, of a delightful shade, and Nicky feels his heart exploding in his chest.

She is the one, he thinks. She is our daughter.

“Do you want to hold her?” Nile asks.

Nicky looks for Joe’s eyes, with a silent question. Joe smiles at him and says: “Come on, don’t be shy.”

He finally dares to pick her up, holding her tight. She’s so light, compared to Jean Pierre, so fragile. The baby initiates what looks like a tantrum, but as soon as Nicky positions her more comfortably, she calms down. She looks at Nicky and then at Joe with her soulful eyes and then she rests her head against Nicky’s chest.

I don’t want to ever let her go, Nicky thinks, and he knows that it is crazy, he knows that he shouldn’t hope, he shouldn’t dare.

“How does it feel?” Joe asks.

“Perfect.” He moves closer to Joe, who bends to be at the baby’s height. He tries to caress her small hand with the tip of his finger but once he gets close, she grips to his index tightly.

“Hello, little one,” Joe murmurs, using the baby voice he reserved for Booker’s kids. “Nice to meet you.”

“She likes you,” Nicky jokes.

One day, Nicky thinks, one day she will call me papà and she will call Joe baba. She will run in our apartment, she will fill the house with her laughter, she will brighten our days, every day.

Nicky looks at her, and he sees all the beautiful things that will come. But not only. He sees the nights that they will spend trying to make her sleep, the difficulties of raising a girl as a gay couple, all the problems that they will have to face. And he accepts them. If those are the price to raise her, it will be worth it.

Joe notices his distant eyes and asks: “What are you seeing?”

He doesn’t hesitate when he answers: “Our future.”

 

The sound of light steps running on the floor reaches Joe’s ear, and as he’s about to say something, Nicky is quicker than him: “Soumaya al-Kaysani Di Genova, come back here!”

He hears the steps coming closer and soon after the little girl irrupts in his studio, bursting in a loud laugh, followed immediately by a distressed Nicky, who catches her. She’s wearing only a t-shirt - the cute t-shirt with a smiley cactus that Nile got for her third birthday - and she is evidently missing the bottom part of her outfit, that Joe spots in Nicky’s hands.

“Baba, look! Cactus!” she says, pointing at her shirt proudly.

Joe puts down the pen and for a moment he forgets the exams he was marking. “Ah, I see, little one. It’s a very pretty cactus. Is my little cactus making papà angry?”

“No!” she shouts. 

“This little cactus is making papà run around the house,” Nicky says, kissing her on the neck that makes her laugh. “Come on, Soumaya, let’s leave baba alone. He has to finish working so we can leave.”

“I can finish these tomorrow,” Joe says. “Do you need any help with her?”

“I think I can manage this little tornado,” he says, laughing. He gives a quick look at the clock on the wall and adds: “Shall we leave in forty minutes?”

“Sounds good,” Joe says and as Nicky comes closer, he steals a quick kiss, before he and Soumaya leave his studio. Joe smiles at them, listening to their playful voices as Nicky tries to convince her that she needs to wear her pants if she wants to go out.

Sometimes he cannot believe how lucky he is.

 

The door opens and they are welcomed by Jean Pierre, dressed as a pirate and wearing a paper crown and with a pair of old-fashioned moustaches drawn on his face. His attention is immediately caught by the huge present that Soumaya is holding.

“Happy Birthday, Jean Pierre!” Joe says, “Nice crown!”

“I’m the king of the pirates!” is his answer. Booker appears behind him, looking as distressed as a single dad that is organizing a party for a seven-year-old boy can look. 

“Thank God you are here,” he says. “Jean Pierre, let the uncles and Soumaya in.” They move from the door and Soumaya proudly hands him his present.

“This is from me,” she says. And then adds: “And from baba and papà.”

“Jean Pierre, what do we say to Soumaya?” Then Booker kneels to be at the little girl’s height and adds: “Auntie Nile is in the other room. Do you also want nice makeup like Jean Pierre?”

The little girl looks at her parents and when they nod, she runs away, disappearing in the other room, followed by Jean Pierre.

“Already tired?” Nicky asks.

“Am I a bad dad if I can’t wait for the party to be over?” Booker asks.

“No, you are only a normal single dad taking care of three sons. But that’s why we are here,” Joe says. “We bought the food, as promised.”

Booker looks visibly relieved: “Oh, thank you!” He gives a quick look at the trays that Nicky is carrying and that look very heavy. “That’s too much food, Nicky!”

“Hush, there’s no such thing as too much food,” he says. “Here, there is some pizza with different toppings, a bowl of pasta and one of couscous. I kept the halal food separated. I also prepared some for the celiac kids and these are without cheese for the lactose intolerants. Ha! I also brought something more elaborate for the parents.”

“Nicky! I cannot- come on, this time you have to let me pay,” Booker insists, but Nicky dismisses him, waving his hands.

Joe laughs: “Don’t waste your time, Booker, he will never accept money from you.” Then he looks around, admiring the house with all the colourful decorations for the party, which is clearly pirate-themed. “Did you do everything by yourself?”

“No, Louis and François helped me. Jean Pierre also wanted to help, but he was too excited to actually be useful to his brothers.” The two boys are sitting on the couch, playing with the PlayStation while waiting for the other guests to arrive. “I really don’t know what I would do without them.”

“They grew up so fast,” Nicky says. “I remember when I held François for the first time after you came home from the hospital. It’s crazy to think that ten years have already passed.”

“Kids grow fast and we get old even faster,” Booker says.

“Don’t let Andy hear you or she’ll punch you in the stomach.”

“I swear, Andy and Quynh seem immortal! How old are they? Are they in their 40s or already in their 50s? Was it last year that they went hiking in the Andes?”

“I think not even death could stop them,” Joe laughs. At that moment they hear the bell: “Speaking of the devil.”

Quynh and Andy arrive with a present that is definitely bike-shaped, and Jean Pierre cannot hide his excitement. Soumaya comes back with a pirate hat that is pushed on her little head, fighting against her untamable curls. Nile is right behind her.

“Baba, papà, look! I’m a pirate too!”

“Ah, I see!” Nicky says. “Nice moustaches!” he says, admiring her pair of moustaches.

Nile adds: “She wanted the make-up - and I quote - just like Jean Pierre.”

“Remind me to take some pictures. She looks adorable,” Joe says. “How are you, Nile?”

She looks tired, despite the smile on her lips. “I’m fine. The job is often exhausting but it has its perks. Even though I don’t end up befriending all the adoptive parents that I follow.”

“Aww, Nile, are you telling us that we are special?” he asks. Nile kisses his cheek and says:

“Of course you are.”

Andy and Quynh soon join the conversation, asking Joe about his job and Nicky about his bakery. Joe starts talking about the exams and his latest class, debating whether he should diversify the program more the next year. And while he speaks, he keeps looking at Nicky. Nicky, who listens to him and at the same time follows Soumaya with his gaze while she runs after Jean Pierre with her fake paper sword.

When Andy starts talking about her class and the exams, Joe reaches out his hand and touches Nicky’s arm, protectively.

Don’t worry for her,” he says in Italian. “She’ll be fine.

She’s so small,” he answers. “I’m always scared she will get hurt.

If she falls, we will help her stand up. If she cries, we will comfort her. She has two great fathers, a bunch of protective aunties and a very stressed uncle. She’ll never be alone.

Nicky finally smiles: “You are right.”

“I’m always right,” he replies, gaining a playful slap on the arm. Joe looks at Soumaya, who at that moment is sitting next to Louis, mesmerized by Mario Kart on the tv. He knows it for sure: she will be fine.

 

Nicky struggles to open the door with his free hand while carrying the empty trays with the other. Joe closes his hand protectively on Soumaya’s little head, brushing his thumb on her curls, holding her close to his chest as she sleeps. After the party, she was so tired that as soon as Joe picked her up, she fell asleep. Nicky drove very carefully, and Joe kept turning back to check that she was still sleeping on her car seat. Their little one.

Once inside, Joe puts her down in her bed. She barely opens her eyes, babbles something and falls asleep again. He gives her one last kiss, before joining Nicky in their bedroom.

After getting ready, he lies next to his husband and instinctively looks for the other’s body. He wraps his arms around his waist and sinks his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing his scent. Flour and fresh bread. 

“What a day, uh?” Nicky murmurs and Joe can only murmur a tired “mh”. “She’s really growing up.” But then he remains silent. In their many years together, Joe has learned to recognize Nicky’s silences. Some silences are empty and some that are full of unspoken words.

“What are you thinking about?”

“What Booker said. About Louis and François and how good they are with Jean Pierre, how the boys play together. How happy they are.”

“They are brothers.”

Nicky nods. “And don’t get me wrong, I know that Soumaya is like a little sister to them but-”

“But she’s not their sister,” Joe concludes. “My love, it has been a very long day. What are you trying to tell me?”

Nicky hesitates before turning around to face Joe and saying: “What would you say if I told you that I want another kid?”

Joe can’t help but smile: “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

They fall asleep holding each other, dreaming of their future.

Notes:

Some quick notes. Some of you might have heard the term "transracial" when speaking about people who identify with a different race/ethnicity than their own, but this term actually refers to adoptions where the adopted kid is of a different race than the parents. Contrary to Joe and Nicky, I haven't read many books on the subject (which is why I didn't go into detail) but I've watched these two interesting videos that I recommend.

This fanfic was a present for a friend who requested "Joe and Nicky adopt a baby, everything goes well, no drama, everyone is happy". So you'll forgive the excess of fluff and self-indulgent sweetness.
I also didn't do much research into the process of adoption in France. If you notice some mistakes (or if you have some interesting reading on the topic), please let me know! I'll be happy to change the fanfic.

As always, I'm immortal-family on tumblr (main blog is applepie4)