PaulTord Family Oneshots

The Alien Arrives

Micha held onto his dad and brother's hands as he stood between them, the three walking down a hallway in the hospital. He wasn't entirely sure why they were there. Something about the new baby coming, but he didn't know why it had to be at a hospital.

Paul opened a door and Micha saw that it was a cafeteria. “Oh thank God, I'm starving.” He said dramatically. Joël immediately took off toward the food, Micha following suit.

Paul followed behind them, looking over them to see what the hospital had to offer. He couldn't help but feel hopeful when he walked in, knowing that the hospital food would be atrocious, but still thinking that maybe, just maybe, there would be something decent.

He was wrong.

The two boys looked down the line, the same disappointment showing on their face. Joël looked up at his dad slowly. “... I don't want this.”

Paul took a deep breath and sighed. “... Me either.” He mumbled under his breath. “If you guys can wait a little, maybe we can go get something better.”

Micha immediately began to groan and whine dramatically, falling to the floor slowly.

Paul took another deep breath in. Not today. “Okay, okay.” He said, picking up the child. He told Joël to come along, walking out with his sons. “Let me just check on Papa and then maybe we can go get something.” He offered to try to get Micha to cease his tantrum. It seemed to work, as the little boy nodded in response. Paul sighed again before leading the two boys toward the maternity ward, arriving at their other father's room. Tord was laying in the bed, hands folded on top of his stomach while he was fast asleep.

Paul walked in and sighed softly, leaning down to kiss his husband's head while still holding his youngest son. Micha also kissed Tord's head, making Paul's heart melt. He smiled before leaving with the two boys. They shouldn't take too long.

--

Paul took the two boys to get some fast food, one opting for chicken nuggets and the other for a cheeseburger with no pickles, no onions, no ketchup, and mustard. Sometimes Paul thought about Micha, what was going on in his little mind, why he would only put mustard on his cheeseburger, but got it for the child nonetheless. They took a seat by the window because the boys liked the tall chairs. Joël got up with no problem, while Paul had to lift Micha to sit him down, the younger boy looking proud and mighty in his tall chair. He brought their meals over, handing his sons what they ordered.

Joël threw open his box of chicken nuggets, submerging it into a cup of honey mustard. Micha took a bite of his burger, humming in satisfaction.
Paul held his burger in his hands, thoughts rushing through his head. Would Tord be okay while he was gone? Did Patryck get to the hospital yet? What was with his sons’ weird obsession with assorted mustards?

He was soon brought back to reality after he realized Joël was chanting ‘Dad, Dad, Dad’ over and over to get his attention.

“What's up?”

“How much longer do we have to wait for the baby to arrive?” Joël asked, using vigorous jazz hands as he emphasized his last word.

Paul snorted in response, finally taking a bit out of his lunch. “Probably a few hours, buddy. We'll have to see.”

Micha groaned. “Having babies is so long and boring.” He complained.

‘Long, yes,’ Paul thought to himself, ‘boring, not so much.’ He almost cringed, thinking of Tord, mid labor. ‘Not so much.’

Then his phone began to ring. The Dutch man took it out of his pocket, the ID saying it was Patryck. He answered, bringing the cellular up to his ear. “Lost?”