3-year-old Wingman (Connor Murphy x Reader babysitting fluff)
SHAMELESS REPOST BC I GOT A FEW NICE COMMENTS ON MY OTHER FIC AND NO ONE SAW THIS ONE BECAUSE I DIDN”T VERIFY MY ACCOUNT THROUGH MY EMAIL WHEN I POSTED IT I HOPE YOU LIKE ASDGFHFUCK THIS IS KINDA SHIT BC IT WAS THE FIRST DEH FIC I WROTE IDK
3-year-old Wingman (Connor Murphy x Reader fluff babysitting AU its fuckin lame)
Ps: im bad at revising
TW: angst, lots of swearing, toddlers, very very brief mentions of depression, anxiety, and suicide
You saw a dim light flicker from the corner of your eye as you played Uno with your young nephew, accompanied by a slight ding signaling you got a text. You knew it was probably Connor.
“You can get your phone, it’s okay.” your nephew told you, sounding wise beyond his years for a 3-and-a-half-year-old. He was the most adorable thing, and you couldn’t get over it.
“Nope, buddy. I need my full concentration for this game. I’m not gonna lose to you again. They can wait a couple of minutes until I demolish you at this Uno.” you replied sternly, lifting your head up high, causing giggles to erupt for the small boy. You couldn’t help but smile back. But your lips fell when your phone started dinging over and over and over again. Your nephew peered up at you with big eyes, silently telling you to just get it. You put up a finger, putting your cards face to use your other hand to reach for your phone. You were right, it was Connor.
7 messages from Connor
what are you up to
my parents aren’t home
you’re my only friend i want to hang out with you dammit
You couldn’t help but to let a smile form on your face. This fucking kid. You couldn’t believe that this was the boy that barely spoke two words to you over a span of a month when you were lab partners. At the start of Junior Year, you had to take a physics class as a prereq for graduating. The class was filled with seniors, leaving you and this mysterious, and super scary Connor Murphy as the only two juniors. So, your teacher paired you up, resentment oozing out of Connor. You basically did the projects by yourself, him helping with data or equations you didn’t understand yourself, but you never actually talked much. You did your work in silence. Until you noticed he was writing some old fall out boy (A/N: I feel like everyone just mutually agreed on Connor liking FOB so I’m just going along with it.) lyrics on one of his data sheets.
“That’s a good song.” You murmured, peering back at your paper, trying to work through this problem that made zero sense.
“You like fall out boy?” he mumbled, trying to figure out what you were trying to do by making conversation with him.
“Yeah, Pete Wentz was the love of my life for a while. They were actually my first concert back in middle school, when they made a comeback. But they peeked at From Under A Cork Tree.” Connor smiled at this, agreeing silently with everything you just said. His smile was addictive, so you kept going. Seeing how long you could kept a conversation going and his smile up as well. You mostly talked at first. But his word count each week was increasing exponentially. Until you went a whole class listening to him talk about how The Smiths was easily the best band ever and better than Nirvana and that Nirvana is over-hyped because everyone romanticizes Kurt’s suicide while no one really actually cares about the depressed kid until they are gone. The conversation kind of died after that. Him feeling like he said too much, and you just not knowing what to say. Something told you he wasn’t just talking about Kurt Cobain. So, you kind of squeezed his hand momentarily, which he would never admit, made him blush like a madman and almost pushed him into a panic attack, he was so overwhelmed and caught off guard. Then, the game changed for Connor. It was bound to happen; a crush was going to form. Connor fell victim, falling hard. No one really reached out to him before, unless it was to make fun of him and get in his head. He was the school’s punching bag. Even school nerds like Jared Kleinman picked on him. He always noticed you before. You never laughed at him when other made jokes. But he didn’t realize that not only a friendship was forming, but a crush as well. And when he did, it was too late to abort. This boy was in love with you from the time you spotted those fall out boy lyrics to be honest.
Another ding snapped you out of your reminiscing.
6 messages from Connor:
Are you alive
no that’s ridiculous
of course you are
you never not text me
You texted him back quickly, knowing he was probably thinking of all the ways you just lying on the street dead to your body floating in the river face down. He confessed that this happened a lot to you. He’d just get bad, intrusive thoughts he couldn’t shake away.
im alive and well. Just babysitting my nephew Carter. HES SO CUTE
You snapped a picture of Carter playing Uno and sent it to Connor. Before you could even put down your phone, another familiar ding alerted you.
1 message from Connor:
4 messages from Connor:
guess i’ll go hang with my other friends
woe is me
shut up nerd
if you want, come babysit
1 message from Connor:
hell fucking no
well i have to go then. i gotta win this game of uno this 3 year old is putting me to shame
2 messages from Connor:
you’re so embarrassing why am i friends with you
i’ll be over in ten
You smiled at the last message. Connor wasn’t the only one with the crush. Yes, yours did develop later in your relationship, but it was definitely equal to Connors admiration for you. Connor didn’t really start opening up after about three months into your friendship. Once he talked about the whole Kurt Cobain thing, he kind of laid low for a little, you having to steer the conversation if you wanted it to live. He was touchy, so you had to handle him with care. You tried to bring it up a few times, to just get immediately shut down. You’d always ask in school, because you weren’t at the point of hanging outside of it yet. But he’d always change topic. It’s not like he didn’t trust you, it was everyone around him. Paranoid they were secretly listening in on your chats. So, you decided to take initiative. It was exactly 3 months of you being friends, so you asked if he wanted to hang.
“What…” he replied, seemingly uninteresting as he doodled along the margin of his already finished calc problems. He was actually a fucking genius. He wasn’t just artistic, but the kid had a brain. But that’s a different topic.
“You know what today is?”
“I ‘donno know,” all his words kind of running together, “Friday?”
“No.” you felt dumb now. “Never mind.”
“No what’s today. I like hearing your weird ass facts. Is it like, Morrissey’s birthday, or like the anniversary of The Queen Is Dead album?”
“You’re gonna find it stupid that I was even going to make a big deal out of it, so, never mind.”
“No, tell me.”
“Fucking god, (Y/N). Just tell me already.”
“It’s our ¼ friendaversary.”
“What? What the fuck is that shit?”
“See. I knew you’d find it dumb.”
“N-no, I just don’t know what the fuck that is.” Connor genuinely asked.
“We’ve been friends for three months, Connor. That’s what it means. I thought you were good at math?”
“That’s a thing? And people celebrate that? I wasn’t aware that was a milestone.”
“No, people don’t really celebrate it. But we do our own thing.”
“How is it three months?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, how do you figure?”
“Oh… It’s the day we talked about fall out boy. Remember?” You shifted awkwardly in your desk, realizing that knowing the exact date you first bonded was creepy.
“Barely.” he lied. Of course, he fucking did. He wouldn’t stop thinking about you that moment for the rest of that week. Then, he’d just think of you in general from that point on all the time. You consumed his thoughts, both during day and night. You were even in his dreams.
“We should, like, I don’t know… Hang out tonight.”
“We’ve never hung out before. What would we even do.”
“Friend things.” you sneered
“And what does that consist of.” he jabbed back.
“I don’t know, Connor. Like, use that vivid imagination of yours. Pizza and a movie. Pizza and video games. Pizza and anything. Pizza just had to be the foundation.
“Well, do you wanna go out somewhere. Or like hang out at someone’s house?”
“It’s getting cold out so we can hang at one of our houses, if you want?”
“Um, can we go to yours? My parents will be home and I don’t like to ask them things.”
“Sure, they won’t mind you’re going to be over right?”
“Um, I wasn’t going to tell them.”
“Why, are you embarrassed of me.” you joked. Connor didn’t respond right away. “Wait, are you?”
“No, of course not. It’s just…” he paused, pursing his lips, you noticed his prominent cupid’s bow. “It’s complicated.” he grumbled, “What time do you want me over for this stupid celebration.”
“Well if you think it’s stupid-”
Connor started speaking over you, “For this very awesome, cool, great, fan-fucking-tastic celebration. I misspoke.”
“Can’t wait.” he responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. But you both knew he couldn’t.
That night consisted of pizza, of course. And Connor opted for old NES games, which he beat you at every single time.
“Okay, literally fuck Excitebike! It’s so dumb you can overheat your bike?” I shouted, throwing my controller.
“You’re such a sore loser.”
“I am not! It’s just Excitebike is dumb. Let’s go back to Punch Out!, or Galaga. I’m warmed up now, and I’ll definitely win.”
“You’ve said that after every single game.”
“No, I’m serious now, my game was just off.”
“Plus, I had drawing today, so my hand was already tired.”
“Whatever you say, (Y/N).”
“I think I broke my thumb last week squeezing it between my locker.”
“Of course you did.” he taunted, trying to resist a smile. His eyes were gleaming, he was enamored. He was trying even harder to not kiss you.
“I’m going to beat you next week.”
“I mean, if you’re free.” you tried to not sound desperate, but failing.
“Do you see all my other friends lining up to hang out with me?” he deadpanned.
“Then, It’s a date.”
“Date?” Connor quickly caught your phrasing, trying to understand your intention.
You froze, “You know, not an actual date. Like, a platonic date, bro.” you tried your hardest to brush it off, but failing. Again. You scolded yourself for using the term ‘bro’. But Connor let it go, though he did feel wounded.
“Got it, bro.” Sourly putting emphasis on the latter word, “Play me again so I can fucking win for the millionth time.” he said, a little too aggressively.
“Dandy. I just want to prove I’m good enough for you.” he accidentally professed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquired.
“God, just play me. That’s what I mean.”
You didn’t want to press him. The tension in the air was at an all-time high. Connor never really got snippy like this with you. I mean, yes, he did sometimes raise his voice or make a rude remark. But he’d habitually curse under his breath and apologize immediately. You always understood, knowing all the pent-up anger inside him. But then Connor seemed to relax again once you started playing Punch Out!, taking his anger out through Little Mac on King Hippo, and then the two of you went back to having fun. In Connor’s head though, he definitely planned to kiss you that night, but the way to swerved the date topic, he lost all his confidence. Taking it as you’d never see him in a romantic light. That was almost 6 months ago, and he still hasn’t made a move.
You came out of your daydream once again when Carter yelled out Uno, well a version of the word.
“Unope!” he added a P in the end for whatever reason. You decided against telling him. How were you losing to a 3-year-old for the seventh time?! He placed down a red 4, excitement in his eyes. He definitely had a red, you could see it in his eyes. You looked at your hand, filled with about a dozen reds from the draw 4s he was hitting you with. So, you decided to take your chance picking up a card from the deck. A yellow 4.
“You aren’t winning today.” you placed the card down, smirking. The 3-year-old squealed out and slapped down a yellow 7.
“Outto!!!” he cheered, the bastard winning again. You couldn’t believe he had a yellow out of everything.
You throw up your cards in a joking manner, “You don’t even know the whole alphabet!” another fit of giggles came from your nephew.
“I least he can win at Uno,” a voice came through the door. “You’re a destined loser. I don’t think you’ve ever won at anything.” Connor trudged through the door in his beat up brown jean jacket and combat boots, his nose red from the cold approaching winter air.
“False!” you yelled out, going up to Connor and giving him a bear hug. He slung an arm around you, bringing him closer to him. He rested his chin on your head, inhaling your scented shampoo. He couldn’t pick out the scent, but you reminded him he needed to wash his hair soon.
“Solitaire doesn’t count. You literally okay that by yourself.”
You pushed him away, “Whatever, shut up. I’m not a sore loser at least.”
“You totally are though?” he remarks back, “You make up excuses. You just told your nephew he doesn’t know the alphabet because you’re angry you lost.”
“I said, whatever! Shut up.” you fake yell like you’re pissed off. “Connor, this is Carter, my favorite nephew. Carter, this is Connor, my least favorite friend.” Connor waved awkwardly at the child before him, Carter got up from his chair and jumped down. He tugged on his skinny jean pant leg that was still too big because he was so lanky. His legs were skinnier than yours.
“It’s touching me.” Connor whispered to you.
“Carter wants you to pick him up. He probably wants to tell you something.”
“How do I pick it up.”
“Connor, why are you an inept alien? Like you aren’t from earth.”
Connor leans down and scoops up Carter, Carter whispering something in his ear.
“Both our names do begin with C. You are correct. Here I thought you didn’t know your alphabet.” Connor repeated what Carter told him aloud, looking over at you and raising his eyebrow. Carter whispered again, cupping his hands around his mouth so you wouldn’t hear.
“You know until L,” he paused, listening more. “Yeah, no I get it, it does get confusing at that point.” Carter continued. You couldn’t help but to burn up at the sight. Your two favorite guys. “Yeah, I’ll stop talking out loud.” you assumed Carter asked him to keep the next thing a secret. Connor starts to turn red and looks at you for a split second. Connor puts Carter down, trickery written on your nephew’s face, bashfulness on Connor’s. Carter ran into your living room, picking up train tracks and started to build.
You squeeze Connor’s thin arm, “What did he tell you?”
Connor smiled lopsidedly, “It’s a secret. I can’t tell you.” he confidently takes your hand and dragged you into the living room. The three of you spend the day playing with trains, then move to watching rug rags, then back to trains, and then finally Carter passed out fast asleep coloring with Connor at the table. You pick Carter up, leaving Connor to keep coloring.
“Is he knocked out?” Connor realizing you left, walking to the bottom of the stairs, watching you walk up them with Carter on your back.
“Yes, finally. I thought we were going to have to play trains again. A girl can only play with Thomas a number of times before she goes a little stir crazy.”
Connor catches up to you on the steps, “I can put him to bed, if you wanna clean up downstairs.” he proposes, you nodded and let Connor take Carter off your back. You watched as Carter curled up in Connor’s chest, having your stomach dropped.
Shit. You really liked Connor.
You realized you were just staring at Connor, making him shift awkwardly under your stare. “Um, I’m, uh, yeah. I’m gonna go do that.” you chuckled awkwardly, going downstairs. Mentally punching yourself in the face for being weird. What the hell was wrong with you, you thought to yourself. You start with the crayons, putting them back in the box. You picked up pictures that Carter drew. You laughed at the stick figures, most of them being Connor, him, and you. Flipping through the pictures, Carter start drawing you and Connor holding hands, then there was one of you two dancing, then the last one displayed you kissing. You smile softly, thinking about the possibility of what Carter told Connor that he blushed so furiously at. You looked over at the end of the table, realizing a turned over paper where Connor was sitting. You glanced at the stairs making sure Connor was still upstairs. You creep over to the paper, turning it over.
It was you. Where you were sitting, coloring, looking down with strands of your hair falling in front of your eyes. Eyes that seemed to sparkle, smile lines that corresponded with an closed smirk, a soft dimple marking your cheek. He made you look so beautiful. It was so… realistic. And, just amazing.
“Don’t look at that.” Connor hissed, trying taking it out of your hands.
“This is me…” you stated, trailing off.
“It’s nothing. Let it go.” he continued, not sure if he meant the paper or the topic.
“No, I have questions.”
“I’m not playing 20/20 questions. Just forget I drew that. Rip it up.”
“What did Carter tell you.”
“I have to go, (Y/N), it’s getting late.”
“Just tell me, Connor.”
“The secret? The stupid fucking secret some 3 year old told me?”
“I wanna know the secret you’ve been keeping from me for like 6 months.”
“And what the fuck would that be.” He knew what you were getting on about.
“Tell me how you feel about me.”
Connor blushed, “I’m leaving.”
“Stop,” you run in front of the door. Placing a hand on Connor’s chest.
“I can’t do this right now.”
“Then when will you?!” You whisper shout, remembering Carter is still upstairs sleeping,
You two stared at each other, both feeling vulnerable. Connor clenched his jaw.
“Never. You’re too good for me. You’re a thousand times too good for me. I don’t deserve you. I’m a loser, a freak. And you’re, I don’t even fucking know a good word to describe you. You're… just… perfect. And I know deep down you don’t actually like me. Just let me go home. I’ve embarrassed myself enough, don’t you think.
“You’re so dense, Connor.” You grabbed the back of his head, doing what he should’ve 6 months ago. Really, what you should’ve done 9 months ago. Your lips collided together. The kiss itself was flawed: Connor kissed you back to roughly, your noses bumped, and both of you kind of smelled like wax from the crayons. But it was enough. It was more than enough for both of you. It was perfect.
“Finally.” a tiny voice said from the top of the stairs, “Took you guys long enough.” You both snapped your heads over, breaking the kiss. It’s the fucking kid.
“Talk to us when you know the alphabet.” Connor called out, kissing you lightly this time like he’d never hurt you, and he never will. Carter trotted back to his room.
“Someone needs to tuck me in again.” Carter yelled. You looked over at Connor.
“Yeah, I got it.” Connor told you, and started for the stairs. “Oh, and if isn’t obvious, I fucking love you, (Y/N).”
You rolled your eyes at his word choice, but your stomach did back flips, “I fucking love you, Murphy.”