Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bubby furrows his brow in concentration as he continuously looks from the bowl back to the recipe. Somehow, despite only having grated the carrots and set it aside, it’s become covered in various stains and creases. Either Bubby’s extremely messy, or he’s just cursed. Probably the latter.

As he’s concentrating on making sure he has the exact amount of minced onions the recipe calls for (no, he’s NOT crying. The perfect scientist won’t be made teary-eyed by something as stupid as onions, thank you very much), he’s thrown out of his concentration by a pair of strong arms hugging him from behind.

“Harold-!” he whines, biting back a smile. “You can’t just sneak up on me when I’m cooking.” He sniffs the air. “You smell.”

“I didn’t even break a sweat!” Harold leans against the counter, resting his head on his hand and looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes that never fail to hypnotize Bubby. He’s got his hair tied back, although some strands are loose, most likely from his workout. “Are you sure you don’t just have a sensitive sense of smell?”

Well, if Bubby wanted to be a pedant, he could mention that all of his senses were enhanced, not just smell. But his pedantry was outweighed by his refusal to add to Harold’s argument against him. “I think you’re just so used to being smelly, you’ve built an immunity.” Contrasting his words, he leans over to kiss Harold on the cheek.

“So, what’s on the menu for tonight, dear? Should I have take-out on speed dial?” he teases. Bubby gives him a look .

“I’ll have you know, the last three recipes I’ve tested out have gone perfectly fine! Not to mention Judy sent me this in the mail. Are you going to insult your own mother’s judgement?” It’s a low blow, but Bubby’s not against being petty.

Harold pauses for a moment, giving Bubby an apologetic look. “I- Bubby, I love my mom, but there was a reason my dad did most of the cooking growing up. It’s not that she was a bad cook- she just…” he pauses, “She really enjoyed the jello trend of the 50s. And we all suffered the consequences.” He sighs dramatically, putting a hand on his forehead for effect.

Bubby flicks his husband’s forehead, causing Harold to huff.. “You’re incredibly dramatic, babe.”

“You love it!”

Bubby makes a noise of reluctant affirmation. “Maybe I do. Don’t go around telling people or anything crazy like that. I have a reputation at Black Mesa to uphold.”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost your bad boy reputation a long time ago!”

“You’re right, it’s now more of a mad scientist reputation.”

Harold shakes his head. “After our third date at the Black Mesa Underground Boxing Ring, everyone knows you’re a big softy with a heart of gold!”

Bubby finds himself blushing, trying his best to focus on mixing the spices. “H- Harold, you can’t- you can’t fluster me like that when I’m cooking,” he whines.

“I can be a little fucked up, maybe a little evil, if you will.”

“I will not.”

Harold rolls his eyes before grabbing Bubby’s face in his hands, going on his toes to quickly peck him on the lips, causing Bubby’s blush to deepen.

“...Okay, maybe I will.”

Harold grins, clearly feeling proud of his victory. “Wait- Have you and my mom been writing each other?”

“Of course! Weekly! She says I’m her favorite son-in-law.”

“Dear, you’re her only son-in-law.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Should I ask what goes on in those letters?”

“Oh, we gossip about you all the time,” he teases. “I keep her updated on the shit you get up to here, and in return she tells me embarrassing stories from your childhood.”

Harold puts a hand on his heart, feigning shock. “Betrayed by my own mother! I’m shocked! Disgusted! Heartbroken! How will my sense of trust ever recover?”

Bubby kisses him on the cheek. “How’s your sense of trust now?”

“Fully healed!”

Bubby can’t help but laugh, barely paying attention to what he’s cutting. Harold’s always been incredibly good at playing in the space. His friends from his college improv group (Don’t ask) had gotten a kick out of him when Bubby introduced them.

They sit there in silence for a while. Not an uncomfortable silence, but one that would be found among people who are so in love that the mere presence of the other is enough to fulfill them. Everyday Bubby can’t help but find joy in what his younger self would think of his life now. A kid with no future outside of Black Mesa in sight. He had no idea a nearly sitcom-like domestic life with the man he loves most in the world was waiting for him. Whenever Gordon tried to assure him he’d get out, he brushed it aside as him trying to make him feel better. One of the few things Bubby was more than happy to be wrong about.

“Bubby, I’m curious,” Harold begins, watching Bubby put the filling into the pan. “Is there a reason you’ve been cooking so much in the past few months?”

Bubby thinks for a moment. It’s- The real issue isn’t something he wants to burden Harold with, especially since the conversation’s been pretty lighthearted. He doesn’t want to bring down the air with his anxieties about things that probably don’t even matter. “Well, when I can finally convince Black Mesa to let me quit, I’m definitely becoming a housewife. So I have to start practicing as early as I can.”

Harold gives him a look , saying, tell the truth, motherfucker. Bubby’s really rubbed off on him, huh?

He sighs. “I- Well, I know it’s not set in stone yet, and I don’t want to get my hopes up, but… if we’re able to adopt, I don’t- I don’t want to be useless. I don’t- I don’t know the first thing about being a parent- I don’t exactly have any experience-”

“What about Joan?”

“Dr. Carlisle- She’s- She is like a mom to me, but I only had her for a year before they took her off the project. I didn’t see her again until I was 18. I don’t know the first thing about how you raise a child.”

“Bubby…” Before Bubby can turn on the stove, Harold takes his hand in his, cupping his face with the other. “You’re going to be such a good father. Being a parent isn’t about how many quantifiable ‘parenting skills’ you have. I know you, dear, and I know that you’d be the best father any child could ask for. Lacking a traditional family doesn’t make that any less true.” Bubby tries to hold back his tears, praying that Harold just assumes they’re from the onions. “People grow up with traditional families and could never amount to half the parent I know you’ll be.”

“But how do you know?” Bubby asks quietly.

“Because bad parents don’t care this much about being a good parent. I- We’ll both make mistakes as parents, dear, that’s just what being a parent is, but I know for a fact that, if you make a mistake, you won’t be stubborn about it, you’ll do whatever you can to fix it. Not to mention I’ve seen you with kids. Michaela told me Madeline won’t stop asking for when Uncle Bubby’s going to visit again.”

Bubby wipes his eyes. “Harold-” He internally cringes at his voice quivering. “I just- I feel so behind compared to you. You- You have a frame of reference that I don’t.”

He shakes his head. “From the parenting advice I’ve gotten, even being raised with a traditional family doesn’t prepare you for parenthood. It’s- It’s a completely different experience. Michaela vented to me about feeling like she was thrown in the deep end when her wife mentioned kids. No- No parent ever feels like they’re prepared.” He takes both of Bubby’s hands, running his fingers over Bubby’s knuckles. “If the agency accepts our request, I have no doubt we’ll both feel completely lost. But, from what I’ve heard, being a parent isn’t about knowing everything, it’s about rolling with the punches!” He let’s go of Bubby’s hands and mimes punching the air for the effect. Bubby feels his heart warm with adoration. “I’m not saying this to invalidate how you feel, dear. I know you’ve dealt with things in your childhood I can barely even begin to imagine- I just want you to know that you’re not at a disadvantage when it comes to being a parent.”

Bubby nods. He didn’t think Harold was invalidating how he felt to begin with, but he can’t help but smile at how considerate he is. He’s the luckiest man in the world, isn’t he, to be married to such a compassionate man. “You always know just what to say to make me feel better.”

Harold laughs. “It’s because it’s true! It just so happens that the truth helps you feel better!” Before Bubby can say anything, he finds himself lifted off his feet, carried in Harold’s big, strong arms.

“H- Harold!” he sputters, holding on to Harold by his neck. “You- You could’ve knocked over the pan!” He buries his face in Harold’s chest in an attempt to hide his blush.

“But I didn’t, dear!” He laughs, spinning Bubby around. He knows at this point he shouldn’t be thrown off guard by his husband’s strength, but he just is . He’s a little less than a foot taller than him. He’s always been the taller one in his past relationships. Even after being together for almost 5 years, being picked up by Harold still remains a thrilling experience. The feeling of being protected, of being cared for, after so long without. “Remember how I told you I took ballet? I’m more graceful than I look!” He spins Bubby around again. “Speaking of dancing- We should take ballroom dancing classes!”

“What-? Babe, you know I have two left feet.”

“That’s why we’d take classes! Besides, I think it’d be romantic.” He leans his forehead against Bubby’s, kissing him gently.

Bubby leans in, pressing his forehead against Harold’s. They both pull away, gazing at each other with complete trust and devotion. And once again, Bubby knows he’s the luckiest man in the world.