Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ Trained ❯ Trained ( Chapter 1 )

Title:Trained

 

Author:Catherine Grissom

 

Rating:T

 

Disclaimer:Witch Hunter Robin is owned by Sunrise and Bandai. I own Maria Umeko and Arima, though.

 

Warnings:Adorably precocious toddlers, frustrated Daddy Amon, Amon/Robin fluff, implied Nagira/Doujima

 

A/N:I decided I was being too cruel to our poor little Amon and Robin, so here's a cute little piece that I wrote after giggling for about ten minutes over the image of Amon with a two year old. This is about eight years after The Factory Incident, which would make Robin about 23 and Amon....Eight years older than however old he was in the series. Juliano's used his pull and has managed to not only exonerate the pair but has also turned the STN-J into more of a peace-keeping unit than a hunting unit, given the problems with the earlier Director. And I think that's about all the backstory on that you need.

 

Amon was beginning to understand two things. The first was why Robin had nearly collapsed in exhaustion after a simple shopping trip. The second, and more infuriating of the two, was just why it was called the `terrible twos'.

 

Maria was two-and-a-half and often behaved like a little adult, when her aunt and uncle weren't spoiling her rotten at least. Doujima ensured that the girl had everything in the latest fashions in every color, saying that someone had to be bright in that drab household of theirs. Nagira didn't focus on a specific thing, save for maybe noise-making toys, but claimed that it was payback for both Amon's being an ass and spoiling Nagira's own six-year-old, Arima.

 

Maria, growing up in the household that she did, was usually treated as an adult by her parents and had developed a relatively large vocabulary for her age. Unfortunately, it seemed that she wanted to focus on three words for the day.

 

“Daddy! Mommy! Want!”

 

Keeping his own voice low, hoping that the child would catch on, Amon murmured, “Mommy's sleeping.”

 

The girl's mouth opened into a perfect `o' and she nodded, raising her arms in request. Deciding that he didn't have anything better to do and that she'd only pout if he didn't, Amon scooped the child up, settling her slight weight comfortably in the crook of one arm.

 

Once situated, Maria turned childishly serious grey eyes to her father, raised a finger to her lips and let out a `shh'. Failing to smother an amused chuckle, Amon nodded, then repeated her gesture. Delighted that her father had understood, Maria smiled broadly, then wrapped her small arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.

 

Relieved that she was quiet for the moment, Amon looked at the clock. It was nearly time for her lunch and, seeing as she hadn't come back with food on the front of her shirt, she hadn't eaten while she was out.

 

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

 

What he received in response was a sharp tug at his hair and a “Daddy! Shh!”

 

Resolving to either cut his hair or follow Robin's lead yet again and pull it back, he asked again, this time in a whisper, “Are you hungry?”

 

There was no tug at his hair this time and Maria shrugged, bouncing her shoulders up and down almost too quickly to be noticed.

 

Amon paused for a moment, considering, then asked, “Is that a yes or a no?”

 

Poutily furious grey eyes turned to him and Maria reiterated her order of “Daddy! Shh!” giving his hair one sharp yank for every syllable.

 

Resisting the urge to childishly point out that she was being louder than he was, Amon returned to his questioning.

 

“Did you eat with Mommy?” he began, keeping his voice to a whisper at the insistence of his aching scalp.

 

“No,” the child in his arms chirped.

 

Nodding, Amon used his free hand to open the pantry. “What do you want to eat?”

 

One hand loosed itself from around his neck and pointed at….Something.

 

Sighing, he gave his daughter an exasperated look out of the corner of his eye. “I don't know what you're pointing at, Honey. You're going to have to tell me.”

 

Apparently deciding that her father must be stupid, Maria leaned toward the cupboard and resumed her pointing.

 

Figuring that she was going to be stubborn on this issue, Amon obediently reached towards what he figured she was pointing at: the fruit cups.

 

“No,” came the annoyed voice. The hand pointed even more forcefully and the fine golden eyebrows shot up in emphasis.

 

Not the fruit cups then. What was she- Oh. “No,” Amon turned his daughter's word back on her.

 

“Want!” she cried, no longer caring that Mommy was sleeping.

 

“You're not having cookies for lunch.”

 

“Want!”

 

“No.”

 

“Want Mommy!”

 

“Mommy's sleeping.” Why, hello, Square One, Amon mused, drawing in a deep breath. Long time, no see.

 

“No!”

 

Amon was tempted to just give her the cookies and wash his hands of the whole ordeal. Then he realized that if he were to do that, there would be a very angry Eve of Witches to deal with.

 

“Want Mommy!”

 

It might have been his own frustration, but Amon could swear that Maria's voice was getting higher and louder every time she opened her mouth.

 

“You can't have Mommy,” he tried reasoning.

 

“Want! Mommy!” No, that shriek was pretty close to ear-splitting. He wasn't imagining things.

 

“Mommy's sleeping.” The damn cookies were looking like a better option by the second.

 

“No!”

 

That shriek was ear-splitting. Amon squeezed his eyes shut against a developing headache as his daughter picked up a chant of “Want! Mommy!” at an impossible decibel.

 

After about the fifth repeat of the chant, Amon decided that reasoning with the miniature harpy latched onto his side would not work. Moving away from the pantry, the beleaguered father sagged against a convenient counter and raised his free hand to rub at his temples.

 

“You were so much easier to deal with when the lunch choices were to nurse or to bottle-feed,” he muttered.

 

“Mommy! Want!” Maria bounced in his arms, showing no signs of tiring.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he'd given up on trying to be heard by the child and was just talking now. “Mommy want. I got it. I got it.”

 

“Mommy!” Apparently tired of her father's lack of action, Maria flung her weight forward, still not releasing her father's neck.

 

As a result, Amon was forced to simultaneously redistribute his own weight to avoid toppling over and deal with the whiplash caused by an insistent toddler.

 

“Maria Umeko, you stop that this instant!” It wasn't a loud voice, but it was an authoritative voice. And a very tired voice.

 

Now holding a blessedly calm Maria and sure that he was about to be labeled incompetent, Amon kept his eyes shut as he tried to quiet the ringing in his ears.

 

He heard Robin sigh and chanced a glance at her. Whatever anger had been there when she'd first arrived was gone and she simply looked worn out. Exhaling heavily, Amon tried to apologize for his daughter, “I'm sorry she woke you.”

 

Robin held up a hand, choosing instead to talk to the now quiet and still child. “Did Daddy feed you?”

 

“No, Mommy,” the girl answered sweetly.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“Yes, Mommy.”

 

Amon craned his neck to make sure the child in his arms was still the same one. Yep, it was still the same little blonde-headed Maria. How did she do that?

 

“What do you want to eat?” Robin asked and Amon was sure that the earlier scene would repeat.

 

“Fwoot cup, Mommy,” came the innocent answer.

 

Amon felt his jaw drop and he sputtered indignantly. “She wanted cookies.”

 

His hair was tugged yet again and Maria turned a gaze of pious anger on him. “No cookies, Daddy,” she sniffed daintily. “Fwoot cup.”

 

Now thoroughly confused, Amon's mouth worked silently for a moment and he noticed Robin trying to hide a smile. “But-“

 

Another tug. “Fwoot.” Tug. “Cup.” Tug.

 

Feeling severely outmatched, Amon sighed. “Fine. `Fwoot cup.'”

 

Maria smiled beatifically at him and he heard Nagira's voice in his head, `Oh, don't mind the horns. They're just there to hold up the halo, aren't they, Ume-chan?'

 

Raising an eyebrow at the little traitor he was holding, Amon pursed his lips. “And I'm guessing you're going to eat all your vegetables at dinner, too?”

 

Maria stuck her tongue out, making a face of utter disgust. “Silly Daddy.”

 

By this point, Robin was shaking with repressed laughter. Nonetheless, she valiantly moved towards the pantry to get the `fwoot cup.'

 

Maria, obviously seeing an opportunity, grabbed the back of her mother's shirt when she passed, still holding on to her father's neck, and turned the small family into a sort of three-person conga line.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

A few moments later, with Maria's small lunch laid out, Robin rested her elbow on the table and leaned her head against her hand. Maria was eating happily, perched on her father's lap (she'd shrieked when he'd tried to set her down and Amon had decided that he liked his hearing, thank you very much) and trying to offer him some of her food every once in a while, pouting when he refused the offers.

 

“She has you trained,” Robin mused. “You realize that, right?”

 

Amon had opened his mouth to say something, but Maria had spun around with another spoonful and he quickly clamped it shut, shaking his head at the child.

 

Maria pouted for a moment, then decided to try something new. “But is good,” she cajoled, waving the spoon lightly.

 

Eying his daughter distrustfully, he spoke. “I don't ca-“

 

That was as far as he got before Maria shoved the spoon in his mouth and smiled gleefully.

 

Amon looked so incredibly shocked that Robin lost control of the laughter she'd been holding back since shortly after she'd walked into the kitchen. Her forehead slid down her forearm to rest in the crook of her elbow while she tried to gain control long enough to breathe.

 

Maria shrieked with laughter as her father swallowed and Robin decided it was best not to chance a glance at his expression; she wasn't quite ready to die laughing.

 

He was silent for a few moments. Then, “I am not traine- How much sugar is in that thing? It's vile.”

 

Robin eyed him, swatting at his arm, but said nothing, figuring he'd talk himself into realization in a moment.

 

“What?” he asked, seemingly genuinely confused. “It's too sweet. What if it makes her sick? Or rots her teeth?”

 

Robin raised an eyebrow. “She's two.”

 

“It could give her diabetes,” Amon retorted, preparing to say more. He stopped, his mouth hanging open for a moment as his brain caught up.

 

Robin smiled, raising her hand and twirling her pinkie in slow circles. “Trained. I told you.”

 

Amon sighed heavily, seemingly realizing that he'd been beaten by a toddler. “Can I please go back to work?” It was as close to a whine as she'd ever heard from him.

 

Robin shook her head, trying her hardest to look sympathetic. “No, you may not. You heard Kosaka; there's no work to do.”

 

“Mommy?” Maria piped up. “Milk, please?”

 

Ruffling her daughter's hair, Robin rose to get the requested drink.

 

Sounding rather pitiful and just a touch desperate, Amon continued, “But there has to be paperwork at least.”

 

“You hate paperwork,” she reminded over her shoulder, fetching her daughter's favorite cup and filling it with milk. “And you heard Father Juliano; if you show your face at Raven's Flat to do anything other than show off baby pictures before Maria's in school, he might just rethink this peace-keeping deal.”

 

She heard him sigh and smiled, walking back to the table with Maria's drink and setting it in front of the girl.

 

“Fine,” he almost sounded defeated. “But no more children. At least not until I learn to deal with this one.”

 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him from behind, Robin rested her chin on his shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

 

Ignoring the look he gave her, she pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “Just learn fast,” she whispered.

 

His jaw dropped at the implication and Maria, who'd just spun around with another spoonful, squealed happily at the opportunity.

 

Robin stroked her daughter's hair. “You be good for Daddy,” she said seriously, watching her daughter nod feverishly in response.

 

“Yes, Mommy!”

 

Turning to go back to bed, she ran a hand through her husband's hair, dropping another gentle kiss onto the top of his head.

 

Poor thing, she must have really startled him. He didn't even complain about the sugar content that time.

A/N 2:Why is it that the girls always have their dads wrapped around their little fingers? Poor Amon. He doesn't stand a chance. And Robin isn't exactly helping matters. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the fluff. I figured they needed a break from the angst.

 

Oh and `Umeko', according to the site I found, means `patient.' Wishful thinking, I feel.