Marjory au 2

Magnus isn't sure how long he's been staring at his baby, sleepy and squinting in her cot, but it's clearly been long enough that Taako's bothered by it.

"The fuck you eyeing my daughter like that for, Burnsides. You look like you're tryna suss out how best to oven-roast her."

His husband gives a not-gentle shove to his thigh from the other side of the couch, hands occupied by the crossword section of a trashy magazine. Magnus knows, without looking, that he's filling all the empty slots with "fuck", because he thinks it's funny. It kind of is. The magazine sits on his lap now, ignored, so Taako can fix him with a suspicious glare.

"Seriously, though. Something wrong with her?"

Magnus shakes his head, half-involuntary, because no way, there's /nothing/ wrong with their baby. She's perfect, objectively, even without his serious bias.

"Just thinkin' shit. You reckon nail polish is safe for babies?" Her hands are safe in her precious little mittens, a knitted gift from Istus (a /goddess/, and /look at this kid/, she doesn't even /care/), but he knows too well that she's got deadly little fingernails under there.

"Only one way to find out."

Magnus balks, almost jolting Taako's feet off his lap. "I don't... think /trial and error/ is how you do stuff with babies."

Taako shrugs, chewing idly on the end of his pen. "You guys'd look really cute all matchy though."

Magnus takes his eyes off their little girl to nod towards Taako's own nails, dark red polish the same as his own.

"And you."

Taako's turn to pause.

"Yeah. And me."