Chapter Text
The pounding on his door wakes Jesus up in the middle of the night. He groans, scrambling out of bed and stumbling to the front door of his tiny, one-room apartment. He opens the door, steeling himself (last time he was woken up in the middle of the night it was to a drunk and frustrated Judas who had just come back from a failed attempt to save a local school from being demolished, and seeing Judas so sad in the middle of the night was bad for Jesus's mental health), but relaxes when he sees Mary and Peter standing there.
"Jesus," Mary says with a shaking voice. "You have to come with us. It's…It's Judas."
"What happened?" Jesus asks, feeling his heart pound hard in his chest.
"You…" Peter shakes his head, eyes wide with clear confusion. "You should probably just come."
Wordlessly, Jesus grabs his sweater and follows Peter and Mary. He doesn't bother putting his shoes on, but luckily they just go up the stairs to where May, Peter Simon and Judas's place is. They've been in this building, all thirteen of them, for a few weeks now. It's a nice place, close to a homeless shelter they help out at, and Jesus is not looking forward to when they'll inevitably have to leave when the local rabbis become upset with him.
Peter opens the door and Jesus is not sure what he expects to find on Judas's bed, but a tiny child with long blond hair is not on the list.
The child is sitting on the bed, body poking out from inside a blue shirt that is around twice the size of his whole body. Judas's shirt, his favorite shirt to wear at night that he took form James. Since all his nighttime shirts are hand-me-downs from other people. Because he says old clothes are the most comfortable.
"And look like shit," He says, nodding solemnly as if he's talking about something with the gravity of the Torah. "But that's fine because who sees me at night-"
"My God," Jesus whispers.
"I woke up and he was like this," Mary says behind him, but Jesus has eyes for no one but the child. He can't be older than two, and is so cute it's almost insulting to other children.
He also looks like he's very confused and about to cry.
"Hi there, honey," Jesus says gently and kneels down by the bed. "It's all right, no one is going to hurt you. You're safe here. Do you know who I am?"
The child shakes his head, blond hair flying everywhere.
"Well, then we'll just need to introduce ourselves," He raises his hand to shake. "My name is Jesus."
"Jeez?" The child speaks for the first time, tilting his head to the side.
"Yeah, that's right. What's yours?"
"Juwas."
"Judas?" Jesus asks, and the boy nods.
"Fuck, it's really him," Someone whispers behind them. James. When the fuck did he come into the apartment? His place is two stories up! How did he know what was going on? Thomas had probably gone to get the rest of them. No secrets among the apostles, no knowledge not shared in seconds.
"Don’t curse in front of a kid."
"Peter, it's Judas. He knows more curse words then all of us combined."
"Not right now, right now he's like two."
As their voices raise, Judas (because it's Judas, he needs to call him by his name) cowers into himself, lower lip wobbling like he's about to start crying and Jesus won't have that.
"They're very loud, I know," Jesus said gently. "Maybe we should go somewhere a bit quieter, huh sweetie?"
Judas hesitates for a moment but then nods and raises his arms to be picked up. Jesus smiles, heart clenching at the easy trust.
Once softly cradled in his arms, Judas places his little head on Jesus's shoulder and holds on to his shirt with tiny fists, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes.
"I'm taking Judas to my place," Jesus says loudly enough to get everyone's attention.
The room grows silent and then Mary says, "That's a good idea, it's calm there. Do you think-um, that he's going to stay like this?"
Jesus breathes out, "I don't know. Probably."
This has to be his Father's doing (unless it's one of the angels, just fucking around), and God doesn’t do anything for no reason. Which means that Judas will be staying as a child. At least for now.
Mary nods, "Then I'll go to get some things in the morning."
"IN the meantime, I'll try to get him to sleep-" Jesus looks down at Judas, finding him already fast asleep.
"What the fuck," Peter groans. "What the fuck is our life."
"Weird," John says solemnly. "Our life is weird."
Jesus wants to slam his head on something hard.
*
Baby Judas whimpers in protest when Jesus tries to put him on the bed. He tightens his hold on the Jesus's shirt and Jesus can see his eyes moving back and forth behind his closed eyelids. Almost like he's afraid to be abandoned.
"Shh, it's all right, little man," Jesus whispers into the boy's ear. He lays down on the bed and pulls the blanket over the both of them. "I'm not leaving you."
It's so odd, seeing glimpses of the adult Judas behind the toddler in his arms. The fear of being abandoned, of being abandoned by Jesus in particular, is quintessentially Judas. He wonders what he will be like awake, running around and laughing like all children do. Will he gravitate towards the things he enjoys as an adult; will his favorite foods stay the same? Will he still love the color blue and will Peter and John still be his favorites (outside of Jesus, of course. Not that it matters who Judas prefers, that would be ridiculous). He wonders if not, if this child will be unrecognizable-will it feel more of a loss.
Jesus tucks a strand of blond hair behind a tiny ear, his heart clenching. He doesn’t want Judas as a child, he wants him big and strong and normal.
Judas would hate this, being dependent on another. He would hate being a child.