For Lora: Paul, Michael, Robbie-ness, as requested.
One sunny day Michael woke up at ten-past-two to an empty bed (Paul must still be at class) and to the jingling of the baby's ankle bell which meant that Robbie's nap (and, thus, Michael's) was over.
Argh.
Michael rolled over and cracked open one eye; a close-up crimson eye glared at him. He backed up reflexively before he recognized the demon-bunny fuzzy slippers Pete had given Paul last Christmas. Why were they on the bed? He was sure he'd left them on the floor. Mostly sure. Even if he'd fallen asleep with them on, why were they by his head? He'd blame the baby but Robbie was still at the two-steps-and-drop stage, and anyway he couldn't get out of his crib without help. Yet. Why wasn't Paul home?
Michael had a fuzzy moment, and then he was in the hall, trying to open the already-open door to the linen closet. Oops. He spun on his heel and went further down, to Robbie's room. The baby was awake, chewing on the leg of his strawberry-patterned bunny and, when Michael walked in, Robbie beamed at him and waved the bunny by one damp limb. Michael obediently took the bunny, kissed it between the ears and solemnly handed it back to Robbie, who jammed the leg into his mouth again, cheeks appled with mirth.
"Grumph," Michael said, and made the sign for "morning". Robbie waved his arms for a moment, then clearly laid one arm over his abdomen and, raising his free arm to his forhead and curling the chubby fingers, drew them down below the line of his arm. Evening. The bunny dangled by Robbie's neck.
Michael blinked. "Evening? Well, afternoon, but good enough!" He scooped Robbie up and kissed his forehead, both cheeks, his temple. He eased Robbie far enough away for eye contact, and said "Good boy!"
Robbie took the bunny out of his mouth and draped it damply along Michael's neck so he could snuggle more effectively, nuzzling. Michael rubbed his cheek against Robbie's and meandered into the living room, walked round it twice, then into the kitchen. Robbie was twitching the bunny's leg against Michael's neck, and it was getting cold. Robbie's sock-pajamas were baby-duck-yellow and soft; they'd been Shannon's. Michael opened the fridge, and set Robbie lightly on the fridge door, hands securely around the baby's torso. Robbie crinkled his eyes and swung his legs.
"You clearly need caffeine," Paul said. Michael turned his head; Robbie's fuzzy-yellow-clad toes brushed his temple. Michael hoisted the baby against his hip with one arm and closed the fridge. Paul set his keys on the keyring and came over, his denim skirt swishing about his legs. He leaned in to place a tiny kiss on Michael's mouth, then stole Robbie to smother him with nuzzles. Robbie slung the bunny-laden arm around Paul's neck and snagged a handful of Michael's coppery hair with the other.
Paul snickered. "Guess you aren't going anywhere."
Michael blinked, still sleepy, and rested his head against Paul's. "No," he agreed.
END