(no subject)
Title: crazy little thing called love
Rating: G
Word Count: 984
A/N This is quite possibly the single most fluffy thing I have ever written. Kind of prompted by mythiefmytardiswho was all "WHHEEEE I AM WRITING BABIES!FIC AND YOU SHOULD TOO" and then this happened. Also, I will award one billion kudos points to whoever figures out where the names are from.
Karen surfaces slowly, her eyes blinking in the light; someone’s opened the curtains, and late-morning sunlight is streaming in through the bay window. She turns over, expecting to pull the duvet up to her hair and fall straight back to sleep - but there’s somebody standing at her bedside, staring at her with huge and utterly serious eyes.
She tries to pretend she hasn’t seen who’s standing there, and shuts her eyes quickly; for a while, all she can hear is her own steady breathing, and another, slightly shorter, set of breaths. Then there’s a small commotion outside her door and - without a word being said by anyone - two sets of footsteps pad across the carpet to join the bedisde vigil. Karen refuses to let on that she’s awake, though - somehow, she still genuinely believes they might fo away again if she’s just quiet enough.
No such luick, though; barely a minute later the whispering starts.
“Can I get in the bed?”
“No! Daddy says to leave her.”
“Can I cuddle reeeeaaally quietly?”
“No, we should leave her sleeping.”
“SHhhhh! You’re waking her up!”
“I’m going to shut the curtains then.”
“No, don’t, the light will let her wake up nat’rally.”
“Well I’M going to help Daddy.”
“Shhh! Be quiet! Botrh of you!”
“Wiat - look - !”
Ah. Karen thought she could get away with shifting her head slightly, it’s been digging into her neck, but even this smallest of movements has been noted and pounced on.
“Mummy! You’re awake!”
“Mum!”
“Good morning Mummy!”
Three small, round, slightly-sticky faces beam at her when she opens her eyes, and Karen softens, sighing slightly.
“Come on, then,” she sighs, scooting over into the middle of the double bed. “But no wriggling.”
Three small bodies jump onto the bed; Luke clambers over her to reach the free space on Matt’s side of the bed, while Laura and Lester squirm their way into the curves of the space between her shoulder and her feet.
Karen curls an arm around Luke, and he grins happily; he acts big, sure, all eight years of him, but in his penguin pyjamas that match the others’, and cuddled up to her arm like he is now, she’s reminded of the tinyness of him, the way he fit in the space between Matt’s elbow and fingers when they first brought him home, his first smile, the first time he called her ‘mama,’ the first time he mastered the rocking horse in the playground down the road.
Then Lester’s foot jabs her in the kidneys, and she’s drawn out of her reverie.
“Ouch! Laura, make space for your brother, he’s only small.”
“But Mum, that’s not fair, I was here first…”
“Only because! Only because you didn’t tell me that you were going in the bedroom!” Lester is indignant; he’s been The Baby for so long that it’s taking his big brother and (especially) sister a while to get used to him having something of his own to say, too. Well, he is only three - and a half, as he will constantly remind both Karen and Matt whenever they get it wrong. “And, and and then because I was in my bed and you didn’t open it and that’s not very nice!”
“Well, you should stay in bed, Lester,” Laura tells him primly, already soudning more grown-up than Luke; she’s seven and old for her age, always showing off whatever new thing she’s learned in school or putting on a show and forcing the boys to join it; of all her kids, Karen thinks Laura might be the one to act. “You’re only little, you’re supposed to wait until Mummy or Daddy get you.”
Luke pipes up. “Or me! Right, Mum? I’m big, I’m allowed to let Lester out in the mornings now when you want to sleep, you said so.”
“Yeah, sure, Luke,” Karen mumbles into the pillow. Some quiet cuddling time is, apparently, no longer an option.
____
“Kids! Kaz, I’m sorry, I told them to let you sleep…” Matt is in the doorway, the baby blanaced on his hip and an apron tied around his waist. The open door has let in a waft of frying smells - bacon, tomatoes, eggs, mushrooms, coffee, god, she loves him - and his cheek is slightly smudged with what looks like a bit of the baby’s cereal.
Karen grins at Matt tiredly from the bed; she’s somehow ended up with a paper crown rammed over her hair, Luke is poking his head out from inside the duvet cover, and Laura and Lester are sprawled across the whole bed, their faces nuzzled into either side of Karen’s neck and their limbs clutching at her from ever angle.
“S’okay…” Karen laughs then, managing to pat Laura and Lester on the head and using her knee to give Luke a friendly kick to the shoulder. “We’re having fun.”
Matt grins, holding the baby close to him and staring down at the picture of bliss - of family - that Karen and the three monsters in penguin pyjamas have made. God, he loves them.
“Daddy!” The baby interrupts the moment then, hitting him sharply in the cheek with her chubby one-year-old’s fist. “Hungry! Breakfast!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he jiggles her on his hip, poking her nose and smiling at her giggles. “C’mon, you three, give Mummy a second and help me set the table.”
“Yeah! Big Sunday Breakifast?” Luke is out of the duvet cover and standing at Matt’s side in an instant.
“Big Sunday Breakfast,” Matt confirms, and that’s enough to propel Laura and Lester out of bed too. He shoos them all outside, giving Luke the baby and turning quickly to Karen. ”Okay?”
“Okay,” Karen sits up slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Gimme five minutes, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Matt grins before he closes the door behind him. God, he loves her.