Disclaimer: I don't own anything here, but I have read story books to toddlers.
A/N: written for cookie-moi and anyone else who wants to read this.
Sleeping Angel
.
It was no good; Ellie couldn't keep her eyes open no matter how hard she tried. And she had been trying, very hard. The last thing she wanted was to leave Fred in Hardy's care.
All he'd done was forget Fred's name, grumble about becoming an unpaid babysitter, and more than mildly hint that perhaps her baby would be better off seeing his Auntie Lucy. Like hell he would! There was no way she would let her sister Lucy influence Fred in any shape or form if she could help it. So the matter was closed: Fred would stay with her while she tried to sort through Hardy's case file. End of.
Except her eyelids were gradually falling and her concentration wandering onto thoughts of warmth, contentment and sleep, glorious sleep. In seconds her head dipped forward onto the papers in front of her on the table, and her mind took a welcome holiday in the land of nod.
Who knew how long she had been out of it, but she woke to the sound of giggling and Hardy's low melodious tones filling the chalet. Worried at what she might see when she turned her head; Ellie risked opening an eye and looked to where her youngest son had been sitting when she had last seen him, on Hardy's lumpy excuse for a sofa.
Fred wasn't there. Horror instantly filled her senses despite being able to hear him. Thoughts like 'had he fallen', 'was there blood', 'what was Hardy playing at', and 'where the hell was he', filled her mind. But she needn't have worried, because sitting quite calmly on the floor together were Hardy and Fred.
Within his hands, Hardy held a cherished story book that had folded over corners and a grubbiness only much loved books could ever accumulate. He was reading the story to Fred, who listened with deep concentration as Hardy gave each character a different and distinctive voice. Even at the funny bits, Hardy continued with confidence; and a satisfied smile appeared on his face when Fred appropriately giggled. So pleased was he that he even risked adding in a tickle that made Fred laugh even louder.
Ellie couldn't stop the grin that appeared on her face. Who knew that such a grumpy old sod like Hardy could enjoy reading a book to a toddler? It certainly wouldn't have been her. But should she admit she had seen them, as the book was placed on the floor beside them, and building blocks picked up as a distraction instead. Best not to, she decided. The old goat would only deny it, after all. And she didn't want to harm the budding relationship she could see forming between them.
But she had to suddenly hide her face behind her hands when Fred impulsively reached up to touch Hardy's cheek, declaring in his childish innocence, "Love you, Uncle Alec."
"And I'm very fond of you, erm… wee Fred," Hardy had quietly blustered in reply. "Shall we make a castle?"
Yes, it really was best that she pretend she hadn't heard that one. He'd be mortified that she could almost hear the blush in his voice. So instead she lifted her head whilst asking, "Fred! Have you stolen my son?"
"He's here, Miller," Hardy informed her, moving away from the toddler with as much haste as he could muster. "Safe on the floor."
"Hello, darling," she crooned towards Fred. "That's not you, Hardy," she harshly tacked on.
"Didn't even cross my mind," he retorted, easing himself onto a chair. "I have been having some ideas though."
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Will I like them?"
His usual scowl appeared. "About the case…."
And their conversation, as usual, returned to the Sandbrook case; the interlude with Fred completely forgotten. For now.