"Why can't I come?" After it had been asked for the hundredth time, he'd begun to become bored of answering that particular question.
"Because it's Mummy and Daddy night," 15 years ago, he would have snapped by now, but 3 children and a mother who was developing dementia had improved his patience greatly.
"But why can't I come?" He'd run out of ways to explain it and quite frankly, if she kept it up, by the time he'd managed to get her to brush her teeth, he'd be too tired to go out anyway.
"DAD! DAD!"
"JUST A MINUTE SAM!" He called down the stairs, before returning his attention to his youngest child. "Come on, teeth," He handed her the brush and she began the task.
"Why can't I come?" He marvelled at how she still managed to talk, even though he'd purposefully given her a larger size toothbrush than normal, hoping it would fill her mouth and silence her for a few minutes. Foamy toothpaste escaped out of her lips and he quickly wiped it from her chin before it had the chance to drip onto her pyjamas.
"Because it's just Mummy and Daddy," He explained slowly. "We haven't had a just Mummy and Daddy night in a long time, so we thought we deserved one,"
"That's a lie," She leaned on her tiptoes and spat out any remaining foam. "You went out last week,"
"To your parents' evening,"
"So? You went out with just Mummy, so it was a just Mummy and Daddy night."
"That's...different. Poppy, bed."
"Mummy said I didn't have to go to bed, Mummy said I could meet the babysitter," He sighed and gave in. If they were paying the sitter, she may as well actually do some work, and getting Poppy into bed was most definitely hard labour.
"Fine." He grabbed his jacket off the banister, before following his little girl. "Are we ready?" He clapped his hands together as he entered the kitchen, attempting to get Nikki to hurry up.
"They've still got me on bloody hold," He couldn't fathom why she hadn't just left calling the bank until a different night; it wasn't like it was anything urgent, she just wanted to know if she could transfer everything into one account.
"DAD!" He pulled his jacket back off and turned around to face his son.
"What Sam?"
"Are we having the same babysitter as last time?"
"No,"
"Why not?"
"You know why not." The poor girl had had to phone them, asking them to come back early, after Sam had somehow managed to open a cupboard door in her face during a game of 'Nazi Hunters' (she wasn't aware this was the name that Sam had given the game), leaving her with a broken nose. Harry had previously tried to stress that such a game was inappropriate and after the incident he managed to wipe the history channel off the TV, just in case he saw attempted to watch anymore documentaries on violent historical events. He hoped to god Sam never saw any programs on nuclear warfare.
"Will she be nice?" Poppy was sat on the floor, with the dog in her lap, feeding it a semi-rotten apple. Harry hurried over and took it out of her hands, before whispering an apology to the gloomy looking pet and throwing the food in the bin. He noticed the glitter in the poor animal's fur and made note to remember to wash him down with the hose. He didn't even bother questioning where she had managed to find the mouldy fruit.
"Yes, Pops, she'll be nice." He began writing out a note for the girl that they had found through an advertisement in the paper. "Why don't you leave Buster alone for a bit?" She'd begun attempting to plait his fur, though was really only succeeding in knotting it together.
"He likes it."
"Dad, what if she's a cyborg?"
"A cyborg?" Harry raised an eyebrow and wondered, as he did frequently, where on earth his middle child's vivid imagination had come from.
"Yeah, she might laser us. And then, she'll cut us up with her hidden hand blade," Sam made a whirring noise and rotated his arm around. Harry was certain his son sounded too excited about the prospect of being murdered by a cyborg. "Then, she'll hide us in the closet and you'll..." He had begun to question whether Sam made up the little stories for fun or to scare Poppy or to frustrate him and Nikki. Harry had a feeling it was a mix between all three.
"Don't be stupid, Sam," Poppy scolded. "She's not a cryborg, she's crochet,"
"Croatian, Poppy," Her eldest brother, Jake, patted her hair, something he knew would wind her up. Sure enough, she flapped her arms about at his hand, attempting to hit him.
"Jake," Harry folded over the note he had written. Only his children could need 2 sides of a4 to explain everything about being looked after for less than 5 hours. "Can you look out for the babysitter?"
"Will do," The blonde haired boy sat down at the breakfast bar.
"I meant by the door, you're not adding anything to what I can already see, as we're now looking out the same window," Jake just shrugged, and quite frankly Harry was too tired to bother pressing the matter.
"Are you getting a babysitter?" Harry's mother wandered into the full room.
"Yes, Mum,"
"Why do you need a babysitter? I'm here all night; I can look after them,"
"No you can't," Poppy said bluntly. "You burnt down your kitchen. You can't look after us. Daddy said that you ne..." Before she could finish her sentence, Harry scooped her up and took her out of the room, placing her on the stairs.
"You can't say that, Pops,"
"Why not? You said it," He reminded himself that he needed to make sure the kids were completely out of earshot next time he discussed anything with Nikki.
"I know I said it, but you can't say it to Grandma,"
"Why not? It's the truth,"
"I know, but sometimes the truth hurts, so it's better not to say it directly to someone,"
"But you said to Mummy 'Grandma burned down her kitchen, so she can't look after my...my precious little children, because...because she'll kill them. And they'll be all black and crispy like...like when I tried to make pizza.' That's what you said to Mummy,"
"I don't think those were my exact words."
"Yes they were. You said Grandma can't look after us because she can't look after herself."
"Poppy! She's only in the next room,"
"But she already knows she's hopeless."
"Harry!" Nikki's voice called from the kitchen.
"Pops, go play with Buster." He left her before any more questions could arise and went to see what his wife wanted.
"Take over the phone; I need to finish getting ready,"
"You're not ready?" He looked at her in dismay.
"No, I'm not. Just take the phone,"
"Why do you have to do this now? Can't we just leave it until tomorrow?" He called after her as she shot upstairs.
"I've been on hold for 75 minutes; it won't be much longer now."
"Bloody woman." Harry muttered under his breath.
"Harry, why's it telling me to press the red button?" His mother called from the living room. "I press it and it just keeps turning the telly off,"
"Press the other red one, Mum," Harry called into the other room.
"Which other red one?"
"Jake, hold the phone. Tell me if you get put onto a real person," He made his way into where his mother was sat on the coach and took the remote from her hand. "Look, this button Mum," He pointed at the correct one; he presumed she had been pressing the power button.
"Oh, I didn't see that one,"
"You don't need to press it though,"
"But it's telling me I do, look," She pointed to the small box that had appeared in the right hand side of the screen.
"That's only if you want to look at extra stuff, the box will go away soon,"
"But it's telling me I need to press it. Look, 'Press red button now',"
"Mum, you don't need to press the red button. Ok?"
"What happens if I do press it?"
"The TV explodes!" Sam called from the kitchen.
"You get some silly extras, Mum. You don't need to press it. Ok?"
"Look, it says 'Press red button now for cast interviews',"
"Do you want to see interviews of Eastenders cast members?"
"Not particularly, I've never really liked the show myself, always thought it was a bit overly dramatic."
"Then you don't need to press the red button." He walked out of the room before he got embroiled in anymore technology related queries. "Has anyone answered yet?" Nikki had since returned and taken the phone from Jake. He nodded in reply to his father's question, as Nikki hadn't even heard it.
"No, don't you dare end that sentence with I'll pass you onto another department. No, I'll stab myself. No, I won't stab you. I'm not threatening an employee with abuse. No, I'm going to stab myself. Me! Stab myself! Oh, you're going to pass me on. Thanks. Thank you so much. You've been great. Hello, prick. Yes, you can help me today, how about actually manning your call centres, it would be greatly appreciated,"
"Nikki!" He laughed at the thought of a poor man sat hunched over a desk, with Nikki's shouting booming in his ear.
"Don't worry; it's another bloody automated thing,"
"SAM!" Harry rushed to see what had caused Poppy's scream. "DAD! MUM!"
"YOU CAN'T BEAT ME EVIL CYBORG!"
"PUT THE PILLOW DOWN, SAM!" Harry ended up having to drag his youngest son away. "Bed. Now."
"I'm waiting for the babysitter. I was just practicing cyborg defence skills."
"I don't care what you were doing; now you're going to bed."
"No I'm not."
"You are."
"MUM! DAD'S PICKING ON ME!"
"HE'S ALLOWED TO!" Nikki called from the kitchen.
"Samuel. Bed."
"Sir Corporal Captain Colonel Cyborg Crusher."
"Sir Corporal Captain Colonel? Really?" How many titles did the boy want?
"Yes." Sam puffed out his chest and stood with his hands on his hips. If Harry hadn't been so frustrated, he would have probably burst out laughing.
"Bed." His feet plodded up the stairs, with Harry close behind him, holding Poppy in his arms.
"Niks," It had taken him 15 minutes to get Sam to lie down and turn his light off, then he had to spend another half hour reading a story to Poppy. "We're already an hour late for our reservation,"
"Can we just cancel?"
"My thoughts exactly."
"Has the babysitter turned up?"
"I don't think so,"
"Word probably got round that she'd end up in casualty if she came,"
"There's pizza in the freezer,"
"You can't cook it," She stuck her tongue out at him, before turning the oven on.
"I burnt it once! Once!"
"One time too many,"
"What's the music coming from?" She nodded towards the countertop, where the phone lay. "You're still on hold?"
"Yes,"
"Where's Mum?"
"Bed,"
"Jake?"
"Bed,"
"You look beautiful," He smiled at her and poured out some wine.
"You look tired,"
"You're so good at flattery," She grinned and kissed him lightly, before wiping something off his shirt. "What was that?"
"Toothpaste."
"Great." She giggled and kissed him again, allowing it to last longer than before.
"You taste onion-y," She observed as she pulled away slightly.
"You're just full of compliments today, aren't you?"
"When have you found the time to eat onions?"
"I had a packet of crisps,"
"You could have used some toothpaste on your actual teeth instead of spilling it all down yourself. It might have made it easier for me to pretend I enjoyed kissing you,"
"You're so funny!" He leant back against the counter, as he watched her flitting about trying to find salad dressing.
"Balsamic or Caesar?"
"Do I have to have salad?" He moaned, in a very similar fashion to all three of his children.
"Yes, because big boys need salad to keep them fit and strong!" She tugged at his cheek teasingly.
"You have 3 children upstairs if you want someone to patronise."
"But it's so much more fun with you!"
"I'm picking the DVD." He ran into the living room before she had a chance to argue with him.
"Harry!" She sprinted after him.
"Shush!" He laughed and placed a finger on her lips. "You'll wake the children." He leant down and kissed her, attempting to pull her down onto the coach, but she pulled away. He wondered if she'd stop being stronger than him if he cancelled her gym membership.
"You can pick." She finally said begrudgingly. "But I am not watching 'Where Eagles Dare' again." She spun round on her heels and returned to the kitchen. "I have to go to the shops tomorrow; Sam's ripped his trousers. Do you need anything?"
"He's ripped them again?"
"Yes,"
"How many is that this term?"
"Ninth, without counting the shorts he split last week."
"What the hell does he do?"
"I have no idea." She bent down to check the pizza, a view which Harry very much enjoyed. "Do you need anything?"
"I could do with some more socks." She raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You're worse than Sam." She giggled.
"How?"
"I bought you 6 pairs last week."
"No you didn't,"
"I did. I was in Marks and Spencer and they were on buy one get one free. I remember."
"You didn't!"
"I did!" She pointed at his feet. "You've got a pair of them on!"
"These are ones I bought at Christmas!"
"They're not, I got them last week!"
"Look at the label!"
"Socks don't have labels, idiot," She'd gone a funny shade of red. "Why am I always fighting an uphill battle? I bought those socks for you last week."
He let the corners of his mouth curl upwards and allowed his teeth to peep out from behind his lips. "You look hot when you're angry," He stood behind her and wrapped his arms tightly around her miniature waist.
"Don't start being nice now."
"If I say you bought the socks, even though it's clearly a lie, will you smile?"
"It's not a lie!"
"You bought the socks." He placed a delicate kiss on her neck, taking in the raspberry scent of her shampoo, mixed with her perfume; after a long day at work or a weekend away at a conference, it was that smell that he found himself missing most. "I don't need new socks, because you bought me 6 pairs last week."
"Get off me or the pizza will burn,"
"I'm not that hungry anymore," He proceeded to plant more kisses on her, slowly making his way down to her shoulders. "Are you hungry?"
"I wish I could say no." She giggled at his face when she pulled away from him. "I haven't eaten since breakfast, Harry,"
"."
"The amount I'm attracted to you decreases every time you whine like that."
"You used to find me irresistible!" He let his head drop onto the table dramatically as he sat down.
"Move," She demanded, before placing a large bowl of salad and the pizza in the middle of the table.
"Wow," He still refused to wait until he was finished eating to speak, no matter how much she nagged him about it. "How did you make this pizza? Did it involve some of those technical cookery skills you've been honing?"
"Shut your face and eat." Last summer, she had taken a course at the local Open University called 'Techincal Cooking'. Quite honestly, it was a failure and her skills still only stretched as far as bolognaise. "Harry?" He looked up from his plate, with a string of cheese dangling from his chin. "Were you just humming along with the hold music?"
"No?"
"You were!" He didn't understand why she found it so hysterical; the crap had been playing over and over for the past 20 minutes, it was only natural for it to get stuck in his head. She heard him mumble something about 'It's their fault for not answering the bloody thing,' before returning to shovelling forkfuls of food into his mouth.
"Harry, sing it again for me." He refused to look up from his food. "Stop being in a strop,"
"I'm not," He mumbled through a mouthful of pizza.
"Harry," She smiled at his childishness. "Look at me, Harry."
"It's just a really catchy tune, ok?" He snapped his head up.
"I love you."
"You're only saying that because you don't want me to force you to watch Where Eagles Dare as a punishment for being so horrible,"
"Very true."
I like the idea of Harry and Nikki being together, but not being lovey dovey and all touchy feely cheesey around each other all the time, even if they are a couple. I'd like to think they'd still torment each other. Also, if there are any mistakes/errors, forgive me. I really am far too lazy to proof read 2000 words.