It has been a long time since Helen has needed to play nanny, and she finds herself, perhaps bizarrely, thrilled to shoo Henry and Erica off for some alone time, and to take some of her own time to coo over the infant who may as well be her own flesh-and-blood grandchild. Cross-legged on the bed, she blows raspberries into the air and pinches tiny toes, heart all aflutter when the chubby baby squeals his delight.
"Euugh… Isn't there someone else around to watch Heinrich Junior?"
Helen doesn't bother looking up when the bedroom door opens and closes behind him. "Henry and Erica are having a well-deserved - "
"Mm, a date, yes, yes, I know, but I'm sure you have better things to do than watch the miniature furball. Like - oh, I don't know - "
"Don't be obnoxious, Nikki," she retorts, but her tone is no more scolding than Nikola's is derogatory. In fact, he's crossed the distance to the bed in his usual lackadaisical stroll, and when he seats himself behind her, peering over her shoulder at the sloppily grinning boy, she leans back into him. His lips first meet her temple, then her mouth as his arms slip around her waist. "Isn't he handsome?"
"Tiny humans were never really my thin - "
"Don't be difficult."
"Most strapping young lad I've seen," he corrects, and is rewarded with a more lingering kiss. "The resemblance to Heinrich is astounding. The spittle there really completes the picture, don't you think?"
Her laugh, while quiet, is uninhibited. She wiggles away from him, leaning forward to lift her cooing grandson from the bed and, turning, places him gently in Nikola's arms. Even Nikola cannot refuse an infant thrust against his chest. "He'll likely worship you. Henry does."
"I never deny worshipers," he replies in a drawl.
Helen's smiling against his arm, curled up against his side with her arms around his torso. "Of course, he already likes you," she adds as she turns her head to rest her temple against his shoulder, grinning as one tiny hand stretches upward, reaching for Nikola's face.
"Who doesn't?" With his lips pulled under to cover his teeth, he nibbles at outstretched fingers. He looks comically pleased when he turns his head toward Helen as little Alistair unleashes another pealing laugh, and she can do nothing but smile, pressing herself as close to him as space allows.