My second Whouffaldi fic, sequel to Mr and Mrs Smith

Spying Runs In The Family

Chapter 1

Clara opened her eyes at the din that was coming from the next room. Sighing, she climbed out of bed and padded over to infant in the cot, crying.

She picked him up and rocked him against her chest, trying to soothe him back into sleep. Pacing the room, she was vaguely aware that it had been the second time she had gotten out of bed. At least she had gotten four hours, she thought, patting the boy's back and trying to lull him back to sleep, to no avail.

She carried him out and slid back into bed with him, holding him close and stroking the thin wisps of hair on his tiny head. It was hard for her to get back to sleep after being woken up, and she knew that she would be woken up early by the same noise.

'Shhh, it's okay,' she whispered, finally succeeding in sending him off to sleep.

She looked over to where John was sleeping, unperturbed and oblivious. His wild hair had grown unruly and even crazier, and she made a mental note to remind him to get a haircut.

After just over a year of being normal, and everything was just as she had hoped. John had become a doctor, she had become a mother and they now ate dinner every night.

Which couldn't have been the reason to why she was feeling uneasy lately. She didn't know how to describe it and she hadn't told John about it.

Rolling on to her side, carefully placing David between them, she told herself that there was nothing wrong with the life she was leading. Watching her two boys sleeping made her feel a lot safer and at peace. They were the most beautiful people in existence to her, and watching them now slowly eradicated the uneasiness. She reached over to hold onto John's hand, and let her eyes drop, forcing herself to go back to sleep.

••••

John's eyes opened, a ray of light shining weakly on his face. He focused on the first solid thing he saw, which was Clara. He smiled, his sense of touch returning to him and realising she was holding his hand. He held on tighter, kissing it and staring at her beautiful face. He didn't know what he had done to deserve such a person.

He looked at the bundle between them, his tiny eyes closed and his mouth slightly parted. Clara must have brought him to their bed because he was making too much noise.

He lightly kissed his forehead, smiling at him with unmistakable love.

Clara wasn't joking when she said he wouldn't cope, and she was right, but even he admitted he was doing okay. He glanced at the alarm clock, sighing. His moment was short-lived. He reluctantly unclasped his hand from hers and got up from the comfortable bed. Stretching, he walked over to the wardrobe and set out his shirt and tie.

He glanced at the two wrapped up in the blankets and he felt unconditional love for both of them. He knew he would always love them. It put a twinkle in his eye and a tender smile on his face.

He shrugged on his jacket and and tightened his tie, knowing it would be a busy day. A groan came from behind him, and he turned round to see Clara shifting restlessly. She sat up on her elbows, sighing exasperatedly but smiling sleepily at him despite, hair in her eyes.

'You look like you had a nice sleep.'

'Compared to other nights, yeah. Which still isn't enough.'

He chuckled. 'It never is.'

'I don't get how you sleep through it.'

'Sometimes I don't, I'm just too lazy.'

'And you've never bothered to tell me that, before? Do you know how tired I am every night?'

'Clara, Clara, don't get in a twist when you've just woken up.'

'I'm just tired, John.' She said, exasperated.

'I can see that. Don't worry, I'll let you sleep this evening.'

'Off so soon?'

'It is 7 o'clock.'

'Already? I really didn't get much sleep.'

He smirked, and she crawled up to him to ruffle his hair once again.

'It's getting wilder. You need a haircut.'

He just let her play around with his hair now, he knew he couldn't stop her anyway.

'Have a nice day.' She whispered.

'You too.'

She kissed him goodbye and he walked down the stairs, grabbing a tangerine and setting off to work.

He had gotten used to the domesticity of normal life, and it was a lot harder than he expected, especially with a son. But nothing stopped him from feeling relief every day at being safe and keeping them safe. He carried that relief when he got the bus to the hospital and when he treated his patients; he carried it when he had lunch, when he washed his hands, when he set off back home. He carried it everywhere. It was one of the things he like about being normal.