Odes to Our Esteemed Captain and His Most Divine Leftenant

Summary: My first attempt at Sleepy Hollow fanfiction, just in time for Sleepy Holloween Week 2014! All Ichabbie, all the time. Flashbacks, tender moments, and compromising situations, wrapped in maudlin songs and sappy lavender prose for your reading pleasure. Various and sundry plots, settings, and characters. Rated T/M.

Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me, although I'd quit my job for the opportunity to join the Sleepywriters. (Not really. Depends on the pay. And what my husband says, which would likely be "Have you taken leave of your sense?") Veteran of many fandoms, but this is my first Sleepyfic, so be nice to me.

Rating: T

Day 1: Just a Dream

(Prompt: Family)

The only part of his daughter's face that unmistakably belonged to her mother was Lucy's big brown doe eyes.

The rest of Lucy Abigail Crane was a blend of them both, from her golden skin to her bronze corkscrew curls to her full petulant lips. At seven, she was the center of Ichabod's existence, the reason why he never wanted to teach more than a course or two at a time at the local university. The rest of it he spent at home in the cabin they shared, watching over his precious girl while writing yet another book in his bestselling Real History series.

It was easiest this way, and their lives had fallen into a comfortable rhythm once Lucy started school. Ichabod was the parent who did the school visits, who was the one on call to pick Lucy up in the afternoons, and who sat with her in front of the fireplace during the evenings when Abbie was working and away from them both.

The only thing he hadn't yet been able to get their daughter to do was fall asleep when Abbie was not yet home. It was as if she'd picked up her father's habit of watchfulness, playing quietly in the glow of the hearthfire, small ears that were the perfect blend of Ichabod-and-Abbie perking up any time she heard a sound that even slightly resembled the traction of tires.

But Lucy wasn't listening just then. Just then, she'd asked her father a question, and Ichabod wasn't quite sure how to answer.

"Why do you have such a funny name, Daddy?"

Ichabod had grown pretty inured to the people of this time incessantly making fun of his name. Why, Ichabod was a perfectly reasonable name, compared to some of the inanity that modern people called their children. After all, Blue was a color, and Apple was a fruit, for heaven's sake.

"It's a name from the Bible, love," he explained patiently, settling his daughter on his knee and marveling at how big his moppet was getting. Wasn't she just in swaddling clothes (or whatever Abbie called the contraptions - onesies or twosies or some other frippery) just a few months before?

Lucy shook her head, bouncing her curls about her shoulders. "But my friend said your name isn't even a word." Frown. "Why did your mother and father name you that?"

"During the time when I was born, my dear, many people named their children using the Bible. Often, that Bible was the only book they had in the home." Although that wasn't exactly the case for the aristocratic Cranes, Ichabod thought but did not say.

"Wow, they didn't have computers or cell phones back then, did they?"

"No, they did not," was his reply, the corners of his mouth turning up with amusement.

"Well, Mommy was born back then too, and her name is pretty."

Everything about your mother is "pretty," thought Ichabod. Perfection, actually… and although you're a blend of us both, I daresay that will be true of you when you are a woman grown. I shall have to keep my shotgun at the ready to fend off unworthy youthful swains…

That is, if Abbie is reasonable and lets me do what a proper father must when it comes to potential suitors. Alas, I am certain my beloved wife will likely stay my hand in this matter.

He missed Abbie for the hundredth time that day. Then he looked down at Lucy's eyes, and his heart warmed.

"Your mother did not have the misfortune of being born in my ill-begotten time," smiled Ichabod. "I am much her elder."

"Just like me," said Lucy, her voice showing her wonder. "I'm going to be a big sister, you know."

Ichabod's arms closed around his little daughter as he held her close. "Yes, love, I know. You will be in… about five months now."

They had decided to wait a while to tell Lucy about the new little sibling that would soon be added to their family. But their girl had been the first person they'd told, before Jenny or Irving or any of their other family and friends. For a few months, though, the knowledge of the baby was theirs… and theirs alone.

They'd hold each other at night, Ichabod's caressing hand on Abbie's softly rounded middle, looking into each other's eyes…

You have the most comely eyes, my divine Abigail, he would breathe after a while, in awe of the dark angel he had to cross time and space to meet. Meeting Abbie, intertwining his fate with hers, and joining their lives together had completed his very soul.

Nah. I kinda hope he has eyes like yours, Abbie would whisper back.

I would have you know there is nothing especial about my eyes, madam, he teased.

See, you always say that, but I disagree. I love your eyes. They're eyes you can swim in. Eyes you can drown in. Eyes that can bring me back to life with just once glance. So yes… I want him to have his father's eyes.

Looking down at their daughter cradled against his chest, Ichabod begged to differ with her. For what other color was there for eyes than the warmest of brown?

Lucy closed those brown eyes with a smile.

"I love you, Daddy."

"And I adore you, my Lucy," came his reply, as he closed his eyes too. Neither of them would fall asleep until Abbie's arrival, of course, but it would be nice to just rest… just for a moment…

~sleepy~sleepy~sleepy~

"Crane?"

Ichabod opened his eyes. The warmth of the fireplace had been replaced by cooling ashes, and he cursed himself for not banking it before drifting off.

But where had Lucy gone? She wasn't on his lap any longer, and there was no sign of her down on the hearthrug. Ichabod blinked in confusion.

"Hey." Abbie came around to the back of Ichabod's chair to squeeze his shoulder. "Everything all right?"

He was going to confess that he was completely disoriented. Had she carried their daughter to bed, despite his admonishments about her condition?

"Ichabod, what's going on?"

He didn't reply. In a single swift motion, he pulled her down to sit on his lap, and covered his mouth with hers. Abbie seemed surprised at first, but her lips immediately melted beneath his, and parted to grant his seeking tongue access. Her hands clutched his collar, and he only broke their kiss long enough to press lips against her nose.

"What's this all about?"

"You had no need to carry our daughter to bed, darling. You only had need of arousing me to wakefulness."

Her response was to tongue the pulse at the base of his exposed neck. "Well, I think we've established over the past two months how much I enjoy arousing you awake, Crane… but what daughter are you talking about?" She drew back with a frown. "Those Sidhe demons haven't returned here again, have they?"

Head shake. "Of course not. I suppose I was dreaming, that's all."

Ichabod felt a rush of shame as their current situation came back to him. While his partner, fellow Witness, and dearest love had been at the police station, retrieving a report about the latest apocalyptic activity in Sleepy Hollow, Ichabod was supposed to have been conducting research on the legendary Sidhe, fairies that had fallen to evil and were now working with Moloch, the Horsemen, and his own son to bring about the End of Days.

And yet, Ichabod had fallen asleep on the job. So much for pulling my weight on this team…

His embarrassed thoughts were interrupted by the return of Abbie's lips as she opened his shirt with newly experienced fingers, pressing slow kisses from his Adam's apple to his navel.

"What's all this, Leftenant?" he teased. "Do you mean to say that you're actually rewarding me for falling asleep at the switch?"

Abbie looked up at him with a naughty expression on her lovely face.

"I am rewarding you, Crane, for dreaming about our future." One hand came up to stroke the side of his face as he ran his fingers through her hair. "I love that you dream about a future with me."

"Indeed. For I came to this future for only one reason, Grace Abigail Mills… to find you."

"But you left so much behind," she breathed, perhaps for the thousandth time. "Everything and everyone you knew. Your friends. Your home. Your family."

Ichabod's answer was not in words, but that night, he made sure that Abbie had her answer.

You are my best friend.

You are my home.

You are my family.

~the end~

A/N: First-ever completed Sleepy Hollow fic. HAPPY SLEEPY HOLLOWEEN WEEK!

-Dr. Holland