Bliss
He checked his diary on his phone for the next day. The meeting with the PM had almost taken four hours and his eyes were burning from staring at the screen all day. Mycroft was sitting in his car on Thursday evening at half past seven. He made sure not to come home much later these days. For the first time in over 15 years, he left his office early. Letting his phone disappear inside his jacket pocket, he looked out of the window. It was raining, it had been pouring all day. And it was way too cold for June. Not that he minded the temperature very much. But he knew at least two people who did.
The car glided to a stop in front of his town house and he stepped out, opening his umbrella in the process. His eyes fell to the windows and he stopped briefly, enjoying the warm feeling that was spreading inside of him. The lights in the kitchen and in the living room were still on.
Mycroft smiled.
After leaving his coat and his umbrella in the corridor, he followed the soothing voice, singing lullabies. When he entered the living room, his wife was sitting on the sofa, the red-faced bundle in her arms. It must have stopped crying only minutes ago. Mycroft leant against the door frame with his hands burrowed in his pockets, watching. She looked tired, exhausted in fact. But still beautiful in her crimson dress and grey cardigan, her hair behind her ears. Her eyes were fixed on their daughter, giving her the most gentle look. That sort of look only a mother was capable of showing. He kept still, not wanting to disturb the adorable scene. But then she turned her head, noticing him.
"Hey", Clara smiled despite the weariness upon her face and Mycroft moved towards them, sitting next to her on the sofa. She leant her head against his shoulder immediately, letting out a heavy sigh. "She's been crying all day", Clara murmered, her voice just as tired as her expression. "She's just stopped a few minutes ago". Mycroft gently stroke her hair, looking at his daughter, sleeping in her mother's arms.
"It's almost like she wants to impress you", Clara added and he smiled.
"Right now, I am rather impressed by you". He kissed his wife's forehead and carefully took the sleeping baby in his arms.
"I will put her to bed tonight. Go to sleep, you need it".
"Have you had something for dinner already?", she asked, still willing to prepare something for him. Mycroft slowly extended his left hand, the other holding his daughter to his chest safely. He gently cupped Clara's cheek in affection.
"I will manage", he replied. "Go to bed. I will be with you in a minute".
"Okay".
He carried his daughter up to her bedroom, right next to theirs. She was only seven months old and Clara was still on maternity leave. Mycroft was doing his best to come home early enough to put the baby to bed at least when his wife was doing the rest of the work. Furthermore he took the week-ends off. Clara and him had made an agreement when they had first learnt about her pregnancy: he would cut back at work. Slowly but constantly. And Mycroft would stick to it. His daughter needed her father and his wife needed her husband. England still needed him, too but he had to be replaceable. His family had top priority. It had been a logical decision he ahd made at the very start. Once he had a family there would be no going back. It would change his life forever and it was. And he liked it.
He switched on the nightlight and the room was enlighted by stars dancing across the walls in a circular motion. It had been Clara's idea just like the small planets hanging over the baby crip. She had once pointed out that their daughter would maybe become an astronaut one day but he wasn't sure if he liked that thought. Wasn't it enough that his wife had already travelled through space?Mycroft bowed and carefully laid her down, certain not to make any noises. The little girl was sleeping soundly, the brown eyes, so similar to her mother's closed. He let the back of his fingers softly caressing the petite cheek with the greatest endearment. Mycroft had never known what people were talking about when they called their child a "wonder". He still refused to call his daughter like this but somehow he understood what they wanted to express through the term. It was a feeling. It was new and astonishing. A fondness so special like you could only feel it for your child. It was a mixture of the need to protect her and the greatest love he had ever felt. Mycroft had come across such a feeling in the past about his little brother. The urgent feeling to protect Sherlock had dictated his life for a long time, it still did. It was familiar, and yet completely different with his daughter. It was stronger, absolute.
Mycroft watched the baby for a few more seconds, unable to move his eyes away. - She was fine. She was healthy. She was safe.
"Goodnight, Ariadne", he whispered gently before he left the room and closed the door behind him silently.
He found Clara already asleep in bed when he entered their bedroom. She had left the bedside lamp switched on, willing to wait for making a sound he sat down on the armchair close to the door and took off his shoes. When he tiptoed in the direction of the bathroom, he heard her voice, dripping with sleep: "Still awake. Don't worry". The corner of his mouth twitched.
"I won't, then".
Mycroft set his shoes down and sat next to her on the edge of the bed. She was laying on her side and turned onto her back to face him. "Busy day?", she asked, her hand stroking his arm.
"Not much more busy than yours".
"Meeting with the PM, then?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"About four hours."
"Oh."
"Mmh" He smiled at her and she did her best to do the same through the fog of weariness. "Are you all right?", he asked, unable to help himself. Clara hummed softly in agreement, her eyes falling closed even though she was fighting it. "Are you?", she asked, suppressing a yawning.
"Of course", he replied and got up. It was time to let her sleep. "Don't wait for me. Sleep well.", he added and disappeared into the bathroom through the connecting door.
When he joined her under the covers a few minutes later, he could tell by the sound of her breathing that she was still balancing on the edge of sleep, holding it off as long as she could.
Mycroft took her into his arms, her back to his chest and kissed her shoulder. "Why are you doing this to yourself, love?", he asked as he began to feel his own fatigue. She shrugged slightly in response. "Have no idea what you're talking about."
She turned in his arms, resting her head against his chest with a deep sigh. "Is there something you want to tell me?", he asked not sure if something was up. Clara gave a soft hum and shook her head once. "I love you", she muttered so quietly it was almost misheard.
He placed a kiss on top of her head and closed his eyes, wondering if there was a comparison for the word happiness.