bDisclaimer:/b Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, children who never sleep belong to me.
bSummary:/b Another married fic, low schmoop level :)
bAuthor Notes:/b Written for the 54th weekly drabble challenge at lj user="doctor_donna" prompt word bflashback/b
With thanks to the shiny lj user="time_converges" for the beta, and the noble lj user="kgriess" for the proofing. &hearts
This one is for lj-user="Ageless_Aislynn".
The Doctor heard the squeak of a door hinge that wasn't squeaky, and the creak of floorboards that didn't creak. He opened one eye and regarded the little body curled up beside him: his little boy was finally sleeping peacefully, his superhero cape still in a shiny swathe around them both. The Doctor very gently rolled over in bed and opened the other eye: his baby girl was equally in slumber, chubby arms splayed out wide as she sprawled on her back with her mouth open, making a mockery of the swaddling clothes he had attempted for the umpteenth time that evening. She emitted delicate little snuffly snores and he smiled.
But the smile feel from his face when he realized their mother was nowhere to be seen.
He closed his eyes again and this time the bed creaked, which was quite some feat considering these days it was merely a huge mattress on the floor, lest the little ones roll out of anything that was higher off the ground. They had played with the notion of cribs and toddler beds. His son had a batcave bed in his room, complete with batmobile wheels, and his infant daughter had a beautiful frilly cot, with the most expensive Frotillian lace and hand-carved wood from an enchanted forest on the planet Blyton. But they never settled down for the night anywhere else than with their parents, and sleep was such a precious commodity around here they would do anything, anything, to get a few hours shuteye.
His ship sighed at him, having given up on the more subtle approach.
What is it old girl? Is it Donna?
In answer, he received a drift of emotion, his wife was safe, but she was scared and alone.
He would like to say he jumped out of bed in a flash, but in actuality, some things were even scarier than even that with which his imagination was now torturing him regarding Donna, and after two days straight of at least one of the kids keeping him awake, the idea of disturbing them right now was the worst kind of nightmare.
So he hurriedly slid out of bed instead and padded down the hall as rapidly as he could, only breaking into a run when he was sure he wouldn't be communicating any urgency to his surprisingly empathically sensitive young children.
Approaching the library at full tilt he could see a menacing red light under the door, and hear the most blood-chilling screams. He burst into the room and stopped short. Donna was bunched up on the couch, hiding behind a pink fuzzy boppy breastfeeding pillow, her hands over her ears.
There was a white flash from the television set and then the noise, mercifully, stopped.
The Doctor took a breath and tried to stop the fury that rose in his heart. Prolonged sleep deprivation made his emotions balance on a knife edge, and he knew it was even worse for Donna, her hormones still haywire. He had lost count of the idiotic fights had had gotten into with her, all because they were too tired to think straight.
When he had calmed down somewhat he sat down on the couch beside his wife and she dove into his arms, and for all the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he couldn't help but smile as he cuddled her close.
"Watching Lost again, love?"
"I have to catch up, Veena wants me to go see the finale with her, and I need to go, Doctor." She looked at him with shades of psychotic desperation in her eyes. He knew that look well, it accompanied the first year after the birth of each child, and no matter how much he tried to take the brunt of the sleep deprivation it was just too much for one person, even if that person supposedly needed even less sleep than his children did.
"Can I go, Doctor? I need to feel human again. Just for one evening. We could leave the kids with my Mum if you want to come too…"
Her voice trailed off and they looked at each other, both knowing how ridiculous that idea was without it having to be said. No one could handle these children but himself and Donna, there was no point in even torturing themselves with the idea of a night off together since the baby had arrived.
"Of course you can, I'll be here, don't worry. It's not my kind of program anyway, the timey wimeyness makes even the untempered schism make sense." He kissed the top of her head and she snuggled into his chest, mumbling a tired 'thank you'.
The Doctor regarded the improbably attractive man on the screen, sheened muscles rippling under an artfully ragged t shirt.
"I thought he was a conman? Didn't he die already?"
"No, that was the other guy, and that other guy is dead, but there is a flashback or two, and Veena says now it goes sideways. But I'm sure Sawyer will still end up with Kate, he's gruff and puts up a front but he totally loves her you know."
"Ah."
He lifted the DVR remote and hit the pause button. He wanted to turn the whole thing off but he knew better than to come between his hormonal post-partum wife and an island full of sweaty men in muscle shirts. (Well, that and the pause button was big and yellow, and if he was being honest he hadn't figured out where the off button was yet; remote controls weren't his strong point, and he was sleep-deprived.)
He looked to his wife and smiled affectionately as she sat up and rubbed her red eyes, her hair was piled up carelessly on top of her head as it always was these days since the baby came and grabbed for it with her little tight fists at every opportunity. In the glow from the television he could see the dried remains of their toddler's dinner on her sleeve, spit up on her shoulder, and two wet circles in the middle of her chest. He caught his breath as he looked at her, she was so beautiful, motherhood had only served to make her even more radiant.
"Let's go to bed, love," he murmured and she shook her head.
"I can't, if I crawl in beside her she'll wake up to feed. I think she could go another half hour at least if she doesn't smell the milk. If we could just get her to go three hours between feeding now she's almost six months I think it would help with the sleep."
Even as she protested her words were slurring and her eyes were closing, she took the remote from him, thumbing off the television. He leaned over and flicked on one of several baby monitors, satisfied to see the grainy image of two sleeping children flicker into life. The little screen was now the only light in the room as he lay back on the couch and held his barely conscious wife in his arms, not far from sleep himself.
This was bliss.