Movement at the edge of the couch stirred some consciousness out of the tired redhead—slumped across half of the cushions rather sloppily. He'd fallen asleep, evidently, sometime in the late hours of the night—or early morning—just after the baby finally knocked out somewhere on floor. Allen, his three year old monster, had more energy than a classroom full of teenagers and was entering his "resistance to the word 'no'" phase.
The night had been fine just before bathing the little brat, but for some reason, that activity had been the on switch to an evening of unwilling hide-and-go-seek and see-how-loud-a-toddler-can-screech for three hours. Neither of which were activities that the tired parent was really wanting to play. He couldn't even claim to have enjoyed the one glass of wine he did manage before rolling over on the couch and falling asleep with the child on the floor just under his dangling arm.
Now, he could feel the movement of a small creature, poking around at the back of his legs and pulling on the cushion—as if to tell him to get up. For once, the boy was quiet, but he was insistently pulling and it took a few minutes for Cross to realize Allen was trying to climb up not pull out the cushion or wake him.
What a brat.
After spending all the previous night running away from him and squealing like a hell spawn, the boy decided he wanted to be a good kid and be mouse-like. Hopefully, that meant he was willing to shut the hell up, sit still and let him sleep.
Reaching back, the tired man grabbed the back of Allen's shirt and lifted him from the edge of the couch, earning a tiny squeak from him before he quieted again. He deposited the boy in the small space between the back of the couch and his own body and let the kid burrow and snuggle himself in.
Good. He was going to sleep. Cross Marian wasn't the sort to drug his child, but he couldn't deny it if he was accused of considering a shot of whiskey to help Allen sleep.
"I didn't sign up for this," he mumbled, closing his eyes at about the time he felt paws pad across his shoulder and his dumb cat laying over both he and Allen. "Where were you earlier, Tim…" He just scoffed at the short meow. The cat was usually able to at least distract Allen. "Fine, be that way." He mumbled, drifting back to sleep.
A/N: It's a short thing to sort of say hi and tell my followers that I am back to some extent. I may not have the quickest update schedules, because I have a lot of rereading to do, but I will be uploading again. At least on Persecution and Wounds.