WARNINGS: Implied violence. Adorable kid Nick.

NOTES: Tiny, tiny, mostly pointless ficlet I wrote years ago and only just found while cleaning out an old backup drive. I just like picturing Nick as a kid with his floppy hair and big eyes. I'll bet he was like a happy little puppy.

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When Nick was very little his daddy would make up the most amazing stories. Not their normal bedtime stories from the books with pictures they picked out at the library, those were every night stories. The special stories were for the nights when Nick would wake up to the sound of his father in the kitchen heating water and unwrapping the big Band-Aids for his mommy.

He would hear the clatter of the pot and the rush of water and sneak out of bed and sit on the stairs, peering through the railings. Sometimes, if his daddy saw him watching, he would nod and Nick would climb down the rest of the stairs into the kitchen and help apply the Band-Aids and peroxide, which he hated when it was used on his owies but secretly thought very cool because it bubbled like the dirt volcano he and mommy had made in the garden.

Afterwards there would be toast and hot chocolate and mommy would take him up to his bed and tuck him in and tell him to go to sleep and tomorrow they would do something fun together.

But sometimes daddy would see him on the stairs and shake his head and look so worried Nick would hurry back to his room and climb back into bed and huddle under the patchwork quilt his granmama had made, with Bear and Pasha the elephant tucked in next to him. If he was very, very still and held his breath he could hear car doors and voices. Sometimes he could make out his granpapa's voice and sometimes other people he didn't know.

Afterwards his father always came upstairs and tucked him in and that was how Nick knew mommy was safely tucked in too. And even though he always looked tired and ready for his own bed, he would sit on the edge of the bed and smooth Nick's hair out of his eyes and ask him what story he wanted.

"The one with princess," Nick would always say because the princess was tough and could fight and even though sometimes his father forgot that the monster in the story was supposed to be the bad guy it always had a happy ending.

"You've heard that three times this month, kiddo," his father would say with a sigh but Nick knew he wouldn't say no.

So Nick would snuggle deeper under his quilt, make sure Bear and Pasha were ready to listen to, and insist, "Princess."

Nick's father would smile and heave a huge sigh and say, "Alright then. Just once more and then we're definitely going to have to find a different story." He would tuck the blankets tight around Nick's legs keeping him warm and safe and start out, "Once upon a time…."

The End