A/N: This takes place the year before the previous chapter.
Have You Heard This One? It's My Favorite Christmas Bedtime Story
.
"The purple one, Daddy," his youngest daughter's voice instructs, so like her mother a smile flitters across his lips as his hand moves to accommodate her choice.
He lifts the collar of his crisp white shirt and loops the tie around his neck, redoing the button as he pushes the knot into place. She's watching his every move and it amuses him, tugs at his heartstrings really, because she cares enough to want to notice.
Her hands are resting on her thighs as she leans forward, eager to see the result that occurs due to her involvement. She raises herself up when he's nearly completed the maneuver, and he knows he has her enraptured when she doesn't even reach down to pull up one of her cream knee-highs that's fallen down with the quick rush of movement. And quite frankly it's such an adorable sight; he doesn't want to break the spell. There she is, his little girl: sitting up on his bed in her gorgeous vintage cream cardigan, with her turtleneck of exactly the same shade peeking through, eagerly waiting for him to finish; her eyes watching his every move, sparkling brighter than the snowflake design on her woolen top.
"Better?" he finally asks, hands outstretched for Katalina's approval and watches her nod excitedly, face alight with pride.
His wife appears before him then, wordlessly reaching up and taking the tie in her hands; letting the silk fall through her fingers as she smoothes out any creases before running her hands over the lapel of his jacket and leaving him with perfection.
"Much," Blair tells him, smiling as she gives him an appreciative once-over.
"Wonderful choice my little Kitty Kat," she says to her daughter, and moves over to where the girl has fallen back into a seated position on their bed.
Katalina beams at her mother and the elder runs an affectionate hand over her daughter's hair as it runs down past her shoulder.
"And now that your father is ready, hop off my bedspread and go and call your sisters?" Blair requests.
Their eight-year-old bounds from the bed, giving her mother a slightly sheepish look before scampering away to find her older siblings; the ruffles of her cream and black skirt flouncing around her with every step her black ballet flats take.
They watch her go, and then he turns to his wife with an amused smirk and queries, "She's not to call her brother?"
"No," she replies, giving him a smug look in return, turning him by the shoulders and steering him towards the door. "That would be your job."
.
He knocks gently on the door to his son's bedroom as the little boy looks up from his book. He steps inside and his son returns his gaze to the pages before him; legs crossed high in the air at the ankles as he lies on his stomach on top of his bed.
He sits on the edge, leans over towards his son and is met with a dark gaze as he tries to scan some of the lines.
"That's the book I always read to you on Christmas Eve before you go to sleep," he says, head tilted to look at his son fully. "Why are you reading it now?"
"I might as well," Teddy answers him petulantly, crosses his arms in front of him so the reindeers on his woolen jumper are obscured from the elder's view. "It's not like you're going to be here to do it."
He releases a breath, and moves further onto the bed, swipes the book from under his son's nose and lies back until he is resting against the intrinsically designed headboard, pillows plush beneath him.
"What are you doing?" is his son's demand, as he pushes himself up onto his knees with his elbows, the soft chime of the wooden toggles at his neck knocking together with the sudden movement.
"Well, if you're Hell bent on ruining the tradition before you've even given me a chance, we might as well read it now, mightn't we?" he returns with a smile.
Teddy leaps over to him, a grin instantly brightening his features as he snuggles into his father's side.
"You said a bad word," the young boy teases. "Mom'll be mad."
"Not if someone doesn't tell her, she won't," he counters, voice just as amused.
Teddy shakes his head, still smiling, as he nestles in closer to him, settling in for the Christmas story. "Doesn't matter, she always knows. Mom knows everything."
There's slight amazement in his son's voice and it makes him chuckle.
"Oh, I know," he agrees with a knowing smirk.
"I like your jumper by the way," he compliments a moment later, and catches sight of his son turning his head up to look at him, the flash of fabulous red of the shirt the boy wears underneath making his lips curve just that bit more. "You've got a great ensemble going on, the jumper looks good with it."
"It's the one you bought for me on your last business trip to England," Teddy tells him, a rueful quirk to his lips as his hand lifts and his fingers tug lightly at the front of the sweater.
The boy's gaze lifts and he meets the identical dark eyes of his father as the elder watches him.
He smiles, eyes never leaving his son, and softly reiterates, "I know."
-
When he returns, having pushed several of his meetings forward in order to be able to fly out within a matter of hours of the last one, the sight that greets him on his return is enough to tell him it was all worth it.
He leans against the doorframe, exhaustion seeping through to his bones, his eyes threatening to slide shut, and he smiles.
His wife is asleep in the center of their bed, as beautiful as he has ever seen her; and tucked neatly in on either side of her are their children.
They look as content and peaceful as he's ever witnessed them, and he marvels at it; at this world he is such an intricate part of.
He toes off his shoes and quietly drops his jacket onto the chair along with his tie, picking up the book that lies open on top of the bedspread and placing it on the side-table. Then he gently lifts back the cover and slides into bed.
His son turns at the movement and blinks sleepily up at him, before wrapping his arms around his father's frame and resting his head neatly against the elder's chest, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of his father's heart.
"Goodnight my little prince," he murmurs against his son's temple and places a kiss there.
His head sinks further into the pillow and he meets his wife's tired gaze as she looks across at him and smiles. His lips curve upwards, and his hand finds hers in the darkness; their fingers entwining as her eyelids flutter shut with her whisper of, "Welcome home, my love."
The antique clock on his wife's vanity reads one minute past midnight, and as he falls asleep with his family around him; he doesn't think he could've asked for a better Christmas present.
TBC?
Who am I kidding, I'll probably write at least one more – I hope, they are such fun to write. It might focus more on the girls in that one jus to even it out a bit, but I make no promises ;)
Hope you liked it and please let me know what you thought – it means so much to me!
Steph
xxx