20
His PJs are little coffee cups flying on a pale blue background and so cute that I want to touch them, count them. Maybe kiss each spot where one is? Especially that one down… stop it. Eyes up. "Hey"
"Jack" he smiles, waving at the bed, "Don't know what side you like but I always like the left."
"And I like the right so … how about that" I am surprised at this and look at the side waiting for my watch and things, placing my wallet, watch and badge down with a feeling of …well… glee. The top drawer is empty, he even emptied a drawer for me and I feel strange now as I slip my gun box into the back of it, then put socks and things in front. The small lock box for my gun fitting so neatly into the back section.
I feel strange heading into his little ensuite to find a space for my things all set out for me, again feeling like I am fitting in, not pushing in. I usually sleep naked but know this is something we have to ease into, not the usual playing as he feels like he needs more, deserves more and to be honest with you … just between us … I want that too. I pull on a pair of PJs I usually keep for when munchkin is around.
He is already in bed with those glasses on his nose as he checks messages and closes the tablet like he was waiting for me, then takes off the glasses and places them down. He slides down in the covers and I get in, the warmth immediate.
"Lecy blankie?" I ask with glee, finding it so comforting as I try the pillows and sigh softly.
"OK? Need a firmer one?"
"No…no. Perfect. I like my pillows soft" I assure him and he settles again, so clearly about to leap from the bed to please me. Such a lovely nurturer.
He then slides over and presses his lips to mine, moving into my arms and I know there will be no rompey-pompey. Not tonight, not with the kids in the other rooms. I instinctively know this. It makes me shiver as I wonder if he is a loud lover?
We settle in and before I know it I am waking to the sound of a faint voice calling out, a child having a nightmare and I sit up to find the other side of the bed empty. Ianto must have moved like the fucking wind.
I sneak down the hallway to find it is the boy, the broken winged one that woke. Ianto is sitting in the edge of his bed holding his good hand and as I am about to enter the room Ianto starts to sing. Soft, clear and hauntingly beautiful, he sings a sweet song about Hushaby Mountain that I had never heard before even as I recognised the tune as one from my daughter's music box. I didn't even know there were words to that.
I retreat, feeling like I was intruding on something sacred as he reaches out to stroke the boy's face and there is such tenderness in his face that I find myself craving that touch too. When he returns to the bed I am waiting, the electric blanket on again and I hope I look inviting as he smiles and slips off his slippers by the door, the robe hung back behind the door.
I know he must be cold as he slips in and sighs softly, then he moves to touch me, our bodies meeting and a soft kiss is shared as he wriggles in and we seem to fit together like a couple of old farts. I feel the strong shoulders as he moves under my hands, my arms tight around him as he let his head settle on my chest and he closes his eyes, fully trusting me as I hold him.
.
.
.
I wake to find another little body in my arms, my daughter grinning up at me as she woke me up to the bright morning sunlight streaming in the window "Good morning Daddy."
"Good morning poppet" I grin "is it going to be a good one?"
"Uncle is ironing my uniform coz it got wrinkles. Mimi and Davey are going to school too, but they go to a different one" she informs me calmly "He even made me lunch. I have a lunch box. It's green."
God knows where he got one, probably has spares or something. Usually I give her money for the canteen, her mother picking her up in the afternoon for a more organised rest of the school week. Ianto seems on to it. So organised "Wow, I better get up"
Mica and David are at the table already, matching uniforms as Ianto holds out the now pristine one for my daughter and she ran to get ready with a little cry of thanks. He turns to check the breakfast and notices me "Ah, good morning Cariad. Can you watch that toast for me?"
I soon find us all eating a breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast. Brilliant, I don't usually do breakfast and feel maybe he doesn't either. But kids are here … important meal for them.
By the time we are driving to the respective schools to drop off our cargo I find myself grinning.
I think I am a little more domesticated than I thought I was.
