DISCLAIMER: Okay, you all know it, but I haven't said it in a while, so I
will say so once more. The tooth fairy, Santa Claus, and Cupid have all
left me high and dry, so unless the Easter bunny comes through, Robert
Romano is still not mine. He belongs to this consortium of dudes in
California who have a sick sense of humor and a disjointed gauge for
masculine hotness. Okay, so maybe it's my gauge that's sticking a little,
but - well, you get the point.
It's been so long between updates, you all may have a small sense of what our hero and heroine have gone through here. I mean, I go and turn them into the Rabbit Romano's and then bench them for medical purposes. Well, little Patrick is totally worth it, don't you think? In any case, wring your hands no more - the wait is over...
Erin smiled at Robert's back as he left the bedroom to tuck Patrick into his crib, shivering in muted delight as the sound of his humming wafted to her ears.
He never ceased to amaze her.
He had taken to being a father as if he had never expected to be anything else. It wasn't as if he had changed. It seemed more that a part of him that had always existed, hidden in the shadows, had simply stepped up to take center stage. No clumsy fumbling with blankets or diapers, no awkward stance as he tried to figure out the best way to support his son on one good arm, no fear, no trepidation, no hesitation. Just a loving and faithful attention to detail, and the instant recognition of a bond that could only have been created between his body and hers, resulting in a tiny model of human perfection. And there was no convincing him that his baby was anything but perfect, even though the week before Erin had discovered (with silent amusement) Robert pouring over the child's hairline with rueful observation. "Yeah, got to enjoy it while it's here," he had whispered softly as they rocked in a patch of sunlight by the window. His fingers tousled the delicate curls as huge gray eyes riveted on his mouth. "Because it'll all be gone someday, buddy. And that's my fault. I'm sorry. It'll leave you traumatized at first, but take it from your old man - it's not such a bad thing. Skin drives the really hot chicks right out of their minds. I mean, look at your mommy. I got her good - you're here now, right? Yes. And watch her sometimes. Can't keep her hands off it. Or her lips, for that matter. You know all those kisses she heaps on you? Yeah. You can thank me for those. I'm her practice brow." She had slipped away, unnoticed, leaving them to their "man talk" and making a mental note to include a scalp massage in that evening's activities of affection.
Activities of affection.
Erin shivered. There would be no need for such euphemisms after tonight. Tonight. When life would return to normal. When Robert would come sauntering through the bedroom door, whisk her into his arms, lay her back against the pillows. The post-partum reconsummation of marriage. The thought left her exhilarated, full of anticipation, and a bit terrified. She suddenly wished she had ignored her son's cries of hunger earlier, that she had just allowed herself to lose her senses in Robert's "Honey, I'm home" embrace. They would have slipped quietly to the floor, melted into one another, and been one. There would have been no time for nerves, no time for fear, no time for thought of any kind.
A sudden burst of static made her jump, and then the room was filled with the tinkling melody from Patrick's crib mobile. Smiling, Erin reached over and turned down the volume button on the baby monitor, then slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. The fabric eased away, revealing flock upon flock of goose bumps migrating over her shoulders and arms. She glanced down at her stomach. It had flattened out satisfactorily enough, but she self- consciously traced the silvery lines left behind by the pregnancy with her fingertips. Rising, she unbuttoned her jeans and stepped out of them, dropping them in the hamper just inside the bathroom door. She filled her hands with vitamin E oil and massaged it into her skin. She regarded her reflection, running her fingers through her hair. Nerves jangling in her stomach, she forced herself to turn away, slipping out of the remainder of her clothing and donning a short silk robe. She knotted it carefully at the waist and hurried back to the bedside. She turned back the sheets, inhaling the rose hip and jasmine scent of the linen spray she had used earlier. The sound of a door closing, and she quivered, feeling his presence before he even entered the room. She turned in time to see him fill the doorway, and her heart skipped a beat.
He was fumbling open his cuffs, unbuttoning his shirt. The visible line of skin grew larger and larger, landscape she knew by heart. The slight freckling below the collarbone, the ticklish spot below the ribs on the right, the way the muscles on the left now fatigued much quicker. She remembered lying on the beach in Cozumel, her cheek resting on his stomach, delivering a lengthy dissertation on the appeal of his navel. Remembered hearing his laughter rumble within the skin beneath her ear, remembered feeling him squirm under the warmth of her breath as she kissed him, and after ---
"See something you like?"
His voice broke into her reverie, and she blushed a little. She had been staring. Lifting her eyes to his face, she nodded and hummed a soft admission. Grinning, full of self-satisfaction, he slid the shirt off and crossed the room. He sank down on the bed next to her, pulling off his socks, and tossing them aside. His eyes found hers and held her gaze for a long moment. Then a metallic clinking heralded the release of his belt, and Erin shivered reflexively, casting her eyes away. He noticed immediately. "You okay?"
"Mmm-hmm." She tried lifting her head, couldn't do it. She lay her hand on his bare shoulder, felt ligament and tendon flex beneath her skin in response. His lips brushed the hair at her forehead. "Windsor," his voice was soft, full of control. Romano at his best. "If you aren't up to this now -"
Her head snapped up, and she lifted her hand, placing it against his mouth. He winced as if pained by her touch, and his lips parted against the tips of her fingers. "Shhh," she hushed him softly before slipping her hand to the back of his neck and drawing him to her.
The kiss was tentative, exploring. No other muscle in his body moved, Erin wasn't even sure if he was breathing. She moved both hands to his shoulders and pulled him against her, sliding her touch down to his elbows to guide his arms around her. Encouraged, his lips parted, his tongue sought entry, and she granted it easily. They sank into the warm embrace of the bed, each lost in the heady, intoxicating rush that originated within their mouths and spread like wildfire to every other cell of their bodies. Erin closed her eyes, basking in it's warmth. And then his fingers were tugging at the knot just below her navel, and she tensed against her will, whimpering softly. He abruptly pulled back. "What? What is it? Did I hurt you?"
She gazed adoringly at the face hovering above hers, full of concern and doubt and longing and restraint, and was once again swept away by all that he was, and all he was not. "No," she whispered softly. "No, you didn't hurt me." And just when she thought he would pull away, call it quits for the night, something turned in her. He sensed it, even saw it on her face, but she knew he'd never act on it. So with the most control she could muster, she reached up and pulled him to her again, nibbled at his lips with her own, exhaled warm breath along his jaw, whispered soft, pleading encouragement in his ear. His hands slid under her shoulders, his welcome weight pressed her into the mattress.
And there was no longer cause for worry.
They were dozing lightly when the tiny plea drifted from the baby monitor. Robert lifted his head as Erin turned hers, their smiles a mirror of one another. Erin gently nudged him to the bed beside her. "I'll go," he protested softly with a yawn. She giggled a little, stroking his chest. "Nope. I've got it." She rose from the bed, looking for her robe. It had, not surprisingly, been swallowed by the linens, and she abandoned the search after only a moment. She reached instead for Robert's discarded shirt, and he gave a silky chuckle. "Fill that out quite nicely, you do." She winked at him affectionately before slipping quietly from the room. She found her son, wide-awake and wailing softly, tiny hand gripping his blanket as it flailed by his side. His eyes widened when he saw her, and she lifted him easily into arms suddenly aching to hold him. She moved towards the rocker in the corner of the room, triggering the lone creaky floorboard in the house. "Oh, no you don't." Robert's voice, from down the hall. "Get in here." Patrick's head craned towards the sound, and Erin smiled. Kissing his curls reverently, she headed back to the master bedroom.
Robert sat up in bed as she slipped through the door, switching on the bedside lamp. His face twisted in a squint at the glare, but he held out his arms. Erin tucked Patrick into his embrace, and then moved around to slip back into bed herself. The baby giggled at his father's changing expressions as Robert's eyes adjusted to the light, and Erin laid her head easily against his shoulder. "Is Daddy silly?" This elicited a full belly laugh that spread from child to parents before Romano adopted a mock scowl. "Hey! No laughing at the old man." He buried his face in Patrick's stomach with a growl, and the infant squealed in delight. After a few moments of cooing, the baby began rooting his mouth to the side. "That's my cue," Erin smiled, reaching for him. Robert handed him over before settling into the pillows. He watched with an almost protective air as Erin fed their son, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face so he could see her serene expression. "You never told me you wanted a baby so badly."
Erin looked over at him with a soft smile. "I never knew until he was here."
Romano nodded, understanding. There was a moment of pause, where the only sound was that of Patrick's swallowing, and then -
"I'm bullshitting my way through this. You know that, don't you?"
Erin turned to him, face clouded with confusion and disbelief. "What?"
Robert's expression was one of simple resignation. A long stretch of silence, and Erin thought he wasn't going to speak again. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but it was then that he chose to continue. "I have no clue how to be a father." He spoke lamely. "Christ, I don't even know how to be a teacher. And I guess I'm just wondering when it's all going to catch up with me."
Erin reached to caress his face with one warm palm. "You're doing a pretty damn good job so far. I mean - " she paused for a moment, groping for words. "Don't you even try to tell me that you're faking it. I know you love him, you love being with him, you love taking care of him."
"That is true," Romano nodded. "But that can't be all there is to it."
Erin glanced down at the half-dozing baby. "Sure it can. For now. Robert, he's a baby. What exactly are you thinking you should be tackling here? Trinomials? Eastern philosophy?"
"No," Robert sniped, poking her in the ribs. "I just worry --- it feels too easy. I mean, look at him. Loving him isn't hard." As the two made eye contact, Patrick smiled and gurgled, and Robert reached over to tickle his feet. "Baths and diapers can be a real bitch with one arm, but for the most part, he's no sweat." He leaned his head against Erin's chest. "It can't be this easy."
Erin kissed the top of his head softly. "It won't always be, my love. Enjoy it while it lasts, because pretty soon - " Her words were cut off when Robert sat up and caught her lips with his own. The kiss lingered, neither of them aware of Patrick goggling happily up at them until he squealed softly. Their shared laughter broke their mouths apart, and Robert lifted the child onto his own chest. "Little mood breaker," he snarled playfully. The infant burrowed his face sleepily into Robert's flesh and Erin reached for the light. As darkness descended, accentuating the moonlight shining in the window, the three of them snuggled close together in the center of the bed.
Romano watched over his wife and son until they were both asleep in the circle of his arm.
His right arm.
And he chided himself for chickening out.
What would Erin say when she found out about the left?
He almost shook her awake, wanting to tell her the truth, needing to share it with her. And then his eyes fell on the tiny, perfect face nestled beneath her chin. The brow that was his, the eyes the shape of his own, the same nose he saw in the mirror, the same jaw. His father's son. And a voice filled his head - elusively familiar...
Not now, Romano. What was it you said once? Good news can wait, bad news never goes away. Let it go. For now. For now, just love him, love his mother, and leave the wolf out the door.
With a mighty effort, Robert moved his left arm from where it lay propped on his side, bringing it to rest on Erin's stomach. She stirred a bit, her own palm coming to cover it gently. Romano sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and drifted off to dream a world where he could feel her fingers closed around his own.
It's been so long between updates, you all may have a small sense of what our hero and heroine have gone through here. I mean, I go and turn them into the Rabbit Romano's and then bench them for medical purposes. Well, little Patrick is totally worth it, don't you think? In any case, wring your hands no more - the wait is over...
Erin smiled at Robert's back as he left the bedroom to tuck Patrick into his crib, shivering in muted delight as the sound of his humming wafted to her ears.
He never ceased to amaze her.
He had taken to being a father as if he had never expected to be anything else. It wasn't as if he had changed. It seemed more that a part of him that had always existed, hidden in the shadows, had simply stepped up to take center stage. No clumsy fumbling with blankets or diapers, no awkward stance as he tried to figure out the best way to support his son on one good arm, no fear, no trepidation, no hesitation. Just a loving and faithful attention to detail, and the instant recognition of a bond that could only have been created between his body and hers, resulting in a tiny model of human perfection. And there was no convincing him that his baby was anything but perfect, even though the week before Erin had discovered (with silent amusement) Robert pouring over the child's hairline with rueful observation. "Yeah, got to enjoy it while it's here," he had whispered softly as they rocked in a patch of sunlight by the window. His fingers tousled the delicate curls as huge gray eyes riveted on his mouth. "Because it'll all be gone someday, buddy. And that's my fault. I'm sorry. It'll leave you traumatized at first, but take it from your old man - it's not such a bad thing. Skin drives the really hot chicks right out of their minds. I mean, look at your mommy. I got her good - you're here now, right? Yes. And watch her sometimes. Can't keep her hands off it. Or her lips, for that matter. You know all those kisses she heaps on you? Yeah. You can thank me for those. I'm her practice brow." She had slipped away, unnoticed, leaving them to their "man talk" and making a mental note to include a scalp massage in that evening's activities of affection.
Activities of affection.
Erin shivered. There would be no need for such euphemisms after tonight. Tonight. When life would return to normal. When Robert would come sauntering through the bedroom door, whisk her into his arms, lay her back against the pillows. The post-partum reconsummation of marriage. The thought left her exhilarated, full of anticipation, and a bit terrified. She suddenly wished she had ignored her son's cries of hunger earlier, that she had just allowed herself to lose her senses in Robert's "Honey, I'm home" embrace. They would have slipped quietly to the floor, melted into one another, and been one. There would have been no time for nerves, no time for fear, no time for thought of any kind.
A sudden burst of static made her jump, and then the room was filled with the tinkling melody from Patrick's crib mobile. Smiling, Erin reached over and turned down the volume button on the baby monitor, then slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. The fabric eased away, revealing flock upon flock of goose bumps migrating over her shoulders and arms. She glanced down at her stomach. It had flattened out satisfactorily enough, but she self- consciously traced the silvery lines left behind by the pregnancy with her fingertips. Rising, she unbuttoned her jeans and stepped out of them, dropping them in the hamper just inside the bathroom door. She filled her hands with vitamin E oil and massaged it into her skin. She regarded her reflection, running her fingers through her hair. Nerves jangling in her stomach, she forced herself to turn away, slipping out of the remainder of her clothing and donning a short silk robe. She knotted it carefully at the waist and hurried back to the bedside. She turned back the sheets, inhaling the rose hip and jasmine scent of the linen spray she had used earlier. The sound of a door closing, and she quivered, feeling his presence before he even entered the room. She turned in time to see him fill the doorway, and her heart skipped a beat.
He was fumbling open his cuffs, unbuttoning his shirt. The visible line of skin grew larger and larger, landscape she knew by heart. The slight freckling below the collarbone, the ticklish spot below the ribs on the right, the way the muscles on the left now fatigued much quicker. She remembered lying on the beach in Cozumel, her cheek resting on his stomach, delivering a lengthy dissertation on the appeal of his navel. Remembered hearing his laughter rumble within the skin beneath her ear, remembered feeling him squirm under the warmth of her breath as she kissed him, and after ---
"See something you like?"
His voice broke into her reverie, and she blushed a little. She had been staring. Lifting her eyes to his face, she nodded and hummed a soft admission. Grinning, full of self-satisfaction, he slid the shirt off and crossed the room. He sank down on the bed next to her, pulling off his socks, and tossing them aside. His eyes found hers and held her gaze for a long moment. Then a metallic clinking heralded the release of his belt, and Erin shivered reflexively, casting her eyes away. He noticed immediately. "You okay?"
"Mmm-hmm." She tried lifting her head, couldn't do it. She lay her hand on his bare shoulder, felt ligament and tendon flex beneath her skin in response. His lips brushed the hair at her forehead. "Windsor," his voice was soft, full of control. Romano at his best. "If you aren't up to this now -"
Her head snapped up, and she lifted her hand, placing it against his mouth. He winced as if pained by her touch, and his lips parted against the tips of her fingers. "Shhh," she hushed him softly before slipping her hand to the back of his neck and drawing him to her.
The kiss was tentative, exploring. No other muscle in his body moved, Erin wasn't even sure if he was breathing. She moved both hands to his shoulders and pulled him against her, sliding her touch down to his elbows to guide his arms around her. Encouraged, his lips parted, his tongue sought entry, and she granted it easily. They sank into the warm embrace of the bed, each lost in the heady, intoxicating rush that originated within their mouths and spread like wildfire to every other cell of their bodies. Erin closed her eyes, basking in it's warmth. And then his fingers were tugging at the knot just below her navel, and she tensed against her will, whimpering softly. He abruptly pulled back. "What? What is it? Did I hurt you?"
She gazed adoringly at the face hovering above hers, full of concern and doubt and longing and restraint, and was once again swept away by all that he was, and all he was not. "No," she whispered softly. "No, you didn't hurt me." And just when she thought he would pull away, call it quits for the night, something turned in her. He sensed it, even saw it on her face, but she knew he'd never act on it. So with the most control she could muster, she reached up and pulled him to her again, nibbled at his lips with her own, exhaled warm breath along his jaw, whispered soft, pleading encouragement in his ear. His hands slid under her shoulders, his welcome weight pressed her into the mattress.
And there was no longer cause for worry.
They were dozing lightly when the tiny plea drifted from the baby monitor. Robert lifted his head as Erin turned hers, their smiles a mirror of one another. Erin gently nudged him to the bed beside her. "I'll go," he protested softly with a yawn. She giggled a little, stroking his chest. "Nope. I've got it." She rose from the bed, looking for her robe. It had, not surprisingly, been swallowed by the linens, and she abandoned the search after only a moment. She reached instead for Robert's discarded shirt, and he gave a silky chuckle. "Fill that out quite nicely, you do." She winked at him affectionately before slipping quietly from the room. She found her son, wide-awake and wailing softly, tiny hand gripping his blanket as it flailed by his side. His eyes widened when he saw her, and she lifted him easily into arms suddenly aching to hold him. She moved towards the rocker in the corner of the room, triggering the lone creaky floorboard in the house. "Oh, no you don't." Robert's voice, from down the hall. "Get in here." Patrick's head craned towards the sound, and Erin smiled. Kissing his curls reverently, she headed back to the master bedroom.
Robert sat up in bed as she slipped through the door, switching on the bedside lamp. His face twisted in a squint at the glare, but he held out his arms. Erin tucked Patrick into his embrace, and then moved around to slip back into bed herself. The baby giggled at his father's changing expressions as Robert's eyes adjusted to the light, and Erin laid her head easily against his shoulder. "Is Daddy silly?" This elicited a full belly laugh that spread from child to parents before Romano adopted a mock scowl. "Hey! No laughing at the old man." He buried his face in Patrick's stomach with a growl, and the infant squealed in delight. After a few moments of cooing, the baby began rooting his mouth to the side. "That's my cue," Erin smiled, reaching for him. Robert handed him over before settling into the pillows. He watched with an almost protective air as Erin fed their son, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face so he could see her serene expression. "You never told me you wanted a baby so badly."
Erin looked over at him with a soft smile. "I never knew until he was here."
Romano nodded, understanding. There was a moment of pause, where the only sound was that of Patrick's swallowing, and then -
"I'm bullshitting my way through this. You know that, don't you?"
Erin turned to him, face clouded with confusion and disbelief. "What?"
Robert's expression was one of simple resignation. A long stretch of silence, and Erin thought he wasn't going to speak again. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but it was then that he chose to continue. "I have no clue how to be a father." He spoke lamely. "Christ, I don't even know how to be a teacher. And I guess I'm just wondering when it's all going to catch up with me."
Erin reached to caress his face with one warm palm. "You're doing a pretty damn good job so far. I mean - " she paused for a moment, groping for words. "Don't you even try to tell me that you're faking it. I know you love him, you love being with him, you love taking care of him."
"That is true," Romano nodded. "But that can't be all there is to it."
Erin glanced down at the half-dozing baby. "Sure it can. For now. Robert, he's a baby. What exactly are you thinking you should be tackling here? Trinomials? Eastern philosophy?"
"No," Robert sniped, poking her in the ribs. "I just worry --- it feels too easy. I mean, look at him. Loving him isn't hard." As the two made eye contact, Patrick smiled and gurgled, and Robert reached over to tickle his feet. "Baths and diapers can be a real bitch with one arm, but for the most part, he's no sweat." He leaned his head against Erin's chest. "It can't be this easy."
Erin kissed the top of his head softly. "It won't always be, my love. Enjoy it while it lasts, because pretty soon - " Her words were cut off when Robert sat up and caught her lips with his own. The kiss lingered, neither of them aware of Patrick goggling happily up at them until he squealed softly. Their shared laughter broke their mouths apart, and Robert lifted the child onto his own chest. "Little mood breaker," he snarled playfully. The infant burrowed his face sleepily into Robert's flesh and Erin reached for the light. As darkness descended, accentuating the moonlight shining in the window, the three of them snuggled close together in the center of the bed.
Romano watched over his wife and son until they were both asleep in the circle of his arm.
His right arm.
And he chided himself for chickening out.
What would Erin say when she found out about the left?
He almost shook her awake, wanting to tell her the truth, needing to share it with her. And then his eyes fell on the tiny, perfect face nestled beneath her chin. The brow that was his, the eyes the shape of his own, the same nose he saw in the mirror, the same jaw. His father's son. And a voice filled his head - elusively familiar...
Not now, Romano. What was it you said once? Good news can wait, bad news never goes away. Let it go. For now. For now, just love him, love his mother, and leave the wolf out the door.
With a mighty effort, Robert moved his left arm from where it lay propped on his side, bringing it to rest on Erin's stomach. She stirred a bit, her own palm coming to cover it gently. Romano sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and drifted off to dream a world where he could feel her fingers closed around his own.