Greer's Morning Ritual

Genre: Family

Pairings: Greg and Molly, background

Main characters: Greer, Greg, Molly

Greg woke up before his eyes opened, and the first thing he noticed as consciousness rose up from his solid night's slumber was a heaviness on his chest, making it… not hard to breathe, exactly… just, a little more effort than he was strictly willing to expend so early in the morning.

He opened his eyes and raised his head from the pillow, his nose immediately bumping into his daughter's mass of silky chestnut hair, still smelling sweet from the shampoo that Molly had used the night before during her bedtime bath.

Greer Sherla Lestrade's favourite spot to nap, apparently, was still squarely on her father's chest. It always had been, and while Greg adored his little daughter, he didn't quite have the heart just yet to discourage her from claiming him as a mattress. At three years old, she was a lot heavier than she had been as a newborn who had bonded to her father the first moment he held her, and he was banking on the theory that she would soon enough grow out of the habit. Johnnie and Scott had done the same thing with him and Molly for a time, and they had thankfully grown out of it around the time of their sister's age.

Greer lay belly down on top of his chest, spread eagle, her face turned in Molly's direction, small arms wrapped around the sides of his ribs. He smiled to himself as he noted the soft, barely audible snore.

One more way she took after Molly, he thought with a silent chuckle, as he listened for it and caught the sound of Molly softly snoring as well.

"Greer," Greg whispered, not wanting to wake Molly up. His wife had had a rough few days between work and the twins having caught colds at their pre-school. She had been run off her feet, or so Greg had figured. Molly didn't quite agree, but Greg was no fool, and knew that it was better to over-appreciate her part in their family than to underappreciate it.

"Greer Sherla," he tried again, this time bringing his hand up to stroke the silken locks. "Wakey wakey little love,"

He felt her stir and her soft little voice quietly say, "Can you stop whispering, Daddy?"

Greg suppressed a laugh. "Not really!" he replied, still whispering, but this time a little more loudly.

As Greer fully awoke, she brought her forearms up and crossed them, propping herself up. She gazed down at her father with her mother's face. Greg winced as she bent an arm to bring a small fist up to rub away the sandman from her dark expressive eyes - the only trait she had inherited from him - her elbow digging into his ribs.

"Good morning Little Lass," he said to her. She grinned down at him.

"Good morning, Daddy," she replied, looking for all the world like she wanted to flop back down to finish her interrupted sleep.

"Do you need to use the loo yet?" he asked her, hopefully. Greer giggled and shook her head.

"Well, I do have to use the loo," Greg said. "So I'm afraid you're gonna have to let me get up. You can stay here if you'd like or you can come into the kitchen and help me make Mummy's coffee."

Greer thought about this for a moment. "Coffee," she finally said. "I love how coffee smells!"

Definitely her father's daughter, Molly thought, as she lay awake, but still. She had stirred from her own sleep when Greer had awoken at Greg's urging, but had found herself so comfortable and warm that she hadn't bothered to move yet.

Molly still didn't move as she felt the bed shift, Greer sliding off of Greg's chest and Greg himself throwing the blankets off and rising to his feet. She lay there quietly for a few more minutes until she smelled the heavenly aroma of the promised coffee and heard the early morning sounds of her husband and their daughter coming from the kitchen. She knew that Greg was preparing breakfast with one hand while he held Greer on his other arm - another part of Greg and Greer's little morning ritual.

Molly thought with a pang of regret that she truly would miss the day when their little girl decided she was too big to cuddle with her daddy like that - it was her favourite way to wake up. Back when the boys had done the same thing, each one choosing a parent at random, Molly had found herself having to go through the same routine that Greg just had in order to orchestrate her own freedom to get out of bed. Since the boys had outgrown it the year before, and there was only Greer left, Molly missed that waking up with the weight of one of her sons on her chest. Greer did it with her as well on occasion, but only when Greg was away on a night shift and Molly was the only parent around.

Throwing the covers off, she sat up, stretching and yawning. Rising from the bed, she padded out into the kitchen, meeting a sleepy Johnnie and Scott coming out of their bedroom on her way past. "Good morning, loves," she called out, smiling.