78 Dougie's POV

Buzz was delighted to be allowed to explore the tree branch, picking at bits of it with complete fascination. It was adorable to watch, to see such wonder at the world in such a small boy, one who was also very clearly enjoying spending time with his dad.

Even Tom seemed to be enjoying himself on some level, his hands remaining protectively around Buzz's sides, giving his son the names of each bit of tree he picked up. There was hesitance there, like he wasn't sure what he was doing was right, but damn it he was doing it, and that was so important. It had been so long since we had last seen him do anything remotely fatherly with Buzz that didn't involve getting him up, feeding him or putting him to bed.

And now, here he was, holding onto his son, explaining to him about tree branches and leaves. Like a dad. Like a proper, normal dad. Not one who had been abused and beaten down so much he had no confidence left, not one who had a breakdown just last week at the mere idea of being taken from his so called 'duties' inside the house. Tom was spending time with his son, and learning that it was okay to do so, that it was okay to enjoy it, and there was nothing more important than that, nothing.

This was what I had always imagined seeing, whenever I had thought of Tom as a dad. I had imagined him showing Buzz these sorts of things, taking him out to show him the world, encouraging his fascination with everything. I had imagined us all doing out with him, sharing at least some of his first experiences, being like a big family to that little boy. I remembered, years ago, when we all used to hang out in this very field (and how long ago had that been? At least four years, at least), and I had imagined at least one child between us in the future, joining in. I had always seen it, and for a moment, couldn't quite believe we were only just seeing it now, over a year since Buzz was born, and under such stressful circumstances.

Buzz did soon get bored of the lower parts of the tree, wanting to climb up the curved part instead, moving quickly so Tom didn't have a choice in saying no. He had to be taken along for the ride, holding on tightly as the child wobbled along the tree branch, exploring every inch of it. The look on his face was one of an impending anxiety attack, but he held it together, letting Buzz do as he wished, until the boy jumped off nearer to the ground, bursting into loud giggles.

The laughter seemed to break a spell on all of us, stopping us from watching Tom for signs of it getting too much for him, bringing home that things were good, right at this moment. It was a moment of progress, not one of anxiety, we could laugh if we wanted to. So we did, starting our own giggles, or at least smiling at this tiny laughing child, who looked so happy at this moment, happier than I had seen him in weeks.

Then, a minor miracle happened. Tom started smiling too, an actual, real smile on his face. As in, an actual smile, his eyes lighting up again, some tension slipping out of his body. He was smiling, he was relaxing, in that moment, he was Tom again. Our Tom, the one we had loved ever since we had met him. Not the one who apologised for everything, or tried to do everything himself without a break, but actual Tom. The one I always imagined seeing when he was with Buzz.

I could have cried, and very nearly did when Buzz calmed down, and noticed the look on his dad's face.

"Dada smile more." He ordered innocently, like he could magically make it happen.

"Huh?" Tom asked, confused for a second.

"Dada smile more." Buzz repeated, tiny hand resting in Tom's dimple.

"O-Okay, I'll... I'll try." Tom answered, still clearly confused, even as his son let out a cheer and hugged him.