"Daddy."
Cal half woke.
"Daddy," the little voice murmured again. He didn't sound like he was calling to his father, just conversationally making an observation.
Through a haze Cal felt the small hand tugging at the shirt at his shoulder and a fistful of bedcovers. Cal slid an arm out to feel for his wife but the bed appeared empty, as far as he could reach anyway. Damnit. It was his turn to sleep in and he had been completely out of it. Gillian must have left the bedroom door open a little.
"Daddy," the voice repeated, slightly more urgent this time, and Cal came more awake. Little hands, fairly weighty body, clear pronunciation. Owen. If it was Lewis, he would have been able to climb up himself. Cal reached out his other arm, dislodging the fingers from his shirt and used both hands to mostly drag his youngest son up against his torso and across his lap. He let go again, asleep, exhausted; his arms zombies.
He felt Owen shift on the bed, getting to his hands and knees, Cal figured, to crawl his way to the top of the bed and start... causing trouble probably. Sometimes he liked to pull hair or throw pillows. Either way, Cal figured he was screwed for getting anymore sleep. And he really could do with some. He was going to lodge a complaint with his wife and demand a refund.
Owen did crawl up to the head of the bed but he wiggled his way under the covers and lay over Cal's arm and shoulder, fully body hugging it, his head against his father's jaw. Cal could feel the comforting winter warmness of flannel pyjamas and soapy softness of the boy's scent. Cal reached over with his free right arm and smoothed his hand against the back of the eighteen-month-olds head; blonde hair, soft and fine, like his mother and Cal could see it in his mind. Beautiful Owen. With his mother's nose and his brilliant blue eyes. He was going to be a heart breaker. He already had the personality for it; charm and mischief. He'd skipped crawling, gone straight to walking and spoke comprehendible words that had his mother, every other woman and quite a few men just eating out of his hands...
And then Cal realised something else as he came more and more awake with each gentle breath. That whispering sound, that was Owen. He was saying something as they lay there. Softly speaking repeated words.
"There Daddy," he murmured against Cal's neck, his voice warm, soft, and content. He gave a little sigh. "There with Daddy."