After the baby
Things had been going delightfully with her and Erik. They had been talking softly in their bed, dare she say, even flirting!, and sharing gentle kisses, and it looked like it might be a very lovely night indeed in his arms. He has been so gentle and careful with her since he heard she was expecting a child, and that has not ended though their son was born months ago. (Four months, to be precise. Four sweet months with their tiny baby boy.) And Erik has continued to be a perfect gentleman, seeing to her every need, and never once even suggesting that they might be intimate, always insisting that she rest and not overstrain herself.
She has wanted to be close to him in that way for the past couple of weeks, the old longing reawakened in her for to make love to her husband, and it was with those thoughts in mind that she began talking to him sweetly as she lay in his arms, and nuzzling his throat, and commenting on how very handsome he looks tonight. And as she lightly trailed her fingers up along his side while murmuring about how the gaslight was giving his eyes that very lovely glow, she could see his resolve beginning to weaken, and thought that this time, surely this time, she would get somewhere with him.
Then Fabian cried from the other room, and all hopes of marital intimacy were shattered.
Erik proposed that he would be the one to go to their son, to settle him back to sleep. But for all that he might have been getting ready to make love to her, Christine could see the tiredness lurking in his eyes, and decided that tonight she would be the one to take care of the baby. She left her husband with a kiss on the cheek, and a promise that she would return soon.
Fabian, as it turned out, was crying for no apparent reason at all. He did not want to be fed, did not want to be changed, was certainly not sick because his little forehead was the same temperature as always. He simply wanted to be held, to nestle close to her, because as soon as she cradled him to her chest he settled, but when she went to lay him back down in his crib his eyes started watering.
"You get that from your father, you know," she murmured, pressing one soft kiss to his forehead. "He likes cuddling too, very much so. But don't tell him I told you because he'll deny it." And she could not help giggling as she kissed her little boy again, because the very thought of talking to her son, not only as if he might understand her but as if he might be able to tell Erik what she told him, is ridiculous!
"We'll go visit Papa," she whispered, unable to suppress the smile twitching at her lips, "and then you'll go to sleep like a good little boy, all right?"
Fabian, of course, did not answer, but he did not close his eyes either, instead lay in her arms looking up at her as if she were something fascinating. Erik, she is certain, would agree with him on that point, too.
So she carried him, her little son, into the next room to see his father, only to find said father sound asleep, lying on his side with his hand resting on her pillow. She knew she told him to rest, but she did not expect him to fall asleep so quickly, and a knot of frustration twists in her gut. Of course, he'd be asleep when she'd return, of course. And she could hear Sorelli's voice in her mind quipping, typical man really.
Sighing, Christine settled on the edge of the bed, not taking any care at all to avoid waking Erik though he still slept on, his face slack. Fabian made a small noise that drew her to look back down at him, and he was asleep too, his little face tucked in against her breast. And all Christine could do was frown, and reiterate her earlier point to both sets of sleeping ears. "You get that from your father too."