Silent Night

Being a light sleeper–which is basically a prerequisite of his job–can be a curse sometimes. For example when he wakes with a jolt, ready for battle, at the first gentle tap on his shoulder in the middle of the night.

"Grant?" Skye whispers in the dark, tapping his shoulder again, just to be sure. His first reaction is panic–morning is still hours away, it's quiet, there's no reason to get up yet, and yet there she is, sitting on the bed with her legs tucked under her, waking him up for some reason–and the reason, his brain supplies, can only be some kind of emergency. But then she continues, "It's four a.m.," she says with a smile so wide he can even see it in the darkness.

He blinks, still not quite understanding what's going on. "What?"

"It's four a.m.," Skye repeats, putting emphasis on every single word as, if it's even possible, her smile goes even wider.

He is just about to ask for further clarification, when he suddenly gets it. Reaching for the nightstand, he grabs the baby monitor, just to check if it's working–but the "on" light's on, and he can even hear some soft, regular breathing on the other end. It's definitely functioning.

"And she's not…?" he starts, and Skye answers even before he could finish the question.

"Not a squeak," she says, and he can actually hear her excitement levels rising. He falls back on the pillow with a silent laugh–wow, they've actually reached this milestone, or so it seems, and he won't lie and say that he hasn't been waiting for this. But before he could give voice to his delight, he feels the mattress move as Skye climbs out of bed, and, barefoot, heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" he sits up quickly, instinctively wanting to stop her. But she only stops for a moment at the threshold, looking back at him.

"I'm just taking a little peek," she promises, holding her thumb and forefinger close, then she's out of the room. And Grant, half wanting to see it himself, and half wanting to stop her doing anything stupid, goes after her.

The floor is cold under his bare feet, but he barely registers it as he sneaks into the next room, slipping through the door Skye left open (he has to give it to her–her stealth skills are getting better, as he didn't even hear her opening the door). Skye's there, standing by the crib, resting her hands lightly on the railing, so he steps behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and looking over her shoulder.

Haylie's there in her crib, being her usual, totally adorable self, hugging that terrible monkey plushie she got from Fitz when she was born to her chest, sleeping soundly. And she's been, apparently, asleep for six, almost seven hours, in one stretch, which is a first, something he's really glad for.

They stand there for a couple of seconds, not saying a word–both afraid to jinx it or simply wake her up–, then, when he feels that Skye would stand there until morning if she was left to her own devices (not that he doesn't need to gather all of his willpower to move), he gently nudges her away from the crib, towards the door. It takes her a moment to get the message, but then she kisses two of her fingers and presses them lightly against the baby's forehead, then the two of them, as silently as they came, tiptoe out of the nursery.

Neither of them talks until the door is closed behind them.

"With some luck," he says once the lock clicks, pulling her close to him and going for a quick kiss, "she's inherited your sleeping habits."

She chuckles and nuzzles against his chest. "Oh, I really hope so–better mine than yours. I love her to bits, but I need to sleep sometimes." Almost as if to prove her point, she yawns. He can't help but smile seeing it. "What do you say we enjoy this miracle while it lasts?"

He slips an arm around her shoulder, leading her back to their room. "It's almost as if you're reading my mind."

"Yeah, I'm getting better and better at hacking your program," she replies, stifling another yawn, as she climbs back into bed and slips beneath the covers.

He is just about to answer when he realizes that it's futile–she's already fallen asleep. So he just smiles to himself, lies down, draws her close to his chest, and closes his eyes.

(They get a little bit more than two more hours of sleep–Haylie finally wakes at six oh seven a.m., loudly demanding attention right away. But it does not negate the fact that she, for the very first time, slept through the whole night–as Skye brags about it anybody who'll listen the next day.)