Work Text:
Mia was at school. Dani was taking Gracie to a doctor’s appointment. That left Malcolm alone at home with Alastair.
‘Just us guys, today, lad.’ Malcolm peered down at his son in his crib. The little boy was awake and swatting at the mobile that hung over him. He connected a little hand to a bright orange fish to send it dancing about. Alastair smiled and burbled at the movement. He was happy enough to start kicking his feet about too. Malcolm laughed back and tried to grab Alastair’s little feet.
They played ‘grab a foot’ a bit longer before Alastair’s attention was caught by the fish dangling above him again. Unable to kick his feet and grab for the fish yet, Alastair stopped kicking his feet at Malcolm’s large hands to swat again at the orange fish.
‘You like your fish?’ Malcolm talked to his son. ‘Orange fish. Yellow fish. Blue fish.’ He slowly turned the mobile and spoke the colours aloud. Alastair moved his lips when Malcolm spoke.
‘Orange fish.’ Malcolm said slowly and watched as Alastair waved at the orange fish and worked his lips roughly the way Malcolm was.
‘Yellow fish.’ Malcolm leaned a bit closer and smiled as his son did the same thing.
‘Blue fish.’ Alastair watched Malcolm intently and waved up at Malcolm’s mouth to grab at his lips.
‘Grabby man.’ Malcolm took hold of Alastair’s little hands and played with his fingers. His little fingers gripped Malcolm’s finger to try and pull it towards his mouth. ‘Careful, not quite making it to your mouth there.’
Alastair smiled at his father and wriggled about happily.
Malcolm wagged a finger at Alastair letting the boy grab it and then he wriggled it away. He tickled his son’s chin to get him giggling and then let the boy grab his finger again. ‘Oh, oh, you going to bite my finger? That what you’re going to do? Oooh, there you go. You’re biting my finger!’ Alastair had got Malcolm’s finger tip into his mouth to chew on it. ‘You’re being mean now.’ Malcolm beamed at his son and his son beamed back giving Malcolm a chance to get his finger from his son’s mouth.
Alastair reached out to his father with his little arms. ‘Want up, lad? Come on, you big boy you.’ Malcolm lifted his son gently up from his crib and hugged him against his chest. ‘No growing up too fast, you. You got a long time ahead of you to be a little boy. Your sisters already love playing with you. You like playing with them too, don’t you.’
A little happy burble accompanied by a line of dribble made Malcolm grin at his son. With a quick wipe, the dribble was gone. ‘Messy boy.’
Another happy gabble of sounds from the baby.
Malcolm covered up his eyes and then moved his hand quickly, ‘Boo!’
The boy in his arms babbled excitedly and waved his arms about.
‘Peek a boo time.’ Malcolm smiled and then covered his face again. He paused, listening to the little coo noises from his son. ‘Boo!’ Alastair laughed happily and tried to grab for Malcolm’s nose.
‘Gone again.’ Malcolm covered his eyes up again and waited then, ‘Boo!’
Alastair’s happy noises and waving hands.
Malcolm played the game a number of times more until his son suddenly yawned, his hands stretching towards Malcolm.
‘Sleepy boy now?’ Malcolm kissed his son gently on the nose. ‘Let’s tuck you into your crib.’ Malcolm went to stand up but Alastair began to fuss. ‘No? Okay. Sleep here then.’ Malcolm sat back in the chair and settled his son in the crook of his arm, holding him close to his chest. Alastair yawned again and dozed off.