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“What d’you think, mate, bedtime?” Robert asks – with just a hint of desperation in his voice – for the fourth time that evening, watching as Seb yawns but shakes his head adamantly from his spot on the rug. He’s surrounded by an army of stuffed toys, bedtime storybooks long-finished and abandoned on the coffee table.
“Nooo, wait for Daddy,” Seb insists, crossing his arms with an air of authority that no toddler should have, really.
A few hours earlier, Robert had foolishly agreed that they could wait up for Aaron to get back from his work convention together. Partially because he was fed up with missing his husband and just wanted the company, and also because he’d been fairly sure Seb would give in sooner rather than later. They had a pretty regular bedtime routine going these days, surely the kid wouldn’t make it past 8pm at the latest, no chance. He’d drift off in no time, Robert could put him to bed, then he'd wake up in the morning to find Aaron back where he belonged. Piece of cake.
Except. Seb’s definitely his and Aaron’s child, if his sheer stubbornness is anything to go by.
Robert sighs and nods, stretching languidly from where he's sprawled along the length of the sofa, feet nearly dangling over the edge.
“Okay, but it’s getting late, you sure you’re not sleepy?” He laughs when Seb yawns again, this time so hard he almost topples over on the spot.
“No,” Seb declares, rubbing his eyes and struggling to his feet. “Coming up wif you.”
His pyjamas are rumpled and he's missing a slipper, and Robert’s heart tugs fondly at the sight. He manages to snap a quick photo on his phone for Aaron before Seb’s padding over and clambering up on top of him, his beloved stuffed Eeyore clenched in his little fist.
Robert lets Seb settle against his chest and wraps his arms around his back, smiling at the warm, familiar weight on top of him, one that gets ever-so slightly heavier each time they do this. One day, Seb will be too big, too old, for snuggles with his silly old dad, so Robert likes to make the most of these moments whenever he gets them. There’s no better feeling in the world, really.
“You definitely look tired,” he says, running a hand through Seb’s curls. They’re in desperate need of a brush after bath time, but it’s Friday night, it’s been a long week and Robert’s absolutely knackered. The bird’s nest on his son’s head can wait until morning.
“M’not. Daddy’s coming soon,” Seb says one more time, curling in closer and rubbing his head back and forth across Robert’s shoulder – a sure sign that he’s literally moments away from nodding off.
“Yeah, he’s coming,” Robert whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of Seb’s head. “This is nice, though, isn’t it? Cuddles while we wait.”
Seb hums softly, and as the minutes tick by, Robert watches as his eyes droop shut and his breathing slows. His grip on Eeyore eventually loosens until it tumbles from his hand, rolling down to the crook of Robert's elbow.
“You put up a good fight, mate.”
He gives Seb’s head one more kiss and tips his own head back against the arm to the sofa, glancing at the clock above the mantlepiece. It wouldn't be much longer now and Seb's comfy where he is, he doesn't have the heart to move him. And he might as well just rest his eyes while he waits.
It feels like only a matter of minutes that they lie like that, Robert dozing and Seb sound asleep in his arms, when a voice in the doorway jolts him awake.
“Hiya,” Aaron whispers, toeing his shoes off and smiling at them.
Seb doesn’t even twitch, but Robert scrubs his bleary eyes awake and smiles back.
“Hi yourself. We were waiting up for you.”
“Yeah, looks like it,” Aaron smirks, coming to perch on the edge of the sofa. “Sorry to keep you up past eleven on a Friday night, grandad.”
“Piss off.”
Aaron shakes his head and leans down for a kiss, hand stroking Seb’s back.
“He last long?”
“He fought to stay up with every fibre of his being, but he caved in the end. Stubborn as hell about it, though.”
“Wonder where he gets that, eh?”
“Oh sure, I’m the stubborn one in this house, absolutely.”
Seb stirs at the sound of their bickering, eyes fluttering open and flicking to Aaron.
“Dad,” he mumbles, holding out his arms, the typical nonverbal signal that he wants a carry.
“Been back five seconds and you’re already giving me orders,” Aaron laughs and scoops him up from Robert’s chest. “Okay, let's get you to bed, your highness.”
Robert rolls off the sofa with a groan, listening to the sound of his husband and his son murmuring quietly to each other as they went up the stairs. He gives the living room a half-hearted tidy, moving the pile of stuffed animals to one side of the rug (he's learned the hard way how easy they are to trip over) and stacking the storybooks into a neat pile. Giving the room one last glance, he plucks Eeyore up from the sofa, before flicking the light off and following them upstairs.