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When Sander wakes, it’s quiet.
Too quiet.
His eyes stay closed, but he strains his ears trying to catch the buzz of the aircon and the buzzing of the fridge from the kitchen, but he doesn’t hear either.
He opens his eyes, blinking a couple of times and then uses a knuckle to rub the remaining sleep away. Robbe is asleep in front of him, the two of them almost nose to nose, Robbe’s steady breaths puffing over Sander’s lips.
Waking up to Robbe is as precious and awe-inspiring as it’s always been. Every morning when he opens his eyes and it all comes flooding back at once, that Robbe loves him, that they have a child together, that Robbe has chosen him for the rest of his life and Sander just lies there in disbelief and wonders for the millionth time how he got so fucking lucky.
Sander raises a pointer finger and trails it down Robbe’s nose, just barely touching the skin, so as not to wake him. He also allows himself a moment to carefully brush the cute little curls away from Robbe’s forehead, scratching lightly at the scalp, but he stops when Robbe snuffles in his sleep.
But the sudden sound in the silence reminds him again that something is off .
He sits up carefully and pushes up out of bed, making sure to tread gently once he steps off the carpet, his footsteps no longer muffled. He trudges to the kitchen, rubbing at his face and blindly reaches out a hand to flick on the lights. Nothing happens.
Sander frowns and flips the switch again, but the room stays stubbornly dark. He glances at the time on the oven, the red digital letters blinking the wrong time at him. He shuffles over to the fridge and opens it, and despite the initial blast of cold air, it stays just as dark inside as it is outside, the fridge light completely out.
“Great,” Sander mutters to himself, already counting the number of perishable items he’s going to have to throw out the next morning if this power outage continues for much longer. He can’t be bothered to do anything about it now, decides to just go back to bed and clean everything out in the morning.
As he walks back down the hallway he pauses in front of David’s door. There’s no sound coming from in there, which isn’t concerning, but is a little unusual. Recently, David has been listening to audiobooks most nights to fall asleep and they go all night. When Sander and Robbe pass by his bedroom at night, they often hear soothing voices slipping through the crack under the door.
Sander twists the handle and nudges the door open as softly as he can. There’s a haven of light splaying towards the ceiling coming from the corner of David’s bed. Sander realises he’s got his iPad propped up against his knees, the light bouncing white and blue across his face.
“Hey.” Sander keeps his voice low, so he doesn’t startle him.
David looks up, squinting a bit to see Sander in the doorway. “Hi Daddy.”
“Why are you awake?” Sander asks, though his tone isn’t reprimanding, just low and a bit concerned.
“My story stopped playing and then I woke up and I couldn’t turn the light on.” David pulls the blankets up over his shoulders, looking warm and cuddly, his brown hair wispy and twisting around his face. He looks so much like Robbe in the mornings, sleep soft and innocent and Sander’s heart beats wildly against his ribs.
He moves into the room, not quite closing the door behind him and sits down on David’s bed folding up his legs and curling into the space beside him. David slumps against Sander’s shoulder, stretching his legs out and placing the iPad ceiling up so they can both see the screen, though he’s not really doing anything on it right now, Sander can see he’s got DrawingPad up and has been sketching little coloured flowers.
“Couldn’t get back to sleep?” Sander muses and David shakes his head against his shoulder. Sander ducks down and drops a kiss to his forehead. “The power’s just out, hopefully it’ll be back soon.”
David doesn’t seem scared, just more unsure, like his schedule has been disrupted and he’s kind of been thrown off by the whole thing. Sander knows the feeling, so he wraps an arm around his shoulders over the blankets and squeezes him closer.
Sander’s wide awake now too and though he should probably encourage his son to try and go back to sleep, he enjoys these stolen moments a lot and he doesn’t want to cut it short.
Night has always been Sander’s favorite time. He spent most of his teens and early twenties making magic out of the nighttime, roaming around outside chasing the stars and making mischief or sharing a bed and hot breaths with Robbe, whispering promises and fears and dreams against his skin.
But now he’s in his thirties and he doesn’t have so much time for stuff like that anymore. He has a job and rent and a child, sleep is more valuable now than it’s ever really been. That doesn’t mean he can’t make an exception once in a while.
“I’ve got an idea, wanna go out into the living room?”
“Mmm yeah?’ David replies though he looks confused.
Sander hops off the bed and waits for David to follow, but as David goes to toss the blankets off, Sander stops him. “No bring all the blankets with you.”
David narrows his eyes, more confused than before, but tugs all the blankets off his bed, flipping them over his head like a big, long cloak, the ends dragging along the floor as he follows Sander out of the room.
“Okay leave the blankets on the couch,” Sander instructs before walking over to their dining table and lifting two chairs, carrying them over. He puts them down in the middle of the living room as gently as he can to avoid making too much noise and then adjusts them, making sure they’re parallel to the couch.
“Okay I’m going to grab those clips Papa sticks on the fridge, you pick the biggest blanket and pull it over the backs of the chairs.”
David nods excitedly, having caught on to their mission and starts pulling the blankets apart. Sander walks the short distance to the kitchen, pulling the small magnetic clips off the fridge door and cupping them in his hand before rejoining David.
David is holding a fluffy blanket over the chair backs waiting for Sander to secure it, which he does, watching out for David’s fingers. They do the same with the other chair, and then move around the back of the couch to dot several clips there too, making sure the base of their fort is sturdy.
They spend the next twenty or so minutes draping more blankets around the sides and over the top until they have a slightly haphazard but cosy enclosure.
They step back to admire their work, David resting against Sander’s side, head nestled at his hip. Sander combs a hand through his hair. “You get inside, I’ll get a torch.”
David nods, crouching down and vanishing inside the blanket tent, whilst Sander heads to the laundry to grab a torch, but on the way back he hears a noise in the dark and then a voice, “Sander What are you doing?”
Sander turns around and finds Robbe stepping out into the hall, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
Sander walks up to him, looping his arms low around Robbe’s back and kissing his cheek lightly. “The power’s out.”
Robbe nods slowly. “And you didn’t come back to bed because...?”
Sander grins. “Me and David made a fort.”
Robbe sighs but it peters out into a laugh. “Of course, you did.” Then he shoves at Sander’s shoulder. “And I wasn’t invited?”
Sander cages his fingers around Robbe’s wrist and walking backwards leads him into the living room. “I’m inviting you now, come on.”
Robbe doesn’t put up a fight, though he does smile widely at their creation when it comes into view. They both drop to their knees and crawl inside, David’s already sitting cross legged on a couple of recommissioned couch cushions. “Papa!”
“Hey Bowie.” Robbe shifts so his back is leaning against the couch and David quickly slots into his side. Sander sits on David’s other side and flicks on the torch balancing it so it’s light flares onto the roof of the fort.
“You guys did a good job,” Robbe remarks, smiling at them.
David snuggles closer to Robbe. “Next time you can help Papa.”
“I’d like that.” Robbe’s voice has gone all soft and melty and he’s looking down at David so tenderly, Sander’s chest aches.
They talk, until Robbe is yawning between his sentences and Sander’s head is lolling against his shoulder and David is fast asleep sprawled out between them.
Sander looks over at Robbe, his eyes are heavy and tired, but calm. Robbe reaches out and twines their fingers together, raising their joined hands to his lips and placing a kiss over Sander’s pulse.
Sander whispers an I love you and it sounds so loud and so soft all at once.
Sander’s had a lot of late nights in his life.
None of them felt quite like this.