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Phil couldn’t find Tommy, which was never a good sign.
Walking through the house, he glanced around. Tommy had been playing earlier. It was around time for his nap. And Phil couldn’t find him in his room. So, this was striking a nervous bolt through Phil’s whole body. Where is he? Where is he? Pacing through the hallways, he glanced around. Swallowed nervously. Dropped down and checked beneath some of the different places that Tommy might have hidden himself away. He was only a year and a half old. He was still tiny, still fragile, still didn’t have his wings.
Finally, he walked out into the library.
There, on the ground, was a little lump of blankets. They were clearly arranged around someone. Two little socked feet stuck out of the bottom of the blankets, towards Phil. Smiling, Phil stepped over. Carefully softened his footsteps, trying not to wake the boy while he slept. After all, Tommy was a tiny little baby. He needed his sleep. (So did Phil, but that was beside the point. He could take his nap when Tommy was settled down for his own.)
Sure enough, the blankets were covering Tommy. Thumb stuck in his mouth, eyes closed, the infant was sleeping facedown with his legs stuck out like a little baby owl. Perfectly normal for an avian baby. If it weren’t for the fact Phil knew what Tommy’s mother had been, and if he hadn’t known that avian genetics were co-dominant and merged with every other hybrid type around, he might have been worried. Human babies, as well as most others, were not meant to sleep facedown. As for avians…well…their heads were too heavy for their bodies because of how their bones worked. So, Phil wasn’t too worried about Tommy.
Although…Tommy was sleeping on his face on the hard wood. So Phil hurried over. Poked his head around to look and see if Tommy had his nose squished against the floor.
Instead, he found Tommy using Sarah as a pillow.
Smiling, Phil crouched down and reached out. Sarah tipped her head into his finger, let him rub against her cheek. Then, she turned and preened Tommy’s curls. Phil scooped his son up into his arms, carefully picked Sarah up as well and let her settle on his shoulder. She rubbed against his neck, chirped out a soft “thanks”. Resting his cheek on her head, Phil carried Tommy into the master bedroom, smiling softly. His son clung onto him, buried his face in the side of Phil’s neck as he stirred just enough to move and cuddle into him more.
Gently, Phil rubbed his son’s back again and sat down on the bed, kicking off his shoes. Then, he laid back. Held Tommy to his chest as he settled down on the bed. There were exactly two seconds where he stayed like that, lying with Tommy peacefully on the bed.
And then the chat came to them.
At least they didn’t get feathers in his nose. Again.
+++
Phil was in his office trying to write something.
It was something important. Some letters regarding buying a piece of property. There had been hunters on his current land too recently for his taste, and too close to his home—too close to Tommy—for his taste. So he was purchasing some land, setting his affairs in order, and then he was going to take Tommy with him and head to their new homeland. Somewhere far, far away from any cities. Especially far from the hunter cities. It was a tasking, long job to do. But if it helped Tommy? It was worth it. Besides, maybe they could eventually help some other hybrids. But the time it took had found him writing late into the night, sitting at his desk with an aching back (and back end, too. He knew he was bony but geeze he was looking forwards to leaving this chair behind and getting one more fitting for his scrawny ass).
But when his door opened, he turned to see his kid walking over. Tommy was five now, a good height and weight for someone even if he was a little small for Phil’s liking. But he was probably premature, Phil had no way of knowing unless someone who had been there when Tommy was born came along. And even then, he almost…hoped they wouldn’t. It was a selfish wish, but he had watched Tommy grow from an infant to a little boy. He wanted to watch him become an adult. And Tommy had always seen him as his dad, he hadn’t know anything else. When he asked, when he wanted to know, Phil would explain everything he could with whatever details were appropriate for him to know at the time.
Smiling at Tommy, Phil turned the chair away. “Hey, Toms. What’s up?”
“Nightmare.” Tommy babbled. Crossing the room, wrapped in his fluffy baby blue blankets, he held out his arms. Phil huffed out a gentle laugh. Leaned down. Picking Tommy up, he lifted his son into his lap. Settled him down. Tommy rested his head on Phil’s chest, shifted a little bit more to get comfortable. Then, he seemed to fall right back asleep.
Phil turned back to his papers, rubbing Tommy’s back with his free hand.
+++
Tommy really just had a tendency to sleep in random areas, apparently.
Phil had seen him, sleepy and just having woken from a nap, and stumbled over towards Phil with Sarah’s help. Then, randomly, he just dropped down. Faceplanted on the floor and just laid there. He was fine. He’d just wanted to sleep some more and wanted to be by Phil when he did so. That had been when Tommy was three.
As for right now, when he was five, he was clinging to Phil’s back with his face buried in Phil’s hood. His arms were wrapped around Phil’s neck, his feet were actually tucked into Phil’s trouser pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep him from falling off of Phil’s back. As for Phil, he was making waffles. Or…trying to make waffles. Kristin had always been better at cooking than he was.
The crows were trying to help him, some of the more mature ones. The less mature ones were busy eating cookies. They were trying to be subtle, but they weren’t very good at it. He kept seeing some of the mods chasing them off of the cookies by hopping at them and squawking.
Sniffing, he turned back to his pan. “Hey, Toms?” There was a soft hum. “Do you want whipped cream and strawberries with your waffles?” There was a soft gasp.
“Yes. Please!” Tommy said, throwing his arms up. Reaching back, Phil gently grabbed onto his wrist. Pulled him forwards so that Tommy didn’t fall.
“Careful, sweetheart.” Phil said. “We don’t want you falling.” Gently, Tommy settled his chin on Phil’s shoulder, hummed softly. Then, presumably, he went back to dozing.
Smiling, Phil turned back to the waffles.