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“Now hold still,” warns Charlie, sitting in a crouched position, carefully attempting to tie the last ribbon onto his daughter’s pigtails.
Lucy does the opposite, wriggling around in the dining room chair that is much too tall for her. She swings her feet to and fro between the long, metal legs, just barely letting her white, buckled shoes kick at her father’s knees.
“Baby, baby, baby,” Charlie winces, “please don’t kick your Daddy. It hurts my body, and I don’t want to pull your hair.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” Lucy giggles in return, light in her eyes ever so bright.
He and Nick certainly got the wiggliest child the universe could make, that’s what Nick always says anyway. They knew when they picked Darcy to be their surrogate that there was no way any child of theirs could ever stay still. Between Charlie’s quiet strength and Darcy’s chaotic energy, their forces combined to birth a tiny Nick Nelson, and there hasn’t been a dull moment since. At only three years old, Lucy Olivia Nelson-Spring is a spunky little thing, with shiny blonde ringlets and a toothy grin that can make even her Aunt Tori smile.
Charlie is dabbing the last bit of glitter onto Lucy’s cheeks when her relentless fidgeting finally ceases. He looks up at her only to find she’s looking past him, her face aglow with curiosity.
“What is it, Sweetheart?” he asks, lovingly.
Lucy ignores him, far too intrigued by whatever exists beyond her Daddy’s dark head of curls. Charlie glances behind him to see what his little girl is staring at. He scans the room, eyes wandering until they finally find the culprit.
The sun shining through the window is splashing an array of colors onto the wall. Dancing among rays of light is a sea of blues, yellows, and pinks that little Lucy just can’t take her eyes off. Charlie turns back to her as she looks on in a kaleidoscope of incredulity.
“Oh, I see,” he smiles, “the colors are pretty, aren’t they?”
Lucy is silent still, and Charlie huffs out a chuckle.
“Come on, now. Let’s go see them up close!” he says, swooping her up into his arms, bare in preparation for the summer heat.
Charlie squats down next to his doting daughter, the sun casting their shadows against the floor. He watches their silhouettes mirror their movements, and makes a mental note of their size differences; she won’t be this little forever.
As the light continues to stream in, more colors begin to appear. Lucy squeals excitedly at this, and her little Mary-Janes click-clack against the linoleum as she happily hops between each foot. Charlie watches on contentedly, finding every little reaction to be the most adorable thing on the planet. He knows she isn’t biologically Nick's, but God, it feels like it sometimes, the way her mouth quirks up into a half-smile when she’s at her happiest.
Charlie lightly grabs Lucy by the tiniest of hands, urging her closer, “Did you know today is a special day?”
“Special?” she asks, hopeful.
“Yes, Love, special.”
She turns now to face him, “Special like when Papa takes us to the beach?”
Charlie chuckles fondly, head bowed to the floor and then looking back up to her again.
“The beach is special, yes. But today is special in a different way.” he says. “Today we are going to a party!”
Lucy flashes him a curious look, child-like naivety shown in the furrowing of her brow. “A party? For what?”
Charlie simmers on a response, before turning the both of them to face the wall again.
“Well,” he starts, colors moving about on the wall in little figure-eights around each other, “every year, people like your Papa and I celebrate our love for each other at a BIG party, and a parade with people from all over.”
Lucy squints at Charlie, inquisitive. “Is it because you kiss each other?”
Charlie laughs low in his stomach, “Sort of! But it’s mostly because we’re in love.”
Charlie can recall the very first Pride he and Nick attended as a couple, when they were just teenagers and blinded to adult responsibilities. Nick carried Charlie on his back through most of it, the rest of the gang at their sides clad in their rainbow best. Later on in the day, they snuck away to the back of some red-bricked building, eager to get some alone time amidst all the noisy festivities. Still the party raged on, and from a block or so down they could still hear the music from the live band roaring loudly through the speakers. Nick kissed him with abandon, and it was then that they had their first dance together, slow and sweet.
“And it’s not just for people like me and Papa,” Charlie says, “it can be for people like your God-Mummy Elle, or your Uncle Michael. It can be for you too!”
“For me?” Lucy beams.
Charlie cups her face with his hands, careful not to ruin the little heart stamps at the corners of her eyes, “For you, Love.”
Lucy listens close, leaning into her father. She hums, relaxed and warm against his side. Charlie points his head down to press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling through his nose like he used to do when she was an infant. The newborn baby smell might be gone, but he swears the strawberry scent of her kids’ shampoo warms his heart in the same way.
“And,” he’s still sitting close, an ear against her golden hair, “the colors on the wall, there? That’s what this party is all about. All of those colors are so beautiful on their own, but when they come together, they dance happily, and shine even brighter. And no amount of dark shadows could ever dim their light.”
Lucy peers up at her father through long lashes, a radiance in the crinkle of her nose, “Which color can I be, Daddy?”
Charlie sniffles, holding back the happiest of tears that threaten the sparkles adorning his own cheeks.
“You can be any color you want to be, Baby. And as many as you’d like.”
She makes a new face, now, pondering. “What color is Papa?”
That’s when Charlie hears the clicking of a key turning a lock.
“Let’s go ask him!” he says, grunting as Lucy jumps into his arms once more.
Together they head toward the front door. Lucy plays with the soft curls behind her Daddy’s ears, and Charlie holds her tight and secure against his body as they bounce over to greet a smiley Nick.
“Papa!” shouts Lucy, practically scrambling from Charlie’s arms and into Nick’s.
Nick kneels down and quickly embraces his baby, “Oh, mon lapinou, I’ve missed you so much!”
Charlie giggles, knowing Nick was only gone for an hour to get the groceries.
Pulling back from their hug, Nick squeezes the sides of Lucy’s shoulders, scanning her up and down.
“What has Daddy got you wearing today, Love?” he says through a breathy laugh.
“Do I look pretty, Papa?” she asks, excitedly stepping back and spinning on one foot.
Nick stands back, gazing lovingly at his girl dressed head to toe in purples, pinks, and blues. The ribbons in her hair are tied neatly into little bows, and they perfectly match the fluffy skirt that hangs above her knees. Her socks have little ruffles that hug her ankles, and her shirt reads my papa has pride, the font gradient in bisexual flag colors.
“We wanted to surprise you.” says Charlie, allowing Lucy to use his hand to twirl herself like a ballerina.
Nick’s grin is so wide, his eyes crinkle in the corners and almost look like they’re shut. He makes this face– a look Charlie is familiar with, his lower lip quivering quietly into his smile as he stands in awe, and Charlie knows he’s going to cry.
And then Lucy twirls herself into a dizzy mess, and tumbles to the floor.
All three of them sputter into an ocean of giggles together, felicity buzzing about in their lungs. Charlie notices the sheen of wetness pooling at the apples of his husband’s cheeks, and promptly reaches over to gently wipe away his gleeful tears. Nick leans into his touch, pressing love into his palm.
“Is Papa’s beard scratchy?” Lucy asks, observing her fathers’ affection.
Nick and Charlie both snicker. Charlie comments on how the beard makes him look handsome, and Nick asks Lucy if she’d like to feel it, to which she gives a resounding yes. Charlie takes this opportunity to put some glitter onto Nick’s nose while he's distracted, and Nick lets out a funny little “Oi!” that makes Lucy snort.
“You do look quite lovely, ma choupinette,” coos Nick, “like a little fairy!”
He walks over to an adoring Charlie, hip jutted out as Lucy clings to his side, a habit he developed when she went through her pick-me-up-or-I’ll-scream phase.
“I love you so much,” Nick murmurs, their foreheads knocking together as he sweetly presses his lips to Charlie’s.
“I love you, too.” Charlie replies. And he does. He really, really does.
They all squish together to take a photo, Charlie’s idea, setting Nick’s phone up against a shelf and standing against the wall. They huddle close, beaming, and wait for the click to go off.
When they’re done, Charlie quickly swipes through the burst of photos taken. He laughs because Lucy is in a different position in every single one, the wiggly thing. But then he stops, and he zooms in, because on the wall just above Lucy’s little pigtails, are the colors from the window.
Charlie stares down at the newest edition to their family photo album, bright on his screen.
The three of them have never been luckier in love.