Work Text:
the minute neuvillette steps into the house, his mind is already at ease. the air is warm, a stark contrast to the chilly autumn that decorates the outside world. you’ve already had the fire started from the time you reached home — your husband is grateful, taking his gloves off and warming his hands by the fire.
“welcome home, darling,” you croon, helping him take his jacket off. “dinner will be ready in half an hour, why don’t you go and rest?”
"have i mentioned that i'm grateful for you?" neuvillette smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. with another stolen kiss to the cheek, the man reappears from your room quickly, freshly showered and changed into a dark turtleneck. neuvillette moves to sit on the navy loveseat, gratefully nursing the warm mug of peppermint tea that you had prepared while the sounds of his shower going had become your white noise.
as he nestles into the soft cushions of the seat, your two little ones, mela and puca, giggle and push one of the books he had bought for them into his hands.
"pleeeeaaaseeeee, daddy?" mela whines, snuggling closer into his lap.
"didn't i read that to the both of you last night?" neuvillette raises his eyebrows in confirmation, not unkindly. he couldn't quite understand your girls' attachment to this particular book... not especially after narrating it to them, every night, without fail. nevertheless, neuvillette gently plucks the book out of his lap when mela and puca nod furiously, and the father adjusts his position – making space for the two girls to nuzzle on his lap. they stay in that spot for a while.
there's nothing but the sounds of the warm fire crackling alongside them, neuvillette's soft narration breaking through the quiet silence. even the girls know not to disturb the serenity of the scene they're in.
but the serenity seems to catch up to neuvillette – especially after a long day at the opera epiclése, the warmth and hearth of the home gently cover him like a freshly-warmed duvet. his words start to slur and trail off into nothing, and the book lays down to rest on his chest as he puts it down. your husband has finally succumbed to the warm lull of sleep, gently snoring.
mela and puca exchange a glance and giggle softly, deftly leaping off his lap and trotting to the next room to grab items for their next activity. papers and markers are held with childish eagerness, and the pair sprawl themselves out on the floor to continue, drawing cute foxes and flowers.
as tranquil as the house is, energy-filled little girls never are fully entertained by the limits of marker and paper.
and sometimes, little girls need to do what little girls do best – find another outlet. unfortunately, neuvillette had become too easy of an outlet by his proximity and lack of awareness.
puca quietly tiptoes to her sleeping father, leaving behind the forgotten, strewn about pieces of drawing block – and turns her attention to a snoozing neuvillette's face. mm... daddy wouldn't be angry, right?
the markers are back in use – swirly scribbles and smiley faces decorate neuvillette's cheeks, with brushes of bright yellow under his eyes and green whiskers. mela soon joins her sister, her red marker highlighting her father's lips. with the most mischievous grins only little girls could muster, puca giggles and gathers neuvillette's hair into tiny pigtails, his white hair sticking up at odd angles.
neuvillette is turned into a masterpiece.
well, a masterpiece, in your daughters' eyes.
perhaps mela had giggled too loudly, or puca had accidentally knocked her marker against neuvillette's cheek – but the older man starts to stir, noticing a wetness on his face.
"what happened?" he mumbles groggily, moving to sweep his hair out of his face – when he realises that he can't.
puca and mela hide behind the curtains, giggling.
"dear? i think there's something on my face, could you help me to check it?" neuvillette calls, and you set down your phone to make your way to the living room. he rubs his face with more vigour, but nothing comes off. strange.
"let me see-" a quiet oh. tumbles off your lips, momentarily caught off guard by the... sudden bedazzlement of your husband. you bite back a laugh, not wanting to embarrass him – but how can you keep a straight face when your husband is quite literally the embodiment of a girl dad right now? you tremble with laughter, spotting your mischievous little ones hiding behind the curtain.
"mela, puca, did you happen to give daddy a makeover?" you laugh lightly, searching for a mirror to hand to neuvillette. finally, one with a wooden handle is found, and he chokes at his clownified appearance. you cannot be serious, you hear him whisper to himself.
"we did! isn't he pretty?" mela positively beams. neuvillette's heart breaks, and he doesn't have the heart to wash it off at this point.
"are you.. are you angry, daddy? mela and i just wanted to have fun, and the drawing paper wasn't enough." puca nervously toes the ground, her eyes not meeting neuvillette's.
"while i am, ah.. surprised, i could never be upset at the two of you, mes petits rayons de soleil." your husband smiles, his lips still painted cherry red. your little girls snuggle back into his arms, grinning and touching his face.
oh dear. that'd take a while to come off – but you snap as many pictures as you can, because this might not happen again anytime soon. your little mela and puca are the most pleased, and neuvillette would do anything to make it stay that way – even if it meant leaving his face of artwork on for a little longer.