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The key clicked in the lock and the door crept open, much louder than Pok himself as he slinked inside. He closed it softly behind him, hoping that he hadn’t disturbed his family, and leaned against it for a brief moment when he didn’t hear shuffling in response. A familiar dim light under their bedroom door (Sklonda didn’t come out to greet him, so she must’ve fallen asleep working again), the salty smell of fries and defrosted dinosaur nuggets still lingering in the air, fighting for dominance against the sharp zest of floor cleaner, a small draft tickling his face in waves from the kitchen window that Sklonda always left open...
He was home.
Sighing, he detached from the door, put his suitcase down and set about divesting himself of his coat and shoes, then made for the bathroom, taking off and hanging everything but his undershirt and underwear on wall hooks to be dealt with in the morning. He washed his hands (they were clean; he’d already scrubbed them several times in the hotel room; he wasn’t trailing blood into his home) and splashed his face, pausing to glance at himself in the mirror.
Strain was visible in the cracks and nooks of his visage- tight mouth, deep shadows under his eyes and nicks at the edges of them. He breathed through it all, the memories of horrific noises and sights and all they entailed, until he looked a bit less like he’d had a very bad couple weeks.
It was his fault, to a degree- he’d been so eager to come back that he hadn’t taken the extra day he needed to collect the pieces and put them back in place; instead, he’d jumped in the first available taxi and spent the six hour ride uncomfortably perched in the backseat writing reports and trying not to count down the minutes like the homesick fool he was.
Hands dried, Pok moved across the short expanse of their living room quietly and left the weapons in the secret office, not wanting to risk Riz finding them in a more accessible drawer, the curious little guy he was. Smiling at the thought of his son, he padded over to the side of Riz’s bed- and found it empty.
Curious- not panicked, there was no reason to panic, everything was fine-, Pok rushed over and opened the master bedroom door, forcing his heart out his mouth and back into his chest, though it suddenly had a hard time making its way down and past the soft emotions jamming his throat at the sight.
Sklonda was lying on the covers in a way that told Pok she’d been sitting on them and had since slid down, a file open on her chest. Riz was nestled into her side, dressed in a Wooflock Howlmes-themed pair of pajamas and hiding his face in her shirt to protect himself from the glow of the bedside lamp. His teddy bear, a stuffed animal that bore some wear from fangs nibbling on it, was crammed into the non-existent space between him and Sklonda.
Pok leaned over the bed and gently moved Riz’s hair off his face. “Hey, kiddo. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”
Riz’s eyes briefly flickered open at the whispered words, focused on Pok, then he raised his arms. “Ah.”
Pok lifted him easily and carried him over to his own bed, freeing one hand to fluff the pillow. Riz seemed content in his embrace, nestling in and encircling his little arms around Pok’s neck, but when Pok tried to put him down, he made an unhappy sound and dug his claws in, tiny as a kitten’s but sharp enough that a bit more pressure would break skin. “Nuh-uh.”
“Kiddo-“
“Ah!” Riz repeated stubbornly, holding on tighter and nestling in further.
Pok held him tighter in turn, resting his cheek on top of Riz’s head in defeat and closing his eyes. Soft curls pressed into his face, smelling of mild baby shampoo, and Pok had to fight off a sudden, vicious urge to cry.
“Okay. Okay.” Pok rubbed Riz’s back, breathing sharply in to push the urge down. “You can sleep with Mom and Dad.”
Riz made his happy little sound again and released his chokehold as Pok walked back to their room, but instead of lying down when Pok pushed the cover off his side of the bed, he jumped up and down excitedly and shook Sklonda’s arm, jerking her awake whilst evading Pok’s hurried attempt to scoop him back up with a dexterity he didn’t know three year olds possessed.
“What?” Sharply pushed back into wakefulness, Sklonda scanned the room in that rapid fire way of hers, eyes jumping from Riz to Pok to the door in a split second and relaxing as they moved to Riz again. “Yes, alright, but a short one.”
Riz screeched his delight and slid off the bed to run off, making it clear that Pok’s plan of not disturbing the night was officially shot. Instead of slipping under the blankets, he sat by Sklonda, rubbing her knee in unconscious, soothing motions as he smiled down at her, raising his eyebrow questioningly. Sklonda returned the smile, sleepy but genuine. “Bedtime story. I said you’d read him one when you got back- didn’t have these circumstances in mind, exactly, but...”
“Sorry, there was a horrible traffic jam at the pass.” Pok moved the file to the bedside table, then covered Sklonda’s hands with his own and took over unbuttoning her shirt, leaning down to kiss her softly as he did so. “Hi.”
She smiled against his mouth, returning the murmured greeting, and slowly seized control of the kiss, taking her time grazing fangs over his lips and claws over the sensitive skin behind his ears until he melted into her.
When they finally parted, Pok let his head fall to her chest and hummed at the feel of her fingers in his hair. “Should I go help him out?”
“Nah, it always takes him a bit to choose.”
“Mm.” Pok kissed the closest patch of skin and sighed contentedly. “I should also apologize for promising Riz that he could sleep here tonight. I know you’re doing a thing with him sleeping in his own bed- I don’t want to undermine that.”
“I know, it’s okay.” Sklonda rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “He’s so adorable- how could anyone tell that little face no?”
“You can.” Pok faux-sulked, propping his chin up to look at her. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“There needs to be a balance.” She declared magnanimously. “We can’t both be pushovers, but we can’t both be strict either, so-”
Pok sputtered, his heart skipping a delicious beat at the playful amusement in Sklonda’s eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You know what you are, Mr. Gukgak.” And before he could even think to react, Sklonda had already encircled his waist and flipped them over, blowing hair out of her face so she could nuzzle his nose with her own. “Pushover.”
Gods, he was in love with her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“There you go.” Sklonda bit his lip and got off the bed to shed her clothes in favour of a sleep shirt and shorts. It was a purely practical song and dance, but efficacy was attractive on Sklonda, and Pok wished that he wasn’t so damn exhausted- or perhaps he thanked his lucky stars that he was. “I know I said it takes him a while to choose, but if you want, ‘ah’ can go sit with him and help. He’s happy when you’re around.”
There was no judgment in the words- there never was-, but the wistfulness that circled around them when Sklonda was too tired to hide it still stung. He smiled before she caught him catching on, “I’m ‘ah’?”
“D-ah, sometimes, if I don’t understand him right away.”
Riz didn’t really talk, only preferring to use simple sounds unless it was absolutely necessary to form words, though he could already read and write. During Pok’s last mission, he’d apparently had another writing breakthrough where he learned to turn the tails on his ‘R’s to the right side- just another little thing to add to the list of Riz’s precious mundanities that Pok missed.
“And you? ‘Eh’?”
Sklonda laughed. “No, he doesn’t call me anything, he just comes over to pull on me when he needs me. You know he’ll always avoid talking if he can.”
And he couldn’t do the same for Pok because Pok wasn’t there to be pulled on. Not a reliable presence, but somebody who needed a name so he could be talked about in his noted absence. Pok put his arm over his eyes, though from whose gaze he was shielding his emotions he couldn’t tell- from the universe’s, maybe, as unlikely as that was to work.
After several beats of silence, he heard Sklonda walk to the bed and felt the mattress indent, and then a comforting weight settled on his stomach. Instinctively he passed his hand over her hair, and felt his insides settle though the sadness lingered.
“Ah!”
Riz jumped up on the bed, a thin, wide book in his hands that he pushed at Pok until his parents sat up and his dad could open it. While he did so, Riz clambered over his arm and settled on his lap, retrieving his teddy from where it lay by Sklonda.
Flipping through the book aimlessly, Pok tried to shake off the melancholy before Riz sensed it, and said, perhaps a bit too cheerily, “Is this a new Wooflock Howlmes? I don’t remember this one.”
“Howlmes.” Riz echoed, taking the book into his small hands and turning to the page with the publishing details to tap on the release date with the air of ‘duh, Dad’.
Pok laughed. “My bad. Thank you, kiddo.”
Satisfied that the situation had been handled, Riz hugged his teddy and let Pok take the book back. Clearing his throat, Pok began, “It was a beautiful autumn day, but not all was well in Lowdawn. Wooflock Howlmes was on another case, this time investigating an embezzlement charge- sorry, embezzlement?”
“You’re interrupting storytime, Dad.” Sklonda scolded, smiling; Riz’s head shake indicated a more serious disapproval as he once again took the book back and turned to an appendix at the back, tapping at an entry in a bilingual dictionary, oddly enough. Pok thankfully knew both Elvish and what embezzlement was, otherwise he probably would’ve been baffled.
“It’s an edition meant for elves learning Common.” Sklonda whispered to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “They didn’t have the original down at the library. Now get serious.” She added in a normal tone.
“Serious.” Riz agreed, once again settling down. “Or Mom book.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Pok said, trying desperately not to laugh at the way Riz’s cheeks puffed up with indignation. Embezzlement. “I’ll be quiet. Ahem. Wooflock Howlmes was on another case...”
Riz made it through all of fifteen pages before he fell asleep against Pok’s chest, beating Sklonda by a long shot. Pok reached a long arm to turn the lamp off and set the book on his nightstand, maneuvering them all down until they were comfortably tucked under the duvet. Small, icy cold feet settled against his bare shin; a tiny claw curled around his shirt; a bigger hand covered his own; and if Pok hadn’t immediately thereafter fallen asleep himself, he would’ve surely started sobbing.