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Phil and Missa kept missing each other, and it was honestly starting to drive Phil a little crazy.
He understood the importance of Missa's job, of course- it was the same one he'd done before he'd been gifted the life he had now, hard-core and thinly-tethered to the mortal plane. Escorting the souls of the dead and scattered was important, and most notably extremely hectic, so Phil couldn't and wouldn't begrudge Missa for being pulled away from this mortal plane as often as he was. But if Phil had to wake up to another lovingly painted picture of their family, or one of his kids telling him that he just missed apa Missa, dad, he was right here!
Well. He wasn't a hundred percent sure what exactly he would do, but it was getting to the point where he needed to do something.
Being a father to two rambunctious kids, no matter how well behaved they were, was exhausting for anyone, and he often found himself falling asleep in his chair during the middle of a bedtime story or song for the kids, the two of them tucked safely right alongside Missa's still-sleeping body. He was stressed from... basically everything on the island, and then the nightmares that followed purgatory, and the bunnies or whatever the fuck new government system was standing in for the Federation now- it was safe to say there were a lot of things pulling at whatever energy he had left, leaving sleep quick to come and just as easy to lose most nights.
It was a coincidence that none of his sleepless nights had coincided with Missa's waking up, but that didn't make it any fucking easier to deal with.
He hated tea and coffee, but he found himself making a mug of the stuff anyway, of both kinds, just in case. He busied himself with light repair work around the house as soon as his kids were settled, trying to keep himself awake by being up and on his feet. Lullah's little birdhouse needed a new roof, the clock was a minute too slow, the stove needed the soot build-up scrubbed away. The night outside grew darker as the hours slowly eeked away, and he was left with little more than a slightly more put together house and burning eyes, ready to resign himself to another near miss.
He folded his arms over his chest as he glanced towards the bed, the little lumps of his kids and the alluring thickness of the quilts strewn across the mattress. The still-sleeping body of his husband, sans mask, the barest glow of moonlight lighting up his features.
His grip on his arms tightened as his chest did, a squeezing burst of longing that sat thick in his throat, before he made himself turn away.
Going through the motions of getting ready for bed were familiar- getting changed out of his clothes, brushing his teeth, tying his hair off into a braid, making sure the furnace and the torches were put out. Their house had turned into a cacophony of bird calls and wind chimes, but night time was about as quiet as it would probably ever get. He sat himself down on the bed with a soft sigh, though a smile lifted his lips as he leaned over Missa's still form to tuck the kids' blankets closer around them, their cute little growling snorts making him giggle quietly to himself.
"Philza... ?" A voice came from right below him, making him jump a bit in surprise, looking down to see Missa's wide eyes looking back up at him. Phil's heart squeezed in his chest again, this time for an entirely new reason.
"Missa!" He whispered, just barely catching himself as he glanced over to the kids, still sound asleep, reaching to press a hand to Missa's shoulder. He could feel his elation rising above his exhaustion, and he smiled again, shoulders slumping a bit. "Heya mate."
"Que paso, Philza?" Missa murmured, his voice hoarse and worried as he sat himself up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He caught sight of Chayanne first, their son's little head pressed against his hip. "It's late, no? Did something happen?"
"No, no." Phil reassured him with a quick wave, reaching to take Missa's hand in his, and Missa flushed a bit, eyes wide again. "I just- wanted to see you. That's all."
"Oh." Missa said, voice a little high and Phil couldn't help but laugh at him- even after the prison and everything else, and Missa was still so easily flustered by a simple touch and sentiment. It was honestly cute, and it struck Phil then and there that he'd even missed something as small as that. "I missed you too!"
"It's been like, what, a month or two since the prison thing?" Phil said, giving Missa's hand a little squeeze. "I got all your paintings, but we just kept missing each other."
"Yep, yep." Missa agreed, though a little ruefully as he rubbed anxiously at the back of his neck, glancing away as he gently returned Phil's squeeze. "But um, I'm a little thirsty, so- sorry, I just-"
"Oh fuck me mate, you don't have to apologized for that." Phil scoffed, standing as he let Missa's hand drop to the bed again, turning back to the kitchen to grab a water bottle and handing it to him. He pulled some toast out of his inventory as well, noting how gaunt Missa looked, swamped with blankets and hair all messy as it hung around his face. "I'm glad I caught you though, I was just about to go to bed..."
"oh, of course! Debes estar tan cansado- ah, I'll let you sleep." Missa was quick to stutter out, reaching to throw his blankets off, but Phil caught his hand again with a snort.
"Oh, no you don't, mate." he playfully scolded, and Missa froze. "You think I haven't heard of the shit you've been doing trying to keep a distance from us? You're staying right here."
"But- Philza-" Missa fussed nervously, and Phil couldn't help his endearment at that too, even if it was tempered by exasperation. But at the same time, if Missa needed a little more reassurance, then Phil was more than happy to provide.
He dropped Missa's hand to cup his face again, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pressed a kiss to Missa's lips, who froze again. His lips were soft against Phil's chapped ones, his face and hair soft against Phil's palm as he brushed a thumb along Missa's jawline before he leaned in a little closer, and Missa shyly pressed back, his hands reaching up to fist in the loose fabric of Phil's sleep pants as if to anchor himself in place.
Missa was flushed again when they finally parted, and Phil couldn't help but giggle at him, and then louder when Missa's hand came up to Phil's face to press a loud kiss to his cheek, with a 'mwah' to emphasis it. And then again to his jaw, then his neck, the sensation of it ticklish enough to make Phil laugh even harder, though he pressed a hand over his mouth to suppress the noise.
"Jesus, mate, you miss me that fucking much, huh?" Phil murmured in the space between them, using his hand on Missa's cheek to guide him up enough to press another kiss to his mouth, lingering a little as Missa melted into the touch. It was a little gratifying, right alongside Missa's clear eagerness, and usually Phil would be embarrassed by being showered in so much affection, but Missa had a way of making it funny, and thus more bearable. Easier to handle, physically and mentally.
It certainly helped that Missa was a good kisser when he was actually trying and, well, it'd been a while for Phil. He'd forgotten just how thrilling something as simple as a kiss could be.
"...Yeah?" Missa murmured, his voice pitched up and shy and Phil brought up a hand to cradle the back of Missa's head, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple, hopelessly endeared. "But... necesitas dormir, amor, you need to sleep-"
"M'ere," Phil muttered, rocking them both to the side to lay down on their bed, facing each other even as Missa gave a little yelp from the sudden motion. "There, better now mate?"
"Mmm..." Missa hummed in mock contemplation, brushing his messy hair out of his face to meet Philza's eyes, his own that familiar pretty brown. "I think your eyes need to be closed if you're supposed to be sleeping, Philza."
Even that sounded so nice, as his eyes burned with the effort of keeping them open for so long. He thought he could just barely make out the lightening on the horizon indicating early morning, but it was still dark enough that he, theoretically at least, wouldn't have any issue sleeping. Whether or not he stayed asleep was a different story entirely. Not to mention the irrational fear sitting in his chest as he stared at Missa, awake and beautiful and full of life as thin as Phil's own.
It was hard, and already his chest ached at the thought of waking up to a sleeping husband again, but at least he had this now, a quiet moment between the two of them.
He tightened his hold around Missa's body, pressing close and tucking his head to rest against Missa's collar bones, some stupid part of his brain soothed by the perceived safety of Missa's hold on him in return. Missa worked a hand through Phil's hair, scratching slowly across his scalp and Phil couldn't help but relax even further, eyelids fluttering a bit at the pleasant sensation. He could feel himself slowly falling asleep, could distantly feel the sensation of lips pressed against the top of his head, the words, "buenas noches, amor." ringing in his ear.
He couldn't remember a time he'd fallen asleep so fast, or slept so soundly, safe in his husband's arms.