Work Text:
Despite the rain, or because of it, the day has been bedlam, a joyful riot of getting out every single toy in the playroom and not caring that they were all mixed up; of working on a jigsaw puzzle and colouring books and sticker mosaics and building towers.
Now, after wrangling the feral creatures into pyjams, scrubbing teeth and reading far too many stories, the lights are out. Bailey is sitting up with his torch reading a final chapter, Alesia has collapsed, hands above her head.
“What do you want, Nick?”
“I mean, we could …”
“Or we could…”
“Sleep, yes!”