Work Text:
“Daddy!”
The screech is familiar enough that neither Harry nor Nick stir too much at first. Sure, it rouses Nick, but it’s nice and warm and dark in his and Harry’s room, their bed’s awfully comfy and Harry’s right there. Harry’s apparently awake enough to roll over towards Nick and slip his arm over his waist though, so Nick presses an appreciative sleepy kiss to his forehead before he settles back in for more sleep, but then -
“Daddy!” It’s more urgent this time. Nick blinks his eyes open in time to see Harry do the same, his brow furrowed with concern.
“S’alright, love, I’ve got her,” Nick mutters and pats Harry on the hip with clumsy familiarity as he untangles his legs and slides them out from under the lovely warm blankets to plant his feet on the chilly floor. He rubs his hands over his face and refrains from checking the time. He knows better by now.
“Thank you,” Harry whispers, reaching out to rub his knuckles against Nick’s spine before he rolls over and goes back to sleep. Nick doesn’t hold it against him, Harry does more than his fair share during weekdays, lets Nick get his sleep for his early morning Breakfast Show starts.
“Daaaaaaaaddy,” Poppy whines, getting louder as Nick slips out of their bedroom and makes his way down the hall.
“Christ,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his arms. He should have considered some joggers or something, it’s freezing in just his t-shirt and boxers. It makes him hurry towards the warmth of Poppy’s room. He pushes open the door with the bright red poppy painted on to find her sitting up in bed, clutching her Maisy mouse stuffed toy.
“Hi darling, what’re you doing awake?” Nick asks softly, though he knows as soon as he sees her what the problem is and feels a bit shit about it. Poppy’d fallen asleep curled up between them on the sofa and Harry only had to hint at blowjobs for Nick to heft her up and get her tucked into bed, too distracted by his dick to remember to turn on her night light.
“A bit dark in here, isn’t it,” Nick says, and she nods, holding Maisy tighter. He flicks on the night light as he makes his way over to her and she drops her toy and reaches for Nick instead, so Nick just picks her right up, balancing her on one hip, her skinny little arms around his neck, squeezing tight. Nick shushes her and smooths a hand down over her mess of tangled curls, her face feels a bit hot and sticky where it’s pressed against his neck. “Do you feel alright, sweetheart?”
Poppy nods, head against his shoulder. “Scary dream,” she mumbles and Nick rubs her back.
“It’s alright, I’m here now, no more scary dreams, hm?” Nick shushes her and sits them down on her rumpled bed, arranging her on his lap and cradling her against his chest. He remembers when she was small enough to fit comfortably in the crook of his elbow and aches a little for the four years passed.
Poppy nuzzles sleepily against Nick’s chest, fingers catching in his t-shirt. “Daddy,” she says, her soft little voice thick with sleep and a pout. She sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping, eyes already drooping again. “Can I have a story?” she mumbles, and then drags her heavy head up to blink at Nick with wide, green eyes.
It’d be impossible to deny her, so it’s a good thing Nick has no interest in doing so. Best thing about having kids, he’s convinced, is the tireless audience they provide. He’s told Poppy all his stories about five million times, and she’s never once complained of being bored with any of them.
“Alright, then,” Nick says and settles them down to lie on Poppy’s bed. It’s a small bed, but Nick’s used to making it work, curling up his long limbs to make a little nest with his body and the blankets for Poppy to snuggle down in. Nick fishes Maisy out from under his arse and holds it up to his ear. “Oh, I think Maisy wants the mouse story?”
Poppy snatches the toy away and curls her arms around it possessively, grinning toothily at Nick. “Yes,” she agrees solemnly after a moment of consideration.
Nick sighs, shifting to bunch up the pillow under his head, his hand spread out on Poppy’s tummy, patting gently the way they’ve always done to settle her. “When daddy first moved to London, he lived in a funny little house above a chip shop.”
“Chips,” Poppy murmurs appreciatively.
“Yes, chips. Everything smelt like chips all the time, you would have loved it,” Nick says wryly, but it’s lost on her. “Daddy had lots of visitors in his house, but there was one pal in particular who used to come around all the time. Do you know who that was?”
“A mouse!” Poppy gasps excitedly, flailing her little arm about a bit so Nick has to dodge back to avoid a tiny fist to his nose. He’s not sure if Poppy’s general enthusiasm for all things mice is connected to his story, but he sure hopes not. He just prays that the day Poppy realises some weirdos keep mice as actual pets won’t ever come.
“That’s right!” Nick catches her hand and folds it back down against her chest. “A cheeky little mouse, just like Maisy,” he says, stroking his thumb over her palm until she curls her fingers around it and holds it still. Nick smiles.
“Maisy’s not cheeky,” Poppy mumbles, eyes closed now.
“No,” Nick laughs and bends to press a kiss against her forehead. “No, but this mouse was, a very naughty little mouse. He used to sneak into my house when I was sleeping. He’d eat all my weetabix, and then he’d try and sneak into my bed!”
“Naughty,” Poppy murmurs, and then yawns, frowning so much like Harry does, her little brow furrowed. She sighs, lets Nick’s thumb go and rubs at her nose before nuzzling in further against Nick’s chest. Nick fits his arm around her more snuggly, thumb stroking over her back. “Mouse,” she says, her little chest heaving with a big sigh.
“Yes,” Nick agrees. “Are you asleep, darling?”
Poppy doesn’t answer so Nick figures she is, closes his eyes, and goes to sleep himself.
In the morning, it’s Poppy’s voice that wakes Nick again. “Daddy!” A little gleeful yell, and Nick blinks his eyes open to see Harry looming over them.
“I see how it is,” Harry says, eyes bright. “You two’re hogging all the snuggles,” he pouts.
“There’s enough snuggles for you, daddy,” Poppy says and kicks Nick in the side to get leverage to lean up and reach for Harry.
“Hm, daddy Nick hasn’t used them all up?” Harry asks thoughtfully as he approaches Poppy’s side of the bed, which really is also Nick’s side of the bed too. It’s a small bed.
“Don’t be silly,” Poppy says seriously and yanks on Harry’s arm. Harry makes a big show of collapsing down onto the bed as if Poppy’s dragged him down. He lands awkwardly, kneeling on the very edge of the bed, bracing himself with one hand each side of Poppy’s head. He leans over Poppy to give Nick a kiss, and Nick leans up to meet it, Harry’s mouth catching the corner of his for a brief moment before Poppy’s got her arms around Harry’s neck, yanking him down and demanding her own kisses.
Poppy lets out a shriek of laughter as Harry presses wet kisses all over her face, and Nick sighs and tries to heave himself over to make room so Harry doesn’t squish their daughter, which is dumb, because as soon as he’s given them an inch they’re both turning on him, four hands and two identical sets of eyes and curls shoving him off the other side of the bed.
“Harry,” Nick whines, holding tight to Harry’s forearm, but Harry just grins and gives him a hard enough push to send Nick toppling off, landing bony arse first on the floor. “We’re getting Poppy a bigger bed,” Nick mutters grumpily.
“Hmm, I think it’s plenty big enough,” Harry says happily, and when Nick sits up, the bastard’s curled up behind Poppy like Nick’d never been there, nuzzling behind Poppy’s ear and making her giggle and swat at him.
Nick’d be mad, but, well.
“Tell daddy Nick to make some pancakes,” Harry mumbles, because he’s the lazy enemy.
“Oooh, yes!” Poppy says, sitting up abruptly, looking tiny amongst the mess of pillows and blankets and Maisy and Harry. She scrambles off the edge of the bed and grabs at Nick’s hand, giving him a yank.
“Alright, alright,” Nick huffs, climbing up off the floor, using the edge of the bed to heft himself up. Harry snags him on the way, fist in his collar and pulls him close. Nick’s being yanked both ways, the two loves of his life on each of his arms, but he gives in to Harry’s pretty face and lets himself be kissed for a moment while Poppy whines and gets a better grip on his wrist. She’s stronger than he looks.
“Chocolate bits in mine, please,” Harry murmurs against Nick’s mouth. Nick just rolls his eyes and pulls away, and then yelps when Harry delivers a sound slap to his arse before he can get away. Poppy skips happily ahead of him out of her room and Nick follows, feeling thoroughly terrorised but perfectly happy about it.