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It was dark out, clouds swirling in the sky. Rain poured down as the wind howled. Rayleigh turned just in time to see Buggy and Shanks holding hands, standing atop the rail of the Oro Jackson, the waves nearly reaching them. They both turned back to look at him. Shanks smiled as Rayleigh slowly made his way toward the boys. In the calmest voice he could manage, he said, “Boys, I need you to listen to Mama, okay? Slowly, carefully, get down, alright?”
Buggy shook his head no and looked at Shanks. Then they both jumped.
Rayleigh ran toward them, screaming. He lunged, his attempt futile, hands grasping for them as the deck vanished beneath his feet—
—and suddenly he was sitting up in his and Roger’s shared bed.
Rayleigh gasped, clutching the blankets. His skin was clammy, his heart pounding so loud he was certain it would beat out of his chest. It took a moment for the dark shapes around him to settle, for the sound of rain to become distant, unreal.
Before he could slip out of bed to check on the kids—trying to calm himself and not wake Roger—strong arms pulled him into his husband’s lap. He wasn’t given the chance to protest before he was pressed against Roger’s firm, bare chest, the side of his face tickled by thick, curly chest hair.
Roger’s voice was low, heavy with sleep. “Did you have a nightmare, baby? Do you wanna talk about it?”
Rayleigh nodded to both but stayed silent, breath uneven.
“It’s okay, honey. Take your time,” Roger murmured. “Just breathe. I’m here with you. You’re safe.”
Roger’s hands moved slowly up and down Rayleigh’s back, steady and warm. It helped—helped enough for Rayleigh’s breathing to even out, the tightness in his chest loosening.
“I-I’m alright,” Rayleigh finally said. “It was just… I had this nightmare. The boys were on the railing during a storm, and they jumped. I couldn’t get to them in time.”
Roger pressed a kiss to his hair. “Oh, Ray, baby. They’re both in their beds, fast asleep. And they know better than to be on the railing—especially not during a storm.”
“I know,” Rayleigh whispered. “It just felt so real. Like I couldn’t save them. Like I wasn’t enough.”
Roger placed a few more gentle kisses on the crown of Rayleigh’s head. “You’re more than enough. You’re the best parent they could’ve gotten. When they’re scared, or sick, or tired—who do they look for first? No matter what’s wrong, it’s always you. They always want their Mama.”
Rayleigh let out a quiet breath. “I guess you have a point. It’s just hard sometimes… feeling like I could always be doing more.”
“That’s the funny thing,” Roger said softly. “The ones who worry about that the most are the ones doing everything right.”
Eventually, Rayleigh shifted out of Roger’s lap to lie beside him, tucked against his side, head resting on Roger’s shoulder. Roger laced their fingers together, thumb brushing slow circles over Rayleigh’s hand.
“I might not be the smartest man,” Roger whispered as Rayleigh drifted toward sleep, “but I sure am the luckiest. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Rayleigh yawned. “I know. That’s part of why I fell in love with ya.”
Roger’s quiet giggle was the last thing Rayleigh heard before sleep took him again.
When he woke in the morning, he found himself tangled in limbs—not just his husband’s, but smaller ones too. Sometime during the night, their sons had crept into the room. Out of the entire king-size bed, they had chosen to curl up on either side of Rayleigh, both pressed firmly into his sides.
The feeling that settled in his chest then was something Rayleigh could never fully put into words—only that it was one he would carry with him, and one he would treasure for the rest of his life.