Work Text:
“It’s a disgrace. They’ve left the hay bales out in the rain and there are mushrooms growing in them,” Cullen fumed as he found Dorian leaning against the gate of the small animal pen. Cavan was squatting next to the rabbits, running his chubby toddler fingers through the soft white fur.
“Gentle,” Dorian called as he picked a bit of hay out of Cullen’s flannel shirt and flicked it to the ground. Their son turned and looked at them over his shoulder, his frown a perfect imitation of Dorian’s aggrieved scowl.
Some of Cullen’s irritation eased as Dorian pressed a paper cup into his hand. “They had the hot cider you like.”
He took a sip and then wrapped his hands around the warm cup, letting the heat bleed into his cold fingers. “Did you find anything else?”
Dorian held up a bag. “Horribly expensive cheese. And I think we’re probably leaving with a rabbit.” He nodded to Cavan. While the other children had moved on to pet the baby goat, Cavan was still at the rabbit pen. The woman leading the tour tried to get Cavan to follow the group, but he shook his head and planted himself on the ground.
When she tried again, he shouted, “No!”
“And that’s my cue,” Dorian handed off his bag to Cullen and entered the pen. He scooped up Cavan with practiced ease and tucked the squirming toddler against his chest. Cavan fussed until he saw Cullen.
“Dada, want a rabbit.”
Cullen held up his hands. “Talk to your father.”
“Papa, want a rabbit.”
“Don’t we all, love.” But Dorian sighed and handed Cavan off to Cullen, a delicate maneuver of bags and child, then went off to talk to the woman in charge.
*
That night, in bed, long after they got Cavan down, Cullen was still restless. He turned over and when that didn’t help, he turned again. The faint scritchings of their new pet echoed down the hall
Dorian rolled into him, draped an arm over his chest and pinned him to stillness. “What’s got you up?” His voice was soft, sleep rough and warm against the back of Cullen’s ear.
“I loved growing up on the farm and I’m worried that Cavan will think that this is all there is to life. Cities and cars and traffic.”
“Nothing wrong with cities.”
“Says the city boy.”
Dorian laughed and squeezed him. “So, we take him to the farmer’s market on weekends—“
Cullen scoffed. “That’s not even real. It’s all set up to fool people who’ve never been on a farm.”
Dorian continued as if Cullen hadn’t interrupted. “And when he’s a little older, we send him to spend a week or two with your sister in the summers. He’ll get to learn how to do whatever it is you do on a farm and I’ll have you all to myself.” He nipped at Cullen’s ear. “Does that sound acceptable?”
He’d rather move out of the city, at least go somewhere with a yard, but they had jobs and friends and a life here. It seemed silly to uproot it because he was feeling restless. “It’ll do.”