Work Text:
Charlie surfaced slowly from sleep to the sound of muffled giggles outside his and Nick’s bedroom door; he threw an arm out of bed, grasping wildly toward the bedside cabinet for his phone before squinting one eye open to check the time.
6.03 am. On a Sunday. Oh, the audacity.
As he set his phone back down, there was an unmistakable thud of one of his offspring walking into the hallway radiator.
“Owww!” squawked a voice. Theo.
“Shhh!” hissed another. Meelie or Floss, it was too early to distinguish between their high-pitched sass.
“My toe, broken it is,” Theo whispered back dramatically.
Charlie groaned and rolled over, dragging the duvet over his head. Beside him, Nick slept on blissfully, one arm flung over Charlie’s waist, mouth slightly open in a way Charlie would normally find unbearably endearing.
At six-oh-three in the morning, however, it was less endearing and more like grounds for divorce.
Then the door burst open. “AWAKE, YOU MUST BE!”
Three children launched themselves into the room like over-caffeinated raccoons. Before Charlie could react, Meelie had landed neatly at the foot of the bed, wearing what looked like one of his old dressing gowns backwards, with one of Nick’s work ties around her waist as a belt. Theo soon joined her, clutching a cardboard tube in his hands, the remnants of the unicorn wrapping paper they’d used for Samira’s birthday present last weekend still wrapped around it, and for reasons known only to herself, Flossie was wearing swimming goggles, a colander as a hat and standing in a Superman pose.
Interesting.
“Jesus Christ, I’ve just woke up,” Charlie whined. “It’s too early for this.”
“Jesus not, Daddy,” Flossie informed him. “Yoda Day it is.”
“No Floss,” said Theo witheringly. “It’s Star Wars Day.”
“Same thing, basically,” said Meelie. “She’s only seven, she’s trying.”
Nick snorted awake. “Whass gonon?”
And Charlie watched, horrified, as Nick’s face lit up like Christmas morning as he took in the scene.
“Oh my God,” Nick breathed. “It’s May the Fourth.”
Oh no!
Nick sat bolt upright. “Children mine, proud of you I am.”
Charlie’s eyes snapped shut. “Absolutely fuck off,” he whispered under his breath so only Nick could hear, making him chuckle, as the children screamed with delight.
“Joined us, Papa has!” Theo cried.
“Strong with the Force, he is,” Meelie agreed.
Flossie climbed onto Nick’s back. “Ride him, I must.”
“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Charlie muttered.
Nick, already fully committed, pointed dramatically across the room. “Coffee. Bring me coffee, someone must.”
“You can get your own bloody coffee,” Charlie said.
Nick gasped. “To the Dark Side, Daddy has turned.”
The traitor. The utter traitor.
Charlie pushed himself upright, salt-and-pepper curls sticking up everywhere, eyes barely open. “I have been awake for approximately twelve seconds, and already I hate all four of you.”
“No, you like us,” Nick chuckled.
“I really don’t.”
“Celebrate Star Wars Day, we shall,” Meelie insisted, as she adjusted her makeshift jedi robe on her shoulders. “Pancakes shaped like Darth Vader, perhaps.”
“Burn the pancakes, Daddy will,” Theo added helpfully.
“I would never!” Charlie said, aghast at the thought. “And Papa can make the pancakes today, if he’s encouraging this madness.”
Flossie had now clambered off Nick’s back, and was shaking Charlie vigorously. “Tiny green man voice, do it, Daddy!”
“No.”
“Do it, you must!”
“No.”
“Coward, you are,” Meelie said.
Nick collapsed against Charlie laughing. “Come on, Char. Just one sentence.”
Charlie glared at his husband. Nick had the nerve to look gorgeous this early in the morning, soft hair, sleepy eyes, broad shoulders bare above the duvet.
“Remember our vows?” Charlie said darkly. “In sickness and health? This counts as sickness.”
Nick kissed his cheek. “Grumpy, you are.”
“Divorced, we’ll be.”
The children shrieked with laughter again. Theo waved his cardboard sabre. “Battle him, Papa! Defeat the Sith!”
“I’m not the Sith,” Charlie snapped.
“You are. All in black, you sleep,” said Meelie, gesturing to Charlie’s T-shirt.
“These are pyjamas!”
“Suspicious, very.”
Flossie leaned closer to Charlie’s face. “Wrinkly, you are.”
Nick howled.
Charlie stared at his youngest child. “I beg your pardon?”
“Wrinkly and old.”
Nick wiped tears from his eyes. “She’s not wrong.”
Charlie shoved him weakly. “Fuck off.”
Nick caught Charlie’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Love you, I do.”
That, annoyingly, made Charlie’s chest warm. Then Theo jumped directly onto his kidneys, and the warmth vanished.
“Right,” Charlie said, voice deadly calm. “Everyone off the bed before I start yeeting children into the garden.”
“Violence is not the Jedi way,” Meelie said.
“It is the tired parent way.”
Theo tried to rouse Charlie by poking his forehead. “Rise, Father. We have work to do.”
“Wrong franchise, that’s not Star Wars,” Charlie snorted.
“I’ll allow it,” Nick insisted, as he clambered out of bed and picked all three children up at once. “I am one with the Force,” he yelled as the children screamed happily.
“You’re 43, you are one slipped disc away from A&E,” Charlie deadpanned, curling up again on his side.
Nick set down Meelie and Theo, swung Floss into a piggyback and deepened his Yoda voice. “Breakfast, we need.”
“Pancakes!” yelled Theo.
“Pancakes!” echoed Flossie.
Nick grinned. “Kitchen, we march.”
“No,” Charlie said, adjusting his satin pillow behind his head. “You march. I’m dead.”
Nick looked scandalised. “Abandon your family?”
“Yes.”
“Cold, your heart is.” Nick leaned over as Floss gripped on for dear life, and kissed him properly this time, slow and soft and smelling faintly of sleep. “Come downstairs in five minutes,” he murmured in his normal voice. “I’ll make your coffee.”
Charlie opened one eye. “With oat milk?”
“Yes, princess.”
“And pancakes not shaped like anything from the mind of George Lucas?”
“Yes, princess, you can have boring round pancakes.”
“And control your feral offspring?”
Nick considered this, glancing at Meelie and Theo currently having a sabre battle with the wrapping paper tube and her school hockey stick as Theo roared, “You underestimate my power!”
“No promises.”
Charlie sighed. “Fine.”
Nick and the three children left the room, all of them humming the Imperial March. Seconds later, Flossie ran back, scrambled onto the bed, and planted a sticky kiss on Charlie’s forehead.
“Love you, Daddy I am!” she said, and frowned. “No. Wait, that’s wrong. Love you, I do am.”
She sprinted away before he could respond, leaving Charlie laying there in the sudden quiet. Then from downstairs, he heard Nick yell “No hitting your sister with the spatula!”
“An accident, it was!” Theo shouted.
“Lies, those are!” Meelie declared.
Charlie smiled despite himself.
Fifteen minutes later, he shuffled into the kitchen to find utter chaos: Nick was stood at the hob in an apron with pink, purple and blue collie dogs on it, already pouring pancake batter into pans; Theo and Meelie were still continuing their Yoda syntax battle, intertwining Star Wars quotes with mild insults; and Flossie had done her usual morning activity of putting cereal directly onto the table ‘for the birds’, though the kitchen was indoors and therefore, obviously contained no birds.
Nick looked up when Charlie entered. “Hello there.”
“General Kenobi!” all three children parroted in response.
Charlie wondered if it was too late to turn around and head out to the Upper Crust for a peaceful coffee instead, but accepted the mug that Nick handed him and took a long grateful sip.
Flossie ran up and tugged Charlie’s sleeve. “Come breakfast, Daddy. Death Star pancakes, shall you have?”
“No, only round ones for me, Papa promised.”
“The Death Star is round,” Meelie and Theo said in unison, before claiming jinx.
Flossie narrowed her eyes. “Do or do not. There is no try.”
Charlie stared back at her. “Who taught her that?”
Nick turned from the hob, proudly raising a hand.
“Of course, I should have known.”
Flossie tugged his sleeve again. “Sit by me, you must,” she said, and who was Charlie to argue anymore? He followed his youngest child and sat in the yellow chair, where she immediately climbed into his lap.
Flossie patted Charlie’s grumpy face. “Sad, Daddy is.”
“There’s still good in him,” Nick said with a smile, approaching the table and sliding a plate of pancake toward him like an offering to a god.
“Love Daddy I do… sometimes when loud he is not,” Flossie added thoughtfully.
Charlie paused, Nick clearly trying not to laugh.
“That’s oddly fair,” Charlie admitted.
Nick leaned over and kissed Charlie’s cheek. “I know.”
Charlie blinked slowly, still half-asleep. “Did you just Han Solo me before I’ve finished my coffee?”
Nick didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
The kitchen went quiet for half a second. Then Theo gasped out “You were the chosen one!”
“I was meant to be chosen for sleep,” Charlie replied immediately.
Nick laughed into his shoulder. “You heard him, kids.”
Flossie scrambled back onto her own chair. “Daddy chosen! Daddy special!”
“I am not special,” Charlie said. “I am tired.”
Nick set his hands gently on Charlie’s waist as he hugged him from behind, soft and warm and entirely too cheerful for this hour.
“Nick,” Charlie warned, already suspicious.
Nick pressed another kiss to his cheek. “I know.”
Charlie narrowed his eyes. “Don’t start again.”
Nick, unfortunately, started again immediately. “I know.”
Charlie stared at him. “Menace.”
“I know,” Nick said again, delighted, absolutely thriving in the chaos he had helped create.
Charlie looked around the kitchen: Three children, all sticky and loud and dressed in various degrees of improvised Jedi attire; Nick, golden retriever husband, flipping pancakes before 7 am like it was a sacred calling.
He sighed deeply, the sound of a man surrendering to inevitability. “You’re all insane,” he said affectionately. “Fine. Happy Star Wars Day, you absolute weirdos. I hope you know, Nicholas, that I’m blaming you for all of this.”
Theo raised his spoon. “As you should, Father.”
Meelie nodded. “Accountability, we accept.”
Charlie chuckled, and was about to pick up his fork when Nick leaned in, and spoke quietly, just for Charlie this time.
“I know.”