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The floor was a minefield of brightly colored plastic toys and discarded burp cloths, the universal hallmark of first-time parents, but on the couch, the rest of the world completely ceased to exist.
Est was curled up in the corner of the cushions, his knees tucked tightly against his chest to form a secure, makeshift cradle. Resting comfortably against his thighs was Wesley. At just a few months old, their baby boy was a tiny, soft bundle of absolute wonder, his wide, dark eyes blinking up at the world with innocent curiosity.
William was pressed right up against Est’s side, mirroring his posture exactly. Their shoulders rubbed together, their warmth bleeding through their shirts, grounded by the shared, beautiful exhaustion of new parenthood.
The last few months had been a dizzying, beautiful blur of survival. Their old, predictable routine had been completely obliterated the moment they brought Wesley home, replaced by a chaotic schedule dictated entirely by a tiny, high-demand human. They had quickly learned that "sleeping through the night" was a myth invented by people who wanted to hurt their feelings.
There were the classic struggles, the endless debates at three in the morning over whose turn it was to change the diaper, the frantic, middle-of-the-night Google searches over a slightly weird cough, and the profound, humbling terror of Wesley’s first real blowout diaper, which had ended with both of them sitting on the bathroom floor, covered in mystery fluids, wondering if they were entirely unqualified for this.
But amidst the bone-deep tiredness, there were the ridiculous, core-memory milestones. Like the time William tried to swaddle Wesley so tightly he looked like a tiny, angry burrito, only for the baby to break free in three seconds flat and give them a look of sheer smugness. Or the first time Wesley accidentally learned how to blow spit bubbles, a discovery he took so seriously he spent an entire afternoon doing it until his whole chin was soaked, while William and Est watched him like he was a prodigy performing at Carnegie Hall. They had mastered the art of eating dinner with one hand, navigating the house entirely in the dark to avoid squeaky floorboards, and finding intense, romantic connection in a shared, silent look over a crying baby.
Now, looking back, the early panic was fading into something stable. They were still exhausted, but they were a team.
For a while, they just existed there, talking in that quiet shorthand language. Est traced a gentle finger down Wesley’s tiny nose, making a soft popping sound with his lips. Wesley let out a high-pitched, bubbly coo, kicking his little arms in slow motion.
William watched them when a sudden wave of affection hitting him so hard it made his chest ache. He got that familiar, mischievous glint in his eye, the one Est knew usually preceded trouble.
"Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?" William teased, his voice dropping into a dramatic, playful growl.
Before Wesley could even process the change in tone, William leaned in to deliver a heavy dose of aggressive affection. He hovered his hands over the baby's tummy, wiggling his fingers wildly before swooping in to give Wesley’s chubby cheeks a series of hyperactive, gentle pinches. He nudged his face against the baby's neck, making exaggerated growling noises, shaking his shoulders in a mock attack of pure love.
Wesley burst into a breathless, full-bellied baby giggle, his tiny fists flailing in delight as he squirmed against Est's legs. Every time William poked his sides, the little guy let out another high-pitched, bubbly squeal, completely defenseless against his dad's playful assault.
Est threw his head back, his own laughter ringing out bright and infectious, his heart melting entirely at the sight. It was impossibly cute, but after a few more pokes, he reached out, gently swatting William’s shoulder.
"Wait, wait," Est gasped between giggles, trying to school his face into something resembling authority. "Weren't we literally just trying to get him to sleep?"
William paused, his fingers still hovering like spiders over Wesley's tummy, a guilty but unrepentant grin on his face.
"Uh. Right. The mission."
They had only just finished eating lunch, a rushed, lukewarm meal they’d practically inhaled standing up in the kitchen, and the ultimate goal of the afternoon was supposed to be a synchronized nap. The plan had been foolproof: feed Wesley, put him down, and then crash onto the bed themselves to catch up on the hours of sleep they’d lost over the past hours. If they were blessed with a true miracle and woke up before Wesley did, they might even get a chance to tackle the living room, load the dishwasher, and pretend they had their lives together for twenty minutes.
But instead, William had gone and revved the baby's engine right back up.
Wesley was still panting happily, blinking up at them with wide-awake, excited eyes, completely ruined for bedtime. But then William suddenly stops, an idea striking him. He leaned closer to Est, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.
"Have you seen those ASMR videos online? The ones where they do the hair washing and the head massages?"
Est’s eyebrows raised in amusement, a skeptical but thoroughly entertained smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Yeah? What about them? Don't tell me you’ve been watching whispered towel-folding tutorials at three in the morning again."
"First of all, that was a very soothing video and it helped me through a tough night," William defended in a fierce whisper, holding up a finger. "Second of all, no. This is a specialized scalp massage technique. I saw a guy do it to a golden retriever and it fell asleep in six seconds flat. If it works on a high-energy mammal, it works on a baby."
"Liam, he's a human child, not a puppy," Est laughed quietly, though he leaned in closer anyway, fascinated. "And he is currently vibrating with adrenaline because you just growled at his tummy."
"Watch this," William whispered, his face deadpan with mock seriousness as he rolled up his sleeves like a stage magician preparing for a grand illusion. "I’m going to hypnotize him, just give me complete silence. Protect the aura."
"Protect the aura," Est repeated, rolling his eyes but fully invested now.
With the intense focus of a world-class surgeon, William carefully brought his hands toward Wesley's head. He paused for a moment, his posture rigid with concentration, ensuring his fingers stayed well away from the baby's delicate soft spot. Wesley blinked up at him, his tiny chest heaving with lingering giggles, completely unaware of the psychological warfare about to be deployed against him.
William placed the pads of his fingers at the very front of Wesley’s hairline. Then, with agonizing slowness, he executed two long, sweeping, feather-light strokes across the top of his head, combing gently through the impossibly soft baby fuzz.
The transformation was immediate.
It was as if William had found a literal off-switch hidden in the baby's scalp. Wesley’s tiny jaw slackened, dropping open. The frantic kicking of his little legs ceased instantly, freezing mid-air before dropping heavily back onto Est's thighs. His eyelids grew incredibly heavy, fluttering once, twice, fighting a losing battle against gravity before shutting completely tight. His entire face went completely blank, washed over by a look of profound, unadulterated bliss.
William kept his fingers perfectly still, hovering just above Wesley's forehead, staring at the sudden, absolute peace of their child.
William and Est locked eyes. The sheer absurdity of how fast it worked hit them at the same exact time.
Est clamped a hand over his mouth so hard his knuckles turned white, his shoulders shaking violently as he tried to stifle a loud burst of hysterical laughter. His face turned bright red, tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the sheer effort of keeping quiet. William bit his bottom lip so hard it lost all color, his chest heaving as he desperately tried to keep his composure. He looked between the completely passed-out baby and Est's trembling shoulders, his own face contorting into a grimace of suppressed, silent wheezing.
"Oh my god," Est managed to breathe out, a tiny, high-pitched gasp that barely escaped past his fingers. "What is this? Is he broken?"
"I told you," William wheezed back in a barely audible thread of a voice, his eyes wide with a mix of terror and absolute triumph. "The modern magician method. It never fails."
Seeing that they were on the precipice of a full-blown comedy routine, Est decided to abandon all remaining sanity and lean into the bit entirely. If William was going to play the world’s most intense baby hypnotist, Est was going to provide the premium audio experience.
Holding his breath to steady his trembling lips, he leaned his head down, bringing his mouth just inches away from Wesley’s little ear to provide the ultimate soundtrack. Est started making soft, rhythmic clicking sounds with his tongue, the kind of exaggerated triggers that filled the late-night videos William loved so much. Then came the delicate, impossibly airy whispers, complete with heavy emphasis on the consonants.
"’Ssshhh...’ scratchy fingers... soft sounds... sleep time...’" Est breathed into the quiet room, his eyes dancing with suppressed mirth as he looked up at William, fully committing to the ASMR persona. "’No more giggles... only tiny clouds... sleep...’"
William was nearly dying. He had to squeeze his eyes shut and bury his chin into Est's shoulders, his whole torso shaking with suffocating laughter at Est’s flawless delivery. Still, he forced his hands to remain steady, executing a third, agonizingly slow stroke over Wesley's forehead to match the tempo of Est’s rhythmic whispers.
Between the soothing, repetitive motion of William’s gentle touch and the hypnotic, whispered mouth sounds echoing right next to his ear, it was absolute sensory overload for the little guy. Wesley’s tiny brain simply gave up. He didn't stand a single chance.
With one final, dramatic, whistling sigh through his nose, the baby went completely, hilariously limp. His muscles melted like warm butter on a hot pan. The last bit of tension left his tiny frame, and his little head lazily lolled entirely over to the side, resting heavy and dead asleep against the fabric of Est’s sweatpants.
The sheer ridiculousness of the victory was too much to contain.
They finally let out their muffled giggles, burying their faces directly into each other's shoulders to smother the sound. Est’s forehead pressed into William’s neck, his back shaking as the pent-up laughter finally escaped in quiet, wheezing gasps. William wrapped a heavy arm around Est, pulling both him and their miraculously defeated boy impossibly closer, their combined warmth wrapping around them like a shield against the rest of the messy house.
"Can't believe that actually worked," Est whispered, his voice dropping into a awe-struck murmur now that the bit was finally over.
He carefully rested his head back against the top of the couch, letting out a slow breath while keeping his lower body entirely locked. He didn't dare move a muscle, terrified of disturbing the tiny, human anchor currently dead to the world on his thighs.
"We’ve tried bouncing him, tried the white noise machine, walking around the house... and all it took was a fake internet trend?"
William let out a rumbling huff of a laugh, his arm still draped heavily over Est’s shoulders, grounding them both. He used his free hand to gently tug the edge of the fleece blanket around Wesley's legs, tucking the soft fabric around the baby's tiny, curled toes with maternal care.
"Hey, don't disrespect the craft," William shot back in a fierce, mock-offended whisper. "I put my actual heart and soul into those strokes. It’s all about the hand-to-scalp ratio, babe. It’s a delicate science."
"Right, sorry. My mistake, Professional Masseur Jakrapatr," Est teased, turning his head just enough to look at him.
Up close, the dim, amber lighting of the living room wasn't enough to hide the faint dark circles bruising the skin under William's eyes, a permanent, matching fixture for both of them over the last few months. They were both running on lukewarm caffeine and pure survival instinct, their bodies operating on a clock that no longer belonged to them.
But right now, looking at William, those tired lines were completely softened by an expression of pure, unadulterated contentment. He looked younger like this, stripped of the daily anxieties of diaper counts, rigid feeding schedules, and the constant fear of doing something wrong. In this quiet light, he was just a man completely captivated by the small, fragile family they had built together.
God, Est loved this man. It was a heavy, grounding realization that hit him in waves during quiet moments like this, making all the sleepless nights and chaotic days feel entirely worth it.
"Exactly. Thank you," William whispered back, a soft smile replacing his playful smirk. He leaned forward, closing the small distance between them to press a gentle, lingering kiss against Est’s temple. He didn't pull away immediately, choosing to leave his forehead resting right there against Est's skin for a long moment, just breathing him in, letting the familiar scent of him steady his racing heart.
He slid his gaze down to their son, then back up to Est.
"How are your legs holding up, by the way? You look like a human pretzel."
"They're going entirely numb," Est admitted honestly, a wry smile twitching on his lips despite the fact that he was rapidly losing all sensation from the waist down. There wasn't a single shred of actual complaint in his voice, though.
"I think the blood flow stopped somewhere around the second whisper. But if I move a single millimeter, he’s going to wake up, look me dead in the eye, and start crying again. I’m not risking the peace, I live here now."
William chuckled, a low, rumbling vibration that Est could feel radiating directly against his own ribs.
"A noble sacrifice," William murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Don't worry, I’ll fetch supplies for the hostage. What does the prisoner require to survive the shift? Water? A snack? A full-body massage?"
"Water would be an absolute miracle. My throat is like a desert," Est breathed, casting a cautious look down at Wesley’s perfectly still face. "And... maybe that bag of chips from the counter? If you can somehow manage to reach it and open it without making the bag crinkle."
William frowned, his face twisting into a mask of mock seriousness as he stared at Est.
"An uncrinklable chip bag? My love, I am a dad, not a wizard. You’re asking for sorcery.”
Despite the dramatic protest, he slowly slid his arm out from behind Est's back, moving a single centimeter at a time.
Halfway through, Wesley sudden twitch, letting out a soft noise in his sleep as his little fingers curled tighter against Est’s leg.
Neither of them breathed. Est turned into actual stone, and William remained suspended in mid-air, holding his breath until the baby finally settled back into his limp, deep slumber, his chest resuming its slow, even rise and fall.
Once he was completely free, William carefully stood up. The moment his feet hit the floor, his spine popped, and he had to swallow down a quiet groan of relief, twisting his torso side to side to loosen up his stiff muscles. He looked down at Est with a triumphant, silent smirk.
Turning toward the kitchen, William began his journey across the minefield. He tiptoed across the living room with exaggerated, carefully navigating around a noisy plastic rattle and stepping perfectly over the infamous squeaky floorboard near the television, a structural flaw in the apartment they had learned to identify and avoid on day three of bringing Wesley home.
Est watched him navigate the kitchen, his heart feeling ridiculously full. A year ago, their lives had been completely, unrecognizably different. As public figures, their schedules hadn't belonged to them; they had been a whirlwind of high-profile jobs, endless responsibilities, interviews, and industry events. It had been loud, fast-paced, and filled with more sleep, but the moment Est got pregnant, the trajectory of their entire world shifted drastically.
Thinking back to how they found out always brought a smile to Est's face. It had been a chaotic Tuesday in their old apartment. Est had been feeling off for weeks, dismissing it as fatigue from his brutal schedule, until he finally took a test on a whim. When the two lines appeared, he had walked into the living room, completely stunned, and just handed the plastic stick to William without a word.
William had stared at it, his brain short-circuiting as he tried to process the information. When the realization finally clicked, William let out a gasp so violent and dramatic it sounded like he’d been struck by lightning, and then his knees simply gave out. He went down like a heavy sack of rice, hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud. Est had ended up sitting on the floor right next to him, eyes blurry with tears, laughing hysterically at the absolute absurdity of the faint-hearted reaction from the man who was supposed to be his rock.
The process that followed had been a masterclass in military-grade secrecy. They shared the news only with their closest inner circle of family and friends, shielding the fragile magic of it from the public eye. At the time, Est was right in the middle of a demanding shooting schedule. Those weeks had been an absolute test of nerves, mostly for William, who practically clawed at the walls with anxiety every single time Est stepped foot on set, constantly texting to make sure he was sitting down, hydrated, and not overexerting himself. Thankfully, by the fourth month, the project wrapped up, and Est could finally breathe and focus entirely on growing the tiny life inside him.
To keep the media from spinning wild rumors, they managed to keep the entire pregnancy under wraps until the very end, releasing a carefully worded, joint announcement stating they would be taking an extended hiatus from the public eye to focus on their growing family. The internet had practically melted, but by then, they were already safely ensconced in their new reality.
In fact, the very day of the announcement, their closest friends had gathered right here in this new house to celebrate. The move itself had been entirely fueled by William's protective, anxious energy.
Within forty-eight hours of fainting on the floor of their old apartment, William had gone into a state of hyper-fixation, spending two straight nights staring at real estate listings as if he were planning a high-stakes Navy SEAL operation. By the fourth day, he already had a binder full of viewings and furniture catalogs. William was a naturally anxious man who coped by planning for every single variable, but Est loved him exactly as he was, anxieties, binders, and all.
Looking at William now, carefully opening a kitchen cabinet with just the tip of his finger to prevent even the slightest slam, Est knew he wouldn't trade this chaotic, exhausted reality for all the red carpets in the world.
A moment later, William returned. He hadn't brought the chips, clearly deciding that the crinkly plastic foil was a high-risk liability not worth testing against a sleeping infant. Instead, he held a glass of water with a bendy straw in it.
He knelt down on the floor right in front of Est's knees, holding the glass up at the perfect angle so Est wouldn't have to lean forward and accidentally shift his weight. Est gave him a look of soul-deep gratitude and took a few long, desperate sips through the straw.
"Lifesaver," Est breathed when he finally pulled away.
"Just doing my duty," William whispered back, a tender grin tugging at his lips as he set the glass softly onto the coffee table. Instead of climbing back onto the couch, he opted to stay right there on the floor, resting his forearms against the edge of the cushion, right next to Wesley’s sleeping form. He looked up at Est, his eyes reflecting the warm, golden glow of the lamp. "Look at him, he really has your pout when he sleeps."
Est looked down at their son, his chest tightening with that familiar, overwhelming wave of protective love. Wesley’s mouth was still slightly open, his chubby cheeks squished up in a soft pout against the fabric of Est’s sweatpants, his little chest rising and falling in peaceful intervals.
"I just hope he inherits your patience," Est whispered with a self-deprecating smile gracing his lips. "God knows the kid is going to need it if he’s anything like me."
"Too late, he already wants everything on his time," William smiled softly, reaching out with absolute precision to feather-lightly touch a single strand of baby hair that was sticking straight up like a tiny antenna. "But he definitely gets his rhythm from me. Did you see those giggles earlier? Absolute my cope. The kid has immaculate comedic timing."
"He was literally laughing at your ridiculous face, sweetheart," Est countered, rolling his eyes but unable to keep the affection out of his voice.
"A laugh is a laugh, my love. I’ll take the credit regardless."
William leaned his head back against the cushion, his face now just inches from Est’s knee. They fell back into that comfortable quiet, that only exists in the deep, stolen hours of the night when the rest of the world is asleep and the frantic pace of the day finally grinds to a halt. William’s hand slid across the fabric of the sofa to find Est’s free one, his thumb tracing lazy, soothing circles on the back of his knuckles.
They were tired, bone-deep, overwhelmingly tired, and they both knew that tomorrow would inevitably bring a relentless new round of diapers, rigid feeding schedules, and sudden crying fits. But right now, the atmosphere in the room was incredibly sweet, a small bubble of domestic bliss.
The only problem was that the numbness in Est’s legs was rapidly approaching a critical, irreversible level.
"Okay, escape plan," Est whispered, narrowing his eyes playfully down at their son while keeping his lower half completely paralyzed. "How do we get out of here without waking the beast? If he wakes up right now, I swear I’m going to cry right along with him."
William let out a smirk, his head still resting heavily against the cushion, just inches from Est’s knees.
"The plan is simple," William murmured. "I transform into a human crane, hoist Wesley up with absolute precision, and you roll out of the way. Any noise or shifting, and it's officially your fault."
“Oh, really? Officially my fault?” Est retorted, his voice dropping into a ironic challenge.
He slowly arched a single eyebrow, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was the exact expression that always, without fail, completely disarmed William. Right on cue, William froze like a well-trained puppy, his playful smirk melting away as he stared up at Est, his eyes wide and brilliant with total fascination.
“Last time I checked, Professional Masseur Jakrapatr, I didn't create this little accomplice all by myself,” Est whispered, his eyes dancing with suppressed mischief. “If the crane drops the cargo, or if the cargo triggers the alarm, we both sink with the ship.”
William narrowed his eyes, clearly enjoying the playful banter, though he didn't dare move his head from where it was resting near Est’s knee.
“A joint venture, huh?” William murmured back, his gaze locked onto Est's lips. “And what exactly does the crane get if the extraction is successful? Because I think a flawless operation deserves a pretty significant reward.”
Est’s crooked smile widened, a beautifully wicked glint flashing in his eyes.
“Lean closer and I'll tell you.”
Hooked completely, William didn't even hesitate. He pushed himself up from the floor, leaning his upper body closer to Est's face to catch the supposed secret. But the exact second he turned his head, expecting a whispered answer, Est was faster.
Moving his free hand with sudden, effortless purpose, Est cupped the back of William’s neck, locking him in place, and pulled him straight down into a kiss.
William froze for a fraction of a second, completely caught off guard by the sudden ambush, but a wide smile instantly melted against Est’s lips. He leaned into the weight of the kiss, his hand instinctively reaching up to rest against the back of the sofa, deepening the embrace. For a brief moment, the numbness in Est's legs, the heavy exhaustion of the past few months, and the messy living room all dissolved into the background.
It didn't even last three seconds.
Suddenly, Wesley gave a sharp, violent twitch against Est’s thighs, one of those classic baby startle reflexes, his little arms flying out as if he were falling in a dream.
Both of them broke the kiss instantly, freezing dead in their tracks with wide eyes. They stared down at Wesley, completely holding their breath. Wesley let out a dramatic sigh, smacked his lips together as if chewing on air, but by some stroke of divine luck, his eyelids stayed shut as he drifted right back into sleep.
William and Est exhaled at the exact same time, their shoulders dropping in profound relief.
“That was entirely too close.” William muttered, his heart visibly pounding in his throat, earning one last silent laugh from Est.
Deciding not to push their luck any further, William finally slid his forearms underneath Wesley’s limp body. Est held his breath, slowly unraveling his pretzel position as the dead weight of their son was lifted from his legs.
William pulled the baby against his chest, tucking Wesley’s head securely into the crook of his neck. The little boy let out a soft snuffling and completely surrendered to his father’s warmth.
Holding the absolute center of their universe with the utmost care, William stood up slowly. He cast one final complicit glance back at Est, giving him a quiet nod before beginning his carefully rehearsed tip-toe toward the dark hallway, carrying their baby boy in his arms to finally lay him down in his crib.