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Mark had come home from work later than he had hoped to, but luckily it was still before Will’s bed time. When Mark came home late like this, he didn’t even bother getting changed before seeking out his son to properly put him down for the night. Instead, he usually threw his suit jacket onto a nearby armchair, rolled his shirtsleeves up, and scooped Will up into his arms to cover him in kisses. For almost three years now, this had become Mark’s norm--the stress of the day always melted away the second he saw his son.
Tonight was no different. Will let out a squeal as Mark picked him up over his head, only to drop Will’s face down to his own to place a large, loud kiss against his cheek. Will giggled and threw his arms around Mark’s neck, and Mark pulled him in close to his chest, feeling the warmth of his little body against him. “Hello, my boy,” he said, cradling a hand against the back of Will’s head. “Hi, Da,” Will said gleefully, pulling back to place his own large loud kiss against Mark’s cheek. Mark couldn’t help grimacing a little at the wetness of the kiss--not to mention the stickiness of it (better to not ask)--but relished it nonetheless.
Bridget was leaning against the doorframe of the living room, her arms folded and a broad smile across her face. “Hello, Daddy,” she said, stepping forward to place her own kiss on his lips. Mark held the kiss a little longer than normal, feeling a magnetic pull towards his wife. Sometimes coming home from work was what kept him motivated to go to work--coming home to them both far surpassed any feeling on the planet, and it was his favorite part of everyday. “Hello, Mummy,” he murmured, giving her one of his infamous dimpled smirks.
“I made dinner tonight--chicken and mac’n’cheese. I know it’s your favorite,” Bridget said drolly.
“Is it regular chicken, or dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets?” Mark replied.
“Regular chicken. Sorry to disappoint. Will got the last of the dinosaurs.”
Mark pulled back to look at Will and dramatically pout at his son. “You ate all of the dinosaurs?” he asked Will. Will giggled and nodded. “Well, that wasn’t very nice of you. You know the dinosaurs are Daddy’s favorite.”
Bridget smiled at them both and came back to kiss them individually on the cheek. “My two boys,” she said with a satisfied smile. She had a sparkle in her eye as she soaked up the sight of her husband and son, sharing a bonding moment over dinosaur-shaped poultry. “Are you up to the duty of putting our little paleontologist to sleep tonight?” she asked him, turning around to enter the kitchen.
“It would be my honor to assist the esteemed Dr. William Jones-Darcy to bed this evening,” he said with pomp and circumstance, lifting Will up on and onto his shoulders. Will wrapped his tiny arms around Mark’s head, causing Mark to lose vision in one eye and pull a face at the hair Will was yanking on. Bridget laughed at the sight, and Mark couldn’t help laughing, too. “Shall we head up to bed, Dr. Jones-Darcy?” Mark continued, rolling his free eye up towards Will’s direction.
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Bridget chimed in. “Come here, my love,” she said, gesturing towards William with her hands. Mark leaned forward so that Bridget could grab Will’s face in between her hands and place several loving kisses on it before placing a finger under Mark’s chin to lift it up towards her face. “As for you,” she said, punctuating her sentence with a kiss, “I will see you when you come back downstairs. I’ll make sure to have your dinner ready.”
“If you could cut my chicken breast into the shape of a Diplodocus, I’d be much obliged,” Mark said with sarcastic deadpan. Bridget smirked at him and rolled her eyes.
Mark whisked Will out of the kitchen and up the stairs to lay him down for the night. It took some coaxing--two books, a story of Mark’s own creation, and finally a soft rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”--before Will finally drifted off to sleep. Mark allowed himself to sit next to his son’s bed for a few moments, memorizing the lines of his profile. The button nose that he inherited from Bridget, and the dimpled chin that was undeniably from him, the thick fringe of eyelashes that lay on his high, full cheeks... Perfection doesn’t really begin to even describe it.
Once he was sure that Will was out for good, Mark dipped down to place a gentle kiss on Will’s forehead. “Goodnight, my boy,” he murmured. He had to force himself away from Will’s bedside and back downstairs, else he would sit there the entire night, just watching his son peacefully sleep. The growl from his stomach also helped spur him along.
Mark found Bridget back in the living room, folding laundry in front of the TV. She had placed his dinner on the coffee table with a glass of red wine. Filled with gratitude, Mark stooped down to kiss her on the lips. He placed a thumb on her chin, which then turned into his hand cradling her jawline, which caused him to hungrily kiss her with more passion. Bridget returned the kiss, grabbing the lapels of Mark’s vest as her tongue grazed over his lips and her teeth nibbled on his bottom lip. Mark sank down on the couch next to her, now fully invested in the kiss that he had initiated. His other hand came up, and he cradled her face as covered her mouth with his. Bridget let out a satisfied moan, and Mark couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his face.
“Happy Thursday to me,” she said breathlessly as they broke apart. “What was that for? You haven’t snogged me like that since last night.”
Mark gave her a shy smile. “Just for being you. I’ve been finding you more and more irresistible lately. Besides, you should be snogged like that all the time--remind me of that the next time my kisses are sub par.”
“Noted. Eat, before your dinner gets cold. I’ve been putting this laundry off for a week now, so let me finish it before you decide to distract me again.”
Mark grinned and pulled the coffee table towards him so that he could grab his utensils. They sat next to each other as Bridget folded the clothes in front of her and Mark ate his dinner. Mark knew how much Bridget hated folding clothes, and the pile in front of her was quite significant. He could hear her making small sounds of annoyance as she fished around inside the basket for a matching sock, or when she had to turn a shirt right side out.
When Mark finished, he leaned back against the couch with his wine in his hand. “For being just chicken and mac’n’cheese, you really outdid yourself,” he said, taking a sip.
Bridget smirked and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Thank you. I’ve been watching a lot of cooking shows lately.” She folded a pair of his boxers and laid them on the table in front of her, the pile of folded clothes slowly growing. “Let me know if I’m not folding them correctly,” she said with a sly grin.
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
Bridget smiled as she fished around in the basket again. She pulled out a bright green sock with white shamrocks on it, and he could see the look of confusion on her face as she inspected it. “Is this yours?” she asked, holding it out towards him.
“It is.”
“Where in the world did you get this?”
“I’ll give you two guesses.”
Bridget scrunched her nose as she thought. She held the toe in one hand and the top of it in the other, inspecting it. A look of realization came across her face as she laid it across her thigh. “Your mum?” she said, looking back towards him.
Mark grinned. “Bingo.”
“What is it with your mum and these ridiculous holiday-centric articles of clothing?”
“She’s always been this way. She bought me those for St. Patrick’s Day.”
“And you wore them?”
“Well, it was St. Patrick’s Day. I couldn’t very well go without a little festivity under my trousers.”
Bridget laughed. “The thought of you wearing these ridiculous socks underneath your suit at court is too much for me to handle. I can’t believe you actually wore them.”
“Yet you can believe that I would wear a reindeer jumper?”
“Mark, that’s tradition.”
Mark laughed and ran a hand across her back as she folded the socks into a neat ball. He pressed into a knot at her shoulder blade, and she thankfully moaned as she pressed into his thumb.
“Speaking of reindeer jumpers,” Bridget said. “Where did your mum get ours? You know, the ones from our Christmas card.”
Mark continued to knead at the tender spot in Bridget’s shoulder. He furrowed his brow and said, “I’m not really sure. Why?”
“Well, I just find it interesting that she could find such a teeny one for Will. I was curious what other sizes they had.”
Mark took a sip of his wine. “I can ask her, if you want. Did you want to order him a bigger size for this year?”
Bridget looked back at him. “I was actually thinking smaller…”
Mark gave her a confused look and laid his hand flat against her back. “Smaller? Why in the world would we need a smaller reindeer jumper than the one we have? Will’s already outgrown half of the stuff we bought him for Christmas.”
“Well,” Bridget said, leaning back against the couch. Mark kept his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her in closer to him. “I just think the four of us would look ridiculous, showing up to my mum’s Turkey Curry Buffet, if one of us didn’t match.”
“Bridget, there’s only three of us and we all have a jumper.”
“Well, there are only three of us now , but by December there will be four of us,” Bridget said, her voice trailing off as she looked into Mark’s honey brown eyes. She gave him a small smile, the sparkle in her eye glimmering again.
“Bridget,” Mark said, his voice becoming raspy. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” She bit her bottom lip, trying to suppress a smile that was clearly bubbling to the surface as she nodded. “Bridget, I’m serious. Do you really mean you’re...you’re... pregnant?”
Bridget nodded again, the smile now a grin. “A whole month pregnant, according to the app I downloaded on my phone.” She grabbed his hand in hers, inspecting the gobsmacked look on Mark’s face. “You’re going to be a daddy times two. And this time, there’s no doubt who the father is.”
Mark grinned at her. Another baby! He leaned in and kissed her, unsure of how to react or what to say. This time around, it was much different than the first time she had told him she was pregnant. This time, they were settled into their lives, thankful to have each other back and clearly where they were supposed to be. This time, he didn’t have to step outside to compose himself for fear of showing too much emotion. This time, he could whoop and holler if he wanted to, because he knew Bridget wanted this baby just as much as he did.
“Are you happy?” she asked timidly, chewing a little on her lip. Clearly his lack of response had her squirming.
“Happy? Bridget, I might bloody implode from happiness. This is more than I could ever ask for! Not one, but two children with you? I never thought I’d see this day in a million years!”
Bridget laughed, throwing her head back joyously. “Mark Darcy, you’re something else,” she said.
“Come here, my darling wife,” he murmured, putting his wine glass down and gesturing for her to sit on his lap. Bridget gave a guilty look to the half-folded basket of laundry in front of her, and then looked back at Mark. “Sod the sodding laundry and get over here,” he said, grabbing her hand. He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. Bridget laced her hands around the back of Mark’s head and looked down at him, the glow emanating off of her. “I love you, Bridget Jones-Darcy,” he said as he gazed deeply into the blue of her eyes. “I love you, and I love our son, and I love that wee baby inside of your tummy.”
Bridget smiled and kissed him. “And I love you, Mark Darcy. I love you for putting up with me, and for giving me the things that I never thought I’d have--Will and this wee baby included.”
Mark couldn’t help himself any longer as he leaned forward. The kiss that he had initiated earlier couldn’t compare to this one--this one was a proper snog, saved for the mother of his children .
The term “MILF” was never more applicable than at this moment.