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Martin stirred and immediately shifted over, reaching to the other side of the bed. He frowned when all he found was a cold spot. His husband was already awake then. Erik probably woke him up.
With no one to keep him lingering in bed, Martin slid out from under the warm covers and into the cool air. The temperature had dropped the past couple of days. Not that unusual in Norway. They were staying at the vacation house for a few days, escaping the hustle and bustle of London.
Martin threw on warm clothes and trudged into the living room. His brows furrowed when he didn’t see or hear anyone. Dec wouldn’t just take off with Erik.
He found a carafe of freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen. Dec was here then.
It was at that moment that Martin heard a sudden excited squeal from outside. A smile tugged at his lips. His boys were out playing.
There were more noises. The two of them were chatting away. His two yappers. He wouldn’t change them for the world.
Martin grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup. He stepped outside.
An icy chill bit at his cheeks. Steam rose from his mug.
Dec gave a gentle kick to a tiny red football, sending it softly towards a child-size football goal.
“Oh no! It’s going for the goal!” he shouted, a hint of fake panic in his voice.
“My ball! My ball!” Erik shouted.
Their little boy sprinted for it, running awkwardly in his puffy blue and orange winter suit. An adorable wool hat sat atop his head, the bright red puff on it bounced and bobbled with every step. His hands, covered in a pair of waterproof mittens, were outstretched for balance.
Erik made it to the ball and gave it a powerful kick with his left foot. His face scrunched up in the mightiest concentration. The ball flew off to the side.
“I did it!” their son shouted, jumping in the air.
Dec ran forward and grabbed him and threw him high before catching him.
“Yeah, you did! Who’s the greatest midfielder in the world?” he asked.
“I am! I am!”
“That’s right!” Dec said, bringing Erik down and kissing his cheeks.
“Who’s the second greatest midfielder?” Martin asked.
He was smiling so wide that it was hurting his cheeks. He couldn’t help it though. Watching his husband and son play always made his heart swell with joy. Moments like these beat winning the Premier League.
“Daddy!” Erik exclaimed, proudly wrapping his arms around Dec’s neck and hugging him.
Martin slapped a hand over his heart and gasped in fake hurt.
Dec turned around and stuck his tongue out at him.
“I’m the second greatest,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I’ll give him a biscuit later and then we’ll see who is second greatest,” Martin replied in a teasing tone. Their little boy was fickle with his second greatest midfielder title.
Dec laughed.
“Are my boys hungry?”
“I am, pappa!” Erik said, pulling back from Dec’s neck.
“Come on, let’s go inside,” Dec said, putting Erik down.
“My ball!” Erik said, running for the tiny red football.
Martin shook his head at his son’s insistence on bringing the ball everywhere. They even had to have it in his carry on bag on the flight over. It wasn’t like he was going to play in the aisle but it was easier to just take the ball instead of fighting over it.
When Dec came close they kissed each other on the cheek.
“Good morning, kjære1,” Martin said.
“Good morning, love,” Dec said. His eyes twinkled. He stepped past Martin, slipping into the house.
Martin eyed him. Dec had been acting off this past week. Martin couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But Dec had something up his sleeve.
A moment later, Erik came into the house, clutching the tiny red football to his chest. He was holding it like it was precious.
“What would you like for breakfast this morning?” Martin asked, shutting the door behind him.
He paused.
Dec was on one knee, whispering something to Erik.
Erik grinned and hopped up and down.
“I’ll hold your ball while you get it,” Dec said, holding his hand out.
Erik handed over his precious ball and darted into the living room and down the hallway.
Martin’s brows furrowed and he looked from Dec to the hallway and back to Dec.
“What was that about?”
Dec grinned and stood. He pressed a quick kiss to Martin’s cheek.
“Just a little surprise for you.”
“What is it?” Martin asked, grinning now.
“You’ll see,” Dec replied, just giving him a coy smile while he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Pappa!” Erik came running. He had a blue envelope in his hand.
“Is this for me?” Martin asked. He set his mug on the counter and bent down, taking the envelope from Erik’s outstretched hand.
“Yep! Daddy said to give this to you,” Erik said, beaming.
“And you did such a good job,” Dec said, crouching and pulling their son into his arms.
Martin turned the envelope over. On one side, it had ‘Pappa’ written in Dec’s illegible scrawl. Martin shot a curious look at Dec but Dec just grinned up at him. Dec was kneeling now, arms wrapped around Erik.
He couldn’t think of anything that Dec would put in a letter. They had resigned with Arsenal last year so it wasn’t for that.
Martin sliced the letter open with a knife and pulled out a card.
The front of the card had a stork on it and underneath it in pastel green letters was ‘Incoming delivery’. Martin’s heart thumped against his ribs. He gingerly peeled the card open and found a folded sheet of paper. He couldn’t breathe. He delicately spread the paper. There, in grainy black and white, was a tiny, tiny baby.
Martin’s hands shook. He slowly raised his head.
“Pappa!” Erik exclaimed. His jacket was open and he had his shirt in his hands and was spreading it wide.
‘Future big brother’.
“Dec!” Martin was grinning bigger than ever.
He grabbed Dec by the collar of his shirt and yanked him up. He crushed his lips to Dec’s. Dec’s hands buried in his hair and he kissed back with equal fervor.
“Daddy? Pappa?” Erik said, confusion lacing his voice.
The two immediately separated. Martin grabbed Erik and hugged him.
“Do you know what this means?” he asked.
“A sibling?" Erik said, eyes bright and hopeful.
“Yes, you’re getting a sibling,” Martin replied, hugging his soon to be eldest close, “A new midfielder will be joining the family.”
“When?” Erik asked.
Martin paused and turned to Dec, brow arched. He too would like to know this one.
“It won’t be for a while yet, buddy. You’ll have to wait a few months.”
“Months?” Erik asked, looking at Dec and then Martin.
“Yes, months. Your new sibling will be growing inside of me,” Dec said, patting his belly.
Erik’s eyes widened in amazement.
Martin stepped closer and Erik reverently placed a hand on Dec’s belly.
“Wow,” Erik said.
“How far along?” Martin asked in a hushed whisper, conscious of the toddler in his arms.
“Eight weeks,” Dec replied, wrapping an arm around Martin and resting his head against his.
“We’re going to have another future gunner like you,” Martin said to Erik.
Erik’s head shot up.
“Another yapper!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air.
“A yapper?” Dec asked.
Martin ducked his head, cheeks turning red.
“Daddy is a yapper. I’m a yapper,” Erik said, speaking with such pride.
“Dec,” Martin said, an apology already on his lips.
“Your pappa loves yappers,” Dec said, kissing the side of Erik’s head, before giving Martin a cheeky grin.
“I really do,” Martin replied, kissing Dec’s cheek.
“Do you want another yapper?” Dec asked, chuckling, squeezing Martin’s side.
“Two is enough,” Martin said.