Work Text:
Gently, I knock on the door of Benedict’s library, knowing full well that he is currently deeply engrossed in the script of his next project. “Come in,” he says quietly, his deep, low voice sounding distracted, and quietly I open the door. “We just wanted to come and say goodnight quickly,” I smile, holding our son in my arms as I slowly approach Benedict behind the big, old, oak desk.
My heart jumps a little as I see his face turn from stern and focused to loving and enchanted. “What a lovely change from work,” he smiles and gets up before he walks around the heavy wooden desk to take Noah from my embrace. “Goodnight Daddy,” our little one mumbles, burying his face in his father’s shirt, his ginger hair the same shade as that of Benedict. “Goodnight, my love. Have sweet dreams. What story have you chosen for tonight?,” he asks quietly, cradling the four-year-old whose short arms are resting around his father’s neck. “Guess How Much I Love You,” he answers proudly and I bite my lip as I watch the two of them. “That is a marvellous choice, Noah. Your Mummy loves that book,” Benedict ‘whispers’ in his ear and I laugh quietly, blushing a little as I gaze down at my feet. “I do indeed,” I grin shyly, looking back up at my husband and son.
“Do you mind if I join you?,” he asks, looking back at his son and Noah shakes his head. He loves him infinitely and, as every little boy, craves his father’s attention. Days and nights where Daddy is ‘on duty’ are his favourites and it’s almost painfully wonderful to see his little face light up whenever Benedict spends time with him. “Well then, go and get the book and I’ll be in your room in a few minutes,” my husband smiles lovingly, setting Noah down onto his feet ere giving me a gentle kiss. “I’ll be right up,” he breathes and I nod before taking my son’s hand as we leave the room to go upstairs.
***
“...That’s very far, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. He was almost too sleepy to think anymore,” I read with a smile, very well aware of my son’s constant yawning in the bed next to me and Benedict, who is watching us tenderly. “Then he looked beyond the thornbushes, out into the big dark night. Nothing could be farther than the sky. ‘I love you right up to the moon,’ he said and closed his eyes. ‘Oh, that’s far,’ said Big Nutbrown Hare. ‘That is very, very far.’ Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves,” I read on, while Benedict gently pulls Noah’s blanket higher so it reaches almost all the way up to his chin. “He leaned over and kissed him goodnight,” I continue quietly, watching Benedict do just that. “Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile, ‘I love you right up to the moon - and back.’,” I finish, breathing a soft kiss onto Noah’s forehead, whose eyes are closed already, his little fingers holding onto his cuddly toy as his chest moves gently up and down with his regular breathing. “And I love you, too,” my husband whispers and for a moment we just watch him sleep.
“Are you finished for tonight?,” I ask quietly, my hand resting in his as we go back downstairs, the wooden staircase creaking a little underneath our feet. “I can be, if you want me to,” he smiles and I nod instantly, eliciting an amused laugh from Benedict. “What’s so funny?,” I grin, poking him gently in the side as we reach the library again, the fire in the old Victorian fireplace bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. “Nothing, darling. I’m just happy to be with you,” Benedict smiles and I bite my lip as he watches me, his ocean-blue eyes shimmering in the light of the fire.
“Let’s make another one,” I mumble as I put my arms around him while he leans onto the desk. “Another what?” Confused, he furrows his brows, looking down at me, his big hands resting on my back, his thumbs gently stroking over my spine. “Let’s make another baby,” I repeat in a whisper. “I know it hasn’t been easy the last time but...I want another child. I want to give you a little baby daughter, a princess you can spoil rotten and who demands you play tea party with her which you will probably gladly do just to see that proud, happy smile on her chubby little face. I want Noah to be a big brother, to grow up with a sibling, one he can play with and plot against us with. I want a girl whose boyfriend you can interrogate before her first date and who you can give away at the altar when she’s old enough...I want another child that we both can love just as much as we love Noah - all the way to the moon and back,” I finish and he simply stares at me, mouth slightly agape.
I’m nervous, to be quite frank. I know how much Benedict loves his son but I am also very aware of the difficulties after our son’s birth. I hadn’t looked at him for almost three months, I was almost disgusted by him, and I am still deeply ashamed of that even though it was not my fault. “Benedict, please say something,” I whisper, my eyes fixed on his, hoping for any kind of response from my husband of 4 years. “I don’t know what to say,” he breathes, his hand now cupping my face. “I have wanted another child ever since we had Noah but...I thought you don’t,” Benedict confesses, an apologetic smile on his luscious lips. “But I do,” I breathe, leaning into his touch ere I press a kiss onto his palm. “Make love to me, Benedict. Right here, right now. Please,” I add in a hushed whisper before his lips cover mine eagerly.