dads snuggling with chubby freckled babbs (◡ ‿ ◡ ✿)
David won’t sleep when the rest of them are awake.
That’s not entirely true. He tires himself out of course. At three months old, he can’t keep going as long as he’d like, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. He’s incredibly social for a baby, his wide blue eyes always following them around the room, tracking conversations, trying to be a part of things. It’s sweet, Erik thinks—he even babbles at them while they’re talking, like he’s trying to join in, though he’s reacting to the sound of their voices more than anything, and shrieks with delight when something pleases him. That makes Charles happiest of all. He’d been worried since the start, trying to walk the line between embracing David’s telepathy while nurturing his language skills as well, and Charles doesn’t have to do more than smile for Erik to know what a relief he finds it that David vocalizes with them, even if he’s too little to have any comprehension of what they’re saying or for his baby talk to have any real meaning.
Still, as endearing as it is to watch him watch them, it very quickly leads to a cranky baby or a cranky three year old or cranky parents or, more than likely, all three. They’ve gotten used to stealing naps where they can get them, trading off herding the kids and five minutes of sleep on the couch.
Today, though, Charles has announced that they’re all going to sit together. Quiet time, Charles calls it, and Erik is skeptical, but once Charles moves from the wheelchair to the couch and wedges himself into the corner, Lorna doesn’t hesitate to abandon her toys to join him, scampering up into his lap.
"Are you going to read a story, Dada?" she asks, which is a fair question. This does tend to be where Charles sits when he reads her stories.
"We’re going to listen to someone else read all of us a story," Charles says.
"Daddy and Davey too?" she asks.
"Daddy and Davey too," Charles confirms, and gives Erik a Look. Erik shrugs and does one more circuit around the room with David, who’s struggling to keep his eyes open but refuses to give into his nap, and then sits down on the other side of the couch. Charles reaches across and hooks two fingers into his belt to pull him closer. Erik takes the hint and slides closer until he’s pressed up against Charles’ side. David is still curled up against his chest, blinking sleepily at Lorna and Charles, and Lorna strokes his hair with almost comical gentleness.
"He has so much hair," Charles murmurs.
"Did I have that much hair when I was a baby?" Lorna asks, peering up at Charles.
"You didn’t," Charles says. "You had very, very pale blonde hair. It was almost white and just peachfuzz on your head." He strokes her hair for emphasis, long and green and curling at the ends, an indicator that she carries the x-gene sequences, even if she has yet to manifest any specific abilities or physical alterations. "And then when you started to get older, it started coming in thicker and green."
Lorna yawns loudly, and instead of covering her mouth, presses her whole face into Charles’ shoulder.
"Green is best," she says. "You said there was a story."
Oh my god this is beyond cute.