The first ti he cried out, I woke. Of course I did.
Three weeks of maternal conditioning doesn’t evaporate because soone with warm hands and a warr voice told to sleep through it. Told that she was already preparing the food and had woken up early to do it.
My body was rely upright before my mind caught up, already swinging legs toward the floor. Only for the gentle palm on my shoulder to press back down more firmly as I... growled at the resistance between and my son.
"I have it. Sleep. You promised."
The obstacle turns into a beauty with a reddish glow to her eyes. Looking for all the world like she was ready to try and wrestle down on this point.
"But..."
"You agreed. I made you agree three more tis three hours and forty seven minutes ago. Sleep, Princess."
I didn’t do as she asked. I just eased down while she walked back off... and laid there in the container’s bed with my eyes closed, listening to the sounds of her out in the kitchen. The sa place where that little voice wls and sends a *need* right into my chest.
> Maybe I should have milked before I slept. <
Eventually my enhanced senses note the eager, wet sounds of a tiny beast eating his second set of semi-solids. Wondering if she rembered the boneal. And hearing Kyrie’s low murmurs to him as she guided him perfectly without my help.
"Patience, Asha."
...
"Slow down, it’s not going anywhere."
...
"...You have her appetite, don’t you. That’s almost half a cup this ti."
Spoken with entirely too much affection for either of us, I feel myself slip half into sleep. Accepting that things are fine. Accepting that my Kyrie is trustworthy.
When I feel the mattress dip, I realize she is staying on the far side’s edge. Kyrie didn’t move quickly to drape herself over , like I expected her to do. It’s what she did earlier.
"Still awake, aren’t you."
It took a few groggy seconds to understand that she was... miffed at . With all the pettiness possible in a very successful woman who runs a multi-billion dollar company, I hear her grab for her pillow - and feel her get back up again.
"I’m taking the next feeding too, then. Sleeping on the couch with Asha. Keep your promises this ti, hm?"
...I guess she decided that she simply would not lay close enough for to feel when she got up. Maybe even that she could do a better job next ti, to keep from reacting to his cries by having the food ready even earlier.
Silly wolf. As if that would work if it didn’t this ti. Now I’m just going to have to sit here without either of their warmth beside . Now...
...
Exhaustion won. I slept. Hard. So much that I surfaced from the dream of swimming in a certain waterfall in my kingdom extra slowly, instead of jolting awake like before.
This ti I still heard her voice, but not directed at to keep asleep. Low and out in the living room nearby as I start to feel tightness in my chest again. Less in need to address his feeding and more just...
In general engorgent. Since it has now been many hours since they have been... emptied. Fun to realize that will be what my first duty today is. Not feeding my child directly, but hooking myself up to that... werewolf milker.
Feeling slightly irritable in so ways, even as I feel more grounded in others, I try to make no noise as I slide off the bed to sneak a peek. Hoping the purple glow behind isn’t casting too obvious shadows, or that she is looking out the window at the dawn light like it sounds.
"My mother would have liked you."
Eventually I can see the outline of her, the arm cradling the full tummy and the other hand patiently letting him nip playfully with his little extra energy as she speaks down at him. At least, I’m pretty sure that soft voice was ant to be at him and not .
"I take after my father, as much as I hate to say it. He might have grown used to the idea of you, but I’ll never know anything that he might have grown used to."
Though I’d be a fool to think she hasn’t already noticed the change in my breathing, let alone the shifting of sheets against my bare skin - or that one little creak in the shipping container’s floor. However, she doesn’t turn around to acknowledge that I’m watching, and listening, from the edge of my little safe place’s door.
"But mom was... less serious than . More like yours in so ways, actually. Often knew exactly what to say to make soone feel like the most important person in a room, or the smallest in the world."
A soft sound from Asha which... might have been an attempt at a growl. Or might have been indigestion. Seeing him energetic and not imdiately rushing back to sleep makes want to just walk over.
> I want to interact and play with him too! Why does it feel like I’m already getting slowly pushed to the bad cop parent without anyone asking? <
"She used to sing to him while he worked at ho, as a form of punishnt for not getting things done in the allotted hours. He never got upset over it, even when distracting him with her attention. Forcing him to balance ho with work."
At my side, fingers twitch. Realizing that she had done sothing similarly forceful but caring by bringing dinner. That I’d done sothing similar too, by trying to get her to go do work instead of let her play the newlywed wife.
"My father would just get this look on his face. It was just a little look. But when I was a child... I understood it. As his love. Because he never showed it to anyone else."
With here listening, I try and empathize. Try and think back to if I’d ever witnessed anything like this with my own mother and father. I find I cannot place anything. And that... just kind of makes sad.
"And when he died, she never sung again. Because she’d lost it. His love."
...But not as sad as that.
Reviews
All reviews (0)