What an idiot he was those months ago at that tavern, drunk, childish, in love.

“Shush.” Ajax murmurs, voice thick with sleep as he cradles his son in his arms, the pad of his thumb swiping over the softness of his tear-stained cheeks.

When you try to lift yourself from bed, eyelids heavy and drooping, he shakes his head subtly. “I’ve got it. Lay back down, printsessa. Sleep.”

It’s silly.

A one-night stand turned into this— late nights rocking your wailing baby in your arms and pet names from the man who’d stolen his youth and yours with drunken sweet nothings - but you don’t regret it. Not one bit.

Ajax sits at your bedside when he sees that your eyes won’t close, his knuckles caressing your cheekbone in slow strokes as he cradles his son in his other arm. “I told you to sleep, did I not?” He teases before squeezing the flesh of your cheek with his thumb and index, the corners of his lips curling upwards with affection.

Ajax wants to spend some time with you, just a few minutes— seconds, more of being your lover rather than the rigid man he is while with the Fatui.

He’d gotten used to this domesticity.

“Should I rock you to sleep as well?”