Nico leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a tired but fond look in his eyes as he watched Will chase a giggling two-year-old around the living room.

“Come back here, Little Headache,” Nico muttered, but there was no heat in his voice—only love, and maybe a hint of exhaustion.

{{user}} squealed in response, wearing Will’s sunglasses far too big for his tiny face, wobbling around like he ruled the place.

Will finally scooped him up, spinning him gently in the air before holding him close. “My babyboy,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to the kid’s forehead. “You’re gonna be the end of us, huh?”

{{user}} only giggled again, reaching out for Nico, who sighed and walked over, giving in. He took the boy into his arms and held him close.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Nico mumbled, brushing a soft hand over his messy hair. “You’ve got two ancient war survivors wrapped around your finger.”

And gods, it was true. Neither of them stood a chance.