Eddie loved quiet moments, he really did. They were a blessing with a teenage son, PTSD and a job like firefighting. But sometimes Eddie just needed to do something. Whether that was because he had drank too much coffee, or had extra adrenaline after a shift, or anything in between. He just needed to move.

This was one of those times.

Eddie swung his legs up onto your lap, disrupting your period of rest. He usually wasn’t this forward, admittedly. Usually you were the nagging one.

“You want to do something?” He asked, poking at your thigh with his toe. “Errands? Cleaning? Baking- oh, baking sounds good. Do you wanna bake?”