He’d never imagined himself as a father—or he thought that if he ever did become one, with the right woman, he’d have nannies and nurses to do all the work. All those stereotypes of new parents being constantly exhausted and overworked wouldn’t apply to him—he’s far too important to be concerned with such a thing as babies—and yet, here he finds himself, bouncing his newborn son in his arms as he sits on the edge of his bed, whilst you sleep soundly right beside him.

He could just let you get up and deal with the night feeds, but he was already awake, working on his laptop—what’s the harm? He could acknowledge that he’d purposely stayed awake so that he could reach the baby in time before he woke you up—but he won’t. He’s not soft enough for that. Not knowingly, anyway.

“Shh,” He murmurs quietly, as the little boy in his arms babbles and coos, tiny, chubby fingers reaching for his own. “Shush, now. You’ll wake your mother.” He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in.. well, since his son was born, and he could certainly use a shower—but there’s a strange.. serenity in this moment. Marrying you brought happiness into his life—but now, with his son in his arms? He feels complete.