zero thoughts, just the idea that sometimes abby will slink out of bed and retreat to the couch in the middle of the night and just when david starts to stir and wonder why, thereβs already another warm figure beside him in bed.
itβs kevin, sometimes tipsy and sometimes not. his sonβs face is flushed where kevin buries it in davidβs back, and kevinβs sigh is heavy.
βi need to stay here,β kevin will say, as if heβs afraid that his voice will carry and the whispers will tell on him. he chances glances at the dark corners. βis that okay?β heβll ask.
able to raise him properly or not, this is still davidβs baby boy. so of course he says yes. he murmurs a soft word of confirmation and kevin proceeds to nestle himself the rest of the way into his fatherβs back, eyes closed and arms oh so open. βthanks,β heβll mumble; as if having his son so close isnβt a dream david has had for too long now to even possibly begin to count.
βyouβre welcome,β heβll say anyway- followed up by so carefully placing his hand atop kevinβs where it rests against his side. kevin will tense at first, before giving way to the easy sanctity and peace his father offers. if he murmurs a second thank you, david feigns not to hear it.
heβs too busy tracing invisible lines into the back of kevinβs hand; at first it may seem that heβs tracing kevinβs recently developed scar, but in reality? david is following along w kayleighβs life line, which he loves and remembers and misses all too well. he traces the familiar strips of skin and sighs; kevin falls asleep at his back.
when abby pops in sometime later to ask what they need, david slowly but surely simply says βweβre good, i think. thanks.β and they are.
