FOUR TIMES YOUR DAUGHTER. . .
authors note: first ever dad!ab fic! first ever real fic! i hope i did him justice as i have never written dad!anyone ever. if dad!ab becomes it’s own thing then we need a name for her asap!! <3
warnings: none
four times your daughter got exactly what she wanted ─ ꫂ᭪݁˚꩜⋆₊ alfie buttle !
one, it started at half past five, which was exactly twenty-three minutes before dinner and therefore the worst possible time for your daughter to decide she wanted ice cream.
she’d wandered into the kitchen with her favourite stuffed rabbit tucked beneath one arm and immediately spotted the tub sitting in the freezer drawer while you were looking for peas.
her eyes had widened with the sort of excitement only a five-year-old could manage, like she’d just uncovered buried treasure instead of vanilla ice cream.
before you could even shut the freezer, she was already tugging at your sleeve.
“can i have some?”
you didn’t even look up from what you were doing. “no, sweetheart. dinner’s nearly ready.”
she frowned as though she’d never heard anything so unreasonable in her entire life. “but i really want some.”
“after dinner.”
the answer clearly wasn’t acceptable because she stood there for another moment, staring at you as if you might suddenly change your mind.
when you didn’t, she let out the world’s most dramatic sigh and shuffled out of the kitchen.
unfortunately for you, alfie chose that exact moment to walk in.
your daughter’s head snapped up the second she spotted him.
“daddy.”
alfie stopped mid-step. “yeah, angel?”
“mummy said i can’t have ice cream.”
you watched him glance between the two of you before immediately realising he’d walked straight into a trap.
"well" he started carefully.
"because dinner is soon," you interrupted.
"because dinner is soon," alfie repeated quickly.
your daughter looked horrified.
"you said no?"
"yes."
"oh."
she sounded genuinely devastated.
for a second neither of you said anything. then she slowly nodded, hugged her rabbit closer to her chest and wandered off down the hallway.
alfie frowned.
"i feel bad."
you pointed a wooden spoon at him. "don't."
"i'm just saying."
"don't."
the house remained suspiciously quiet for around thirty seconds.
then came the sound of tiny feet racing back towards the kitchen.
your daughter reappeared in the doorway looking significantly different than she had before.
somehow she'd managed to brush her hair back, put on the pink cardigan she only ever wore when she wanted compliments and was clutching her rabbit like she'd just survived a terrible ordeal.
she stood there silently for a moment, blinking up at the two of you with enormous sad eyes.
you immediately knew what she was doing.
alfie, meanwhile, looked seconds away from folding.
"daddy?" she asked softly.
"yeah, baby?"
"can i have just a little bit of ice cream?"
you closed your eyes. there it was. the voice.
the one she only used when she wanted something.
alfie physically melted before your eyes. "well..."
"no."
"i was just thinking maybe-"
"no."
your daughter looked at him hopefully.
"i'm very hungry."
"you're hungry because it's nearly dinner."
she considered this and nodded softly.
you felt victorious for approximately two seconds.
"but ice cream would help."
alfie turned away to hide a laugh.
you pointed at him again.
"don't encourage her."
"i'm not."
he absolutely was.
your daughter must have realised she was making progress because she abandoned you entirely and shuffled closer to alfie.
after a moment she wrapped her arms around one of his legs and rested her cheek against his knee. “please, daddy”
you watched alfie's soul leave his body.
"alfie."
"i know."
"don't."
"i know."
your daughter blinked up at him, "daddy?"
"yeah?"
"i think i'm getting sad."
you nearly laughed. alfie looked like he was going to break.
"you're not getting sad, baby, you’re just not getting your own way.", you whispered gently to her as you crouched down.
"a little bit sad", she gestured the amount with her fingers
"you're really not."
"a tiny bit."
she held her fingers a centimetre apart to demonstrate.
alfie sighed.
"how much ice cream are we talking?"
your jaw dropped. "alf.", you scolded.
"what?"
"what happened to no?"
he looked genuinely confused. "this is still no, girl, chill out”.
"how?"
"we're discussing it."
your daughter grinned. she actually grinned.
the little traitor girl knew she'd won.
within three minutes the two of them were somehow standing at the kitchen counter negotiating quantities like business partners finalising a contract.
your daughter wanted three scoops. alfie suggested two. she countered with three and a half. he settled on two and a half.
you had never seen anything so ridiculous in your life.
"why are you negotiating with her?" you asked.
"because she's negotiating with me."
"she's four.”
your daughter nodded seriously.
"i know numbers."
"she knows numbers, angel" alfie agreed as he leant over and placed a sloppy dramatic kiss on your cheek.
you stared at both of them.
eventually, despite your best efforts, a bowl of ice cream appeared on the counter.
it was not a little tiny bit. it wasn't even close.
your daughter climbed onto a chair and immediately started eating while kicking her legs happily beneath the table. alfie sat beside her looking far too pleased with himself for someone who'd completely abandoned the original plan.
you shook your head.
"honestly, you're worse than she is."
"that's not true."
your daughter looked up from her spoon.
"is true.", she giggled
alfie gasped.
"whose side are you on?"
she thought about it for all of two seconds, "mummy’s ."
"after i got you ice cream?", alfie had a disappointed look on his face while she just nodded with a smile on her face
"thanks for that, angel."
your daughter giggled so hard she nearly dropped her spoon.
twenty minutes later she announced she was completely full and couldn't possibly eat another bite of dinner.
you slowly turned your head towards alfie.
he stared at his plate.
"it wasn't that much ice cream, don’t get stroppy on me, girl”, he started.
two, your daughter appeared in the living room long after she’d supposedly gone to bed, clutching her rabbit under one arm and dragging her blanket behind her.
she’d clearly been asleep at some point because half her hair was sticking up in different directions.
you looked up from where you were sitting beside alfie on the sofa.
“why are you out of bed, baby?”, you asked quietly.
she shrugged, “hard to sleep.”
“you were asleep twenty minutes ago.”
another shrug, “not now.”, she explained.
alfie tried to hide his smile, “come here then.”
she immediately climbed onto the sofa and squeezed herself between the two of you. somehow, despite being tiny, she managed to take up an unreasonable amount of space.
within seconds she was tucked against alfie’s side while still leaning half her weight against you.
“better?” alfie asked.
she nodded.
you already knew where this was heading. “you’re still sleeping in your own bed, you’re a big girl now”, you stroked her hair softly.
her head snapped up.
“what?”
“nice try.”
“i didn’t do anything, mummy!”
“you didn’t need to.”
your daughter frowned as if she genuinely couldn’t understand why you weren’t falling for this.
for the next few minutes she sat there quietly, which honestly should’ve been another warning sign. eventually she started playing with one of the sleeves on alfie’s hoodie.
“daddy.”
“hmm?”
“if i was a little bit scared.”
you immediately looked over and alfie laughed.
“a little bit scared?”
she nodded.
“yeah.”
“of what?”
she thought about it. “the dark.”
“you’ve got a nightlight.”
“oh.”
she thought about that too. “the window then.”
“the window?”
“yeah.”
“what’s wrong with the window?”. she didn’t reply, instead she shrugged and rested her head back on alfie.
alfie snorted and you buried your face in your hands.
your daughter ignored you completely and climbed further into alfie’s lap.
“daddy?”
“yeah, angel?”
“can i have a sleepover with you and mummy?”
there it was.
“no,” you both said.
your daughter’s mouth fell open. “both of you?”
“yes.”
“that’s not nice!”, she stropped angrily.
“you have your own room, baby .”
after another five minutes of unsuccessful begging, she was eventually returned to bed. there were complaints. there was dramatic sighing. there was one final attempt involving promises to be “the best sleeper ever.”
none of it worked. or so you thought.
because at three in the morning you woke up and immediately realised something was wrong.
the bed felt smaller. much smaller.
confused, you opened your eyes and looked down.
your daughter was there, curled up, her face resting on your stomach and her legs thrown over alfie’s.
you slowly turned your head. alfie was already awake.
you stared at your daughter. you couldn’t move her, not when she was sound asleep. “go back to bed angel”, alfie whispered and pecked your lips.
three, you were halfway through helping your daughter get dressed when you realised something was very wrong.
normally getting a five-year-old ready to leave the house involved at least three outfit changes, one argument over socks and a complete refusal to wear a coat.
today, however, she’d been suspiciously cooperative. she’d sat on her bed the entire time, humming to herself while you brushed her hair and chatting away about absolutely nothing important.
it wasn’t until you reached into her wardrobe for a t-shirt that she suddenly jumped up.
“no!”
you blinked, “what’s wrong, baby?”.
she scrambled across the room and pulled out a bright pink princess dress from the back of her wardrobe.
“this one.”
you looked at the dress.
“for tesco?”
she nodded enthusiastically, “yeah!”
you couldn’t help laughing.
honestly, there were worse battles to fight, “if that’s what you want.”
your daughter gasped dramatically, “really?”
“really.”
she immediately launched herself at you.
five minutes later she was fully dressed and absolutely delighted with herself. the dress practically swallowed her whole, the skirt puffing out around her legs as she spun in circles across her bedroom.
you’d just managed to fix her tiara for the third time when alfie’s voice drifted upstairs.
“are you two ready yet?”
“coming!”
you took your daughter’s hand and headed downstairs.
the second you stepped into the hallway, alfie looked up.
“what’s she wearing?”, he laughed to himself.
your daughter grinned. “a princess dress.”
“i can see that, girl”
he looked at you and you just shrugged, “she wanted to wear it.”
“to tesco?”
“yeah.”
alfie stared at the two of you like you’d completely lost your minds.
your daughter gave the skirt another twirl.
“pretty.”
“angel,” he said carefully, “you know we’re just going shopping, right?”
“i know.”
“for food.”
“yeah.”
“not a princess party.”
she frowned, “you can buy food at a princess party.”
you immediately looked away before he saw you smiling.
“don’t laugh.”
your daughter grabbed your hand.
“mummy likes my dress.”
“of course she does.”
“and i like my dress.”
“i can tell.”
she looked up at him expectantly.
“do you like my dress?”
alfie lasted about three seconds, “yeah, you look amazing, angel”, he kissed her forhead.
her face lit up.
“yay!”
“fine. but if you complain about being uncomfortable, i’m not listening.”, he said sternly.
“okay!”
“and if the tiara falls off every five minutes-”
“okay!”
“and if-”.
“okay!”
your daughter was already halfway to the front door.
alfie sighed.
you smiled sweetly, “love you.”
“yeah, yeah, love you too, girl.”
twenty minutes later, you and your daughter were wandering through tesco together while alfie pushed the trolley behind you. honestly, it was impossible not to smile watching her.
she looked absurd. the giant pink dress swished around her ankles every time she walked, the tiara kept slipping sideways and every reflective surface became an opportunity to admire herself.
“mummy!”
“yeah?”
“look.”
she pointed at her reflection in one of the fridge doors.
“i’m beautiful.”
four, bedtime in your apartment was supposed to be simple. bath, pyjamas, story, bed. unfortunately, your daughter had discovered that the “one story” rule wasn’t nearly as strict as it sounded, especially when you left alfie in charge of reading.
it started innocently enough. you’d tucked her in, kissed her forehead and reminded both of them that it was one story before heading downstairs to tidy the kitchen.
alfie had nodded and promised he’d only be ten minutes. your daughter had nodded too, although the mischievous look on her face suggested she already had other plans.
when you came back upstairs twenty minutes later, you could still hear alfie’s voice through the bedroom door.
you paused, “alf?”
the reading stopped immediately.
when you pushed the door open, your daughter was sitting up in bed looking suspiciously awake while alfie sat beside her with a book in his hands.
“i thought you were reading one story.”
“i did.”
you looked at the pile of books beside him, “that doesn’t look like one story.”
your daughter pointed at him immediately.
“put me in the dog house!”, he laughed while looking offended that his own daughter had snitched on him.
“you asked for another one.”
“and you said yes.”, you replied for your daughter.
“that’s not the point.”
your daughter grinned.
you already knew exactly what had happened. she’d asked for one more. alfie had agreed. then she’d asked for another one after that. and another. and another.
“how many have you read?” you asked and he had went quiet.
“alfie.”
“four.”
“four!”
“in my defence, they’re bare short.”
you stared at him.
your daughter buried her face in her blanket, trying to supress a laugh.
“bed. now.”
she immediately dropped back onto her pillow.
“okay.”
you narrowed your eyes.
“and no more stories.”
“okay.”
then she turned to alfie.
“daddy?”
“yeah, girl?”
“just one little one?”
