#dad!alex

The stains on his slacks were a mystery he had neither the energy nor desire to solve. A smudge of something pale and sticky on his thigh could’ve been formula. His knee was streaked with something brown — coffee, maybe, though it was too far down for that to make sense. He wouldn’t dwell on the rest, the older stains faded into the fabric, their origins forgotten or ignored. He couldn’t remember. He didn’t care. The smattering on his shirt, though — that was fresh. A pale orange, probably from the mashed sweet potato Poppy had decided belonged anywhere but her mouth.  

He stared at the mess on his chest as if it were an accusation. He’d wiped it earlier, hadn’t he? Or maybe that was yesterday. God, he didn’t even know anymore.  

What he did know was that he couldn’t do this. Not alone. He’d thought he couldn’t do it at all, but this — this endless symphony of crying, cooking, cleaning, existing — was definitely impossible solo.  

The hum of the range hood over the stove grew louder, like a dull roar against his temples, even though it had been on for barely five minutes. A pot of something — a soup he was loosely following a recipe for — bubbled on the back burner, the spoon lying crooked in the pot like it was waiting for him to do something.  

But he couldn’t.  

Alex’s hands trembled over the cutting board, the knife clenched too tightly in his grip. He was halfway through dicing carrots — well, maybe a third of the way, if he was being honest. The pieces on the board were uneven, some chunks too big, some practically shaved. He didn’t care. None of it mattered.  

Because from the baby monitor propped precariously against the salt shaker, Poppy’s cries sliced through the air. Loud and clear. He didn’t need the video feed to know what it looked like. She’d be on her back, her face red and scrunched, little fists flailing at the unfairness of the world.  

The sound stabbed through him, sharper than the knife he was holding. He’d always thought it was supposed to get easier, that eventually, he’d adjust to…to everything. But it hadn’t. If anything, it felt worse. More oppressive. More constant.  

He set the knife down — or tried to. Instead, the blade sank into the cutting board, embedding itself with a soft crunch of wood. His chest heaved as he leaned forward, both hands gripping the edge of the counter.  “I can’t do this.” he muttered, his voice shaking as he stared blankly at the baby monitor. His reflection glared back at him in the dark screen, overlaid with the grainy image of her squirming. His words came again, quieter this time, barely audible over the din of the kitchen. “I can’t- fuck, I can’t-”  

None of it felt like enough. He wasn’t enough.  

And then, faintly at first, he heard the familiar rhythm of your footsteps in the hallway.  

“Sorry it took so long, baby.” you murmured, your voice drifting into the kitchen like sunlight after a storm.  

Alex straightened instinctively, though his body still felt stiff and leaden. Relief hit him in a wave, so fast it almost made him dizzy. The mere sound of you was enough to pull him back from the edge. You stepped into the kitchen, shrugging off your coat and tossing it toward the back of a chair. Your gaze landed on him, and you froze.  

“Hey, Al.” Your tone shifted immediately, soft and careful in a way that made his throat tighten. “You alright?”  

He nodded too quickly, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to meet your eyes. “Yeah…yeah.” His voice cracked on the second ‘yeah’ but he didn’t stop. He needed to say something, anything, to deflect. “You should-” He gestured vaguely toward the baby monitor, holding it up in one hand like it was a lifeline. “She’s-”  

You didn’t wait for him to finish. “Yeah.” Kicking off your shoes, you crossed the room in three quick strides. He watched as you disappeared up the stairs, your voice softening as you murmured something — maybe to Poppy, maybe to yourself. He couldn’t tell.  

His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, tugging lightly at the strands like it might help clear the fog in his brain. The wailing had stopped. Just like that, the silence felt louder than the crying ever had.  

Fuck, Alex, you can’t think the world’s gonna end every time, he thought, the words landing sharp in his mind. He took a shaky breath and forced himself to push — push past the weight, push himself up, both figuratively and quite literally. His hands braced the counter as he straightened, his legs stiff.  

The knife still stuck out of the cutting board, its edge caught in the groove it had made. He reached for it, his grip careful, and plucked it free with a soft scrape. For a moment, he just stared at the mark left behind, his thumb running over the shallow scar in the wood. He could fix it, probably. Sand it down, oil the surface — make it like new again.  

Maybe.  

Maybe it didn’t need replacing. Maybe things could be solved and not thrown away so easily.  

He’d fix it.

Before he could linger too long on the thought, he heard your voice, soft and full of that almost-laughter you got whenever you talked to her.  

“Say hi to Dada.” you murmured.  

It wasn’t quite the over-the-top baby voice you’d both sworn you’d never use. You’d laughed about it, once — vowed you wouldn’t be those parents, with their ridiculous high-pitched cooing and singsong nonsense. But then she had arrived, and somehow, somehow, you both caught yourselves doing it. Even Alex.  

She cooed back, her little voice bubbling like carbonation in a glass. His chest still felt tight, the remnants of earlier panic clinging stubbornly to him, but he moved toward the sound. Slowly, carefully, like it was fragile and he might shatter it if he got too close.  

Her arms flailed, fingers curling and uncurling in something that looked almost purposeful. Joy, he thought. She was happy. Not just generally, but specifically. Happy to see him.  

“Where’s Dada?” you asked her, like she might actually answer.  

And she did.  

With an awkward jerk of her chubby arm, she pointed directly at him. Her smile grew impossibly wider, her face lighting up in a way that still caught him off guard every time. It was a real smile, a choice, not just a reflexive grimace. His breath hitched, his throat tightening as the thought hit him harder than it should have. He never got used to it — the way she could do something so simple and make him feel like the floor was falling out from under him.  

He reached for his jaw, grabbing it and tugging, trying to snap himself out of the trance. His fingertips pressed hard into his skin, the roughness of his calluses grounding him.  

“Hi.” he said, his voice cracking a little. 

“She missed you.” you said gently, your gaze flicking between him and Poppy. You weren’t teasing, not like you might’ve been on another day. You knew exactly how fragile he was in that moment.  

Alex swallowed hard, willing himself to keep it together as he stepped closer. He reached out, his hand brushing her tiny fist before letting her grab his finger. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so small. She tugged, babbling incoherently, her gaze fixed on him with such intensity that he felt like he might unravel.  

“I missed you, too.” he whispered, his words directed at her but meant for both of you.  

Poppy let out another happy noise, a gurgle that morphed into something closer to a giggle, and she leaned forward, her little arms reaching toward Alex, fingers curling and uncurling as if she was trying to grab him through the air.  

“You wanna go to Dada?” you said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Say daaaa-daaa.” you coaxed, drawing out the syllables in that sweet, singsong way.  

Alex’s lips curved upward, though he tried not to make a big deal of it. He crouched down slowly, the strain in his lower back making itself known with a sharp twinge. His already misaligned spine didn’t thank him for it, but he pushed through, lowering himself until his face was level with hers. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her little body, to smell the faint powdery scent of baby lotion and something vaguely milk-like clinging to her.

“Come ‘ere, Pop.” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, as though speaking too loud might scare her off. “Come to Dada.”  

“Da-da.” you repeated, nodding encouragingly at her as if she might mirror your enthusiasm.  

Instead of saying the word — or lunging into Alex’s arms like some moment of cinematic perfection — she smacked him square in the face.  

Alex froze, his mouth slightly open in surprise, the sting of her palm radiating across his cheek. She’s got a mean right hook for someone who can barely hold her own bottle, he thought. He blinked at her, and then at you, his hand coming up to rub at the spot, which hurt only faintly, not as much as the blow to his pride.  

“She gets that from you.” he muttered, casting you a sidelong glance.  

“She does not.” you said, though your laughter betrayed you. “Don’t take it personally.” you said, trying to sound serious. “She slaps me all the time. It’s how she says ‘I love you.’”  

“Great. So instead of words, we’re raising her to communicate through violence?” She was grinning wide, her chubby cheeks pink with delight, completely oblivious to her crime. “Well, maybe I deserved that one.” He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he reached for her again. “Come ‘ere, you little gremlin.”  

He kissed your cheek, a quick, grateful press of his lips, before turning his attention to her. “Hiya, Pop.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, warm and impossibly soft, before nuzzling his nose against her temple. She let out a happy squeal, her hands finding his face again. This time, instead of slapping, her fingers grabbed at his nose, her little nails scratching lightly as she babbled something unintelligible. Her eyes were wide and bright, her gummy smile so wide it made his chest ache.  

“She loves you, you know.” you said, leaning against the counter as you watched them. 

He glanced up at you, his brows furrowing slightly, though his lips stayed pressed to her cheek. “Yeah?”  

“Yeah.” You smiled softly, crossing your arms as you tilted your head. “You’re her favourite person. I’m a little jealous.”  

“Yeah.” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “She’s mine too.”  

“Dada.” you said softly, testing it again as you smiled at the two of them.  

Alex raised a brow, looking down at her. “What do you think, Pop? You gonna say it?”  

Her face scrunched, lips parting as if she were about to make some grand declaration. There was a tiny pause — just enough for Alex to feel a flicker of hope. Then she let out a loud, enthusiastic noise that was more of a squawk than a word, clapping her little hands against his chest as if to punctuate her babble.  

“Close enough.” he said, his voice soft with amusement as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  

But you weren’t about to let it go.  

“Daaa-daaa.” you tried again. You leaned in a little, your hands gesturing toward Alex like he was the most exciting thing in the world. He was, even if he couldn't see that. “You can do it, Pop. Say Dada!” She blew a raspberry, the sound wet and loud, making Alex snort. “She’s close.” you insisted, crouching down beside him. “Come on, baby.”  

Alex sighed, shifting Poppy in his arms as her attention drifted to his shirt collar. She grabbed a fistful of the fabric, tugging at it like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. He glanced at you, a faint crease forming between his brows. You always had this unshakable belief that she was on the verge of something amazing — every coo, every wave of her little hands filled you with anticipation. He admired it, that optimism of yours. But today, it made something heavy settle in his chest.  

“Say it, Poppy.” you encouraged, wagging your fingers at her. “Daaa-daaa.”  

He rolled his eyes but didn’t stop you, though he felt the faintest pang of guilt as you kept trying. You were so patient, so persistent, and he didn’t want to rain on your optimism. Still, after the god knows which round of those exaggerated two syllables, he couldn’t help but interject.  

“She’s not gonna say it.” he mumbled, almost to himself.  

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.  

“She’s not gonna say it.” he repeated, his voice quiet but firmer this time. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t know what we’re saying.”  

“She’s so close.” you said gently, your smile faltering just a little.  

“She’s not.” he replied, shaking his head as he looked down at her. “She’s just…she’s not there yet.”  

You glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “But-”  

“Love,” he interrupted, tilting his head toward you, “she’s probably tired of us pestering her. Let’s give her a break.”  

You frowned slightly, watching him. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the floor now, his shoulders tense.  

“Alex.” you said softly.  

He didn’t respond. He shifted Poppy in his arms, holding her a little closer, though he couldn’t shake the weight pressing against his chest. Why do I care so much? he thought, annoyed with himself. He couldn’t stop the spiral — thoughts tumbling over each other, picking apart every small failure.  

Maybe I’m not doing enough. Maybe she doesn’t know because I’m not around enough. Maybe she doesn’t…

“Alex.” you said again, firmer this time. Your hand found his shoulder, snapping him out of it.  

He looked up at you, his brow furrowed, and you saw it then — the faint sheen of worry in his eyes, the way his jaw was set too tight, like he was bracing for something.  

“She’ll get there. You know that, right?”  

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

You sighed, your shoulders drooping slightly, but you nodded. “Alright.” you murmured, brushing your fingers against Poppy’s cheek. “We’ll stop, Pop. No more pressure.”  

But just as Alex opened his mouth to thank you for relenting, a small, hesitant sound broke through the quiet.   

Both of you froze.  

Alex’s eyes widened as he stared at Poppy, who was now grinning up at him like she knew exactly what she’d just done.  

“Did she-?” His voice trailed off, his heart pounding as he glanced at you.  

“She said it.” you whispered. “She said it.”  

Alex barely heard you, the words sinking into his chest like pebbles dropped into a still lake. She said it, the syllables echoed faintly in his mind. He wanted to laugh, to smile, to do something to match the moment, but his body didn’t seem to know how to react. Afraid to breathe too deeply in case it all shattered.  

“Dada!” she said again, louder this time, her tiny voice wobbly but unmistakable.  

That broke him.  

Alex felt something catch in his throat, a sharp mix of disbelief and joy. His chest tightened, his heart stuttering before kicking into overdrive. Slowly, as if afraid of startling her, he looked down at her, her wide, shining eyes staring back up at him. His smile spread slowly, unbidden and unstoppable, until it felt like it might split his face in two.  

“Good girl.” he whispered. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her warm cheek. “That’s my girl.” he murmured, barely audible as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.  

“She’s a genius.” you said, half-laughing, half-crying. Your voice snapped him out of the trance just enough for him to notice you were leaning into him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder.  

He should’ve been relieved. He was relieved. But the edges of the moment started to fray as his mind looped back on itself, until his hand twitched against Poppy’s back, his fingers moving in a restless, uneven rhythm.   

“Alex.” you said softly, your voice cutting through the noise in his head.  

He blinked, looking up at you with wide eyes, like he hadn’t even realised he’d drifted away. “Hmm?”  

Your brows knit together just slightly as you studied him. “She said it.” you repeated, more gently this time, as if trying to coax him back to the present. “You heard her, right? She said it, and she’ll keep saying it.”  

He nodded, his lips twitching upward in an attempt at a smile. “Yeah. I heard her.” 

“It’s okay to let yourself enjoy it, you know.”  

Alex let out a soft, shaky laugh, his head bowing slightly. “I’m trying.” he admitted.  

You gave him a small, knowing smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I know you are.”  

Then, with the same quiet authority that always managed to steady him, you said, “I’ll take over dinner.”  

He hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the stove where the pot still bubbled quietly. “It’s almost done.” he said automatically, his voice trailing off.  

“Seriously.” you interrupted, your hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Go sit down. You’ve earned it.”  

He looked at you then, really looked, and saw the understanding in your eyes. Not pity, not impatience — just a steady reassurance that he didn’t have to carry everything on his own.  

Alex exhaled slowly, his shoulders loosening as he nodded. “Alright, alright.” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint, grateful smile.  

“Good.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek before stepping toward the stove.  

“Alright, Pop.” he said softly, turning toward the living room. “Let’s go relax, yeah?”  

Alex settled onto the couch with a quiet groan, leaning back into the cushions as he adjusted Poppy in his lap. Her bright eyes met his again, and he smiled despite himself, the heaviness in his chest beginning to lift.  

“You’re a little genius.” he murmured, brushing his fingers over her curls.  

Poppy responded with a loud, cheerful babble, her tiny hands smacking against his chest like punctuation marks. Before he realised what was happening, one of her fingers poked at his cheek, then slid up toward his nose.  

“Hey, what are you-” Alex started, but his words cut off with a muffled grunt as she, determined as ever, managed to wedge her little fingers into his nostrils. “Christ, Pop.” he muttered, squirming as he tried to gently guide her hand away. She giggled in response and shoved harder. He groaned, his face scrunching comically. “You’re relentless, aren’t you? Just like your mum.”  

Despite the discomfort, he didn’t make her stop right away. He let her tug and poke and prod because…well, because she was his. His little girl, with her impossibly tiny fingers and her boundless energy and her smile that made his chest ache in ways he still didn’t fully understand.  

“Alright, that’s enough now.” he said softly, finally grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re gonna rip my big nose off, you little gremlin.”  

She squealed in delight, her legs kicking against his lap as she laughed. Alex couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking his head as he adjusted her so she was sitting more comfortably.  

“Are you hungry, Pop?” he asked, tilting his head to look at her more closely. “Hmm? Is that why you’re trying to dismantle me? Did you miss dinner while I was busy mucking about in the kitchen?”  

Poppy tilted her head in response, mimicking his gesture with such accuracy that it caught him off guard.  

“You missed Mama, didn’t you?” he said, his voice softening as he brushed a hand over her hair. “You always get a bit grumpy when she’s not here, huh? Me too, you know. Yeah? You missed her loads, didn’t you? I get it. She’s the best, isn’t she?”  

She clapped her hands in agreement, her face lighting up.  

“She’s clever, that one.” Alex continued as he leaned in slightly. “Always knows what to do. Keeps me from completely losing it most days.” He sighed, his thumb gently tracing circles on her little hand. “Don’t tell her, but I missed her too.”  

She made another noise, high-pitched, and Alex chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you? Don’t need words when you’ve got that smile. You know,” he murmured, “you’re kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”  

Poppy didn’t respond, of course, but the way she rested her head against his chest — her little fingers curling into his shirt — felt like answer enough. 

You called him over, your voice warm and light but tinged with that familiar sense of knowing. “Alex, come here. Dinner’s ready.”  

He shifted Poppy in his arms and stood with an exaggerated groan, the sound somewhere between playful and genuine. “Getting old, Pop.” he murmured, glancing down at her. “You’re not making this any easier, you know.”  

“Is it okay?” he asked as he approached the table, nodding toward the pot on the stove.  

“Yeah, it’s good. Smells amazing.” you said as you sat down. “Can’t wait to eat, I’m starving.”  

He smiled faintly at your words, placing Poppy in her high chair before lowering himself into the seat next to you. “Eat, eat. I’ll try to get her to eat something too.” he said, nodding toward the little one.  

“You need to eat too, baby.” you replied as you placed a plate in front of him.  

Alex didn’t respond. He was looking at you, his gaze quiet and intense in a way that made you pause. There was something in the way he watched you that felt almost fragile, like he was trying to memorise the moment before it slipped through his fingers.  

“Alex.” you prompted gently, but he still didn’t look away.  

He blinked, as if suddenly realising he was staring, and shifted his focus to Poppy. She had taken one of his fingers into her mouth, nibbling on it. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t mind.  

“I know,” he said softly, “but can we just…”  

He trailed off, his free hand brushing over Poppy’s curls as his jaw tightened.  

“Alex-” you began, but he cut you off, his voice trembling slightly as he turned back to you.  

“She said it.” he whispered, the words barely audible. His eyes, glassy with unshed tears, met yours, pleading and vulnerable. “She…don’t start that now, please.”  

Your mouth opened to respond, but his expression stopped you. There was a rawness in his face that you recognized too well — a deep, unspoken fear that if you brought it up, you’d ruin the delicate balance of the moment.  

“Okay.” you said finally.  

Dinner was quiet. The kind of quiet that settled in like a heavy fog, where the occasional clink of cutlery against a plate felt unnaturally loud. Poppy babbled here and there, filling the silence with her tiny, nonsensical words, and Alex smiled at her, like always. But his energy was flagging. He was tired, worn thin in a way that even you could feel across the table. You knew he was trying, trying for you and for her, trying to keep the atmosphere light. And it worked, sort of, enough to make it through the meal. But you could see the strain beneath it, the cracks that threatened to show when he thought no one was looking.

That smile didn’t follow him when the day finally wound down and the two of you climbed into bed. Under the covers, where the quiet wasn’t tempered by the background noise his face fell into something harder. That look you’d come to dread, his “mad kitten” look, as you’d called it, where his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was physically holding himself together with sheer will.

The dark made it worse. It always did. Shadows obscured the warmth in his features, leaving behind that stubborn jawline and the glassy glint of his eyes when he didn’t blink fast enough.

“Al…” you whispered, trying to coax him out of it.

You could feel him debating it, using the dark as a shield, letting the silence stretch between you.

“I’m fine.” he said finally.

“You-”

“I’m fine.” he repeated, cutting you off quickly, but not sharply. “I promise.”

There was a note of insistence in his tone, as if he needed to convince you, or maybe himself, that it was true. Before you could press further, his body shifted. He moved toward you, wrapping his arms around your middle and twisting you into his grip with that quiet urgency that always made your chest ache. His chest pressed firmly against your back, the heat of him bleeding through the thin fabric of your shirt and you could feel his breath against your shoulder like he was trying to regulate it but failing.

“I’m just…tired.” he murmured, the words muffled as his face found the crook of your neck.

His sigh followed, long and drawn-out, like it was pulled from somewhere deep. His arms tightened around you, his hold becoming almost unbearably heavy. It wasn’t just physical — you could feel the emotional gravity of him, like he was sinking into you, clinging to you to keep himself afloat.

“You don’t have to hold onto it all by yourself, you know.” you said, your voice a quiet plea in the dark, placing your hand over his arm, your fingers tracing slow circles against his skin.

“I’m not.” he whispered after a long pause, his voice barely audible. “I’ve got you.” Bittersweet and honest in a way that made your throat tighten. You turned slightly in his arms, just enough to see the edge of his face.

“I’m here.” you said, your hand moving up to brush against his cheek. “I’m always here.”

Alex closed his eyes at that, his head dipping slightly as if the weight of those words was too much. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his grip on you never loosening. “I know.” he said again, softer this time, almost like a prayer.

“Baby?” you called softly. Alex’s body was pressed so firmly against yours that you could feel every rise and fall of his chest. The way he rubbed himself against you sent a subtle shiver down your spine that you tried, and failed, to hide.

“Mhm?” he hummed in response, his voice thick with exhaustion but carrying a gentle warmth. He pressed his face into your neck again, nuzzling you like he couldn’t get close enough. “You smell nice.” he murmured.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “I missed you today.”

His palms roamed your body, spreading warmth wherever they touched. He wasn’t in a hurry — it was almost absentminded, the way his hands explored. Slowly, they began to search for the hem of your shirt, his fingertips brushing against your bare skin — hesitant, like he was trying to go unnoticed, unsure of himself.

You knew what that meant — he was testing the waters, weighing his own energy against his desire, afraid to disappoint you or himself if he couldn’t deliver. 

“Alex?” you asked gently, your hand brushing against his side.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice quieter this time, muffled by the way his face stayed buried against you.

“Do you wanna…?” you suggested, leaving the rest unsaid but entirely clear.

His breath hitched, just for a second, and then he groaned softly, twisting himself further into you. His face ducked lower, pressing into your shoulder like he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “Yeah, but…I’m so fucking tired.” he admitted, almost apologetic.

You felt him stretch his legs, his body shifting as he intertwined them with yours, wrapping you up in his warmth and his weariness all at once. He sighed again, though this time it was more of a soft, frustrated mewl, a sound that broke your heart a little.

“Can we do it in the morning?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I’m better in the mornings…at night, I just…I get too in my head, and I can’t…” His words trailed off, lost somewhere between exhaustion and vulnerability.

You didn’t need him to finish. You understood.

Your hand found its way to the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at the roots. It was oilier than usual, and you knew that detail alone was enough to bother him, though you wouldn’t dream of holding it against him. You could feel the weight of the week, of the day, in the way he leaned into your touch.

“I have to go to work again early for some-” you began. The sentence was interrupted by a deep stretch and a groan, his body shifting again to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. 

“How early?” he asked, his voice still groggy.

“Early.” you said, the word carrying a hint of regret as your fingers continued their soothing motions.

“Fuck…” He sighed, the sound dragging out as he let himself sink deeper into you. “Okay.” His hands slid back under your top, the roughness of his palms contrasting with the gentle way he touched you. They skimmed over your ribs, fingers spreading wide to take in as much of you as they could. Slowly, he began to push the fabric upward, revealing more of your bare skin, but he hesitated just short of pulling it completely off.

“It’s fine, Al-” you started, not wanting him to feel pressured. Your hand came up to gently push him away, but he caught your wrist lightly.

“No, no…” he murmured, shaking his head. His brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the base of your throat. “I can- I want to. I just…” He trailed off, exhaling shakily as his eyes dropped to the space between you, as if his body wasn’t cooperating the way he wanted it to.

“Need a hand?” 

He let out a breath, half a laugh, half a sigh, and nodded. “Yeah.” 

You reached for the hem of your top, tugging it over your head and letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. Alex’s eyes lifted, softening instantly as they took in the newly bared skin. He swallowed hard, his lips parting as his hands reached for you again. His lips followed the curve of your chest, pressing slow, reverent kisses to the soft swell of your breasts. His stubble scratched against your skin, and you couldn’t help but gasp when his teeth grazed and nibbled on the delicate skin just below your collarbone.

“Fuck…” you murmured, his grunt in response muffled against your chest. He kissed the same spot again, as if trying to chase away the faint sting with warmth.

Your fingers slipped down then, over the planes of his stomach before slipping to the waistband of his boxers. He tensed slightly, almost imperceptibly, but didn’t stop you. Slowly, you slid your hand inside, fingers brushing against him. He was soft beneath your touch, his body warm but still reluctant to respond. You stroked him gently, giving him time, your movements slow and deliberate. He twitched slightly, but not as much as you both hoped.

“Shit.” he muttered, voice strained and tinged with frustration. “I’m sorry…I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head against you. “I just- I’m sorry. I’m so fucking tired, and I-”

“Hey.” you interrupted softly, your free hand coming up to thread through his hair again. You scratched lightly, feeling the tension in his body as you worked to soothe him. “Don’t apologise.”

“I just can’t get my head right.” he said, his voice tight. He sighed heavily, his breath shuddering against you. “I want to- fuck, I really want to, but…”

“But nothing.” Your fingers continued to stroke him lightly, not to pressure him, but to reassure him, to remind him you weren’t in any rush. “It’s okay, Alex. We’ve got time. It’s not a race.”

He let out a soft groan, half from the sensation of your hand and half from the weight of his own thoughts. “You’re too good to me.” he muttered, pressing another kiss to the top of your chest.

“I love you.” you replied simply. “That’s not gonna change just because you’re tired. You’ve been running yourself ragged all day, Al. Your body’s just trying to catch up.”

He let out another sigh, this one softer, and tilted his head up to look at you. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted as if he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.

“You’re allowed to be tired.” you added, your thumb brushing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, but I wanted to…I wanted to be good for you.” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly on the last words.

“You are good for me.” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You always are.”

As if testing himself, his hips shifted slightly against your hand. “I’m trying.” 

“I know.” you replied, kissing him again, this time on the lips, reminding him that this wasn’t about performance or expectation but the two of you. His lips trembled against yours, but he kissed you back, his hands finding their way to your hips. He held you firmly but tenderly, his thumbs stroking small circles into your skin.

“I’ll get there.” he murmured, his voice thick but steadier now. “I’m gon’ do my best…” his lips brushing the curve of your neck “to fuck you good.”

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Promise.” 

He let out a low, shaky groan as his hand squeezed your arse, pulling you closer against him. His lips returned to your chest, latching onto the soft flesh with a warm, open-mouthed kiss that sent a shiver through your spine. His hips bucked gently into your hand, still soft but slowly responding, the friction encouraging him more than he might have expected. 

“Talk to me.” he murmured against your skin, punctuating his words with another kiss, this time right over your heart.

“About what?” 

“Anything.” he gasped, his breath catching when you tugged just a bit harder. His head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tried to stay focused. “Anything to distract me from thinking too hard.”

“Okay, let’s see…” you started, the rhythm of your hand unbroken as you searched for something that might pull him out of his head. “How about the fact that she said her first word today?” you offered, your voice lifting slightly as you rubbed your thumb along his length.

Alex let out a short laugh, half-gasping as his hips moved with more intention now. “You think I forgot?” he asked, his tone teasing despite the breathlessness. “I’ll be telling everyone about that for years, love. Even strangers in the queue at Tesco.”

“Yeah?” you grinned, leaning down to kiss his temple. “Bet you’ll exaggerate it too. ‘Oh, she looked right at me, so serious, and said ‘Dada’ like she was delivering some grand speech.’”

“She did though. You saw her. Our girl was bloody profound.”

“She had food all over her face.” you countered, laughing softly.

“That’s just charisma.” he replied, his voice softer now, though his hips bucked again, more firmly.

“Uh-huh, sure.” you teased, your fingers sliding down further to cup him gently, eliciting a groan that vibrated against your skin.

“More,” he mumbled, his voice husky.

“More talking or more touching?” you teased, your hand giving him a firmer stroke, feeling him start to harden properly against your palm.

“Both.” His hips moved in small, involuntary motions against your hand, but he still wasn’t quite where he wanted to be. “Something else this time. Anything- just not…”

“Not what?” 

He let out a shaky laugh, his head shaking slightly. “Not about her.” he admitted, his voice low and embarrassed. “Feels weird…when you’ve got your hand on my dick.”

You laughed and Alex groaned again, though this time it was out of exasperated affection. “Fair point.” you teased, giving him a soft squeeze that earned you a sharp inhale. “Okay, let’s think…”

“Yeah, think of something good.” he muttered, his lips trailing a line of warm, lazy kisses down the side of your neck. “Something sexy or ridiculous, just…”

“Alright,” you said, “remember that time we got locked out of the old flat because you thought you could ‘jimmy’ the door with a credit card?”

“Oh, come on, don’t remind me.” he groaned, though there was a smile in his voice. “I was just trying to impress you.”

“You were trying to impress me by breaking into your own flat?” you teased, your thumb brushing over the sensitive underside of his cock, drawing a quiet gasp from him.

“It almost worked.” he said, mock-defensively. 

“It really didn’t.” you replied, laughing softly. “We ended up waiting outside for two hours until your mate showed up with the spare key.”

“Yeah, and you still went out with me after that.” he shot back, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin.

“Only because you bought me chips and promised never to try anything that stupid again.” you countered, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw.

He hummed in response, his lips seeking yours for a lazy, lingering kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. “I’d buy you chips every day if it meant I’d get to keep you.” he murmured against your lips.

“That’s very sweet.” you said softly, “but you don’t need to bribe me with chips. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good…because I’m not sure what I’d do without you.” he whispered. “Morning’s overrated anyway.” he mumbled with a smirk, his confidence finally peeking through, making you laugh softly as he pulled you even closer.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. The first tentative stroke of his fingers over your folds pulled a quiet sound from your lips, a soft sigh that made his chest tighten. “Yeah? Mhm…you’re real wet.”

He hooked a leg over your waist, tugging himself closer and shifting his weight to make it easier to manoeuvre. With a grumble, he raised his arms over his head, his eyes flicking down at you with a playful tilt to his brow. “Help me take off my shirt.” — somewhere between impatient and endearing.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to grip the hem and pulling it up and off. His messy hair stuck up at odd angles from the friction, and you couldn’t resist brushing your fingers through it as he leaned back down, his lips grazing your jaw.

With the shirt discarded, Alex’s attention shifted back to you. His hand pushed your panties down just enough to free his wrist, not bothering to remove them entirely as he slid his middle finger into you. The stretch was perfect. His hips rutted gently against your thigh, seeking friction as he worked his finger deeper into you, his cock hot and heavy, twitching with every little noise you made. 

“That’s good, Al.” you moaned again, your hips moving against his hand, trying to take more of him.

“Yeah? You like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, his voice strained but steady. He added a second finger, the stretch making you cry out sharply, and he groaned in response. “Mhm…so tight.” he said, his hips jerking reflexively, his arousal growing harder to ignore.

“Just…more.” you gasped, arching into his touch as his thumb pressed against your clit, circling.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he whispered, his words muffled against your skin as he kissed and nipped at the flesh, his scruff leaving a warm, tingling trail in its wake. His fingers moved faster now, just enough to drag a broken moan from your lips.

“Alex…” you breathed, the sound of his name on your lips making his hips jerk harder against your thigh.

“I’ve got you.” he whispered, “I’ll take care of you, love. Just let me make you feel good.”

You arched into his touch, your hands moving to push his boxers down over his hips. He groaned softly as the fabric slid away, freeing him entirely. His cock was still firming, enough to feel hopeful again.

“Yeah…” he breathed, his voice low and thick as he worked his fingers deeper into you, the sound of them going in and out suddenly louder. “That’s my girl…all wet for me. Missed this.” he mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled and hazy. “Missed ya.”

You nodded, unable to form words as his pace quickened, the rhythm of his fingers a barely restrained desperation. “Fuck…you’re perfect.” he whispered, his lips grazing yours in a fleeting kiss that left you aching for more. 

Despite the ache in his shoulders and the subtle burn building in his forearm, Alex kept his focus on you. The way your body moved, the sounds you made — it was all the motivation he needed to push past the weariness settling in his bones. His jaw tightened briefly, a hint of exhaustion flickering across his face, but he blinked it away before you could see. He made sure you didn’t. Every time his movements faltered for even a second, he redirected you — his thumb brushing over your clit with just enough pressure to steal your breath, his lips peppering your neck with kisses that made your body shudder.

Your hands slid down his back, your nails grazing lightly over the curve of his spine, and he hissed softly. “You’re gonna make me come before we even get to the good part.” you teased, your voice shaking slightly.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he kissed you again, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl. “This is the good part.” he muttered. He curled his fingers inside you just right, and your body tensed, your breath hitching audibly.

“Alex…” you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillow as his thumb pressed harder.

“That’s it.” he murmured, his voice steady despite the faint tremble in his arms. “Let me hear you, love.” You gasped again. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “That’s my girl. Let go for me.”

And you did. Your body arched into him as you came, your moans filling the room as he worked you through it, fingers slowing but never stopping. He kissed you softly, his lips lingering against yours, letting you ride it out at your own pace.

“Beautiful.” he murmured, his voice thick with awe as he finally withdrew his hand. His fingers glistened in the dim light when he brought them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean. A low groan escaped him at the taste, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leaned back in.

“Alex.” you whispered, your voice still shaky as you reached for him.

“Shh…” he said softly, shifting his weight to pull your panties all the way off. His movements were just a fraction slower than usual, his body heavier as he repositioned himself between your thighs, but he masked it. 

When he slipped inside of you, a soft gasp escaped him, his breath hitching as his shoulders gave the faintest shiver. He paused for a moment, his forehead dropping briefly to your collarbone as he adjusted to the warmth of you, the closeness. It was almost as if he needed a second to collect himself, to process the way you fit around him so perfectly. His focus seemed inward, like he was trying to keep himself tethered, to keep from drifting too far into his thoughts, the drag of him inside you unhurried, as if the intimacy itself was enough to sustain him.

“Al…” you whispered, brushing your hands through his hair, tugging gently to pull his face closer to yours.

He didn’t respond, just shifted forward until his chest was flush against yours, his arms wrapping tightly around your back. His movements grew lazier, his thrusts almost absent-minded, and then he stilled entirely, buried deep inside you as he pulled you tighter against him.

“C’mere.” he murmured and hooked his leg around your waist, the strength in his arms holding you securely as he twisted his body, rolling the two of you onto your sides. The shift was gentle. You went willingly. He kept you close, his arms curling tighter around your back, and when you settled, he pressed his forehead to yours. His gaze was soft but so heavy with unspoken truths that it made your chest ache.

“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your palm.

He nodded, but the movement was subtle, barely more than a twitch, and tightness in his jaw told you there was more. Instead of answering, he leaned forward and kissed you softly, the press of his lips lingering.

“Just wanted to hold you.” he finally said. “Needed to feel you close.”

“You’ve got me.” you whispered back, your hand stroking the back of his neck as you pressed your body closer to his. “Always.”

He sighed, the sound heavy but full of relief, and began to move again, his hips shifting slowly, almost cautiously. Your legs tangled together as his thrusts became a gentle rocking motion, his forehead still pressed to yours.

“Is this okay?” he murmured after a moment, his voice low and husky, the words almost lost in the sound of your breathing.

“It’s perfect.” you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth as you reached down to grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

His free hand slid down your back, holding you to him like he was afraid you’d slip away. There was an edge of desperation in the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way his hips stuttered slightly before he found his rhythm again. He wasn’t rushing, though — it wasn’t about chasing an end. He was savouring it, savouring you. The way he kissed you between each slow thrust, spoke louder than any words he could’ve said. 

Alex groaned softly, burying his face in your neck again as his pace quickened just enough to make your breath hitch. “Fuck…you feel so good.” he mumbled against your skin. His hand slid down to your thigh, lifting it higher around his waist to bring you even closer.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back even now, and you pressed your lips to his temple. “Let go, baby.” you whispered, your voice a soft encouragement as your fingers slid down his back. “I’ve got you.”

His breath hitched, and his pace faltered for just a moment before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His movements grew more instinctive, his restraint slipping as he finally let himself sink, hips jerking forward in a way that felt less controlled, and then he stilled, deep inside you as his body trembled against yours.

“Fuck-” he whispered, the word drawn out as he let himself go.

It was with a quiet groan against your skin, his arms tightening around you as he held you close.

You held him through it, your hands smoothing over his back as his breathing slowly began to steady, face pressed into your neck, his body still pressed flush against yours, before he finally leaned back just enough to look at you.

“I love you.” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“I love you too.” you whispered back, holding him tighter, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours as the world around you fell quiet.

Alex exhaled another deep, shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away as he settled. “You’re everything.” he said quietly, the words almost lost as he buried his face in your hair.

He stayed there, his breath fanning against your skin in slow, warm exhalations, your bodies still connected in a way that made it feel like you were sharing the same heartbeat. His arms remained draped over you, heavy and firm, holding you close in a way that felt both protective and desperate. You thought he was just catching his breath, trying to calm the storm that had been building all day. But then you felt it — his grip loosened.

It wasn’t gradual, like he was letting go consciously. It happened all at once, his hands slipping from their secure hold to rest limply against your sides, the weight of them going heavy in a way that immediately caught your attention.

“Baby.” you whispered. You tilted your head to try and get a look at his face. He didn’t stir.

“Aly.” you tried again, brushing through his damp hair, pushing the strands away from his forehead. He didn’t react, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Instead of responding, he shifted slightly, his body curling even closer to you. He made a small, soft noise — barely audible — as he burrowed further into you, pressing his face against your chest like he was trying to disappear there entirely, seeking refuge, breath tickling your skin.

Your heart softened as realisation dawned. He was asleep.

He made it ache too, all at once. You had seen how tired he was. The exhaustion he had carried — the tension in his shoulders, the weariness in his eyes, the quiet hesitations in his voice — had finally claimed him. You let your fingers continue their path through his hair, marvelling at how peaceful he looked now, his features slack and unburdened, his lips slightly parted as his breaths fell. It was such a stark contrast to the tension he so often carried.

“Sweetheart.” you murmured softly, more to yourself than to him, not expecting a response this time. You traced the line of his jaw, your thumb brushing lightly over the roughness. There was something different about it now, something softer, like sleep had stripped away all his worries and left just…him.

He shifted slightly when you moved, but he didn’t wake. Instead, his arm tightened around you — just for a moment, a subconscious reflex, like his sleeping body refused to let you go — before going slack again.

“Okay, okay.” you whispered, smiling to yourself as you adjusted under him. “I’m not going anywhere. Sleep, love.” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got you.”

The room was so quiet now, the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the house the only sounds besides his breathing. You felt the rhythm of it, how it matched yours, slow and steady and calm.

You let your fingers drift lazily along his back, tracing patterns you weren’t even aware of. Every now and then, he’d shift slightly, almost imperceptibly, like his body was adjusting to make itself even closer to you.

It was a long time before you let yourself relax fully, but eventually, the warmth of him, the heaviness of his body pressed against yours, lulled you into a kind of peaceful stillness. You stared at the ceiling for a while, your hand still tangled in his hair, and wondered how he had managed to hold so much inside himself all day without breaking.

“I love you.” you whispered into the quiet, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you.

The phone rang out, a shrill, persistent sound that echoed through the quiet house. Almost simultaneously, the familiar wail of his daughter crying reached his ears, her small voice filled with distress. Alex sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face as he tried to figure out which of the noises to attend to first. You weren’t home, and the weight of managing everything on his own was pressing down on him.

She’s not a baby anymore, he thought to himself, though the realisation did little to ease the moment’s pressure. It wasn’t like he could be in two places at once, and while the phone call could be important, the kid should be the obvious choice.

He quickly made his way down the hall towards his home studio, which had doubled as her playroom ever since she started crawling and showing an interest in being wherever he was. It wasn’t the perfect setup, but it worked. He’d learned to share his space with her, even if it meant that his creative sanctuary now had bright-coloured toys scattered between the equipment and instruments. 

But as he pushed open the door, a pang of guilt hit him. There she was, sitting on the floor amidst a sea of toys, her little face scrunched up in discomfort. Her cries had softened to pitiful whimpers, her cheeks flushed. The source of her distress quickly became apparent, one of her tiny fingers was caught between the strings of his electric guitar, which he’d left on the floor after his last session, too careless to put it back on its wall stand where it belonged.

“Ah, shit.” he muttered under his breath, cursing himself for not being more careful. He hurried over, his heart squeezing with regret. Kneeling beside her, he gently freed her finger from the strings, trying to soothe her with soft words.

“Shhh, there you go. It’s okay, love. I’ve got you.” he cooed, his voice tender as he scooped her up into his arms. The tears that had been brimming in her big eyes began to subside as she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder. Her little hands gripped onto his shirt, seeking comfort in his warmth.

He kissed the top of her head, holding her close as he stood up, already mentally punishing himself for the lapse in judgement. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That was daddy’s fault.” he murmured into her hair, feeling the softness of her curls against his lips. 

He glanced back at the guitar, still lying on the floor. The phone rang again, more insistent this time, dragging his attention away. Still holding her close, Alex made his way downstairs, his steps quick but still careful. He reached the living room just as the ringing stopped, the silence almost mocking him.

Sighing, he shifted his daughter slightly, freeing one hand to grab the phone from where it had been abandoned on the coffee table. He saw the missed call notification and frowned. It was Miles. He’d have to call him back in a minute, but for now, his daughter needed him more.

He set the phone down and turned his full attention back to her, rocking her gently as he settled onto the couch. She was calming down, her breathing evening out. Her small fingers clung to his shirt, her wide eyes still a bit teary but starting to flutter closed as she relaxed against him.

“There we go…” he whispered, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. “You’re alright now.”

He felt a rush of love and protectiveness swell in his chest as she snuggled closer, her tiny body fitting perfectly against his. It didn’t matter how tired he was or how many things he had to juggle at once. He promised himself she would be his priority, always.

As she drifted off into a light sleep, her soft breaths warm against his neck, Alex found himself smiling despite the little incident. He kissed her head once more, grateful for the quiet, however fleeting it might be, before he’d have to return that call and get back to everything else waiting for him. But he’d just hold her a little longer for now. 

He watched her, unable to tear his eyes away. She looked so peaceful, her long eyelashes resting softly against her cheeks, her small mouth slightly open as she breathed deeply. The warmth of her little body against his chest brought him a sense of calm that was hard elsewhere. 

He reached down and brushed a few stray curls away from her forehead, careful not to wake her. The way her face relaxed into sleep, her little fingers still curled into his shirt, made his heart swell with in disbelief. She was already three years old. He couldn’t believe it. It felt like just yesterday that he was pacing the floors with her as a newborn, unsure and nervous, but utterly in love.

The thought hit him suddenly. How much he had missed when he was away on tour last year. She was barely two then, and he’d had to leave you alone with her for weeks on end. He remembered the phone calls, how you’d try to sound cheerful even when he could hear the exhaustion in your voice. He felt a pang of guilt, a new kind of understanding washing over him. It was hard now, with you gone for just one day, and he had six more to go. He wasn’t incompetent or incapable, but it was definitely harder than he’d anticipated. And to think that you’d done this while he was on the other side of the world...he felt a bit of guilt for not fully realising it sooner.

As she slept in his arms, he reached for his phone, careful not to jostle her too much. He opened the camera and framed the shot. Her tiny form curled up against him, her peaceful expression softening the lines of his own tired face. He snapped the picture, already thinking about how he might send it to you later if he remembered. Maybe he wouldn’t mention the little incident with the guitar strings. Only one day without you, and he’d already let something go wrong. 

He sighed softly, tucking his phone back into his pocket as he continued to watch her. Poppy. It wasn’t short for anything, just Poppy. He remembered the discussions you both had before she was born. You weren’t the biggest fan of the name at first, thinking it was too cutesy or too simple for a first name, so you agreed it would be her middle name. But once she arrived, it was the only thing that felt right. The name just fit her so perfectly that even you had started calling her Poppy from the start. Now, it was hard to imagine her being called anything else.

As he was lost in thought, his phone buzzed in his hand, snapping him back to the present. He glanced at the screen—Miles. Right, he needed to call him back. Carefully shifting Poppy to one arm, he swiped to return the call.

Miles picked up after just a few rings. “Hey, mate. What’s up?”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t get to the phone earlier. Poppy was crying, and I had to take care of her.” Alex explained, his voice quiet so as not to disturb the now-sleeping little girl in his arms.

“No worries, Aly. It’s not a big deal.” Miles replied casually. “Just wanted to see if you were up for going out tonight. Been a while since we’ve had a proper catch-up.”

Alex hesitated, glancing down at Poppy’s sleeping form. “I’d love to, but I can’t tonight. I’ve got her all to myself. Her mum’s away on a trip, so I’m on full-time duty.”

“Ah, right.” Miles said, understanding dawning in his voice. “Well, in that case, how’s she doing? She keeping you on your toes?”

Alex smiled, the warmth in his chest spreading. “Yeah, she’s good. She’s getting so big now, though. I can hardly believe it sometimes. She’s really into drawing lately, keeps trying to ‘help’ with my music too. She’s got a good ear for it. I think.”

Miles chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Start ‘em young. You know, if you’re up for it, we could go for a walk in a bit. I haven’t seen Pop in a while.” he paused, deliberately shortening her already short name, as he always did, “I’ll bring Maxie, too. You know how much she loves him.”

Alex considered it, picturing Poppy’s sleepy face lighting up at the sight of Maxie. She adored that little white dog. “Yeah, alright.” he agreed with a smile. “Sounds like a plan. Where do you want to meet?”

“I’ll come over to yours.” Miles offered. “Give me twenty minutes?”

“Perfect,” Alex replied, “See you then.”

As he hung up the phone, Alex carefully shifted Poppy again, adjusting her so that she was cradled more securely in his arms. He stood up slowly, heading toward the stairs. There was still time to let her rest a bit longer before Miles arrived, so he used that to get dressed. 

When he came back, he gently shifted her, her little body still heavy with sleep as he moved to sit her up. He kissed the top of her head, his lips brushing against her soft curls as he murmured, “Poppy, wake up, love. Mi is coming to see you.”

She stirred at the familiar name, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists as she blinked up at him. “Mi?” she mumbled, still drowsy.

Alex smiled, nodding as he smoothed down her bedhead. “Yeah, Mi’s coming over. And guess who he’s bringing?”

Her eyes brightened instantly, the sleepiness fading as she asked, “Maxie?”

“Maxie.” Alex confirmed with a grin.

That was all it took. Poppy wriggled out of his grasp with surprising speed, her little feet hitting the floor as she started to shuffle away. Amused, Alex watched her for a moment before calling out, “And where do you think you’re going, Miss Poppy?”

She looked over her shoulder, determination set on her small face. “I want to get ready!”

Alex couldn’t help but chuckle at that. His independent little girl. “Okay, then.” he said, pushing himself off the couch and following her down the hallway to her room.

Poppy led the way, and when they reached her room, she made a beeline for her little chair, the one that sat in front of her small dresser. It was all part of the routine she knew so well. 

Alex watched with a fond smile as she climbed onto the chair, already sitting still and patient as she waited for him to do his part. She was already dressed, which made things easier. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at how grown-up she seemed sometimes.

He grabbed the small bottle of sunscreen from the dresser, squirting a bit onto his fingers before kneeling down in front of her. “Alright, close your eyes, love.” he instructed gently.

Poppy scrunched her eyes shut, tilting her face up toward him. Alex carefully applied the sunscreen to her face, making sure to cover every spot. When he was done, he leaned back with a satisfied smile. “All done.” he announced, wiping his hands on a small towel.

But Poppy wasn’t having it. She opened her eyes and immediately reached for the bottle of sunscreen, her tiny hands stretching toward him. “I want to do you too, daddy.” she insisted, her expression serious.

Alex chuckled, unable to resist her request. “Alright then.” he said, holding out the bottle so she could take a small amount onto her fingers.

Poppy concentrated hard as she dabbed the sunscreen onto his face, her little fingers patting it in with more force than was probably necessary, but Alex just smiled through it. She was so focused, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she made sure to cover his cheeks, nose, and forehead. When she was satisfied with her work, she looked at him with a proud grin. “All done!”

Alex beamed at her. “Thank you, Poppy. Now we’re both ready.”

She nodded seriously, as if this task was of the utmost importance. And to her, it probably was. Moments like these—where she got to take care of him in her own small way—seemed to mean everything to her. And, he realised, they meant everything to him too.

With the preparations done, he stood up and offered her his hand. “Shall we go wait for Mi and Maxie?”

Poppy hopped off the chair, slipping her tiny hand into his. “Yeah!” she chirped, excitement bubbling in her voice.

“Yeahh!” Alex said in turn. 

They waited in the living room, Poppy’s anticipation palpable as she fidgeted beside Alex on the couch. She kept glancing at the door every few seconds, her excitement barely contained. Alex smiled down at her, rubbing her back soothingly, but he couldn’t help but share in her eagerness. It had been a while since he’s seen Miles, and he knew how much she adored Maxie.

Finally, the sound of a knock echoed through the house, and before Alex could even react, Poppy was already on her feet, dashing toward the door. “Poppy, wait-” he called out, but she was too quick, her little legs carrying her across the room in a hurry.

Alex got up and followed, but by the time he reached the door, she was already standing there, her small hands barely reaching the handle as she tried to open it. He chuckled, stepping in to help her. “Let me get that for you.” he said, lifting her slightly to give her better leverage.

As soon as the door swung open, she squeezed her way in front of him, her eyes immediately locking onto Maxie, who was wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of her. “Maxie!” she squealed, dropping to her knees to hug the little dog. Maxie licked her face in return, his tail wagging even faster as she giggled, completely enamoured.

“Careful, Poppy.” Alex reminded her gently. 

With her occupied, Alex turned his attention to the tall figure standing in the doorway. Miles grinned at him, his eyes warm with familiarity. “Long time no see.” Miles greeted, stepping forward.

Alex pulled him into a hug, patting him on the back. “Good to see you, Miles.” he said. There was something comforting about having him around, a steady presence that had been in his life for years and years now.

As they pulled back from the hug, Alex glanced down at Poppy, who was still engrossed in her reunion with Maxie. Miles followed his gaze, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “She’s grown, hasn’t she? Last time I saw her, she wasn’t even up to my knee.”

“Tell me about it.” Alex replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “She’s a proper little person now.”

Miles chuckled. “She’s still got that same smile, though. Just like you.”

Alex smiled, warmth spreading through him at the compliment. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride whenever someone pointed out the similarities between them. “Yeah, she does.” he said softly, watching as she continued to play with Maxie, her laughter filling the hallway.

Maxie was now rolling onto his back, paws in the air as Poppy scratched his belly. She was completely absorbed, her earlier sleepiness forgotten. 

“Maxie missed you too, Pop.” Miles said, leaning down slightly to ruffle the dog’s fur.

Poppy looked up at him with a wide grin. “I missed him more!” she declared confidently, making both men laugh.

“She’s got a point.” Alex said, looking at Miles with a smirk. “Maxie is a tough competitor, but Poppy’s got him beat in the missing department.”

Miles grinned back. “It’s a close call, though.” 

As she continued playing with Maxie, Alex and Miles exchanged another glance, both of them silently agreeing that this little visit was just what they all needed.

Miles straightened up, giving Maxie one last pat before looking over at Alex. “So, you all ready to go?” he asked, his tone light but with an undertone of understanding. He knew Alex had been alone with Poppy for only a day, but sometimes that was enough to make anyone feel a bit out of sorts.

“Yeah, just need to grab my bag. Won’t be a sec.” Alex replied, giving a nod toward the hallway.

“Alright, we’ll be here.” Miles said, reaching down to unclip Maxie’s leash from his belt loop, letting the dog roam freely in the small entryway as Alex disappeared down the hall.

Poppy was still thoroughly engrossed in him, who had rolled over onto his back again, clearly enjoying all the attention. Miles watched them with a smile. There was something grounding about moments like these, seeing his best mate’s kid happy and healthy, playing with his dog like nothing else in the world mattered.

It didn’t take long for Alex to return, slinging a small bag over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s go.” he said, his eyes flicking down to Poppy. “You ready, love?”

Poppy nodded enthusiastically, but didn’t let go of Maxie’s fur, still holding on as if he might disappear if she released him.

Miles chuckled, clipping the leash back onto Maxie’s collar. “Come on, Max.”

The three of them headed out, the warm afternoon sun greeting them as they stepped onto the pavement. They didn’t venture far, just down the street and into the park that stretched out right near Alex’s house. It was a quiet, familiar spot, with a small playground that Poppy loved and plenty of space for Maxie to run around.

They strolled along the path, Poppy happily trotting beside Maxie, occasionally glancing back at the two men as they talked. They kept the conversation light at first, catching up on what Miles had been up to, how things were going with the band, and how he was feeling about everything. But eventually, he couldn’t help but admit the truth that had been bubbling up inside him all day.

“You know…” Alex began, his voice a little lower, more serious. “It feels like I’m already going a bit crazy on my own. It’s only been a day, but…it’s harder than I thought it would be. Respect to her for handling this as well as she does.”

Miles glanced at him, understanding in his eyes. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re doing fine.”

Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked ahead, watching Poppy chase after Maxie who had taken off toward a patch of grass. “Yeah, but still. I didn’t expect to feel like this, you know? And she’s not back for another six days.”

“Why don’t I stay over for a bit?” Miles suggested, his tone casual but sincere. “We can hang out, have a couple of beers, let Pop tire herself out. Might be good for you to have some company.”

Alex turned to him, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You sure? I don’t want to impose or anything.”

“You’re not imposing. I wanted to see you anyway. Besides, Maxie’s loving it, and I wouldn’t mind spending some more time with Pop. And you, obviously.” Miles added with a teasing grin.

Alex chuckled, feeling a bit of the tension lift from his shoulders. “Yeah…that would be nice. Thanks, Miles.”

“No problem. It’ll be like old times…with a few more responsibilities thrown in.” Miles said with a wink, making Alex laugh.

They eventually made their way back to Alex’s place, the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the neighbourhood. Poppy skipped ahead, still holding onto Maxie’s leash as they reached the front door. Alex unlocked it, letting her and Maxie rush inside before turning to Miles.

“Hey, I think I might still have some food for Max from the last time you stayed over.” Alex said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit sheepishly. “If you, uh, want to stick around for a while…like, even stay the night if- if you wanna.”

He caught himself stuttering over the last part, a slight flush creeping up his neck. It wasn’t like him to be uncertain around Miles, but something about asking him to stay made Alex feel a bit vulnerable. He wasn’t used to admitting he needed company, especially when it came to something as simple as getting through the night with his kid.

Miles noticed the shift in Alex’s tone, a small smile playing on his lips as he clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “That sounds perfect. Don’t worry about it. Maxie and I can crash here. No trouble at all.”

Alex let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thanks, Miles. Really. It’s…I appreciate it.”

Miles just gave him a reassuring nod, and together they stepped inside, closing the door behind them. Poppy and Maxie were already in the living room, the little girl laughing as she threw a soft toy for the dog to chase. 

Alex watched them for a whole before he moved into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and grabbing two beers. Popping the caps off, he handed one to Miles as he joined him. They stood there for a moment, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

Miles took a sip of his beer, glancing over at the living room where Poppy and Maxie were still happily playing. “You’re doing great, you know.” he said, his voice calm and steady. “She’s a good kid, and you’re a good dad.”

Alex looked down at his beer, swirling the bottle in his hand before taking a long drink. “I just don’t want to mess it up, you know? I didn’t realise how much…how much she depends on me. And on her. It’s different when you’re here alone, trying to keep it all together.”

Miles nodded, understanding the unspoken thoughts behind Alex’s words. “That’s why you’ve got me here tonight.”

Alex smiled, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, you’re right. Feels good having you here.” He glanced over at Poppy and Maxie, his heart swelling with affection for his little girl. “And I think she’s pretty happy about it too.”

They both chuckled, clinking their bottles together before taking another sip. The evening stretched out before them, the soft sounds of Poppy’s laughter and Maxie’s playful barks filling the room. 

They settled onto the couch, the evening’s warmth lingering in the cosy living room. Alex stretched out, feeling more relaxed than he had in days, while Miles sank into the cushions beside him, their beers still in hand. Poppy toddled over with wide, curious eyes.

“I want to drink with you too.” she announced, her voice full of determination as she pointed at their beer bottles.

Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “Your mother would kill me if she knew I gave you beer, P.”

Miles, always quick with a playful idea, leaned forward and proposed something to her. “How about we have a tea party instead?”

Alex raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with mock disapproval. “A bit late for tea, don’t you think?”

“Come onnn, Alex.” Miles persisted, dragging out his words for effect.

“Come on, Alex!” Poppy echoed, her voice sweetly insistent as she imitated Miles.

Alex shot Miles a mock glare, trying to keep a straight face. “Great, now you’ve got her calling me Alex instead of dad.”

Miles leaned back, unable to resist teasing further. “Come on, daddy.” he drawled, adding a cheeky wink that made Alex roll his eyes.

“Oh, shut up.” Alex shot back, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

Poppy giggled at their banter, her eyes sparkling with the joy of being included in their little game. She climbed up onto the couch between them, looking expectantly at Alex, who let out a sigh that was more amused than exasperated.

“Fine!” he said, conceding defeat. “How about we have a ‘pretend’ tea party, then? No real tea, though.”

Miles nodded, playing along. “Sounds like a plan. But, Poppy, I think your daddy might need some practice with his tea party skills. He’s a bit rusty.”

Poppy nodded seriously, and Alex couldn’t help but laugh at how effortlessly Miles could charm his way into any situation, even turning a bedtime tea party into something fun.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Alex said, setting his beer down and leaning closer to Poppy. “But remember, no actual tea this late. Just pretend, okay?”

She climbed off the couch and ran to grab her toy tea set, leaving the two men to exchange a knowing look.

As she returned with the tiny cups and teapot, Miles shot Alex a grin. “You’re a natural. I’m impressed.”

Alex gave him a playful shove, but his eyes were warm. “Yeah, well…I’ve had some good influences.”

They both settled into their roles, letting Poppy pour invisible tea into their cups as they humoured her with exaggerated sips and polite conversation. Alex might have been tired, and maybe even a little stressed, but he knew it would be fine, despite his doubts about himself sometimes. 

a/n: i don’t know what this is i just felt like writing it