#gnight

it is seven in the morning when nanami feels chubby small fingers grab at his face. it is also two hours before he is supposed to wake up and get ready for work. he blinks slowly, his vision adjusting to the dim light. beside him, you sleeps peacefully.

so he looks down to see the culprit.

his daughter. whose hair was sticking up in odd angles that would make him smile under different circumstances. but right now, in the pre-dawn quiet, she looks small. frightened.

“papa. i scared.” she whispers, setting her head down on his chest.

“why are you scared, sweetheart? it’s almost morning,” he asks, large calloused fingers combing through his baby girl’s hair. morning glory has already seeped into your shared bedroom, a pale yet warm glow creeping inside the room.

"i had a scary dream," she whispers, and then her face creases. "there were monsters and—and you weren't there and mama wasn't there and—"

"shh, shh," nanami soothes, gathering her into his arms. she's so small still, all soft cheeks and tiny fingers that grip his sleep shirt like he might disappear. "it was just a dream. you're safe now. papa's here."

she buries her face in his shoulder, and he can feel the hot dampness of tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt. his heart clenches. he's faced curses that would make grown men lose their minds, has stared down death more times than he can count, but this—his daughter's tears, her fear—this unmakes him in ways nothing else can.

“shh, shh… it’s okay sweetheart, don’t cry…” he coos, smoothing her hair out. “papa’s here. don’t be scared.”

your eyes flutter open slowly, adjusting to the dim light. "mm? baby?" your voice is thick with sleep, concerned.

"she had a bad dream," nanami explains quietly. "she's okay now."

you doesn't hesitate. you shifts closer, wrapping your arm around your daughter from the other side, creating a cocoon of warmth. "oh, baby," you murmur, still half-asleep but fully present in the way that mothers always are. "’s okay, come sleep,”

your daughter climbed into the bed, sandwiched between you and nanami now, small and warm and safe, her stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin. nanami can feel the tension slowly leaving her body, the way her breathing starts to even out as the fear dissipates.

and goodness, nanami would not trade being a father, a husband, for anything.