#leecifrawr

“Do you hear something?” Leah Gideon asked her husband. It was rhetorical, of course, since there was nothing. No pounding of little feet running across the house, no yelling or squabbling filling the air. No sound to expose where their children were, or what they were doing.

It was too quiet. Rhys sighed and listened, shifter senses wading through the overload of sounds to find any trace of the children. He could hear Leah’s heartbeat and steady breathing, the hum of the oven downstairs, and the faintest muffled giggles of his eldest child.

“Leo’s room,” Leah said, unprompted confirmation, and Rhys nodded. Together, they crept down the hallway to their youngest child’s room, footsteps whisper-soft on the carpet, listening. There was the rustling of fabric and what was unmistakably Leo’s coos, shushed gently by their older siblings, followed by more giggles.

Rhys paused outside the door of Leo’s room, head tilted to listen, hand poised over the doorknob. He considered his options: ruin whatever surprise the kids were planning to check that no one was being hurt or covered in marker (again), or wait to see if the kids stopped being as secretive and actually called their parents to come to see.

He didn’t have to wait long. There was a brief silence on the other side of the door, and Leo’s ear-splitting shriek broke the unnatural calm. Rhys pushed open the door, scanning the room, Leah brushing up at his side to join him.

Both of them stopped and stared.

Leo giggled and waved their pudgy hands at Rhys and Leah, amber eyes glinting with the shine of the Christmas lights. Ophelia and Everett looked up, guilt-struck at the sight of their parents, then looked back at their younger sibling. Under all the attention and wrapped loosely in a bundle of Christmas lights, Leo looked back up at them, still smiling.

“Kids,” Leah finally said, “Why is Leo covered in lights?”

Ophelia glanced at her younger brother then shrugged. Everett considered this, brow furrowed, and then shrugged, too. Unimpressed, Rhys leveled a look at both of them, and Leah managed to shake away her initial surprise to go unwrap her youngest from the string lights.

“Leo likes the lights, Mama,” Ophelia explained. She watched Leah brush away the strands and pull Leo into her arms, safely out of reach from their siblings, seemingly unbothered by the whole experience. Ophelia, on the other hand, was starting to get a better idea for next year. One that involved the bows and ribbons Leo liked so much, especially when you put a bow on the crown of their head or draped ribbon on them.

“Lights can be dangerous for babies, and they aren’t for children,” Leah said firmly. Properly chastised, Ophelia and Everett mumbled in agreement and let themselves be herded out of Leo’s room. Rhys watched them go, stern-faced, and only lost his scolding look when the kids were out of sight and Leah buried her face in Leo’s curls, grinning.

“That was adorable,” she said against the crown of Leo’s head. Leo cooed in agreement, but a sudden thought struck Rhys as he stared at the glowing jumble of lights on the floor.