DISTRIBUTION: The Queen C scribes, Fate's Intervention, The Loft
DISCLAIMER: Cordy and Doyle belong to Joss Whedon. This story belongs to me.
SPOILERS: Future fic written before the premiere of 'Angel', may contain spoilers. This takes place after my (forthcoming) story 'Kingdom come' but you don't need to have read it for this.
RATING/CONTENT: G. Kinda sappy.
SUMMARY: Cordelia's trying to put her son to bed, but her clever plan backfires.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I based this on a Calvin and Hobbes strip. I'm the only fanfic writer I know who gets inspiration from the comics page…
The little boy shrieked as he ran down the stairs. Hearing the thud of footsteps behind him, he squealed again and skidded as he turned to the left and raced into the living room. His chocolate brown eyes widened as he realized he was running into a dead end. He risked a look over his shoulder, and quickly skidded onto his bottom and swiveled, pushing off to run between his pursuer's legs.
But it was too late.
He shrieked with the full volume of his five-year-old lungs as he was captured with a triumphant, "Gotcha!"
Cordelia Chase-Doyle laughed and swung her son in her arms as she twirled around. He screamed in delight as she swung him between her legs, clasping him with her thighs in order to use both hands to tickle him mercilessly. He wriggled so much that he slipped down and out, landing on the floor with a small thump. He was laughing so hard that he barely noticed.
He tried to crawl away but his mommy was too quick, she pounced on him, and they rolled along the living room floor until her feet thumped against the wall, trying to tickle each other and laughing the whole way. Eventually, the two fell silent and lay on the floor.
Cordelia smiled and cuddled her son closer. She never stopped appreciating how lucky she was to have him; she and Doyle had been convinced that they could never have children. Then their little miracle had come along. Doyle and Cordelia had their suspicions about how that had happened, especially since he had been born on the first anniversary of Buffy and Angel's death. But if Angel had been chosen to be reborn as his namesake, they were honored. If not, then it didn't make any difference to how much they loved him.
Her child gave a smile even more charming than his father's, and patted her face with his little hands. Cordelia smiled and rested her head on her arm, and let her mind drift away.
When Doyle came through the door, the first thing he saw was his black-haired son sitting on the hallway floor. He knelt and picked him up as he asked, "Where's your mother, then?"
Roarke gave him a big grin, and pointed to the living room doorway. Doyle shifted Roarke over to his hip as he headed to the doorway. He looked inside and smiled. His wife was curled up on the floor, fast asleep.
His son explained in a solemn voice, "Her plan backfired, Da. Now I'm still wired up, and Mommy's asleep."
"You still have to go to bed, though," Doyle told him firmly. His son nodded with a resigned air, and sighed. Doyle hid a smile and carried Roarke upstairs.
After he put his son to bed with a glass of water on the nightstand, Doyle silently hurried downstairs again. He crept into the living room and found his wife still asleep. Grinning, he picked her up easily in his arms and carried her to the stairs. As he climbed, he whispered, "Usually when I carry you upstairs, you're not near asleep."
Cordelia sighed and snuggled closer to her husband, putting her head on his shoulder. Amused and touched by her reaction, even in her sleep, Doyle kissed her forehead before he continued, "Don't tell our son this-don't want him to have a complex-but you're a lot more fun to put to bed than he is."
He reached their bedroom and gently laid her on their bed. Both of them tended to toss and turn restlessly when one of them was absent; of course, none of their friends believed that was why they'd chosen the huge bed. When he had first seen it, Xander had made a comment that sent Cordelia chasing him all around the house.
He gently smoothed back a strand of brown hair, only to find Cordelia's bright eyes open and watching him. "Have a nice nap?" Doyle asked, his voice touched with a laugh.
Cordelia nodded, reached out to grab his shirtfront, and pulled him across her. Doyle ended up flat on his back next to her with Cordelia half on top of him, her eyes sparkling in a way he knew very well. "I'm nice and rested now, thank you very much," she told him.
As she proceeded to prove it, Doyle was very thankful that he'd shut the bedroom door.