We haven't lost it all yet (Peter, Thomas)

[father-peter.livejournal.com]

Peter had actually fallen asleep, despite insomnia and troubles and all the odds stacked against that very event occurring. Blessed, blissful sleep. And it hadn't been interrupted by dreams or nightmares or visions or crazy, angry wives. Though he did feel the bed move as he came out of his daze and when he opened his eyes, Peter did so to see baby Thomas crawling up towards his head with a manic grin on his face. "Dada!" Thomas cried happily when he was spotted, and Peter blinked blearily at him.

"How the-?" Peter sat up and he stared over at the playpen Thomas had been sleeping in. In the absence of a nursery, it worked alright. Lauren was still occupying the crib Liz happened to have lying around (Peter was sure it had been his once upon a time...), so a playpen had to make do for 23-month-old Thomas. But as Peter stared at Thomas, wondering how he had gotten out of the playpen, Thomas just gave him a wicked smile. He gave nothing away.

"Dada sleep!"

"That's right, Daddy was asleep." Peter returned Thomas' smile, though his own was much less wicked. He reached out for his son, drawing the little boy closer to him. "How is my brave little boy, hmm? Part monkey, apparently." He was going to be making his way over the safety barriers in no time, now...

Thomas laughed, though he hadn't really understood what Peter was saying. He just liked monkeys. "Mama?" Thomas curled up against Peter's chest and he reached for Peter's hair, which he always found endlessly fascinating. "Mama here?"

"No, Mama's not here." Peter leaned down to kiss Thomas' head, and then he lay back down in the bed and he pulled Thomas to his side. "But she loves you." Peter added, because he knew it was true. Whatever Aly was going through, she did love her children. She just needed to remember that. And in response to his assurances, he was sure he heard Thomas sigh. If two-year-olds could sigh!

"Thomas sleep." Thomas informed Peter, and then he turned on his side and buried his head against Peter's chest.

"Oh, of course your highness, your playpen isn't good enough for you, you have to sleep in my bed." Peter mumbled, but he was inherently amused. His son was amazingly adorable and funny and Peter had absolutely no problem with the little boy sharing his bed, curled up in his arms. In fact, it was nicer than lying there alone. "Thomas sleep." Peter repeated back to his son, running his fingers through Thomas' curly hair.

"Dada sing!" Thomas requested, moving his face back so he could grin disarmingly at his father. "Sing! Sing monkey!"

Peter chuckled, as he knew Thomas was requesting the monkey song, and he was happy to comply, since no one else was present to mock him for the rest of forever. "Five little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. Mama called the Doctor and the Doctor said, 'No more monkeys jumping on the bed!' Or in your case, climbing out of bed."

"Daddyyyyyy!" Thomas looked miffed. "Sing!"

Peter laughed loudly, though not loudly enough to wake up the still slumbering Lauren, and he continued the song all the way to the end. By the time he was finished, Thomas was asleep again in his arms. Peter took a deep and peaceful breath and he kissed Thomas' head before letting his own fall back against the pillows again. It was nice to be reminded that not everything was falling apart. Trust his children to do so.