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It’s dark by the time Alphinaud makes it home from a Forum meeting run overlong. Longer still because he stopped by the Last Stand to pick up the dinner he had promised and had to patiently contend with a long line. O’hmisha will be understanding as always, he knows, but he still doublechecks the bag for his preemptive peace offering—a generous slice of buttercream cake—before opening the door.
He had expected to be met with an understandably cranky husband, so Alphinaud is surprised to find the downstairs completely lightless with no one in sight. Sidling up to the large table in the center of the room, he sets his things down after scooting some of O’hmisha’s scattered books and papers to the side. Had the miqo’te grown tired of waiting and seen to dinner himself? Perhaps he had already turned in for the night…
A small sound draws Alphinaud’s attention toward the cushioned window seat nestled in the corner, where his eyes fall upon the figure of his sleeping husband, snoring softly with a blanket half-slid onto the floor and their infant daughter splayed out across his chest. He wonders for how long the two have been like this—long enough that O’hmisha hadn’t turned on any lights as the sun set a few hours past. Even the nearby fireplace has burnt down to embers by now.
Alphinaud smiles and approaches as quietly as he can manage. Closer now, he can see that O’hmisha’s head has lolled back from how snuggly she’s tucked beneath his chin. He can’t help but huff quietly at how uncomfortable the position looks; the miqo’te will probably wake up with a crick in his neck. Amusing as it is, the tender sight makes his heart ache with an immeasurable fondness.
O’hmisha has taken to parenthood with surprising ease in the few short months they’ve had her—thanks in no small part to his mother-in-law and her wealth of advice, no doubt—with levels of patience and compassion Alphinaud is sure he’s never seen from the man in the almost thirteen years since they met. He almost regrets having to wake him, but between taking care of Ophiliette and stubbornly preparing for the upcoming semester’s teaching, he always has to wonder if the man remembered to feed himself throughout the day.
“Misha,” Alphinaud whispers as he kneels down beside them. The miqo’te stirs only slightly, exhaling deeply and furrowing his brows as he turns his head to one side. “Misha,” he tries again, louder, and waits a moment for O’hmisha’s eyes to flutter open with a confused hum.
Bleary eyes shift first to Ophiliette as she fidgets against his chest, then to Alphinaud at his side. “Welcome home,” he mumbles as he blinks away sleep. He groans softly as he seems to realize how stiff he is, rolling his neck as best he can with their daughter still resting beneath his chin. Alphinaud places a careful hand on Ophiliette’s back before gently lifting her from O’hmisha’s grasp as he stands. She whines for only a few seconds before settling into his arms.
“Sorry about the mess on the table, I meant to clean downstairs some before you got home,” O’hmisha explains as he sits up, “But then her gums started bothering her, so I sat and watched her teethe for a bit—I know it’s not a fever, Ameliance assured me, but I still…” The miqo’te’s ears draw back as he frowns worriedly, gaze drifting between Alphinaud and the tiny form in his arms. “Anyway, she worked up quite the appetite during, then got fussy after I fed her.” He sighs. “It’s my fault for letting her drink so fast, but she’s just been so ravenous lately—I keep wondering if she’ll hit a small growth spurt soon, though it feels a bit soon for that. I suppose if her elezen genes kick in first then it seems a bit more likely…In any case, I thought to lay down and rub her back for a bit to calm her down, but I must’ve drifted off as well…”
Alphinaud huffs a laugh at the flustered recounting. “Am I safe to assume you didn’t feed yourself at any point during all of that?” O’hmisha merely spares him an apologetic smile in response, as expected. “Just as well that I still stopped for dinner, then. Help yourself; I’ll eat either.” He inclines his head toward the large sack on the table containing their food and turns to take Ophiliette upstairs to her crib. She blinks tiredly at him after leaving the comfort of his arms, frustration on full display as she pouts and mouths silently with a barely contained outburst, and it takes a few minutes to settle her back to sleep.
Back downstairs, Alphinaud is greeted by a fresh fire burning in the hearth and a slightly tidier table. He waits at the base of the stairs for a moment to watch O’hmisha, who appears to have stopped partway through setting out their supper to stare longingly at the open box in front of him and, presumably, weigh the downsides of spoiling his appetite by starting with dessert. He can practically see the conflict unfolding in the jerky motions of the miqo’te’s tail as it sways from beneath a shirt that seems entirely too large for him—
“Is that my nightshirt?” Alphinaud asks, grinning with amusement when O’hmisha starts at the sound of his voice.
“Ah—Yes, well, you see…” The miqo’te begins to hurriedly unpack the rest of the to-go sack, as though he hadn’t been caught mid-debate with himself. Alphinaud quietly strides forward as his husband hastens to explain, “Ophiliette spit up on mine—on the shirt I was wearing, I mean—and yours was still laying out on the bed from this morning so I thought I’d just borrow it for a while, until I washed and dried mine. But then I…fell asleep before I had a chance to change, sorry…Anyway, it should be well past dry by now, so you can have yours back—”
O’hmisha cuts off at the feeling of Alphinaud’s firm grasp on either shoulder, thumbs rolling across his neck in a gentle massage. “Keep it,” he insists, smiling as the miqo’te leans into the attention with a pleased hum, “I have others.”
The sight had admittedly surprised him—he can barely remember the last time they’d borrowed clothes from each other, and even then he can only recall times where he had borrowed from O’hmisha back before his growth spurt—but it’s hardly a matter to apologize over. Alphinaud is more than happy to offer the assurance though. In truth, he thinks he’d like to encourage the behavior. Partly because the miqo’te looks so terribly comfortable, but more selfishly for view of bare legs the oversized garment offers, swallowing his figure enough to fit like a short gown while leaving a scant view of stocky, freckled thighs below the hem that nearly reaches his knees.
“Come, let’s get you fed before Ophiliette decides she’s had enough rest.” Alphinaud squeezes O’hmisha’s shoulders a couple times with finality, smiling in unguarded amusement as the miqo’te huffs his disappointment, head tipping back against Alphinaud’s stomach to pout up at him. “Mmm…I’m beginning to see where Ophiliette gets that fierce scowl from. Well, if you’re in need of encouragement, perhaps you could start with a bite of that cake you were ogling. To whet your appetite,” Alphinaud teases, laughing softly at the indignant flush that spreads across the miqo’te cheeks. He leans over to steal a quick kiss before steering his stubborn husband toward a chair.