#henrik singing to his pregnant husband who is drinking caffeine WAY too late at night

[bwayfan25]

Time for Bed

Cold rain pounded at the window, its sound mingling comfortably with the crackling of the fire. The peace of a quiet night reading was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the last several… well, let’s just say since leaving Maroak.

He flipped a page as a tinkling sound came from the kitchen. Sure enough, he glanced up to see Ollis crossing towards him, a steaming teacup in their hand. They smiled at him as they took a sip.

As long as he’d known them, Ollis had never cared to tie their robe closed at night. It helped in temperature regulation, sure, but more so was meant to give a clear view of the scars on their chest. But lately, given how much their stomach had swollen, Henrik wasn’t sure they could close it if they wanted to.

Ollis handed him their cup so they could lower themself down onto the sofa next to him. They let out a sigh of relief (much as they did almost every time they sat down these days) and rested their arm on top of their baby bump.

Once settled, Henrik handed them the teacup. They began to mutter a word of thanks, but had no chance to finish as Henrik brushed their long hair back behind their ear and kissed them on the cheek. Ollis decided instead to show their gratitude by turning their head to kiss them square on the lips.

As they pulled away, Henrik caught the taste on their lips not of tea but caf. He smirked.

“Is it a good idea to be drinking this late at night?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I don’t want you lying awake all night.”

Ollis rolled their eyes and then took another sip just to spite him.

“I’m more likely to fall asleep after drinking caf than I am to stay awake.”

Henrik playfully narrowed his eyes before remarking, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Not for most people, maybe,” Ollis conceded. “But you forget. I’m special.”

“I’m fairly certain that the word is ‘weird.’”

Ollis rolled their eyes again, but settled in comfortably as Henrik put his arm around their shoulder. As they did so, they craned their neck to see the book in his far hand.

“What are you reading?”

Henrik shifted a bit, blocking their view. But the move only served to pique their curiosity.

“Come on. What is it?” they urged before dropping their voice and purring, “Is it something you can only show me if we’re alone? Because we’re alone now…”

Henrik rolled his eyes as his cheeks automatically turned red.

“If you must know…” He inhaled deeply. “It’s a book of nursery rhymes.”

He knew better than to look at Ollis right at this moment, but he couldn’t help himself. And, sure enough, they were gazing at him with that soft, loving smile that made him feel every which way but up.

“Practicing?” Ollis asked. At Henrik’s replying nod, they nodded him on with a, “Go on then. Read to me.”

Henrik rolled his eyes, but nevertheless obliged. But he wasn’t even two words into The Mad Mistress when Ollis stopped him.

“What?” Henrik said with a huff. “You told me to read it to you.”

“Yeah, but that one’s a song. You have to sing it,” Ollis insisted. “You know how it goes. Mad mistress Maja made many muffins. Many, many muffins did she make.”

“I believe the lyrics are ‘Mad mistress Marla,’” Henrik pointed out.

He showed them the book. Ollis paused for a moment, frowning, before nodding in understanding.

“I always wondered why Papa was the only one who ever sang it like that. And why Mama always gave him a look afterwards,” they remarked thoughtfully. “Anyway, go on. Sing to me.”

Henrik shook his head. But Ollis scooted closer to him and their touch instantly made him give in.

In a voice so low that only Ollis could hear him, Henrik quietly sang the nursery rhyme followed by several others. Ollis contentedly sipped their caf, occasionally singing along with him or expressing their admiration through kisses when he stopped for breath.

But as Henrik finished a particularly jaunty tune called Is There Any Such Thing?, he heard Ollis gasp and immediately tensed.

“What? What is it?” he asked quickly.

He turned, expecting to see them having spilled caf over their bare(d) chest or doubled over as a contraction seized their abdomen, but he found neither. The only movement that seemed to have occurred was Ollis’ arm having traveled from the top of their stomach to a spot on the side.

“Don’t worry. It’s okay,” they assured him calmly. “The baby’s just moving around a lot. I think they like it when you sing.”

The thought of the baby hearing him sing (and liking it) made Henrik’s chest clench. But it wasn’t the painful clench of anxiety or shame that he was used to, but a more… pleasant one. Like the feeling that preceded happy tears.

“I think you gave them too much caf,” he said, nodding at the cup in Ollis’ hand.

“I’m giving them exactly as much as the midwife said is safe. It’s you,” they replied. “So, go on. Don’t stop now. They’re enjoying it.”

For a moment, Henrik almost asked which ‘they’ they were referring to, but instead just turned back to his book. He softly sang a few more of the rhymes, but it wasn’t long before he realized Ollis wasn’t singing or urging him on.

He glanced at them out of the corner of his eye to find them sitting very still. Their eyes were closed, the teacup raised halfway to their lips. Their breathing had grown slow and even and they seemed to rock just slightly, as if lulled by the rhymes he read.

“Ollis?” Henrik asked softly. “My love?”

Ollis’ eyes slowly opened. They blinked a few times and muttered an apology. Henrik just took the teacup from them and set it on a nearby table.

“I guess you’re right,” he said, chuckling as he offered them a hand to stand up. “Caf really can put you to sleep.”

“I told you it could,” Ollis replied. “However, if the little feet kicking my bladder is any indication, I don’t think it has any effect on the baby. Which means I might end up lying awake all night after all.”