Work Text:
If only you could see them.
The scene unfolding seems almost too precious as if it had been taken out of a picture book. Your husband is seemingly asleep on a bed that feels too big, too empty for him alone—in his arms, your daughter is sleeping peacefully, one hand tightly holding onto her father’s robe, the other wrapped around that stuffed bunny you had chosen for her before she was even born. The scene is almost perfect.
Almost.
Until your daughter finally stirs, at least, and tries to escape her father’s arms.
“Daddy, stop,” The little girl squirms in Ayato’s arms, pushing against his chest in a desperate attempt to get away from her father. It does not work. It never works, you could have told her that, but seeing as you were out for the week tending to business, your poor daughter is left to deal with him on her own. “I really need to go!”
“No, you don’t.”
Needy as he always is, Ayato merely tightens his hold on her, holding her to his chest as if she were no more than a doll. It is a habit; he had learned to hold her like this when she was still a baby, parading her in front of the elders as if to torture them with the picture. His arms stay wrapped protectively around the six-year-old, her squirming limbs the only thing one could make out of her amidst the sheets and the embrace.
“Daddy!” She squealed again, louder this time, almost threatening. Ayato recognizes the tone—it is the one that says she is not scared to awake the entire household if he does not let her go. “The restroom!”
“You just want to abandon me like your mother did,” He says, in mock sadness, his arms loosening just a fraction in his embrace.
His daughter sighs. She sighs deeply, exasperated, and the unamused look she gives him reminds him so much of you that he cannot help himself—Ayato pulls her closer, butterfly kisses pressed to her forehead and cheeks. Under normal circumstances, she would be melting into echoing giggles, but this time his daughter remains unfazed. Not even a smile curved into her lips.
“Mommy didn’t abandon you!” She squirms again, trying her best to run out of his hold. “Mommy’s working!”
“If I let you go, you’re going to abandon me, too. I just know it.”
His daughter stays quiet, still, as if she has given up against her dad’s stubbornness. There are many things Ayato is not, but she has learned from an early age that her father has a knack for the dramatics. Even when you left early that morning, she had observed him as he held onto you, arms wrapped around you and refusing to let you go no matter how many times you reminded him that you were going to be late. He didn’t care. He didn’t let you go until he had given you more kisses you could count and reminded you that you had cursed him to sleep in an empty and cold bed that night—as if that would have made your work any less important; as if that would have convinced you to play hooky and stay with him.
That had been the beginning, hadn’t it?
Your poor daughter, who has always had quite the soft spot for her father, had felt bad. It wasn’t the first, and it certainly will not be the last time, but whenever she saw his face stained in agony as you left—be it for a week or an hour—she couldn’t help but sympathize. She missed you, too, whenever you had to leave. She misses you, even now, which would explain why she holds the bunny tightly even as she fight—or fought, anyway— to be free from her dad’s relentless embrace.
The bunny smells like you. It’s just that simple.
She wonders if her dad would be less needy if he had a bunny to hold that smelled like you, too.
Because that is the root of the problem.
Ayato, although dramatic, does feel quite lonely when you are away. His bed seems too big just for him, too empty, as if it refused to let him forget for a second that your body is supposed to be there, next to him. Thoma knows. Ayaka knows. Ayato barely sleeps whenever you are away—it is common knowledge within the estate, but he refuses to acknowledge it. He is lonely, and he had felt delighted when his little princess offered to sleep with him that evening.
An offer she is definitely regretting now, he realizes.
“You’re stuck with an annoying dad, huh?” Ayato asks, after a few seconds, finally unwrapping his arms. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
The effect is immediate; she sprints towards the door, and Ayato laughs. A few minutes later he hears the soft padding of her steps coming back. He stays there, on the bed, watching the ceiling. He remembers the first time he heard those little steps, the first time he saw her take them toward him, the way Ayaka had held her breath, Thoma trying his best not to burst into tears, and you… Well, you had been filled with pride.
He wonders if his daughter is actually coming back, or if she’d rather escape into Ayaka’s room to avoid her annoying dad. Her extremely clingy and needy father, as you always called him. Ayato would not blame her—even if he had been joking earlier, he knows when he has gone too far, and the little girl takes too much after you for her not to be upset. She might even tell on him with you as soon as you return, and he can almost picture the disappointment painting your face.
Nevertheless, in spite his growing worry, the soft padding of his little girl actually does approach his door. She slides the door open, her brows furrowed, and still she walks to him. Willingly, without him having to say anything, she gets into bed and takes his own arm to wrap it around herself without a word.
Ayato merely watches, with a smile.
“You’re not annoying, Daddy.” She finally says, rubbing her eyes with the ball of her hands. “I love you. And Mommy loves you, too. Can we just sleep?”
He chuckles.
“Of course, princess. Let’s go to sleep now.”
Ayato presses a kiss to her forehead, then—a silent wish for her to never have to grow up as fast as he did.