Would you write something for George where his wife and their children prepare something special for his birthday?
A/n: YESSSSS ( i love George )
The home was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. Too quiet. And that alone should have made George suspicious.
But he was still fast asleep, his arm draped lazily over the pillow where you should have been. Instead, you were downstairs, orchestrating what could only be described as organized chaos.
The kitchen smelled of warm cinnamon and chocolate, the air thick with the aroma of freshly baked pastries and a cake that had taken three attempts to get just right—because little hands had kept sneaking tastes of the batter. The twins, Arthur and Leo, had been particularly difficult to wrangle, their excitement too much to contain.
“Mummy, is the cake done yet?” Arthur, the elder twin by exactly four minutes, bounced on his heels, his red hair sticking up wildly.
“Not yet, love,” You answered patiently, smoothing icing over the top. “But you can help me decorate it.”
Leo, the more mischievous of the two, was already dipping a finger into the bowl of icing when his sister, Lily, smacked his hand away.
“Mum said no tasting!” she scolded, her green eyes narrowing at her younger brother.
“I was testing it,” Leo huffed, licking his finger anyway.
From across the room, the youngest, little Nora, sat on the floor, clutching a crayon in her chubby fist, carefully drawing what she insisted was “Daddy’s face” on a large piece of parchment. So far, it looked more like an oddly shaped potato with freckles.
You glanced at the clock. You were running out of time. George was known for being a heavy sleeper, but there was only so long before the smell of food—or the suspicious lack of noise—would wake him up.
“Alright, team,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Positions, everyone! Leo, Arthur, get the balloons! Lily, bring me the presents, and don’t forget the one you made. Nora, sweetheart, are you finished?”
Nora beamed up at you. “All done, Mummy!”
You took one look at the drawing and smiled. It was perfect and you just knew George would love it.
The family scrambled to their places. The kitchen was now a scene of controlled excitement, the cake sitting proudly in the center of the table, presents neatly stacked beside it, and a banner hanging slightly crookedly above—hand-painted with the words: “Happy Birthday, Daddy!” Paint hand prints across the banner.
And just as they took their places, they heard footsteps creaking down the stairs.
George barely had time to blink before a barrage of confetti exploded in his face, courtesy of Leo and Arthur, followed by an enthusiastic, ear-splitting chorus of:
George, eyes still adjusting to the explosion of colors and noise, grinned as he took in the scene before him—you, his beautiful wife standing in the middle of it all, smiling at him with that look of amused exasperation you always wore when dealing with little troublemakers.
“Well, if this isn’t the best way to wake up,” he said, laughing as Nora toddled over and proudly thrust her drawing into his hands.
“’S you, Daddy!” she announced.
George studied the crayon masterpiece, his heart swelling. “Blimey, you got my good side and everything.”
As he knelt down to pull all four of his children into a big, warm hug, you came up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist.
“Happy birthday, love,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
George sighed contentedly, looking around at his family—his home, his world, his greatest gift of all.
“Best birthday ever,” he murmured, gaze softening you let your fingers run through George's hair.
"Just you me and the kids. Fred said he'll watch the shop."
areudirty
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
