Hi Duchess!! Some Fluffuary fluff for Theresa/Cullen this eve: how about "Borrowing clothes"?
Thanks for this @dadrunkwriting prompt! I adored writing this scene for them:
When Cullen wakes in the middle of the night to an empty bed and silence, he isn’t worried. Rising with a low grunt from the usual aches and pains, he pads across the cool marble floor and down the hall, finding his trousers on the way, but not bothering with a shirt. Moonlight stretches silver shadows across the hall, sliding over his pale skin as he makes his way to the second floor. He finds Theresa in the library, pacing the length of the room. Their infant daughter is cradled in her arm, one chubby cheek nestled against her shoulder, Theresa’s palm flat across her back, patting it lightly. “Is that my shirt?” Cullen asks once he knows Theresa’s sense his presence – he doesn’t want to risk startling her while she’s holding the baby. “I ran out of my own,” she answers wryly. “Ones that weren’t stained with some bodily fluid or other, at least.” “So you’re now adding my clothes to the stained pile?” Cullen wouldn’t mind, normally – in fact, he quite likes the sight of her in one of his shirts and nothing else. But the fact that she’s currently using it as a burping blanket as well as covering is a little annoying, on principle. “Why don’t you use a towel like I do?” “Because I never remember to grab one ahead of time when I’m feeding her. And it’s too hard to stand and walk with her in my arm when she’s feeding.” Cullen gives an understanding hum. With only one hand to maneuver with, getting Ellie into the right angle for nursing is a feat unto itself. Usually, Tess has to use a soft surface to lean on as leverage. “Here,” he offers, holding out his own hands. “I’ll take her.” “I’m perfectly capable of burping my own child, Cullen,” she snaps. A beat passes. Then two. “I’m sorry,” she says on the third. With a weary sigh, she turns and allows Cullen to take Ellie into his arms, and rubs at her eye furiously. “I’m just so tired…” “I know,” he hushes her, bouncing with Ellie propped at his bare shoulder. “It’s alright. You can go back to bed. I’ve got her.” But she doesn’t leave right away. Instead, she leans against him, resting her head on the opposite shoulder, swaying with him as her hair tickles his skin and Ellie coos and burbles between them. “It’s ironic,” she says as a pensive hum. “It used to be our overwrought work ethic keeping us awake at all hours of the night.” “And the nightmares,” Cullen adds blithely. “And now, when there’s nothing more I’d like than to lie down and sleep for a week solid…” Theresa’s hand comes up to cradle their daughter’s head as she looks down on her in quiet wonder. “...this little one refuses to let me.” Ellie lets out a proud burp, quite impressive for one so small. Mercifully, nothing comes up with it, and Tess chuckles. “Of course, she stains all my clothes, but leaves your naked skin completely clean.” She lays a kiss upon her tender brow, and whispers fondly, “Ungrateful child.” Finally, she agrees to go to bed. Cullen watches her go, admiring the sight of her wearing his shirt. It’s so large on her it nearly reaches her knees, and her bare legs peek out from underneath as she makes her way up the stairs. Retreating back into the library, he holds little Ellie aloft and smiles up at her tiny face. Just like her mother, in miniature. “That’s my girl,” he whispers.