The Rookwood wasn’t so used to having strange women in his bed (not that Mai was strange) that it was completely natural for him to be laid there with her, his daughter between them. That said, he wasn’t entirely used to having a daughter, either, but the point was that he didn’t lose the significance of the fact that Mairen was there beside him and what a strange sight it must have made. He wondered, though, whether in the grand scheme of things and in light of the strange upbringing of his daughter thus far, whether this was strange at all or just one of those things. Probably just that. Esme even looked relaxed.
Mairen’s answer to his question served to tug Theodore from his thoughts and he looked over to her, a smiling creeping over his lips. “That’s no answer. Which means I get Queen on, we’re getting smoothies and scrambled egg and salmon muffins. Done.” He grinned, licking his lips at the thought and then looked down at Esme who vocalised her rejection of that option. “Alright, missus,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll put some bacon in yours. Just because you don’t have impeccable taste yet.” Esme merely poked her tongue out at him in response.
Theodore chuckled, leaning down to pepper kisses onto her cheeks, and he looked up from the giggling little girl as Mairen questioned their plans for Christmas. Esme scrambled into life and sat on her knees, revelling briefly in how tall she was in comparison to the grown-ups before voicing their plans. “We’re going to my uncle’s!” She declared happily, looking to hr father for confirmation. He nodded to her, pulling her back down into her arms for a cuddle, causing another eruption of giggles.
“We’re having a bit of a big do,” he explained. “All in my aunt’s house. It’s my cousin, really. Esme’s godfather, though, so he’s more of an uncle to her, eh sweetpea?” Esme concurred and wriggled out of her dad’s embrace, rolling over towards Mai, into whose arms she wormed herself, causing Theodore to chuckle at her. “You’re welcome to come with us, actually,” he offered, meeting Mai’s gaze. “If you want,” he amended quickly. “You might have something on but if not, I’d love it if you did want to come. The plan was to spend the morning here with whatever Santa’s brought this little one and then go over there once we’re dressed and stuff to go and see what he’s left at my aunt’s.”
“Why’s Santa leaving things there?” Esme asked, pouting out from behind her hair.
“Because, little one,” Theodore replied, leaning down to nudge his nose against hers and then pop a kiss to her forehead, “auntie Bridget’s house is bigger than mine so more things can fit.” Her eyes lit up at that and Theodore couldn’t help but laugh, pulling back up so his eyes were level with Mai’s. “Wanna take the wriggle monster downstairs today?” He suggested, moving to sit up.
Theodore got out of bed, feeling a little bit unsteady for the first few steps he took but once he got across the room to the side table and chair to fetch a loose t-shirt he’d discarded a few days ago, he felt a bit stronger. Slipping it over his head, Theodore took a moment to stretch before opening the door up properly. He looked back at his girls and stalled for a second, wondering whether or not it was alright, before deciding that in the privacy of his own thoughts it was a reasonable thing.
“Come on,” he exclaimed. “After all that you don’t want to get up now? Breakfast!”
So, it was downstairs and then downstairs again into the living area. He picked up his wand from where he’d errantly left it the night before and used it to whisk glasses off of the coffee table into the sink and pack up work into neat piles on the dining room table. Then Theodore turned on the taps and flicked some magic at the glasses, letting them sort themselves out as he checked on the eggs in the fridge and took a look at how much milk he had left. There would need to be a trip to the shops today, he decided – at least for breakfast tomorrow morning. Nothing would be open if he left it too late.
So, in the midst of the activity of the sink, Theodore started breakfast, whisking up eggs before flicking on the television so that when Mai and Esme came down, they’d have something to settle on the navy sofa and watch. Then it was a case of pouring the mixture into a frying pan alongside another with bacon in it and he took out the salmon to get it up to warm temperature, allowed a little bit of time to open the sour cream and cut up some chives before giving his full attention to the perfecting of his eggs. That, really, didn’t take long at all and after whacking up the oven so he could briefly toast the breakfast rolls he turned it off and everything came together at once. Butter on both sides of each bit of bread, eggs, salmon (or bacon), lid on top and a dollop of sour cream with chives for him and Mairen. Done.
“Right, my beautiful ladies,” he called out, wandering over with one plate balanced on his forearm, the other two in his hands. “Sit up little one,” he encouraged his daughter and she wearily did as she was told, gratefully receiving her plate with her food, around which a drizzle of tomato sauce, chef style, had been put much to her ire as she preferred it in with everything else and the look on her face made Theodore laugh. “Oh c’mon, it would be right if I didn’t wind you up,” he pointed out, sitting down at the foot of the sofa before them, handing up Mairen’s plate. “Gimme a bit of bacon, babe,” he held out his hand and Esme leaned forward to hand him a bit. “Thank you, honey.” He smiled at her and took a bite, turning his attention back to the telly for whatever it was that was going on.
This would be a rest period before Theodore had to resume wrapping presents and before Mai got roped into baking with Esme. It was nice, he decided. Domestic. He liked it.