fleeftastic

Robbie ficlet. Though Paul and Michael kinda hijacked it.
 
Not sure if this fits canon, I can't remember when the other Fleming-Walker children were acquired ^^;


Somehow Paul always made Michael feel like he had the sun in his tummy, even when his shoulders were tense like coathangers and he'd been cranky for days. The play-group had been Tina’s idea, and it had taken Michael three full weeks of wheedling, reasoning, background checks, stakeouts, and recruiting Bethy’s help to get Paul to even consider it. The clincher had been Michael pointing out that Robbie was still an only child and Paul didn’t want him to be poorly socialized or lonely, now, did he? To which Paul had blinked twice, scowled, and called Michael something unflattering.

The we’re-done-fighting-now sex had been spectacular, however, though the stains on the window had been hard to reach, especially when one's body was still tingly.

"It's not on the groundfloor," Paul groused. "That means there's stairs inside and a longer way to fall from a window and harder to get them out if there's a fire and—"

"And it'll be nice for Robbie to make some friends and for us to get a break and there are safety regulations and I've been in here, I promise, I spoke to everyone and everything," Michael said. He brushed the back of his hand across Paul's shoulder, then tugged one of Robbie's curls. Robbie was two-and-a-half, though everyone thought he was three. Michael blushed himself freckled with pride every time he had to explain that no, Robbie was just that far ahead. His genius child was currently petting I-Am-A-Bunny's fluffy tail.

Paul grumbled on the way off of the bus, he scowled on the way up the steps, and he held Robbie close when a tall brown lady with tidy locks opened the door. She had a two-year-old on her hip and a cow-patterned plate of apple chips balanced against her bosom, the other edge propped on her daughter's overalls. She invited them in with a jerk of her head and a hasty smile.

"Hi nice to meet you," Paul said. He refused to set Robbie down when he wriggled, having caught sight of a room full of bright colours, people to play with, and what looked to be cookies on a distant and unguarded tabletop. He twisted to give Paul a baffled look and pointed at the floor. Paul kissed his forhead and held on.

The playgroup took place in an upstairs classroom at a preschool, during the summer, and the couple running it had three young children and the seemingly magical ability to always have on hand the precise cleaning implement needed for any given child-related mess, including a tiny hand-held vacuum for crumbs or spilled peanuts. Michael watched Paul grow more and more tense—which is to say, sweet and smiley—as they were introduced to the other parents. Robbie seemed enchanted by the furniture that was built on his scale and wanted to go explore; finally Michael drew Paul a little to the side and kissed his temple.

"You don't need to be so wary of everyone anymore. You and the kidlets are safe, and we could use the break once a week. Let him go, okay?"

Paul poked Michael's ribs with a pointy elbow, though he set Robbie down. Robbie gave his dads a slightly confused look and a quick bye! before darting off towards the Leaning Tower of Brightly-Coloured Blocks and the trio of toddlers there. Paul turned narrowed green eyes on his husband. "Is that what you think I've been tense over? Michael we can't afford this! And I know you've probably arranged with Pete or the nice people here or the Easter Bunny for all I know but you know I don't like not being able to pay—"

"Whoa, what?" Michael said. He scrubbed the bridge of his nose and mentally changed tack. "Um. I told you that it's free, we just need to provide snacks for the kids when it's our turn. And. Um. I promised drawing lessons once a month. Er. I guess you were sort've asleep?"

Paul's forehead folded. "When was this?"

"Two days ago?"

Paul smirked. "I can't believe you expect me to have been capable of higher thought after that one. My legs were still wobbly when I woke up!"

Anyone watching Michael would have thought, gee, a blush that fierce has got to hurt. In actuality, though, it was more of a heat-prickle.

"We'll just stay and watch today, alright? Next time we can go do homework or something," Michael said, and looped his arm around Paul's waist. Paul gave him a quick kiss and dragged him over to one of the teeny tables. Paul could fit on one of the chairs, barely; Michael perched on the edge of the table. The kids whirred in eddies about the room, oddly silent in a way hearing-children never were, and over in the corner Robbie was helping a tall-for-her-age brunette braid ribbons into her twin sister's hair.