Chapter Text
Link paced back and forth, and Rhett peered over his book watching. His husband always seemed nervous, and as he watched Link return to the counter he’d been standing at minutes before, only to restack the batteries he’d just stacked, Rhett tried to suppress a smile. He turned his eyes back to his book, re-reading the sentence Link’s movements had distracted him from.
“Are you sure the board is on her window tight enough?” Link asked. Rhett peeked up over the top of his book and licked his thumb to turn the page. He still hadn’t adjusted to being able to easily see Link in the kitchen from his high-backed chair, but they’d recently rearranged the furniture to meet the needs of their growing toddler, and from here, he had a better view of both rooms.
“For the thirty-fourth time, yes, I’m certain. I used extra screws to make sure.” Rhett gave a warm look to Link. “Sit down. Worrying won’t stop a hurricane.” After the last time they’d gotten ready for a hurricane, Rhett had left Link home to prepare. It resulted in a lot of blood, a lot of bandages, and one sore leg during the storm when Link had dropped the board, letting it drag down his leg and tear into the skin painfully. This time, Rhett didn’t take any chances. He had the bigger wingspan and was better able to maneuver the board, so he sent Link to the store with Charlie to get the supplies… water, non-perishable food, sandbags. Anything they didn’t get at the hardware store beforehand.
Rhett had asked his friend Danny for help, offering to board up the restaurant Danny worked at and had recently purchased in exchange. The house was secure. Rhett was positive her window would be fine.
“What if it breaks while she’s sleeping?” Link asked, pacing back over and sitting on the couch.
“Link, I boarded it outside and inside.” His tone was patient, though, in spite of Link asking again and again. He understood Link’s worries and fears and he didn’t want Link to feel like he was overreacting like this, even if he was. After all, Charlie was their first child, likely the only one they’d ever have, so Link tended to be slightly overprotective. He could be fun, and was more likely than Rhett to sit on the floor and play with her, stacking her blocks and singing songs. But Rhett was looser and more fun overall, the type to read her a book one evening and the next day, put on her life jacket and toss her into the bay. She’d laugh and giggle at that, waiting for him to dive in after her and scoop her up. They were both fun, engaged parents, but they each went about that fun a little differently.
Their parenting skills were reflected in the sort of worries they had for her, too. Rhett worried about things like if they would somehow be unable to provide for her, despite Link’s assurances that it was silly and they had plenty of money now. He worried she’d be bullied for having two dads once she was old enough for school. And mostly, he worried that living on an island, where half of the population was seasonal, would make it hard for her to make lasting friendships. As much as he loved the island, he often wondered if they should move back to North Carolina after all.
Link tended to focus on the little worries of the moment. What if Charlie hit her head on the table? The nearest hospital was on the mainland. He worried her life jacket might come loose and she’d forget everything she learned in her baby swim lessons. And today, he worried about if her window would break during the storm.
Rhett wasn’t surprised or bothered by Link fretting about the window. Instead, he closed his book and walked over to Link, pulling him down to the floor to sit with Charlie as he joined them both. “How about she sleeps in our room during the storm?” He’d have suggested anything that might make Link feel better at this point. The storm was going to hit overnight, it seemed, and Charlie didn’t fully know what was happening, but she could still see the worry painted on her father’s face.
“I think that would help,” Link agreed. “You want to do that, Charlie? Want to sleep in our room tonight?”
“Okay, daddy,” she said, turning back to the blocks she’d been playing with. Lately, she attempted to build bridges with her blocks, and Link was positive she was a budding engineer or something. “What’s happening?”
“There’s going to be a storm tonight,” he said. “But we’ve got lots of flashlights to make sure we’ll be able to see if the lights go out.”
He was mostly thankful they’d kept the other electronics limited. They still didn’t own a television, preferring books to pass the time, and even though Link had purchased a computer at his publisher’s request, it stayed in the attic above their bedrooms, in his office, which was locked and out of Charlie’s way. Rhett and Link had gone to the pub a few nights before, leaving Charlie with a sitter, for a much-needed date. Some of the guys had been talking about dreading the thought of a hurricane hitting, knowing they weren’t ready to listen to the whines from their children about not having their tablets or favorite shows. For now, though, Charlie was oblivious to all of it. Link was certain they’d have arguments when she got into school about what the other kids had at home, but for now, they didn’t worry about it at all.
If she needed any entertainment, Rhett reminded her there was a beach across the street, a bay in the backyard, museums on the island, and tons of children’s books on the lowest shelf, and he’d be happy to help her with any of those things.
But for now, they had to consider the storm about to hit and the fact that none of those things, aside from the books, were even options. For now, they were boarded into the house safely, playing the waiting game for it to hit and eventually blow over. And the thought of no lights was a new concept to Charlie, since they’d safely avoided hurricanes in the year and a half they’d been home from North Carolina.
“No lights?” she asked.
“No lights, Charlie,” Rhett said. He smoothed her blonde hair with his hand. “It’s alright. It’ll be a good time for us to tell spooooky stories,” he told her, exaggerating the word and affecting a creepy voice. She giggled. If Charlie was a fan of anything, it was Rhett’s scary stories that he’d read to her or tell her from memory. Sometimes, Link would stress that they would give her nightmares or were a little too old for her, but Rhett paid him little mind and sat her on his lap, reading them anyway while Link shook his head and returned to his own book. Despite living with Rhett for nearly four years, he still hadn’t read all of the books on Rhett’s shelves.
“No lights… no dinner?” Charlie asked.
“We’ll still have dinner,” Link said, placing a block on top of the one she’d put down. “Maybe we can use candles and flashlights for a special dinner. And tonight there will still be lights. The storm isn’t here yet, remember?”
The storm stayed away, too, well after Charlie had finished her macaroni and well after they’d told more bedtime stories than they usually allowed. They tucked her into the bed between them that night, her and her favorite stuffed animal, a small squirrel. Rhett toyed with the idea of creating a small place on the floor for her to sleep, soft blankets and pillows to keep her nice and warm, but Link protested, worried that if the lights went out, they’d trip over her in the middle of the night. At his request, she was in their shared bed.
“Only for tonight,” Rhett reminded her before she fell asleep. The last thing they needed, he thought, was to make any sort of habit of this. He was proud of the fact that they’d managed to get her to sleep in her bed most of her life since she’d joined their family, or rather, since Link had gone back to North Carolina for her and eventually brought Rhett to join him. But Rhett thought Charlie sleeping in her own room wasn’t just convenient. It was a necessity. He and Link loved being fathers more than anything, but the quiet peace at the end of the day, the alone time they shared, it was an essential part of their daily routine.
After all, they couldn’t exactly make another child together, and weren’t entirely positive they wanted any more than Charlie, but they could certainly practice in their own room. Tonight, though, Charlie was there, so once she fell asleep, Rhett closed his book and gave Link a quick kiss, then kissed Charlie’s forehead.
It was amazing how much she looked like both of them. If they could have somehow created a biological child that was both of theirs, Charlie would be what that child would look like. But somehow, a child who had neither of their genes looked like a perfect fit anyway. Rhett credited Link’s ex, Samantha, looking incredibly similar to Rhett himself, and Samantha for being with a man who looked strikingly similar to Link. She certainly had a type. But Charlie was perfect and beautiful. She had the blondish hair Rhett had, soft waves to it, the same reddish tint by nature. And Link’s bold, blue eyes with the long eyelashes, she had those, too. Link’s soft lips that curled up into the most mischievous grin seemed perfectly placed on her face as if by design, and Rhett’s small chin, which he hid behind a thick beard from embarrassment, perfectly suited her tiny face. She was theirs, no doubt about it.
Link closed his eyes and smiled to himself about how lucky he’d gotten. Things could have been so much worse, given all of the circumstances. Heck, he could have not even been alive at this point. But he wasn’t just alive. He was given an ideal life. Falling asleep to that was easy. Staying asleep once the storm hit, not so much.