open fire [quinn]

Whenever Alex returned to Dublin for a visit he started to feel like he should move back. There was less of a wizarding presence than in London, to be sure, and a measure less convenience, but he felt at home here in some way that bothered him by how much it mattered. He felt better around his family. This was the life he thought of when he tried to remember the last time he felt purposeful, like he was doing things right. Sometimes it seemed like the more time he spent alone in a city that wasn’t his, the more he unraveled. More likely it was just an inevitable part of growing up. But it wouldn’t hurt to test alternative theories, he thought.

Christmas Eve was a much more restrained affair than Christmas Day, at least as much as anything could be restrained in their house. They wouldn’t be visiting the extended family until tomorrow. Tonight they’d had dinner and turned on the radio, and then lay around the living room soaking in the holiday. After losing to Carla at chess for a second time, Alex opted out of another rematch. He glanced toward where Quinn was sitting alone with a magazine and wandered over to the kitchen instead.

The family still seemed unused to Quinn being extremely pregnant. Especially the younger ones, who’d been absent for the reveal and hadn’t seen her since the summer. Not that any one of them was unfamiliar with pregnancy, of course, but it was somehow different when it was your sister. As he started the teakettle heating again, Alex found a bag of Quinn’s favorite tea that thankfully his parents still kept. He had spent so much time one-on-one with his sister lately that he felt sort of bad leaving her be for too long, felt like he owed her something, especially when he wasn’t sure if she was feeling as comfortable as he was this year.

Alex carefully carried her teacup and saucer back to the living room, setting them gently down on the coffee table as he sat beside Quinn. “You excited for tomorrow?” he asked her in a low voice. “Or dreading it? I could see things go either way.”

@Quinn Regan

Quinn had been sitting in the same spot on the sofa for nearly two hours, save the three trips she had made to the toilet. It’s not that this particular issue of Quidditch Quarterly (the Special Edition Pre-Season issue) warranted two hours of her life to read -- no issue had been worth that since the one with her face on the cover -- but she had been stuck on one line, just four words, reading it over and over again, as if by some miracle it would change from one read to the next: Falcons: Regan (S) - Return Unknown.

She had scoffed the first time she read it. The only thing barring her from flying was her pregnancy, so naturally, her return date would nearly (if not exactly) coincide with her due date. Of course, she had to argue this point with nearly everyone and she was tired of dealing with it. Rather uncharacteristically, she was brooding in silence instead.

Really, she ought to be enjoying the fact that she could spend the holidays with her family at all, considering last year’s rather solemn Christmas. The controlled commotion of the house was usually her favorite background noise, but it was hard to be overly happy about too many things. Oliver wouldn’t be in Dublin for Christmas, saving his debut to the Regans at large for New Year’s Eve. She’d be staying over until then, half hoping that she might go ahead and give birth a few weeks early to have a properly Irish child. She knew that was a silly thought, of course, but she had half a mind that the reason Oliver wanted to spend his next few free days in Glasgow was to do exactly the same thing in favor of a properly Scottish child.

She chanced a glance over at her brother as he abandoned his chess game, watching him leave the room and willing him to come back instead of leaving her. Carla stood as well, but Quinn shot her a look that clearly said ‘No’ before she had the chance to ask if she’d like to play, and she resettled across the room with their mother. She didn’t have too much more opportunity to stew; Alex was back and Quinn scooted over to sit just a bit closer to him, her magazine finally discarded for something actually interesting. She offered him a thankful smile for the tea, letting it cool for a minute as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Quinn considered the question for a second before answering with a “Excited, I think,” in an equally low voice. She was always excited for family, even more excited to be doted upon, even more than normal thanks to the new Regan she was growing. But there was bound to be the inevitable discussion about Ireland being knocked out of the World Cup and Quinn was sure she was now far too big to hide from it. “Thankfully I have a good excuse in case I change my mind,” she rested her hands on the top of her rounded planet of a belly.

“I’d be able to get you out of things, too, seeing as you’ll be godfather,” she added. They hadn’t actually discussed this yet, but she assumed that he assumed that he was.  She shrugged as she sat up and took a sip of her tea, resting the saucer atop her stomach.

“Good!” said Alex in mild surprise. Not that he’d expected her not to enjoy a holiday, but if it had been him in her situation he wouldn’t want to be among anyone who would feel they were owed information about it. Even though his year had had less visible results than hers he’d still had to carefully dodge several questions he’d been asked since coming home. He rested his cheek against her head on his shoulder, relaxing, but then she added a faux-casual admission.

Alex paused. He’d definitely felt some unwarranted possessiveness over Quinn’s kid, but he hadn’t thought about it so far in official terms. It seemed obvious now that she was saying it—who else was there, really? Unless Oliver had any better brothers, which Alex would be surprised by if he did. Despite how natural it seemed, though, he felt his heart flutter a little. He still felt touched to have been chosen.

“As far as I’m aware, godfather doesn’t mean much unless you’re both dead,” said Alex lightly after a few seconds. “Not that I won’t throw the title around to seem more important, of course, but it’s not going to get me out of any conversations.” He chuckled softly. “If Aunt Kathleen tries to get me to have dinner with her friend’s weird son again, though, it might be worth a try.” With a last teasing grimace, he let the humor leave his voice. “Thanks, though,” he said. “I’ll do my best, yeah? Always do.”

He looked around the room at the rest of them, and the twinkling Christmas tree. The holiday season had always brought with it a sense of finality, like the end of things, and while sometimes it was melancholy, this year Alex felt ready to be renewed. “Everything’ll be different soon, won’t it?” he said. Quinn would be a mum, at least, and that was enough to push Alex’s life out of its orbit. The unknown was almost exciting right now. He was exhausted. “Good riddance to 2001,” he said, and wished he had  a drink of his own to lift for dramatic effect. “Pretty rubbish year all round, if I may say so.”

He looked at Quinn and it occurred to him that maybe she didn’t consider her situation entirely bad. She’d won the league championships, of course, even if they’d been eliminated from the World Cup. But things like “unplanned pregnancy” generally registered as automatic negatives to Alex. To Quinn, of course, her pregnancy was a source of irritation from the physical to the professional, but the mere fact that she’d been willing to go along with it meant she wasn’t averse to the idea of motherhood. Not to mention she’d found somebody who stuck with her through it. As much as he’d been looking forward to trashing Oliver when they split, he had to admit the man had exceeded expectations. (Alex would withhold an Outstanding grade until he’d seen Oliver deal with a newborn baby.)

“Or, y’know,” he said, vaguely. “Whatever.”

Quinn watched him over the rim of her teacup, doing her best not to smile too wide while sipping, not keen to be making a mess everywhere. She had been fully prepared to bully him into it, to convince him that it was for his own good in case he tried to come up with some rubbish reason he was ill suited for the job. She shrugged again before leaning back, balancing her cup and saucer on her bump so she didn’t have to bother with trying to reach the table. “I’d honestly be offended if you didn’t use her to get out of things.” She had long since been referring to the baby as a girl, convinced (with some very compelling familial evidence to back her up) that it was a girl, though the closer her pregnancy drew to an end, the more she was worried that she was wrong. She didn’t want to start off her son’s life with being disappointed, if that’s what it came to.

But she smiled, not dwelling on all those other ‘feelings’ things now, much more interested in Alex’s opinion about everything. “Only the best for the best.” She was almost disappointed that she might have to demote Alex in his rankings of favorite family member to make room for her child. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind sharing a tie for first place if she couldn’t bring herself to put him second.

She followed Alex’s gaze around the room, skipping over the siblings that weren’t paying them any attention. She didn’t answer his first question, knowing that there was no way he could be wrong. Everything was already different, and things were bound to keep changing. Of course, everything in the future would be no one else’s fault but her own: the baby, a life with Oliver, an inevitable decrease in time spent with her family. For the first time there were details about her life she wasn’t divulging to Alex, not because she was worried about what he would think, but because she actually somewhat cared about her and Oliver’s privacy.

“Yeah,” she agreed automatically, avoiding her brother’s eye. It had been a very strange year for them, first starting it without each other, only to be reunited for Alex’s extended stay at St. Mungo’s, spending the next few months tiptoeing around each and every subject to make sure she didn’t land on something sensitive. Oliver and the pregnancy were the first things to really bring any sense of normality to their relationship, even though it was far from normal for them. At least, she had constantly reassured herself, she had given Alex something to focus on that wasn’t work. She was helping, she was sure of it.

She refocused her gaze on him as he did the same for her and she offered him an apologetic smile, figuring the were thinking along the same lines. “Whatever,” she agreed, flicking her gaze back to their family. “I’m bored,” she said a bit louder than necessary, handing her tea off to Alex so she could attempt to hoist herself up, quickly changing her mind that she required Alex’s attention more than the tea did. She sighed loudly, hoping that was enough to get Alex to help her.

Once she was finally standing, Quinn grabbed Alex’s hand and waddled out of the living room, her other hand on her lower back, the cliche representation of a severely pregnant woman. “I think there’s still a bottle of firewhisky in my room,” she said more quietly once they were clear of the family. He should know the drill by now, drinking and making her laugh about something stupid they had done when younger while she sat there and pretended she was joining him. She dropped Alex’s hand as they passed a tray of cookies, grabbing a handful before hoisting herself up again, this time up the stairs.

“Oh, her?” It had taken Alex a couple moments to figure out what Quinn was referring to, but he didn’t think he’d been too obvious about it. “Of course,” he said. “Babies take a lot of energy. And, no offense, but you’ll need a lot of help.” He nodded gravely with wide eyes, mockingly serious. “I might not have time to go to a single administrative meeting.” Letting his face split into a cheeky grin, he leaned sideways against the cushions. “Thanks,” he replied. “I don’t know, though, I might hesitate to call her the best until she can hold a conversation.” He still didn’t have much patience for babies, truth be told, no matter who was having them. “I mean, come on now. You haven’t even met the kid and you already love it more than anyone.”

Alex paused. He’d said it to highlight the absurdity, but it didn’t seem half as funny when he was looking at Quinn’s face. “Is that what it’s really like?” he asked, a little more seriously. “I always thought it was all…sentimental rubbish, y’know, the sort of things they say about maternal instincts. Exaggerations, like.” He glanced down at Quinn’s stomach and then awkwardly aside, chuckling with a slightly smaller smile than before. “Godfather, maybe, but I’m probably not the one to talk to about the rest of it.”

He looked back as Quinn pushed her teacup into his hands. “What, going to bed?” he asked. She gave him a look, though, that made it clear that his presence was required wherever she was going. Alex sent the dishes back to the kitchen with a wave of his wand and rose with her, quickly extending a hand when a second, angrier look made it clear that she expected help.

“What are we going off in secret for?” he asked, as the cheerful Christmas carol on the living room radio got softer. Quinn made reference to liquor upstairs.  “Oh,” said Alex. He wasn’t sure what of that was to her benefit, exactly. She just wanted them to be alone, he figured—but maybe she just liked him better drunk. A fair assessment, these days.  “Well, hopefully nobody cleans in there anymore,” he said. “Or you hid it well enough.” They reached the landing and he helped Quinn shuffle  along to her old bedroom. Alex opened the door for her and lit the lamp. “Where am I supposed to look?”

He stepped around the bed and opened the closet door. “I don’t know how you can do this, by the way,” he said. “If it were me, the most I’d let anyone drink in front of me would be pumpkin juice.” He pushed aside a stack of sweaters on a shelf to look behind them. “Thankfully, it’ll never be me.” And he was thoroughly grateful for it. Everything he’d ever heard about being a woman sounded dreadfully miserable, but mostly the entire reproductive system. One would think they’d at least be allowed a few drinks to take the edge off of pregnancy.

“Well,” Quinn started, her grin matching Alex’s, “You can still consider me the best.” She assumed she didn’t need to explain that she would be completely devastated if he liked her child more than he liked her. She shrugged at his next question. “Yeah, like,” she paused, unsure of her next words. It made sense to her when she thought about it, and her mother just seemed to know whenever the subject came up. “I dunno.” She smoothed her sweater down over her stomach as he looked at it. Embracing the whole ‘unplanned pregnancy’ thing had been much easier than she had anticipated. “Guess I won’t be coming to you for parenting advice,” she finished with a smile. She would have to be desperate to go to anyone for advice, really.

They made it upstairs without too much incident, though Quinn regretted not grabbing a couple more cookies before making the trip. “I think we’ll be okay.” Worst case scenario, she knew where Izzy kept hers. She took a seat on the bed and pushed herself back, leaning back against the pillows. “I guess I just like… really like you, or something,” she offered. Honestly, she did get upset whenever someone enjoyed themselves without her, but she made an exception for Alex. Call it another one of her sentimental shortcomings. She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “But if you want pumpkin juice, feel free.”

“Thankfully,” she replied with a smirk, leaning forward as far as she could to rearrange the pillows behind her. “Pity the Regan that has to follow me to motherhood. What a high standard they’ll be held to.” She shrugged, completely serious, as she leaned back into her more-comfortable-than-before pile of pillows. Never mind that she was simply adding one more to a sea of Regans whose mothers no doubt thought they were the exceptional choice. “Not that Carla will need to worry about that anytime soon if she keeps dressing like that.” She had worn a baggy sweater this evening that featured a reindeer, complete with magicked-to-twinkle red nose, and without the slightest hint of irony.

“Maybe,” she continued, “I can give her my maternity clothes when I’m done. Those would fit her, wouldn’t they?” It wasn’t that Carla was large, but Quinn was, by far, the smallest family member. Even Niall was taller than her now. “I guess I should hang on to some, you know, just in case, but even the uglier stuff that I could part with would help her out.” She hadn’t told Alex yet that the subject of more children had come up, nor that she wasn’t opposed to the idea at all.

Her eyes darted around the room, landing on a very small shelf of books along the far wall. “It’s in the Quidditch through the Ages,” she pointed out, finally at a lull in her conversation about herself. It was just a flask, but she had refilled it on a previous non-pregnant visit. “I hollowed it out -- it’s one of the bad editions.” He should know what she meant: it was an earlier edition that didn’t include Quinn.

“Maybe not,” said Alex. Usually he was more than willing to offer advice. This time, though, he was glad Quinn had other places to turn if she needed. He could understand children well enough, and he could shoulder responsibility well enough, and parenting should have been simply a combination of the two but felt somehow far more uncertain. There were people all over to whom it was something natural. Alex hadn’t ever given that much thought but it mystified him now. Fatherhood had always been oddly absent from his future plans and fantasies, considering the size of his family and his devotion to blood—though maybe that was just it. He’d never felt the need to start a new family with anyone. His own was all he needed. And they didn’t belong to him only.

“Guess you’re betting you won’t die anytime soon,” he said, chuckling weakly. “Godfather’s all right for the fun uncle until he’s got to take care of a kid.” Alex had no idea why he was saying this. If Quinn decided he was right and shifted the title off to somebody else he’d be devastated. He deserved it, even if he didn’t. Uncomfortably, he clenched his jaw. He felt a little out of control, not enough to be really alarming but just enough to make him quietly nervous, to know he was off.

He was grateful for Quinn’s squirreled-away Firewhiskey then.

 “Well, I don’t think I like anyone that much,” he said, emerging from the closet. “Wonder if that means I’ve got a problem.” He laughed more lightly than earlier, catching Quinn’s eye. “Could be I’m just more selfish than you, but somehow I don’t think that’s it.” He found the old book at the end of the shelf and opened it up. “Clever,” said Alex, lifting the bottle out by the neck and inspecting the hollow before stuffing Quidditch Through The Ages back into place. This sort of thing was foreign to him too. He’d never really kept liquor around until he was allowed, or really, expected to.

He tipped his head back and took a swig. “Anyway,” he rasped, “don’t think it’s really your place to tell anyone they don’t dress well” He picked up one of her long hippie cardigans from the back of a chair and tossed it at the bed. “Good to hear you’re keeping just in case in mind though,” he said, pushing the chair aside and leaning back against Quinn’s old desk. “Every kid could use a little brother.”

“Yeah, not dying anytime soon,” she replied with a nod. “That, and Niall was just a little too young for all the responsibility now, so I was out of options.” She knew that Alex knew he was the first choice for godfather, even if she hadn’t given Oliver much say in the matter, but if Alex didn’t want to accept it graciously she wasn’t about to waste her efforts convincing him. “I think mostly it’s a great excuse for you to be at my house all the time. Godfather duty and all that.” Not that he needed an excuse to spend time with Quinn, or anything, but she didn’t mind creating one for him.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “No one?” She assumed he was excluding her from that statement, but she was overly pregnant and much more sensitive to being disliked than usual. But she perked back up when he casually called her selfish backhandedly. That was more like it.

She shrugged like her hollowed-out book was no big deal, but her smirk probably gave away just how proud of the idea she was. They’d been allowed wine at fourteen whenever they visited their Spanish relatives, and the Irish drinking started properly at sixteen, but the family was big enough that there weren’t many secrets and she was thrilled to have one.

Her mouth dropped open as he criticised her style. “Shove off,” she spat with a laugh as she caught the cardigan tossed her way. “This is cute.” She put it on awkwardly, not wanting to move enough to wear it properly. Nor could she button it, though she certainly attempted to. She stretched the fabric as far as it could go over her stomach as she continued, “We can’t all dress like we’re all going to some weird ‘leather-attire-required’ funeral.”

“You think?” She stopped fiddling with the sweater and looked back to Alex, a serious look on her face. This would probably be the only time she would ask his opinion on the matter -- at least until her next extremely-hormonal feelings-sharing session. “They’re okay.” She shrugged to convince herself to keep tears out of her eyes. “I guess I can do what Mam did and have a second son if my daughter doesn’t really like the first one.” She smirked for a second before moving on. “Not missing any matches next time,” she added with a nod. “And I’ll have to take all of 2006 off, of course.” Take time off of being pregnant, she meant, in favor of Ireland surely advancing to the Quidditch World Cup next time around. “You’ll have lots of godfather experience by then.”

Alex pulled at the hem of his black turtleneck and raised his eyebrows. He’d conceded a red and green plaid scarf to the holiday, but other than that, denial of Quinn’s accuracy was useless. “Well, we’ll see about that when I die,” he said. “I’ll put the dress code information in my will.” Before he could veer into anything more morbid, he took another drink.

He licked his lip and smiled at Quinn. “Might be hard to tell,” he said. “If she’s shutting him in cabinets it could just be out of love.” A number of times in their early childhood Quinn had tried to lock him under the sink or someplace when he annoyed her, though usually someone had a close enough eye on them that she’d rarely succeeded for more than a couple minutes. Remembering this gave Alex another thought. “You going to hire a nanny, do you think?” It was the parenting model they were familiar with, after all. Quinn was already showing some unprecedented maternal instincts, but Alex was still unsure how willing she would be to teach her child sums and letters, especially during the Quidditch season.

“Wonder what Nanny Elsie’s up to these days,” he mused. “She was my favorite one.” Favorite, when referring to their childhood caretakers, was decided mostly by which was the most fun to be awful to. Alex had been rather better at sucking up than Quinn had, though, so he imagined his memories were slightly fonder. “Don’t figure you want to raise kids as bratty as we were, though,” he chuckled. “Though someone’s got to, I guess, or Mam won’t get the satisfaction of seeing one of us go through it.”

“You do that,” Quinn acquiesced with a nod, adding with a shrug, “But I’ll make sure that’ll never happen.” She meant it more about the dress code, but there was that lingering thing in the air like she would never let the other option happen either. She looked away as he took a drink; now would be the perfect time to join him. Without thinking, she rested her hands on her stomach, ticking away the days in her head until this wouldn’t be an issue anymore. She didn’t come up with an actual number, but she knew it was too many.

Quinn smiled sweetly, as if there could be any other reason she would have locked him in a cabinet. “Well hopefully he won’t give her any reason to do so, love or not.” She smirked, replaying some of her more successful attempts at some Alex-free moments. She was pleased now, of course, that she had never actually succeeded, but at the time, it was debatable whether or not love had factored into her decisions at all. “Merlin, yes.” Quinn answered the next question almost too quickly, and she reminded herself that she needed to sound at least a little bit downtrodden at the thought of someone else taking care of her child.

“I mean, I don’t plan to miss the entire season, you know, but I can’t very well have you babysitting and watching my match at the same time, so,” she shrugged, knowing that Alex didn’t need the explanation but giving him one anyway. “Nanny Elsie?” Quinn questioned, answering with a shrug. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if Nanny Elsie was still nannying somewhere; she had been the longest surviving nanny of the Regan household anyway, so she was clearly suited for the job. Of course, Quinn wasn’t too fond of any of their nannies, but that only served to make her appreciate her mother more. She wouldn’t be too upset if that’s what happened to her children, too.

“You should ask her to tea,” she continued. “I bet she’d love that,” she finished with a snicker. He was always sucking up to the nannies, but Quinn knew better than to value their opinion too highly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Quinn rolled her eyes at the mention of bratty children, not agreeing with that accusation. “But if it has to be someone, let it be Carla.” She raised an invisible glass to toast to her curse on her older sister.

Quinn sat up, glancing around her room for a second before realizing she had left her wand downstairs, and she needed it to fetch herself some more cookies without much effort. Thankfully, there was another option that required even less effort -- on her part, at least. “Can we get some more cookies up here?” She asked her question as she leaned back into the pillows, patting the space beside her, inviting her brother to join her instead of continually lurking in the corner.

Alex chuckled. It had been a silly question. “You mean you don’t want me to take it to the match?” he asked, and then paused. “Her, I mean.” He hoped for Quinn’s sake that she indeed was carrying a daughter. She’d hurt her own feelings quite a bit if she turned out to be wrong. He himself had rather liked the thought of a nephew, not that it would really matter. But he’d liked it. Maybe a little brother would come along. He’d see more eye to eye with that kid anyway.

“Unless good old Nanny’s up for a night at the club I don’t think I’ll bother,” he said after a second, having forgotten as he laughed to come up with an actual answer. He snorted softly. “Doesn’t matter whether she likes me anymore.” Alex had no doubt he could be likable to the seventysomething woman who’d read him bedtime tales—and to be honest he wouldn’t mind someone fawning over how handsome and accomplished he’d grown. But there was tomorrow for that, with his actual family. He was’t going to go out of his way any more for praise from inconsequential people. It felt like an odd way for him to come to this resolution. He sought attention most frequently from strange men, after all. But the pointlessness was more glaring when there was nothing to do with sex. Put the situation in perspective.

Maybe he ought to give that up too.

Alex sighed through a smile and drew his wand to summon more snacks. “I can’t wait until I haven’t got to do everything.” Moving over to sit on the side of the bed Quinn was indicating to him, he set the Firewhiskey aside on the nightstand but left it open. He wasn’t committed to being done for the night yet. “It’s too cold in my room,” he said, as if he couldn’t have just fixed it with a charm in a second if he cared. “Maybe I should just sleep here. Getting time for that, right?” A handful of cookies bounced onto the bedspread. “Once we’ve finished these, anyway.” He picked up a frosted sugar tree and broke off the stump. “Think Claire and Niall still wake up around four?”

Alex cut her off just as she was about to correct his use of the word ‘it’. She smiled as he corrected himself, just short of rolling her eyes, and it took her a couple seconds to remember that a question had been asked in the first place. “Her first outings can’t be with someone else. I can’t let you take credit for all the hard work I’m doing.” She pointed at her stomach, as if someone could be able to doubt who such a perfect child really belonged to.

Quinn threw her hands up with a laugh as she shrugged. “Nanny’s wild, I’m sure.” She shrugged again and cooed, “As if she couldn’t like you.” She would have pinched his cheek if he was closer or if she could cross the room with minimal effort. “Don’t know how long you could make it before she tells you you need a haircut. Or that you look pale.” She snorted at the memory; Nanny Elsie would tell Alex he looked pale, even though he naturally had a darker complexion than Quinn -- she knew it bothered the older Regan that she and her brother didn’t look exactly the same and she never seemed to miss the opportunity to remind her. Of course, Quinn was probably exaggerating her memories now in her own favor, but that was beside the point.

“Oh please, you love that I’m giving you attention.” Quinn rolled her eyes, wary somewhere in the back of her mind that she might be crossing a line, but they were so close to being back to normal that she didn’t give it a second thought. She schooched over and leaned farther back into the pillows, getting properly comfortable against her brother’s side. “I wouldn’t want you to freeze,” she agreed with a nod, more than happy that he had suggested the very thing she had been wanting. She hadn’t realized it until just now, but this was her first night alone in quite some time. She hated to admit it, but she was used to sharing a bed.

Plus, Alex probably couldn’t kick her as hard these days. She suppressed a laugh at the thought, happy that Alex wasn’t able to see her smirk, not wanting to explain her train of thought in the moment. Wasting no time, Quinn bit off half a cookie in one go, thankful to have her very long sweater now to wipe her mouth. “If they’re not up at four, I will be.” She shoved the other half of the cookie in her mouth and swallowed before she sighed, well aware that she had already complained to Alex about how many times a night she needed to get up to use the toilet.

She rolled over with some effort and reached for the edge of the blanket, pulling it over her as far as possible. Now that he had mentioned sleeping, she couldn't think of anything but. "Get the lights, would'ya?"