Auther:constillatedchaos

you were in the kitchen, seven month belly out to the world as you wear just a pair of sweats- that you had commandeered off rooster- and a nursing bra.

you weren't sure if it was the hormones or just the fact that you were craving something sweet, but you had been assembling vanilla buns in a pyrex dish to slip into the oven.

there was the soft beats of the mamma mia: here we go again soundtrack playing in the background as you painted the rolls with egg wash.

"rooster!" you call, small smile on your face as you hear his hurried footsteps.

he comes into view and you swear that it's te hormones making you tear up. he's barrelling in with your son, a three year old tyrant on his hip, holding a little onesie in his arms as his frantic eyes find your face.

"everything all good?" he asks and you nod, watching slightly gap mouthed as he sets your son on the counter top and comes over to you, hands moving to your belly immediately.

"perfect. can you set these in the oven for me?" you flutter your lashes and pout just a little and he huffs- turning to your son with a put on gobsmacked expression.

"your mama wants to stop my heart baby." your son looks up from stealing the left over vanilla sugar.

"mama would never!" it's perfectly on brand for your son to defend you and it makes rooster shake his head and drop his chin to his chest.

"maybe this one'll have my back." he jokes, swiping the pyrex dish off the counter and fitting into the oven with an ease you envy.

just watching him snap straight makes you rub your back longingly.

rooster doesn't miss a thing you do and stands behind you, aware of your son's eyes on you both- even as his face gets more and more covered with sugar.

"relax okay?" he says softly as his arms wrap around your belly and lift it up slowly, feeling you lean back into him with an appreciative moan.

"don't let go," you say and he nods, kissing behind your earlobe. rooster is perfectly content to stand behind you as long as you like, he likes that you get to give your back a rest a couple minutes every few hours.

"can i try daddy?" your son asks and your tears are back. "mama, no tears." his body moves fast across the countertop and his fingers are nimble as they wipe away your tears.

he leaves traces of wet granules along your cheeks as he frowns in a way that makes him look even more like rooster. 

"happy ones baby." you promise and rooster smiles, a fondness that settles sticky in his whole body at his family.

"c'mere baby, we can both help your mama out."