Chapter Text
She’s running on near empty. Her meeting ran late, resulted in calling her nanny and apologizing profusely as she requested her presence at the kid’s school. She ran to the bathroom afterwards, splashed some cold water against her face, wiggling her toes inside the overpriced designer boots to regulate some blood flow again.
The rest of her meeting went by in a blur, and she briefly wonders when the last time she ate was, and if her skipping of breakfast could be the reason she’s feeling so faint right now. Her lunch had consisted of a granola bar and two pieces of gum, after her assistant had been so kind to bring her a latte from the bodega across the street. By the time she finally makes it out of the stuffy room and into her car, her stomach is growling, her face pale in the reflection of her rear-view.
To her biggest regret, she also seems to have taken the wrong route and now finds herself stuck in traffic. She bangs her hand against the steering wheel, willing the tears back in her eyes. She uses the Bluetooth option in her car to call her nanny—again.
“I’m so sorry, I’m trying to rush home to relief you, but this appointment was brutal and now traffic is holding me up.” The words make her feel like the worst mom, and a few years ago, this never would’ve happened. She would’ve stayed home, rejected all projects in favor of just being a stay-at-home mom. She momentarily second guesses if the second wind she’s been blessed with, the encouragement to use all that penned-up energy to chase her passion again, is actually worth it.
“Gwen, please don’t stress about it.” The woman on the other line tells her calmly. “It’s all under control. I left a few hours ago, Blake insisted.”
Her eyes nearly pop out of her skull, her death-grip on the steering wheel only increasing.
“Blake’s there?” She chokes out. “With the kids?”
It’s far from the first time he’s spent time with them, and she knows he’s a natural too, but he’s never babysat with her away for more than an hour, while she quickly ran an errand. He definitely has never been alone with them during their evening-routine.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” Her nanny expresses bashfully, sounding suddenly nervous. “I probably should’ve made sure that was okay.” And she should’ve, but Gwen decides not to tell her that, not to make her feel worse than she already sounds. “I told him I’d gladly stay, but he told me not to be ridiculous.”
At this, Gwen chuckles softly, finally finding some release for all the pent-up tension that coiled her chest before. She can practically hear Blake say the words, shaking her head.
“It’s okay. I trust Blake, you know that.”
“He was more than excited to take over.” Her next response comes. “By the time I was leaving, he had them all calmly on the couch, watching some animated show.”
The image alone brings along a certain warmth that hasn’t been hers in a very long time. Hope is stronger, more vibrant, simmering beneath her skin all the time now. His bond with her children still takes her breath away, stuns her into silence most notoriously. It also instils an inevitable fear into the deepest pits of her stomach, because never have any of them had this; this encompassing support, the unwavering dedication. Not only will it devastate her if she somehow can’t hold onto it, it will break the hearts of her three young boys too.
“I’m sure he did.” Gwen says, finally remembering she still had to answer. “Thanks for letting me know. And thanks for picking them up from school earlier.”
“Anytime.” Her nanny assures. “They’re great kids.”
They are. While the relationship that birthed them was volatile and often unbearable, she can’t believe something this beautiful managed to come from it.
It also reminds her that it wasn’t all bad, that it couldn’t have been. But there was a certain spark, a certain seed of faith that had been stolen from her, leaving her defenceless and feeling forgotten; like a used cardigan underneath someone’s bed.
She’s not used to that feeling being slowly eradicated, erased, by the gentle enforcements and encouragements of a certain cowboy. The same one who has her three boys in a metaphorical trance. Enamoured by his charms, as if there was never any choice.
She undeniably feels a little bit better after the phone call, but her itchiness to get home only grows stronger; part of her desperate to relief Blake from his duties—knowing her kids, they definitely didn’t stay calm—and partially because she can’t wait to come home and see the sight of all her boys together. Blake might not have had kids of his own, but his instincts are stronger than of most men she’s encountered.
It takes another hour and a half before she’s driving through her own gates, her eyes glassy and the bags underneath them anything but graceful. She grabs her bag from the passenger’s seat, wiping a quick finger underneath her eyes—wishing that was all it took to make herself feel a little more refreshed, a bit more presentable.
But this version of her would have to do for tonight, and she knows that.
She nudges the door open, immediately inhaling the lingering scent of the dinner she’s missed, and she feels crazy when tears spring to her eyes again. Kicking off those terrible boots—and yeah they might be pretty, but she’s quite convinced she’ll never wear them again—she silently saunters into the living room, finding the floor adorned with a blanket, toys, and numerous drawings that were started but never finished.
It’s a mess, but a controlled one, and she can tell Blake pulled out all the stops to keep them occupied and satisfied until bedtime. She figures he must still be up with one of them – it is that time—so she bends down to fold the blanket, when she feels two strong arms wrap around her from behind.
“Welcome home.” He murmurs lowly against her ear, his hand covering hers and gently nudging her to let go of the quilt. “Leave it, I’ve got it.”
She turns to meet those goddamn charmingly clear blues, her hands reaching for his forearms as if to keep her steady. And she actually is so tired she could drop.
“Hi cowboy, Are you sure?” She whispers, biting her lip.
“Positive. King asked for you as I was tucking him in.” Blake tells her, tracing his finger down the slope of her face. “If you wanna kiss him goodnight, he’s probably still up.”
The softness in his tone and words makes her melt, the partnership she feels in this moment damn near unrecognizable. It shakes something inside her, making her hold onto him even tighter. Just for a moment though, until she remembers.
“I’ll go see him right now.”
Before she can move out of his grasp though, he tightens his hold and focuses intensely on her face.
“Are you okay, baby?”
There’s no way she’s going upstairs to face her son, with tears streaming down her face, so she nods and wills it all down for later. “Yeah, fine. Just hungry. I haven’t really eaten.”
The words seem to shock Blake, worry flashing over his features.
“Go see him, maybe freshen up, I’ll warm something up for you.”
“Blake, you don’t have to— “
He chuckles, shaking his head disbelievingly, unimpressed by her stubbornness in this moment.
“Just go.”
She bites her lip, refrains from uttering any more protest, knowing she’ll never win—recently realizing that she doesn’t really want to either. It feels good to be cared for, to be looked after, even if the confrontational unfamiliarity hits her square in the gut too.
There is no point in hiding from him either, to pretend like she’s stronger than she is. He’s already seen her, and she knows he’ll be damned if he lets her do everything on her own, despite her unintelligible efforts to do so.
He tells her all the time; they’re a team now. There’s no just her. And while it scared her beyond what she thought possible, it allowed her to settle into another part of herself too. The part she’s prayed and searched for as long as she’s been alive; the satisfied one.
:::
After kissing her oldest son goodnight, running a cleaning wipe across her face, and changing into comfortable sweats and an oversized hoodie that she knows belongs to Blake, she finally finds herself forking through a meal of leftover veggies and some self-made sauce. She knows he’s left the chicken out on purpose and she smiles silently at their differences.
“How’s that?” He asks.
It’s too good, especially since she’s barely eaten anything at all today. But she doesn’t want to bring any more attention to that fact, especially knowing how prickly he gets about it.
“I love it. Where’d you learn to cook like this, cowboy?”
He smiles proudly, sitting himself down next to her. “I’ve got lots of cousins, nephews and nieces too. Works out to know your way around the kitchen.”
She hums, taking another satisfying bite.
“Well, you can certainly tell you’ve got some experience.”
They fall quiet as she continues to eat, starting to feel herself strengthen up just enough to have the conversation Blake slowly starts to weave her in.
“How did today go?”
She nods to no one in particular. “It was alright. The meeting dragged on though.”
He bows his head in sympathy. “I hate those. That why you barely ate at all today?”
She almost lets herself laugh, like it’s an unbelievable thought she had that he could possibly move on from it so easily.
“I was just so stressed out, it’s like I couldn’t really find time, you know?”
“I see.” He waits, his tone indicating he doesn’t deem her excuse as nearly valid, but unlike what she’s used to, he doesn’t pick a fight. Instead, he takes a breath. “Why didn’t you call me when you were running late and needed someone to pick up the kids?”
The breath she exhales then, is weighty and nervous. “Blake…”
“I’m just sayin’, I would’ve dropped it all to be there.”
“I don’t want you to have to drop anything.” She tells him, placing her fork down onto her plate. Looking at him, she hopes to convey all the sincerity she can muster. “It’s my responsibility to be there for them and if I somehow can’t make that happen…”
“…. You call your nanny instead of your boyfriend?”
It’s still weird to hear him refer to himself as her boyfriend. She’s forty-six years old, the last thing she ever thought she’d have at this age, was a boyfriend.
“I don’t want to burden you.” She admits on a whisper.
She watches as Blake’s eyes catch a photo hung on the fridge in all its motherly glory – King’s head tucked into the crook of her shoulder, one arm looped around him and the other flat against Zuma who’s wedged between their bodies, her palm pressed against his jacket like she’s steadying him. It’s a picture from before Apollo was even born.
“You’re a great mom.” He says, the sincerity in his voice bringing her to the brink of tears once more. “A great partner, too. I wish you’d let me be one also.”
The words bring her physical whiplash, the force of them so strong, it leaves her reeling with feelings she doesn’t know what to do with. So, she lays them at his feet, helplessly.
“Please don’t say that. You already are the best partner I could wish for. Me not calling you to pick them up for school doesn’t change that.”
“I want you to know you can count on me when it comes to this part of us too.” He says, and she’s hit again when she realizes he’s talking about parenting. “I don’t want you to feel like you gotta protect me from the responsibility. I want that; I wouldn’t have chosen to be with you if I didn’t also want them to be a part of my life. I always knew it’d be a package deal.”
A tear rolls down her face now, too wired from the stressful day and the emotions that have harboured inside of her ever since learning of Blake’s stepping in.
“Blake, you…” She trails off, never having been too good at talking through the thick of her emotions. Writing had always proved to be an easier form of getting it all out.
This time, Blake pushes a little. “What is it, baby girl?”
She sighs and shudders. “The thing you said earlier, about you wanting me to allow you to be a good partner…. that hurt me.”
This is it. The moment she’s dreaded all along, because she never thought they’d never hurt each other, or that communication would never go a little astray, but talking about it, actively pinpointing it, was a sore spot in her foundation. Her previous relationships not a place where that skill could be nurtured either.
Blake blinks at her, then reaches for her hand and squeezes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She nearly cries at his softness alone; the fact that he doesn’t immediately cower at her admission, doesn’t immediately try to rid himself of all responsibility by calling her sensitive or crazy.
“Did you mean it?”
“We’re good for each other, we’ve let each other be good, I should’ve made that more clear.” He starts, squeezing her hand again. “But I want you to let me be even better. I don’t like watching you spread yourself so thin, when you’ve got me here to help you out now.”
“It scares me how bad I want this to work.” Gwen admits quietly, tucking herself into the warmth of his neck, grateful that he never lets any space sit between their chairs, so she can easily seek out his closeness.
“I know. But you don’t have to be scared of me, Gwen. ‘M not going anywhere, okay?” Blake says firmly, like an oath. He presses one, two kisses into the sea of perfectly sculpted strands framing her face and drops his hand to her lower back, holding her there.
She finds immediate comfort in his grip, despite the hardness of it; the solidity of him.
“I don’t remember being this tired in a long while.” She says, her walls finally crumbling at her feet. For once though, it doesn’t feel like defeat, instead it feels victorious. “When I heard you were taking care of the kids…it felt like the first relaxing breath I took all day.”
She realized it when she kissed Kingston’s forehead as she watched him doze off, sleepily and sated, utterly content by tonight’s events and company. She should’ve realized it in the car when she spoke to her nanny; but the relief remained masked by the exhaustion and frustration of the day.
More than anything, she realizes it isn’t fair to keep the revelation silent; Blake needing the assurance almost as much as she needs his pillar-like strength right now.
“I love you.” He drawls lowly, and she hears the concealed thank you in his love admission.
“Love you too.”
He reluctantly releases her from his grip, giving her hip a little nudge.
“Finish your plate, please. The last thing we need is you exhausted and malnourished.”
She snorts at his dramatics, but she won’t say no to another bite of the goodness he whipped up so selflessly. He doesn’t move an inch, just watches as she fills up her stomach and lets occasional satisfying sounds leave her tired yet contented lips.
Yeah, she could get used to this.
:::
They make love quietly and slowly when they finally end up in bed together again. While she thoroughly enjoys the passion and animalistic-like lust that enwrapped them from the start, there’s something very intimate and instinctual about moments like this. Where they hold hands, press against each other, pant sweet-nothings in each other’s ear while they seek pleasure until there’s nothing left. No rush, no pressure. It’s exactly what she needed tonight.
His mouth moves over hers, his chest brushing against hers while he clutches her fingers in his large hand, being right there in her ear when she lets the tension snap from her being, fluttering all around him. But her own release doesn’t mean she wants him to slow down, if anything, she needs to feel him even more.
Her hips tilt to meet every snap of his. She smooths her hands over his muscular back and, when his rhythm becomes slightly faster, she presses her fingertips into the flesh. Her ankles unhook and her knees fall wider in invitation, but he shallows his movements. She thinks it must be a habit, ingrained over the years, but Gwen knows her own body. Knows that with him, she can push herself a little, oversensitivity be damned. She knows she will feel intensity, not pain, when he bottoms out, and she wants it.
“I can take it.” She tells him.
Her name falls shakily from his lips and he is careful when he presses into her until he’s buried to the hilt, until he’s completely wrapped up in her. He pulls out and does it again, surer this time, but he’s still holding back when Gwen whispers, “Let go.”
So he does. With each deliberate thrust, every other sensation in her body, every thought in her mind, is quieted. For a moment, there is nothing but Blake.
Her mind is already floating towards oblivion when he loses control. It’s almost too much when he rams his hips into hers and empties himself inside her.
Every nerve ending in her body is overwhelmed, overstimulated.
She feels the thin sheen of sweat cooling on her skin now, and fights a shiver. Not a second later, Blake’s arm wraps around her waist, his free hand pulling up the sheets to cover them both. She presses herself up against the bare expanse of his chest, her hand on his shoulder as she allows him to pull her impossibly closer.
The exhaustion comes back in tenfold, the day slamming into her harder than she anticipated.
A yawn pushes past her lips and she nuzzles her head into his chest. “Sorry.”
“For what? Being tired?” He chuckles, gently rubbing circles along her arm. “Would be weirder if you weren’t.”
Gwen exhales, relaxing further into the bulk of him. “I’ve been told I can get quite restless in my sleep after days like this. Will you wake me if I become too much?”
She feels slumber tug at her limbs, trying to drag her under, and she won’t have the energy left to fight it off much longer.
“Yeah, I definitely won’t do that.” He whispers, kissing the crown of her head. “Something tells me it’ll be just fine.”
“You really helped out so much today, Blake.” She tells him again, closing her eyes and blanketing them both in darkness. “I felt so bad for being so late, for missing out on these moments with them when they’re still so young. It helped to know you were there.”
“You’re a super mom, Gwen. But even superheroes can’t do everything all at once.”
It’s too much sometimes, how surrounded he makes her feel. How safe.
“Did they listen to you at least?”
Blake chuckles, the rumble of it felt in her own ribcage.
“As much as expected. They were great though, funny and sweet. Just with the energy of three young boys.”
“They feel so comfortable around you.”
He hums. “I feel comfortable around them too. They’re easy to like, to love; they must take after their mom.”
A warmth settles deep in her core. She sits with it for a moment before she speaks again.
“Stop being smooth, cowboy. I’m way too tired for another round and if you keep it up, I’m gonna really want one.”
His response is a low laugh.
“That’s one promise I’m not gonna love keepin’, but I will.”
She giggles at that, moving against him a few more times to get settled for sure, when a soft knock on the door causes her to lift her head again. Before she can even ask, her middle child pokes his little head through the now slightly ajar door, softly calling for her.
“Mom, I can’t sleep. You home?”
She chuckles, reaching for her tanktop that’s somewhere on the floor, next to the bed, and pulls it over her head. She then sits up, fighting off the fatigue that was threatening to take her under. “I’m home, baby. Why can’t you sleep?”
Zuma fidgets further into the room, sneaking up on her side of the bed, at this point completely unfazed to find Blake right there next to her.
“Dunno.”
She shuffles in closer to Blake, making enough room for Zuma to jump in briefly, but he quickly makes it clear the middle spot is what he’s aiming for.
“Just for a few minutes, okay love?”
She makes an apologetic face towards Blake when Zuma gracelessly falls in between them, but he just brushes it off with a quick smile and an immediate hand to steady him.
Zuma turns his head to her, his little arm swung over her stomach. “Will you be there for dinner tomorrow?”
The question is enough to evoke such guilt within her, she’s tempted to halt any and all conversations she’s had about moving on with this album of hers.
“Yes, of course baby.”
She ruffles his hair, letting her palm linger on the top of his head.
He nods beneath her. “Good. How about Blake? Will he be there too?”
Gwen bites her lip, tampering down on the giddy feeling bubbling in her chest. “I guess that’s something you’ll have to ask him.”
Her response turns out to be a good one, because Blake beams at her in a way only he can, in a way that makes her believe in every decision that brought her here, to him.
“It’d be my honour, bud.”
It’s quiet for a moment. The groundwork is being laid and she thinks they both feel it.
Zuma on the other hand, remains innocently and perfectly oblivious. “We all like it more when you’re here.”
Gwen doesn’t have to look at Blake to know he’s affected by those words, but when she does, his face is filled with a gratitude that could only ever come from her kids.
Doubling down, she knows this is what her most neglected spaces need. A nurturing of the kind, caring and empathic soul she has managed to find in the darkest time of her life.
“We really do.”
Blake’s hand finds hers as he reaches an arm over Zuma’s small body. He keeps the physical touch at a minimum, but the little reassuring touch is exactly what she needs for her body to become pliant again; with that, falling victim to her slumber once more.
Another yawn escapes her, her eyes closing for what feels like only a second. Though she realizes that when Zuma speaks again, her world is still embedded in darkness.
“Is mommy sleeping?”
Blake chuckles lowly, and she hears a little rustling sound as if he’s sitting up to check.
“I think she’s about to. She’s had a long day. How about we stay really quiet so we don’t wake her?”
She feels her little boy nudge her by accident as he obviously turns himself around to face Blake.
“Can I stay in here with you guys?” He whispers.
“You can stay here until you fall asleep, how’s that?” Blake renegotiates gently.
Zuma murmurs something that sounds like an agreement.
When she finally opens her eyes again, turns her head ever so slightly, she catches a glimpse of Zuma pressed into Blake’s chest, his small hand clutching Blake’s forearm. She knows her child won’t ever say this, but there’s a safety he’s been seeking ever since his parents divorced, and right here, she thinks he found it.
Like mother, like son.
Her eyes become liquid before she closes them again.
She’s become engulfed by this feeling of handing herself over to him for nurturing, for safekeeping. The feeling of partnership hitting her hard as she pulls the image of Zuma nestled up to Blake to the front of her frontal lobe. The realization that she can be unpoised, unfiltered and tired, and still be everything he desires and more. That she doesn’t have to dumb herself down or perform in his presence. That she can be a mom, an artist, and a goddamn human being, and be awesome and flawed at all of it, and still be worth his attention. His care.
Slowly, all the hollow places within her are being filed with a newfound hope, a seed of faith and serenity. That it all works out, even when it doesn’t. That love isn’t perfect, but it will never be cruel.
At that, sleep comes easy.