Work Text:
Dinah can't remember the last time she woke naturally, the dawn chorus permeating the walls of sleep, drawing her from its grasp. She stretches luxuriantly, then sits bolt-upright.
Connor's crib is empty.
Dinah storms out of the bedroom just as ceramic clanking beckons her to the kitchen. Harley's dancing barefoot on the tiles, nightgown swaying above her knees. She has Connor strapped to her breast with a blanket and is waving a spatula about. Mason jars of flour and sugar are left open on the counter and Dinah realizes she should get plastic containers for storage from now on. Harley could have dropped these.
"Mornin'!" Harley beams and flips a pancake. "Just in time for breakfast."
"You didn't have to get him." Dinah walks over to pick up her son. She's only somewhat apprehensive about Harley's blanket arrangement.
"He's no trouble. Aren't you, little man?" Harley noses Connor's temple as she extricates him from the knots. Dinah kisses Harley, but her son wants none of that. He pokes them both with his tiny fists. "Don't be jealous, little man. You'll get kissies too, if that's what you want. What? No kissies? You want your bottle? Alrighty then, bottle it is."
Harley fishes the bottle from its water bath and offers it to Dinah, who shakes her head. "You do it." Arranging Connor in the crook of her elbow, she tests the bottle's temperature on her wrist. "He likes you."
"Of course he does." Harley grins. "I'm feeding him right now."