Work Text:
Josua has heard of the idea of parents not knowing when the last time they hugged their child. And it goes for Josua as well - he doesn't know when the last time he hugged or cuddled his dad was.
He has vague memories of sitting in his dad's lap, asking him about what he was reading or asking him to bandage his finger. Or of being on his dad's shoulders in the forest, pointing out the birds he could see nestled in the trees above them. He remembers that from years ago, when he was really young.
However, as he's gotten older, those memories have fizzled out and become blurry and cut short. He can't remember the last time he hugged or cuddled with his dad. And he misses it.
While sitting on his bed, he closes his diary with a soft thud of the thick pages and slides it onto his desk, dropping the pen into the pot in the corner. Josua slips off of his bed and opens the door with a creak.
He was meant to be asleep nearly half an hour ago. But he couldn't sleep thinking about his dad, so he had opened his diary and begun writing about it until he realised he could act upon it.
In the living room, the fireplace is crackling, candles upon the top of the fireplace. In front of the fire, is Kurt's leather chair, facing the embers.
Josua pads softly into the room, stepping behind his dad.
"Josua? What are you doing being awake so late?" Kurt asks, no bite in his question. Josua would have thought he'd be scolded and this would all be a mistake. His dad is still in the Gambämark family uniform.
He has a mug in his hand, that he slides onto the small table next to him.
Josua doesn't reply, feeling like a child again with how softly his dad is speaking to him.
He crawls into his dad's lap, sitting like a baby in his arms, that wrap around him. Josua rests his head in the crook of Kurt's neck, closing his eyes as his dad's hands stroke his back and thigh.
"Oh, Josua, my baby, what's wrong?" Kurt's eye brows furrow, pressing a kiss to Josua's cheek, the hand on his back moving upwards, starting to run his fingers through Josua's curly brown hair.
"Nothing." Josua mumbles, as the leather chair begins to rock slowly backwards and forwards.
"Are you sure, Josua? You can tell me, you know? You're still my baby boy."
He pulls Josua closer and tighter, arms wrapped around him while they rock slowly in Kurt's chair.
"I'm okay, dad." Josua says into the skin of his dad's neck, one arm slung over Kurt's chest to rest his hand on his shoulder. "I just missed you."
"My baby Josua.” Kurt whispers, closing his eyes too, thumb swiping back and forth over Josua's thigh.
Josua leans further into his dad as he falls asleep, and before he knows it, Kurt has rocked him to sleep, like his baby again.
It's muscle memory to rock Josua when he is in his arms, like he did for years to rock the boy to sleep. Even when he was out of the baby stage, toddling around their house, speaking and reading, Josua would still crawl into his arms and beg for Kurt to cuddle him as he slept.
And Kurt would be lying if he said he missed holding his son, the life he aided in the creation of. He missed Josua purposely leaning into him on the sofa so he could fall asleep comfortably. He missed his son showing him he loved him.
Kurt feels the warmth of the fire settling on his skin, sleep making his eyelids heavier.
"I love you, Josua. More than you know, okay?" Kurt kisses his cheek again and leans back.
He's missed this.