You can’t remember ever sleeping in on a Saturday anymore. Your eyes are open because you can hear someone else’s feet moving through the house. Hopefully you’ll be able to stall awhile before you’re called out for sleeping too late.
Rolling over in bed, you go for some hardcore cuddling against Dave’s side, nuzzling your whole body against him while leaving a few soft kisses on his neck. He lets out a sigh as he wakes up, not moving to actually get up, rather just pulling you tightly into his arms and relaxing as if he’s going to sleep again.
“How long do you think we can hide?” you whisper.
Dave’s eyes are still closed, but he smiles softly, pulling you in even closer until you two are fitted together like puzzle pieces. He pulls one hand away to sign, Long enough for sex?
You laugh, nudging him with your hips, but that probably wasn’t a good idea considering the proposition he just gave. “You know what happened last time we did that when he was awake.”
Wrestling, Dave’s hand says, eyes opening to show a playful sparkle in them.
“He’s getting big. I think he’s going to find out eventually that people don’t go, ‘Oh God, yes, harder!’ during wrestling.”
I never make any noise.
“I wonder why, you ass.”
He chuckles airily, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Neither of you speak again, not with hands or voice. Late Saturday sleep ins are rare, so you both are praying that you’ll pass out for another hour at least. You kiss against Dave’s scar, something you haven’t done in a while, and he sighs softly, nuzzling your temple before settling down again.
You both fall asleep again for about ten minutes, pressed in close to the other. But both of your eyes open at a clatter down in the kitchen, causing you both to chuckle.
“He’s going to make a mess,” you say.
Dave keeps your lower halves pressed together so that he at least has enough room to sign to you, still lying on his side. Go get him then.
Hearing those small feet come up the stairs, you sign back rather than speak. You go get him.
You roll your eyes, but then sign more slowly, The other day he asked me why you don’t talk.
Dave stares at you for a bit, then tiredly lifts one hand to wave his middle finger by his head, signing, Why?
He said all the other kids at school have talking moms and dads. I guess he was just curious.
Was he… sad?
Not at all.
What did you tell him?
That you lost your voice when you were young. And that you’re special. You pause and then add, He wants to bring you in for Show and Tell.
Dave laughs at that, leaning in to do that thing where he barely touches your lips, forcing you to push back against him and complete it. Your small kisses turn into deep ones, and soon you’re wrapping your arms around him, licking his lip and letting his tongue in your mouth. Just as he starts to grind his hips into yours, small hands bang on the bedroom door.
“DADDYYYYYYYY. PAPAAAAAAAAAAA. GET UUUUUUP.”
“Fuck,” you sigh, Dave only making that breathy chuckle as he kisses your lips one more time.
Go to sleep, Dave signs, kissing your forehead and then climbing out of bed. You smile, watching him pull some old jeans over his boxers, then walking to the door and opening it, tackled by a small four-year-old.
You’ve had Dave play you love songs on a lake dock at sunset, but there is really nothing more amazing then watching him interact and play with your kid. He swoops the child up over his shoulder, the boy laughing hysterically.
“Make me breakfast!” he demands.
Holding him on his hip now, Dave signs, What do you say?
His hands are small and clumsy, but he signs back fluently, rubbing his hand on his chest for emphasis on the begging, Pleeeeeease make me breakfast, Daddy?
Good. He kisses the child’s cheek, then flashes you a small smile.
“I’ll be down in twenty,” you say.
Dave nods and heads for the stairs, the little boy over his shoulder waving ecstatically at you yelling, “Goooood morning, Papa!”
“Good morning,” you laugh, watching them both disappear.
You curl up in the blankets, burying your face in Dave’s pillow since it smells like him. You don’t hear anything downstairs except for plates being brought out and pots banging, so you’re guessing they’re both only signing, rather than your child talking to reply.
A lot of days are like that here. Everyone just uses their hands rather than their voice. Unlike when you were young, you’ve learned to fall in love with the silence.