WHO: Wesley Shields & Cassie Merriweather WHAT: Older!Wesley stumbles into what he thinks is his wife's flat and wants to make baby #5.... WHEN: 9 August, 2025 WHERE: Cassie's flat
Wesley could not remember what he had come out to Diagon Alley for. Did they need diapers for little Aurora? He could not, for the life of him, remember. Sheepishly, he went back to the flat he shared with his wife. Cassandra would yell at him, make him write it down this time, but ultimately forgive him. That's how it always went. He smiled as he apparated back to the place. Maybe, if she were feeling extra forgiving, they could try again for that baby boy. Four daughters was a handful, undoubtedly, but Wesley could not deny that he loved them with all of his heart. He was terrified of what would happen when they hit their teenage years. If they took after their mum, they would all be horribly beautiful. It made him want to throttle things.
"Cass?" He called, unlocking the door easily. He glanced around with a frown. It looked different inside. No toys all over the floor... Where was Zoey's race car collection? It was normally piled up on the floor beside the front door. He had stepped on them one too many times. One of her favourites had been crushed last time and Wes had been forced to buy her another one to stop the outrageous tantrum. His second eldest daughter acted like a tough tomboy most of the time, except when she wanted to cry and scream her way to victory. He shrugged, thinking Cassie must have cleaned it up.
Cassandra was still asleep, laying in bed. He saw her red hair peeking out from beneath the blanket. Well, a sleepy wife was generally a good thing. Wes kicked off his shoes and shirt and slid in next to her, running a hand over her flat stomach that had been so big just under a year ago. She wanted to wait to try again, but Wesley was getting impatient. Fifth time would be it, a boy.
"Cass?" he said, nipping her ear in the way he knew she liked. "You up?" He knew she wasn't, but he liked to tease her like this sometimes. Grinning, he put a hand on her arse and squeezed, "You should wake up."