He’d been paying so much attention to Cisco not falling over that Noah hadn’t considered his bare feet until it was too late. Shit. He was really screwing up this particular bit of his parenting, that was for damn sure! As the blood started pouring from both foot and nose he grabbed a wad of kitchen roll and quickly scooped Cisco up and sat him on the kitchen table. “Here, head back,” he told him softly, “it’ll stop faster that way.”
So, this was what Cisco’s visions looked like. Noah should have expected it sooner or later but like everything else in life he’d hoped it would be later. But here they were and they would handle it. Together, cause that’s what family did.
As Noah tended to his foot and cleaned away the broken shards he looked over at the boy. “So, something bad, huh? If you don’t want to talk about it, I get it,” he told Cisco with a frown, “but if it’d help, I’m here.” Against all odds Noah managed to find a lone band-aid in the back of the cutlery drawer, where once a full first-aid kit hand lurked, and he deposited it on the wounded foot. “You want ice for your nose or is it slowing down?” he asked, more concerned about Cisco’s health than his visions right now. There would be time enough for them later.