Who: Axel and Vanessa Van Helsing Miller, NPC Dylan Miller What: A day in the life Where: Their home When: Morning Warnings: PTSD likely to present in panic/anxiety Status: Closed
He'd been home for about a week, maybe a little more. The days all ran together for him because he wasn't able to keep a schedule. He'd been advised to go to bed and wake up at the same time every day, but the problem with that was he didn't sleep. He'd lay awake, tossing and turning, and the longer he tried to lay still, the more shallow and irregular his breathing became until he was driven from the warmth of the sheets and Vanessa beside him. More often than not, he'd end up sitting in the shower, without turning the water on.
Sometimes he found himself standing in the doorway of his daughter's room, watching her sleep. She'd graduated to a big girl bed several weeks before he came home, which just reminded him of how many growing up milestones he'd missed. Damn near every one, really. She was three already, walking and talking, out of diapers, sleeping in a big girl bed. There wasn't much left for him to experience with her, at least that was how it felt. He'd missed so much and he felt like she would never be as close to him as she was her mother. And he couldn't blame her.
Vanessa insisted Dylan just needed time to warm up to him. She knew who he was, she recognised him as her daddy. She'd even given him her precious Mr Unicorn the first day he was home. She'd asked him to read her a bedtime story the first night she was home with him at bedtime, after spending the night with her Aunt Scarlett. Reading to her was the primary way he was bonding with her, so far, but he knew he needed to do more. A couple of stories at bedtime wasn't enough to build a relationship.
That was what had him going to her doorway bright and early, around the time he knew she might be waking up. Vanessa was still asleep, and because she didn't have much of a sleep pattern now that he was home, he was hoping she'd sleep for a good while, because she needed it. "Hey, pumpkin," he leaned his shoulder against the door frame in Dylan's room. She was sitting up in bed, playing with some electronic toy. He could barely manage his cell phone, but she was more than efficient on her tablet. of course it was a child's model, designed for small kids, but he'd seen her take her mother's phone and play games he had no clue what they were.
"Hi Daddy," the little girl replied, without looking up from whatever was on her screen.
He felt the corners of his mouth twitch. "Your mama's still sleeping. But I thought maybe you'd like to help me make breakfast for her. We can let her eat breakfast in bed."
Dylan punched a button or three, then set the tablet in her lap and looked up at her father. "Mommy says we don't eat in bed."
He absolutely wasn't prepared for the little girl to object. He drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. One of his hands curled into a fist, not because he wanted to hit something, but because it was a means to channel excess energy. Frustration. Uncertainty. "Well, sometimes it's a special treat. Especially for mommies who work real hard." Hopefully Dylan would accept that answer and agree.
She made a face, then nodded. "Okay, but if she don't like it you gets in trouble for it. Not me."
He had to laugh at that. "Deal."
She set her tablet aside and climbed out of the bed, and reached for his hand to walk to the kitchen. That small gesture went a long way toward settling his nerves, and he let her lead the way to the kitchen. He had no real plan, but figured he'd wing it. Eggs and toast, maybe. That was a good place to start. Bacon if they had any.
"Are we making pancakes?" Dylan asked, and there was no way he could tell her no.
"Of course we are. But you're going to have to help me, because I haven't made pancakes for a very long time."
Half an hour later, with both of them wearing more of the pancake mix than went into the making the pancakes, and with strips of extra crispy bacon on to plate, Axel tasked Dylan with carrying a glass of orange juice for her mother. They made it to the bedroom with minimal spillage, at least until Dylan launched herself, orange juice and all, toward the bed to wake Vanessa up.