Chapter Text
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The morning light filters softly through their slitted windows. The sheets shift as he flops onto his belly, moving up onto his forearms, staring down at his husband. Paul’s eyelashes are resting against his cheeks, long and black and pretty. Feyd touches them gently, pressing down slightly, watching as his skin caves a little under his touch. Paul’s face twitches, neck turning to the side. Feyd moves forward and presses his lips to Paul’s.
“You have morning breath,” Paul mumbles against him. But he doesn't push Feyd away, opening his mouth easily.
Feyd tugs at him, humming softly when Paul relents and rolls on top of him. His hair is soft, mouth warm—
“We have to go to breakfast,” Paul whispers against his lips, already pulling away. “You aren’t going to distract me that easily.”
Feyd groans in frustration, but he allows Paul to pull him from bed, forcing him into clothes. Taking his hand and leading him down the hall. Jessica is by the window, Alia in her arms as she rocks back and forth, speaking quietly to the baby. Thufir has a few papers in front of him, sipping slowly from a cup of coffee, nodding distractedly at them as they go to the couch.
“Okay,” Paul pushes him down, standing in front of him with his hands on his hips, turning towards the handmaiden. “Sil, Can you fetch Sarah and Leta?”
“Oh, it’s today?” Jessica asks.
“Yes,” Paul says firmly.
“You said she still can’t hold her head up,” Feyd protests. But he knows it's useless.
“I’ve told you how to do it. You have to hold her eventually.”
“Eventually can be when she can hold her own head up.”
The door opens like Sarah had been on her way before Sil even left. Feyd stiffens, allowing Paul to arrange his arms, pressing him towards the couch back. Sarah approaches, carefully bracing the baby's head and body as she lowers the small bundle into his arms. He holds his breath, looking down. She’s awake, huge blue eyes staring up at him solemnly.
“Relax,” Paul says, walking towards the table to get them breakfast.
Feyd doesn’t relax, but he does breathe. Slowly. Watching Leta shift, tiny body warm against him, even through his shirt. She opens her mouth in a preposterously large yawn, pink gums visible.
“She’s a good baby,” Sarah grunts approvingly. Like they haven’t had this conversation before.
Of course she fucking is.
“She really is,” Jessica interjects from the window. “Just like Paul was.”
Paul looks mildly interested as he comes back, sitting down next to Feyd, setting a plate on his lap.
“Really?” He asks.
“Yes,” Jessica replies softly. “You were always very thoughtful. Even as a baby. Your father and I would joke that you were born a philosopher.”
Paul smiles sadly, re-focusing on Feyd.
“You okay?”
He nods, trying not to jostle her. Paul picks up his fork, shoveling a bite of eggs into his mouth and chewing quietly. At the table, Thufir pours more coffee into his cup, clearing his throat as he rustles the papers. Jessica makes a soft cooing sound, as Alia croaks out a disgruntled noise. Feyd looks down at Leta’s pale, little face, freezing when he sees–
“Paul,” he says quickly. “Paul, she’s smiling.”
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