Happiness Is


Band: Mest/Good Charlotte
Pairing: Tony/Benji
Rating: PG
Dated: January 14, 2004
Summary: Standalone, inspired by a random person’s journal. Yeah it's 3:43 in the morning
don’t ask kay, and the title may not go but that had to do with the inspiration so just deal.
ITS NOT MPREG! Don’t comment and say "oh that was a great mpreg" there is no pregnancy in it,
I leave that to the pros. Hmm *shrug* comments are nice. And ehh it's just random…

Notes: What is “mpreg” you ask? It’s male pregnancy.
Yes, men having babies, but my stories mostly deal with after the kid has been born so there's really no pregnancy in it. So if mpreg is a little too much out there for you, imagine that they adopted the kid. *shrug* But if you think this really happened then I think you need help.

This is another addition to my collection of “post-mpreg” (two partners with a baby). If you like this then try some of the others: Their Little Girl- a Benji/Joel, or It Goes Around- a sad Matt/Jere, or Happiness Is- sappy Benji/Tony.

Disclaimer: This is fiction. It never happened and I am in no way affiliated with Mest or Good Charlotte. I mean no disrespect.
They are not in homosexual relationships with each other
and no you may not copy parts of my fiction to use in your own!


Happiness Is

Tony rolls over, the thick comforter slipping from his shoulders to down around his stomach. His hand slides across the sheets, expecting to find more than cool cotton—his eyes opening when there’s nothing there.

But it’s been this way for the past two weeks, his half-conscious mind momentarily forgetting. He frowns and buries his face in the pillow situated on the bed next to his own. It’s almost lost all the reminders of its absent owner—cold and beginning to smell like an artificial garden instead of soap and hair gel like usual.

By tonight the pillow will be warm again, and he smiles just because of that. His husband is coming home. Another smile.

He wonders if he’s overslept. He sits up and a quick look to the clock on his bedside tells him no, that the plane is just landing and it’ll still be a while till he can see his man again.

Slowly gets out of the bed and stretches—his muscles flexing beneath his skin and his vertebrae giving a welcomed crack with the movement. He can already tell it’s going to be a good day.

He pulls the shades, the sun just missing the bedroom window on this the shaded side of the house. He glances at the sun hitting the trees in the yard before making his way to the hall.

Before continuing downstairs he glances into the bedroom on the other side of the hall and makes a pot of coffee once in the kitchen. He turns the thermostat up a couple degrees and moves a small pair of shoes from the stairwell landing.

The plush carpet let’s his toes sink in just a little as he goes back up the stairs, grabbing a towel from the linen closet and shutting the little half door at the top of the stairs quietly. He turns the shower on and strips down, the light in the bathroom dim because he’s neglected to turn on the harsh lights above the mirror.

The hot water and refreshing smell of the soap wakes him up completely, cascading over his colorful neck and back and swirling in the bottom of the shower as it makes its way down the drain. He keeps his shower simple, not wanting to waste any part of today.

He towels his hair and dries off before returning to the bedroom and opening the bureau. He redresses in boxers and a plain white t-shirt—it is after all a Sunday morning and tradition to not get dressed until mid-afternoon, at least tradition in their household.

Making his way to the other bedroom, he picks up a fire truck sitting in the doorway and returns it to it’s respective place in the pile of toys just inside the blue-walled bedroom. Light is pushing at the curtains on the window, begging to come in and start the day. He smiles as light breathing reaches his ears, the little boy still fast asleep in his bed.

His four year old is sprawled out across the bed, head in one corner and feet in the other, and has successfully kicked off his blanket into a pile on the floor. Tony sits on the side of the bed and straightens the boys t-shirt to cover his pale little stomach and Superman boy briefs before picking up the little blanket and recovering him.

He runs his fingers through his baby’s hair, smiling at the slight cowlick in the back and the way it makes the hair stick up. “You got that from me,” he laughs quietly and leans down to place a kiss in the light brown hair. “But you got your daddy’s eyes,” he coos softly, “come on, time to wake up.” The child shifts and rolls over towards Tony, a knobby knee smacking into his thigh.

Tony laughs, “Don’t fall off the bed,” and lightly moves the child back towards the center of the bed, “come on, we can go watch some cartoons and eat some cereal. You want some cereal?” A little mouth opens with a big yawn and little hands rub at sleepy eyes. “Your daddy is gonna be home in a little…”

“Why don’t you let him sleep a while longer,” a voice comes from the doorway and Tony turns quickly to see his husband leaning against the doorframe. He scrambles to his feet and into Benji's arms as quickly as he can. Tony smiles as their arms wrap around each other and lips meet, Benji holding Tony so close the buttons on his jacket are pressing into Tony’s ribs. They separate and Benji smiles, walking over to the bed and pulling the blankets around his son, leaning down and kissing his forehead lightly. Taking Tony’s hand and lacing their fingers together, “Come on, let him sleep,” he says quietly as he tugs his husband back into his arms and towards the cool sheets.

=-=

the end.

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