"I might want that," he teases with a grin and there's a big part of him that wants to reach out for Spencer and drag him back into bed, baby and all. It's Christmas and while he knows that doesn't alleviate any of the responsibilities they have for the day ahead, but he thinks it should allow them at least an extra half hour in bed if that's what they want. That should be their Christmas gift to themselves, but he knows they need to get up, and so when he grabs at Spencer, it's half hearted, his fingers just grazing his husband's back and then he falls back into the bed with another laugh. He's happy, happier than he's ever been before, and what Spencer has just said sticks with him as he lies there for a moment later, staring up at the ceiling. He can hear Spencer moving down the hall toward the stares, murmuring to Dane, and Joel closes his eyes, just listening.
Spencer is right. Last year he had been so happy and he hadn't thought it would be possible to be any happier, but here they are, and he is. They're together, they're wonderfully happy in their marriage and now they have Dane, who really is the most perfect little baby they could have hoped for. From here it's only going to get better. Dane is going to get bigger, next year he probably still won't be old enough to truly understand what's happening, but the year after that and from then on Christmas is going to be a chaotic, wonderful affair. Joel can't wait for those days, but he also isn't going to waste these ones and so he opens his eyes again and wipes any tears that have collected at the corners before he pushes himself out of bed. Pausing to grab a pair of pajama bottoms out of the drawer, he pulls them on, then heads downstairs.
Going into the kitchen, Joel opens the fridge and begins to remove things from inside, taking the eggs and some cream, the three different types of cheeses he'd been hoarding for just this purpose, some vegetables and meat and he sets and chopping and mixing and grating the cheese, all while listening for Spencer and Dane in the living room. While he moves around the kitchen, he turns on the formula warmer and grabs one of the bottles from the fridge he'd prepared the night before, then puts it carefully inside when it's ready. He has to admit, there are some things Spencer had splurged on that Joel especially likes, and the formula warmer is one of them. It makes it so easy, never too hot for the baby, never anything but perfectly warm, and all Joel has to do is flick a switch.
"Does he need to be fed?" he calls as he returns to the eggs, whisking them together with some cream in a bowl. "I've got one of the bottles warming up right now if he starts to get fussy." For a few months after he was born he'd cried so much Joel had worried they were doing something wrong, but both his mother and Erin had insisted it was normal, that it was nothing more than colic, that he'd grow out of it by the time he was three or four months, and that had happened, but even still, Joel hates hearing him cry. He worries about the baby, worries he's not happy, and he'll do anything to head the tears off before they begin. It's not possible, of course, Dane is a baby and babies cry, but Joel had gotten pretty good at predicting his moods. He and Spencer both have.
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Spencer is right. Last year he had been so happy and he hadn't thought it would be possible to be any happier, but here they are, and he is. They're together, they're wonderfully happy in their marriage and now they have Dane, who really is the most perfect little baby they could have hoped for. From here it's only going to get better. Dane is going to get bigger, next year he probably still won't be old enough to truly understand what's happening, but the year after that and from then on Christmas is going to be a chaotic, wonderful affair. Joel can't wait for those days, but he also isn't going to waste these ones and so he opens his eyes again and wipes any tears that have collected at the corners before he pushes himself out of bed. Pausing to grab a pair of pajama bottoms out of the drawer, he pulls them on, then heads downstairs.
Going into the kitchen, Joel opens the fridge and begins to remove things from inside, taking the eggs and some cream, the three different types of cheeses he'd been hoarding for just this purpose, some vegetables and meat and he sets and chopping and mixing and grating the cheese, all while listening for Spencer and Dane in the living room. While he moves around the kitchen, he turns on the formula warmer and grabs one of the bottles from the fridge he'd prepared the night before, then puts it carefully inside when it's ready. He has to admit, there are some things Spencer had splurged on that Joel especially likes, and the formula warmer is one of them. It makes it so easy, never too hot for the baby, never anything but perfectly warm, and all Joel has to do is flick a switch.
"Does he need to be fed?" he calls as he returns to the eggs, whisking them together with some cream in a bowl. "I've got one of the bottles warming up right now if he starts to get fussy." For a few months after he was born he'd cried so much Joel had worried they were doing something wrong, but both his mother and Erin had insisted it was normal, that it was nothing more than colic, that he'd grow out of it by the time he was three or four months, and that had happened, but even still, Joel hates hearing him cry. He worries about the baby, worries he's not happy, and he'll do anything to head the tears off before they begin. It's not possible, of course, Dane is a baby and babies cry, but Joel had gotten pretty good at predicting his moods. He and Spencer both have.