Imagine coming home to your husband, Chris singing to your six year old after she had a horrible day at school.
You were an hour and a half into your photoshoot with Vogue Magazine when Emily, your personal assistant interrupted with your cellphone pressed against her chest. From the look on her face, you knew it wasn’t good. You apologized to the photographer and followed Emily to a quiet corner while she explained the situation to you.
“Chris called, he wanted to tell you that he picked Arielle up early so you don’t swing by after expecting to get her.” She told you and your eyes narrowed with confusion. “There was an incident during recess between her and Alison Parker, she wouldn’t stop crying so they called Chris to come pick her up.”
“I am so sick of Alison Parker.” Your jaw tightened with a protective anger as you fought the urge to curse out an eight year old. With a slow and deep, inhale and exhale, you calmed down enough to talk civilly. “Is she okay? Did he say anything else?”
“He said that you should focus on your photoshoot and not let this distract you, he’s got it handled.” She informed you then said because she knew you better than most, “the car’s already waiting outside for you.”
“Thanks Emily.” You gave her a small smile then rushed to gather your things so you could go home to your six year old. “Vivian’s going to kill me tomorrow,” you muttered to yourself when you saw the look of anger in your publicist face after hearing the news from Emily.
“What is going on?” The photographer, Linus asked when he noticed you rushing to the door. “Where are you going, Y/N?!” He called out, running after you with a camera in hand. “We still have work to do!” You glanced over you shoulder and saw he’d stopped, waving his camera frantically. “You’re our cover girl!”
“I’m sorry but I have to go.” You called out as you got into the elevator. “It’s a family emer-” the elevator doors closed and you heaved a sigh. “Yeah,” you ran a hand through your hair, “I’m definitely going to lose that cover.”
It was about an hour’s drive from Vogue Magazine back to your house out in the Californian suburbs. The driver entered through your main gate and pulled to the stop at the front of the house. You spotted Chris’ car in the garage as you thanked Jason and got out.
“Hey,” you called out upon entering your house. “Chris?”
You heard light lullaby coming from upstairs and you followed the sound, it wasn’t until you were halfway up the stairs that you realized Chris was singing along to the instrumental version of ‘A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes’.
You peeked into your daughter’s bedroom where Chris sat on the bed with Arielle in his arms, rocking her gently back and forth. Your heart wrenched at the sight of her wet and puffy cheeks and reddened eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable Chris was being with her. You always knew he’d make a great dad and every day since the day your daughter was born, he’d proved he was.
“Don’t let your heart be filled with sorrow,
For all you know tomorrow,
The dream that you wish will come true.”
Chris looked up from Arielle as he continued to sing and saw you standing by the door. He shook his head with a small smile like he didn’t expect anything less from you. You smiled back, beckoning your head as a gesture for him to continue singing.
“No matter how your heart is grieving,
If you keep on believing,
The dream that you wish will come true.”
He finished and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. We both knew she was about to fall asleep so you made no effort to disturb them. He continued humming the melody of the song as he rocked her until sleep consumed her. He carried her with him as he got off the bed then laid her down gently, covering her with her blanket. He kissed her cheek then tucked her Flounder plush under her arm before he carefully and quietly made his way over to you.
“Hey you.” He pecked you on the lips then turned around to join you in watching Arielle sleep. “She’s going to be okay.” He assured you as you sighed, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Are you?” He quizzed, looking down at you. “Vivian must be pissed you left the shoot.”
“It’s alright,” you looked up at him and kissed him. “There’s no place I’d rather be than here with the two of you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands landed on your waist. “You are really nailing this dad thing.”
“I don’t think so,” he chuckled softly. “I’m the reason our daughter is getting bullied,” he said then winced when you frowned in confusion. “You were right about not naming her Arielle.” He told you and you laughed. “Shhh!” He chuckled, covering your mouth with his hand and leading you away from Arielle’s room. “What,” he defended himself, “I thought it was cute- plus- we conceived her while watching The Little Mermaid. Everyone thinks that it’s a cute name with a cute story.”
“That’s because you’re Captain America and nobody wants to tell you how weird you and your wife are for having sex while watching a kid’s movie.” You chuckled and he threw his head back, laughing. “Honestly, as soon as she’s old enough- I’m going to let her rebrand herself so she can avoid the constant Little Mermaid jokes.”
“She doesn’t even have the exact same name!” He protested. “I added the E and L, it makes a difference.”