The Bedtime Story
Title: The Bedtime Story
Fandom: Power Rangers SPD
Rating: G
Summary: Bridge puts his daughters to bed.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not in any way, shape, or form. Wishing won't make a thing so.
For schmoop_bingo prompt kidfic- bedtime
“Tell me the story, Daddy.” Zelda asked as quietly as she could while Bridge fluffed the blankets around her. He tucked in her most prized stuffed bear beside her.
“Not tonight, baby. It’s already late,” he whispered, kissing his middle daughter on the forehead, hoping she’d lie down already. She’d already stalled herself fifteen minutes past bedtime.
“I want to hear the story!” Hannah cried out as she sat straight up in the bed across the room. She’d been so quiet in the dark, Bridge had thought she’d been asleep.
“Why are you still awake, little Mousey? It’s way past your bedtime.” Bridge stood up and made his way around the piles of toys and books on the floor, expertly avoiding the stray blocks and legos. He sat down on the edge of his youngest daughter’s bed and smoothed her blankets as she fidgeted.
“It was too dark. And too light. I can't sleep when it doesn't match.” Hannah said as if it explained everything. Bridge sighed and pinched his nose, wondering if this is how his own mother felt when he had been small and confusing. Well, more confusing than he was now, anyway. He suddenly wished very much that she were still alive so he could apologize to her. Again.
“We could sleep if we heard a story, Daddy. Right, Hannah? And not just any story; we want THE story. Please can we hear the story, Daddy? Pretty pretty please?” Zelda begged, clasping her hands in front of her and turning her big brown eyes on him. Hannah imitated her sister and he was surrounded by a chorus. He expected that behavior from Hannah. She was only four and still had the baby-face to pull it off. But Zelda was nine. He had thought she was past that stage. But then, she always was good at convincing him to do just about anything if she used the right puppy-dog eyes to pouty lip ratio.
“Oh, are you telling the story tonight, Dad? I want to hear too! It’s my favourite,” another voice chimed in from the doorway. Devorah darted into the room her sisters shared before Bridge could protest and plopped herself down on Zelda’s bed. At eleven, she hadn’t asked for a bedtime story for years, but she always did like to listen to this one.
“I really wasn’t-” he started before a sound interrupted him. The only person left in the house cleared her throat behind him.
“It’s a lost cause, Bridge. They’ve got you beat. Let’s hear the story.” Z said with a small smile on her face. Bridge sighed, but one look at his girls and he knew his wife was right. They’d won before they’d even started.
“Okay, okay. THE story it is.” Bridge prompted Hannah to move to the bed with her sisters so he could sit on her now empty bed with Z. He took a deep breath and began to tell the story, the one they always seemed to beg for. He wove a tale of a handsome, albeit oblivious and rather hopeless, prince and the brave princess, clad all in yellow, that rescued him. His story was a little different each time he told it, but it always involved monsters and heroes who always won, good friends and family, and a love that grew mostly unnoticed out of friendship.
“With the streetlight flickering above them, the Yellow Princess worked up all her courage and asked the prince to spend the rest of his life with her. He agreed, filled with more love and joy than he ever thought possible, and they lived happily ever after.” Bridge finished. He felt Z smile as she leaned against him.
“So romantic.” Zelda whispered, her eyes closed, more asleep than awake. Z picked up Hannah, fast asleep and snoring lightly, and carried her across the room to her own bed. Devorah slowly extracted herself from the tangle of blankets at the foot of the bed and crept to the door. Bridge followed his oldest daughter to the hallway. She stopped in her own doorway and looked back at him.
“And then the Yellow Princess and the Handsome Prince had three little princesses, right?” she asked.
“Three of the most extraordinary princesses in all the world,” he whispered. She blushed, but smiled wide as she stepped into her room.
“Night, Daddy,” she whispered. Bridge grinned to himself. He missed having her call him daddy, and he cherished the rare moments she gave him the gift of still being his little girl.
“Night, Dev,” he said as she closed the door behind her.
He felt Z’s arms wrap around his waist and squeeze him tight. He walked them down the hallway with Z still wrapped around him. She climbed into bed beside him and snuggled in close, inching up to kiss him deeply.
“It’s always been my favourite story, too.”
Fandom: Power Rangers SPD
Rating: G
Summary: Bridge puts his daughters to bed.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not in any way, shape, or form. Wishing won't make a thing so.
For schmoop_bingo prompt kidfic- bedtime
“Tell me the story, Daddy.” Zelda asked as quietly as she could while Bridge fluffed the blankets around her. He tucked in her most prized stuffed bear beside her.
“Not tonight, baby. It’s already late,” he whispered, kissing his middle daughter on the forehead, hoping she’d lie down already. She’d already stalled herself fifteen minutes past bedtime.
“I want to hear the story!” Hannah cried out as she sat straight up in the bed across the room. She’d been so quiet in the dark, Bridge had thought she’d been asleep.
“Why are you still awake, little Mousey? It’s way past your bedtime.” Bridge stood up and made his way around the piles of toys and books on the floor, expertly avoiding the stray blocks and legos. He sat down on the edge of his youngest daughter’s bed and smoothed her blankets as she fidgeted.
“It was too dark. And too light. I can't sleep when it doesn't match.” Hannah said as if it explained everything. Bridge sighed and pinched his nose, wondering if this is how his own mother felt when he had been small and confusing. Well, more confusing than he was now, anyway. He suddenly wished very much that she were still alive so he could apologize to her. Again.
“We could sleep if we heard a story, Daddy. Right, Hannah? And not just any story; we want THE story. Please can we hear the story, Daddy? Pretty pretty please?” Zelda begged, clasping her hands in front of her and turning her big brown eyes on him. Hannah imitated her sister and he was surrounded by a chorus. He expected that behavior from Hannah. She was only four and still had the baby-face to pull it off. But Zelda was nine. He had thought she was past that stage. But then, she always was good at convincing him to do just about anything if she used the right puppy-dog eyes to pouty lip ratio.
“Oh, are you telling the story tonight, Dad? I want to hear too! It’s my favourite,” another voice chimed in from the doorway. Devorah darted into the room her sisters shared before Bridge could protest and plopped herself down on Zelda’s bed. At eleven, she hadn’t asked for a bedtime story for years, but she always did like to listen to this one.
“I really wasn’t-” he started before a sound interrupted him. The only person left in the house cleared her throat behind him.
“It’s a lost cause, Bridge. They’ve got you beat. Let’s hear the story.” Z said with a small smile on her face. Bridge sighed, but one look at his girls and he knew his wife was right. They’d won before they’d even started.
“Okay, okay. THE story it is.” Bridge prompted Hannah to move to the bed with her sisters so he could sit on her now empty bed with Z. He took a deep breath and began to tell the story, the one they always seemed to beg for. He wove a tale of a handsome, albeit oblivious and rather hopeless, prince and the brave princess, clad all in yellow, that rescued him. His story was a little different each time he told it, but it always involved monsters and heroes who always won, good friends and family, and a love that grew mostly unnoticed out of friendship.
“With the streetlight flickering above them, the Yellow Princess worked up all her courage and asked the prince to spend the rest of his life with her. He agreed, filled with more love and joy than he ever thought possible, and they lived happily ever after.” Bridge finished. He felt Z smile as she leaned against him.
“So romantic.” Zelda whispered, her eyes closed, more asleep than awake. Z picked up Hannah, fast asleep and snoring lightly, and carried her across the room to her own bed. Devorah slowly extracted herself from the tangle of blankets at the foot of the bed and crept to the door. Bridge followed his oldest daughter to the hallway. She stopped in her own doorway and looked back at him.
“And then the Yellow Princess and the Handsome Prince had three little princesses, right?” she asked.
“Three of the most extraordinary princesses in all the world,” he whispered. She blushed, but smiled wide as she stepped into her room.
“Night, Daddy,” she whispered. Bridge grinned to himself. He missed having her call him daddy, and he cherished the rare moments she gave him the gift of still being his little girl.
“Night, Dev,” he said as she closed the door behind her.
He felt Z’s arms wrap around his waist and squeeze him tight. He walked them down the hallway with Z still wrapped around him. She climbed into bed beside him and snuggled in close, inching up to kiss him deeply.
“It’s always been my favourite story, too.”