For reallyoldguy

She was curled on the bed, feet tucked up underneath. Evie was old enough now that she wasn't in the bassonette, and was tucked in for her nap down the hall. It helped that Wesley was also finally willing to let her out of his sight, for at least a few hours a day.

A familiar sweater was curled up at her feet, fresh from the dryer. But the point on either side wasn't warmth. Fred waggled her toes happily underneath, looking the the profile at the other side of the room.

"So what, exactly, was I supposed to be missing?"