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Inigo stares at it all silently. Every single drawing, every outline, as rough at it may still be. But they're still enough to imagine what it may be like, a place like that filled with people. It all feels like so much - it had already felt like so much back when Roland presented the idea to him for the first time, but it's something else to see it slowly becoming more concrete. And then there's Will's name already on it - Inigo can only imagine how the other may approach this, with overwhelming enthusiasm, not even knowing where to start. It's like he can hear the kid's voice in his head already.

It's only when he hears that last thing Roland says, the stammer in his voice, that Inigo turns his attention and imagination away from the pictures and back towards Roland, turning his head a little so he can better see the older man, a small smile on his face.

"You always do that, father!" It doesn't sound accusing - well, not in any serious way, anyway. It sounds light instead, amused. Like seeing the well-known habit of a loved one. "You always do these huge great things, and then you suddenly start wondering if it's all okay. As if you aren't doing something great."

And sure, Inigo is probably the person who's the least allowed to call Roland out on this, since Inigo is even more uncertain of his own plans at least 99% of the time. But he's the one present here right now, so he has to be the one to do it.

"I mean, setting up even all of this.. It can't have been easy." There has been actual effort put into this already. And all that on top of how busy Roland already is from day to day. "Though I'm sure the end result will be worth it."

Even if Inigo can't save all of the kids he's failed so much in the past, maybe he can at least slowly start to make up for it with this.

"Do I, now?" Roland laughs under his breath, sheepish in the slight profile he shows as him while his gaze drops to his lap now blanketed with layers of warm fleece and wool. If he moved his leg a little bit more to the side, he'd be knocking heels with Inigo, which he does by accident as he adjusts in his seat. None of it bothers him at all, more pleased that the surprise is well-received.

"I wouldn't say this is 'great' just yet, but it can be." He adds, intertwining one of their hands again, bouncing it once in affection. "With you on board, it'll only be a matter of time." And even if Inigo is already used to things like this, hearing words of praise from Roland left and right, it doesn't make the habit of showing Inigo how much he supports him any less meaningful.

"I'll admit the work has yet to really begin, but...it's a group effort. Don't worry about it. I have fun doing things for you guys. Really."

He lets Inigo study the blueprints for a bit longer, but when he is ready to take them back, they're easily tucked away back in the folders from under his bed. The rest of this project could wait till the morning, or however long they needed. Not for the first time does Roland realize they really did have the chance to savor each day as it came and went. Tonight was no longer for surprise projects and paperwork; not anymore.

Tonight, Roland is no longer alone. Without prompting from Inigo, he is already wrapping his arms around him, getting ready to cuddle for bed.

"That's enough of that for now. Come on. Bed time, pup. Get cozy."

The remark is first met with a half-groan, half-hum.

And then followed up with a near childish and slightly tired-sounding protest of: "But I am already cozy.." Which isn't really a lie. After all, Inigo is get cozy so easily, especially when he's near people he cares for this much. Just the feeling of Roland's arms around him is enough to make him feel cozy.

But he does shift a moment later. Rolling over onto his side from where he was laying on his back, scooting in a bit more so he can rest his head on Roland's chest. It's something Inigo doesn't even have to think about anymore. They've cuddled so often at this point that it's like two puzzle pieces fitting together, no matter that Roland's body is a lot older now than it used to be.

".. It's so quiet here," Inigo says after a moment of quiet.

And while it's true that it's not entirely silent in the room - he can hear the faint ticking of a clock coming from somewhere, for one - it's so much different compared to the times they did this on the train, with the constant droning sound of the train moving in the background.

But this time, as they're lying there, there is no train. It's just them.

"Should I sing a lullaby or something? Heh."

It's meant as a jest, but a part of him could be convinced. The warmth of their molded bodies is comforting just as much to Roland, even if they have done this so many times before. Once, many nights ago, Will was nestled right in between them, making for a very cute and very nest-like family sandwich. He may be missing right now, but it doesn't take away from how lovely it all feels to Roland, how complete his heart is, filled to the brim with light.

His hand drifts to the breadth of Inigo's back, gently rubbing it up and down to help him calm even more. The way they've fit together makes it easier for him to settle his chin against the top of Inigo's head, though his eyes are still wide open.

"You have a much better singing voice than I do, though. Maybe you could serenade us to sleep instead?" That too, is meant to jab lightly, but Inigo would know Roland means every word regardless. The praise, the offer. None of it made with any force or fire behind it, with his fingers drumming against the fabric of the boy's shirt like he's doing everything he can to relax him to dreamland.

Here Roland is, trying so hard to soothe and calm down Inigo so he can fall asleep, and then he just has to make a remark like that. The exact kind of remark that flusters the boy, negating at least half of Roland's half work here. Because if anything startles the boy a bit more awake again, it's compliments he's unsure how to deal with.

"C-Come on, father. It's not that great."

At least Roland is being spared a total freakout. Perhaps it's a sign that Inigo is getting a bit sleepy already, just from how comfortable it is to lay here against Roland. Sleepy enough that his fluster is a bit more muted.

"Besides, what's wrong with yours? Wouldn't you sing me a lullaby if I asked for it?"

If Inigo meant to throw that question right back at him to administer the same reaction, it works. Roland sputters a reply against the tuft of hair tickling his nose, his ministrations on his back halting totally. He's probably panicking more than Inigo is right now, slowly making his way towards dreamland.

Though there's something to be said in how he's learning way more from Roland than expected if Inigo comes up with a retort that fast, that effectively. No longer does his masterful deflection pass undetected. His sons are too smart for that now - earlier this evening, from William, and now from his eldest (youngest?).

"Ah, well." He clears his throat, resuming the rubbing against Inigo's back in long strokes. "I-I would. But it won't be pleasant."

Hey, maybe if he lulls him to sleep fast enough, Roland won't have to do anything. Yes, this is genius.

"I'm not exactly a singer, pup. Carrying a tune is different from actually sounding nice, you know?"

Gotosleep gotosleep gotosleepgotosleep-

Fool. The absolute fool that Roland is, throwing all his hope onto that one fact. Throwing all his hope into the corner of one teenager not walking all over him for once. Maybe one day he will learn.

But today is not that day, apparently. Since Roland will soon notice that his chosen strategy isn't quite working. Rather than Inigo going quiet or sleeping, there's actually a small whine coming from the boy, no matter how comfortable he currently is in both his father's bed and embrace.

"You're my father." An obvious statement, yes, but it's more a prelude to what follows it. "I like anything you do."

Such is the bias of family! But really, Inigo mostly just figures there's no way Roland would sound that bad. His voice is nice enough, so what gives?

And then, almost as if to shove the knife in - though it's hard to tell whether it's on purpose or not: ".. Are you embarrassed, father?"

"I...uh..."

Eloquence is out the window, never to be seen again. The rubbing against Inigo's back ceases, and he has to look down at him entangled in his arms for him to actually blush and look away. If that's not the definition of embarrassment, then Roland doesn't know what is. But he doesn't mean to add meaning to Inigo's very correct assessment! He's just caught off-guard! And it's Inigo! His kid!

No amount of stoicism is going to pass his keen gaze. Not after he's read Roland so many times that he knows mannerisms by heart. There's no path left except to be honest.

Or try to, at least.

His legs shift under the covers.

"It's more of, I'm not even sure I even know any lullabies now." A beat. "Aren't you too old for those anyway, pup?"

GO TO SLEEP GOTOSLEEP GO TO SLEEP!!!

Edited 2021-03-22 17:20 (UTC)

The more ~~the lady~~ the lord protests, the more pushback there's going to be. Since it's getting increasingly more obvious just how embarrassed Roland is getting over here, and that means Inigo now really wants to hear him sing it. How bad could it be! Maybe this time it's his dad who needs a confidence boost about doing something creative, compared to Inigo's usual dancing woes.

So he wriggles against Roland in the other's hold, as if to show off that he's still very much awake, thanks. No going to sleep here until he's had his lullaby.

"Oh, come on! In that case you could say I'm technically too old for this too, you know." Cuddling in bed with his father - what teen Inigo's age would still voluntarily want to do that? And yet here he is, as comfortable as can be.

Well...he's got me there.

He knows when to concede. Since when did Inigo get this good at catching Roland totally off-guard, totally at a loss for any sort of comeback that could save him? Too much training on the train, he feels like, even as they transcend lifetimes and worlds.

At first, Roland sighs, grows silent. His hand returns to gently caressing his back, fingers playing against the soft flannel of his shirt, eyes open staring at the darkness bathing the wall behind Inigo. And then, as if out of nowhere, his voice does tremble. Inigo would feel its vibrations against his cheek, where it rests against Roland's chest...a vibrato that's low and baritone, unsure of its notes, pitchy in places, definitely unpracticed.

But for what his singing voice lacks in technical perfection, it makes up for it with earnest passion, an attempt to fulfill his end of the promise...and because Inigo is the one to ask him to sing. If there was anybody on this earth who could get Roland to do something that he wasn't sure of, didn't think to do or want, it would be his children. Two sons, who fills his broken life with healing love.

'Now I've heard there was a secret chord, that David played, and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you?'

He swallows a bit, before singing again, nowhere near the melody, but it's a gentle lullaby nonetheless. At least, he makes it to sound like one, with the tone of his voice, the texture of his lilt.

'It goes like this, the fourth the fifth, the minor falls, the major lifts...the baffled king composing Hallelujah.'

He nuzzles against Inigo's hair, singing against it now, muffling his words, but he doesn't care at all. He sheds his shyness all at once, feeling the emotion flood his heart, knowing the weight in his arms is that of a home complete.

So what's a song to commemorate that, though he is far from the performer to do it justice?

'Hallelujah...Hallelujah...Hallelujah...Hallelujah.'

Despite all his insisting over here, Inigo isn't truly sure whether or not Roland is going to give in. If he won't just dig his heels into the sand and just insist on going to sleep without it.

But as Inigo lies there in wait, he can slowly feel it. The rumble in Roland's chest, first accompanied by a soft sound before it grows a bit louder. A song. One Inigo obviously doesn't recognize, as new as he still is to this world he's found himself in with his new family, but it doesn't matter one bit.

Because what matters is the sound itself. Just the sound of Roland's low soft tone, just the vibrations of his chest as Inigo still leans against it. All of it is nice and soothing regardless of what the sound is actually about. It's just about this - finding safety and warmth inside of his father's arms, soothed to sleep by his father's voice.

And it works. Inigo sure is listening at first, but as Roland keeps singing and eventually checks up on Inigo, he'll find that the boy has completely drifted off to sleep right then and there.

Here, if you're still interested in continuing!

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