Thomas' POV:

Today is Philip's 9th birthday. I've been working with him all day to write a poem to show Alexander. Philip has definitely picked up his love of writing. He wanted to show off, but needed a little help. While we did that, Alex spent the day with Mary, playing board games and at one point attempting to bake cupcakes. The baking didn't go well, but they tried.

Philip's poem is finished and he's ready to show it to Alex. Since we're fused, he's in the next room over. Philip takes his piece of paper and runs into the room, practically bursting with pride. "Daddy! Daddy, look!"

Alex spins around in his chair, Mary on his lap. She's been with us for 3 years now and Alex and I both cried the first time she called us Daddy and Papa. "Go for it buddy!" Alex says encouragingly. "We'd love to hear."

Mary shakes her head. "I don't," she says, jumping off Alex's lap and walking towards the door.

I stop her, sticking my leg out in her way "Woah there, sweetie. Your brother wants you to hear his poem."

"I don't want to hear his poem!" Mary whines, trying to dodge my leg.

I squat down to her, still blocking the exit. "Hey, Philip worked really hard on his poem today and wants you to hear it," I say, trying to convince her. She shakes her head and tries to dodge me again but I stop her. "I'll make you a deal," I offer. Mary looks intrigued. "Listen to Philip's poem and I'll help you make a better batch of cupcakes."

Alexander scoffs but Mary agrees and jumps back into his lap to listen to Philip. I give my son an encouraging nod as he starts. "My- my name is Philip. I am a p-poet. I wrote this poem just to show it, and I just turned 9... you can write rhymes but you can't write mine!"

Alexander gasps, pretended to be offended. "Whaaaaat?"

Philip giggles and continues. "I practice French and play the piano with my Papa, I like to sing but I'd rather be a writer~" He pronounces 'writer' like 'writa' so it almost rhymes, just like we practiced. "My Daddy's boss wants to give him a higher rank, un deux trois quatre cinq!"

Alexander's ever growing smile breaks into a proud laugh. "Bravo!" He exclaims and Mary and I clap. "That was amazing, Philip! Happy birthday, buddy." Philip smiles shyly and Alex moves his leg so Philip can sit on his lap too. He hugs our adorable children, kissing their cheeks. "I love you both, so much," he tells them, kissing them again when they try to squirm away.

They run off to make mischief and Alex scoots to one side of the chair, rolling to toward me and pulling me down half on top of him. "I'm going to crush you," I chuckle, trying to get up.

He pulls me back, wrapping his arms around me and stubbornly not letting go. "I'll be fine," he murmurs, leaning in and kissing me. "I love you," he says, kissing me again. "I'm not usually a cliche person, but believe me, I love you more than you could ever know."

"That sounds pretty cliche to me, Alex," I tease, planting a kiss on his nose. "But I love it when you get all lovey-dovey."

"I'll have to do it less often."

I run my fingers through his messy hair, accidentally getting them tangled there. "Don't even think about it," I murmur, pulling him into a sweet kiss. He savors it until I pull away, smirking. "I promised Mary a new, better tasting batch of cupcakes," I say, standing up and walking towards the door. "Come on now, I can't go far without you and I'd hate to leave my daughter waiting."

He shakes his head and stands up, intertwining our fingers and following me to the kitchen. "Bastard."