Then adult-Wren surfaced just enough to tilt my head up, to see his storm-gray eyes gone dark with want, to press my mouth to his.
The kiss exploded through me like lightning finding ground. Every nerve ending lit up with yes and finally and more. His hands came up to grip my arms, and for a moment—just a moment—he kissed me back with all the desperate hunger he'd been containing for days.
I could taste his need, feel it through the bond like a living thing. My hands pulled at his shirt, trying to get closer, trying to find skin, trying to—
He caught my wrists. Held them still. Pulled back from the kiss even though I could feel through the bond how much it cost him, like tearing himself in half.
"No." The word came out broken but firm. "You're not fully here, and we can't—"
"Please, Daddy, please—" And there it was, the tell. Daddy. Even desperate, even half-adult, part of me was still Little. Still vulnerable. Still not capable of the kind of consent this needed.
He stood, carrying me with him, and I wrapped around him like a vine, still trying to get closer. But he was walking toward the discipline corner, and Little Me understood that even if Big Me was still trying to kiss his neck.
"No!" The protest came out young, confused. "Don't want time-out! Want Daddy!"
"You need to settle." He set me down on the cushion, gentle but firm, and when I tried to get up, he pressed a careful hand on my shoulder. "Stay."
"Daddy's being mean!" Tears came then, frustrated Little tears because I didn't understand why Daddy was putting me in the corner when all I wanted was for the hurty feelings to stop. "I didn't do anything bad!"
"You're not in trouble," he said, kneeling so we were eye level. His hand came up to wipe my tears with impossible gentleness. "But you're stuck between Big and Little, and that's not safe. Daddy needs you to be one or the other, and right now, Little is safer."
I hiccupped through my tears, confused. Big and Little? I was just me, wasn't I? Except no, there were two me's in my head, and they were fighting, making everything blurry and wrong.
"Look at me," Daddy said, and his voice had that special tone that made everything else fade out. "Just me. Not the mark, not the scary things. Just Daddy."
I looked. His eyes were the color of storms but soft, like rain that waters gardens instead of floods them. He was breathing slow and steady, and without meaning to, I started matching him. In. Out. In. Out.
"Good girl. Now, tell me about Stormy. What color are his wings?"
"S-silver," I said, the familiar question pulling me toward simpler thoughts. "With darker bits on the edges like clouds when they're thinking about raining."
"And his eyes?"
"Buttons. The gray kind from Daddy's sewing box. One's higher than the other but that makes him special, not wrong."
"That's right. Stormy's perfect just how he is." His hand moved to stroke my hair, careful and soothing. "What did you paint yesterday?"
"Purple-brown muddy but Daddy said it was beautiful anyway." The adult thoughts were getting quieter, sinking back down where they belonged. "Made handprints."
"I hung them up to dry. They're on the wall by the window so they catch morning sun."
We kept talking—simple questions, simple answers. What I had for lunch. Which puzzle pieces were hardest to find. How clouds tasted according to Daddy's silly stories. Bit by bit, Big Me went back to sleep, taking all her complicated wants and fears with her.
"Better?" Daddy asked after the hourglass had run through twice.
I nodded, rubbing my eyes with my fists. "Sleepy."
"Then let's get you back to bed." He picked me up, and this time I just cuddled against his shoulder, no confusing wants, just Little Me being carried by Daddy who kept me safe.
He tucked me back in bed, reuniting me with Stormy who'd been waiting patiently on the floor. The dragon went straightunder my chin where he belonged, keeping guard against more bad dreams.
"Daddy?" I said as he pulled up my blankets.
"Yes, little one?"
"The scary thing tried to make me Big."
"I know." His hand smoothed my hair back from my forehead. "But you're safe now. Little and safe and mine to protect."
