Notes: Not quite a new chapter of "In Any Other World" but that should be coming this weekend. Hopefully, in the meantime, this piece of fluff will give you cavities. It's probably a bit unbelievable, but Christine and Erik deserve fluffy happiness dang it!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to someone who is not me. This is all just for fun and I promise I'll put everyone back when I'm done playing. :)

Erik's eyes gleamed as he saw a flash of brown curls dart around the corner. There was no hiding from him now. She had run into the sitting parlour and was cowering behind some curtains; he could clearly see her slippered feet beneath the heavy material. He snuck as quietly as he could into the room and stood before her, whipping the curtains open with a flourish. The girl let out a startled shriek as Erik chuckled slightly and said, "Found you, my dear! And now you are mine!" He made a move to scoop her up into his arms before something heavy landed on his back and arms wound around his neck, nearly strangling him.

"Release her, you fiend!" The little boy shouted from his father's back as Erik reached around and adjusted little Gustave's grip on him so he was not gasping for breath any longer. He could hear Christine's smothered giggling behind her hand, from where she sat on the lounge, reading her book.

"Never!" Erik cried, grabbing the four year old boy and swinging him around, placing him on the ground in front of him. The little boy thrust dramatically with his sword, the wooden blade going through the open space of his father's chest and arm. Erik gasped dramatically and collapsed to the ground, groaning and writhing on the floor as his son sat on his back in triumph. He heard his daughter, Marguerite, run to her mother; her giggles clear even from across the room. Stilling, he didn't so much as breathe until Gustave cautiously got up and poked him gently in the side.

"Father?" Gustave whispered, worried that he had actually injured his playmate in their game. "Papa?" he muttered, kneeling down to look at Erik's face. Suddenly, the older man's eyes snapped open and he rolled onto his back, grabbing Gustave around the waist and tickling him relentlessly. The boy screamed out in delighted surprise, squirming as his father continued to torment him.

Christine, holding little Marguerite's hand, came up to the two boys and chuckled, shaking her head. "Gustave, time for your nap," she called out over the noise of her little boy's giggles. Erik immediately stopped and Gustave collapsed against his chest, still giggling and trembling from his father's surprise attack. Christine held out her other hand to her son and he quickly scrambled up, grabbing a hold of her. "Perhaps your Papa should take a nap as well." She shot Erik a wicked smile as she knelt down and stage whispered to their children, "After all he is quite the old man now."

Erik growled at her, sitting up from his position on the floor, and then groaned slightly with the effort. Christine grinned in delight at the confirmation of her words and then winked to her husband, turning to take the two children to their nursery for their naps.

He got up and brushed his hands across his backside, feeling quite disheveled from their little game. Not for the first time, he was glad that Christine had insisted he be maskless at all times while they were at home, for it surely would have been lost in the roughhousing that had just occurred. He had grown to quite enjoy these little games of make-believe that his twins so loved to indulge in. At first it had been difficult and he had resented the fact that he was always relegated to the role of evil sorcerer or monster or dragon or whatever other evil creature his children had thought up, until Christine explained to him that little boys always wanted to be the hero. He had felt silly for the next few weeks, thinking that his children could have possibly viewed him as anything other than their beloved Papa.

Sitting at the piano in the centre of the room, he began playing the lullaby he had composed for his two little angels when they had been born. He felt, rather than heard or saw, Christine enter the room once more and changed the tune to the opening strains of the song that he had composed for their wedding. He smiled as he felt her sit beside him and he looked over at her, his heart warming as she leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed contentedly. "They are absolutely impossible to get to bed after you have played with them, Erik," she murmured.

He chuckled but didn't say anything. He would never apologize for acting like any other father would, playing with his children before their naptime. It was a dream that he never thought he would be able to indulge in and he never took a moment of it for granted. He finished his song and turned towards her, lightly kissing her temple and smiling as she then lifted her face, silently pleading for a true kiss. He was more than happy to oblige.

They sat on the piano bench, indulging in each other for a few moments before Christine broke away, lightly caressing his chest. Erik smiled at her. "I think that perhaps I do need a nap, my sweet Christine. What about you?"

She giggled and blushed prettily. He couldn't help but love that even after five and a half years of marriage he could still evoke such reactions from his pretty little wife. "I do not know how much rest we would be getting, Erik," she said, attempting to be serious but the gleam in her eyes gave her away fully.

He sighed, mock suffering, and gathered her close. "I suppose that I will sacrifice some of my beauty sleep then," he said, sniffing the air as his wife stared briefly at him in shock and then dissolved into giggles. It surprised them both that he could make casual fun of his face now, but it showed how truly far he had come. Christine stood and held out her hand, which he took without hesitation. He would follow her anywhere, his Angel.

Especially if she was leading them to their bed.