The characters and situations in this story belong to Christopher Nolan, Legendary Pictures, Syncopy, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.
The opinions expressed by characters in this story may or may not be those of the author.
A quick fic stemming from a mutual challenge with Cincoflex.
The one good thing about insomnia, Dom reflected, was avoiding the semi-traditional celebratory breakfast.
Instead, he was sipping coffee at the kitchen table when his children woke, tumbling sleep-flushed and noisy out of their rooms to find him and present him with moist kisses and cries of "Happy Father's Day!"
He returned the kisses lavishly, and James and Philippa piled into his lap, elbowing each other in rivalry for what was rapidly becoming too little space. Dom encircled them both, hugging them close in a moment of bittersweet rapture.
"We were gonna make you breakfast but Gran'pere said we should go to Waffle World instead an' I have four whole dollars," Philippa told him in one un-comma'd rush of breath. "James only has two quarters."
Her little brother bristled. "They got bears on 'em," he protested.
Dom had to laugh. "Well, that sounds like it might be enough." He glanced over their heads at his wife's parents, standing robed in the doorway and looking on with a fond sadness.
He understood their grief, even if his own was different. There was no one left to wish Miles a happy Father's Day, even as the children could do no more on Mother's Day than bring flowers to Mal's grave.
But life continues. It was a cliche, but a worthy one, and Dom could face that long progression of days, now that he had his children back. He gave them one more squeeze. "If you're buying breakfast then you'd better get dressed," he told them. "But you have to let me drive."
They shrieked with laughter and squirmed down to chase each other back to their rooms. Dom snickered, and stood, sharing a smile with his in-laws.
"I'll take care of the tip," Mal's mother said dryly. "And perhaps you can loan James fifty cents, so he need not spend his precious bears?"
Dom grinned wider. "That works for me." He poured them both coffee before retreating to his own room to change.
There would be cards later, he knew, made of construction paper and crayon, and possibly a gift or two as well, and Miles and his wife would see to it that breakfast was paid for without damaging Philippa's pride. And Dom would savor every moment, because he was there to celebrate this year.
He was home, where he belonged.