Bridgerton Imagines

A La Claire Fontaine // S.B. [drabble]

Pairing: Simon Basset x Fem!Reader

Warnings: female pronouns, pregnancy, talk of pregnancy, babies, lullabies, children, marriage, fluff, female reader, use of 'wife', use of 'mother'.

Word count: 800+ (I'm sorry this isn't longer!)

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It had been the cold that had woken you. Not the empty space beside you, but rather the temperature of the covers and the pillow that pulled you from your sleep. Simon must have been up for a while, you thought to yourself as you drew back the blanket from your body.

You don't think as your feet lead you to where Simon would be. There was only one spot in the house where Simon would be at this time in the morning: the nursery. Simon must have heard your son crying out in the night; rather than waking you, he must have chosen to let you sleep instead, knowing full well how the baby would demand your attention from morning until night the following day.

A surprise addition to your family; neither of you had made the decision to have children, both thinking it was perhaps too early in a marriage to think of such things, but then the doctor pronounced your pregnancy after what you thought was a bout of the stomach flu.

It had taken some adjusting to. The idea of becoming a mother; of Simon becoming a father. However, at the first sign of a bump forming, your son had known nothing but unconditional love. As much as you adore the child now, you cannot help but miss the days where Simon would lay with his hands on your bump, talking about any and everything to his son and heir.

As you wander closer to the nursery, your hand hovers over where there was once a bump. A bittersweet smile crosses your face when you think of all that had happened in those nine months. Shaking your head before the tears begin to fall, you arrive at the nursery.

Your son is wrapped in his father's arms; Simon making sure to support his son's head so there is no discomfort. Simon wanders around the room, no real destination in sight as he rocks his son back to sleep.

You pause at the doorframe, not wanting to interrupt this special moment between father and son. You quieten your breath as much as you can when Simon begins to hum the tune of an old lullaby; you press a hand to your mouth when your husband begins to sing.

"À la claire fontaine,
M'en allant promener
J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle
Que je m'y suis baigné

Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
Jamais je ne t'oublierai,"

You remain as silent as you can be as Simon continues to sing to your son. You hear your son stir, cooing at the sound of his father's voice before lapsing back into a shattered silence. At such a young age, there was very little your son did beyond sleep and eat.

"I know that you're there," Simon calls out by the time he finishes singing. He had known you were there before he had even begun to sing; had heard the creak of the floorboard under your foot, but you were trying hard to give him a moment with his son, so who was he to bring attention to it.

"And here I thought I was being discreet," You laugh, revealing yourself from behind the door.

"My darling, if there is one thing you are not, it is discreet."

You gasp, feigning insult as you turn your nose away from the love of your life. Simon stifles a bark of laughter; trying his best not to wake the sleeping babe in his arms.

"I couldn't find my two favourite men," You offer in explanation, stepping further into the room, glancing between your husband and your son.

"Here we are," Simon whispers, eyes focused intently on his son. In the many babies he had met, he had never seen one with such a head of hair. His son had entered the world with a shock of dark hair, unlike anything he had ever seen before. His mother-in-law had told him that the baby would most likely lose it as he starts to grow, but so far, not a strand had fallen.

"Here you are," You repeat in a voice as soft as Simon's. You finger the blanket wrapped around your darling boy; half making sure he is warm, half checking he is real.

"He really is perfect, isn't he?" You wonder, voice awed as you watch your son yawn. You didn't think it was possible for you to love someone as much as you loved your husband; the passion and love you shared with Simon was so wholly encompassing that it did not seem plausible for you to love another. However, when your son was laid on your chest mere seconds after being born, your heart seemed to stretch to make room for him.

"He is. He's perfect," Simon confirms, just as awed by your son as you.