The Only Exception - {TOM HOLLAND}

T W O

The first day had been fine; Tom was there the whole time, and Ezra had absolutely enjoyed every second of it. He'd even protested when you had to leave, and the promise of your return the next day barely quelled him. The image of his lower lip jutting out in a big pout still made your chest ache.

The next few days went on the same way, but every time it seemed to get easier and easier for Ezra to get into the habit of you coming in the morning and leaving at bedtime. Being in that routine was nice, and everyone was settling into it.

Which is why Tom leaving for majority of the day is so nerve wracking.

You're sitting at the table, with Ezra in the chair next to you sitting perched on his booster seat so he's the right height. With a knife and fork you cut up his pancakes so they're much more bite sized, because this boy tends to shove way too much food in his mouth at once.

You slide the plate in front of him when everything is sized down.

"This!" Ezra demands and points to his pancakes.

"Pancake," you say as you do the sign for pancake, which is just your hand scooping then flipping as if a spatula flipped a pancake, "you try."

Ezra attempts it in all seriousness, his brows furrowed in concentration, as he mimics the sign.

"Good job," you grin and do it a few more times with him.

Ezra is beaming, doing the sign with one hand as he takes his fork and eats with the other. You laugh at this, eyes flickering up when footsteps approach. Tom leans over the back of Ezra's chair and kisses his son's head before making his way to the kitchen.

"What are you signing now?" Tom asks.

"Pancakes!" Ezra says with a syrup sticky smile.

"And there are some for you too," you add, pointing to the plate covered with aluminum foil to keep it warm. Tom looks down at the plate and you note the small smile on his face as he goes to unwrap it. You smile back, even if he doesn't catch it, before turning your attention back to Ezra. You make sure he doesn't get syrup everywhere, even if he still manages to get it on his forehead.

You settle him on the counter when he's done, placing the plate in the sink before using a wet cloth to wipe off his face and hands.

"I do it now," Ezra says, making grabby hands for the cloth.

"Of course, you can do it too," you nod and hand him the cloth.

What you don't expect is him to grab your hand before you pull away, and he wipes messily at your hands. With a laugh you lean forward so he can get your face too. Ezra is very proud of himself, giggling when you take a fake bite out of his hand.

"Don't eat me!" Ezra gasps, yanking his hand away.

"But you're sooo sweet!" You tell him, tickling his stomach, and Ezra howls with laughter legs kicking.

You flinch out of the way before he kicks you, only stepping back to let him down. Once the boy is on his feet he bolts to the living room, screaming for Tessa to follow him. The pup, stationary at Tom's feet, jumps up to follow the little boy. It leaves both you and Tom in the kitchen.

"Are you sure I shouldn't call someone over to help out?" Tom asks softly.

You glance over to him, leaning against the countertop, "if you do he'll probably assume that's the norm. Eventually it'll just be him and I for periods of time. We should be fine."

Tom exhales audibly, his lower lip caught between his teeth, "you're sure?"

"Yes Tom, I'm sure."