Ivan (agere cg)

The ticking of the digital timer on Ivan’s phone was the only peaceful sound in the room, and it was about to go off.

Ivan rubbed his tired eyes, careful not to wake the heavy, warm bundle currently draped over his shoulder. It had been a brutal afternoon. First, there was the catastrophic "tummy time" attempt, where Till had glared at him with such pure, unadulterated hatred that Ivan genuinely thought his time was up. Then came the feeding tantrum, leaving Till’s face covered in mashed food—a messy sight that Ivan secretly found entirely endearing, even if his own shirt paid the price.

Speaking of his clothes, Ivan sighed softly, looking down at his sleeve. A fresh wet spot and a tiny tear in the fabric marked where Till had aggressively nibbled on him earlier. It matched the ruined, chewed-up pacifier currently sitting on the nightstand—an apology gift that Till had destroyed within minutes.

The timer on Ivan's phone suddenly vibrated against his hip. Time for a check. Because Till would rather die than admit he was wet when regressed, Ivan had to be careful. He hated making Till feel embarrassed.

"Hey, sweetheart..." Ivan murmured, his voice a low, raspy whisper from severe lack of sleep. He shifted Till gently, supporting his weight. "Can I check your diaper real quick? Just a quick look, okay? I promise."

Till just let out a sleepy, defiant whine, buried his face deeper into Ivan's neck, and tightened his grip on Ivan's collar. Around them, the floor was an absolute minefield of plushies, rattles, and blocks—half of which Till had never even touched, but heaven forbid Ivan tried to clear them out.

With Till completely refusing to let go or go to his crib, Ivan sighed, a fond, exhausted smile tugging at his lips. He started rocking on his heels, softly humming a low lullaby while reaching for a warm bottle on the counter.

"Still restless, huh? Come on, let's get you fed and into a warm bath. You'll feel better, I promise..."