A/N: I was holding off on posting this even when I finished a day early, because it's for an occasion. XD

Some stories will receive updates, and I'm writing new ones too. Until then, have some CLuCLu family fluff. And to ZBlader who left a review on Lover and asked if I'll write about teenaged Alexander, I will at some point. XD When I get ideas ;)

Thank you for your time. 'Til the next story~ ;)

Fatherhood

"What happened?"

His voice quivered with restrained fury, steely eyes drilling into his child who fidgeted uneasily underneath his steely gaze.

Appearing thoroughly chastised, Alexander didn't attempt to make excuses or a single sound as he bore witness to his father's frustration, and anger. Papa was scary when he was angry, and the man stared him down now, waiting for an honest answer that Alexander was too afraid to give.

Papa would just be mad at him, wouldn't he?

"I need the truth, Alexander."

Jumping at the sound of his voice, the boy scuffed his feet on the polished wooden floors, trying to still the quivering of his chin.

"I was jush playing, Papa…"

"Just. Playing?" Lelouch seethed, violet eyes cutting to the shards of a shattered tumbler on the floor, and important papers half-eaten by the flames stacked on a messy pile on the floor — just barely salvaged from being reduced to useless ash.

His son didn't know any better, and had no idea just how valuable the burned manuscripts were. Lelouch couldn't fault him entirely for it. But there were rules. He had enforced them from the moment his son could understand a little bit of adult words. And now, just the thought of having to rewrite an entire second draft that was due tonight at eleven, was enough to make him want to tear his own hair out.

"WHO—" Lelouch huffed and shook his head, trying to quell the rage that threatened to spill from his tone. "Who gave you permission to play in my study?" He repeated in a much calmer voice, though it didn't lack venom.

Alexander blinked once. Twice. "No one."

Lelouch scoffed. "Do you remember the rules, Alexander?"

Searching for a bit of sympathy, the boy dared to meet his father's gaze and found no shred of it there. Just steely resolve and an icy expression that made him want to run out of the room and seek refuge in Mommy.

Nevertheless, he was determined to prove that he was still obedient, and so answered, I— I'm not allowed to play in Papa's study."

"The rules were clear, were they not?" Lelouch bit out through gritted teeth. "Do you want to try and give me excuses?"

Maybe today was a bad day to play 'Wizard' with Mr. Tusks, Moongkee, and Lancelot… He didn't even get to answer Papa's question.

"No? Then leave the room." Lelouch watched his son hesitate. He had an entire story to rewrite, a mess in his office to clean, and Alexander's presence wasn't helping his temper abate.

Swallowing thickly, the boy answered with a meek, "Yes, Papa…" and left the study, sniffling as he tried to in vain to suppress stubborn tears.

Feeling defeated, Lelouch picked up a scrap of a printed document, half-burned. He lamented over the loss of his hard work and many hours spent bent over the desk with fingers flying across clacking keys. But most of all, he cursed the fireplace's auto-light system.

He needed to speak to Alexander too, after he figured this out and called the publishing company to tell them about this mishap.

vVvVv

Alexander cared less about how undignified he looked as he hurriedly tackled the stairs to get to the kitchen with backpack in tow. After leaving, he would terribly miss Mommy's cooking (but not Papa's because Papa hated him), but Alexander saw no reason to stay.

Why would you want to stay with people who hated you?

Sniffling, he stumbled into the kitchen with Lancelot in one hand and the backpack dangling from the other.

"Are you heading somewhere, Princeling?"

C.C. had been carefully watching her three-year old from the moment she spied him hurtling down the stairs as if his life depended on it. He barely even noticed her when he came into the kitchen with his favorite toy and his favorite backpack. Alexander's cheeks and nose were flushed red as he stared up at her defiantly. A resolute face that was so similar to another she knew.

"I'm running awee." He declared, donning a brave face that his mother easily saw through.

Releasing a sigh, C.C. closed her laptop and left her perch on one of the stools. Crouching before her dejected three-year old and his meager set of belongings, she put her hands on her knees as she asked, "Will you tell me why?"

"'Cuz Papa hate me."

Oh, her little Prince…

She instinctively welcomed him into her arms when he ran to her just as the dam broke and tears streamed down his cheeks. Muffled sobs and strained hiccups wracked his body as he hugged her closer with all his might, mumbling brokenly that he 'don't wanna leave, but Papa hate me'.

The silk blouse was wrinkled and the material was stained with tears, but C.C. could care less as she rose from the floor with her son still in her arms. He was much heavier now, and she found herself straining a tiny bit to lift him into the air.

C.C. claimed a seat in the living room, with her son on her lap, rocking him to and fro as if he were no more than a year old. He told her the story in his distinct way of pronouncing words, tried to explain himself, and then backtracking to apologize because 'I no want Mommy to hate me too.' He didn't understand the entire reason for his father's anger and reprimanding, and that's what made him cry harder.

She let him talk as much as he wanted — let him express himself in his own way as she kept him sheltered in her arms, sobs interrupting his speech every now and then.

"I hate Papa too." Alexander grumbled into his mother's chest, a fist pushed against his chin as he glared at the other armchair in the living room.

"Alexander, don't be like that." She crooned, pulling back a bit to gauge the expression on his face.

"But he hate me…" The boy insisted, folded his arms across his chest, and made the motion of stomping his feet in frustration though he sat on his mother's lap. "I don't wuv Papa 'nymore."

"That's not fair, Little Prince. Papa loves you so much."

One of the throw pillows landed on the floor as Alexander huffed and ignored his mother's light chiding.

"Why people wuv Papa? He's mean. He don't wuv me. He hate me."

Smiling to herself, C.C. rubbed little circles on his back as she dried his cheeks some more, and kissed the side of his face.

"I love him… So much, in fact. You wouldn't be here if I didn't love him." Her son blinked at her, confusion all over his face, and it only prompted C.C. to continue speaking. No use telling him things he wouldn't comprehend, and shouldn't know yet. "He does not hate you, Alexander. Mommy promises you, he doesn't."

"But he—"

"Was angry at you?"

The three-year old nodded sheepishly, toying with locks of green hair that fell in front of his face.

"Of course he was, Little Prince. You disobeyed him."

Alexander frowned, assessing his mother's face as he made to protest, "But—"

"My Love, there is a reason why you are forbidden from playing in Papa's study. We don't make rules without a reason. We do it for you — to keep you free from harm."

C.C. went on to explain the basic function of Papa's study at home, and why it was so important. Through it all, Alexander begrudgingly listened and guiltily remembered how he'd carelessly shattered something fragile on Papa's desk and burned papers in the fireplace because he was trying to do a spell.

"You told me you broke some things in Papa's study today." C.C. continued and beheld the shock on her son's face, because unknown to Mommy, she read Alexander's mind. "None of Papa's things in the study are toys. You could have hurt yourself. Have you apologized to your father?"

Alexander shied away, trying to curl up into a tight little ball in his mother's arms as he mumbled a, "No…"

"You and Papa need to speak to each other again. Especially because it's Father's Day tomorrow, remember? And we can't celebrate as a family if you don't want to talk to Papa and if he's upset."

At her suggestion, his face seemed to drain of color and his body trembled a little. Was it guilt that made her son react this way or sheer terror? C.C. doubted the latter because she didn't hear yelling, and Lelouch would never do anything to harm his son physically or psychologically.

"I don' wanna…"

"And why not?" She probed, rocking her three-year old ever so gently.

"'Cuz I— I… Will Papa listen?" Purple eyes stared up at C.C. begging for some form of reassurance.

Knowing exactly what he needed to hear, she smiled sweetly at her precious little boy and kissed his forehead. "Shall Mommy talk to Papa first?"

Grinning, he nodded — comforted by the knowledge of his mother's intervention. Because if anyone could erase Papa's anger, it had to be Mommy, right?

"I promise you then."

vVvVv

C.C. spent the better part of her afternoon entertaining her child — watching cartoons with him, answering his many curious questions, and amusing herself with his antics. He'd been laughing so hard and so much that he forgot all about his rift with Papa. Well, until she brought up suggestions for things-to-do tomorrow.

Her son was quieter and more reserved after she asked him what he wanted for lunch and supper, and if they should leave the house as a family for some dessert.

He gave her only the barest of answers, and C.C. knew exactly why. Still, she kindly suggested he continue with his plans to give Papa a Father's Day card, because she was sure he would love and appreciate it — especially if it came from Alexander. When her son asked what he should write on it, C.C. told him he could write whatever he wanted, so long as the message was all about being 'thankful'.

The boy hesitated quite a lot, but still obeyed, and C.C. left him in his room, his hands busy with crayons and colored markers as he wrote on a blank sheet of white paper.

Two quick knocks vibrated against the wood as the door creaked open and Lelouch beheld his wife standing at the threshold to his office with her hip against the jamb. Alexander would have run to her, so needless to say, he knew what this was going to be about.

He stopped typing away on the computer long enough to look at her closely. "Are you going to tell me off for being so stern on him?"

"No…" Uncrossing her folded arms, she strode forward into the warmth of the study, pointedly ignoring the neatly stacked pile of half-burned and printed manuscripts near the side of her husband's desk. "I agreed with you. It just sounded harsh to him because he's three."

Heaving a sigh, Lelouch pushed his laptop away and met C.C.'s unflinching gaze. "Where is he?"

"In his room reading books."

"He deliberately did something wrong, C.C."

Closing the distance between them, she parked herself on his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. One of her hands comfortingly brushed the ends of his hair at his nape.

"Yes, and he knows that now. Still, your brief opinion of him is fact in his heart." Her breath tickled his chin. "He wants to apologize…"

The father needed to speak to his son as well, if only to mend the bent relationship — no matter how small the dispute.

The couple left the study together as Lelouch decided he needed a break from rewriting. It wasn't that late yet, so a quick check on his son wouldn't hurt. And perhaps, if the boy was still awake, they could make amends. Alexander deserved to know that Lelouch wasn't that angry at him anymore.

Yes, having to redo three weeks' worth of work in a couple of hours would be exhausting, but it was secondary to his son's well-being and their parent-child relationship.

His son made a mistake. But then again, all children were susceptible to mistakes. Hell, even adults aren't immune, and in the worst of times, make even worse mistakes than the children. As C.C. told him, the mishaps weren't worth raging over. Perhaps gentle correction was more apt.

Knocking quietly, the father nudged the door open to find his son soundly asleep, with the lights still on and an open picture-book splayed across his tummy.

Lelouch's lips curled up into a fond smile. He tread quietly into his son's room, closing the book gently before putting it away. He tucked Alexander into bed and left him with his night light on and a kiss on his forehead, all the while promising that all would be good tomorrow.

vVvVv

They always sat down together for breakfast. And while most days, the atmosphere was usually chipper and filled with warmth, today it was thick with trepidation and a lot of hesitance — the majority of which emanated from a reserved little boy, just barely picking at his cereal.

C.C. smiled at her son encouragingly as Lelouch came back from the kitchen with bacon and two omelets on a plate.

"Papa…" He murmured, twiddling his fingers as he stole glances at the man who gave him kind smiles and protective hugs. He didn't give his father time to say anything else as he squeezed his eyes shut and blurted it all out in one go. "I'm sowee for disobeying you, Papa. A-and for breaking the rules. It won' happen again, I pwomise!"

Alexander didn't see his father's expression soften as he leaned closer to his son and stroked small circles on his back.

"Well, will you forgive me for upsetting you?"

Little hands crept lower across his face, and Alexander stared up at his father with tear-filled eyes. Why was Papa asking for forgiveness from him? He glanced at his mother for reassurance and caught her answering smile.

"Yes…" Alexander consented with a tiny nod and a little sob.

"Thank you, Little Prince."

Sobbing and crying in relief, Alexander launched himself into arms that would always remind him of home. It felt like forever. He'd woken up this morning, worrying about Papa and if the man would ever look at him the same way again. But then again, Mommy did promise, didn't she? And Mommy always followed through with her promises.

"I wuv you, Papa." Alexander mumbled into Lelouch's shoulder.

"I love you more."

With her chin cradled on the heel of her palm, C.C. smiled at her two boys, happy for the mending of the tiny rift between them.

"Happy Papa's day."

Alexander greeted his father sheepishly, presenting a hand-made card covered in a three-year-old's sketches and colors. Her husband accepted the token with a flourish and a laugh, saying how he nearly forgot what day it was today. And as if no misunderstanding happened in the first place, she watched her son laugh and Lelouch joke all throughout breakfast.

Perhaps today wasn't going to be so bad after all.

In fact, dare she say, it could only get better.

Hopefully…

vVvVv

C.C. had a confession to make…

She'd done something similar before. She'd had her first time already, so there was really no reason to be so overly anxious about her news. He was happy — if not a little reserved — the first time, so why not for the second?

But what if he didn't—

Shaking her head, she pushed all manner of worries to the side, locking up the devious monsters behind their cages. She cleared her throat as she finished donning her camisole and tap shorts. The chilliness of the tiles seeped through the underside of her feet, and she was thankful for the distraction.

They'd had such a wonderful day. Father's day was spent engaging in family activities, and they left the house to wander the park and have dessert at a cafe that served her son's favorite pastries and confectioneries. Lelouch even mentioned how much he enjoyed today, and he and Alexander played a round of party games in the living room — even if his stamina failed him miserably.

It would be a shame to ruin everything…

Still—

"What are you thinking of, C.C.?"

He reached for her still form as she stood at the edge of their bed, lost in thought and loosely holding on to a hair comb. Prying the object from her fingers, he kicked the blankets and the duvet back as he coaxed his wife to sit between his legs. The mattress dipped a little more when she accommodated his request.

Lelouch let her stew in her thoughts for a little, while she relished the feel of his fingers alternating with the comb as he ran both through her hair.

"It's your special day." She finally said when he finished combing her hair.

The skin at her neck tingled where his lips touched her. He stopped her from saying anything else, and she let him trail kisses along the side of her neck, while his hands smoothed along the fabric of her camisole, sneakily slipping underneath the hem. Indulging in the privacy of their bedroom, she turned her head to the side and let her lips slide against his. A heart thumped quickly against her back as her own sped up to match the pace, shifting closer to her husband to accept every ounce of affection he poured into her being with sweet yet sultry kiss.

It would have escalated into something more, and she was hesitant to call a halt to the amorous exchange, but his hand skimming over her bare abdomen reminded her of what she was supposed to be telling him — right before he distracted her with his kisses, of course.

Pulling away from each other with a soft smack, she nuzzled his cheek.

"I have one more surprise for you." She whispered, fingering the long sleeve of his nighttime sweater.

The hand over her bare stomach stilled, but he still brushed his thumbs along the underside of her breasts. What a fitting way to hold her.

"C—"

Releasing a breath, she ignored the mirth displayed on his face, and said, "Congratulations for doing it a second time."

Lelouch stiffened behind her, thumbs continuing to trace languid circles at the top of her stomach. She couldn't possibly mean what he was thinking— "Y-You're…"

C.C.'s bright eyes confirmed what he needed to know as she placed a finger beneath his chin and tilted his head up to look into his eyes.

She relished in the surprise and wonder on his face as she enunciated every syllable, letting the word roll flawlessly out of her tongue.

"Pregnant."

"Another one?" His voice went up a pitch, sucking in a breath.

Could he not believe it?

Still smiling, C.C. cocked an eyebrow and kissed the corner of his jaw, speaking into his skin, "Do you not want another one?"

How could he have missed it? The subtle glow of pregnancy on C.C…

A smile slowly crept across his face, overcome with tender emotions — the very same ones that urged him to lean in and steal a kiss from his wife's enticing lips.

"How far along are you?"

C.C. swayed back and forth between his arms, stroking the backs of his hands staying staying still yet gentle atop her bare flesh. "Just 4 weeks. I wanted to tell you first before we could go to a doctor's office together and have the first appointment."

"Quite the unexpected surprise."

"For me and you both, although when it does come down to it, we shouldn't be surprised."

A flush stole across his face, the tips of his ears coloring a beet red — as red as a particular reindeer's nose. She laughed and kissed his cheek.

"Happy Father's Day, Lelouch…"

A/N: A lot of shitty things are going on in the world. But even so, don't forget what this June 21st is about.

To the men who raised us, Happy Father's Day! :)