Hi everyone! Yes it is I the infamous and wonderfully mysterious (stated with little ego) Opera777. For those who do not know me, "Welcome, nice to meet you." * wave* For those of you who do know me ( thank you it is nice to be remembered) Howz it goin? I am back from reality for this little ficlett, well, it's just a one shot. For those of you reading Amour a par Amour I just realised how many chapters I haven't posted. I humbly and desperately beg for your forgiveness. I am really really sorry and as soon as I have a spare moment I will post, I promise. For those of you who are caught up ( in chapters I mean) I am working on it, and it really is never far from my mind. And as soon as I find that train of thought I lost somewhere just before my son was born. I will be posting like mad I promise. Well now that is enough from me.

On with the show!

hugs opera777

~~Please note~~

*All standard disclaimers apply* ;)

"Boo!"

"Oooh! Petite rascal!"

"Non, you a rascal." This last epithet broke away into a fit of giggles as the little boy disapeared behind the divan once more. Moments passed away

seemingly as if he would never return.

The lady returned to her magazine, but to the trained eye you could tell that she had no interest as to its contents. A little tuft of hair appeared just over her

shoulder and then disappeared once again from sight.

"RASCAL! Mamman!" The little boy shouted and attempted to run away.

Bell like laughter rang out as the little boy was grabbed by the back of his shirt and dragged back to the divan, "Oh mon petit rascal you are in for it now."

"Non tickle." he squealed succumbing to fits of giggles.

Erik sat transfixed, watching the scene unfold before him wondering what that would be like to be a son and play with your mother like that. He snorted to

himself, 'She probably didn't know how to play to begin with. Bah! What am I thinking? That's the past and this is now.'

Watching longer still the young boys face tuned red and his giggles were becoming intermittent as if he could laugh no more. He smirked and quietly chuckled

to himself. It had appeared that the young boys mother had won.

"Christine, let the poor boy up before he embarrasses himself."

"Fine. But next time Tristan you think twice before you call me a rascal." Christine said patting her hair back in place. Looking rather smug Erik thought.

Tristan stood still for a second an then as haughtily as a three year old could tugged his clothes back into place and sniffed, " I shall be in my room."

As Tristan stalked from the room, Christine joined Erik on the couch curling up at his side and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Are you certain he is mine."

"Of course he is why would you ask such a thing?" She asked looking at him wit concern evident on her features.

"Because I could have sworn our son just channeled the fair Vicomte."

A/n: Please review it makes me happy and when I am happy I write more. :) But be kind I know I am a tad rusty.