✏️ The Littlest Spy

16. Boundaries

Isadora panicked for a moment, not wanting to be seen like this. Pastel pyjamas like these would be even more embarrassing than her regular nightwear, and she didn't want Brock to see her like this. And at the same time, she felt like getting carried away with her inner child should be something to be ashamed of; she should have known when it was time to return to adulthood, and been back with him in time for lunch. She didn't want to establish a precedent of letting her partner down every time she allowed herself to play.

"Hey, kiddo?" Brock's voice came from outside, and the door started to whisper open before she had even got to let him in. And then his head appeared around the edge of the door, a little hesitant. "You want something to eat?"

Isadora couldn't say anything. She lifted the duvets up around her, vaguely aware that although the pyjamas covered her body, they did little to conceal the shape of her. But hearing Brock address her as 'kiddo', and the sing-song cadence of his voice, made it easier for her to stay in that weird childish state of mind where she didn't need to think things through properly. She felt like she had to grow up and act her age, but she didn't really want to, and Brock's tone made her feel like it wasn't mandatory to act her age.

That impression was further reinforced when she looked at what he was holding. He was bringing her lunch in for her, but the plate in his hand was a disc of bright orange plastic, the kind of thing a child might eat from. She didn't think she'd seen it before; so all she could think of was that Brock must have bought it when he went out yesterday. When she looked closer, she could see what might be a little plastic knife or fork as well, a handle sticking out over the edge of the plate. She couldn't see the food from her place on the floor, but just not knowing made her feel so small. In his other hand was... well, it was a cup. But the kind that had a flip-up spout on the top, to guard against careless spills. It was two layers of clear plastic, with a motif of dancing princesses sandwiched between them so that it wouldn't be scratched or faded in the dishwasher. The utensils were perfect for a child, and that just made it harder for Isadora to summon back her adult thoughts.

Brock just smiled, a warm, understanding smile that immediately put her at ease, and sat down on the corner of the bed.

"Hey there, little one," he said softly. "I thought you might be getting hungry, so I made this for you. I hope it's okay." He put the plate and cup on the floor next to Isadora, and she felt her heart swell with gratitude and amazement. She'd never even considered doing things like this to indulge her inner child, but it made her feel so safe and protected. The plate was divided up into sections, for reasons she didn't quite understand. Most of them were filled with sandwiches cut up into triangles, but one held a small selection of salad leaves arranged like a bouquet of flowers, and there was also a little area packed with celery stalks and carrot sticks, as well as what looked like a tiny pot of jelly to dip them in. It felt so right.

As Isadora reached for the plate, Brock ruffled her hair affectionately. This wasn't what they had talked about. He wasn't just allowing her some time to relax now, he was actively participating in her play. And he knew just what to do to make her feel small and safe. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that she should have felt threatened; and if anyone had asked her, that would have been the response she expected. But Brock was there to protect her, he was clearly on her side. And it was so easy to keep on responding like the child she wanted to be; accepting his gratitude and enjoying herself without a second thought. She'd never even thought that it would be possible for someone else to tolerate this side of her. But here was Brock, her partner, her friend, meeting her exactly where she was without judgement or hesitation.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice small and soft. "For... for everything."

Brock just nodded, his own eyes crinkling with warmth and understanding. "Anytime, kiddo. Anytime."