The Only Exception - {TOM HOLLAND}

F I F T E E N

Tom stands and hoists Ezra into his arms while you grab the single carry on which hosts everything from your tickets to snacks. You grab the tickets before slinging the backpack over your shoulders, walking up to the boarding desk. A few other families with small children follow suit, waiting to board as well.

"Unca Haz?" Ezra asks excitedly.

Tom nods, "we'll see him in New York, we just have to get there first bug."

"On planes," Ezra says with confidence.

"On planes," Tom agrees with a smile, rubbing hand up and down the boy's back.

It's surreal this time. Instead of consoling a broken-hearted toddler, watching Tom board a plane, you get to be a part of that now. You're with a very happy toddler, with Tom, boarding a plane together. It's much more pleasant.

After another minute or so the line begins to move and the three of you are walking into the plane. It smells like brewing coffee and sterile air. The cold air from the outside seeps inside from where the on ramp connects to the open door of the plane and makes the cabin a bit chilly. You look at your tickets and find the row of seats you are assigned.

"Window!" Ezra beams.

"Actually, you're gonna sit in the middle between Daddy and me. Okay?" You say to the boy.

Ezra pouts, "I want the window."

You glance past Tom to see other passengers patiently waiting to pass down the aisle. Making the executive decision you carefully direct Tom to sit at the window seat—Ezra half on his lap— and you take the aisle seat, leaving the middle one open. You set the backpack on the ground in front of the middle one since Ezra doesn't need the leg room.

"You can sit on my lap after we take off. How about that?" Tom offers.

Ezra continues to pout, eyes getting watery the more he realizes he's not getting what he wants. This is an example of how things start to get complicated. Tom's right, he wouldn't fly across the world for just a nanny, but that doesn't mean you're Ezra's mother. You don't necessarily get to parent him, or maybe you do.

It's all so blurred.

Tom takes the reigns though, and you let yourself breathe.

"Ezra James," Tom says firmly which gets the boy's attention quickly, "I need you to calm down and talk to me like a big boy right now. What's the problem?"

Ezra starts to whine—

"Is that how big boy's talk?" Tom continues, eyebrows furrowed.

"I wanna sit with the window," Ezra mumbles.

"And where did Y/N tell you where to sit?" Tom asks.

Ezra simply points at the middle seat.

"Okay, so you are going to sit there, but when the plane is high enough you can come sit on my lap and look out the window," Tom finishes, "alright?"

"Okay," Ezra huffs.

Tom leans forward and kisses his son's forehead. Ezra is such a daddy's boy, and it's like the semi-meltdown never happened as he curls closer into his father's hold. You take off your jacket and set it on the middle seat, spreading it flat because there isn't much room and you don't feel like putting it on the floor. When it comes time for Ezra to sit and buckle up he makes a little nest out of your jacket to sit on, holding Sprinkles close. It's the bumpy lift off that keeps Ezra quiet, the boy a little startled with the shaking of the plane as the ground gets further and further away.

When his little hand searches for yours, you can't help but feel warm and cozy on the inside.

From then on out the plane ride is easy. Ezra naps, colors, looks out the window, devours his snacks. The only tricky part is when the tyke has to use the bathroom not once but twice. You and Tom take turns, which feels a bit domestic. A little too domestic when things are supposed to be new and undiscovered.