Jack and Davey sat on the couch after a long day. Their four-year-old daughter, Molly, had walked downstairs in her bath robe.
"Daddy, Papa?" She asked politely. "There's something upstairs and it's not very good."
Davey cocked an eyebrow and picked up his daughter. "What's wrong, Moo?"
"I don't know! I was just getting a set of pajamas from my closet and I heard a noise and saw some sparks!"
Jack ran into the garage and shut off the breaker. "Goddammit," he muttered, running into the house to grab a flashlight.
"Are you mad at me, Papa?" Molly asked her frantic father who was searching for a light.
Davey picked up his daughter and rocked her in his arms. "I doubt your Papa is mad at you," he walked her up the stairs. "Let's go get you some PJ's."
Jack walked into his bedroom and slammed the door, not caring about the protests coming from the other side of the door.
Molly peeked out from her bedroom. "Daddy?" she waited until her father turned around. "Does Papa still love me? Cause if not, I'm packing my crayons and leaving."
Davey hurried into her bedroom. "No, Moo. Your Papa loves you very much. He's just had a big day," he explains, taking off his undershirt and placing it on his daughter. "Now, do you want to come and sleep with me tonight?"
The girl nods and lifts her arms, asking to be picked up.
"Alright. Let's go talk to Papa, alright?" Davey walks into his bedroom and softly knocks on the door. He opens the door and places his daughter down on the bed.
Molly's eyes go wide. "Papa? Do you still love me?" she asks, her bottom lip quivering.
Jack pulls her into his lap. "Of course I love you, Biscuit! What makes you think I don't?"
"I think when you left so suddenly Molly got scared. Is that right, MooMoo?"
The girl nods and lays her head in the crook of his neck, closing her eyes. "I love you Papa. I love you Daddy."
The two men lay down and let themselves fall asleep to the sound of the others breathing.