You sat watching your husband warming up for the Chelsea game he was about to play in. You were always worried about him, he was after all the most fouled player in the Barclay's Premier League. Your attention moved from your husband to your fussing son. He was two years old, and grumbling. "When's the game going to start?" your son whined.

You giggled, smoothing his hair. "In a little bit," you told him, turning to look for your husband. "Wave to daddy!" you smiled, as Eden's eyes locked with yours. Eden smiled and waved back as your child, who was waving his hand rapidly at his father. The players went inside, waiting for the game to start. They came out soon enough and the match started. Chelsea was in control after the kick off and scored a goal within the first twenty minutes.

You cheered as did your son as your husband's team scored. The half ended and your son was occupied with the fruit slices you had pulled from your bag. The game resumed and Chelsea were soon up 2-0. Your husband was doing well as usual and had scored the second goal, which he dedicated to your son. You giggled as your son bounced on your knee with excitement. There was fifteen minutes to go and the other team started to play dirty.

"Mama, can I have a napkin?" your son asked, referring to his sticky hands. While you were rummaging through your bag for the napkin, an audible gasp followed by anger jeers alerted you to the field. Standing up to get a better look, you could see a Chelsea player on the ground, though who is was you were not sure. The player sat up and you gasped once you realized it was Eden. He was clutching his ankle and he looked in great pain. "Why is daddy on the ground?" your son asked.

"He just has a booboo," you said.

"Is it a big booboo?"

"I'm not sure," you replied. Two medical guys helped Eden off the field and you grabbed your bag. Flashing the security guards your pass, you walked down into the restricted section of the stadium with your son in your arms. A security guard led you to the medical wing. Pushing open the door, you saw your husband with his ankle wrapped tightly talking to some trainers and doctors. He turned to look at you two and smiled slightly.

"How's your booboo, daddy?" your son asked, wiggling out of your grasp and trotting over to your husband. Placing your son on his lap, Eden explained that he had been tripped and twisted his ankle when he landed funny.

"You'll be out for at least a week," the doctor explained. Eden nodded and grabbed the crutches the doctors had handed him. "Don't put any weight on it for now, and we'll assess you in three days." You walked besides Eden as the three of you made your way to your car. Buckling your son into the car, you drove your family home and giggled at how your husband was having difficulties with the crutches but wouldn't accept any help from you.

Eden was to stay home from work for a week, which you were grateful. You could pull more shifts and catch up on your work. While you were gone, Eden and your son were left to themselves. "What do you want to do?" Eden asked your son.

"Football!" your son replied, throwing his arms up in the air.

"I can't play," your husband stated, motioning to his ankle.

"Tag?" No. "Wrestle?" No. "Water fight?" No. Your son sighed and sat on the couch. Both boys were sad that they couldn't do anything to bond while Eden was off. He wasn't allowed to drive and the TV was malfunctioning. Suddenly, Eden got an idea. Placing his crutches on the floor, he sat down before laying flat on his back.

"(Y/S/N), come over here." Your son did as he was told and trotted over to his father. Eden motioned for him to lay in Eden's arms. Your son complied and Eden lifted your son up and down. "Superman!" your husband shouted. Your son giggled and made sound effects while he was in the air. "Watch out for the buildings!" Eden gasped.

Moving your son from one side to the other, your son had effectively "maneuvered around" the "buildings" that had appeared in your living room. You returned two hours later to find a snoring Eden with you son curled up on his chest. Chuckling to yourself, you went to pick up your son to move him to his bed but Eden's grip on him tightened. You gave up and thanked the fact that they were sleeping on carpet. Placing a pillow under Eden's head and a blanket over the two of them, you went upstairs to sleep, after taking a few pictures on your phone of the father-son moment.