Chapter Text
“Thanks again for doing this,” Gabriele says as his wife hands their little baby, Carmella, into Leone’s arms. Leone holds his niece with practiced ease, and though she obviously preferred the arms of her mother, her uncle looked close enough to her father that an all-out panicked wail had yet to escape her lips.
Abbacchio wonders how long the peace will last until that time comes.
“The babysitter should know all of this as well, but please go over it with him once he arrives.”
“’Course,” Abbacchio nods. He is filling in for the first day and a half of babysitting for his brother and sister-in-law's two-week vacation. Due to scheduling issues, their regular babysitter wouldn’t be able to step in until the day after the next, and in their panic to find someone, Abbacchio offered to fill in. He was off school for the time being anyways, and had a very flexible sleep schedule, which was perfect for a fussy little baby without her parents.
They run though all of Carmella’s needs, equipment, and emergency protocols should anything happen. Abbacchio fights the urge to roll his eyes —he had watched over his niece before, and was probably better equipped than most when it came to safety precautions thanks to his education and schooling. He doesn’t say any of this, of course. Parents will worry no matter what, so he listens, nods, and repeats what he’s been told, hoping to ease their concerns.
Once they’re satisfied, it’s a long goodbye before the home is silent following the soft click of the door shutting behind the couple.
“Let’s eat,” Abbacchio says to the baby without missing a beat. He can sense her distress, and a distraction was the way to go. He heats her food and places her in her highchair. Her bib is on a moment later, and Abbacchio takes the little bowl of baby food, a home-made puree, and grabs a seat beside Carmella. She is smacking the tray of her highchair impatiently, which elicits a gentle coo of calming words from her uncle as he tries to feed her.
It’s a messy attempt, but luckily she eats everything and is happy to be cleaned and taken to the padded floor where her toys are. Abbacchio hurriedly washes up, not once taking his eyes off her. She had initially fought drinking her bottle after lunch, which sits on the back of his mind as he picks her up to change her diaper. She’s fussy but not distressed, which is a good sign. He cradles her and tries to make her drink her milk a second time, and is successful, to his relief. Like this, little Carmella is very adorable. Abbacchio doesn’t fight his smile as he watches her chubby cheeks swell and pudgy fingers grasp the bottle tightly. Her blue eyes shine and her long lashes fan as she blinks rapidly. The gentle swaying Abbacchio is doing wonders. He takes the empty bottle and lifts her head over his shoulder, praying there will be no spit-up this time as he pats her back, too lazy to find a towel to cover his shoulder. He focuses on that instead of the sullen feeling he sometimes gets when he is left alone with his thoughts and his niece. He slowly places her sleeping figure in her crib for an afternoon nap and tries to bury the feeling of “will I ever find someone to share this type of life with?” down in the bed as well.
It was far too early in the day to have those type of recurring thoughts.
***
Calling it a long day is putting it lightly. There is no time to think for himself, which is a blessing in disguise, but doesn’t dispute the fact that Abbacchio is quickly drained from Carmella’s constant need for his attention. When night came, Abbacchio gave up trying to get her to sleep in her crib. She cried, she fought, she fussed and wailed unless he stayed with her, and he sure as hell couldn’t crawl in there with her, so he carried her into his borrowed bed —his brother’s— and laid her down beside him.
Carmella sleeps beside her uncle after tugging at his long hair and clawing at his face, trying to play with him until his lack of action bored her into an exhausted sleep. He keeps an arm around her and eventually nods off as well, thanking the heavens that tomorrow afternoon he’d be relieved from his duties and his niece would be in the capable hands of her regular babysitter.
***
When there is a knock on the door that afternoon, Abbacchio completely misses it the first time. To be fair, Carmella is screeching at the television, and bouncing excitedly with the music it is blaring. Abbacchio lowers the volume when he realizes the sound is from the door, and rushes to open it while the baby is distracted, praying nothing happens in the three seconds his eyes are off her.
“Oh,” The young man at the door says with mild surprise. Was he not expecting someone to answer when he knocked? “Hello there. I am Carmella’s babysitter —Gabriele asked me to—”
“—Bruno, right? My brother told me, come in come in,” Abbacchio hurriedly ushered the other in. He left Bruno to close the door and take off his shoes while he went back to the living room to check on Carmella. She was still lying on her stomach on the rug in front of the television, eyes glued to the children’s show flashing across the screen. Abbacchio whisks her up but didn’t stray away from the living room, knowing from past experience that interrupting her without something as equally distracting as her favourite show would make her cry. Instead, he brought her to the couch and sat her on his lap while waiting for Bruno to join him.
The young man entered and a big smile spread on his face at the sight of the baby.
“There she is,” he says gently. He sits beside Abbacchio and holds Carmella's pudgy hand between his thumb and index finger. She is unbothered by Bruno, and even laughs when he smiles at her and greets her again in a sweet voice. Abbacchio lets the two have their moment while he silently assesses Bruno. He immediately understands why his older brother trusts him with their child. From what he could tell, Bruno is well-mannered, polite, and seems to genuinely love children —at least this particular child.
“They wanted me to remind you about some stuff,” Abbacchio eventually interrupts. Carmella has now crawled onto Bruno’s lap, which frees Abbacchio to stand. “But you seem to know your stuff,” he adds when Bruno stands to join him, Carmella propped against his hip and clutching his shirt. “You babysit her often, don’t you?”
“I do,” Bruno laughs. “But let’s go over it anyways. I’m certain it’ll ease Sofia’s mind.”
Abbacchio doesn’t mind. He takes Bruno to the kitchen, the bathroom and Carmella’s bedroom, going over her needs and what her parents have provided to make the babysitting process as seamless as possible. All the while, Abbacchio observes Bruno. He holds Carmella with care. He engages her in conversation despite her age. He speaks to Abbacchio with politeness and a soft smile, and it has Abbacchio wondering how on earth his brother found this person.
And for the first time in a long time, he’s curious enough about another person to ask —to learn more about them.
Before he knows it, Abbacchio is back on the couch with Bruno. They talk about Gabriele and Sofia. About school and career paths. They talk about their parents, or lack thereof, and friends that help fill the gap. They move to the kitchen to cook dinner, taking turns holding or caring for Carmella. One seats her in her highchair while the other gently helps her into her bib. Bruno feeds her, and Abbacchio helps wipe whatever she throws over her tray and onto the tiled floor. They laugh her antics off. They sit in comfortable silence and watch her play with the food. They cheer her on when she manages to feed herself a messy fist full of the pre-made puree.
The sun is setting now, and Abbacchio is surprised when it finally dips below the horizon.
He’s surprised because for the first time in a long time, he wants to stay in another person’s company.