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A sharp crack followed by a burst of light shot through the air. A petty thunderstorm had rolled its way into Stoke and bothered all the citizens living amongst the town.
Hannibal squeezed his pillow over his head and sighed sleepily. It wasn’t the storm that bothered him, really, it was the tiny creature just on the other side of the room that kept the boy awake.
Another crack caused another drawn out whimper and cry to leave the bassinet pushed against the grimy wall.
Hannibal tried again to drain out the noise of his baby brothers fussing but the baby was becoming relentless. Tiny noises turned into wailing and the lightening strikes turned into a background noise.
“Blimey, Murdoc!” Hannibal shouted now sitting up in his bed. “Do ye ever quiet down? Pops is gonna pound my teeth in with all this racket!”
Hannibal knew he was screaming at an infant that didn’t understand a lick of what he was saying but still the anger bubbled.
“All you do is yap and yap all night!” The 6 year old tossed his blanket to the side and swung his feet off the side of the bed.
“We should’ve left you for the wolves! Yer so bleeding loud I’m sure the neighbors can hear you over the storm!”
Hannibal had now stomped his way to the bassinet and peered over the edge. His lips pulled into a frown with eye brows knitted tightly in annoyance.
Murdoc’s cries had paused and faded into mild sniffles as he peered at his brother through watery eyes. The baby blanket that had been recklessly thrown on was now at his feet.
“You act all innocent but I know the minute I close my bloody eyes you’ll be howling like a wolf on a full moon!” Hannibal spat out as a final hooray to his rant.
Murdoc squeaked as little tears ran down his round cheeks. He reached for comfort from the loud words but was turned up empty handed from the lack of blanket by his side. In a moment of sadness the baby reached his tiny hands up towards Hannibal.
The older brother now coming down from his tantrum tilted his head at the babies action.
Hannibal had never held his baby brother properly yet. He had stood to the side as his father groaned and complained while carelessly caring around the fussy infant.
To be honest he had no desire to hold him. He didn’t care for the thing. He had only known his sibling for about 3 days and had come to the conclusion that it was loud, needy, and smelly.
How could you love something like that?
But something still ached slightly in Hannibal’s chest. Standing there with lightning pouring away in the back, staring down at Murdoc’s tear stained cheeks as he begged for comfort struck Hannibal somewhere unknown in his heart.
Maybe he had been this desperate before.
Crying and whining for comfort from someone braver but was promptly ignored.
He looked away briefly and gnawed at his bottom lip. Murdoc didn’t deserve to be left in the dark and forced to fend for himself. He was still so new to the world.
With a sigh of defeat Hannibal reached his tiny hands into the bassinet and awkwardly picked Murdoc up by the armpits.
Murdoc’s head rolled back awkwardly like he couldn’t keep it up properly. Hannibal was swift to cup it in the groove of his arm while his other hand supported the child’s body.
It was such a foreign feeling to the little boy. Nobody had ever taught him to hold a baby before. But based on all the ladies he’d seen they seemed to cradle the tiny things like they were made of glass.
Hannibal didn’t quite have this view on babies or the raging motherly instincts but he still held Murdoc close nonetheless.
His cries were no long piercing loud, instead they were tiny croaks muffled by heavy breaths.
Hannibal stared down at the poor thing and awkwardly shifted on his feet. Should he take a seat? Would that be more comfortable for the two of them?
He took an awkward step back and turned with stiff motions like he was in fear of moving too fast and dropping Murdoc.
Murdoc had opened his eyes fully at the feeling of the tense movements and stared at his brothers focused face. Little hiccups left his mouth as Hannibal took a wobbly seat on the edge of his mattress.
Once he was sat Hannibal let out the puff of air he was holding and looked back down cautiously at Murdoc’s tiny, squished face. Those big, mismatched eyes stared in what felt like Hannibal’s soul.
He scrunched his face up sourly and rolled his eyes.
“What? What are you starin’ at? Do you not like being held all of a sudden?”
Murdoc opened his mouth a few times like he was going to respond but Hannibal knew he was far to small for that. Instead, the baby yawned and clutched his small hand on the fabric of Hannibal’s pajamas.
Hannibal’s bitterness faded away at the sight.
Murdoc’s eyes drooped down as the sleepiness was starting to kick in. He stared up at Hannibal’s now softer eyes for a few more seconds and eventually closed his own tired eyes.
Hannibal‘s mouth was slightly open as he stared at his brothers now sleeping face. He looked so much more peaceful when he wasn’t crying and Hannibal couldn’t help but give a shy smile when soft snores came from Murdoc’s sleeping form.
He had done it. His first real responsibility as a big brother. Hannibal Niccals had successfully gotten his baby brother to sleep.
The feeling was rewarding in an odd way and the warmth spreading through his chest could only be described as heartwarming.
Hannibal’s own tiredness was seeping in now and the boy knew he had to sleep for school tomorrow, but he couldn’t bare the idea of putting Murdoc down now.
Instead he sat comfortably on his bed and cupped the sleeping infant in his tiny arms while listening to the soft padding of rain on his window.
The lightening and thunder had calmed down and the relaxing, drowsy aftermath filled the early morning sky.
Hannibal would be exhausted and borderline sleep deprived for sure, but with the new bond he had just created with his baby brother, sleepiness felt like the last of his priorities.