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9 months old
“Not it,” Buck and Eddie both grumble at the same time. It’s who-the-fuck-knows o’clock in the morning and their resident infant is screaming at the top of his lungs.
Buck groans and curls up, folding his pillow around his ears. He knows it’s his turn to deal with Chris, but he just wants one more second of sleep. Just one second.
“S’your turn, Ev,” Eddie slurs, rolling over and mirroring Buck’s position. Except he’s gonna get to stay in that position. Well. At least until the next wake-up call.
Buck begrudgingly gets up. He rubs his eyes and scratches his chest tiredly as he makes his way over to the crib.
He loves Chris. He really does. But it’s times like this he momentarily wishes he had a “normal” uni student life. Y’know, partying or studying or really being anywhere but in the presence of a screeching infant.
But that would mean he wasn’t with Eddie. Wasn’t with Chris. And that is the opposite of an attractive option for Buck. He wouldn’t give up his boys for the world.
“What is it, little one?” Buck mutters rhetorically. He reaches down into Chris’ crib to pick him up under his arms, his tiny body still wailing. And Buck immediately knows what the problem is. And he’s not happy about it.
“Christ,” he shuffles over and lays Chris down on the changing table. This is definitely low, low, low on his list of favourite activities to do with Chris. Why can’t Chris ever wake him up in the middle of the night to play peekaboo?
Nevertheless, this is happening. Buck changes Chris’ diaper fueled only by muscle memory and Chris’ screaming, the volume of which stops him from falling asleep standing up.
Once Chris is clean and dry and Buck has almost finished the pack of baby wipes (there’s another one in the closet, but Eddie can deal with swapping them next time, Buck just wants to get back in bed) he puts Chris down to sleep again.
Chris’ crying has stopped and he looks as cute as ever, completely zapping any angry thoughts Buck could possibly have towards him concerning the interruption. It’s not his fault. And the infinite cuteness definitely helps ease the grudge.
“Sleep tight,” Buck whispers, stumbling back into bed with his boyfriend. Being in bed with Eddie is his favourite place, Chris is just about the only damn person he would leave it for.
Eddie automatically senses Buck’s return and grapples around him like a touch-starved virgin octopus, humming and breathing in his scent.
Buck brings one arm over to wrap around Eddie and one arm down to pull the blankets up. Finally. Sleep at last.
“You smell like baby wipes,” Eddie grumbles quietly, but otherwise stays still.
“Shut up,” Buck groans back
“You shut up, Mr. Baby Wipes.”
Buck chuckles. “Fuck off,” is all he remembers whispering before he’s asleep again.
11 months old
“Jesus fucking christ,” Eddie groans. Awoken from his pleasant dream to the sound of his son crying.
“Eds-” Buck mumbles as he too is jolted awake.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Eddie responds, climbing up and over his boyfriend to get out of bed.
Chris has slowly been waking them up in the middle of the night less and less. Which has been a godsend through exam week. But for some reason, a note saying “my baby was hungry at 3am” is not enough to excuse arriving late for class. Whatever.
“Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh,” Eddie hushes. He gets Chris from his crib and puts him on his hip as he heads to the kitchen (if a mini fridge and a hot plate constitute a “kitchen”). Buck, the angel that he is, made up a bunch of bottles earlier today and put them in the door of the fridge.
“It’s okay, mijo,” Eddie whispers, trying to quiet Chris down if not only to let Buck get back to sleep peacefully.
He bottle-feeds Chris in his arms, rocking him back and forth and back and forth. But even after that, Chris still needs more time to get back to sleep.
His whimpers soften as Eddie cradles him to his chest and burps him. Gently hushing his cries and pacing around his dorm. Something rings as he’s walking and he looks down. He had accidentally stepped on a toy in the middle of the rug, one with a bell inside. Eddie gingerly steps back, hoping it wasn’t enough to wake his sleeping beauty.
A glance over at Buck assures him that his boyfriend still looks asleep. Although, Buck isn’t asleep, not really. He’s kind of half in half out of the present as he cocoons himself in the sheets. He loves listening to the rhythm of Eddie walking back and forth with Chris, patting his back again and again and again. He loves listening to Eddie mutter a Spanish lullaby, one Eddie’s mother used to sing to him and his sisters. He loves listening to Chris’ soft cooing as he settles back into restfulness. He loves Eddie and Chris a whole lot.
16 months old
“S’my turn, babe,” Buck leaves a kiss on Eddie’s shoulder as he gets out of bed. Chris is crying again. Does this kid ever get bored of crying? He supposes all babies have a crying hobby, but it doesn’t make this any more pleasant.
Buck is sore from the previous night’s activities and he has to take a second to stretch before he keeps walking. Otherwise, he’s gonna crumble to the ground and Eddie is going to have to take care of both occupants of his dorm. His 20-year-old baby and his baby baby.
Buck shuffles over to Chris and scoops him up, holding him to his bare chest and rubbing Chris’ back. Chris’ whines are high-pitched and absolutely heartbreaking to listen to, Buck wishes there was an off switch.
Eddie had just gotten out of bed to feed him a half hour ago, and he had a clean diaper, so the best Buck could think of to do right now was just rock him back to sleep. Poor thing.
“Dada loves you, mijo,” he whispers, “Papa loves you.”
Chris quiets down but only for a bit. It must be physically draining to scream for that long, Buck thinks. He grabs some tissues and wipes Chris’ face (and his own shoulder) of baby snot and tears. Buck continues to bounce him until Chris is falling asleep in his arms, blowing little snot bubbles out his nose.
Buck gently places Chris back in bed, hoping and praying and wishing and crossing his fingers that he stays quiet.
But then there’s a faint cry and a squeaked-out sound. He’s awake again.
“Fuck,” Buck swears under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Oh-co-deo,” Chris babbles heavily, knitting his little eyebrows together.
“Huh?” Buck exhales. He’s not quite as good at deciphering baby talk as Eddie is.
“Oh-co-deo,” Chris says again, but angrier, getting impatient.
“Sweetie, what is he saying?” Buck reaches over to jostle his boyfriend.
Eddie waits a second to hear Chris say it one more time and then he rolls back over, face smushed in his pillow.
“He wants the crocodile,” Eddie answers, muffled.
Of course. Oh-co-deo. Cocodrilo.
Buck looks around and then retrieves the crocodile plushie Abuela had gotten Chris for his birthday. All his toys from Abuela have Spanish names, even if they are as unimaginative as simply the name of the animal. Cocodrilo is still damn cuddly either way.
Buck gives Chris his toy and he just about shuts right up. Making grabby hands for it before Buck has even handed it to him. Goddamn, this kid is cute.
Soon enough, Chris is asleep again and Buck crawls back in bed with Eddie. He kisses his boyfriend on the forehead, then the cheek, quietly thanking him for his baby-whispering and Spanish-speaking skills. Eddie hums contently and cuddles back into Buck, happy as ever to help out his man, and even happier to have him back in bed.
19 months old
“Not it,” Buck groans, not even moving a muscle as he’s greeted by the sounds of Chris screeching.
“I know, Baby Wipes,” Eddie chuckles sleepily, ruffling Buck’s bed-head.
Buck can’t believe the nickname has lasted this long.