Chapter Text
The room was still bathed in that bluish twilight of dawn, the kind of darkness that's almost pasty, too silent, until it isn't. Abruptly the sharp cry of a baby ripped through the air, vibrating off the walls through the baby monitor.
Fernando groaned first, a muffled and almost indistinguishable sound, his face still buried in the pillow as he murmured in a hoarse voice "It's your turn..."
Mark blinked slowly, his consciousness returning as if it had to traverse miles of sleep fog. The room seemed to spin in the darkness of the night, the weight of the blanket pulling his body back onto the bed. But the crying continued, insistent from the other side of the hallway.
He sighed resignedly and slid out of the sheets. His feet touched the cold floor and only then did he realize how much his whole body was protesting. Sleeping for three hours straight was already considered a luxury at that stage of his life.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw that his husband had already stopped pretending to be awake. The Australian rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the burning sensation of sleepiness and bent his neck to check the time on his phone screen: 3:24 a.m. Excellent.
Oscar's crying grew louder when Mark pushed open the bedroom door with his shoulder, calling softly to his son. "Hey, Oscar, daddy's here"
The distressing crying ceased instantly, as if someone had flipped an invisible switch, the 6-month-old baby began to recognize his own name and curiously searched with his eyes for the voice that was calling him.
Mark didn't understand why he was surprised to see Simba and Sammy in Oscar's room. The two dogs were sitting in front of the crib and looked deeply frustrated. Both had their ears perked up, attentive to the noises Oscar was making. Sammy let out a low whimper as if trying to comfort the baby. If it weren't for the height of the crib, the two labradors would have already jumped inside and freed Oscar from those wooden bars that Fernando and Mark insist on keeping him confined in.
The Australian patted each dog on the head as he approached, leaned over the crib and saw Oscar looking at him with his little face all red, but without tears streaming down his face. His chubby little hands were squeezing the air, opening and closing, as if trying to grasp something.
“It’s alright, puppy” Mark whispered, his voice heavy with tiredness but full of tenderness. “What’s wrong, can you tell me?”
The man carefully picked up the baby, feeling his warm, trembling little body gently press against his chest. Oscar sniffled loudly against his neck and let out a wet sigh, so small and so dramatic that it brought a crooked smile to Mark's face despite the hour.
"Well... at least it's not a diaper" he noted after a quick check.
The labradors huddled together even more tightly, Simba nearly tripping over Mark's heels as he left the room. They followed as if they were part of the team assigned to check on Oscar during the early morning hours.
Mark walked down the dimly lit hallway, gently rocking Oscar. "Maybe it's hunger then" he murmured. The baby had tried new foods at dinnertime, pureed in a blender and ate quite a lot in the opinion of the two men, but maybe the introduction of solid foods continues to mess with the boy's hunger schedule.
Oscar sniffed against his neck, as if in agreement.
The man turns on only one light as he enters the cold kitchen, flickering a few times while the world around him seems a little clearer. He adjusts his son in his arms, resting the baby's head on his shoulder, and begins to prepare the bottle with automatic movements.
The dogs sat at his feet, tilting their heads at the sound of the warm water. While waiting for the temperature to adjust, Oscar moved his little legs in a restless rhythm, now calmer but clearly anxious about what was to come.
"I know, I know, we'll solve your problem, okay?" Mark promised in a tired whisper, running his hand down the baby's back.
Oscar watched everything with large, attentive eyes. The moment the Australian man opened the formula container, the baby made a soft sound, something between a curious "mmhh" and a hurried warning, drawing the attention of the two labradors who immediately tilted their heads in sync.
When Mark began to shake the bottle with firm movements, Oscar let out another adorably distressed and impatient noise, clenched his fist and swung his little arm too, imitating his father's movement. He had learned that when his parents did this, it meant that soon he would no longer be hungry.
Mark let out a low laugh, feeling his chest soften.
With the bottle ready and the temperature checked with a quick touch of his wrist, Mark turned off the kitchen light and walked slowly into the living room. An armchair leaning against the window watched them approach.
The man sat down, adjusting his tired body, letting his weight settle on the upholstery. Oscar moved his legs expectantly, trying to catch his breath once more as if he could pull the baby bottle towards him.
“Hey, relax” Mark murmured, adjusting the baby in his arms with practice. He rested Oscar’s head in the crook of his arm and brought the bottle closer. “Here, little one”
Oscar grasped the bottle with both hands the instant it touched his lips. It was always amazing how his eyes closed almost immediately. Mark let out a sigh of relief almost as great as the labradors, who slowly approached until their heads rested on his knees, one on each side.
The man leaned his head back against the armchair, finally letting his body relax completely. He observed the baby in his lap, the way Oscar held the bottle tightly, his face less red now, his eyelashes resting on his rounded cheeks.
Babies are often portrayed as unpredictable creatures and Oscar sometimes confirmed this reputation, but Mark felt that his baby could communicate with him through small gestures, maybe because he was the one who spent the most time with Oscar.
Since Oscar was born, he and Fernando had established a routine that worked as well as possible. Mark worked from home, adjusting schedules and tasks to care for the baby in the first few months. It was their way of keeping Oscar close and safe, especially since they both still shuddered at the mere thought of putting him in daycare so soon.
The Australian rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the warm texture of his own tired skin. Despite the exhaustion, there was something comforting in holding Oscar as he finished his bottle, each sip becoming more spaced out until, finally, the baby simply allowed himself to be rocked. The small body relaxed, weighing on Mark's chest in a way that always surprised him, how could he be so tiny and yet weigh so much in his arms?
The man looked at his son's little face, chubby cheeks, rosy from the effort of crying earlier, his small nose and his hair, which in recent months had begun to grow faster, taking on that dark blond tone. No sign of teeth yet.
Oscar sighed deeply, sinking even further against his chest, surrendering to sleep.
With carefully choreographed movements, Mark rose from the armchair, adjusting the baby in his arms and walked back to the bedroom. Sammy and Simba followed him. He gently laid Oscar in the crib, his hand resting on the baby's chest for a few seconds, feeling his light breathing, only returning to his room when he was sure Oscar was truly asleep.
The mattress felt like a hug when he lay down next to Fernando, who was fast asleep. He saw that he had 3 hours and 2 minutes until the alarm went off. Mark let out a sigh before sinking into the pillow.
***
Fernando woke up with the feeling of not knowing if he had slept well or had simply passed out from exhaustion. The soft morning light was beginning to filter through the gaps in the curtains and when he turned his head he saw Mark still curled up in bed, breathing deeply.
For a second, Fernando just stared. His chest filled with love whenever he saw the other man so serene, so different from the half-zombie man of the early morning.
Careful not to startle him, the Spaniard reached out and slid his fingers down Mark's back, in a slow caress until he lightly rubbed with his thumb, then leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck.
"Good morning" he murmured, even knowing that Mark probably wouldn't register it.
He got up and walked to the bathroom, still half asleep. When he turned on the light, the sight that greeted him in the mirror made him chuckle briefly. His beard was a mess, it had certainly seen better days. He ran a hand over his face before getting into the shower.
When he returned to the room, the scent of fresh soap still clinging to him, he noticed the bed was made and Mark was standing, stretching. They exchanged a soft smile and met in a brief kiss.
"Good morning" Mark murmured against his lips.
After that, the Australian went to the bathroom while Fernando took a detour to Oscar's room. He opened the door slowly and called out in a low voice, "Oscar..."
The baby stirred in the crib, stretching his arms and legs, making a funny face before opening his eyes. The pout on his lips suggested he hadn't yet decided if it was worth waking up now.
Fernando smiled broadly.
"Good morning, Nene. Come here."
He easily picked him up, immediately smelling the baby scent, something only very young kids exude, almost a perfume of innocence. Fernando breathed deeply into Oscar's dark blond hair.
"Shall we choose your outfit?" he asked, walking over to the wardrobe.
If it were up to Mark, Oscar would live permanently in fluffy pajamas. 'They're comfortable' he'd say. Fernando understood, of course, but they had a whole wardrobe, it would be a waste to leave them stored away.
Not to mention that most of the clothes were pink. Oscar only existed happy and chubby and Fernando loved dressing him in little floral jackets. The Spaniard opened the drawer and assessed the weather through the window, nothing too cold, nothing too hot. Perfect for something light.
“Hmm…” he murmured as he flipped through the options, until he pulled out a pair of blue striped pants and a t-shirt with yellow ducklings.
He cleaned Oscar up and dressed him carefully, talking to the baby. “Let’s put this little foot here… that’s it, very good… now the other one… look how you’ve turned out! Today we have little ducks!”
Oscar responded with an animated noise, almost a happy grunt.
Fernando combed the baby's soft hair with a small brush, then picked him up, cradling his warm little body against his chest and walked with him to the kitchen, where they would begin breakfast.
He opened the fridge and saw small transparent pots filled with mashed baby food: carrots, sweet potatoes, avocados, pears and bananas, the colors lined up in small rows.
“Come on, Nene” he murmured, glancing over the options. “Last week you made a scene with the banana, but… let’s try again. Who knows, maybe today the flavor will win you over”
He chose the banana pot with a hopeful sigh, but as he closed the fridge his eyes fell on the pamphlet held in place with a colorful magnet: “Parents' Club - Weekly Meetings. Socialization, sensory activities, sharing experiences” There was even a picture of a smiling baby in the center, as if it were irresistible not to want to participate.
Fernando let out a soft grumble, Mark hated those meetings. He'd only gone three times because he knew how important it was to his husband.
While he was still looking at the pamphlet, the Australian went into the kitchen. He was now wearing comfortable clothes, the kind people choose when they know they're not going any further from home than to the mailbox. He was presentable enough.
Without saying a word, Mark approached and kissed Oscar's head, dogs circled his feet, knowing it was feeding time.
Sammy and Simba wagged their tails intensely as they watched the Australian man serve them food. Fernando sat down with Oscar on his lap and began mixing the banana in the small bowl, trying to make it as palatable as possible.
"By the way, you remember we have parents' club again this week, right?" he didn't need to see his husband's face to feel Mark roll his eyes.
"Do we really have to go?" he asked, serving fresh water to the dogs.
"You know that, since Oscar doesn't go to daycare he needs to interact with other babies, the pediatrician told us"
Mark opened his mouth to retort but quickly closed it, knowing it was true. Fernando remembered something else while mashing the banana with a spoon.
"Oh, and tonight is our dinner with Seb and Lewis."
“Wait” Mark approached with hurried steps, looking at his husband with a frightened expression. “Today, like, definitely today?”
"Yes" the Spaniard confirmed, raising his eyebrows.
“Shit” Mark turned to face the colorful calendar of reminders on the wall, massaging his chin as he saw the blue pin indicating dinner today. Now he needs to change the day's schedule so that it fits into the routine without: 1) them being late and 2) Oscar getting stressed.
Fernando laughed as he picked up the spoon and brought it to Oscar's mouth. "Okay, let's try the banana one more time"
Oscar didn't seem at all excited about the proposal. As soon as the taste touched his tongue, he frowned, turned his face away and grumbled, letting out a disgruntled "nhhh".
"Okay, we can definitely stop buying bananas" Fernando sighed.
With that, he moved on to plan B, which always works when no food is an option for the baby. As soon as the spoonful of mashed papaya reached Oscar's mouth, the baby broke into a toothless smile, accepting the food. Oscar ate with such enthusiasm that a little bit escaped from the corner of his mouth. Carefully, Fernando used the spoon to collect the papaya that had dripped down his chin.
The Spaniard balanced the coffee cup in his hand while trying to get the timing right to bring another spoonful to his son's mouth with his other hand. The boy made small, impatient complaints whenever the interval between spoonfuls seemed too long. It was a little complicated managing to feed Oscar and himself at the same time, but he wouldn't change a thing.
He spent so many hours away during the day, tied up in appointments and meetings, that those minutes were precious and his alone. It was Fernando who chose Oscar morning clothes, changed the diaper and prepared his son's breakfast. He was the first to see the crumpled smile Oscar gave him when he recognized his papa early in the morning. Fernando clung to these moments as an antidote to the exhausting work routine.
When he finally finished eating, or at least had eaten enough, the Spaniard stood up, kissed the top of Oscar's head and told Mark he was leaving. The sound of the door closing echoed through the house for a brief second.
Mark sighed and stared at the sink, he didn't mind cleaning up the breakfast mess. He washed everything patiently, listening to Oscar's soft murmur behind him.
The pediatrician had said that it was a great sign that Oscar was showing so much interest in eating, that it would help his development, but she also reinforced that the bottle was still important, especially when Oscar was tired.
Mark knew his son's rhythm well, he knew that with a full belly, sleep would soon come. But before that, he wanted to encourage Oscar to move around and burn off some energy.
He carried the baby into the living room, propped against his shoulder, feeling the tiny fingers gripping his t-shirt. He gently placed him on the colorful rug and Oscar immediately kicked his legs, thrilled with his freedom.
The baby swung his arms and legs until he managed to roll onto his side, supporting his own body weight with impressive determination for someone so small, his little arms firmly against the carpet as he lifted his head. His brown eyes scanned everything in front of him, everything was an invitation.
Mark strategically placed toys within his son's reach. Ever since the dogs had mistaken Oscar's toys for their own, no toy was left haphazardly scattered around the room.
After a few seconds of weighing his options, Oscar pressed his chest against the carpet, stretched his arms as far as he could and grabbed a colorful plastic block. As soon as his fingers closed around the toy, he rolled back onto his back with a satisfied sigh.
Now lying down, Oscar examined the block, Mark knew that look well. After putting things in his mouth, the boy's favorite activity was passing objects from one hand to the other, a slow and meticulous ritual.
Mark moved a little closer, sat on the rug and tried what he'd been trying every day for the past few months.
"So, Oscar, do you want to try saying dada? Da-da, da-da…"
Oscar didn't react, he didn't even look away. He just continued studying the block, passing it from his right hand to his left and back again, as if Mark were an irrelevant piece of furniture.
“Oh, ignoring your dad, as always” the Australian joked, raising an eyebrow, used to the lack of reciprocity. Oscar wasn’t very interested in babbling specific words, he preferred making random sounds or simply staying quiet.
He knew it was only a matter of time before Oscar started yawning, his eyes blinking sleepily as his body succumbed to the exhaustion of a full belly. As soon as that happened, Mark thought, he would take him to the crib and then have a moment of peace to finally open his laptop and get to work.
***
Mark managed to work in silence for a while, his fingers running across the keys, only getting up when the alarm clock reminded him that it was time to prepare lunch.
He was chopping vegetables when he heard the first grumble coming from his son's room, then the insistent whimpering that signaled nap time was over. Mark sighed, wiped his hands on the dish towel and fetched Oscar, whose cheeks were still crumpled with sleep. He sat him down on the kitchen floor, surrounded by some safe toys, and went back to finish cooking, keeping an eye on the baby on the floor.
When lunch was ready, Mark settled Oscar in the high chair and began feeding him. Between spoonfuls, he wiped Oscar's sticky chin and took photos. Lots of photos. Oscar looking focused. Oscar with his mouth wide open. Oscar trying to hold the spoon. He sent them all to Fernando, who replied with heart emojis.
After lunch, Mark decided to try again to get Oscar to drink water. He offered him the glass and Oscar accepted, but instead of swallowing, he let the water dribble down the corner of his mouth. The man almost laughed, wiping his son's chin.
When Oscar finally showed signs of tiredness again, Mark took him to his crib and waited until his shallow breathing stabilized. Then he went back to work, replying to some messages from his husband and sending more photos he had taken.
As soon as he finished his work tasks, he got up to prepare Oscar's dinner. Since they were going to eat at Sebastian and Lewis's house that night, he preferred to bring something he had made himself. It wasn't distrust, it was just that Oscar was used to certain flavors and Mark believed that introducing new foods needed to be done slowly. It was easier for Oscar and more relaxed for him and Fernando.
Dinner was ready just before Oscar started crying again. The crying echoed through the house, straight to Mark's chest, who dropped everything and went to get him. The smell gave away the reason, so he took him to change his diaper. Oscar kicked his little legs, delighted with the attention.
The Australian took the baby to bathe him and while washing his hair, he felt that familiar pang of longing and anxiety. In a few weeks he would have to return to working in person, spending hours away from Oscar, away from the routine that had become so much a part of who he was. A parental voice inside him told him that no one would know how to take care of his son as well as he could, which is why he was worried.
***
Fernando was greeted by Mark and Oscar together in the living room when he returned from work. He walked around the toys and dogs scattered on the floor and kissed Mark on the lips and the top of Oscar's head.
As they began to get ready to leave, the Spaniard noticed a cold wind coming in through the windows, the kind that makes babies sneeze. So he dressed his son in a fluffy hooded jacket that made his face look even rounder, pulling the zipper up to the baby's chin, who responded with a satisfied sneeze.
The drive to their friends' house was long enough that Oscar, in the back seat, spent quite a while twirling his fingers in the blanket on his lap. Mark drove calmly and without any hurry while his husband, beside him, mentally checked the contents of their son's bag for the third time, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything.
When they parked, Fernando stretched out his arms and Oscar leaned forward, diving without hesitation into his papa's arms. The bag swung from Fernando's shoulder as they approached the door, but they didn't get close enough to need to ring the doorbell.
Lewis appeared first, smiling with a warm calm. “Hi! Come on, you can-” he couldn’t finish the sentence, as a small figure passed by him, practically pushing his own father out of the way.
“OSCAR!” shouted Charles, the 9-year-old son of their friends, running towards them.
The boy stopped in front of Fernando and broke into a huge smile when Oscar looked at him. He gathered his hands to his chest, remembering his parents' explanation about not being able to hold babies' hands because babies put their hands in their mouths all the time, so instead he ran his fingers along the chubby arm protected by Oscar's jacket, who followed the movement with curiosity.
Sebastian appeared beside Lewis, holding the door open with raised eyebrows. “Charles, let them in first. The wind is too cold and nobody wants to get sick.”
Charles stepped back, but was still dancing impatiently. As soon as they went inside, taking off their coats and greeting their friends, the boy blurted out, “Uncle Fernando, can I hold Oscar? I swear I won’t drop him. Please, please, please…”
Mark laughed and interjected before the Spaniard could respond. "Yes, but you need to sit on the sofa first."
Charles ran and threw himself onto the sofa, straightened his posture and stretched out his arms. Fernando laughed and approached, positioning Oscar in the other boy's lap. Charles' eyes widened when he held the baby.
"Wow... he's MUCH heavier than last time!"
Charles was fascinated by Oscar from the first time he saw him. The other babies he knew drooled and cried all the time, but Oscar was warm and always smelled of soap. He wanted to carry Oscar all over the house, but since he lacked the strength and all the adults begged him not to, Charles could only hold Oscar if he was sitting down and with an adult nearby.
Charles poked Oscar's cheek with the tip of his finger, marveling at how the baby wrinkled his nose in response.
"He makes that face EVERY time!" he said, laughing loudly. Oscar's eyes widened even more, as if he found the sound interesting.
Lewis shrugged and apologized for his son again. "Sorry, he was anxiously waiting for you."
Fernando dismissed the apologies. "Everything's fine, we're happy to see that they like each other."
Charles could be insistent, overly curious, talkative, but he was affectionate in a pure way, incapable of any malice.
When dinner was finally ready, Mark set aside the homemade bowl for Oscar. Charles, seeing the spoon in Mark's hand, immediately began to swing his feet.
"Can I help? PLEASE, can I help?"
The Australian smiled and gestured to the empty chair beside him. “Sure, come here.” Mark held Oscar in his lap and handed the spoon to Charles, helping the boy serve the amount of food the baby needed to eat. Charles held his breath, watching Oscar accept the first spoonful and swallow that strange food.
Fernando took some photos, laughing when he saw his son cross his eyes trying to keep up with the movement of the spoon. Charles was radiant with the compliments he received, he loved feeling responsible. He had already made plans for when Oscar grew up and could move around more. Seb and Lewis are relieved that their son didn't come up with ideas of having a sibling, maybe because Charles doesn't find other babies as interesting as Oscar.
Dinner proceeded at a pleasant pace, Sebastian served the food while Lewis arranged the glasses. Fernando was able to eat peacefully with Oscar asleep in his arms. Mark and Sebastian reminisced about old work stories. Charles sat down at his plate with a deep sigh, the boy only began to eat when Sebastian silently raised his eyebrows.
"Are you excited to go back to the office?" the blond man asked with a crooked smile.
Mark let out a low, almost humorless laugh. "The anxiety I feel isn't really about going back to work" he replied, distractedly stirring his food.
“That’s normal” Lewis said softly, resting his elbow on the table. “Nobody really prepares after their child is born, but Oscar will be fine. And so will you.”
Mark nodded, not entirely convinced, but grateful for the empathy.
The night ended and Oscar was still fast asleep in his papa's arms, having slept most of the time, much to Charles's dismay. In the car, he breathed deeply, cradled by his soft blanket. Fernando carried the baby inside while Mark brought the bag.
They carefully laid Oscar in the crib, making sure he was comfortable and dressed in light clothing. Then they themselves got ready for bed, changed their clothes, turned off the lights, shared a kiss before lying down in each other's arms.
It seemed like they were going to have a peaceful night. Or so it seemed.
Hours later, Oscar's cries burst through the baby monitor.
Fernando murmured, still buried in the pillow. "Mark, it's your turn..."
Mark let out an indignant noise, even though he was already throwing his legs out of bed. "It's always my turn" he complained in a slurred voice. His eyes burning with sleep, he walked down the hall to Oscar's room. With each step, the crying grew louder, more angry, more urgent.
“What happened, puppy?” he asked, still barely able to see, blinking against the dim light. “Did you have a nightmare?”
But when he got close to the crib, he realized that Simba and Sammy had managed to climb up. They were lying next to Oscar, taking up almost all the space, looking proud. Simba's tail wagged happily and repeatedly nudged the baby's face.
Oscar was red with anger, irritated, with the most offended expression a baby could have.
If Mark hadn't been furious, he would have thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. But Mark was furious.
"Get out!" he whispered aggressively, pointing at the door. "Out! Out! Out!"
The dogs jumped out of the crib, ears lowered, trying to look remorseful as they walked away. Mark picked Oscar up, taking a deep breath, trying to calm both the baby and his own irritation. The crying stopped almost immediately when Oscar rested against his chest, sobbing softly.
Fernando had woken up when he heard his husband's voice coming from the other side of the wall, but before he could get up the bedroom door opened and Mark came in, still huffing and puffing, with Oscar in his arms.
"He's going to sleep with us tonight" was all he grumbled.
The Spaniard simply lifted the blanket, making room for the two of them. Oscar settled between them, still sniffling, clutching the fabric of the two men's shirts with his small hands, pulling them closer. Fernando ran his hand through the Australian's hair to reassure him, still not understanding what had disturbed him.
The three slept together as if they belonged in that space and only woke up when the alarm clock rang the following morning.