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“Mel?” Hunter asks as he ducks into the nursery. “Shift change.”
Melinda looks up from where she’s sitting in the rocking chair, their daughter nestled in her arms. Scarlet whimpers and pushes her face deeper into Melinda’s shirt, and Hunter knows it’s going to be hell to hand the baby over. She’s teething, which means she’s in as much pain as she’s ever experienced in her short life. Sleeping is out of the question, even with the numbing gel they’ve been applying religiously and the ice-cold rings Scarlet gnaws on when she’s not chewing on someone’s hand.
“Just go back to sleep,” Melinda sighs, resuming her rocking. “She’s not going to let go of me.”
“You need sleep, too, love.” Hunter’s made his way across the room, and he pushes a strand of Melinda’s hair behind her ear as she rocks. She’s already drawn the short end of the stick since Scarlet won’t take a bottle, making Melinda the only one capable of feeding her.
Mel just shrugs one shoulder helplessly. Hunter understands - none of them had ever expected to end up as parents, so they hadn’t planned for this, or at least not as Hunter wished they had. Having a real, live human that’s entirely dependent on him and his partners is more than a little overwhelming.
“Come here, little bird.” Hunter reaches for Scarlet, and as Mel had predicted, their daughter doesn’t let go at first. After a moment, though, Scarlet relents and buries herself in Hunter’s shirt instead. She’s drooling quite a bit, immediately dampening his shirt, but the baby lets out a pleased little huff at having something new to chew on.
“And now mama can go to bed,” Hunter says, pressing his lips against Scarlet’s head. Even when Scarlet fusses Hunter enjoys holding her - she still has just enough of that new baby smell to be comforting, not to mention hair and skin that’s impossibly soft. Her whimpers make him more upset than annoyed, even if he is running on too little sleep.
“I’ll stay here for a while,” Mel says, leaning back in the rocking chair as Hunter begins to bounce the baby. “Enjoy the view.” Hunter can’t see what’s enjoyable about him in an old sleep shirt and an even older pair of boxers, but Mel always has been a little strange. She says that’s why she loves him, and Hunter agrees most days.
“And leave me cold and alone?”
Hunter turns to see Bobbi leaning on the door frame, looking just as tired as he and Mel do. Half of her hair has escaped the messy bun on her head, and the circles under her eyes are darker than ever.
“I thought you’d be too out of it to notice,” Mel answers. “Guess none of us have been sleeping right.”
“You can say that again.” Bobbi trudges over to the rocking chair, sitting on the floor at Melinda’s feet and leaning against her legs. “I just feel so bad for her.”
Scarlet lets out a whine to prove Bobbi’s point. Hunter keeps swaying while his daughter roots into his shoulder, tiny fist curling into the fabric of his sleep shirt.
“She’s got to fall asleep eventually,” Melinda says, though she doesn’t look so sure. “She must be exhausted, too.” Hunter’s inclined to agree; being a growing baby is difficult even with the requisite amount of sleep. The doctor assured them that Scarlet is fine and her reaction to teething is normal, but every night the sleeplessness continues Hunter’s tempted to demand another appointment so that his baby can feel better.
“Whenever I couldn’t sleep, my dad would sing to me,” Bobbi says, eyes sliding shut. “It’s how I got my call sign. Listening to him sing was my first happy memory.”
Hunter’s eyebrows go up. He’s never heard this story before, not even when he and Bob had thought about having kids during their first marriage.
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, mummy’s going to buy you a mockingbird.” Hunter rocks Scarlet in time to Bobbi’s singing, humming along beneath his breath. Bobbi has a nice voice, but it’s been a long time since he’s heard her sing.
“If that mockingbird don’t sing, mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.” Mel’s voice is rougher than Bobbi’s, but in a way that suggests lack of sleep more than lack of musical experience. The diamond engagement ring on her finger glitters in the light of the single lamp illuminating the nursery, and Hunter manages a small smile over Scarlet’s shoulder.
Then it’s his turn to sing. “And if that diamond ring turns brass, papa’s gonna buy you a looking glass.” He knows his voice isn’t as nice as Bobbi or Mel’s, but he can mostly carry a tune. Scarlet sighs softly, and Hunter doesn’t dare look down to see if her eyes are sliding closed. They’ve tired lullabies to get her to sleep before, but always the recorded kind, which Scarlet had not been a fan of. Hunter couldn’t believe they’d never tried singing to her before. He thinks it’s probably because none of them actually enjoy singing - but they’ve done less pleasant things for their daughter than sing a lullaby.
They trade off lyrics, and Hunter feels the moment Scarlet goes slack in his arms. He wants to cheer, but that would serve no purpose other than to wake the baby up, so he continues rocking her as they finish the song. Even though he could put the baby down, he doesn’t want to - partially in case it wakes her up, but partially because it’s nice to hold his daughter without her being on the verge of tears.
He manages to situate himself on the floor next to Bobbi without dropping the baby.
“So all those nights you wouldn’t go to sleep, I could’ve just sang you a lullaby?” Hunter teases, pressing a quick kiss against Bobbi’s temple.
“I wouldn’t say no to one now,” Bobbi murmurs, leaning against his shoulder. Hunter adjusts Scarlet so he can hold her while also being a comfortable pillow for Bobbi. He twists to see Mel’s eyes already slipping closed - the baby wasn’t the only one who was lulled to sleep by the rocking chair.
“My parents never sang me any,” he whispers to Bobbi. “They always just put on church hymns for me.”
“Church hymns?” Bobbi repeats sleepily.
“Like you never fell asleep when your parents brought you to church.”
Bobbi yawns rather than responding, cuddling closer to Hunter. He assumes by Mel’s silence she’s already asleep, or close enough to it she didn’t want to join in the bickering.
“Swing low, sweet chariot…”
By the time he’s through the first verse, Bobbi’s breathing slowly and deeply. The rocking chair’s stilled, alerting Hunter that Mel’s also in dreamland. Hunter smiled to himself and continued humming hymns until he, too, was fast asleep.