Missing [ST]

One Hundred And Four

Just one more chapter to go, at long last x
*Mature content*

September:

Enzo was crying again.

The consensus now was to throw a pillow at the baby monitor, or when he was in their room, beg for him to go back to sleep, because every night without fail, someone had to get up.

"Pleeasee, Enzo," Leah whimpered, into her pillow. "I just want to sleep."

The cries weren't stopping, and Steven figured he didn't have a choice but to get up and attend to his son.

"I'll see to him," he mumbled, swinging his feet out of bed.

It wasn't that long after midnight, which made the chances of getting up again extremely likely, and even if they both loved Enzo to pieces- he was their little miracle- they could do with a break from the screaming festivals.

Just one uninterrupted night was the root of their prayers.

"Oh Enzo," Steven sighed, flicking on the main light. "Why're you crying, hm?"

The thin blanket had been kicked off, Hector the Hippo was cowering in the corner of the cot, and the scrunched up face and restless body of a baby boy lying on his back, was becoming the Demon of Screamin's closest volume rival.

Steven scooped him up, bringing him close to his chest for a cuddle, and at least when his palm was cupping the back of his son's head, it was no longer hot and sweaty. The nights cooling down had helped, but crying was the only method of new-born communication, so working out what Enzo wanted was a process of elimination.

"Shh, there's really no need to be so loud. There's not a record to wake up the whole neighbourhood, and if there was...that's got my name on it."

Steven laid his son down on the changing mat, and un-popped the Aerosmith sleep gear to change him.

Enzo had already grown out of new-born outfits, so this probably wouldn't last either, but these custom logo designs would be made until he could wear pyjamas, because as the son of a rockstar, it was basic etiquette.

Despite feeling like a zombie with heavy eye-lids and a lot of yawning, Steven was very good at changing nappies on a wriggly baby. He was absolutely useless with Liv at the start, but practice paid off, and as gross as the job was, no baby would want to sit or sleep in their own mess.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the reason for Enzo's crying, so Steven's next hope was that he was hungry. Night feeds were being shared, because it was unfair for Leah to get up every time as the food source, but it was also a chance for some bonding time.

Distressed wails prolonged, a defeated sigh escaped Steven, as he waited for the bottle of milk to warm up in a bowl of warm water.

"Oh, my baby boy. What am I going to do with you?" he said, rocking Enzo against his chest.

He walked slowly around the empty kitchen, his comfort minimally subduing the constant crying, and when five long minutes passed, he made a check.

"Let's see..." He put a drop of milk on his wrist, satisfied with the temperature.

Having a tiny baby meant Steven had no problem cradling Enzo under one arm and doing tasks with the other, but growth spurts were going to challenge that efficiency.

"Please, please be hungry."

Sitting down, Steven held the bottle in his right hand, Enzo held in the crook of his arm. This wasn't the first time being bottle fed, but sometimes the baby boy could be stubborn and ignore the nozzle nudging against his mouth and continue crying when his food was in front of him. But, Italian stubbornness was not present tonight, and Enzo was sucking away in seconds.