"Babysitting"

early parenting years • Dylan's POV

***

"Ah, bloody hell..." I step back a few seconds too late just as the little man comes crashing into me, spilling a blue plastic tumbler of milk all over the front of my jeans, and himself in the process.

"Oops!" He looks up at me in a daze, blinking those big blue eyes that make him look like a mini Gav. "Sorry, Uncle Dylan!"

"Dylan, language," Melanie scolds, shoving the tiny wailing package from her shoulder into Gavin's bewildered hands before rushing to the kitchen for a couple wet cloths.

Not alright? or fancy a cuppa? or sorry one of the heathens spilled milk on you the second you walked through the door.

Poor thing looks... overwhelmed. Brown hair in a rat's nest, bags under her eyes. Loose grey sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt. She rushes over to where I'm standing near the front door and passes me the cloth so I can sop up the mess Darcy has made.

"Darcy," she lectures, sighing. "What did I say about sitting at your table when you drink your milk?"

She wipes up the milk from his hands and the hardwood floor, scoops the pouting four-year-old up into her arms and trudges tiredly to the kitchen, deposits the empty cup into the sink.

Just another Sunday afternoon of parental life, I suppose.

I look over to where Gav is bouncing Ophelia on his shoulder. He hardly looks any better, miserable sod.

"Hey, man," he greets, rather unenthusiastically. One of his hands is big enough to cover the entire lower half of the little creature propped against his chest, swaddled in white blankets and screaming like a bloody banshee. "Uh, think I'm gonna have to give it a pass, Dylan. Fee's all colicky. Hasn't stopped crying for..."

The teeny thing with lungs of steel suddenly quiets down. She lets out some soft gurgling noises before cooing like an angel from hell.

Gavin looks down at her, shocked.

I take a second to look around their newish three-bedroom house. The place is a bloody war zone. The carpet of the living room just off the front door is covered with a colourful field of Lego. Sofa cushions scattered all over. A little green plastic bowl of Cheerios and goldfish crackers toppled over on the coffee table.

I feel anxious and exhausted just standing here.

"If you and Dylan wanna take Darcy out for ice-cream or something..." Melanie suggests, sliding Darcy's milk-sodden shirt over his head.

"It's like minus twenty outside, love."

I just stand there in the front foyer, still wearing my boots and parka. They look quite occupied. Should probably make a polite exit—

"Take your shoes off, man. Coffee or something?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

We were supposed to hit the gym. Three months or so since the birth of his second child and the poor bloke probably hasn't left the house except to go to work.

"Babe, I think she's asleep," Gavin murmurs softly, handing Fee over to Melanie and sounding so very relieved.

I don't think this whole parenting thing would be a good look for me, if I'm being honest.

"Can you change Darce's clothes? I'll go see if she'll stay asleep in her crib."

She pads off down the hall with her daughter bundled up in her arms while Gavin bends down to the level of his half-naked son. "No running with food or drinks again, okay kiddo?" He ruffles the little guy's golden-brown hair and the lad throws his arms around Gavin's neck, belting out a sincere apology.

Happy little family they are. Fatherhood doesn't look too bad on the bloke, I must admit.

"Sorry for the mess, Dylan," Gavin apologizes. "Seriously, take a seat. I could use a coffee too. Be back in a minute."

He takes the boy's hand, disappears with him down the passage.

I shed my boots, hang up my jacket and tread over to the sofa, trying to avoid the blocks strewn about. I awkwardly pick up the cushions in my path, set them back onto the couch.

Victoria and I haven't spoken about kids, really. She's a couple years younger than Mel, so she still has time. I dunno how I feel about them at this point. After seeing the sleepless, dysfunctional mess that Gavin and Melanie have become...

"Uncle Dylan! Can you read me a story please? Please?"

He has good manners, this one does. He comes racing towards me with a thin colourful book in hand and hops up onto my lap before I can say anything. Oof. Sturdy little thing.

"Well, alright." I take the book from those plump little hands and he settles his head back against my chest.

Gavin calls from the kitchen, "Is decaf okay? It's all we have. Mel's nursing, so..."

"You're a bloo—" I catch myself before I utter such a blasphemous profanity. "You're a saint, mate. Don't know how you do it."

"I drink the real stuff as soon as I get to the office."

Darcy bounces impatiently, reaching for the book in my fingers. "It's called More Pies by Robert Munsch," he informs. "They eat so much pies, Uncle Dylan. Blueberry and apple and cherry and..."

"Okay, okay." I flip open the first page and start reading to the kid. Lad gets so excited over the stupidest bloody things. But his little round laughter is quite... cute.

Don't get your knickers in a twist.

Just as I'm finished the story of Samuel with the never-ending appetite and wondering how the brat doesn't have diabetes or something, Gav makes his way back to us carrying two mugs of hot coffee.

"Alright, Darcy. Why don't you go build the biggest Lego tower ever, yeah? Dad and I will come see it when it's done."

"Okay, Uncle Dylan."

I give his soft hair an affectionate muss and he scurries off to the other side of the coffee table and gets to work.

"Thanks, mate." I take one of the cups from him and he collapses onto the sofa beside me, letting out a huff. "You look exhausted, Gav. Fee's not sleeping through the night yet, eh?"

He blows out a tired huff of air and takes a long swig of his coffee. "Not a chance. Gets up every two hours."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Not getting any, are you?"

"None. Absolutely nothing."

I can't help but chuckle. "I have heard kids tend to have that effect..." He groans. Ah, damn. I feel for the guy, really. "What about your guys' parents? Someone to babysit for a night or two?"

He snorts. "My parents are still working full time. Too stubborn to retire. And it's hard because Mel's breastfeeding. Hates being away from them, so..."

Yeah. Really don't need to be thinking about Mel's tits right about now.

Speak of the devil. Her Highness herself makes an appearance. Gavin budges over to the end of the couch and she sits herself between us, leaning her back against his chest and taking the mug of coffee from his hands.

"So, darling." I shoot her a crooked smirk and she narrows her eyes at me. "Heard you're going through a bit of a dry spell..."

She extends one of her bare feet out towards me and gives my thigh a firm kick. "Not that it's any of your business, Dylan..."

Gavin receives a nice hiding on his leg with one of her small hands for being so indiscreet. Ha. If she knew some of the things that bugger confided in me about...

"Barely enough time to sleep, Dylan," she grumbles, letting Gav pry the mug from her fingers for a sip. "Much less take care of other basic needs."

What a sad existence that must be.

As a joke, I point out, "Fee's asleep right now, yeah? Better make it quick."

Except the look on both of their faces says that's not actually a bad idea.

Ah, bloody hell.

"Dylan could watch Darcy for a bit," Gavin mumbles against the top of her head, as if I'm not even here.

She rests a hand on his upper thigh, leans back into him and brushes her mouth against his unshaven jaw. "We could be quick..."

I think I'm going to be sick.

Melanie turns her attention back to me and gives me that pouty, wide-eyed look that she thinks will make me do anything she wants.

Known the woman for almost ten years now. I've learned how to resist her charm.

Mostly.

"Please, Dylan? Twenty minutes? You and Darcy can watch some TV. There's cake in the kitchen..."

"You're not serious?" I raise an incredulous eyebrow at them and they stare back at me, such hopeful expressions on both their faces. Bloody pathetic. My God.

"Mommy! Daddy! Uncle Dylan! Look at my tower!"

They turn their attention towards Darcy and plaster big, happy smiles on their faces. "Oh my goodness," Melanie coos. "That's amazing, sweetheart. Didn't he do such an awesome job, Gavin?"

"Wow, Darcy. That's a huge tower. Good job, buddy."

I might vomit.

"Do you like it, Uncle Dylan?"

"Brilliant, Darcy. Absolutely brilliant, lad."

He looks properly chuffed with himself. Quite adorable, he is.

"We'll owe you one," Melanie wheedles.

I shake my head with disbelief. "You want me to watch Darcy for a few minutes while you go quickly have a shag? Really?"

She shrugs, unfazed. "Twenty minutes. That's all we're asking for."

I grumble something unsavoury under my breath, which she takes as my resignation.

"Thank you, Dylan." She hops onto her feet and surprises me by throwing her arms around me. "You're a lifesaver." Bloody hormones. I give her back an awkward pat and can practically feel the tension stiffening her slender body. Yeah. Definitely needs to get laid.

Gavin gives my arm a friendly clap as he passes by me. They hurry off like a bunch of randy teenagers before I can argue any further.

Utter nonsense, isn't it?

"Uncle Dylan, can we watch Lego Ninjago? It's on Netflix."

"Alright, lad."

Thankfully, they keep it down. I try really bloody hard not to think about what they're up to while I try to keep the kid occupied. Bloody hell.

Ten minutes passes by. Darce and I wander into the kitchen for a couple slices of chocolate cake.

Twenty minutes. We take turns seeing who can build the tallest tower. I let him win.

Thirty minutes. Poor thing starts yawning. Leans against me, chocolate staining the edges of his mouth, staring at the TV, both of us sitting on the carpet in front of the coffee table.

Forty minutes. Seriously? "Uncle Dylan. Where did Mommy and Daddy go?"

"Excellent question, my dude. Why don't you ask them when they return?"

It's been close to an hour when I've lost most of my patience and understanding. What in the name of God is happening?

Would it be completely inappropriate to go knock on their door and tell them to hurry the fuck up?

Twenty minutes my arse.

I take a look around the room for any potential hazards before rising to my feet. Darce's eyes are glued to the television. "Be right back, Darcy. Sit tight, yeah?"

He doesn't even answer.

Cringing, I walk quietly down the hall, mindful of Ophelia.

Their bedroom door at the end of the corridor is closed. Why did they have to put me in such a bloody awkward position?

Thought by now we'd all grown out of these shenanigans. Apparently not.

I gingerly approach the door, wanting to plug my ears in case I hear any of their... funny business.

For a brief moment I think back to that night nearly a decade ago. The Christmas party. I chuckle in spite of myself. Yeah, once is quite enough for me.

But everything is nearly completely silent. The only noises are from the telly in the living room.

I rap on the door. "Oi. Finish up, yeah? I need to head out."

No answer. Bloody hell.

I knock again a few times and there's still no response. For the love of Christ...

"Get decent, you twats. If you don't answer in the next ten seconds I'm coming in..."

Please, please don't make me go in.

Dead silence. Bollocks.

Reluctantly, I clasp the doorknob and give it a twist, a part of me hoping to God it's locked.

It opens. Fuck me.

Steeling myself for the potential unflattering, traumatic sight that awaits me, I push open the door and hazard a quick glance inside.

Oh, bloody hell.

The two of them are passed out, fast asleep and cuddled together in the center of the bed. Fully clothed.

Rolling my eyes, I tug the door closed with a sigh.

"Alright, Darcy. What should we do for supper...?"

***

A/N:

Dylan. My baby Dylan. Can you believe he's nearly 40 years old in this scene?

So Dylan's mystery woman has a name... Except... She's not Alison. And she's not Luke's mom. Luke should technically be around 2 years old by now, but Dylan doesn't seem to know he exists... Theories?

(The truth may or may not be revealed in the next chapter...)

Sorry for any Dylan x Alison fans out there. They just weren't meant to be.

XOXO Ami