It's pointless to ask me how long it takes me to decide I've done enough for one day. When I begin to feel too tired to function and have trouble seeing the difference between economical and environmental practices, I turn off the computer and see the monitor's light fade into darkness.

I stretch a little to get that blood flowing through my whole system and only then do I get up.

Wehhh!

I turn my head in the direction of the sound and smile to myself. This must be the first time I've reacted so... positively to Devon's tantrum. It helps I haven't been in bed yet.

His room is my first stop and when I enter, he looks like he's in a complete agony. Like always.

Looking down at him, I lift both of my brows and take him in my arms. I try to shoosh him "What's wrong, kid?"

It's impossible to narrow it down what's pestering him. I try everything. I weigh his diaper and even try to smell it but it's still fresh. He can't be hungry, it hasn't been so long since his last meal. It couldn't have been. My third assumption is he needs some cuddling but after his crying doesn't die down, I am lost like a tourist without a map. Caressing his back, warming him up, wrapping him up in soft blankets - everything that calms every human being by default proves to be dismissable in Devon's case.

I whisper, I hush and still nothing helps. It's the creaking of the linoleum floor I have in the living room that makes Devon quiet his cries down in curiosity.

I turn to see who is my angel sent from up above, and boy, let me tell you, that's one hell of an angel!

Annabelle was, just like me, summoned from the room and brought here. Let me tell you, she only put on a T-shirt she wore whole day. Oh, and without a bra. That vision makes me want to wish Devon would cry more often.

"What's wrong?" She asks, keeping her eyes still closed. I'm not joking when I say she walks like an Egyptian mummy. A hot Egyptian mummy.

With great pain and heavy heart I tear my eyes away and look at the red-cheeked baby. Honestly, why? "I don't know, I checked for every baby thing and nothing seems to work."

"Nothing?" Annabelle comes closer and squints her eyes at the kid when she opens her eyes fully. Or tries to.

"Nothing." I look at him in my arms, inspecting his face like looking for signs that would tell me what's this all about. "What could it be, then? Babies don't have much to do."

She shakes her head and never takes the eyes off of him. By the amount of her worries concerning this kid, I wouldn't be surprised if his hair will turn red eventually.

"How old did you say he is?"

It's a question I hate and a question that usually gets me into trouble. "Around seven months?"

"I think I know what it is," she says with a slightly husky voice from sleeping. It's kinda really hot.

"Where are you going?" My whole body turns after her movement when she decides to leave Devon's room. My first conclusion is she just doesn't want to bother with Devon crying and wants to go back to sleep. I'd do that.

The knowledge of my apartment helps me to know where she is. When I hear her toes and feet slightly sticking to the floor I know she's in the bathroom and her quick steps must mean the tiles are pretty cold which doesn't agree with her. I hear the running of water and the interrupted stream of it. Is she washing something?

Annabelle returns, holding her hands in the air and I can still see the dampness on her slim fingers.

It's a bit surprising - more like creepy - when she sticks one of her fingers into Devon's mouth.

I glare at her in horror. It's not a bad thing if you like younger guys but he's only seven months old!

"What... are you doing?"

In the meantime, Devon has stopped crying and blinks up at us sleepily and a little relieved.

What the fuck is she doing in his mouth?

I don't receive an answer. Of course, I don't, I'm Nathan, the unimportant douchebag with big mouth running nonstop, right? Right?!

"Just wait," Annabelle commands me and keeps her eyes fixed on Devon. I begin to feel like a clothing hanger, only that in this case I'm a baby holder. I don't even deserve a proper answer to why is she gagging Devon!

She slips her fingers out and carelessly wipes them in the fabric of her shirt. I know I'd make her swallow.

In a minute or two of holding him and he seems to be at peace, he starts crying again. First, he's very reserved about it. The longer we wait and the more I try to calm him down, the louder he gets.

I start to panic while Annabelle leaves the room again.

"Where are you-? Annabelle!" I call after her and follow her.

I want to say something smart when she doesn't turn to go to the bathroom but I keep my mouth shut. I think I'd only get the unwanted attention.

"Come," she calls for me and instead of come I hear cum.

It's been a while, okay?

While I'm on my way and tracing her tracks to the kitchen, I observe what she does. She finds the drawer in which I keep the cloths usually used in preparing meals and puts one of them under the stream of cold water.

I have no idea how will that help a crying baby, unless you're goona put that over his mouth and let him suffocate but sure, I'm curious about it.

Annabelle wrings the water out of the cloth so it still remains damp and coils it into a snake of fabric. I still have no idea what she's doing.

"We don't have time to put this in the freezer but this will have to do."

Put what in the freezer? The cloth or the baby?

I pretend I know what she's talking about and go along with her plan of which I know nothing about "Yeah, sure. As long as it will help him." -and let me go to sleep.

Annabelle carefully holds Devon's head in place with her left hand and puts the coil in his mouth on which he starts to chew.

"You know, we could've just used a pacifier to keep him quiet," I inquire and watch Devon bite on the cloth like there is no greater feeling in the world.

It confuses me when Annabelle smiles in a way that says she nearly finds me adorable. Cluelessly adorable. "His teeth are growing. When I put some pressure on his gums, he stopped crying because the teething stopped bothering him. I know the cloth usually helps because it has the cooling effect, like with an ankle."

It's very likely I am beaming at her like she's Athena, the goddess of knowledge. I know I've read about babies and teeth but I'd never think of it, and I didn't.

She adds "And he's around the age when babies usually start teething. Though, they respond differently and it looks like Devon's especially sensitive to it. Poor pumpkin..."

It has happened for multiple times and I'm pretty sure it will keep on happening - my mouth speak before I do "And I get the crybaby. Fucking great."

Annabelle gives me the glare that is thankfully not the one which reads all of my sins. It's just a disapproving one that definitely shows she's slightly amused by the way I say it.

We stand in the kitchen by the counter for around five minutes more then Devon drifts to sleep in my arms with the cloth slowly sliding out of his mouth.

"It looks like he's fallen asleep," I remark the obvious, like the good parent that I am! "I'll take him back to his crib."

I hear her sigh, like mothers in the movies do after they had to wake up at 3 AM for the past three weeks because of the babies. "I hope he won't be bothered by it anymore."

"You and me both."

In his room, I carefully put him down in the crib and have a moral battle inside my mind whether would it be cool to leave the cloth with him or would he find a way to kill himself with it?

I come to a conclusion I'd rather wake up three more times that night than wake up only once, discover a dead baby in a crib and have Mr Brandon Ritchie scream at me to the hell where I'd see a vision of him sniffing my couch.

I leave the door slightly ajar and see Annabelle still in the kitchen, now leaning on the counter with her head in her hands. I don't know if she's tired or if there's something bothering her. It's a tricky situation for me but I hope she'll be her good old self and pull herself back when she'll see me.

"When I removed the cloth he seemed to be just fine. He didn't wake up or anything," I report and walk over.

She puts her hands down on the counter but continue to lean on it with her elbows "That's a good sign, at least for tonight. You'll probably have to get him a chewable toy that's too big to swallow."

"I think I already bought him something like that. I'll have to check tomorrow which one could be used in the middle of the night if he'll have a crisis." I make Annabelle laugh. I can't figure out this woman. She looks like a person that is humouristically very hard to please but then I say a common thing like that and there she is, showing off her teeth. Maybe she's the one for the lame jokes.

Annabelle nods, her hair falling forward and covering the face she's once again buried in her hands "That sounds like a plan." She straightens her back as she lifts herself up and yawns a little "I don't know about you but all I can think about now is going to sleep. And no offense, but I hope we won't see each other today again, especially not in Devon's room."

I smile at that remark. It's pretty smart and pretty funny. A bit of insulting humour right there but just enough to spice the joke up. Interesting. "Yeah, me too. Sleep tight."

"Good night."

***

Not that it's a de ja vu kind of thing but when I wake up the next morning, there's that scent of fresh breakfast again but instead of omelette, I smell waffles.

Unlike the day before, I remember what happened previously and mind to put on some clothes, even though I kind of like to see Annabelle blush so darkly.

I wear something similar like I did yesterday and welcome the day by walking out of the bedroom.

I don't see Annabelle behind the counter cooking because everything is already prepared and waiting for me to take it. As for Annabelle, she's sitting opposite of Devon, tearing pieces of waffles for herself, holding the spoon with something of orange colour and offering it to Devon. He doesn't resist and opens his mouth for each spoon Annabelle holds out for him but it takes quite some time for him to gobble it down.

When I come close with an intention to wish them a good morning, Devon finds it extremely intriguing to punch the spoon away.

Splash!

I stand there, like an Easter Island statue - half of me buried in the ground. Annabelle glares at me, eying my face and my pants. I want to lash out, choke the damn brat and... I don't know, probably fuck - but not Devon!

But then Annabelle starts to laugh. She's hiding her smile but with every second more, it gets broader and smugger.

"No. No. It's not funny!" I warn her. What is so funny about a grown guy being pushed around by a little incompotent brat?!

"Actually, it kind of is," she giggles and keeps glaring at me. "You should've seen yourself, such a diva."

If my face falls and I want to make Annabelle feel bad about what she has just said, I don't succeed or she doesn't give a crap. A diva? Please! I care about myself, that's all and I don't like it when little babies throw things at me!

She's stifling her smile down when she looks at me and speaks with obvious amusement "Are you gonna be fine? You don't look so good."

"Maybe because there's baby's food all over me," I spit out angrily. You know, because I'm such a diva!

Annabelle rolls her eyes, continues to feed Devon and that hand she has there, better be there to keep him from redoing that stunt! "Babies do that. If that's what bothers you, I don't know how you're gonna survive when he gets a bit older."

"No, Annabelle, babies do that to me. And not babies as in plural, no, it's just this little-! Mphm!"

She puts down the spoon when Devon is full and first fixes her ponytail "You're being a little dramatic. You think Devon never spat on me, or drooled down my cleavage?"

... hot damn.

"Yeah, but-" I fall silent and our eyes lock together. "It's not that-" Annabelle's looking at me expectingly. "This is stupid!" And I storm back to my bedroom to change clothes and to get away from any scolding Annabelle might give me.

As I open the drawer, I realise I'm too triggered to choose an outfit. I randomly pull out a shirt and trousers to throw on and call it a day. And what am I gonna do today, anyway? Probably just work.

***

Despite the fact my project hasn't been finished yet, my mind is somewhere else completely.

My plan for the solar cell looks good and promising but without actually testing it, I can't guarantee anything. Maybe it seems like a bad thing but it's really not.

I've said it before Lenart and Jed don't need the finished project or a prototype. All they need is a worthy idea, something innovative the firm could work with, and by the look of it, I think they'll be pleased with my work.

They are still fond of me. Maybe it didn't seem so when Jed came to talk to me privately but my plan is a good one. I've worked hard to come to the point where I nearly completed whole project in just one week.

I think I'm playing safe when I stop focusing in my work. There is only that much I can do on my own, with research as my only backup. Mostly I'm very thorough and correctly predict where the faults may appear but that's not always the case. That's why we engineers need to put our ideas to the test.

Now, that all I need to do is plan the presentation for Jed and Lenart, my mind wanders someplace else. With my allowance, that is.

Want to guess what I'm thinking about? Sex.

The last time I properly did it was with Carly. It was hot, it was needy and everything that I want to feel again right now. For some men it's not a big deal if they miss out a week, two or three without blowing off their steam but it is a big problem for me.

I think about how could I somehow sneak out, be with a girl and then return without Annabelle knowing anything about it. It's not that I'm worried about how she'd react. I'm terrified of it. She jumped to my help because she saw me struggling and buried six feet underground. I doubt she'd be as eager to help as she was for this weekend if I told her I'm off to have sex and she can stay here with the baby.

I wouldn't mind doing any naughty things with Annabelle. She could definitely show me what she had in mind as dirty little secrets but I have learnt my lesson. Don't fuck the babysitter. Again. I can't believe I fall in the same category with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jude Law.

Knock, knock, knock

The person knocking on my door does a surprisingly good job at turning my attention away. Maybe you are not struck by that fact but I remember very clearly when I was still in college how great the power of my concentration was. I was so deep in my studies, focusing so hard, I didn't even notice that my roommate was shagging his girlfriend in the next room. However, my focus was torn away from various mechanisms when she walked out of the room half naked.

Annabelle peeks from the slightly ajarred door, which tells me something about her. She could've knocked and waited for me to tell her to enter but she didn't, she just walked straight in. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

I click on the Save button spastically - bad experience, and look up at her when my finger starts to ache. "No, you're not. What's up?"

"How are you doing given the circumstances?" She doesn't smirk and she doesn't smile. It's that hot mixture of both.

Circumstances of me being hard?

As I want to give her an answer, I find myself in an uncomfortable conundrum. Does she mean what I think she is? Is she really asking me about... sex?

It's awkward for us both and Annabelle saves us from it when she explains what she means "Devon throwing food at you and that."

Aw, god dammit.

I've been seriously hoping for a question about sex, like 'Nathan, would you like to do it with me?'

"Oh! Yeah, I'm good. Long forgotten." Except it isn't, at least not the part where Devon thought I'd look funny with a carrot puree all over me. It's the diva part that always angers me.

"You sure?" Her brows furrow in an apologising way and I'm close to expecting an apology coming from her. It was her who called me diva afterall.

Though, no such apology follows, so I dismiss it before it makes me angry all over again "I'm emotionally mature, thank you."

"Are you sure about that too?"

I look up at her with the diva moment returning to the spectrum of my thoughts but when I see her stifled smile, it's hard to build my irritation to the top. Instead, it fades away and without controlling my reactions, I smile at her teasing.

"Yeah, pretty sure." Chuckling that follows is only the aftermath of me giving in to her teasing. "But I'm pretty sure you didn't come here just to discuss my maturity?"

"You mean immaturity?" She starts to laugh at her own joke and for a moment she reminds me of Justine and that time when I fell off my chair. I don't like it and thankfully, it doesn't last that long. "No, that wasn't the only reason. I'll take Devon out for a stroll and go to the store to buy some groceries so you can expect it'll take us a while longer to come back."

She has probably noticed I'm in a much better mood today, she didn't bother to tell me anything yesterday but she has approached me today.

When she mentions groceries, something in my head clicks and I can't believe I haven't thought of it before.

Annabelle has been babysitting Devon for whole week and I can't imagine my fridge survived it all without the need of being refilled. Not even once did she approach me and tell me she had to go to the store, buy eggs, milk, bread or diapers for Devon, and I know for a fact that if Annabelle and I really didn't eat much, that kid consumes a lot. He's like a bottomless pit.

I don't mind that sometimes I don't need to pay for certain things. Like sex. But this is a whole different story. Maybe I don't know Annabelle that much but I am pretty convinced she'll shrug it off if I ask her about the groceries she's been buying with her own money.

Might as well approach this differently! "You know what, I-uh, would you mind if I come along?"

Annabelle looks surprised, though she tries to hide it "I thought you had work to do?"

"Well, yeah but I'm almost finished. I can't do certain things without testing it and I can only do that at the headquarters of the company. Besides, quality time with the kid is important, right?" While I'm explaining her I am mostly free today, I put papers that were scattered all over the desk in stacks and get up. If she sees I'm ready to go, she won't object.

What happens next is the reason why I would suck as a psychologist. I expect Annabelle will have something against me coming along but her reaction proves to be a completely different one.

"Okay, cool. I still have to dress him up, get the toys and prepare the stroller for today." She looks at ease, maybe even glad I'll be coming along. It's a pretty good feeling for me too.

For a second, I'm at a loss of words. I hate it when I'm wrong and sometimes when that happens, I am pretty shaken up because of it. Though, I recover quickly "You don't need to rush because of me, if that's what you're saying."

No more words are needed and Annabelle's smile tells more than enough. She scatters away, probably tend to Devon, while I stay in my office for a while and put things back to their places before the atomic bomb of work happened.

As I put all the pens of different colours in the drawers, papers with plans in a file where I usually keep all my projects and clean the table of eraser rolls, it strikes me I've never been out with a woman I haven't slept with and took baby on a stroll with her.

I barely recognise myself.

Cleaning up my desk doesn't take me so long but before I go out into the wide world, I feel the need to change my clothes. It's one thing when you stay at home, pull on sweatpants that could as well serve as a cloth for the floor and another thing when you go somewhere people will see you. Because I care about that, I change into jeans and a T-shirt. Let's say it's tight in all the right places.

Annabelle is putting Devon right in the stroller when I come to put my shoes on. She eyes me in a such a weird way I can't say if she's horny, angry, sad or happy. When she speaks, I still don't know. "We're taking a baby out, not looking for chicks."

I grab the hem of the shirt I'm wearing, look at it and then at Annabelle "It's how I dress."

She lifts both brows, her eyes rolling up to the sky and down to the dark pit "And how you pick up chicks."

"Guilty as charged but this isn't in my agenda today." It's not a total bullshit but not really a truthful statement either. I wouldn't mind meeting a girl, get her number or something and then... you know the drill. But I just wouldn't really mind it, my main goal still is to go out with Devon and Annabelle.

Annabelle doesn't believe me. I can see that much in her eyes and her body language is pretty straightforward too. Crossing arms, leaning her body weight on one leg, tilting her head... A total cliche really. "You can look for girls if you want. I just hate the thought of you using Devon to get laid."

Heh... Yeah...

"You've got nothing to worry about," I reassure her, though as I've said, I won't fight the girl if she'll try to give me a number or her address.

Her eyes narrow and she hums "Hm, very well." She secures Devon in the chair, gives him a green chewable rabbit, a creepy clown face that plays music and his teddy bear plushie.

"We good?" I grow tired of waiting. In some cases I'm not very patient even though here is all about keeping the kid quiet and happy.

"Yeah, we good." She smiles brightly at me, then as she pushes the stroller, she speaks in the baby-voice "Is Devon going out? Yes, he is! And he's gonna see the sun and green trees and he'll have some of the ice cream, won't you, pumpkin? Oh, yes!"

I stare at her in disbelief for a while. When she notices the door hasn't opened yet magically, she looks up at me and I can't keep quiet anymore "I want ice cream too."

She laughs heartly and rolls her eyes "Open the door and I'll think about it."

It's hard not to like her response and even harder not to fight back. I manage it. With a chuckle that would desperately want to turn into a comeback but I manage. I hold the door open for her and lock the apartment when I'm pretty sure I left no one behind.

A/N: A mundane day without Nathan being overly stressed :) Would you agree Devon likes torturing Nathan or is Annabelle right when she says Nathan is a diva?

I was struggling with this chapter for quite some time and I'm satisfied how it ended. It was supposed to be longer but when I saw the +4k number, I was like 'Shit, I gotta stop!' and now it just joins the club of another chapter that had to be split into two instead of being just one hah! I have a problem xD

Join the Community Discord: https://discord.gg/W4CeMpYdkR (clickable link on my profile)

If you liked this chapter, don't forget to colour the vote star and leave a comment ^o^

~ Blackie