You Are My Light Part II

252 - Sleepless Night *Modern*

Francois Olivier Jacquet de Valois-Angouleme would readily admit that the night his son was born, his cries had been something like magic to the new fathers' ears. Two months later, however, that was not the case. It's not the sort of whimpers and moans that he does whenever his mother is near and the baby is hungry, it's not the little coughs and wines he does whenever his cloth nappy (thanks, auntie Kenna for that idea) needs changing, it's not the slight grunts he makes whenever he needs his morning sleep. No, this time it's the large, red faced screams that he can only muster at night whenever his parents are not at his beck and call. And Grandmama Catherine, too, she stayed in their house for six weeks before and after the baby was born, it took Henry, Francis and Louis to literally yank her out of the house a few weeks ago.

The sound takes a moment to register, and he grunts in annoyance, before turning to look at his wife, to make sure that the crying baby in the crib hadn't woken her, but he finds out that she's simply not there. Of course she isn't, she'd gone back to work in the hospital the night before, and had been required to do a few sporadic night shifts.

Francis licks his lips, rolling off the bed to go to the pretty little golden bassinet that they'd received as a gift at the baby shower. It was his when he was a baby, and the design is beautiful even in the darkness of the night, it looks like the majestic Cathedrals of the France of his youth, so unlike the upper-class Scotland of his adult life. He does miss his homeland, but the business here in Scotland needed him to lead it into greatness, and the hospital Mary has worked in for years is obviously rather reluctant to give her up.

He shakes his head, reaching Mary's side of the bed where their son lay. It had made sense to keep the baby there, seeing as though the baby obviously needed feedings throughout the nights, and they didn't want to pump until it was strictly necessary, something about nipple confusion and bacteria that his mother had told them that scared them away from it. But now, Mary isn't here to pop out a boob and feed her baby when he snaps his little baby fingers, and it's up to Francis to get the little boy back to sleep.

Which, let's be honest, is a bit of a feat. Mary's always had the magic touch to get their son settled and sleeping with a full stomach and a clean set of little pjs. Francis is terrible at it.

He reaches the cradle, gently lifting his little bawling son into the air. "Shh," he tries to coo, placing him where Mary had taught him to, so the baby could hear his heartbeat, and he makes sure to support the baby's head and neck. "Shh," he says again. "It's okay, Papa's here, darling." he whispers.

But James doesn't seem to care, for he continues to scream, his little fists balling in anger.

"Jamie, Jay-bird, baby-bird," he whispers all the pet names Mary had enlisted upon him when they found out that the baby inside of her would be born a boy. Francis settles back on the bed, reaching a foot out to press at the little lamp on Mary's side of the bed. He looks longingly at his side of the bed, the warm covers making him pout, before he looks down at the baby again. "What is it, little man? Are you hungry?"

James bawls still when his father gets up and crosses the room, looking at the little baby station that they'd set up. It's far from the aesthetically pleasing Pinterest baby room that James has, but vanity cannot matter at three in the morning with a screaming infant. One handedly, Francis reaches into the little mini fridge and fishes out a bottle Mary had pumped, before putting it into the weird little machine that's supposed to heat up the milk to replicate a mothers' body temperature.

"Shh, shh," he cooes, lifting the baby to his shoulder, stroking the baby's dirty blonde wisps and tiny little back to get him to stop screaming as much. "shh." he continues still, bouncing around slightly as he waits for the milk to heat up. "Calm down, little man, your midnight snack is coming." he yawns, pawing at his own eyes as he settles in the overstuffed green armchair that completley ruined their decor, but apparently had magic abilities to soothe babies, so it was worth it.