Chapter 1 Parenthood #5
"Shhh," I mutter, pointing at Antonio's wide eyes. "He hears everything now. Little dude's a sponge."
Gio checks the clock like he's late for a drug deal. "It's seven. You're gonna feed him these." He tosses a bag at Noah's chest. "And the good kind of feeding, not the 'oops-I-forgot-the-spoon' feeding."
Then Gio squints at us. "And the diaper. Change it. Before bed. I don't wanna come home to a rashy gremlin. You saw how Lorenzo did it. If he can do it, you two have no excuse."
Noah holds up his inked hands. "Bro, relax. These hands are magical. I'm an artist."
"Show it on the diaper, Picasso," Gio mutters. I chuckle and rub Antonio's back.
"What time should we expect you guys?"
Gio exhales, eyes up to the ceiling. "Midnight."
"MIDNIGHT?!" Noah screeches. "Where the hell are you going, France?!"
Gio grins. "No, just out for a drink and then... bunny party." Antonio perks up. "What's bunny party, daddy?"
Noah winks, crouching in front of him. "It's a secret game your daddies play. You're too young. But one day, you'll get it."
"YAAAAY!"
Gio looks at Noah. "You're disgusting."
I laugh. "Your kid's in safe hands, Gio. And by that, I mean mine."
Gio's already walking backward toward the door. "Good. Have fun. Don't let him eat paint."
"Only the non-toxic kind," Noah adds. The door shuts. The silence drops.
Antonio blinks at both of us. Noah puts his hands on his hips. "Okay. We're parents now."
Antonio's staring up at us with those big-ass eyes like he's judging us. "You wanna dance?" he asks, outta nowhere.
I snort. "You know how to dance?"
"Yes."
And then he just... starts. Wiggling his arms like cooked spaghetti, legs going full earthquake, hips doing something illegal in seventeen states.
Noah's face crumples. He chokes on a laugh, and turns to face the wall, like he's putting himself in the punishment corner for making fun of Gio and Rava's son.
He looks like he just watched his entire life flash before him. Silent wheezing. Turning red. Absolutely failing at holding it in. I jab him with my elbow, laughing.
"Shame on you."
Noah gasps for air, turns to Antonio like nothing happened. "Tony. You are—INCREDIBLE. Like... you might be the best dancer I've ever seen, man."
"Do it too!" Antonio demands.
Noah tries. He fucking tries. Copies the moves, if you can call them that, then just collapses on the carpet.
He's wheezing so hard I think he might die. I scoop up Antonio and plop him on the rug between my legs. "Your uncle's an idiot," I tell him. "Look. Look at this chaos."
I point at Noah, who's still on the floor, laughing. He sits up with red cheeks, wiping his eyes. "That was... spiritual."
I kiss the top of Antonio's head. "Alright. Before we feed you... What do you wanna do next?"
Antonio leans in close. I lower my head. He whispers in my ear.
I gasp. "TATTOO STUDIO!!"
Noah sits up straight. "AGAIN?! You liked it that much?!" Antonio throws both arms up. "YES!"
"Well shit," he mutters. "Let's go then."
We get up. Antonio's now sitting on a stool like a damn CEO. Legs crossed. Chin up. He's radiating "I own this building" energy. I'm apparently his secretary.
AGAIN.
Noah's crawling on the floor like a feral customer. "Good evening, handsome sir," Noah says, crawling closer.
Antonio points straight at me. "Oh. You have a manager?" Noah says, dramatic gasp and all.
Antonio nods, full diva mode.
Noah turns to me. "Good evening, handsome sir. I'm here because I want a tattoo. I heard you have the best artist in the world here. In this tiny little shop."
Antonio's already giggling. I nod, dead serious. "You heard right, sir. He's extremely sought after. Fully booked. But since you're clearly desperate, we'll squeeze you in."
Noah bows.
"Thank you, thank you. Excellent customer service." Antonio stands, waves an imaginary clipboard. "This way, uncle!"
Noah freezes. "Uncle?! Excuse me, I'm a paying customer, not family. I don't do nepotism."
Antonio grabs his hand and drags Noah to the floor.
"Oh. Excellent service, sir. Minimal furniture. Love the 'we couldn't afford chairs' vibe. Keeps us humble."
Antonio nods proudly. Then he whips out his weapons, a handful of dried markers. Noah gasps. "These are your tools?! Wow. Professional setup. Wait—didn't you have that one in your mouth two minutes ago?"
"No," Antonio says calmly.
"Okay. My bad, king. My eyesight's been acting up lately." Antonio grabs a plastic cup, pours water all over Noah's arm.
Noah jumps. "WHAT was that?"
"I cleaned it," Antonio says proudly.
"Perfect. Five-star hygiene standards." Then Antonio stands up. No explanation. Walks to the corner. Squats. I turn to Noah. "Uh, sir? The artist's... taking a bathroom break. Nature calls."
Noah deadpans. "Is that included in the total price?"
I flip through invisible papers. "I'm afraid so."
Noah sighs. "Fine. As long as it's not itemized."
Antonio yells from the corner, "I HEAR YOU, UNCLE!" Noah cups his hands around his mouth. "LOVE YOU, KING. TAKE YOUR TIME."
Antonio strolls back in, then he grabs a marker like he's about to perform open-heart surgery. Noah's still sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Antonio pushes him flat on the ground. "Alright, king," he says, rolling up his sleeve. "Let's make history."
Antonio sniffs, leans over the arm, and sneezes, in the cutest way, right on Noah's forearm.
Noah freezes. "Okay. You just sneezed on my arm. That's fine. We move on. Bless you, king."
"Thank you," Antonio says. I bite my lip trying not to lose it. He immediately starts scribbling like nothing happened. I crouch next to them. "What's the design, artist?"
Antonio squints, tongue out. "You."
I laugh. "Me?!"
Noah looks at his arm. "He's tattooing his secretary on me? That's... new. Not weird at all. Totally fine."
I smirk. "You're lucky, sir. Usually he charges double for realism."
Antonio keeps drawing, humming. Noah side-eyes him.
"You must really like your secretary if you're out here tattooing his face on random customers."
Antonio shrugs. "He's nice."
"Right," Noah says, trying not to laugh. "Does he at least get benefits? Paid vacation? Dental?"
Antonio pauses. "What's that?"
Noah grins. "Perfect. I love the professionalism. Just raw talent, zero paperwork." Noah holds back a laugh. "Tony, can I have your secretary's number? Since I already have his face on my forearm."
"No. My uncle will KIIL you!"
"Oh wow, okay. Damn. Sorry, king."
Antonio sneezes again, this time on the markers. Continues drawing. "Okay, cool," Noah mutters, laughing. "No gloves, no sterilization, we're freestyling. Love that for us. My immune system's doing squats right now."
I glance at the artwork forming. "That's... that's a big head, man. My head's not that big."
Antonio tilts his head, offended. "Is."
Noah bursts out laughing. "Sir, that's brutal honesty. Respect. You've got vision."
Antonio finishes with a dramatic flourish. "Done." He holds up Noah's arm like a trophy. Noah stares. "Wow. It's... something. Looks like Marco if he got electrocuted halfway through smiling."
I nod. "Yep. That's basically me on a Monday."
Antonio beams. "You like it?"
Noah pats his head. "I love it, king. Raw, expressive, possibly contagious, but art."
Half an hour later
Now we're in the kitchen, Antonio is chewing on apple slices. I hand him another piece and grin. "Look at you, huh? Daddy and Dada take such good care of you. They even cut your little carrots for you. I bet that was Dada."
He gasps. "I love my daddies, so much. They're MINE." Noah laughs so hard he almost chokes on the piece of carrot that he stole from Antonio. "Yup. They're all yours, bean. One hundred percent."
I nudge him with my shoulder. "Alright, boss. Teeth time. Then we'll see some old photos of Daddy and Dada, deal?"
"Yessss!" he squeals, jumping off the chair. I'm now helping Antonio brush his teeth while Noah's behind me, stroking my waist.
"Impatient," I mutter under my breath, elbowing him lightly. He smirks. "Can't help it. You look too domestic."
A few minutes later we're all piled into the big bed, clean and very much warm.
Antonio's wedged between us. "Who'd have thought," Noah says, stretching out, "we'd be in bed by 8:30 PM? We're officially old."
"Speak for yourself," I mumble, adjusting the blanket. "I'm getting up later." Antonio yawns loud enough to make us both laugh. "Alright, little artist," Noah says, grabbing his phone. "A few pictures, then we sleep, okay?"
Antonio nods eagerly. Noah scrolls all the way up, finds the wedding photos. "Oh, I'm gonna cry," he says, swiping through. "Look, your Daddy and Dada. That's right, I married them. You're basically a product of my magic."
Antonio giggles, looking at the screen.
"Here," Noah says, "your Daddy dancing with Uncle Jin. Adorable, if you ask me. And this one, your Dada eating like the world's ending."
Antonio laughs. After a while, he just melts between us. "You getting sleepy?" I whisper. "Mmm. Goodnight, Maco. Goodnight, Noah. Goodnight, Dada. Goodnight, Daddy. Goodnight, Lulu. Goodnight, Blu. Goodnight, Lolezo."
Noah bursts out laughing, totally caught off guard. "Wait—you do this every night, Antonio?"
He looks at him like he just said something offensive. "You don't?!"
Then turns back toward the ceiling and keeps going, dead serious. "Goodnight, Daisy. Goodnight, Jin..."
He lists everyone. The grandmas. Even... Grandpa Antonio.
My chest hurts from how cute it is. "Goodnight, baby," I whisper, tucking the blanket up to his chin. He hums something sleepy in response. Noah starts playing games on my phone.
…
We wait. Half an hour. Maybe more. Antonio's knocked out. That soft baby snore is music to my ears. That's our green light.
I move slowly, barely make the mattress creak, crawl over Noah like I'm sneaking into enemy territory. My thigh slips over his hips, and I let my weight sink right down onto him.
His hands find my waist instantly with zero hesitation. Just sliding down and back again.