Erica, to absolutely no one's surprise, is the crier - able to put on quite a show complete with wails of dismay, big, fat, crocodile tears, and a cherry red face - while Jack is the calmer of the two - he works himself up into a tizzy for two reasons - sick or hungry. Other than that, he's a bubbly, flirtatious, healthy baby boy. A heart breaker all around.
But, the fussy baby girl with that perfect lip tremble and those big eyes that just make you go, "Awww!", is able to wrench hearts out just as effectively - Monica jokes she'll be a huge hit on Broadway, someday - and three in the morning is no different. The first whimper filters through, what feels like five minutes after her last bottle, and Monica turns her face into the pillow with a soft whimper of her own.
Chandler stirs, rolling over to look at his wife, who is slipping from the bed, and reaching for her robe. "Go back to sleep, honey." Monica murmurs, opening the door. "I've got it."
He just grunts and rolls over to go back to sleep but Erica's whimpers are transitioning into loud whines for attention and he knows before Monica can even get there, she'll be wailing. He listens over the baby monitor as the door opens and Monica's slippers click on the hardwood floor.
"How's Mama's girl?" Chandler can't help but smile when his wife's voice comes through the baby monitor, soft and sweet. "Aww, what's the matter? You look a little pale, sweet girl. C'mere."
The rustle of Erica's favorite blanket, a squeak of hinges that he needs to oil, and silence. Monica must be holding her, now, in that way she does, with the baby's length spread across her ribs and the little one's head tucked into the crook of her elbow. It's always the twin's favorite because she's warm and soft and they're soothed by the dull thud of her heart.
"You feel a little warm." still that cute voice, she uses with kids. A lower decibel - amazing for a woman capable of producing sounds only audible to dogs. He'd been surprised how Monica's neurotic, obsessive behavior had been tamed by the addition of children and how often he found her just soaking in the twins as they slept, content with whatever condition the house was in, because she was far too caught up in her family to worry about that. "You got the sniffles, huh? Caught little Jack-Attack's cold, I think."
It's uncontrollable, now - and, my God, did it feel weird to practically have a smile split his face in two - because in a minute, she'll be singing a lullaby, and she'll think he's gone back to sleep but in reality, he'll be listening to her sing.
"Well, Mama's gonna have to call the doctor in the morning, then, huh?" Erica answers with a hiccup and a whimper. "Yeah, get you some medicine and fix you right up. But, until then, how about we go see Daddy and have some snuggles? Mama knows he's still awake."
Chandler just laughs, because of course she knows. But it doesn't matter because her voice fades out and he hears her footsteps getting louder in the hall. She'll be coming in, any minute, a sniffling, feverish baby girl against her chest, both of them looking for comfort and snuggles because it pains Monica when her babies are sick.
"I'm afraid Erica has Jack's cold." Monica explains quietly when she slips back into bed with the sleepy girl resting against her front. "She's not feeling well."
He merely lifts an arm, inviting them closer. Erica sprawls out on his chest, resting her head on his collarbone, and Monica presses herself into his side, wrapping an arm around them both. Monica's prefers head rubs while Erica falls asleep if you rub her back, and somehow, Chandler manages both at the same time, until slightly congested snoring syncs with deep, even breaths.
He falls asleep, that way - both of his girls in his arms - and he's never been happier.
The clock changes.
3:10 a.m.