This weekend has perhaps been the most restless of my entire existence.

My dear child Ellie woke in the late hours of Friday evening and I'm convinced she hasn't settled since. For two nights now, she's done her damnedest to keep me awake. Frankly, she's succeeded. All night. Both nights. The nocturnal devil.

Ezra is certainly not my friend at the moment, what with him being across the hall and therefore a secondary victim to her incessant screams, and I think the novelty has even worn off with my mother – she's been slamming coffee back like it's her job and no amount of concealer could disguise the bluish bags beneath her eyes. I'm not too concerned about my dad; he could sleep through a Chernobyl level catastrophe.

Therefore, when Sunday afternoon comes along, along with my promise that Elijah is due to come and collect her, I'm naturally filled with a glee unparalleled. As you can imagine, I'm less impressed when five o'clock rolls around and he's one hour late for picking her up. Now, any sane person might've called him, sent a text to ask if he's alright - not dead in a ditch somewhere, perhaps - but not me. I'm insanely sleep deprived, I'm twice as short-tempered, so therefore, I'm going to his house. No invitation required.

With my torture child in the car seat, ironically asleep for the first time this weekend, I throw on a jacket and march downstairs to see Ezra spinning his car keys on his finger. "Lets go." I mutter, running a hand through my hair as I yawn, my eyes heavy like led weights.

I'm so furious, I don't even think I could document it in words. Elijah is many things, but I never pegged him as unreliable. Especially on the first weekend of this project, which only means that I'm going to have to spend the next six weeks as the sole carer of the baby. But don't worry, if that happens, I'll be sure that I write in our documented findings that gender stereotypes are still prominent in households with children. Elijah will be especially lucky if I actually include his name on the report.

With me giving lazy direction to my brother with the help of my trusty google maps, we reach Elijah's house in about ten minutes. I'm not exactly sure what to expect – I'm aware that he has a younger brother, but nothing more than that.

We pull up outside the tall terraced house, hardly acknowledging the abysmal weather as I focus entirely on his car in the driveway. So he's home. He's home and he has a car and he hasn't bothered to meet his end of the arrangement. If I wasn't so exhausted, I'd be brewing for the a murder so brutal I'd scare grown men on death row.

If I couldn't get any more pissed off today, as soon as I'm out of the car, baby in hand, Ezra speeds off and flips me the finger out of the window, leaving me in the drizzling rain in nothing but a stained hoodie and a hand-me-down pair of Olly's joggers. Yes, he's really not my friend at the moment.

Ellie, you're tearing my family apart.

I walk to the front door and knock, hard, perhaps a little impolitely. A woman answers the door, no older than thirty, with dark hair and green eyes just like Hendrix. I can't help but frown. This couldn't be his mum - she's far too young.

"Hello?" She asks awkwardly through a confused smile.

"Hi," I answer, craning my neck to look around her slightly. "Is Hendrix here? I have his daughter." Her eyes widen in realisation and then she grins at me.

"You're Charlotte! He mentioned that you were working together. How ironic, with all the trouble you two caused and now you have a baby." She tells me through a chuckle. I tense a smile at her, still trying to look for Hendrix in her house. "I'm his aunt Tanya, I don't know that you'll remember me." I shake my head and smile at her apologetically. "No, I haven't seen you since you were little. Come in, I'll go fetch him."

"No, that's alright. I'll go up to him." I say, kicking off my shoes out of politeness.

"I don't know if that's wise." She tells me, closing the door slow and pulling a face which I can only describe as a grimace. "He's with company."

I scoff and laugh harshly. "Oh, then I'm definitely going up to him." I tell her, storming upstairs without a go ahead. I'll apologise for my lack of manners afterwards. I have a bigger concern at the minute, like the prick that blew me off the wave his magic stick.

If this is how he wants to play it, then it's lights, cameras, action.

I'm so lucky that only one of the doors upstairs is closed, so I take that to be his room. I scream his name in the hall before I barge into his room, hoping that my announcement gives him enough time to shield his modesty. Inside, he's bleary eyed, like he's just woken up, with his hair a complete birds nest. Beside him, tangled up in his bed sheets, is a semi naked red head who's wide eyed with shock.

"I cannot believe you!" I begin, forcing my voice to tremble with feigned emotion. "You begged me to have this baby with you. Promised me you were going to be a stand up father! Now it's your first weekend with Ellie since we got out of the hospital and you don't even bother to turn up!" I squeal, adding a mocking sob for effect, placing the car seat on the floor, making sure our plastic child is out of view of his female acquaintance.

It seems my commotion has pulled Elijah to his senses and he scrambles to sitting, looking between me, the baby, and his red head, fear flooding his face. "Osborne,"

"How could you do this to our daughter!" I continue, scowling at him with vengeance. "You promised this weekend you would help out. Did you forget, or were you just too caught up sending you penis down the tunnel slide of some flooze?" I snap harshly.

"Flooze?" The red head echoes with bitterness. She's nearly flushing as bright as her hair. I look at her and slap a hand to my mouth, looking up to the ceiling as I beg some tears to find my eyes.

"I'm so sorry," I mumble, adding a couple of staggered breaths. It's all part of the character. "I don't mean it." I say, dropping my hand and turning to her. "I'm just all over the place, hormonally. It's only been a week and I just haven't got a handle on things." I add with another sob.

Both the red head and Elijah stand now, and I nearly laugh at the bewildered look on his face. Luckily, it escapes as something of a snort so I manage to play it off as a choked sob. No laughing, Charlotte, this is improv. The red head rushes around, slipping on her pants and shoes, then comes over, patting me on the shoulder sympathetically. "Don't be sorry, I can't imagine what it's like." She spins around and points at Elijah accusingly. "You should be ashamed, treating the mother of your child this way." Then she storms out.

I turn to Elijah, letting the façade drop, as I let a smug grin find my lips. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything." I say sweetly.

He stares at me, still with shock, simply blinking as he tries to understand what just happened. "What just... what! Are you serious?" He finally asks, tugging on some joggers, thankfully, considering his little general is quite noticeable through just his boxers.

I pick up the car seat and thrust it at him, letting fury overcome my sense of satisfaction. "No, are you serious? Honestly Hendrix, I was so looking forward to getting a nice long bath tonight because Ellie has been keeping me up all night and you don't even have the decency to show up on time because you're two busy between the bedsheets?" I snap at him, working hard to ignore how much I sound like a bickering divorcee. He seems to notice it too because he raises a brow at me.

"My auntie let you in?" He asks, thankfully ignoring my outburst. I shrug, flopping on to his bed, too tired to care about what human juices might've been exchanged here just moment earlier. Frankly, I'm even too tired to fancy pursuing this argument. We'll just pretend that he's sorry.

"I hardly gave her a choice." I mumble, letting my eyes close. I hear him shuffling about but honestly, I'm too exhausted to even care. Ellie's here now, so if she cries, Daddy Hendrix can fix it. That will be his punishment for his poor fatherly dedication.

"You couldn't call?" He asks me. The bed dips as he sits beside me.

"You couldn't remember that you had the evening with your child?" I counter. I feel him push me slightly.

"I must've suffered a knock to the head recently that resulted in short term memory loss." He says, not bothering to hide the accusation in his tone.

"Other than the fact you totally deserved it," I begin, shuffling myself into a more comfortable position. "I apologised."

He huffs. "I suppose you did, in your own way." He muses. I let the conversation die there, not bothering to mention that his cryptic way of apology was very appreciated too. "You're really that tired?"

"Does my inability to move not give that away?" I groan back. I'm sure I hear him laugh and then his weight leaves the bed. He says nothing and that silence is all I need to fall asleep.

~

The crying of my daughter wakes me.

I'm still face down on my bed, drooling slightly, with my hair a completely tangled mess. I lift myself to look for my baby, the blanket that's been pulled over me sliding down my body. I'm quick to realise, thanks to my surroundings, that this isn't my room at all. The half-naked poster girls on the walls and the shelves of cologne and aftershave tell me as much, paired with the lingering scent of boys in general. And I know that smell, I grew up surrounded by three of them.

The bed dips again and the crying is nearer, but this time, Ellie is cradled in Hendrix's arms as he prepares to 'feed' her. "Go back to sleep." He coos, but I realise it's not to the baby.

"What time is it?" I ask, my voice raspy as sleep lingers. He doesn't answer, just slides my phone toward me, on it the time 8:15. "I've been asleep three hours? Why didn't you wake me?"

"Well," he begins, looking at me with amusement. "The baby books say when baby is sleeping, mummy should be sleeping." I groan and let my head fall on to the mattress again.

"Don't call me mummy." I tell him.

"Why? You call me daddy." He defends. I scoff and roll over so that I can face him.

"I'm mocking you." I inform him.

He shrugs and rocks slightly, lulling Ellie in his arms. "I like it. It's kind of hot." He confesses with a grin.

"Fabulous. I'll write that on the long list of things never to do again." I grunt. He laughs and takes the bottle away, sighing in relief when she doesn't begin to cry. "I'm totally not cut out for parenthood." I decide.

"Ellie's very demanding." He informs me. I scoff and watch him as he puts her back in her car seat. Much to my surprise, he sits beside me again, looking down at me with a grin as his hands pick some of the astray strand of my hair and toys with them between his fingers. I frown at the action, but as if catching himself, he lets my hair go.

"So, whose her step mum?" I ask him slyly. I'm almost positive that I see a soft blush tinge the tips of his ears as he scratches his neck awkwardly.

After a couple of coughs, he stumbles out the words. "She's just, you know." He trails. He doesn't even remember her bloody name.

I guffaw and punch him in the leg. "I hope you don't teach your brother these morals." I say. He looks at me funny for a moment.

"You mean my cousin?" He asks. I lift up slightly, laying on my front and cupping my head in my hands.

"Oh, I didn't know. I just assumed –" he wafts his hand to stop me.

"Don't worry. Either way, he's only four. I tell him that we're wrestling." I can't help but laugh as I shuffle myself to sitting.

"The age old line. Smooth." He smirks and hangs his head to hide it. "Well, wrestle all you want, but if you blow me off again when you're supposed to have Ellie, I'll force you to retire." I threaten. He holds his hands up in surrender.

"I promise, I'll do better." I humph and then clamber off of the bed, stretching out my muscles that still seem to be asleep. My hair is a mess and my clothes are crumpled and I can't help but think about how unattractive I must look. "I, uh, actually wanted to properly apologise." I raise a brow at Hendrix who, much against his usual demeanour, seems to have lost that arrogance that he so often dispels. "What I said on Friday was really not cool and I, well, I'm just sorry I said it. And I certainly don't agree with it."

I suck in the side of my cheek to hold back the weird smile that suddenly wants to show itself. Instead, I shrug and try to play it off as cool. "Well I don't think I exactly helped the matter." He nods once and clears his throat, looking away and distracting himself by fiddling with the chain that lay on his nightstand. Much like him, I let my head fall and my hair cover my face, a curtain to hide the strange reaction.

Why am I smiling?

Quickly, I text Ezra to come and pick me up and decide to see myself off. I wish Hendrix a goodbye but just as I reach the threshold to his room, I turn around and decide that maybe next week should be started off on the correct footing. That difference that I think I could grow to quite like. "Elijah," he looks up at me, a foreign look of innocence on his face, "I am grateful – for that night. I, just – thank you."  

"You're welcome Charlotte."

~~

A/N - Okay I don't do authors notes often but I just so loved writing this chapter. As much as I love their hate-ship, I just live for the moments they're actually nice to each other!

Especially (in case you didn't notice) since it's the first time the pair of them have actually called one another by their first name. I don't know, to me it's the little things!