The Last Humans (Age-Regression)

Chapter Fifty-Four: Food Coma

Dechen (Dada) POV:

I step off the airplane with Clara asleep on my shoulder, the crowd going crazy outside our house gates. We finally left Xeoph and it was a long journey home. Clara's cranky and cried most of the way, add to that we had to sort out more security for Clara. Overall, I'm just glad to be home.

Atticus, Calisto, and Grace follow me through the front doors of our house. It's nice to be home. I can finally sleep in my own bed. "I'm exhausted. Let's just go upstairs and go to sleep." Grace says as she hits the elevator button.

We all agree and pile into the elevator. I'm gently rocking Clara, when I feel her suckle on the skin on my neck. "Does anybody have a pacifier?" I ask.

Calisto reaches into his left pocket and pulls out a pacifier. He walks over to my side and gently breaks Clara's latch on my skin, putting the pacifier in her mouth. "Thanks, bro."

He nods and goes back to standing beside Grace. The elevator doors open and we all step out, automatically walking to our bedroom. "Is she sleeping with us?" I ask, gesturing to Clara.

"She can sleep in her swing." Grace says, gently grabbing Clara out of my arms.

Our bedroom is the same as we left it, except the sheets have been changed. Atticus and I walk into the closet to change into some pajamas, while Calisto goes to take a shower. Clara threw up on him during our flight so he needs it.

As soon as I have some pajama bottoms on, I walk out of the closet, and hop into bed beside Grace. "Dude, move over. You cuddled with her last night." Atticus groans.

"Nope, find your own spot." I smirk, wrapping my arms tighter around Grace.

Atticus huffs and climbs in on Grace's other side so she's spooning him. "I hate being little spoon." He grumbles. He secretly loves it but he'll never admit that.

I'm about to close my eyes, when Clara decides now is the time to wake up. I know as soon as I stand up to get Clara, Atticus is going to take my spot. Groaning, I throw the blanket off myself and walk over to Clara's swing. She's fussing and rubbing her eyes. Poor baby is exhausted.

Sliding my hand underneath her head and neck, I use my other to support her butt, and pick her up. I press her against my bare chest and carry her to the bed. Atticus already took my spot and is looking quite smug. "You look like an idiot." I tell him while rolling my eyes.

"Can you get her a bottle? I'm too tired to nurse right now." Grace asks, already half asleep.

I nod my head and head out of the room, and down to the kitchen. The kitchen is practically abandoned and quiet. I've never seen the kitchen like this, usually there are people bustling all over preparing meals for the staff and my family.

Grabbing a bag of frozen milk with one hand, I throw it in a bowl in the sink, and run some hot water over it. Clara's still fussing so I gently bounce her. "Dada's getting your food, princess." I whisper in her ear.

Clara's very little right now. That's usually how it is when she's sleepy. Her head is resting on my shoulder and my hand is resting on her butt, supporting her body. She's rooting around on my shoulder, looking for a nipple. When she doesn't find it, a large wail comes out of her mouth.

"Shhh, it's okay. Daddy's going to get your baba." Turning off the hot water, I grab a newborn bottle, and struggle to open the breast milk storage bag.

I end up having to use my teeth and free hand to open it up. Pouring it into the newborn bottle, I attach the lid, then throw the bag in the trash. "All right, Dada got your baba." I tell a screaming Clara.