Sometimes, busy hands made a hard conversation just a little bit easier to tackle.

It wasn’t safe for him to handle the polish used on their steel types anymore, so in the pursuit of fairness, Ingo had taken up grooming Galvantula and Archeops-- the former was easy, all she wanted to do was cozy up to his middle while he brushed her fur out and checked her over, but the latter sometimes necessitated… improvisation.

Which was how Ingo found the courage to broach an otherwise intimidating subject while Archeops sprawled bonelessly on his lap, a wayward sleep mask of Elesa’s strapped firmly over its eyes.

It was efficient, not dignified.

“I realize that we need to finalize the official statement; though I’m loathe to delay it further, I believe it may require revision before being made public.” He began, working his fingers into the downy under layer. Several tufts flew loose without any further provocation.

All it took was the phrase ‘official statement’ for Emmet to see his opening, and he pounced without looking away from the book propped up against his knees. “So you agree. It’s too wordy.”

“Well no, I still believe it’s important to pad it out with other information relevant to operations. My point was actually the end destination itself.”

“Second thoughts?” He asked, raising his eyes to meet his brother’s.

“I’m not entirely certain what route to take anymore.” Ingo admitted quietly.

Emmet hummed. “Yup. I’m not surprised to hear that. Not after our last talk.”

“It’s not that I’ve left the wheelhouse going full speed in the opposite direction; just that I had failed to consider this course at all until recently.”

One of Archeops’s wings fluttered in slumber, creating an updraft of free floating down that Ingo leaned away from. All that served to do was keep it out of his mouth; the off-white fluff was one of several reasons Archeops’ grooming didn’t usually fall to him, and it was a foregone conclusion that this shirt would need a thorough lint-rolling after the fact.

Though it couldn’t have been comfortable the way it left him with the hardback sandwiched between his lap and chest, Emmet leaned forward to pick several of the larger tufts off.

When he settled into place again, he said, “The solution is easy enough. What would that track entail?”

“I’m not sure why you’re humoring me; keeping them would change everything.” Depositing the handful of down off to the side-- well out of flapping range-- made a fantastic excuse to avoid eye contact for a moment.

“It doesn’t hurt to consider our options. They’re just thoughts.”

“True, but not all thoughts are valid. I find myself fixating on-- of all things-- whether or not I would be able to recognize them in twenty years’ time, should our paths happen to cross. It’s a ridiculous notion. They don’t even look human yet.” Ingo said, eyes trained guiltily on the small pile of accumulated fluff.

“I should not have told you I saw him.” Emmet muttered to himself, and almost immediately went back on it, “I do not regret it, however. The circumstances are completely removed from one another. Everything he did was his choice. All you did was turn up for work. That is not the same as consenting to a pregnancy. You would not be negligent for following either track.”

When that failed to elicit a reply, he made a frustrated little noise and shut the book. A moment later, he slotted himself in at his twin’s side, wiggling under Archeops’s limp rump to fit in more snugly. “You are trying to respond to an unwanted situation as best you can. It’s admirable that you want to do better than dad. I understand it is extra sensitive right now. But do not let his absence decide for you.”

Doing his utmost not to start tearing up over nothing, Ingo let his head tip to the side, bumping lightly against Emmet’s.

Emmet leaned in harder. “Be sure to factor yourself into what you consider ‘best’. It’s true that raising them would change things. But I promised that I would be here for you. That was not dependent on one outcome over the other. We are a two-car train.”

One of Ingo’s hands trailed up from Archeops’s wing to hover over his swollen middle. “Even if I do change my mind?”

“Some trains pick up passengers. It helps if there are more cars to balance the load.”

He promptly broke the moment by adding, “We already train trainers. It cannot be that different.”

“Emmet.” Ingo said flatly, but accepted the sharp turn, busying his hands by pinching ruffled barbs back into place. Archeops snored appreciatively. “When was the last time you interacted with an infant apart from hearing one cry during rush hour?”

“Do the younger subway trainers count?”

“Oda is five years old. That’s several stations down the line.” Struggling to maintain his unamused air, Ingo asked, “Are you familiar with the concept of an infant? I don’t want to hear a word about Joltik from you.”

It was difficult at such close proximity, but his brother made a point of opening the book and hiding behind it.

Giving up on the act entirely, Ingo let himself chuckle and gingerly transferred Archeops into its trainer’s custody. The bird didn’t so much as twitch as he was moved bodily from one lap to the other. Fingers hooking over the hardback’s top edge, Ingo pulled it down far enough to make eye contact, which was all it took for Emmet to follow suit, dropping their game. And also the book. Still no reaction from Archeops.

“Thank you. This helped more than I can express, and I’ll do my best to keep what we’ve discussed in mind.” Ingo said, plucking a bit of down from his twin’s hair and smoothing it back into place. He was rewarded with a second headbutt, and then an unrelated fluttering against his side. “I believe my passengers have departed from the sleeper car.”

“Is that what we’re calling them now?” Emmet asked, amusement shining in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t you know? You coined it; I thought it was cute.”

“Cute?” Emmet echoed, bemused, “Huh. I had not considered that they were allowed to be cute.”

Of course he hadn’t. The concept of keeping them after birth hadn’t been remotely plausible until this point; what reason was there to use endearments or risk getting attached when the plan had always been to set the younger twins down their own track?

It made Ingo wonder how much of perception was dependent on what a person let themselves believe. Some saw the concept of having an ideal as an immutable thing, of holding onto a singular belief and not letting go, no matter what reality they encountered. That was a horrible way to go about it, perpetuating the clash of ideals and truths.

An ideal wasn’t supposed to supplant the truth, it was supposed to focus it. To hone it into something worth working toward.

His goal in this-- his ideal-- had been twofold: to endure what Arceus had put upon him and to do his best for the passengers while he carried them. It had been his belief from the outset that their existence hadn’t been something to hold against them. How horrible the thought, to saddle a child with the burden their own conception, to blame them for who and what they were.

He shook his head, brushing the reverie off and stood, “Anything can be cute if a person cares enough.”

And that much was true; he cared about the pair. He didn’t know in what capacity he cared, but given the amount of internal debate he’d put toward the subject, there was no denying that they were a matter he was willing to concern himself with.

Without shifting his attention one iota, Emmet slowly hoisted Archeops into the air by its armpits. The sleep mask was slightly askew from all the movement and there was down sticking in the line of drool running down its maw. One partially-visible eye cracked open, and it gave a sleepy chirp that was somehow both unpleasantly dry and muffled through a filter of bird drool.

The raptor had clearly been very comfortable, and very deeply unconscious.

“Tell him he’s cute.” Emmet demanded, the pinch of his eyes gleeful, insistently holding Archeops up and forward just a little bit farther, “Look at him. Don’t you love him? Tell him how cute he is.”

“Incredibly cute.” Ingo said without hesitation, curling a finger beneath its chin in a consolation scratch. While he was leaning in, he moved to muss Emmet’s hair. “This one’s also adorable.”