“Can I make a request?” Emmet asked, rolling his chair across their office to speak face to face.

“Of course.” Ingo said unthinkingly, and then, out of an abundance of caution, backpedaled it to, “Within reason.”

He rolled his eyes but, privately, decided that was fair, and propelled himself further until the back of his seat bumped up against his brother’s desk. “When the passengers arrive, I don’t think you should tell anyone which is older.”

“Emmet...”

“Listen to me. I know you do not want to think poorly of anyone. But it had an effect on you. It still does.” He was serious-- they both knew that-- but he locked their eyes just to communicate how serious he was about this belief, “You assumed Drayden would require more than just a request for help. That’s because it is something he has required of you in the past. Unfairly. It was not something you made up from nowhere.”

Ingo shook his head and looked back down at his work, tapping his pen against the document in front of him. “Haven’t you just disproven your own point, then? My expectation tested false as soon as he promised to meet us at home. He’s grown a great deal since we were children, and I don’t believe it’s fair to assume he’ll make the same mistakes.”

“Ingo.” While he’d hesitate to say it was born of disbelief, there was a glimmer of question. At the same time, though, how could he be surprised? His twin may have ceded to empirical evidence, but that didn’t mean he believed that Drayden had been in the wrong for treating them differently… which was a byproduct of that treatment, and maybe Ingo would realize that if he would just stop and listen, but--

Not now. That was for another day.

“He was wrong to treat you as an oldest child when we were born not even one minute apart. But that is not my point right now. It was a ridiculous notion in the first place. As much as I respect Drayden, I’m unsure he has ever realized that fact.”

“You’re concerned it may be a subconscious bias.”

“It is. Overwhelmingly.” And it wasn’t just Drayden who was guilty of that fact; most everyone they encountered-- from the instant they learned which of them was technically older-- tended to fall into the exact same pitfall. Ignoring for a moment just how insignificant the gap between them was, what did the exact length matter? Seconds, minutes, hours-- how was one child supposed to learn maturity in that amount of time? What were they meant to experience that would justify that extra burden? He sighed and pivoted his chair, leaning on Ingo’s armrest and into his space, “You do not see it in our case. But you would with them, and you would not forgive yourself for allowing it to transpire. Please listen to me.”

There was a long silence, put to an end with, “Alright, there’s no harm in testing your theory.”

“If you’re concerned about it, not even I have to know.”

He only processed the incredulous tilt to his twin’s head after Ingo had already started speaking, “I-- I think you would realize. It would be rather difficult not to notice which precedes the other.”

It took another second to find the rail yard from which that train of thought originated. “You want me with you when they’re born?”

Ingo froze in place, realizing what had happened. “Ah, that was an assumption on my part. Forgive me if you’re not comfortable with the idea-- I should have asked you plainly.”

“We are talking about it now. You don’t have to apologize.” Laying out hopes and expectations was a good start; a person had to have an idea before it could be turned into a plan of action, “I was uncertain what you would find appropriate.”

That said, he had… hoped. Not only so he could provide support in an incredibly difficult time, but for what it might symbolize. Uncle Drayden had met them well after the fact, after they’d been brought home and their mother had been well enough for visitors. While he hadn’t been a big part of their lives right away, it seemed proportional: he’d met them slightly later in life, and he’d helped raise them slightly later in life.

As Emmet intended to help raise the passengers, it only seemed right that he would be there from the beginning, lending whatever aid he could. Regardless of his own sentiments, though, he would bow to whatever conditions his brother set in this matter-- so it was fortunate that they seemed to be of a similar mind.

Discomfort plain in the set of his jaw, Ingo glanced away, to the door, “While I’m in favor of having a framework in place, I don’t think it’s appropriate to be discussing what amounts to a birth plan at work.”

“I do not see the issue.” Emmet said, perhaps a bit needling, but it was in the service of figuring out what was going on, “We gossip at work all the time. This is more productive than usual.”

“It’s also intensely personal.”

“It’s our office. We’re the only two people here.” Trying to highlight how ridiculous the sudden hangup was, he pointed across the room, to the couch, “We were right there when you told me they existed.”

“It’s not the same. We’ve only just decided what we’re doing and begun to make the appropriate preparations; I’m not ready to face in-depth discussion of their actual birth yet.”

“Ah.” Emmet said, and promptly shut his mouth. If the issue his twin took wasn’t with the ‘where’ but the ‘what’, that made a great deal more sense, and he wouldn’t press until the topic was easier to handle.

Ingo snorted and finally seemed to give up on the administrative work for the moment, pivoting his chair to face Emmet in full. Where it had been easy enough to recognize the arc of his stomach in profile, it was orders more difficult head-on, due in no small part to the continued adherence to dark-clothing-on-dark-clothing. “I do have a similar question though, in regards to your original request.”

“Hm?”

“Do you recall the fallout back when you broke your arm at the gym?” He asked, and while Emmet certainly remembered the second part, the first was far less distinct. There had been something about calling their mother, maybe, which seemed reasonable enough. He shook his head.

Ingo seemed largely unsurprised by that answer, “It was somewhat mitigated by Drayden’s position as a public figure, but because he was not one of our legal guardians, it was considered kidnapping for him to take you to the hospital, and for me to accompany him. If at all possible, I would like to avoid that kind of confusion. Would you consider a second parent adoption when the time comes?”

“Oh. Of course.” It was an insultingly easy question, but he understood it was one that had to be asked. He should probably try to get used to those-- there were going to be a lot of them coming further down the tracks, some undoubtedly from his adoptive sons.

Ah. That was weird. He was going to have sons. He was going to be a father. He’d been expecting to play the role of co-parenting uncle, and somehow, it felt a little unfair that he’d get to share that title when Ingo was the one carrying them. Then again, it was far better that he took it up than to allow the space to be filled by the specter of Arceus. They deserved more than that. All of them.

Plus, if he counted as a parent, that meant…

“Unrelated question: how soon am I allowed to find them a Pokemon?”

Searching his expression with a healthy amount of distrust, Ingo eventually settled on “...an indeterminate amount of time after they’re born. I’d prefer it if their partners were in the same stage of life.”

“Are you implying that I should acquire eggs? Because I can do that.” Without any fanfare, a hand found purchase over his face and pushed him backwards, though he was propelled only a couple of inches due to the lack of applied force.

Emmet cackled and, defeated, Ingo leaned back into his chair.

“You’re not going to let me finish this paperwork before noon, are you?”