The renovated guest room had since proven its ability to comfortably accommodate two grown men overnight, which was a good sign for its eventual fate, but it never hurt to get an experienced opinion-- and, given that Lane would be occupying that very room, helping with the household during the time Ingo spent indisposed, she deserved to have a say in the matter. For now, at least.

Ingo was fairly confident that the nursery had been set up the best it could be as things stood. He and Emmet had spent a fair amount of time figuring out the most economical floor plan months prior and had been adding to it ever since. While there would undoubtedly be small accommodations made to maximize efficiency as they went-- once the passengers were old enough to be moved into the room on a permanent basis-- it seemed very sound.

He was so confident in the current state of things, in fact, that his recurring dread hadn’t even driven him to triple-check that morning, and he permitted himself to stay on the couch as they waited, half-dozing next to his brother.

The state of his body was still far from pleasant, but in the time since his late-night anxiety attack, he’d been making an effort to challenge the thought. If his working theory was correct, there were only two more weeks to endure, and while he was under no illusion that things would return to the norm with any immediacy, it had to be better than their current state. He loved the passengers dearly, but he was only human; he couldn’t take much more of this.

It made staying here all the more appealing, leaving the pair to nap the early afternoon away.

Emmet was being a good sport about it, for which he was grateful. If he knew his brother at all, there was perpetually another item on his agenda, ready to be addressed-- but Emmet was humoring him, allowing himself to play the part of a bolster and let Ingo rest against him.

He’d hummed his gratitude at the time, but really did need to express it properly. And he would. In another couple of minutes. The part of him that rankled at the perceived impoliteness wasn’t happy with the delay, but was firmly outweighed by the many, many parts that were too exhausted to fret over propriety in his own home. His brother knew what he’d meant. Of that much, he was sure.

If people had believed their relationship was too close before… well, truthfully he couldn’t bring himself to care at this point, but one would imagine that the previous months had only made it look worse. Ingo suspected the accidental swapping of cabs might have been the final straw because, while boundaries still existed, they had certainly shifted-- starting with Emmet’s insistence on him getting a bra that fit properly straightaway. Strangely, it was something of a weight off his shoulders-- not to be taken literally. Resources claimed time and time again that, in the throes of labor, he wouldn’t care who saw what part of him, but ever since they’d established his twin would be there when it happened, that had been a quiet concern. It was strangely comforting knowing that, whatever lay ahead, even that wouldn’t be as revealing as a single night spent in one another’s body.

There was a knock at the door, and Ingo knew he should heft himself upright and answer it, but he just… wanted to stay still right now. He’d be hard pressed to say he was comfortable, but it was about as close as he’d felt in months, and the idea that maybe he could let it linger was a tempting one.

His pillow didn’t argue against it, either.

“Get the lock, Garbodor?”

Somewhere toward the kitchen, Garbodor rumbled an agreement, and working from the sounds in the apartment, Ingo was able to follow what was going on. There was a shuffling toward the door and the sound of the deadbolt flipping. The door unlatched and wheels ran over the threshold, the tread changing with the different floors, followed by a surprised-- though entirely genuine-- greeting toward Garbodor.

“We’re in here.” Emmet said, somewhat softer than usual, but perfectly audible in the cozy quiet, and Lane picked up on that, her answer equally hushed.

Her movement halted as a pokeball forced its way open and a shape cut through the calm air. That would normally be cause for concern-- Altaria didn’t exactly thrive in confined spaces-- but the cotton-light wing beats headed straight for where Archeops was roosting, and it would be able to keep him entertained for… a while, at least. He’d deal with it in a minute.

Tilting his head only enough to see in front of them, Ingo finally bothered to open his eyes as the wheelchair stopped of its owner’s accord. He tried to give their mother a smile, and found it leveled back at him.

“Hi there, papa.” Lane said, gently teasing, craning up to brush the hair out of his face, “Oh, sweetheart, look at you.”

“Hi, mom.” He grumbled back, somewhere lower in his chest than he’d anticipated, voice colored with sleep in spite of the fact that he’d never actually nodded off.

While her hand was there, she gave his cheek a pat and then looked past him, the emotion in her eyes turning somewhat more lighthearted, “And how’s life as an emotional support pillow treating you, dearling? Considering a change in careers?”

“It pays well.” Emmet said, affect serving the dry remark well, “I know you want to play home inspector. Can it wait a few minutes?”

“Of course.” The answer came almost before he’d finished the question, “Nice and comfy at thirty-eight weeks? That’s a minor miracle.”

In spite of the polite “Oh, darling, don’t,” Ingo shifted the smallest amount, wordlessly inviting her next to him. Lane deliberated, but seemed to decide it was worth it, because she haltingly moved herself from her chair up to the couch.

She’d never been a frail woman-- not even in the earliest days of her recovery-- but it was always slightly startling how much strength she had in her arms when she chose to use it. It made sense; Drayden was her brother, after all, but Ingo would be hard pressed to say that either he or Emmet had taken after her in that regard. That strength was there now, a deceptive cord of steel wrapping around the both of them without causing either to shift.

Briefly, he wondered if their relationship to the passengers would be anything like this twenty years down the line, but didn’t bother delving too deeply into the thought, content to carry on as he had been. He let out a slow breath and closed his eyes again.

It wasn’t long before Lane released them, settling in at his side, and turned her head to keep an eye on whatever was going on at the perch. Ingo didn’t hear any frantic flaps or squawking, but the sound of shifting scales suggested Haxorus had noticed who was here and invited herself along.

He turned his face against Emmet’s shoulder and sighed. It hadn’t been meant to grab his attention-- just to vent his concern at the Pokemon’s potential for mischief-- but his brother murmured back, “They’re fine. Don’t worry.”

Nodding minutely, he allowed himself the luxury of staying put and enjoying the moment for what it was. While it did nothing for the physical discomfort, there was something to be said for being boxed in by his immediate family. It felt incredibly secure, like he could rest without any concern at all.

Even while lolling against Emmet, there was the underlying need to ensure his twin’s well being. Most people would see it as the mindset of a protective older sibling, and maybe there was merit to that, but Ingo wasn’t convinced it was so simple. It seemed a little reductive to assume that his very ideals would change in a world where, hypothetically, he’d been born thirty six seconds behind. In his opinion, that was just part of being a good brother.

All that was to say, even when he tried to rest, it was difficult, challenged by his need to help wherever he could. It was a pressure temporarily relieved by their mother’s presence while Ingo took a few selfish seconds to relax.

He felt a lazy thump below his ribs-- which meant his cargo would probably be waking up soon-- and emerged from his momentary hideout, gingerly placing his fingertips over the spot.

“Mom?” He said, and once she looked over, gave it two light taps, offering if she wanted to feel.

There would probably be a better opportunity later, especially if the passengers were beginning to rouse themselves, but he wanted to make sure she got the chance to feel them again if she so chose. Once she left for home, they were unlikely to see one another in person until the pair had arrived. Much as Ingo loved the rail system, he wasn’t eager to take a day trip anywhere in this state, and making the trek out to the city was always difficult on their mother.

Her lips quirked in her own not-smile and she moved to accept the offer, the gentle pressure of her hand lingering for the next series of thumps.

“Yup, still in there.” Lane mused, giving the spot an affectionate poke, “Don’t know how good they have it, hm? Their dad’s keeping them nice and safe like a good conductor, and they’re blissfully unaware.” She drew her hand back and took a long breath. “Oh, my silly babies. Any day now.”

Slightly more with it than before, Ingo hummed, and at the change in tone felt Emmet shift next to him, straightening up in anticipation. He bumped his head against his brother’s shoulder once more before following suit. “I’m aware that twins have a reputation for arriving ahead of schedule, but if Arceus’s early influence was anything to judge by, I’m confident that these two will be riding to the end of the line.”

Lane snorted-- unintentionally alerting Altaria to what had been going on behind his back-- and started to say, “That’s very optimistic, sweetheart. For your sake, I hope n--”

And she was promptly beset upon by the low flying cloud who’d realized the humans were cuddling without him. The squawk that hadn’t sounded earlier did just that now, and Archeops came racing across the room, vaulting the back of the couch to land-- mostly-- on its trainer, and in his surprise Emmet accidentally pushed his twin away. It was helpful in that it prevented him from acting as a secondary landing pad, but also did toll the alarm clock for the passengers.

Not to be left out, Haxorus craned her neck over the back of the couch, snout settling into her human’s hair.

“Right,” Lane said several seconds after the onslaught, working around a mouthful of fluff, “How could I forget my silliest baby.”

Choosing to ignore the upset that had been caused, Ingo reached up to gingerly pinch either one of Haxorus’s axes between a thumb and finger, leading her head into a gentle rock. On the opposite side of the couch, unseen, he heard her tail swish against the floor.

The break had been nice while it lasted, but they did have things to do today-- and since their mother was there, one of the best options available was to start teasing her back. “I’d forgotten her favorite son already had children. Do you suppose that gets us off the hook?”

“Why have we been raising our much older brother’s kids?” Emmet asked, trying in vain to push an insistent Archeop’s face out of his own.

“Do you really trust this creature with an egg? You know damn well he doesn’t have a single thought in his head.” Lane seized Altaria by both cheeks, which served to still him for the time being and to let her verify that there still wasn’t anything going on behind his eyes. He tilted his head back and cooed at her. Unable to maintain the act, she let go, carding her fingers down through the plumage of his neck. “At least if I put you two together you scrounge up exactly one Joltik’s worth of common sense.”

“High praise.” Ingo intoned, shooting a wry glance to his right.

“The highest.”

Emmet was the first to depart from the couch, shooing Archeops off toward the perch, and once Lane was securely back in her chair, reached over to assist his twin.

While, by this point, the routine saved them both a fair share of time, it wasn’t strictly necessary. There were days where accepting the help felt like some kind of personal failure, and days where Ingo was able to see that it was quite the opposite. Today was one of the latter, and more than anything, it made him feel deeply, deeply loved. How lucky he was to have someone so wonderful in his life.

He’d never quite shaken the self-consciousness that pinged when anyone was around to see him touch his middle, but for now, that hangup was overcome by the twofold factors of who he was with and that he desperately needed to stretch. As soon as he was released, one hand steadied against his front as he gently twisted, trying to coax his back into cracking.

He was peripherally aware of Lane beginning to move past, and was only slightly surprised when she gave his belly an affectionate pat on the way by. It wasn’t that he minded, coming from her, just that he wasn’t particularly accustomed to it; while there was another individual whose casual contact would never bother him, Emmet emphatically did not use that privilege in this capacity, and the fun in making him startle had long since worn off. The Pokemon were a different story, but generally speaking, he-- and, by technicality, his twins-- were the only humans to touch his stomach.

“If nothing else, this proves you have a more resilient uterus than I do. Or maybe just that you have more patient sons.” Already on her way down the hall, he saw her move her head in an exaggerated arc, “Did the two of you have a timetable I wasn’t aware of back then? Knowing you now, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

The two in question briefly glanced to one another, amused, before trailing after her. Emmet likely would have caught up before she stopped, but, instead, insisted on keeping his brother’s pace, which gave her plenty of time to take a look around.

“Well, it’s as efficient as I’d expected.” Lane said, putting a fond spin on what might otherwise sound like damningly faint praise. She wheeled herself closer to one side, picking out one feature to subject to particular criticism, “The toys are only in the cribs temporarily, I hope?”

Emmet rolled his eyes and marched past, reaching into one to retrieve a Togepi-patterned plush, “Yes. It was a joke. We will remove the them before there are any infants present.”

“It’s unheard of, but the eggs are actually keeping the beds warm.”

With a slight smile betraying him, Emmet mumbled, “Now I know the nap helped.”

“It wasn’t really a nap.” Ingo argued, only half paying attention as he went to pick up the second egg.

“That’s what you think.”

“It is; I haven’t seen any evidence to the contrary.”

“Witness testimony counts as evidence.”

“What witness? You can’t mean yourself; you’re hardly impartial.”

“The truth is the truth. A bias means nothing to it.”

“The truth is the truth, but the person speaking it imparts their own ideals whether they mean to or not.”

There was a loud, unflattering snort from the same corner as the glider, and their mock-debate came crashing to an abrupt halt as the both of them followed to its source. The barest twitch of her lips was visible as Lane cradled her head in one hand, the equivalent of a beaming smile.

Without looking up, she slowly began to shake her head, exhaling her laughter before making any attempt to speak, “Oh, your sons are in for a treat alright. I cannot wait to see who you two end up raising.”