They’d found something approaching equilibrium over the past few weeks.

While it was okay to stay a few minutes past their reduced hours, to visit with agents or subway trainers, absolutely no work was to go past 4:00 pm; if they happened to linger that long, they were usually ushered out the main gate by 4:30. Sometimes they would pick up dinner on the way home, sometimes it was a designated grocery day.

Regardless of any and everything else, once they were home and the Pokemon were taken care of, Ingo would wander away and doze off. He had a habit of choosing the couch for this purpose, and while Emmet hadn’t asked why, his suspicion was that, even if his twin was resting, he still wanted to be social in some small way, which he couldn’t do if he laid down in his bed. Emmet wasn’t complaining. It gave him an excuse to watch whatever he wanted while his brother snored against his side.

Frankly, he was amazed that Ingo was still going as strong as he was. Far be it from him to understate his twin’s capabilities, but it was a lot to deal with, and it was little wonder he wanted to steal away whatever bits of rest he could. He had months of interrupted sleep to make up for, the day’s work to recuperate from and, ultimately, was building up the strength it would take to give birth.

One of those things didn’t necessarily need to be an ongoing issue, and for days now, Emmet had been trying to figure out how he might convince Ingo to take leave early. His dedication to the station was admirable, but it certainly wasn’t doing him any favors. No one would blame him for taking some time to himself ahead of schedule; they would want him to do what was best for him and his sons.

Emmet idled in the threshold to the nursery, observing the two dark shapes occupying the bed. Excadrill’s head was tucked demurely, keeping her steel crest pointed firmly away from her human, which meant it was plain to see the utter contentment on her face as her trainer held her like a toy Stufful. The opposite was true of Ingo, whose expression-- muted though it always was-- was wholly hidden in the mole’s fur, one arm wrapping around her from below, the other making use of the obvious resting point that was his belly.

As Emmet watched-- just before he made to turn away-- that second hand moved minutely, petting a slow arc through the black t-shirt, proving that at least one member of the family hadn’t gotten the memo on nap time.

There was no need to disturb his twin further, so he ducked back out, nearly tripping over Galvantula on the way.

His hands itched to work on something, to make further arrangements before the passengers arrived, but nothing that came to mind actually needed improvement. The nursery was complete until proven otherwise, the apartment itself relatively child-proof-- electronics secured and cabinets locked, much to the bugs’ chagrin-- hospital bag packed save for last-second additions, and family members apprised of their basic plans.

To keep himself from vibrating out of sheer nervous energy, he began looking up what preparations might help in the aftermath, even if they weren’t necessary, and was mid-way through an unnecessarily fluff-laden listicle when his Xtransceiver vibrated in his hands. Already high-strung, he nearly pitched it across his bedroom before coming back to his senses and answering it like a regular person.

The gaffe must have showed on his face, because the first thing out of Drayden’s mouth was, “Are you alright?”

“I am Emmet. I am fine.” He said, trying to force himself into some semblance of normalcy. “And you?”

“Keeping busy. I’m sure you’re doing the same.”

If only.

There was no need to clue Drayden in on that, however, and Emmet kept his mouth resolutely shut, allowing his uncle to go on.

“I apologize for the late notice, but I couldn’t be certain whether or not business would conclude at a reasonable hour this evening. As it so happens, I’m on my way out of the Nacrene Museum and will be passing through Nimbasa within the half hour.” He declared, and already it was obvious where this was headed, “I’d like to stop in, if you don’t mind the imposition, but you need to be honest as to whether or not that would be appropriate at this point in time.”

Emmet certainly wouldn’t mind, but odds were high that he wouldn’t be the visit’s focal point. “Let me check. Ingo got verrrry annoyed at me last time I arranged company without his input.”

Already moving down the hallway, he didn’t see whatever accompanied it, but he heard their uncle snort. “Iris said she had a lovely time, if that makes any difference.”

“It does. But I do not want to be scolded again.”

He cast a cursory glance over the room before knocking on the door frame, but saw no notable difference. At the sound, Ingo shifted just enough to look at him over a wall of brown fur.

“Drayden will be in the area soon. Can he visit?”

He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the bluntly signed, “Sure. I’m not getting changed.” that he got before his twin buried his face back into Excadrill’s side.

“That is fair.” Emmet said, because really, at this point, the options were work clothes or paternity clothes that were only slightly more formal than what Ingo had chosen for napping purposes. Neither would be worth the effort right now. He stepped away through the hall before relaying the all-clear to Drayden.

“Has it been a difficult day?” Their uncle asked, a ripple of sympathy underscoring the question.

“It has been a good day.” Emmet said, “But yes. Even good days are difficult right now. So speaking out loud is too much. Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all. Thank you for letting me know ahead of time.” His attention strayed momentarily to the side, and he visibly raised his free hand to someone off screen before returning his full focus, “Is there anything I can pick up on the way that might prove useful? Lenora already has me playing courier tonight, so don’t worry that I’ll be put out.”

Emmet shook his head, and then spoke it aloud for good measure, “No. I… believe we are set. At least as far as the apartment goes.”

“It must be hard to wait for them. I suppose I got lucky in that regard; I’ve only ever had to chase after my brood.”

He nodded stiffly, not ignoring the comment, necessarily, but certainly disregarding it.

“Everything’s ready. Everyone’s ready.”

“In that case, I won’t be the one to keep you waiting. I’ll see the both of you soon.”

-

There was… a lot going on when Drayden found himself admitted to the twins’ apartment.

Emmet lingered long enough to ensure the door was properly locked before returning to the kitchen, where the majority of the activity could be traced.

“When I said you must be keeping busy, this isn’t quite what I had assumed.” Drayden said, steering clear of the maelstrom of ingredients strewn across the counter.

Fixated on the pepper he was chopping, Emmet shrugged. “It still counts. It’s recommended to prepare and freeze meals ahead of time. I can do that.”

Confident that he wouldn’t be caught in the act while Emmet was so focused, Drayden silently reached over to turn one of the active burners off. It would have been noticed long before it became a hazard, but, perhaps, not before its contents had begun to burn. There was no sense in letting the food go to waste or heightening Emmet’s anxiety.

“You’re correct that it will be useful for the quieter days.” Drayden moved away from the stovetop to face him more fully. “You realize that we’re going to help take care of you all, don’t you?”

“I do not need to be taken care of. My job is to do the caretaking.” Emmet declared, and gutted a second pepper to begin disassembling that, too.

“Alright, let’s slow down.” Drayden said evenly, a hand hovering over Emmet’s shoulder as he waited to see whether or not the contact would be welcome.

Emmet afforded it a single glance and gave a dismissive flick of the head indicating he didn’t care either way, so Drayden let it settle.

“What’s this really about?”

“I am being proactive. That is a good enough reason.”

He let his grip tighten, just a tiny bit, enough to emphasize that he was there to provide support. “Emmet.”

“Everything is ready and I need something to do.” That was reasonable. It likely wasn’t the entire story, but it was close enough that Drayden would accept it. Only… “There is something else. I do not know how to accomplish it, however.”

Before Drayden could prompt him further, he hesitated, then stifled a snort. “Actually. You are the perfect person to ask. It was your suggestion in the first place.”

“What, exactly, are we talking about here?”

Finally, he stilled his hands-- plant matter chopped to hell and back-- and turned to regard Drayden properly. “He has been asleep longer than usual today. That is good. He needs it. It is also bad. It proves that work uses up a lot of energy. More than it’s worth with the passengers so close. I don’t know how to ask him to stop.”

“Ah. When you said I’m the perfect person to ask, what you meant was that I’ve tried and failed in this matter in the past.” Drayden said, not without a fleeting measure of good humor, “You haven’t approached the subject at all?”

“I have… tried. It is not that he won’t listen to me. It is that work still makes him verrrry happy, even though it’s too much. I meant what I said. I do not know how to ask him to step back.”

Drayden grumbled a laugh, “Then it’s lucky I came by, isn’t it? After everything that’s happened, he won’t be surprised to hear that concern from me, instead.”

“I do not believe he will hear it this time, either. But thank you.”

“It’s no trouble. If he gets it from multiple sources, there’s a better chance he’ll give it proper consideration.” He paused and gave one of Emmet’s arms an encouraging nudge, “We’ll need to teach you how to tell them no; I can already tell you’re going to struggle.”

“I am an authority figure. I know how to set and maintain boundaries.”

Shaking his head, Drayden stepped back, allowing the both of them to go about their respective tasks-- but, before moving away entirely, said, “And I’m the mayor of Opelucid City. You’ll come to understand just how different it is when it’s your kids you’re dealing with.”

He heard a grumble as Emmet upended the vegetation into the secondary pot, but it wasn’t a continuation of their talk, so he turned away and started down the hall. As he rounded the corner, there was also a brief exclamation, which quickly condensed into confusion and a begrudging ‘thank you’ where the second pan had been concerned. Drayden snorted to himself and continued on.

Last he’d been through, the extra room had still been in a state of flux-- not quite a guest bed, but definitely not a nursery just yet. As he recalled, there had been some debate over how exactly to handle the Ducklett mobile Skyla had sent along,

He saw it now, hanging safely above in the corner where the two cribs met, both of which boasted a new-- or, rather, old-- feature: the clumsy patchwork quilts his own mother had sewn to bide the time she’d spent expecting, which had since been handed down to Lane. It was little wonder they’d found their way here, too.

His attention lingered there for several seconds, but no longer. Nice though it was to see the blankets again, they weren’t what was important.

“How are we doing in here?” Drayden rumbled, the lowest he could manage, as he passed through the doorway.

There was a divot in the bedspread that suggested, up until quite recently, a Pokemon had been cuddled up next to their trainer and his sons, but that was the only remaining evidence. At the sound of Drayden’s voice, Ingo raised his head to nod in greeting.

“I’m in misery.” He signed facetiously, and though it was clearly said in jest-- evidenced by the slant of his eyes-- the slump to his posture suggested there was an element of truth behind it.

His poor boy. If Arceus was just, it wouldn’t prolong this any further, but it wasn’t worth holding one’s breath over. In the long term, another week wouldn’t matter so much, but right now-- when one of his sons was so tired and rundown-- it seemed like it would make all the difference in the world.

“Is touch alright?” Drayden asked, kneeling next to the bed, and when he got an affirmative, he used that clearance to press Ingo back down. It wasn’t that the fight left him quickly as much as it wasn’t there to begin with-- the gesture of sitting up made only for politeness’ sake. Once he was relatively sure the point had landed, Drayden moved his hand to rest on the accessible shoulder. “You look exhausted.”

It was met with a halfhearted shrug.

“You don’t intend to go to work like this, do you?”

He shook his head, and for half a second, Drayden wondered if it wouldn’t actually be that simple.

It wasn’t, of course.

“It’s different during the workday. I’m better, then.”

He didn’t doubt it; that was likely the precise reason Ingo was as tired as he was right now. “I… understand, and it’s not my intention to rehash our discussion from months back, but isn’t it time to ease on the brakes? This can’t be healthy for any of you.”

“I’m just tired. It would be the same if I wasn’t working. The problem isn’t how I choose to spend the day, it’s the fact that I’m thirty nine weeks pregnant.”

Having no way to prove or disprove the assertion’s veracity, Drayden didn’t know how to counter it. He was inclined to believe it, though, given what he’d read. During the seconds he spent deliberating, Ingo reached up to move his hand-- and at first, it seemed like maybe touch was too much, after all, but then it clicked precisely where it had been relocated.

One of his great-nephews-slash-grandsons kicked beneath his palm, and he allowed his thoughts to move on as well. It wasn’t worth fighting over the difference of opinion; planting the idea would be enough for now.

“I didn’t see much of your mother when she was carrying the both of you,” He said quietly, and he knew that part wasn’t news, but his actual point would be, “However, our mother suggested quite strongly that I should attend a portion of Lane’s baby shower; I can’t quite remember how she convinced me, but I felt one of you kick that day. I’ve wondered who it was a great many times over the years.”

Without missing a beat, Ingo pointed down the hallway. There was a fifty percent chance he was correct.

“I suppose we’ll know where it comes from if your sons start pinning things on their brother.” Drayden said, and then moved his hand back to where he’d originally placed it. “This is in no way meant to justify Arceus’s actions, but having witnessed your conviction throughout all of this, I can see why it thought you were up to the task. You’re something of a force of nature yourself, aren’t you?”

Ingo scoffed and shook his head. When he telegraphed his intention to get up-- for real, this time-- Drayden didn’t stop him, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder to help alleviate the strain of it. The entire process was slow going, but that was better than trying to rush at this point, and once he was able, Ingo nudged Drayden to the other side of the room. Insistently, he tried to guide their collective focus to the Litwick-shaped nightlight that Drayden himself had added to the hoard some time prior, all but showing off its place of honor.

He appreciated that it had been so well received, and the sedate excitement was nothing short of adorable. In a direct contrast to Emmet’s nervous energy, it was incredibly clear where Ingo’s placid pride was coming from.

“You’ve put together a wonderful nest for your hatchlings.”

It earned him a searching look, pale eyes clouded with an ongoing fatigue, but no less keen than ever. He didn’t know what criteria he was being judged on, but remained impassive, letting the observation play out in full-- he was, after all, the one intruding in a soon-to-be-parent’s den.

Said parent edged nearer until he was able to lean in, turning to lay his head against Drayden’s shoulder, and Drayden hesitated, gauging whether or not to act on his instincts.

It was only for half a second, and then he bowed his head to meet the silently affectionate gesture.