“We could take an extended leave of absence.” Emmet suggested one evening, toying with Durant’s antennae as it snoozed in his lap, “We haven’t taken a vacation in a verrrry long time. If we time it right, no one will know the reason for it.”

While dubious, Ingo gave it a fair amount of consideration as he finished changing out Haxorus’s bedding. As he returned from putting her favorite tusk-marked blanket in the wash, he finally responded, “It’s a possibility, but it hinges on a timetable we can’t fully anticipate. We would need to ensure that there are substitutes in place and that all of our outstanding responsibilities are filled prior to departure, but there’s no way to account for when I may… begin to show.”

Watching as she investigated her bed and approvingly nested in, he took a seat himself, settled against the arm of the couch. He made a point of using it as intended instead of sitting on the floor next to it.

“At least sixteen weeks. Usually later in a first pregnancy.” Emmet said with an immediacy that might have surprised the uninitiated.

Ingo emphatically didn’t count under that umbrella, having a) grown up right next to him and b) read the exact same timeline. “In theory, yes, but that could be offset by any number of variables; for instance, we don’t know if the circumstance overrides the hereditary pattern of multiples.”

“It should be possible to confirm at ten weeks. That still leaves plenty of time.”

“You don’t need to treat this as if you’re optimizing--” He stopped cold as something occurred to him, and shoved himself away from the couch entirely so he could meet Emmet at his own level, making accusatory eye contact, “If you’re applying breeding methodology to me, I will not step in the next time Elesa and Skyla try to talk you onto a plane.”

“Aren’t humans just Pokemon who started catching other Pokemon?” Emmet teased, waving Durant’s antennae at him, “No. I just like to be informed. You understand.”

Though not entirely convinced, Ingo backed down, letting his weight rest against the couch. It only took half a minute for Crustle to scuttle up, hoping he might piggyback off of Durant’s idea. He inched forward, testing the waters, and when Ingo allowed him to rest the front claws on his person, hastily scampered away to deposit his shell across the room; within another thirty seconds, he’d folded himself comfortably on his trainer’s lap.

“While leaving central Unova might allow us to take a detour around certain obstacles, I’m not entirely sure it would be worth the trouble.” The rhythmic motion of petting down Crustle’s exoskeleton was soothing-- grounding even, which made sense in a funny way. “Lying low without leaving the region is unlikely to produce the results we’d hope for; the rail system is simply too wide reaching.”

“I have never heard a complaint about that. And from you! Scandalous.”

“No one will ever believe you.” Ingo said and, without missing a beat, returned to his point, “Working from your estimate, that would be maximum of twenty four weeks abroad without taking any recovery time into account. We would essentially be moving on a very short term basis. I’m not convinced that it’s the best course of action to take.”

Emmet cocked his head, brows raised in question, “Well. What do you want?”

“I… don’t want to run away from our lives because of what Arceus did.” He said, and somehow, it felt like he was confessing to something improper, “But I understand that it wouldn’t come without a cost. People will recognize that I’m not a cisgender man, and that will likely turn into speculation on your part. That’s not a decision I’m comfortable making for the both of us.”

“Some people will be weird about it. There’s a weird person for everything.” Expression twisting in concern, he added, “Some people will be verrry weird about you being pregnant.”

“That would happen regardless of the station.”

“You want consistency. Yup. That’s only natural when so many other things have been forced to change.”

And wasn’t that the truth. He’d had to stop taking nearly every medication across the board, regardless of function or how long he’d been on them. It had been a given that testosterone, his SSRI and ADHD stimulant would be on that list, and their combined absence after becoming accustomed to them was… unpleasant to say the least.

Was it selfish to ask to stay? While he maintained that leaving wasn’t inherently the correct choice, he was beginning to think that it might be, for Emmet’s sake. He was already asking so much of his brother, and to put a request so massive on top of everything else…

“I think you’re correct.” Emmet said, oblivious to this internal debate, “We have a support system here. That is verrrry important. Leaving would not guarantee secrecy. But it would isolate us.”

That was true, but being recognized and word spreading wasn’t the same as presenting the facts and inviting commentary. Anyone passing through the subway system would recognize them and think to ask questions; the same couldn’t be said for the fringes of Almia, for example.

“What do you want?” Ingo eventually asked.

“I am Emmet. What I do. What I say. Always the same.” Emmet remained unmoved under the look it earned him, but Durant hurried away. “I do not want to leave. It’s impractical. It’s uncomfortable. It would not accomplish anything.”

“So… we’re staying.”

“We’re staying.”

And that was the end of that.