Tumgik
#LOL sorry u guys can figure out who the father is bc the poll was split right down the middle
heich0e · 4 months
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"you know that's not how it works, right?"
atsumu and osamu's heads both snap up from where they're stooping over a paper schematic laid out before them, sitting cross-legged amidst a debris field of cardboard, styrofoam, and various wooden parts.
the sun streams in through the open window on the other side of the room, and little motes of dust that have been stirred up through the afternoon's excitement are caught in the light as they twist and spin through the air, fluttering slowly towards the ground. the breeze that slips in through the window is cool but refreshing, the smell of spring carried in on the edge of every wisp of air. you take a deep breath to savour it.
"whaddya mean?" atsumu asks, his brows—so much darker than the peroxide blonde of his hair, and the contrast even more stark since he's seated right in the sunlight that makes his hair practically glow—pinching together in the centre and expressing his confusion. osamu doesn't say anything, but his own expression is equally perplexed as he sits beside his noisy brother.
you laugh, taking a sip from your glass of water as you lean against the doorway.
"i said that's not how it works."
osamu's grey eyes flicker back down to the instruction manual in front of him, his lips pursing thoughtfully as he mulls over your comment.
you sigh, a little smile tugging at your lips. "samu, i'm not talking about the crib."
both brothers look up at you once more, now thoroughly confused by your interruption and wearing nearly identical expressions which convey that sentiment. you set your cup of cool water down on the chest of drawers just inside the doorway: an old wooden hand-me-down from their mother, who insisted you take it for the nursery and give it a second life in a new miya household. you pad into the room, approaching them both slowly as you carefully avoid the various pieces of disassembled crib that litter the floor, and crouch down to sit between them.
atsumu sees the way you struggle on your descent, still not quite used to the bump that has swollen at your waist and grows with every passing day, and he quickly reaches up to help you settle in between the two of them. you murmur quiet thanks, squeezing the blonde's hand with your own before you pull away.
once you've finally made yourself comfortable on the nursery floor, you huff. "what i meant was that's not how twins work."
you'd caught the tail end of the brothers' conversation as you passed by the doorway to the nursery—a casual but enthusiastic debate on whether or not you should be expecting one baby or two.
"yer gonna explain twins to us?" tsumu guffaws in the wake of your words, looking to his brother for solidarity in his indignation. samu's eyes instead flicker down to the bump of your stomach where your hand is resting.
"we're kinda the experts in the room y'know," osamu teases you, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. you roll your eyes.
"experts?" you parrot back incredulously. "says the guy who barely passed biology, and the one who's forgotten everything about high school other than volleyball scores and school lunch menus."
you point to atsumu and osamu respectively as you make your remarks.
"hey!" atsumu whines.
"i remember other stuff too," samu laughs a bit as he reaches up and ruffles the dark hair at the nape of his neck. you cock a brow as you lean in towards him.
"oh, yeah?" you challenge his assertion. "like what?"
"cute girls," osamu says as he turns his attention back to the assembly instructions on the floor before him, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips. you resist the urge to swat at the back of his head.
behind you, since you've turned your body to face his brother, atsumu pitches forward and hooks his chin over your shoulder.
"so, what was that about anyway? the twin thing?" he asks, muttering in a way that tells you he's got a pout on his lips even if you can't see it.
you lean back into atsumu slightly, watching as osamu picks up a piece of crib and turns it over in his hands to survey it, comparing it to the complicated illustration in the instruction manual.
"even though you two look so much alike, you're fraternal," you say, tilting your head to peek up at him through your lashes. "and your mom's mom was a fraternal twin too."
atsumu hums. you've not told him anything he doesn't already know. "s'genetic!"
"it is," you agree, running a hand over your stomach absentmindedly. "but the gene that makes you more likely to have twins has to do with ovulation. which means it has to affect the mother—and i have no twins in my family."
atsumu sucks in a sharp little breath that you can't help but think sounds a bit disappointed. osamu pauses in his instruction surveillance.
"besides," you remark, peeling yourself up from against atsumu's chest, "we already heard the baby's heartbeat, and there was definitely only one in there."
osamu looks over at you, pointing the mystery piece of crib in your direction. "our ma said the same thing, and still ended up with the two of us. careful whatcha say."
"she says i hid my heartbeat 'til the second trimester!" atsumu agrees with his brother, supporting his argument in a distinctly proud way—a wide grin stretching across his face.
"troublesome from the very beginning, huh?" you tease him, and he reaches up to pinch your cheek playfully in response.
"what about identical twins then?" osamu asks. "they genetic too?"
"no," you shake your head, atsumu's fingers still lightly holding the fat of your cheek and making your words come out a little funny. "they'a fweeks o'naytchor."
atsumu laughs, letting his grip on your face go. "freaks of nature?"
you rub at your stinging cheek with your fingers, glaring at him resentfully. "there's no real reason why identical twins happen. they shouldn't happen, by all accounts. but for one reason or another the fertilized egg decides it's going to split and basically clone itself even though it's not supposed to. that's weird."
"so, who has identical twins?" osamu asks, reaching up and running his thumb over the red mark his brother left on your poor cheek.
you purse your lips as you consider his question. "well... anyone could, i guess. in theory. there's no real rhyme or reason to it."
atsumu and osamu's eyes lock over your shoulder, and you can't help but noticed the look they share between them. the one that makes you want to groan aloud.
the one that clearly reads of hope.
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