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Haruka wasn't certain—had never really cared to look into it—but he was almost positive that one of the perks of turning a year older involved at least getting to sleep in on that very special day.
"Happy birthday, Daddy!" "Happy birthday, Haru!"
But then, perhaps those rules lost weight inside the Shatterdomes scattered about the pacific rim, which left Nanase Haruka doubled over in bed with nearly a hundred kilos of kaiju-crossbreed flopped over his stomach, pressing down on his full bladder and empty stomach and peering with four wide eyes into his own, faces so close as to be almost blurred beyond recognition. Not that Haruka needed his eyes even open to know who'd just roused him earlier than he'd intended to wake on this his first day off in nearly two weeks. "...Who told you it was my birthday?"
Rin snorted, rolling off of his stomach to settle propped up on an elbow beside him and shooing the toddler still straddling Haruka off to the other side to let him breathe. "Uh, your public record? And Tachibana? And even the Marshal let it slip when he 'dropped by' the lab Tuesday to harass Amakata-sensei while I was getting some bloodwork done? You know, just half the Shatterdome. Everyone except you, pretty much.” He twisted around awkwardly, reaching behind him to draw forward a tray that looked like it'd been pilfered from the mess hall.
A tiny hand came up to grip his shoulder, shaking insistently, "It's breakfast in bed! I helped make it!"
"Did you, now?" he humored.
"She did," Rin affirmed, lifting the tray high enough so that Haruka could push himself up into a sitting position without upsetting it, and then added with a wry grin, "Be glad she inherited your cooking skills and not mine."
"You didn't have any to inherit," he reminded, and before Rin could shoot back a retort or threaten to take back the tray altogether, Haruka relieved him of it and took in the modest but hearty spread—thin-sliced mackerel fillets grilled crisp, just the way Haruka liked them, with a piping hot cup of miso soup, warm rice with furikake sprinkled on top, and a small dish of tsukemono. Simple, with little fanfare—but truly exactly the breakfast Haruka had wanted. In fact, it suited his palate so well, he cast a wary glance at the toddler hovering over his shoulder, looking very much like she wanted to dive into the meal herself (and leaving Haruka wondering how much had been prepared originally before the two had pared it down to what they'd eventually serve Haruka). "How'd you know my favorite dishes?"
She pursed her lips innocently, brows lifting as she regarded Rin, as if seeking permission. "Papa told me!"
"I'm sure he did," he allowed blandly, then turned a knowing gaze on Rin, who didn't seem bothered at all by the situation, shrugging in a what can you do? gesture.
"Not my fault you let your guard down around her; she's only doing what comes natural, so if you don't want her picking up every little thought that flits through your mind, maybe put in a couple extra hours a week of those exercises I showed you instead of locking yourself in the Kwoon?"
Haruka frowned sourly—a lecture on the importance of filtering his mental depositions was not something he wanted to endure on his birthday, regardless of how little value he placed on the day, and it must have shown on his features, for Rin just chuckled brightly. "Though I've gotta admit, the kid was pretty handy to have around when I was trying to think of what to get you for a present. This way, I didn't have to go bug Tachibana." He winked over Haruka's chest at the child, raising his hand for a congratulatory high-five, which he received backed by a wave of giggles.
No, Haruka supposed—there would have been no need to ask Makoto for suggestions on what sort of present Haruka might like for his birthday when all Rin had to do was prod their daughter (shit, that still sounded strange) to piece together any errant thoughts Haruka had inadvertently been feeding her over the past few weeks to try and figure out what he was most in need of these days. Which, Haruka reasoned, went against the spirit of presents—it didn't count if the recipient practically told you what they wanted—but Rin had never been one for an entirely clean fight, so all he could manage was like father, like daughter.
How they'd wound up with a daughter in the first place, though, was a tale in and of itself. According to all of the official paperwork, she wasn't technically their daughter—just Rin's. Estranged mother, messy divorce, blah blah blah, a bunch of trumped up history that was just confusing enough to be boring to anyone who asked, which had been the intention all along. After all, that Rin had been saddled with a daughter he'd had to leave behind when he joined the PPDC after his ex-wife fled the country was far more believable a story than "the biological offspring of a human and kaiju grown in a test tube six months prior."
She'd been an accident—something many parents likely claimed, but a fact which applied particularly aptly to Haruka and Rin's situation. In large part because, being male, they'd assumed with some confidence that children would never be something they'd find themselves dealing with—or guarding against. But persistent pain in Rin's abdomen months ago had, on eventual examination, proven to be a rapidly swelling cyst—which ultrasound had further revealed to be, to shock all around, a maturing fetus. After an initial wave of dark humor had passed, Amakata-sensei had actually buckled down to determine first how to extract the fetus to avoid damaging it or Rin, and then how it had come to exist in the first place. To the best of the K-science labs' knowledge, somewhere in Rin's as-yet-still-uncoded genes lurked a bit of kaiju DNA that governed parthenogenesis commands—a mechanism that had been kickstarted on contact with foreign DNA with little regard to the appropriateness of maturation location or the make-up of the host 'mother'. "It's not a pregnancy, when you get right down to it,” Amakata-sensei had tried to explain. "Merely...well, everything you might associate with a pregnancy, just without regard to gender of the host. Presumably any compatible DNA would have done the trick, regardless of the gender of the donor or recipient."
Thankfully, no one had asked where or how Rin had come into contact with any foreign DNA—but then, after amniocentesis had revealed the other parent to be Haruka, no one had really needed to.
She'd been something of a science experiment at first—no one had really expected the fetus to survive outside of a proper womb, and certainly not in the sterile incubator tube she'd been deposited into. But against all odds, she had, as scrappy in her will to live as Rin, and after a staggeringly short gestation period that Rin had reasoned was simply part of the accelerated maturation process coded into all kaiju DNA, there they had been with a wailing newborn and a foot-high stack of books on parenting to leaf through.
Amakata-sensei had been a godsend, helping forge birth certificates to ensure that none of the PPDC staff questioned the sudden requisition of a crib for Rin's room. Matsuoka Gou, the paperwork said, and when Haruka had expressed curiosity about the choice in name, Rin had just smile softly, a far-away look in his eyes, and shrugged, "Dunno. Just felt right." If there had been more to his reasoning, Rin didn't share, and Haruka didn't prod; boy's name that it was, it still seemed to fit, and that was what mattered most.
Within weeks, it was strikingly clear that theirs was never going to be a normal child, as Gou packed on weight and sprouted upward in height at rates far beyond those expected of a normal child, until now, a mere six months later, Amakata-sensei had merrily pegged her development at the level of a three-year-old. "I suspect we'll see her growth continuing exponentially until a certain point—sexual maturity perhaps—before plateauing and aging at a normal rate, much like Matsuoka here and the other kaiju we’ve observed.”
It hadn't taken long, though, before they realized that an accelerated growth rate wasn't the only thing she'd inherited from Rin, for she quickly slipped from merely 'precocious' to downright 'precognitive', demonstrating otherworldly understanding of her parents that put Haruka's empathic tendencies to shame. When her childish babbling had started to coalesce into cogent sentences, the extent of the discrepancy in their abilities became all the clearer: Haruka could tell when Rin was feeling irritated; she could pinpoint the source. It eventually came to a point where they couldn't chalk it up to their imaginations anymore, and neural scans carried out by a giddy Makoto had revealed what they'd suspected: Gou was functioning as the core of their own private little hive mind, taking in everything her parents chose to 'feed' her and processing it, mind maturing as quickly as her physical body with the constant influx of decades of life experience from Haruka and Rin. It probably shouldn't have surprised anyone—the kaiju were coded by design to be able to merge mentally with their brethren—but Haruka still struggled daily with the uncanny ease with which Gou understood him. Rin naturally found it comforting, a restored bond he would never have admitted to missing, and Haruka supposed that if giving up a bit of privacy was all it took to see Rin finally finding a balance in his acceptance of humanity (and all of the complex emotional baggage it came with) and having that innate connection with another living being, able to ensure that Gou soaked in humanity from birth...then it was a sacrifice he could live with.
"She can't pick your brain, you know—you just have to work on filtering what you give her if you want your secrets," Rin reminded, interpreting the silence Haruka had adopted as continued irritation over Gou's well-intentioned prying. "Besides, if you're so put-off by it, you can always pull the reverse for me on my birthday?"
Haruka picked at the mackerel with the chopsticks Gou pressed into his palm, urging Eat, eat! "Do you even have a birthday?" An awkward, stiff silence followed, and Haruka found himself immediately contrite as he weighed his retort. "I...sorry, I didn't—"
But Rin just huffed a rough chuckle, rolling his eyes and stealing a mouthful of tsukemono with a wink at Gou. "They had to put something on my enrollment certificate, right?" It was a classic maneuver of Rin's to escape an uncomfortable situation, brushing off any concern that the remark might have drawn blood with a smile and witty retort. Snapping a hand out before Rin could steal another mouthful, he wrapped long fingers around Rin's wrist, conscious of the strong pull of muscle and tendon beneath, and brushed light as a fiddler's bow over the Thread, grateful to have such a method of expressing contrition when his tongue refused to work properly to the same end. Rin's smile went a little softer, more genuine, and he reminded, "Your breakfast's gonna get cold." He then jerked his chin in Gou's direction. "Aren't you supposed to bring something in right about now?"
She released a soft Ah! of realization before scrambling off of the mattress and padding into the entryway, returning only a moment later, ponytail bouncing merrily, with a box wrapped in plain tissue paper—probably the best one could come by for wrapping a gift in the Shatterdome. "Happy birthday!" she repeated her well-wishes, gently setting the box at Haruka's side while he finished his meal.
Taking care not to rip too eagerly into the package—much to Gou's visible disappointment, as she'd probably been hoping he'd be far too excited to practice any restraint—he tossed the boxtop to the side of the bed and pulled out the fabric folded neatly inside, displaying it for all to see: a handsome black dogi with a purple obi, and a glinting emblem emblazoned over the heart—a stylized sakura blossom set under the arch of an omega. He fingered the gold stitching, a fond smile straining to quirk at his lips; Rangers were notorious for slapping their insignia on anything they could get their hands on, as if driven to mark their territory. "...We aren't Rangers anymore," he reminded quietly, but Rin just reached over him to tug teasingly at Gou's ponytail, grinning at the squawk of protest and "Papa!" she released in response.
"Aren't we?" He locked eyes with Haruka, and they held their gaze for a long moment—true, they hadn't set foot inside a Conn Pod in nearly eight months now, would likely never Drift with the aid of a LOCCENT team again. But...the drive was still there, the urge to do what they could, to be prepared: just in case. And maybe it was enough to just think they were retired. Rin plucked at the Thread, the vibrations resonating almost mournfully to Haruka's core—he missed it, clearly, had felt some sense of purpose when he was piloting. Likely because that's what he'd been made for: to Drift, to pilot, to ingratiate himself with Rangers and their ilk, and while he still had duties now...he would not see the inside of a Jaeger again. Not until the war was over, at least, and even then...
He was reminded anew of all that Rin had given up for him, and while parts of him argued that Rin had had no choice, that he was happy with how things had worked out...it only left Haruka feeling grateful. That he'd been forced into this gambit...and didn't resent Haruka for it. They were still partners, in Rin's eyes, and just because they weren't piloting a great war machine didn't mean they weren't still in this together, weren't there to support each other, even if understanding didn't come easily, and—
An excited breathy shriek interrupted his thoughts, and Gou drew her knees to her chest, bouncing in place on the mattress with red cheeks as she announced to Rin, "Daddy wants to kiss you!"
"Oi—" Haruka protested sharply, nearly upsetting the tray still sitting on his lap, but the damage had been done.
"Is that so?" Rin drawled, leaning forward so that his arms straddled Haruka's chest, and Haruka instinctively leaned back, pressing himself into the pillow braced between his spine and the headboard. "Well it's his birthday, kiddo. Don't you think he ought to get whatever he wants...?"
Gou's ponytail bounced wildly as she nodded, draping herself over Haruka's shoulder in a clingy way that spoke vividly of Rin—it was moments like these that he was reminded anew that this child was every bit their offspring, though Haruka often struggled to find the bits of himself that Rin swore he saw in her. He warily regarded Rin, who was leaning in closer while directing a flicked glance over his shoulder at Gou—and it was too late that he realized their intention as they both pressed forward quickly to lay messy kisses on opposite cheeks, pulling back with loud smacks that gave way to whoops of victory.
Haruka wiped at his cheeks, flushed with embarrassment at the display. "A coordinated attack? That's low, even for you."
Rin grinned widely, utterly unrepentant. "The only way to beat the hive mind is to join it, my good Fightmaster. If you'd stop worrying about unintentionally giving her a glimpse into our love life—"
"Rin!" he hissed, less worried about Gou picking up on the meaning of 'love life' and more about the images that word brought to mind which stood very real risk of slipping into the collective for Gou to sift through.
"—then you'd realize how much fun it can be." He laid a hand to Haruka's shoulder and squeezed. "You hate having to say things out loud—this should be a dream come true for you."
And here, Gou crawled around to flop over his chest, gazing up with wide, wary eyes—the color of his own, and deep and dark as the Limbo pool. She was smarter than she let on—partly due to her amped up biology and partly due to the constant influx of emotion and experience from her parents. Rin was right—he needed to stop fearing this, to cope with it, because this wary distrust was going to start leaking into Gou this way, if it hadn't already, and how was any of this her fault?
Amakata had made overtures recently about hiring a tutor soon to start Gou's schooling; they couldn't let her enroll in the classes other Shatterdome children shared—officers often moved their entire families into the barracks—because daily exposure would make her rapid maturity all the more obvious. But a rotation of tutors changing out every few months could work, she'd suggested, and perhaps it was time to start considering...what kind of life Gou would lead. She was only a child now, in every sense of the word, but with a half-century of human experience to draw on at will and genetics that would see her nearly of an age with her parents in perhaps only a few years, they couldn't afford to treat her like any other child.
He pressed his lips into a line, offering an apologetic smile and carding his fingers through the strands of hair that had wriggled free of her ponytail. "It is. And I'm grateful."
This seemed to satisfy Rin, who shook his shoulder before releasing him and directing his words now at Gou. "All right; he's gotten his breakfast and his present—run and get ready so we can head out."
"Awww~" she protested dramatically, wrapping her skinny arms around Haruka's torso as if daring Rin to try and prise her free. "He hasn't finished yet, though!"
Rin swiped away the tray and pointed toward the entryway. "I'll help him finish—you go get changed or we're leaving you behind." When this didn't cause her to leap off the mattress immediately, he added threateningly, “Go on! Or I'll throw you into the Breach!"
This had her on her toes and skittering away leaving a wake of merry shrieks behind her—amusing in a darkly humorous way, largely because Haruka knew that Rin had kept his knowledge of the Anteverse purposefully filtered away from whatever he offered into the collective, so as not to scare her unnecessarily. To Gou, the Breach and kaiju and Anteverse were little more than spooky stories meant to thrill, the Jaegers and Rangers exciting heroes of modern legend; Haruka hoped that by the time she learned the truth...she'd have matured enough to be able to take it all in stride and wouldn't resent them for keeping it from her. Children deserved time to be children, even in the midst of a war, and time was steadily ticking down before the Precursors returned with a vengeance.
Rin settled back against the headboard with a huff, bumping shoulders with Haruka and letting his head list to the side until it brushed Haruka's. "...So how old are you again now?"
"Older than you."
A snort. "Well that's a given. I'm probably young enough to be your kid myself!"
And here it struck Haruka again how insensitive the comment about Rin's birthdate earlier had been. He tried to change the subject, clearing his throat. "...So where are we going?"
"Mmm," Rin hummed giddily, pleased with himself. "I figure since our kid's reached the ripe old age of six months, it's about time she learned to swim."
Haruka sat up straight, twisting around as hope bloomed in his chest. "You...they're giving us leave? No escort?"
"None that we can see, at least." It was the best they could hope for. "It's been months since we had time to really get in the water, and I figured she's never been off-base or probably even seen a beach, so—" Haruka slipped forward, covering the still babbling lips with his own and impressing with everything that he was how much he was looking forward to the outing, the air practically vibrating with yes. "...Yeah, probably a good thing you didn't act on that urge earlier, now that I think about it."
The good mood was instantly overshadowed by that familiar cloud of worry that he was going to wind up thinking something he really shouldn't and Gou would pick up on it, and he covered his eyes wearily. "...I swear I'll work on it more."
Rin settled against him more comfortably, inhaling deeply. "Don't go to any trouble on my account; I'm happy not to have to run to Tachibana with every little Haru-related question I've got now."
Where Rin couldn't see, Haruka smiled softly and admitted, "...Pretty sure he is, too."
Haruka's arm was growing numb under the weight of Gou fast asleep atop it, but he couldn't bring himself to move, frowning when Rin chuckled softly at the sight. "It's not funny."
"It is from where I'm sitting." Rin reached forward to tug the thin scrap of blanket she clutched in her fist up higher over the two of them. "Cut her some slack; she's exhausted."
"I'm not blaming her; I'm blaming you for telling her she could stay here and finish watching that kids' show when you should have put her to bed. Now we'll wake her up trying to move her."
"Nah," Rin reasoned, settling his head against the back of the small lounger they were all crowded on watching DVDs of some educational children's program Amakata-sensei had loaned them. "She sleeps like the dead once she's out, and she had quite a day today." For all that it had been Haruka's birthday, it was quite clear Gou had enjoyed the experience the most of the three of them, dazzled by the beauty of the ocean and glinting sand on the beach and vocally eager to learn to swim like her parents (albeit lacking in any of the necessary coordination just yet). They'd all come back with red noses and shoulders and a fine salty sheen to their bodies—and an urge to head back out as soon as humanly possible. Haruka hadn't thought it was possible to miss the water that much, but he'd probably never felt more strong affection for Rin than in the moment when he'd held his arms out, offering to watch over Gou while Haruka went for a quick dip. He'd pressed in for a sharp, biting kiss in that moment, giddy with unexpressed delight and heedless of the consequences, and hadn't regretted it.
A few moments passed in silence, the room illuminated only by the soft glow of the television and filled with the comforting sounds of a child sleeping. "...Hey."
"Hm?"
Rin kept his voice necessarily soft, staring ahead into nothingness. "Are your parents still around?"
Haruka blinked, thrown by the question—they hadn't discussed their personal lives much, hadn't had time to really, and it was questions like this that reminded Haruka of how little they still knew about each other. "I...yes. They work abroad, though. I haven't seen much of them since the war started..." His tone reflected no regret or loneliness, though. He didn't really miss them; theirs had never been all that normal a family to begin with, and he truthfully found himself missing his late grandmother more than his parents in the odd moments when he longed for someone blood-related to confide in. A secret smile curled at his lips here; technically, Gou counted as that now, and he’d probably inadvertently confided many things in her thus far.
This thought splintered then to remind him of the possibility that somewhere out there were the parents of the poor unfortunate who'd been spirited away to the Anteverse and harvested for biomaterial to build Rin and his millions of clones. The boy had been a child, and they probably wouldn't recognize Rin even if they happened to glimpse him on television or in the papers or PPDC blog posts, but there still might be someone out there missing him. Loving him still. Wanting him to come home.
"Oi..." Rin started softly, resting his chin on Haruka's shoulder and waiting for him to come back to himself, brows lifting when Haruka met his eyes. “You're my family. I'm not who they'd be waiting for anyway." When Haruka opened his mouth to protest—that wasn't what he'd meant, and it still might mean something to them, to have some closure—Rin interrupted with, “And what could they offer me? Because I’m pretty sure the only thing I could offer them is pain.”
And he wasn’t wrong; nothing Rin could say would do anything more than hurt, because nothing about the situation was right. The knowledge, though, that they’d never know the man their son might have grown into, would never know this Rin…still filled him with a well of pity, which Rin instantly tempered as best he could. Haruka thanked him for the effort by changing the subject: “…Why did you ask about my parents?”
Rin shrugged, sliding back into a content smile. “Thought maybe we should introduce them to Gou.” He lifted his brows in challenge. “All parents want grandkids eventually, right?”
He knew Rin wasn’t being entirely serious, but that conversely meant he wasn’t entirely joking as well, and Haruka gave him a look of confusion. “…And how exactly would we explain how I have a child?”
“Hmm…maybe you adopted her? And I’m your live-in babysitter who watches your darling child while you’re off making poor newbie recruits cry?”
“Why would I have adopted a baby in the middle of a war, on my salary?” Now Rin was just being ridiculous.
Rin snorted softly and sighed, giving in. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Plus, she looks too much like you for them to buy that she’s adopted.”
“She looks nothing like me; she has your coloring.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re not looking in the right places.” He twisted around and placed a finger between his brows. “When she’s pissed or confused, she gets this little furrow right here that looks just like you—yeah yeah, like you’re doing right now.” Haruka rolled his eyes and huffed, glancing away so as not to give Rin the pleasure of being proven right, but was quickly pulled back into the conversation with, “Hey…wanna make another?”
He whipped his head back around, cheeks coloring, and hissed, “You—what?” Rin just grinned in that way that made it difficult to tell if he was being serious or not, so Haruka humored him. “…We can maybe cover up one, pass her off as older than she looks so people don’t think too much when she starts looking the age we tell everyone she is. But you do realize we can’t keep this up forever, right? If Amakata-sensei’s right, in another few years, you’re going to be wandering around the barracks with a daughter who looks at least half your age when you’re supposed to have a toddler.” He flicked a glance down at Gou here, brows stitching in worry over how they were going to keep her from attracting undue attention; it was hardly her fault she’d been born into this climate. “…Another is out of the question.”
After a long moment’s silence, Rin reminded soberly, “…I was just joking. You’re kind of on-edge today—you feeling okay?”
And physically, of course he was—he’d just had his semi-annual check-up with the Shatterdome head physician last month and had been deemed in peak physique—but even settling into the rhythm of life now hadn’t quite settled all of the concerns, leaving them to just keep piling up, stress upon stress, instead of dissipating. Maybe if Gou had been a normal child—if she’d really only been six months right now instead of gearing up for pre-school—he’d have had time to adjust, to start coming into his own as a parent rather than feeling more like just a ‘guardian’.
He reflected here on a conversation he’d had with Makoto the week prior—Drift Therapy sessions were no longer necessary, but he still found some brand of comfort in settling down over a cup of bitter coffee with his friend and letting the man pick his brain and parrot back to him all the things he couldn’t tell others on his own.
He’d asked, strangely enough, how Haruka was taking to being a father—and it hadn’t been the first time (nor the last) that someone had used that word to refer to him: father; yet it still felt foreign. He wasn’t married, he didn’t have a wife and a dog or a little 1LDK, he wasn’t fit to be anyone’s father, physically or mentally. And he’d said as such, confessed that while he didn’t hate it, didn’t even dislike it—which was a big deal for someone who loathed change and all things ‘annoying’—he still didn’t…feel like a father. Or how he supposed fathers ought to feel.
Makoto had reminded him in that way of his that it hadn’t exactly been a normal pregnancy or birth, and that Gou wasn’t a normal child, even if she was genetically his own. A parent meeting their biological offspring years after estrangement couldn’t be expected to immediately be filled with any parental affection, and Haruka had never been allowed the luxury of looking forward to a child, wanting a child. It was only natural, he reassured, and so long as he cared for Gou, loved her in his own way—then that was what mattered.
Haruka had confessed that he often felt jealous of Rin—not for getting to spend more time with Gou, but for the feelings he seemed to share for their child. He wanted to feel that way—to look like that with her, where anyone could see how he behaved around her and know that he was her parent.
Makoto had just smiled secretly, then leaned forward and cocked his head to the side, brows raised as if to say you silly man. "But Haru-chan," he’d started, "You know Matsuoka gets all of his emotional input from you. Anything you think he feels for Gou-chan…it’s because you gave it to him."
And he'd realized in that moment that he really had given Rin something worth giving up everything he'd known for: because Rin seemed so happy now—not the cocky joy of a hard-won victory or the boneless bliss following a spectacular blow job, but genuine happiness, like he'd found everything he might ever need in the world and was content.
Which somehow made Haruka feel...almost left behind. Like he was in a race he didn't remember starting and Rin was leagues ahead, too far to catch more than his wake. He wanted to be there with Rin, feeling the same boundless joy and not feel like Rin was seeing a sight that he couldn't. He wanted—
"Haru...?" A hand shaking his shoulder and a gentle rumble of support over the Thread pulled him back, and he realized his silence in the face of Rin's concern had only roused further worry. "Hey—I'm sorry? I know you don't like to talk about shit, and—that's fine, but..." He rubbed at the back of his neck in awkward discomfort, staring at the DVD menu screen still flickering on the television. "...I'm not Makoto or Gou. I can't read your mind or know exactly what you want to say. So just...keep me in the loop?"
In the loop. Connected. He'd been linked to Rin practically from the moment they'd met; couldn't lock him out if he wanted to.
Gou stirred between them, curling in on herself and burrowing into the space between Haruka's side and the back of the couch before finding a comfortable position again. Her collective wasn't perfect—it wasn't a true hive mind, because he and Rin couldn't withdraw anything from her, only deposit. She was a warm, throbbing little core of life between them now, and as connected as he'd ever felt to Rin before...she made it tangible.
"Anything he feels for Gou-chan...it's because you gave it to him."
He had given Rin a child—and the capacity to care for it. Absurd as the entire situation was, even he had to admit it felt for the best. No longer just how it is, despite having no power over the series of events that had brought them here. He didn't feel like a proper father yet, and that was all right—Rin was bearing the title with enough swagger for the both of them, and as long as they were both in that same loop...even if Haruka faltered, if he slowed or fell behind, eventually Rin would make his way back around and slip an arm under his shoulder to carry him along as well.
Like a Drift, sharing a burden too great for Haruka alone.
"Maybe...after she's grown up," he allowed by way of response, and Rin quirked his brows in bemusement before recalling the thread of the conversation they'd left behind.
He snorted softly, nodding. "So, what—another couple of years then?" The snicker turned into a full fledged chuckle, cheeks pinking in the low light. "At this rate, we'll have enough to form our own little squad of Rangers by the time we're 40." He trailed a finger down Haruka's arm, tugging at a stray thread. "The pitter-patter of little boots racing to hop in a Conn Pod..."
"You'll never get your girlish figure back, now."
"Oi," Rin hissed, pinching the nearest bit of exposed skin he could find and setting Haruka to executing a delicate wriggling dance as he struggled to stave off Rin's attacks without waking the child sleeping in his arms. "No idle commentary necessary."
"Then what sort would be welcome?"
And of a sudden, Rin's face went slack with guilty thought as something battled just underneath his carefully crafted mask—an urge, a longing that went unspoken. Haruka watched him for a long, confused moment, curious as to how his flirtatious comment had struck such a clanging nerve, until—
"...'ve you too, Papa..." Gou murmured, words largely lost in the fabric of the little blanket she curled beneath.
Oh.
Maybe Rin was right; she certainly came in handy at times—Haruka wasn't the only one difficult to read in this relationship. He stroked a finger over Gou's cheek to lull her back to sleep after stirring, then settled against the lounger, staring across the cushions at Rin—who was now resolutely looking everywhere but at Haruka, cheeks dark with shame.
It was absurd for him to be embarrassed after all this time, but then—maybe that was why. Some things the longer you waited to say them...the more difficult they became to bring up. And Haruka hated difficulty—so he rushed out the words in a tumble, far faster than a romantic like Rin probably would have preferred: "...I love you."
Rin just covered his face with his hands and doubled over, groaning, "Not now, dammit. You're not supposed to..."
"You wanted it, though."
"I—didn't—"
"Gou seemed to think you did."
Rin whipped his head up, face a dark scowl and hair askew where he'd run his hands through it. "This isn't where you're supposed to say it."
"Then where would you have me say it?" Rin faltered, obviously not having thought this far ahead, so Haruka pressed him, "You can say it back, if it'll make you feel better."
"What, and ruin my confession, too?"
"You actually have one thought up?" Rin's palms were covering his face again and another whine was working its way out of his throat—which meant yes. "...Were you looking forward to it?"
"Asshole."
"I'm just wondering what you were waiting for, then."
"And that's why you can't understand why I'd be pissed that you wasted your confession."
"Funny," Haruka mused, enjoying the offense Rin was slipping into over a simple turn of phrase. "It didn't feel like I wasted it."
Rin looked like he wanted to sink into the cushions, and Haruka wondered idly where he'd gotten those emotions from; it certainly didn't seem like anything Haruka might have contributed. "...Stop saying shit like that."
"Like what?" He raised his brows. "Like I love you?" It was that giddy rush of accomplishment that he knew came from Rin, shades of his personality bleeding over the Ghost Drift and feeling so natural it was almost frightening.
"You—" But he didn't finish his threat, instead surging forward, careful of disturbing Gou, to slot his mouth over Haruka's in a firm kiss. This close, he could still smell the salty spray clinging to Rin's skin and taste the wind on his chapped lips. "Yeah, like that."
"...All right," Haruka allowed, locking eyes with Rin and feeling a spark of amusement when he was the first to look away; no wonder Rin was always placing himself squarely in Haruka's field of vision, attention could be heady when one wanted it. "I'll stop."
Rin regarded him for a moment before his expression lapsed dubious. "...Liar."
And Haruka wanted to retort it takes one to know one, but it was still his birthday, for another seven minutes, and he hadn't quite called in all of the favors he was sure he was due today, so instead he settled for, "I guess you'll have to keep trying to stop me, then."