Chapter Text
"Okay, but imagine a newborn with my hair. Length and all."
"That would be terrifying, Gyro. Like Bella's baby in Twilight."
"I fucking knew you watched Twilight!"
Today is a day like any other-Johnny and Gyro bickering over something, and Diego sitting back in his chair sipping tea and observing, waiting for his chance to pounce. Johnny and Diego, as two omegas, had formed a sort of pact very early on in which they would take each other's side in anything and everything-neither of them ever tiring of watching the hulking alpha flounder in the face of two tiny omegas.
However, today's bickering was a different topic than usual.
A few days prior, Gyro had noticed a shift in one of their scents denoting that one of them was pregnant. However, due to the mingling of all their scents together, he was unable to discern which of them it was, or even whose it was. The conversation led to a debate about which of them would make the cutest babies, with Gyro resolutely insisting he would make the cutest babies known to mankind and Johnny insisting he'd make babies that are born with gold teeth.
"I'm just saying!" Gyro continues. "I have the best hair of the three of us by far. Any kid I make will at least have the ability to brush their own goddamn hair, you can't deny that."
"I just like it better when I don't have to do it myself!" Johnny protests.
"Which would be fine if you brushed it yourself every once in a while instead of waiting for one of us to sit down and try to tame that absolute rat's nest!"
Diego rolls his eyes. "Ladies, ladies, you're both pretty."
Johnny huffs and crosses his arms. "What about you, huh?"
"Hmm?"
"Who do you think would make the cutest babies?"
"Obviously me. Brando genes are simply superior."
"Oh that is not true at all! Just look at that damned brother of yours!"
Diego's face morphs into a grimace. "Which one?"
"They're both awful."
"Correct answer."
"Your accursed brothers aside..." Gyro starts. "You do have some nice genes. Maybe you would make a decent kid."
"I'd make a fantastic kid. I was god-damned adorable as a child, I'll have you know."
Johnny reluctantly nods his assent. "You know what, he's got a point. He was adorable."
"So was I!" Gyro pouts.
"Gyro, you looked like an aging metal band member as a kid with that awful mullet of yours."
Johnny laughs aloud as Gyro looks at Diego, immensely offended. "Oh shut up! What about your mullet, huh?!"
"It's not a mullet! It's just choppy!"
This time, it's Johnny's turn to watch the two of them argue with each other, laughing along at their remarks about each other's hair.
"We all can't be blessed with angel hair, Gyro!"
"Isn't that a pasta...?" Johnny ponders.
"I mean..."
"It all works out! I get it now! You're Italian, so you've got pasta hair!"
"You are an awful, awful boyfriend."
"Which one of us?"
"Both of you."
Johnny laughs again. "Alright, alright. The arguing is fun and all, but we've all got to admit no matter what combination it is, it'll be lovable all the same."
Gyro nods solemnly, then suddenly goes into dork mode. "Whatever it is, it'll be super cute! I'm going out as soon as I can to buy twenty cameras so I can fill them all up with pictures~ I can't wait to buy all sorts of cute clothes for them! Oh, and toy shopping is going to be so fun! Maybe I'll give them my teddy bear too..."
Johnny and Diego share a look as they watch Gyro fawning over their unborn, fully undeveloped baby. They can't help but smile knowing that no matter what the outcome, the baby will be well-protected, well cared-for, and well-loved.
Of course, their sentimental moment doesn't last long. They never do.
"So, what are we gonna name it? I was thinking Pizza Mozzarella."
"Oh, fuck no."