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Okoye wasn’t speaking to him.
She glared plenty. Muttered under her breath frequently. Crossed arms and narrowed eyes met his every move. She even hissed at him when he reached out to hold her after she finished vomiting up her midday snack.
Not a single word had passed her lips. Not ones meant for him anyway. Even now, she was singing to her angry land whale.
It had been hours.
From the moment the ah-men told them his beloved carried more than one life within her, Okoye had ceased speaking to him. As they rode the transport home, she looked at him as though she was contemplating throwing him off it. Once they’d entered the house, any attempts at conversation were met with hostility.
He tried asking about dinner and was met with a fierce glare and mumbles about “shark-fin soup and sashimi.”
He tried again an hour later as she cut up mangoes for a snack, and his beloved plunged the knife so deeply into the cutting board it nearly split.
When she’d run to throw up those same mangoes a half hour later, Attuma attempted to come into the bathroom with her to provide comfort and sing a soothing melody as he had that morning. Instead, Okoye closed the door in his face, turned the lock, and muttered about “fucking Talokanil breeders.”
Now, Attuma watched as the Sun dipped low in the sky, and his K’iino’ stood outside feeding M20. He ducked down through her kitchen door, exiting the house.
“Okoye, K’iino’, do you know what you’d like for dinner?” He asked, hoping she had calmed from her earlier temper. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck nervously. “We have leftover chicken, or we can go out? Or I can cook? Perhaps some tamales?”
Okoye hadn’t looked up from M20 the entire time. She had a basket of sliced melons and oranges to feed him while she cooed sweetly. “You hear that? Ukrebe wam omnandi ovelisayo osisiphukuphuku [My sweet, stupidly fertile shark] wants to know what we’re having for dinner, sweet boy. He wants to know what he should feed the mother of his three children.”
It was clear she had not calmed from her temper. Attuma pouted at the insult; he hadn’t intended to impregnate her with three children. Still, it happened, and now there was an abundance of stars within his Sun. They should be celebrating.
The rhino snorted, and Okoye hummed and fed him another slice of melon. “No, you heard me correctly. Three. Three babies. All at once.”
“Okoye-“
“Three!” She repeated, talking over him. “What is your umama going to do, M20? Hm, what’s she going to do with three babies?” The rhinoceros didn’t respond but nudged her stomach gently with his massive head. “Mmhm, that’s where they’re growing. All. Three. Of. Them.”
“K’iino’, please. Is it not a blessing to have such abundance? Chaac and Bast have looked upon our union and blessed us with a sea of stars!”
The speed at which she spun on him should’ve been impossible. Attuma was delighted and terrified all at once.
“Don’t you dare try and sweet talk me, Attuma of Talokan!”
She began yelling at him in Wakandan, gesturing wildly, words coming too fast for him or Princess Shuri’s AI to translate entirely. The bits and pieces he did understand caused him to flush violet. Words about his sexual prowess, how he’d distracted her with the size of his member, and how his “stupid Talokanil sperm” had broken her birth control made him feel a sense of pride that he fought to keep off his face, lest he further provoke her wrath.
“You are lucky that I don’t feed you to Tobeka,” she finished her rant with a huff. Attuma purpled further at the mention of the hippopotamus that tried to eat him each time he entered the river. Surely, his beloved wouldn’t–
Okoye kissed her teeth and glared at him. “Unethamsanqa andikwazi kulala ngaphandle kwakho ngoku [You're even luckier I can’t sleep without you now].”
Attuma took a few cautious steps toward her and opened his arms. She rolled her eyes but stepped into his embrace anyway, and his heart soared. “Sleep eludes me when I’m without you, too, in yakunaj.”
His beloved hummed, nuzzling into his chest. Attuma rubbed her back and bent to place a kiss on her head.
“You wouldn’t really feed me to the hippo, would you?” he murmured into her braided hair.
“Mm, no,” she said, leaning back to look into his eyes. She pouted her lips up for a kiss, which he was more than happy to grant. Their lips parted, and Okoye smiled. “But I did consider commanding M20 to impale you.”
Attuma’s eyes widened, and the color drained from his face as the massive rhinoceros snorted and stomped on the ground.
“Ko'olelo'!”
His beloved laughed and danced out of his reach, grabbing the now-empty basket of fruit and making her way back into the house. He followed after her, ducking back into the house and snatching her about the waist as she cackled.
“Ah! Attuma, put me down!” she shrieked between laughs as he spun them deftly around the kitchen and into the living room.
Attuma carried his laughing love over to the sofa where he’d first heard his children and collapsed onto it, settling Okoye on his lap. She reclined in his arms, her laughter fading as he kissed her neck.
“You will be a wonderful mother, in K’iino’. To all of our children, however many that may be,” Attuma said softly, rubbing a large hand over her still-flat stomach.
“All of them, eh? Just how many do you think we’ll be having, sithandwa?” Okoye asked, craning her neck to look at him.
“How many do you wish for?” he answered with his own question.
His beloved snorted. “I think I got more than I wished for this time.”
Attuma chuckled and grabbed her hand, folding his right fist on top of hers. “My mother told me this is how she and my father decided how many children they would have.” He raised their joined hands. “You will lift one finger for every child you wish to have, and so will I. The last number we agree on will be the last we plan for.”
Okoye hummed and pressed a kiss to his jaw, then looked at their hands. “Well, we’re already having three,” she said, raising their first, second, and third fingers. She sighed, “I think… if the gods say the same, I’d like one more,” and their fourth fingers were raised. Attuma stared down at her in admiration.
He didn’t think they would get past three.
“Any thoughts on how many pups you’d like to have, Indoda Kakrebe [Shark Man]?”
Attuma huffed and jostled her a bit, making his beloved giggle. “If you, and the gods, are amenable… I’d like one more ‘pup’,” he said, uncurling his thumb.
“Mm. Five, eh?”
Attuma watched as she seemed to curl her thumb further inward and scolded himself for the fleeting feeling of disappointment that filled him.
“You should know that I’m not getting up to help you after the fourth,” Okoye muttered, unfurling her thumb.
Attuma smiled wide and slotted their fingers together. He hugged her tighter, kissing the top of her head.
“In yaakunaj ta wo'olal mina'an u ts'o'okol [My love for you has no end].” Attuma whispered into her hair.
A loud bark of laughter left her, and she pinched the arm resting across her waist. “It better not! I’m carrying three of your children! I’m going to be as large as Tabai by the end of this.”
He chuckled at the mention of his beloved orca and brought their entwined hands back to her belly. “I cannot wait to see how you ripen and swell. Your beauty will only be magnified.”
“The only thing you’re excited to see swell are my breasts,” she teased.
Attuma purpled but could not deny it. It was true. Even now, her chest was a tempting sight in the low-cut tank top she wore. He wondered how they would look as she bounced-
A flick to his nose brought his attention back to the present, and he could see the bemused smirk on Okoye’s face.
“You were leering, wena krebe ungenantloni [you shameless shark],” she said by way of explanation.
He disentangled his fingers from hers and trailed a hand up her torso, palming her left breast lightly. “And why should I feel shame for staring at what is mine?” Attuma asked while nibbling on her ear.
“Yours, hm?” Okoye’s voice had taken on that breathless hitch, cluing him into her arousal.
He squeezed. Just enough to draw a moan from her. “Always.”
Okoye wiggled against him, arching up into his hold. “We- ah!” she gasped as his hand made its way into her underwear, his fingers parting her folds.
He spread his legs, forcing hers apart, splaying her on his lap. Dipping his longest finger into her core, he drew out the wetness pooled there and dragged it up to circle her ak’. His beloved gasped, and her hips bucked into his hand.
“Attuma, we don’t have time.” Okoye let out a breathy moan as her hand gripped his wrist, trying to halt his movements.
He smirked and quickened his pace, pressing down harder on the sensitive bud. “Do you have somewhere else to be, K’iino’?” he mocked, sucking a mark onto her neck.
“Dinner-” she panted, trying to insist as her head fell back on his shoulder.
“-can wait. I’ll be quick,” Attuma promised, pushing his fingers inside her.
“You could’ve told me dinner was with your mother,” Attuma whispered, unable to meet Kioni’s disapproving gaze.
They were standing in the older woman’s subterranean kitchen, her dark eyes burning daggers into the side of Attuma’s head.
“I tried!” Okoye hissed back.
“I can hear the both of you,” Kioni whispered loudly, interrupting their bickering. “And while I’m happy that my daughter is in a healthy, loving relationship, I do not need the details of it aired out in my kitchen.”
Okoye ducked her head down, and Attuma purpled. “Yes, Umama.”
“Set the table, please,” she said, nodding towards the dining room, “I’ll be out with the stew in a minute.”
They settled around the table to eat, with easy conversation flowing between them. Attuma was sure that Okoye would fight the entirety of Talokan herself if anyone tried to get between her and her mother’s stew. He also enjoyed the surface woman’s food. More than his own mother’s, though he would never admit it aloud. It helped that Kioni always packed a week's worth of food for them to take home after dinner.
Okoye finished her second bowl of stew and reached for the ladle again. Kioni’s eyebrows nearly shot to her hairline.
“Oh! Did you forget to eat today, intombi?”
“No, Mama. Just hungrier than usual,” Okoye replied, attempting to sound casual. Attuma knew differently.
They hadn’t told Kioni about her grandchild (children, his mind corrected) yet, and Okoye was nervous. The older woman narrowed her eyes as his beloved devoured her third bowl of stew with the same fervor as the first two. She hummed but said nothing.
“So,” Kioni said, sitting back once they’d all finished eating, “are you two planning to get married before the baby arrives?”
Attuma froze momentarily but startled back into action as Okoye began choking on the sip of water she’d taken. He moved quickly, crouching by her chair, patting her back as she coughed violently.
“‘M fine, I’m fine,” she choked out as the coughs subsided. She wiped the tears from her watery eyes and waved him away. Attuma didn’t move from his position. Okoye took another slow sip of water, and he waited until she swallowed before answering Kioni’s question.
“We will be married when in K’iino’ is ready to have a husband again. No sooner. Our marriage bonds, or lack of them, will not change the fact that they will be our children.”
This time, it was Okoye’s mother who choked. “Children?!”
Okoye’s head had snapped to him when he’d spoken, and her eyes were locked on his face. He didn’t know if she registered her mother’s shock in the background. Attuma looked up at her and smiled gently.
“Tia'alo' yéetel le mía [Yours and mine],” he whispered, repeating the same assurance he had told her when he’d first heard his paalalo'ob.
“Eyakho neyam,” she repeated, running her fingers through his hair and kissing him sweetly.
Kioni cleared her throat, and they returned their attention to her. “Children?” She repeated. “Has the Blessing of Taweret rested upon our family again?”
Attuma’s eyes darted to his beloved quizzically, but she looked just as confused.
“The Blessing of Taweret?” Okoye asked.
“You said you are having two children, yes? That is the Blessing of the Fertile Mother. It has run in our family for generations. Surely, you remember that your malume olusiz [wretched uncle] and I shared a womb?”
Okoye said nothing, looking stunned. “I- I cannot say I’ve ever thought about it, umama. You said this runs in our family?”
Kioni nodded with a proud smile. “For thirteen generations, aside from myself and a few others. At least one set of twins. Your umakhulu was so very sad that your baba and I were not blessed. But I was grateful. Your father and I were War Dogs, and neither of us wanted to raise children outside of Wakanda. Having you was blessing enough for us.”
Attuma hummed and glanced at Okoye, watching her take the information in. It seemed he wasn’t wholly responsible for this predicament after all.
“We have been blessed by Taweret and Ix’Chel,” he said proudly. “Okoye is having three children.”
Kioni’s eyes widened while Okoye’s narrowed. “I can still feed you to Tobeka.”