Chapter Text
Mu Qing stared down into the two incubators stationed side-by-side. The newborns were hooked up to a bunch of wires, too many for Mu Qing’s eyes to make out as his vision blurred with unshed tears. They had matching medical tape over their little belly buttons, and white diapers that appeared two sizes too big for their preemie bodies. Mu Qing pressed one palm to each of the plastic domes; he could reach through the little slots in the side to actually touch them, but they looked so small — so fragile — and he didn’t trust himself. Not yet.
The sliding door to the private suite opened behind him, but Mu Qing could not tear his eyes away from the bundles of joy in front of him.
“Mu Qing, what the hell?” Feng Xin asked, sliding the door shut behind him. “What are you doing up? You need to be fucking resting.”
“I wanted to see them,” Mu Qing argued.
Feng Xin sat something down on the rolling tray as he passed it before his strong arms found Mu Qing’s shoulders. Now that he was here, providing his strength, Mu Qing realized his legs were shaking from the effort to remain standing. His entire abdomen felt like it was going to fall out of his ass at any moment, and the hospital band around his left wrist itched — but not as bad as the stick site for the IV that one bitchy nurse had placed badly when he first showed up in the throes of labor.
“Okay, Qing’er, you saw them. Time to sit back down,” Feng Xin said gently.
Mu Qing reluctantly dropped his palms from the incubators, but he resisted when Feng Xin tried to steer him back to the bed. “I want to stay here.”
Feng Xin sighed, but he nodded. “Fuck, okay. Uh…”
He let go of Mu Qing and dragged over a chair. Mu Qing glanced back at it before sinking down into the cushioned surface slowly. He grimaced at the feeling shooting up through his spine, but it passed quickly enough, allowing him to lounge back. From this angle, he couldn’t see the twins’ perfect little button noses or their ten fingers and toes, but he could watch the rise and fall of their tiny chests. That helped.
“Your mother made Shenghua Soup.” Feng Xin dragged the food tray closer. “She wants me to come get more tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.”
Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Joy. I’m going to bleed ginger before the week’s end.”
“She means well, and you fucking know it.”
Feng Xin pulled the disposable soup container free from the plastic bag and opened it up. The familiar smell of boiled herbs and spices tickled Mu Qing’s nose, and he finally tore his eyes away from the twins to watch Feng Xin set out his meal. Mu Qing suddenly felt inexplicably hungry. He knew the soup would do nothing to really cure that hunger, but the warmth of the love within would help. He reached for the soup and breathed in the aroma and steam, allowing it to wash over him (just like one of his mother’s hugs), before he took an experimental sip.
Feng Xin grinned. “Good?”
“My Ma made it, of course it’s good,” Mu Qing grumbled.
That only made Feng Xin grin wider. He looked past Mu Qing over at the twins in their incubators, sighing almost wistfully. “Fuck, they are cute, aren’t they?”
Mu Qing scowled. “They’re too small. Underweight. Their lungs aren’t fully developed. Fu Yao aspirated amniotic fluid. And—!”
“And they’re going to be fucking fine,” Feng Xin cut him off. He stepped closer to the incubators, placing a palm on the plastic as he peered inside. “Fu Yao seems fine.”
Mu Qing’s eyes flashed. “Fu Yao is the other one!”
Feng Xin blinked. “Oh, fuck! They look so similar. How can you tell?”
“They’re labeled, you buffoon!” Mu Qing snapped.
He had to actively resist the urge to throw the soup in his hands at his husband (mostly out of fear of wasting the precious liquid gold). It was a very near thing. Feng Xin took a step back, looking at the plastic placards holding the printed name cards hanging off of each incubator.
“Oh. Huh. That’s fucking useful.” Feng Xin paused. “Wait, how the Hell are we supposed to tell them apart when we take them home?”