Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The dining room felt different that night. Not just because of the warm yellow lamp lighting or the soft playlist humming somewhere between jazz and something slower, but because of the white porcelain plate placed right in front of him. 

Gemini stared at it.

A perfectly grilled steak with seared edges and resting juices. Something Fourth was gonna say was ‘too much trouble for a weekday’ meal. 

He looked from the plate to the wine glass that had already poured, then to Fourth across the table. “Okay,” he said, smiling slowly. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

Fourth blinked, reaching for his own glass. “What?”

“This,” Gemini gestured with his fork. “This is too fancy. I thought we were doing noodles tonight.”

“I can cook more than noodles,” Fourth said, a little too fast.

“I know you can. You just don’t cook something fancy like this, unless it’s my birthday. Or I begged.” Gemini leaned back, studying him. “So, what is it? Do you want something?”

Fourth nearly choked on his sip of wine. “Nothing. Why would I want something?”

Gemini laughed. “Because you made my favorite meal, and even opened the good wine. You’re clearly planning on something.”

Fourth’s ears, already red from the start, were now joined by a blush spreading across his cheeks. “Can’t I just do something nice for no reason?”

“Of course you can,” Gemini said gently. But his smug smile hadn't disappeared. 

Fourth looked down at his plate and cut his steak with intense focus. “Eat before it gets cold.”

And Gemini did, it was perfect. The steak was tender, seasoned exactly right. He made an approving sound after the first bite and pointed his fork toward his husband. “If you keep spoiling me like this, I’ll expect it every week.”

“You won’t,” Fourth muttered, but he smiled.

They let the teasing drift away after that. Conversation found its usual rhythm. Small stories from the day. The wine bottle slowly emptied between them. 

Gemini noticed how Fourth kept glancing up like he wanted to say something, then chose not to. The blush never fully left his face, even increasing as his glass of wine decreased. But he decided not to press it.

Dinner ended with satisfied sighs and pushed back chairs.

“I’m gonna clean it,” Gemini said while gathering the plates. 

“We can clean it together.”

Gemini snorted, but let Fourth follow him to the sink anyway.

Warm water ran, soap foamed. A familiar routine that they moved side by side without bumping into each other. Their elbows still brushed now and then, but each time, Fourth would smile like it was a private joke between them.

Gemini caught it by the third time. “You’re very cheerful for someone who claims this wasn’t a plan.”

“I’m always cheerful,” Fourth looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes.

“That is historically false.”

Fourth laughed under his breath and put another clean plate in the rack. His fingers were careful with it, but his attention clearly wasn’t on the dish.

It was always on Gemini, his husband, who was still focused on the dishes. He looked at his face, into his hands, and the rolled sleeves showing his forearms.

“Focus,” Gemini reminded him.

“I am focused.”

“You’re clearly staring.”

“What? Can’t I look at my own husband?”

Gemini rinsed the last fork and set it aside. He turned off the water and shook his hands dry. The kitchen fell into a softer quiet, filled only by the ticking clock and slow music.

Fourth held a plate mid air, the cloth paused against the surface. He looked like he had more to say, as he might actually say it this time. But Gemini didn’t give him the chance. He stepped in, slid his arms behind Fourth’s back, lifted him cleanly off the floor. 

Fourth yelped. “Gem!”

“Our work is done,” Gemini said calmly.

“Put me down. What are you doing?” Fourth grabbed his shoulders, but he was giggling along with it, not resisting at all.

“The night shift is over.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“Now it’s time for dessert.”

“I didn’t even prepare the dessert.”

“You did,” Gemini said, glancing toward the hallway. 

Fourth tried to look annoyed and failed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re the one who started it,” Gemini replied.

Fourth hid his smile against Gemini’s shoulder as they walked toward their room, left behind the light from the dining area.

.☘︎ ݁˖

The night moved softly around them. The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of two breaths slowly finding their calm again. 

Fourth lay half turned on his side, facing Gemini, one leg slightly tangled with his under the blanket. Their bare skin stayed hidden in the warm cocoon of the blanket. One of his arms rested across Gemini’s chest, the other bent between them. His husband’s arm draped securely over his back, holding him closer to his side.

He traced small patterns across the chests beneath him with the tip of his finger. Slow circles and some random lines. He wasn’t really drawing anything. His face was still flushed, his cheeks tinted a soft pink, his eyes half-closed with sleepiness, and a faint smile lingered on his lips. 

Gemini was drifting near sleep, floating in that in-between place where thoughts blurred and time stretched.

Then, suddenly, Fourth asked him in a quiet, careful voice. “Have you ever imagined us having a child?”

The words were so soft they almost dissolved into the night.

Gemini’s eyes opened halfway. The question reached him late. He blinked, unsure if the question had been real or part of a dream.

“Hm?” he murmured. “What?”

Fourth didn’t answer him.

Gemini waited for a second, then another. He looked down and found Fourth’s lashes already resting against his cheeks now. His breathing had evened out, deep and steady. Still smiling a little, but looked fully asleep, as if the question had slipped out by accident. 

Gemini frowned. “Maybe I heard wrong.” 

He adjusted the blanket, pulling it higher over Fourth’s shoulder. The room had grown a little cooler. With both hands now, he pulled Fourth closer until there was no space left between them. 

Fourth shifted his body closer, resting his forehead under his chin. Responding to the hold even in his sleep.

“Good night.” Gemini pressed a soft kiss into his hair.

The next days passed like any other. Nothing was unusual. Gemini seemed to have completely forgotten about the question, and Fourth never brought it up again.

That evening, they sat together on the couch, watching television. The news channel filled the room. Gemini leaned back in the corner of the sofa while Fourth sat tucked close at his side, shoulder resting against the other. 

Gemini’s arm circled his waist out of habit, his thumb moving in small absent strokes through the fabric of his shirt. 

Fourth was focused on his phone, scrolling absentmindedly, occasionally tapping to zoom.

“Another corruption case again?” Gemini muttered at the TV.

Fourth made a soft sound that could have meant agreement or nothing at all.

Then, without warning, he lifted his phone up into Gemini’s line of sight. “Isn’t this cute?”

Gemini glanced away from the screen. “Hm?”

“Look.”

It was a picture from a family influencer account. A toddler in oversized sunglasses and a yellow hat, smiling with two missing teeth, holding his mom’s hand while wearing matching clothes. 

“Cute,” Gemini said casually.

But confusion followed right behind the answer. He looked at Fourth instead of the phone. His husband was smiling to himself, clearly entertained.

He squinted, “That’s new.” 

“What is?”

“You usually give a full lecture about how posting children online is reckless and irresponsible.”

“It is,” Fourth replied automatically, then paused. “Still cute.”

Gemini huffed a quiet laugh. “You usually-”

Fourth bumped his forehead lightly against Gemini's shoulder. “Don’t analyze everything like it’s evidence.”

“...Okay,” Gemini said carefully.

Fourth lowered the phone, but the small smile stayed.

A few days later, the topic returned in a different shape.

They were in the kitchen after work. Gemini stood by the counter, eating a piece of bread straight from the bag, still wearing his work clothes with a loosened tie. 

Fourth leaned against the fridge, watching him like he had something important to deliver and no idea how to start.

“I ran into P’Emi earlier,” Fourth opened the conversation.

“Who?” Gemini asked around a bite.

“Boonie’s wife, my friend from college.” Fourth looked a little hesitant to continue, “I met her in front of the office. She looked tired, but also excited.”

“Oh, right. That one.”

“She announced that Boonie’s pregnant.”

Gemini swallowed and reached for another piece of bread. “Aw, really?”

“Yeah.”

“How far along?”

“About five months, she said.”

Gemini nodded once. “That’s good.”

And that was it —no big reaction, no following comment. Just a calm acknowledgement while kept eating the bread.

Fourth pressed his lips together slightly. He had imagined this conversation like opening a door between them. Instead, it just sat there, closed without even starting.

Of course, he didn’t react that much. They both were drowning in work. He was busy as a civil litigation partner, handling too many cases at once. And Gemini was preparing to take over his family company fully. For some weeks, they even barely managed dinner together without checking emails first. 

So, a child definitely didn’t fit easily into that picture.

But doesn’t life never really ‘fit’ first? Maybe people decided, then adjusted. They had been together for more than twelve years and married for five. They knew each other’s worst and best. That had to count for something. Enough to enter one more level.

Right?

Or was he the only one thinking about it?

Was Gemini ready?

…Was he?

“Fourth?”

Fourth was startled and looked up quickly. Gemini is watching him now, bread forgotten in his hand.

“Huh?”

“I asked what you want for dinner tonight,” Gemini said. His tone had shifted softer, looking concerned. “You were gone somewhere.”

“I was just thinking.”

“I can see that.” Gemini stepped closer. “Wanna takeout? So neither of us has to cook.”

“Emm.” Fourth rubbed the back of his neck, buying time. His thoughts were still tangled.

Gemini studied his face. “You okay? You seem distracted.”

“No. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

Fourth looked hesitant. The question pressed at his throat, the same one he had dissolved into the wind nights ago. 

“Gem,” he said quietly, fingers curling against each other, “do you think we’d be suitable to have a child?”

Gemini froze for a full second after the question landed. Suddenly, the question he thought he had misheard that night came back into his head. 

It wasn’t what he expected to hear again in the kitchen, between bread crumbs and grocery lists. Of all the serious topics, Fourth usually brought with careful structure and bullet points, this one came out soft and unguarded. 

“I didn’t know you were thinking about that.”

Fourth looked ready to retreat immediately. “Forget it. I was just asking.”

“No.” Gemini put the bread down. “Don’t take it back that fast.”

And he meant it. Because beneath the surprise, there was a warm, steady yes rising in his chest. He had imagined it before. Not often, but enough to know the idea made him smile.

“I’d like that,” Gemini said. “With you, I mean.”

Fourth's eyes lifted, searching his face for hesitation.

“I’ve actually looked into some options,” Fourth said carefully, like he had been holding the folder in his mind for weeks. “Different legal paths. The timelines, cost ranges, agencies, and medical requirements. There are three realistic routes for us, depending on the jurisdiction and—”

Gemini looked bewildered. “You made categories?”

“Yes.” Fourth nodded, already reaching for his phone. “I didn’t want to bring it up without preparation.”

Charts appeared, notes, bookmarked articles, and a spreadsheet. An actual spreadsheet.

Gemini felt both confused and oddly touched. “How long have you been planning this briefing?”

“I wasn’t planning. I was researching.”

“That is planning with better branding.”

Fourth frowned. “I’m serious.”

“I can see that,” Gemini said, smiling.

Fourth continued. Adoption channels, legal risks, surrogacy frameworks, and some cross-border complications. He spoke like he was presenting a case strategy. His eyes were radiant, with his hands moving when he talked. He looked excited, like how Gemini always looks in him when he won a difficult motion in court.

And Gemini loved it. He leaned against the counter, listening to all the explanations from his cute husband. 

He wanted a child. That part was simple. He also believed they could choose whatever path worked, as long as it was legal, safe, and truly theirs. The details mattered, but not as much as the core truth.

“I’m in,” Gemini said.

Fourth stopped mid-sentence. “You haven't even heard the third option yet.”

“I don’t need all three to know I want this with you.”

Fourth’s smile faltered. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I am.”

“You’re being too casual.”

Gemini laughed softly. “Because I trust you.”

“That’s not the same as being serious.”

“It is, for me.” Gemini reached out and squeezed his wrist. “You already built the map. You understand the paperwork, the risks, and the process. I know how your brain works. If you prepared this much, it’s solid.”

Fourth pulled his brows together. “You’re just delegating.” 

“I’m partnering,” Gemini corrected. “I’m saying, I want a child with you. However, we get there. I’m not picky about the road.” 

That should have helped, he thinks. Instead, Fourth bit his lip, his face suddenly showing an uncertain look. The energy that had lifted him a minute ago dipped.

“Sorry, maybe I rushed,” he murmured. “Maybe I got ahead of myself.”

Gemini tried to stop him, but Fourth pulled his hand away, saying he needed to work on something in his study, and ended the moment badly. The conversation wasn't properly closed. It just dissolved into the evening.

.☘︎ ݁˖

Gemini was at the mall between meetings. His mind was still replaying Fourth’s expression that evening. He really didn't know how to convince him that he's really serious if Fourth himself seems like he's been avoiding the topic for these past two days. 

He passed a store with a window filled with pastel colors and tiny furniture.

Baby supplies.

He slowed, then stopped and stared at it for a moment.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself quietly.

But he walked in anyway.

Minutes later, he stood in front of a wall of baby shoes that were smaller than his palm. He picked up a pair without thinking too hard. Soft fabric with neutral color and no cartoon animals. Looked sensible and gentle at the same time.

He paid before he could overthink it.

At home that night, Fourth sat at the dining table with his laptop open. He looked up when Gemini entered the home.

“You’re late.”

“Mm, sorry, there’s traffic,” Gemini said, which was technically true.

Fourth nodded and went back to reading his file. “We can reheat the dinner.”

“Wait.” Gemini placed the small paper bag on the table. “I got something.”

Fourth looked puzzled. “For me?”

“...For us, maybe.”

That got his full attention. He opened the bag, then his fingers paused when he lifted the tiny shoes out.

For a moment, he said nothing at all.

Gemini suddenly felt nervous. “I didn’t know the size. Obviously. I mean, I hope that’s a normal baby size and not doll size. That would be awkward.”

Fourth’s fingers tightened around the tiny shoes. Then came a broken sound that might have been a laugh if it had not turned into a sob halfway through. His eyes filled instantly.

“Oh,” Gemini said softly. “Hey... baby,”

Fourth stood, stepped around the table, and wrapped both arms around him tightly. The shoes were still clutched in his hand.

“You’re serious,” Fourth said into his shoulder.

“I told you I was.”

“I thought you were just being supportive.”

“I am supportive,” Gemini replied. “And serious. Very serious. Well, slightly terrified, but mostly serious. I want to do it with you.” 

They stood there holding each other.

“So,” Gemini added gently, “which option did your spreadsheet like best?”

Fourth pulled back, sniffling but also giggling softly, “I think we can choose surrogacy. It’s legally cleaner for us. More predictable, and also gives us plenty of time to prepare.”

“Then let’s start there.”

Fourth searched his face one more time. And still found the same steady answer.

“Okay,” he said, smiling through tears. “Let’s start there.”

Once the decision was made, Fourth moved like a man with a mission. Days later, papers appeared on the dining table in neat stacks. Folders got labels. Tabs. Color codes. 

Gemini once looked at the fridge’s door and found a checklist stuck beside the grocery list titled ‘Parent Path Timeline.’

But the process itself stretched longer than their patience. 

Fourth showed up to every meeting with the agency early. Kept nodding too quickly, answering before the question even finished. He wore the same serious expression he used in court, except his eyes were brighter now. Gemini reached over under the table and squeezed his knee to give him some comfort.

Fourth handled most of the legal flow. Explained each step to Gemini in simple summaries at night, sitting cross-legged on the bed, with tablet in hand. Sometimes he talked too fast. Sometimes he circled back and repeated things he had already explained.

“You told me that part yesterday,” Gemini said gently.

“I refined it today.”

“Of course you did.”

Still, the excitement had a shadow behind it. Some days, Fourth went quiet halfway through his own explanation. “What if we don’t get selected?” he said once in a low voice.

Gemini closed the laptop and pulled him closer. “When it’s our turn, it will line up.”

“That’s not a good legal reasoning.”

“That’s husband reasoning.”

Fourth sighed, but leaned into him anyway.

They waited for five months.

Fourth pretended to be calm about it and failed badly. He refreshed his inbox too often and checked his phone during meetings. Gemini caught him staring at nothing more than once.

Then the news came on a Wednesday afternoon. Fourth didn’t even text him —he straight away called him. Which already meant it was big.

“We got matched!” he sounded breathless.

Gemini stood up from his desk so fast his chair rolled away. “We what?”

“We got matched.”

Gemini laughed out loud in his empty office. “Really?! I’m gonna come home early.”

“You’re still at work.”

“I’m still coming home early —we should celebrate it.”

They celebrated with takeout and too much dessert. Fourth smiled the whole evening like his face forgot how to do anything else.

After that, Gemini thought the hard part was over.

And boy, he was wrong.

Fourth can’t even relax. If anything, he became even more sensitive. His moods swung like the weather. Small things hit too deep. A delayed update message from the agency could ruin his afternoon. A medical update could make him pace the living room for an hour.

Gemini sometimes joked, “You looked like you’re the one who got pregnant.”

Which made Fourth throw a pillow at him. Then cried ten minutes later because he thought he was being difficult.

There were also nights when Gemini woke to quiet shaking beside him. Fourth would be turned away, with tight shoulders, trying not to make a sound.

“Baby,” Gemini whispered, turning him back gently. “What happened?”

“...what if we’re not good fathers,” Fourth asked with quite voice. “What if we mess it up?”

It was always that question, just in different forms.

Gemini was exhausted, his eyes burning, his body heavy from work. But he still tries to keep his voice soft. He rubbed slow circles on Fourth’s back under the blanket. Hoping this was enough to comfort him.

“We’re going to learn it together,” he murmured. “Nobody starts ready.”

“You sound too calm.”

“I’m half asleep.”

A weak laugh was heard before more sobs came.

“We’ll be okay,” Gemini repeated. “Sleep now. We have a lot of time ahead.”

After the pregnancy passed four months, something finally shifted. Not completely, but Fourth’s panic loosened its grip. 

They began talking about preparation more instead. 

Which means, preparation came with shopping.

Every month, once a week on the weekend, they went to the mall with a list that was definitely useless for Gemini.

“Look at this,” Gemini said, holding up a tiny sweater. “This is so cute!”

“It is,” Fourth agreed. “But we don’t even know yet if the baby is a boy or a girl.”

“We can find a neutral one.”

They bought a crib after the three visits and too many comparisons. Bottles. Blankets. A night lamp shaped like a moon. Room decorations that Gemini insisted were essential, and Fourth suspected were emotionally essential, not practically.

“We can buy things gradually,” Gemini reminded them, laughing as they reached the car with too many bags. “Our car’s trunk has limits.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

The late afternoon sun was already low when they carried the new car seat to the driveway. Fourth held the box like it was a personal challenge for him. “I watched the installation videos,” he announced. “This is gonna take only ten minutes.”

Gemini unlocked the car. “That confidence worries me.”

“It should impress you.”

“It does. It just also worries me.”

The car seat came out of the box with too many straps and too many adjustable parts. Fourth crouched in the back seat and started threading belts with intense focus. Meanwhile, Gemini leaned on the door frame and let him try. He knew better than to interfere during Phase One Determination.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then came the first sharp sigh.

“This design is irrational,” Fourth muttered.

“It’s designed to survive babies,” Gemini said.

“I am feeding the strap through the exact path shown.”

“You’re feeding it through the cup holder.”

Fourth paused. Looked for a sec. Repositioned without comment.

Another few minutes passed, and there was a loud click that didn’t sound correct. Then a frustrated groan.

“Why does it move?” Fourth snapped, shoving the base. “It shouldn’t move.”

“Do you want some help?” Gemini asked carefully.

“No.”

“Okay.”

Thirty seconds later, Fourth pulled the strap out completely and started over with aggressive precision. The strap twisted. The buckle flipped. The seat leaned sideways like it had given up on life.

“Arrghh! I don't care anymore!”

Fourth stood up abruptly, hit his head lightly on the door frame, swore under his breath, then marched toward the house.

“I’m done.”

Gemini waited a respectful minute, then slid into the back seat. He tried to adjust the anchor points, tightening the lower connectors, checked the level line, locked the belt path, and pressed down while pulling the strap.

Click. 

He tried to pull it tighter again, just in case it wasn't quite right.

It was solid.

Okay, he decided not to mention it again later.

That night, the house felt heavy. Fourth sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling without really seeing anything. Gemini joined beside him, his shoulder brushing against him.

“You okay?” he asked

Fourth groaned. “I don’t know what is wrong with me?”

Gemini turned a little toward him. “Please don't sulk at me. I’m on your side. That car seat was really complicated.” 

Fourth hesitated. “I’m not sulking at you… I just —maybe I’m just overreacting.”

“Calm down a little.”

“I don’t know why I keep doing that lately.” Fourth exhaled slowly. “I don’t know why I'm this tense. Like —I wanted this. I pushed us for this. And now I’m the one panicking all the time.”

“That doesn’t make you guilty.”

“It feels like it is.”

Gemini shook his head. “We chose this together. You didn’t drag me into parenthood with forged signatures.”

Fourth huffed. “You would notice.”

“I would hope so.”

A soft silence settled. 

“We can enjoy preparing,” Gemini continued. “We don’t have to treat every step like a final exam. It’s allowed to be messy and slow.”

“I’m scared,” Fourth admitted quietly.

“Me too,” Gemini shifted closer to his side. 

Fourth looked up. “You don’t look scared.”

“I am scared. I just… don’t fight it. I know things are gonna happen, and I let that happen rather than thinking about it.”

Gemini smiled. “And I’m sure about us.”

Fourth studied his face like he expected fine print. Whatever he saw there helped. His shoulders lowered a little.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Gemini opened his arms without comment. Fourth moved in automatically, folding into the hug, pressing his forehead against his neck. They stayed like that long enough for the day to finally leave their bodies. 

When Fourth looked calmer. Gemini started to kiss his hair, then his temple, following the line down without much patience left between each stop.

Fourth laughed softly. “You escalated quickly.”

“I was being supportive.”

Gemini kissed him again, this time properly, and Fourth leaned back onto the mattress with a surprised sound.

“Wait,” Fourth laughed, hands on his shoulders. “Calm down a little.”

Gemini answered by kissing him again, slower but no less intent. Fourth tried to keep teasing and failed halfway through the next breath.

After months of mood swings, spreadsheets, midnight fears, and emotional whiplash, the closeness felt easy again. 

A warmth they both recognized.

Fourth broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, looking amused, “You’re too eager.”

“It’s been a while since you let yourself think about me. Let us have this moment,” Gemini said.

Fourth’s laughter dissolved into softer sounds as he pulled him closer instead of pushing him away.

They ended up tangled under the blanket, smiling into the same pillow. The worry didn’t disappear, but it loosened enough to make space for this. 

.☘︎ ݁˖

The weekend finally gave them a free afternoon. No meetings. No calls. No urgent emails marked red. Just sunlight coming through the windows and a room that still smelled faintly of fresh paint and unopened boxes. 

The future nursery stood half finished with stacked packages along the wall. A rolled rug, a changing table, and three bags of things Gemini had insisted were necessary for the baby. 

The baby crib box lay open on the floor like a challenge.

Gemini crouched beside it, scanning the parts. “Okay. This is manageable.”

Fourth stood beside him. “You said that about the car seat, and yet we barely managed it.”

“That was different. This is just a big Lego set,” Gemini said with confidence, then picked up the drill. “You hold the side panel. I’ll secure it.”

Fourth’s grip tightened on the wood frame. Gemini watched it for a second longer than needed. He didn’t say what he was thinking, which was that he preferred Fourth far away from the drill trigger. 

Stress and power tools weren’t a comforting pairing.

“Ready?” Gemini asked.

“Wait,” Fourth said. “We should follow the steps.”

“I already understand the steps.”

“You looked at it for four seconds.”

“It’s intuitive.”

Fourth narrowed his eyes. “Where are the instructions?”

Gemini paused.

“Gem,” Fourth repeated slowly.

“I might have put them somewhere safe.”

“Do you mean you lost them?”

“They were optional.”

Fourth dropped the panel onto the floor, still wrapped in plastic, and started digging through the packaging with rising irritation. “We are not assembling our child’s bed on vibes.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“It’s a rectangle with bars.”

Fourth found the booklet under the foam and held it up like legal evidence. “Sit.”

Gemini sat. 

For the next fifteen minutes, they worked side by side. Gemini drilled the part. Fourth read each step out loud and hand him the correct screw like a surgical assistant who didn’t trust the surgeon.

“Step five," Fourth said. “Long bolt. Not the medium.”

“They look the same.”

“They are not the same.”

“They are spiritually the same.”

Fourth sighed deeply. “You are impossible.”

“And yet useful,” Gemini said as the frame tightened into place.

Somewhere between step seven and step eight, Fourth spoke again, his tone suddenly lighter.

“Have you thought about names?”

Gemini was lining up a bracket. “For the crib parts?”

“For the baby.”

“Oh...” He tightened the screw. “Anything is fine.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It is a very flexible answer.”

Fourth ignored that. “What about Arthon?”

Gemini snorted. “That sounds like a retired judge.”

“It means stability and authority.”

“Exactly my point.”

Fourth frowned. “Meanings matter.”

“So doesn’t sound like you file tax appeals for fun.”

Another screw went in.

“Okay then,” Fourth tried again. “What about Thana?”

“That is even more judge name.”

“It is a good name.”

“I don’t want our kid introducing himself and people expecting a 45-year-old.”

Fourth clicked his tongue. “You’re biased.”

Gemini glanced at him. “I am cautious.”

“Fine. You choose.”

Gemini shook his head. “Official name is your department. As long as it works with my family name, Titicharoenrak.”

Fourth looked up sharply. “Why would it be your family name?”

Gemini leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips before protest could occur, then dissolved into surprised silence. 

“Because,” Gemini said calmly, going back to the bolt, “you look cute when you’re about to argue.”

Fourth tried to stay annoyed and failed.

“Okay,” He said, recovering. “Then we also need a nickname.”

“That I care about.”

They continued assembling. The crib now stood upright, missing only one side rail.

“Jin?” Fourth offered.

“Sounds too much like some K-pop idols you like.”

“You’re stereotyping names now.”

“I’m right, and you know it.”

“Alright. Err?”

Gemini looked over slowly. “Why are we naming our first child number two?”

Fourth burst out laughing. “I’m the first child, and my mom called me number four.” He wiped his eyes.

“What about Mark?”

Gemini turned his head with exaggerated suspicion. “Isn’t Mark your college friend?”

“I know several Marks.”

“Exactly. Too mainstream. Our kid deserves at least moderate originality.”

“Moderate originality,” Fourth repeated. “Listen to yourself.”

“Trademark pending.”

They attached the final rail, pushing until it clicked.

Fourth tapped the crib. “Mork?”

Gemini closed his eyes briefly. “What's the difference between that and Mark?” 

“Mork Titicharoenrak.”

“No.”

Fourth laughed again, leaning into his shoulder. “You’re no fun.”

“I am the only fun here. I saved this crib from being built upside down.”

They stepped back to look at the finished crib. The room now felt different with it standing there. It felt less like a project and more like a promise.

Fourth’s voice softened. “It’s actually happening.”

Gemini nodded. “Yeah.”

Fourth slipped his hand into Gemini’s waist. There is a beat of quiet between them.

“You still scared?” Gemini asked gently.

“A little,” Fourth admitted. “But also excited.”

“That’s a good mix.”

Fourth squeezed his fingers. “Thank you for not free building this like a Lego.”

“It's my pleasure to be with you in all these preparations,” Gemini said, grinning.

Fourth leaned in and gave him a little peck. Gemini answered by pulling him back for a second kiss, a slower one. 

.☘︎ ݁˖

They didn’t remember how they got into the car. One moment, it was dark and quiet, then the phone was ringing. The next moment, they were dressed carelessly, using the wrong slipper, keys in hand, doors half-locked, and the lights left on somewhere in the house.

Fourth sat in the passenger seat, his body shaking with phone unlocked, searching, scrolling, calling, rereading the same message from the agency over and over like the words might change.

“They said active labor,” Fourth said in a thin voice. 

“They said progressing. What does progressing mean exactly? There are stages. Why didn’t they specify the stage?”

Gemini kept both hands on the wheel. “It means the baby is on the way.”

“That isn’t a technical answer.”

“That is the only answer that matters at three in the morning.”

Traffic was almost empty. Streetlights flashed across the windshield in a steady rhythm. Gemini drove fast but controlled. Fourth bounced his knee hard enough to shake the seat.

“Why didn't they answer the phone again?” Fourth muttered. 

“You just called.”

“I need confirmation!”

“You got confirmation!”

Fourth called again anyway.

When the line didn’t pick up immediately, he made a small broken sound and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, angry at himself for crying and unable to stop.

“Fourth,” Gemini said louder than normal. “Breathe.”

“Don’t tell me to breathe!"

“It is keeping you from hyperventilating.”

Fourth glared at him and then obeyed without admitting it.

At the hospital entrance, Gemini slowed to turn toward the parking place.

“Closer,” Fourth snapped. “Find somewhere closer.”

“I am trying.”

“This is too far.”

“This is the legal spot.”

“I don’t care about the law right now.”

“You sound like a kid right now,” Gemini said, turning into the first open slot he saw. 

But Fourth was already opening the door before the car fully stopped. He walked fast through the automatic doors, which turned into jogging, then turned into full running down the corridor. Meanwhile, Gemini tried to follow, half chasing, half apologizing to the universe.

“We are not supposed to run here,” He called.

Fourth looked like he didn't care about it. 

By the time they reached the waiting area outside the delivery section, Gemini was out of breath. Fourth was too, but the adrenaline kept him upright and vibrating.

An agency coordinator stood and greeted them softly, with a practiced and calm voice. Fourth switched instantly into question mode. The timelines, status, and safety updates. He listened like he was in a courtroom again, except his hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

“Everything is progressing normally,” the coordinator repeated. “The medical team is with her.”

Gemini finally felt his shoulders drop an inch. Though Fourth didn't. He nodded, thanked her, then stood staring at the closed doors like that could will make them open faster.

“I’m getting water,” Gemini said quietly. “Two minutes.”

Fourth didn't answer it. He was somewhere else inside his head.

The cafeteria was nearly empty. Gemini bought some bottled water and a handful of snacks he knew Fourth would like to have for later. When he came back, his husband was still in the same spot, with the same posture, as if time had paused around him.

Gemini pressed the cold bottle into his hand.

Fourth blinked. He looked down, then took it automatically.

Gemini didn't give a speech. He just rested his palm on Fourth’s shoulder and rubbed slowly, with steady pressure, the same rhythm he always used to him during midnight panic nights.

It felt like a lifetime later when Gemini pushed the door in their home with his shoulder while reaching back to steady the carrier basket in Fourth’s hands. 

The house greeted them with silence. It has familiar walls and familiar air. But had a completely different feeling.

Fourth stepped inside like he was walking on clouds. He didn't speak, barely even blinked. He only looked down at the basket.

The baby slept, wrapped tight and warm. His face was small and soft, too perfect to make sense.

Gemini locked the door and turned.

Fourth was still standing in the middle of the living room, holding the carrier, staring like he had forgotten how to move next.

“Fourth,” Gemini said softly, touching his shoulder.

Fourth looked up slowly, like surfacing from deep water.

“We should go to the nursery,” Gemini said.

Fourth nodded once.

They walked there together. The room they had built piece by piece. Argued over. Laughed in. The crib stood waiting exactly where they left it.

Now the real owner was already here. 

Fourth leaned over and carried the baby while Gemini held the basket. He lowered the baby into the crib with infinite care. His hands hovered a second after letting go, like gravity itself needed supervision.

Baby Mork slept through the whole ceremony.

Fourth stared down, expression blank with overload emotion. No smile or words. His feelings were so big it erased everything else.

“Gem,” he whispered after a long time. “Are we really allowed to bring him home?”

Gemini laughed softly and kissed his forehead. “Yes. He’s ours.”

Fourth let out a shaky breath that turned into a small, disbelieving laugh. Tears filled his eyes immediately. He tried to blink them back and failed.

“I’m so happy,” Fourth said, voice breaking anyway.

“I know,” Gemini answered, pulling him into a careful hug. “Me too.”

Fourth laughed and cried at the same time against his shoulder. The crib they built held their son. The home they had now held all three of them.