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Sash sometimes still couldn’t believe this was his life now.
He always thought he’d be Metal Sonic forever, doomed to be nothing more than a copy.
But as he looked in the mirror, taking in purple skin, magenta eyes and dark purple hair, he finally felt real.
And any day now, he was going to enter a new chapter of his life.
That of a Father.
It was still surreal to have the title of husband; if he was completely honest, often, upon waking up and putting it on, he would stare at his wedding ring in silence before his wife starting to wake up would snap him out of his contemplation.
Speaking of his wife, her arms wrap around him from behind; he sighs softly, putting his hands over hers. She smells like strawberries.
It's comforting.
"What are you thinking about?" Her lips press against his cheek; he grins without thinking about it.
"About our Anak."
"Right, it'll be any day now, won't it?" She hugs him tighter, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. "It's exciting, isn't it?"
"And terrifying."
Her giggle makes his heart flip "And terrifying, but you'll be a good dad, Sash, I know you will."
"Would you be willing to do a reading for me again?"
"Of course."
Settling down in their nursery, Sash looks at the pearlescent shell as the incubator gently rocks and turns the egg as needed. He rests his hand on the window; his heart feels full, and he swallows the lump of emotion in his throat.
"Sash?"
Amy has her cards out, and he turns his attention to her fully. "I'm ready, Rosy."
She shuffles her cards. Normally, she'd ask what someone specifically wanted from the cards, but she knew what he'd have answered, and so she drew.
The Emperor.
Strength
The Star.
Six of Cups.
The Sun.
Leaning in and kissing his cheek, Amy started to explain.
"The Emperor means you'll be a protector and a provider to our baby."
"Strength means kindness, compassion and patience. Even though you're afraid right now, it won't stop you from loving them."
"The Star" she's beaming at this one, "it's about hope; thanks to you our baby will grow up always looking forward to tomorrow, never dreading it."
"Six of cups, it means laughter. Homemade traditions. Tiny shoes left by the front door. Bedtime stories. Birthday cakes."
"Stories and traditions that were lost coming back."
"Yeah, it does. They'll know what it means to be a water dragon."
She doesn't need to explain; The Sun, his thumb brushes over the card.
"Happiness," he holds her hand, his voice soft, "I remember you pulled this one when I was worried about our marriage."
"And now it's here again," she gives him a quick peck. "So, feel better?"
"Yeah, I do..." Sash notices her eyes widen before she bolts up "Amy, what's-?"
"Egg! They're-!" she rushes to the incubator, her tail wagging a mile a minute "Sash!"
Stumbling over the chair, he drops to his knees beside her. The egg is wobbling around, with scratches coming from inside.
"Okay, okay, it's happening!"
Amy whistles to their baby, and the scratching picks up, little cracks appearing in the shell. "Oh, I want to help..." Her ears flick with her nerves.
"I know, Rosy. I know."
Sash's tail nervously thuds against the floor as he watches their baby pip the egg, letting out quiet squeals and squeaks as they rock around before resting again.
"Oh...that's our..." Amy's crying, and she tucks herself against his chest.
"Yeah..." his voice comes out choked, cracking, and he clears his throat.
Unsure what to do since hatching took time, Sash simply began to sing a hele, keeping his voice soft and steady.
Amy sniffles, "I like hearing you sing; you should do it more often."
"I will; our baby deserves to be sung to in both our languages, and no offence, love, but your Filipino is still terrible."
"Hey!" Despite the indignation in her tone, she's laughing.
A squeak comes from the egg again, and Sash chuckles, "I love you both so much."
"We know you do."
They spent the next fifteen hours resting and checking on their baby.
Eventually the egg splits open, and with a loud protesting squeal, their baby flops out on the towel in the incubator, kicking little legs and waving tiny fists.
Amy gets to hold her first, yes, her; he had a daughter.
When she's handed over to him, swaddled and resting, he takes her in, his vision blurring.
"Oh..."
She's purple like him, tiny little horn buds on her head, little fin ears that are nearly translucent and so very small.
Ten little fingers and six tiny toes on little paws.
She has her mother's nose; she sneezes when he strokes her face.
How had he made something so small?
It didn't feel real, yet it was.
She was real.
"Kumusta, anak." He pressed his nose into her little quills. "Kumusta."
Oh. He's crying. Amy pressed against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Mahal ko, mahal na mahal kita."
Amy stroked her hand, and their baby grabbed her finger tight.
"Welcome home, Lilac, welcome home."