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Sylus told himself he wouldn't cry. While you endure unimaginable pain, he acts as your rock. The immovable object keeping you grounded.
For his part, he doesn't cry when the first child is born, or the second. He watches the doctors warily as they weigh, measure and make sure the babies are healthy, but he spends that time kissing sweat from your forehead and assuring you it's over now, reminding you to breathe.
The nurse hands you over the first child, a little girl wrapped in pink swaddling. He accepts the second, a baby boy wrapped in blue.
That is when he cries.
As soon as everyone else is outside, he feels the shudder in his chest. The burn behind his eyes as he looks down at the plump, sweet little face of his son. He sniffles. Clears his throat to try fighting it back. But the first tears fall regardless.
"Oh, Sy..." He meets your eye. The understanding within them, the knowledge of how difficult it is for him to experience such strong emotion like this that moves him to tears. The last time you saw him cry was at your wedding; a brief moment, gone as soon as he brushed the water from his eyes. "C'mere."
Baby in one arm each, both of you work together to shift you over on the bed. It's larger than the average hospital bed, but it doesn't mean there's plenty of room for you both. Still, you scoot over to one side, and he climbs up beside you.
After all the energy you expended holding his hand so tight you think you heard bones crack, having your babies in your arms and your husband at your side, the exhaustion washes over you suddenly. Your arms weaken, but Sylus is there to wrap his arm around you and support his daughter.
"Easy, sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing his lips to your temple.
You nod, stubbornly fighting off sleep to linger in this moment. Trusting him to keep supporting the arm cradling your baby, you reach over to pull back some of the blanket around your son's face. They look identical; the same nose, the same chubby little cheeks, the same pouty lips, same little tufts of white hair on their head. You huff a tired laugh. "They're gonna look exactly like you."
He hums, smiling softly against your skin. "Damn," he whispers back. "I was hoping for a little-you."
Another wave crashes over you. Your vision blurs, eyes flutter as you drift away for less than a second. He pulls you tighter against his side. "Go to sleep, sweetie. I've got them."
You whine an incoherent complaint, but you don't fight when he gently takes your daughter into his care. You let your body be weighed down, let your eyes shut again, let the desire for rest overtake you. "Need'ta... name 'em..." you mutter out.
He hums. "I know. We'll name them when you wake up."
You snort weakly. "Luke 'n' Kieran are gonna be... disappointed..."
Your words trail off into a soft snore. He nudges you carefully so your head falls against his neck, tucking you in safely. His son rests in the crook of one elbow, his daughter along his forearm where it wraps around you. He rubs his cheek against your head, still damp with sweat. Time seems to come to a still, condensed down to stretch seconds into hours, as he appreciates the sleeping faces of his children and the steady breaths of his lover.
And in the stillness, he lets himself cry.
-
"Shh! No, put your hood-!"
Sylus smirks to himself, lingering for a moment longer than necessary outside of the door. He pretends he wasn't listening in, stepping into the doorway with a nonchalant air. You hear him and turn with a hop. "Surprise!"
Kieran holds Ofelia while Luke tries to keep her from pulling her hood off. You hold Arlo, who chews on his fist with intense focus. All five of you are dressed up in dragon onesies of various colors - yours is your favorite color as he expects, Luke and Kieran wear ones with inverted color schemes from each other, Ofelia wears yellow, and Arlo wears green. Floppy wings hang off the back, bouncing with every little movement like a fledgling who hasn't yet learned to fly.
He smiles wide, looking at his little family. "What's the occasion?" he asks, stepping forward to plant a kiss on your forehead and gently pry the hand from his son's mouth. Arlo seems to notice him then with wide eyes. He stoops down to nibble at plush cheeks, his little baby squealing with delight.
You laugh along with him. "You don't know? It's Father's Day!"
"I had no idea," he admits, rising back to his full height. When he turns to look, Ofelia and Luke seem to be having some sort of battle. She keeps pulling her hood off while Luke keeps pulling it on, both of them stubbornly trying to win over the other. She babbles angry complaints, smacking at his hands and squirming in Kieran's arms. He huffs. "You're losing."
"Aughh!" Luke groans, pulling the hood with finality over her eyes and stepping away with a pout, arms crossed and glaring at the toddler. "She's got your attitude, Boss."
He raises a brow. "Excuse me?"
Standing up straight, he quickly corrects himself. "I mean, she's really cute, Boss!"
"Mhm." Still wiggling, struggling now to pull the hood over her head with her uncoordinated hands, Sylus takes her from Kieran, holding her up on his chest and pulling her hood off. She grabs his cheeks with an excited sound. "Better?"
She tilts forward to bump her mouth against his face. He chuckles as he gives her a kiss in return.
He looks back over his family. His chest feels warm and light. A grand appreciation for all the hardships and pain it took to get him here, surrounded by his kids (yes, Luke and Kieran, too) and his love, all dressed up just for his sake.
He reaches out and ruffles the hood over Kieran's head. And knocks the hood fondly off of Luke's. Then he kisses you properly. "Thank you, sweetie."
You grin mischievously against him. "We got you one, too."
He huffs. "Of course you did."
"And you gotta put it on."
A relenting hum. "Of course I do."
-
"Sylus?" you call through the house. You didn't really expect him to wait up for you, but he always did, claiming he couldn't sleep easily without you around. But now it seems like the entire building is empty and quiet. He must be home, so where is he?
You kick off your shoes, drop your keys into a dish, and begin wandering around.
He's not in the living room, but he's left signs of playtime with the babies in his wake from sometime earlier. Not in the kitchen, but he left a plate in the microwave for you, with a note about replacing your ice cream stash after he finished it off last time. Not in your bedroom either, which is odd considering the late hour, night owl that he may be.
You wander down the hall, glance into the nursery, take two steps past the door, and pause. You step back, peering inside again. Sticking out of a crib are two feet. Adult ones, at that.
Biting your cheek to stifle a giggle, you step quietly inside. Sure enough, settled uncomfortably in the bottom of a crib is Sylus. He cradles two babies to his chest, eyes closed and lips parted slightly around slow breaths. You can't resist taking a picture or two. This is definitely your new lock screen.
Photos taken, you step closer and reach down to brush his bangs from his eyes. He hums groggily, breathing in deep and turning his head to squint his eyes up at you. He turns into your touch once he recognizes it's just you. "When'd you get back?" he murmurs in a low rasp.
"Just a bit ago," you tell him. "Was your Alaskan King not big enough for you?"
He grins lopsidedly. "They couldn't sleep."
"Ah. So this was your solution?"
"Hm."
With a big yawn and a long sigh, he slowly realizes how stuck he is. With his legs being as long as they are, he doesn't have any way of actually sitting up so he can get out. Not to mention, with both arms occupied and his broad shoulders, he's very limited in mobility.
You watch awareness cross his face; lifting his head up, he looks around at the netting and shifts experimentally to gauge maneuverability. Only to drop back down and look up at you with a helplessness you've grown familiar with after dealing with two very demanding babies. "Help me?"
-
"We've gotta wait for mommy now," Sylus croons as he pulls into the parking lot. Your plane just landed. And even though he would rather you use his private jet, you'd insisted on going along with the rest of your teammates on a regular commercial airline. That doesn't mean he didn't buy you First Class tickets, of course. (And upgrades for all your colleagues when you got onto him.) You can never avoid him spoiling you.
Arlo leans forward in his baby seat, reaching toward his papa before grabbing his feet. "A-mama," he babbles excitedly.
Sylus smiles. "That's right, baby."
His son reaches again, straining against his seatbelt to try climbing on the middle console. "Ahhh-maaaamaaaaa."
"You wanna come up here?" He watches through the rearview mirror as his Evol unbuckles the eager baby boy and lifts him up safely to the front. He catches him in his arms, reaching down momentarily to move his seat back so his son has room on his lap. He tries standing on Sylus's thighs, turning to look out the big window.
Sylus cranes his neck to peer into the backseat at his daughter. She's furiously trying to figure out how to unbuckle herself. She's seen himself and you do it several times before, but she unfortunately lacks the fine motor skills or reasoning to manage it by herself. He chuckles as his Evol undoes it for her and she makes what can only be considered a cheer for her success.
"You can come up here, too," he reassures her as his Evol picks her up and deposits her on his other leg. She attempts to climb up the steering wheel, bumping the horn.
"Wahh!" they both startle, falling back into his chest. Defensively, Ofelia lifts a little sneaker and kicks at the wheel, hitting the horn again.
He's laughing as he grabs her legs, tucking her into the crook of his elbow to tame her outburst. "It's alright, babies. Nothing's going to hurt you so long as I'm here."
Their attentions all turn outside of the windshield again, twins' fear forgotten as they both begin scrambling to reach the figure half-jogging toward the car. "A-mama!" Arlo cries, while Ofelia shouts, "A-wa-ma!"
Of course, with two eager babies climbing over the steering wheel, it's no surprise when three honks sound out in quick succession. Two babies make startled cries, but are too excited to see you again to even think of backing away.
You laugh with Sylus through the windshield, rushing to reach your family before even more people turn confused to see what the hell this parked car is honking so furiously at.
-
Sylus glances to the side just in time to watch Ofelia slap a soaked sponge against the car door. Soap suds splatter her shirt, drip to the floor, and even catch him on the nose. Her little brow is scrunched up in focus as she scoots it up and down, up and down, determined to help.
"You got it, sweetheart?"
"Ya-huh!" she chirps. She gets up on her tiptoes, tongue poking out, to reach as high up along the car as she can.
From his position crouched by the car, he pivots on his shoes to find his son. He thinks perhaps he'll be along the back, or even on the opposite side. But the clink of plastic behind him tells another story.
Lo and behold, when he turns, he finds an array of Arlo's car toys all ready and waiting for baths. The sponge is big and unruly in his hands, smacking the toys around the cement floor as he tries to clean them with the same vigor as his sister. He lands on his knees trying to reach for the next one, positioning it in front of him and giving it the same treatment.
"Do your toys need to be washed, too, baby?" he calls to the boy.
Arlo nods. "Yeah! Dey dirty! Yuck-yuck!"
Sylus chuckles softly. He stands to clean the top of the car and the windows where his babies can't reach, his own shirt getting soaked and sweaty from the work. At some point, Arlo decides he's finished cleaning his toys and tugs on Sy's pants until Sylus picks him up so he can re-clean the windows. And Ofelia decides she needs to do more to help, climbing up the bumper to sit atop suds as she scrubs away at the windshield and hood of the car, while his Evol ensures she doesn't slip and fall.
When all is said and done, he could have finished cleaning it much faster by himself, and been more thorough. But when he looks at the shine and sheen, driving back to base from the carwash with two toddlers fast asleep in the back, he hopes he'll have their help cleaning his cars for several more years to come.