You ARE The Father! [Finished!]

[Bee]

"If you'd care to make a list of what's so fucking good about it, I'd love to read it."

The toast popped up. Jin yanked it from the toaster. Looking at toast made him nauseated again. Why did it have to be so brown and barren? Would it kill the fucking toast to make itself appealing? He set the toast down and tried to look at it again. Maybe if he closed his eyes and crammed it in his mouth?

What the hell, why not. He tried it. The toast felt like a desert on his tongue. He was chewing sand, crumbling and disgusting. He sensed he had just lost his battle with nausea. He managed to swallow the sand. Oh fuck, there it was. He fucking loathed puking.

"Go to work," he managed to order in Rin's general direction, and scrambled out of the kitchen.

[Dark]

Well, it could have been worse, he supposed. Rin watched Jin rush off in the direction of the bathroom, rant interrupted as the toast failed at beating nausea, and made a mental note not to use the word 'good' around Jin again. (There was a growing list of things that were not recommended to say or comment on in any sort of vicinity to Jin; and not even then, really, because he seemed to have an innate ability to just know, regardless).

And because he didn't want to be there when Jin was done loosing what little was in his stomach, Rin finished off his coffee with a large swallow and followed the order that had been barked at him. (As much as it pained him, it was a better alternative to waiting for Jin to come out and finding him still there).

He went to work.

[Bee]

[Eight weeks later.]

Rin had attempted to persuade him into purchasing some lowly plastic monstrosity to house their sleeping children, but Jin gently and firmly informed him that he was having absolutely none of that bullshit.

"Structurally unsound," he pronounced, putting a paw against the model of the crib, disturbed by how easily it wobbled. One good shove, or one very fussy baby, might send the whole thing into shambles, in his discerning opinion.

It wasn't even very big. He hoped to whatever powers might take pity on him that there was only one or two spawn, but they couldn't count on it, and he didn't want them getting cramped and baby-fighting each other...however incredibly amusing that might be to watch and place bets on. "You wanna fuckin' put your kids in something like this?" He pointed to a larger, nicer, wooden crib. "We should have something like that."

[Dark]

"Whatever you want," Rin answered dutifully. He had learned rather quickly that arguing--or even trying to have a rational discussion--got him nowhere when dealing with Jin. For peaceful coexistence, he needed to learn how not to have an opinion at all; maybe then Jin would be happy.

He glanced at the crib he'd suggested--there was nothing wrong with it; the wobble Jin seemed so concerned about had been produced by a full-grown, pregnant adult doing his damned best to make it wobble, and even then it was only barely--and then looked at the crib Jin wanted. It was a nicer crib, but it was also three times as expensive and his entire paycheck.

Rin prepared himself for the mental trauma of handing over such a large sum of money; it never seemed to help when the moment came, but there wasn't anything else he could do about it, was there.

[Bee]

Jin didn't see what Rin looked so strained about. It wasn't like his paycheck was their only income--Jin's, while slightly less regular, was usually always higher. Besides, his children were only going to have the best. This was a small price to pay for the health and well-being of the spawn. They were here in the capitol, with so many options, not out in the snowy wilderness, and he'd be fucked as a dock whore if they didn't get the nicest and most functional things available.

Whatever you want, however, was a phrase he enjoyed hearing, and he had been hearing rather a lot of it lately. Rin was slowly coming around to his way of thinking, probably, and he couldn't be more pleased. It made things run more smoothly. He contemplated grabbing a couple of toys while they were shopping, but he didn't want the kids to have too many--he wanted them outside and playing as soon as they were able; it was essential for the development of strong, healthy children. He didn't want their minds and bodies weakened by all these child diversions that prompted such a sedentary life.

"Fantastic," he said. He paused. "Lunch time. After we buy this we can pick up some--oh shit, how does this sound? Strawberry and salmon salad." He had long since stopped caring about holding back on the odd food he wanted. Restraint had little benefit.

[Dark]

Rin had become accustomed to catering to Jin's bizarre food cravings; it took some creativity on his part, quite often, considering most of the foodstuffs he was ordered to retrieve would never be willingly combined for consumption by the normal consumer. Strawberry and salmon salad was actually rather tame in comparison to some of the other things Jin had wanted over the course of his pregnancy, though.

He paid the clerk morosely, trying not to think about how poor he was now--again; and after he fed Jin, he'd be flat broke--and left instructions to have the crib delivered to the apartment later that afternoon, hopefully before he left for work.

He'd been switched to night-shift, recently, and it would have been a blessing--the customers that came that late were usually of an interesting sort, but there were less of them--if he wasn't stuck running errands for Jin during the day. Since He Was Home And Not Doing Anything Productive.

Rin sighed, "Alright. Let's get lunch." Salmon, strawberries, and salad. Coming up.

[Bee]

[12 weeks later.]

When Jin had told him that the children's room needed to be an aesthetically pleasing shade of deep Solandrian blue--yet light enough so that the infants did not become depressed--Rin had offered a "Whatever you want" and set to work, a phrase which now pissed Jin off for reasons he was unable to articulate properly--but would be, given enough time, and he planned on letting Rin know exactly what they were.

Now he was overseeing the work--he had started the venture helping, and quite fuckin' well he might add, but it became readily apparent that Rin needed constant supervision to do the job correctly. Besides, he could reach places Jin couldn't--high up near the ceiling, for one.

"Consider it your punishment," he said, with only trace amounts of venom, "for making me horrifically obese."

He was actually absurdly pleased to only have a month to go before the sprog finally popped, both to have them out and to see them, but this weight bullshit could go fuck itself right off the side of cliff. He wished, not for the first time in his life, that he'd been born with an ordinary pelt, and some fucking body fat, so it wouldn't look this bleeding stark, but there was nothing for it but make Rin suffer. It was stunningly therapeutic, even after all these weeks.

[Dark]

Rin continued painting; it would have been nice if Jin had continued at least the pretense of assisting him in preparing the baby room, but he seemed quite content now in his role of playing dictator.

He considered the man's remark as he carefully edged where the wall met the ceiling; damned if he answered--with the acceptation of the baby bump, Jin really wasn't that much heavier; something Rin worried about at times--and damned if he didn't--as if his noncommittal silence actually meant he agreed, which heaven forbid he agree that Jin was fat (even if Jin had been the one to suggest it first).

There was no winning with the man, these days; even Rin's unerring complacency seemed to piss him off. The only thing getting him through the ordeal was that time was nearly up; soon, Jin would go back to normal acerbic-Jin, rather than hormonal-Jin. It was a heady thought.

[Bee]

Rin's refusal to respond (either to agree or challenge him) irked him immensely, and for a moment he merely glared up intently at the bat's turned back, willing him to fall and break his neck in a very painful but non-fatal way. But he remained infuriatingly up in the air. He thought about being angry about this for another couple of minutes, but then one of his little asshole tenants promptly began punching insides, and for a moment he forgot about Rin entirely in favor of being proud of his spawn for causing so much pain.

"At least they seem to have inherited my strength," he said, pleased. He glanced up toward Rin again, anger having evaporated. The room really looked nice, on the whole, and he was certain the children would respond favorably to it. The paint looked smooth, even, so at least Rin hadn't failed entirely at his work. "Good job," he said.

[Dark]

[Four weeks later.]

Rin had been sitting in the kitchen for a very long time now, staring at a cup of long-cold coffee and waiting for the midwife to reappear and tell him it was all right if he went in. He wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed--the last time he had looked at the time was when the tick tock tick of the wall-clock had driven him to permanently disabling the device taunting him--and he felt anxious and vaguely nauseated from prolonged suspense.

How long did it take to give birth? A ridiculous amount of time had passed since Jin's contractions had started. How many were there? Surely more than one--two? three?--with how long it had been. What if something had gone wrong? Surely the midwife would have spoken to him, then.

And then the midwife finally made her appearance, smiling serenely, and he was led back.

"Jin?"