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"Spamton!! Spamton, come back here!!" Tenna yelled, interrupted by a strained growl. "Your baby is crowning!!"
Spamton scurried off the bathroom, carrying a new batch of fresh towels to replace the ones soaked and soiled on the bed under his partner. This entire pregnancy had been difficult, but this labor more than anything: a full day of latent, inconsistent contractions, nine hours of active labor, the last four dedicated to pushing out the first of the two babies they were expecting. Tenna had tried a number of positions during those four hours, and it seemed now that the final, decisive one was kneeling up on the bed, bent over and arms resting at the ornamented framing of the foot of the bed, claws stabbing and ripping at the wood. As Spamton approached, he briefly stared at Tenna arching himself forwards, groaning through another contraction, the gray fuzz on his body disheveled and soaked in steam, sweat, and other bodily fluids unknown to the addison, chastising the short bed poles for support, struggling with the baby in his birth canal. The little salesman swallowed dry, and leaned in so he could be in Tenna's eyesight.
"Maybe I should grab that ambyu-lance I got outside, Teeny, it's been t-"
Tenna grabbed him by the arm and yanked him underneath him, neatly folded clean towels splaying over his lap. The addison felt minuscule under him (which, compared to his fifteen feet of height and distended twin-carrying belly, he was), and helpless to do much to ease his pain.
"You're not going anywhere!" Tenna blasted, his screen tinged red with the strain. "Aaaaargh… you're catching it! The… ughhh… The baby's-"
He concentrated on the pushes, and Spamton nodded with a whimpery "okay". He'd been extraordinarily unprepared for this, busy he's been most of the last few months driving back and forth between Cyber City and TV World for business and leisure. Spamton hadn't even flown in to Tenna's getaway resort penthouse slash birth retreat in Kodakoda Island until Tenna's estimated due date, which caused their fair share of bickering, but granted, he'd been there and supportive the whole three weeks since. Tenna had been difficult, resentful of his tardiness, bloated and sore all over, and he couldn't really blame him for being in a sour mood, even through Spamton rubbing his lower back, bringing him breakfast in bed, showing him all the newborn clothes he'd purchased in Cyber City. However, Tenna had made up his mind much earlier that only himself and Spamton would be in the room to welcome their children into the world, even dispensing Mike from the spectacle, a welcome surprise for pretty much everybody else; Spamton flew in an ambyu-lance all the way from Cyber City to stand guard for his own ease of mind. Another huff from the television brought him back from his anxious thoughts to reality.
"D-do you see it?" Tenna growled. "Is it— uugh— is it moving? I can't — aaaaghh — I can't tell…"
Spamton trailed his eyes from the spot on the base of Tenna's screen he'd been fixating on, down his loose open shirt and the trickle of salt and pepper fur on his chest, bracing himself against the sheer volume of his partner's belly, and finally, past his bush,and to the dodge ball-sized tousled, wet and matted fur crown of their firstborn child. To say it was inching out with each strained push from its father was an overstatement, but to say it didn't move at all would be flat out lying, and Spamton prided himself in being an honest man. He swallowed dry.
"Y-you're doing great, Teeny."
Tenna tried to struggle a few more words out, something that sounded like him calling his partner names unfit for prime time again, but contractions and pushes interrupted all of them. Spamton knew from the past day and a half that Tenna had grown tired of calming words and encouragement and it would only make him even more angry and unwilling to control his strength. They would already have to replace a good portion of the pillows, now shredded to pieces and their innards spread all over the room. He already had his dreams of a quick, gentle, soft and calm birth just like the ones in soap operas and romance movies shattered, somewhere when the Braxton Hicks started chastising him two days ago. Tenna didn't want coaching or reassurance anymore — he just wanted that baby out of him, the pressure down his back through his pelvis and intense dull ache gone.
After a strained, excruciated yell, he dipped his head down, panting quickly, hot breath steaming Spamton's glasses. He could tell what was going on even through impaired eyesight — his partner was losing resolve, and the baby's head was maybe only halfway out. He was too tired, in too much pain to say anything, but the way he grimaced, the edge of his screen warped, the way his antennae hung defeated, that was all that Spamton needed to know. He locked eyes with the gap in his partner's face, and wordlessly put one of his hands on Tenna's furry thigh, first petting it against the grain, then moving his hand to the inner thigh and gently pushing it a bit out with his knuckles. His other hand gingerly splayed over the other thigh, close to the groin and to their child, moist with amniotic fluid and slick. Spamton was silently offering micro-adjustments in his position; 'you don't want me to talk', the laboring father could understand, 'but I'm here for you, the way you want me to'. Tenna returned to pushing, and Spamton decided to count them in his mind to keep his cool(someone had to). It wouldn't take much longer now.
Twenty one more pushes, between grunts, growls and screams, was what took Tenna to birth the baby's head. Two more, and it slid onto its other father's lap, a wet mess of tousled, wiry gray fur, paws, a telltale lack of eyes and an even more telltale pointy addison nose. And, as his father started wrapping him in the towels he landed on, he cried for the first time, loud and unruly and healthy. Tenna slumped his shoulders, taking a few deep breaths, holding his stomach with one of his hands and recovering himself.
Three more pushes, Spamton counted. A second head crowned. Another push, and Spamton gently lunged forward to catch the second twin. Lithe and white as addisons come, she was tiny next to her two-foot-long twin, the only evidence she was even Tenna's child on the two short antennae on the top of her head and the delicate short nose, same as his, that he hid under the fake addisonian one. She wriggled, full of life, whining, healthy. His arms full of his newborn children, Spamton looked up at his partner, and again his hot breath steamed his glasses until he could barely see him.
"…And baby makes four." He said, which earned him a tired chuckle and a broad smile from Tenna, who arched forward and touched his forehead to the top of Spamton's head. It was over. They were here.
A dozen or so minutes later, aided by the ambyu-lance trying its best to apply their knowledge of plugboy live birth to the situation at hand, everything was set up. Cords were cut, infants cleaned, placenta down Tenna's gullet (reluctant, but upon the show host's insistence). Tenna was laying in the myriad of sheets and stuffing on the bed, the first of the twins nestled next to him with his head propped on his arm, now sleeping soundly. His father's massive hand was holding onto his sister, who wiggled quietly with her eyes closed.
"Aren't these the most incredible little things you've ever seen, Spamton?" Tenna's voice was almost uncharacteristically quiet, heavy with exhaustion.
"That they are." Spamton was laying next to them all, facing his family, body propped up by his elbow on one of the single unharmed pillows, looking down at the newborns. Tenna let him soak in the silence for a moment and sighed.
"Oh, I'm sorry for, for all the horrible things I said to you, Spamton, I…"
"Hey, you can pay back when I push two kids out of my cooter."
"Hahah…" Tenna laughed lazily, too hazy with tiredness to give anything more. "You don't have one…"
Spamton grinned back at him, squinting, not a smile deserving of any awards, but one, Tenna was sure, only he was privy to. His tube dipped back to focus on his little girl, his thumb brushing against her chest, going up and down with deep breaths. "She's so small…" He noted. "Look how much bigger her brother is. Do you think there's something wrong?"
Spamton studied the two children for a moment, how they took traits of both their parents, how nicely they seemed to fit together into two different and yet such well-put-together little bodies. He gave his partner his educated guess. "I don't think so… I think she's just me-sized."
Tenna hummed in understanding. His screen was dim, he seemed close to sleep, but his cheeks were still rosy from the monumental effort of birth, and every time his smile faded away from exhaustion, only dipping his head down just enough to see his two precious darlings was enough to make him smile bright and wide again.
"They're such perfect little stars… I can't believe we… we made these… Look at her little toes… And…"
"Hmm…" Spamton hummed back.
Tenna trailed off holding one of his son's hands. He gently pressed the center of his palm with his thumb, and five of the sharpest little claws unsheathed to grasp it. He gasped, and a content buzzing reverberated across his box, his throat and his body, a noise that, over their time together, Spamton had realized was something like a purr. Just cute enough for him. The movement woke the little boy up. He wiggled his limbs in a still uncoordinated stretch, rolled and wriggled his way until his little nose was deeply burrowed unto his father's neck. With a note of worried confusion, he looked up at Spamton.
"What—what's he doing? Is this okay?"
This one, Spamton was sure he had an answer. His smile broadened in recognition.
"He's burrowing, Teeny. Adlings do that."
"Burrowing…"
"Makes 'em feel safe and warm."
"Oh…" Tenna delicately bent his elbow to hold his child's head and back. "You'll always… You'll always be safe with me, my little darling."
Tenna cooed gentle words of the same caliber at his children in a whisper, and then looked up to his partner.
"Do you want to hold them, Spamton?"
"Oh, uh, I-I was the first one who did!" The addison arched an eyebrow up, testing the waters for a tease. Tenna didn't smile, but certainly because he was too tired to.
"Right, right. Well, then… Would you fetch Shuttah for me? We need to have a picture! For, for the entire crew to see them, and for your wallet…"
"Yeah, yeah, of course." Spamton slid off the bed. "You got them?"
"Mm-hmm…"
He got himself a clean change of shirt and took off from the penthouse suite to look for Tenna's one and only camerathing, passing through a myriad of staff who all stopped him to ask how their boss was doing. Kodakoda Island was still part of TV World, so the whole place revolved around Tenna just as much as the studio on the main land. As much as everyone treated him about the same as the big guy, they also regarded Spamton as somewhat more approachable. He assumed it was his blue-collar 'lift yourself by the bootstraps' charm. Or how much smaller he was. Like that's ever stopped him; size hardly ever matters anyway, and now he's got the kids to prove it. The point was, every corridor he passed, a shadowmaid would toot at him, or a zapper in a blocky suit perched on a stool would call his attention, or a handful of dice freaks would approach him with their claws behind their backs, no doubt counting the bills to pass around to winners. And they all worried about Tenna. How nice must it be, to have hundreds of people ask about your health. Spamton smiled at them, and relayed good news. "Boss is okay and so's the kids," he repeated a few times, to small crowds of staff, all the way down from the resort and even around the beaches. If in any other time he'd find it a bit annoying, it didn't really bother him now, because Spamton also enjoyed tooting his horn about his new family. All his.
The salesman found Shuttah taking pictures of a few vacationing shadowmen against the fake sunset panel Tenna had installed on the sea next to the island last year as a gift for him. It looped its arms around him in a warm embrace, and asked a few questions as they made their way back up (mostly related to how the lighting looked in the penthouse). As they came up to the door to the penthouse, a pippins with a stethoscope pressed against it startled in a jump, and, unable to find a hiding spot, squatted down next to a side table with his arms covering his head. Spamton stopped in front of him, hands on his hips. The bane of his existence, this green thing.
"Can I fucking help you?"
The pippins stared up at Spamton with ginormous eyes and a blush of embarrassment over his face, and said nothing.
"Teeny is fine, go play some russian roulette with the other boys."
"Are you sure? He yelled pretty loud and-and he was going through it a really long time!"
"You think I'd be fine like this if something bad happened to him?"
"Well I don't know you!!" He gestured wildly. "And I don't know how these things work! For all I know they could've just broke Mr. Tenna in a million pieces!"
"What, no, that's not how it works! The kids are fine, he's fine. That's all you need to know."
"Happened to my mom! Nobody's ever seen her again! I don't know, okay!!"
"What. Hey, I'm done with you. Door's open, Shuttah." Spamton shot a killer side eye to the pippins, hands in his pockets, and casually gestured for the camerathing to go in before himself.
By this time, Tenna had already fallen into the sleep he'd been missing for the last fifty or so hours, motionless with his boy still burrowed at his neck, and his other arm clutching the girl close. Spamton rubbed the back of his head, partially embarrassed by the state of the room, partially unsure what to do now.
"Well, uh. I'm not waking 'im up now. You know what he's like without beauty sleep, Shuttah. Sorry to waste your time like this."
"Ooh, but it's such good lighting to waste!" Shuttah cried and chuckled, lower than its usual volume to not wake anybody up, and gestured to the open curtains bringing a breeze in. The Dark Worlds didn't really have a sun or a bright blue sky, and Kodakoda Island wasn't going to be different. But that didn't mean it didn't have natural light, and right now that light was bursting through the window, reflecting gorgeous rays of rainbow off Tenna's darkened slumbering screen and onto the wall behind the bed. "Begs for a candid for the happy family, no?"
"I, uh. I don't know what that is, Shuttah."
The camerathing waved him off, walking past the bed to flop over at the luxurious sitting area in the penthouse, just happy to lounge for a bit. Spamton let it, because he knew how much it mattered to Tenna, a relationship from back in the Technicolor days that might be even older than himself. But who's counting. He stepped closer to the bed, kneeled up, settling his back against the headboard, and gingerly took Tenna's hand off their swaddled daughter, happy to hold her for a bit. He understood where Tenna's concerns came from, and he'd never held a newly-hatched adling before, but he knew what addison eggs were like, and his little girl would never fit inside one of them. Tenna had nothing to worry about. He run his knuckle across her silicone face just like his, now completely cleaned from all the gunk of birth. Her cheeks were a strong salmon pink, but he knew this would fade into the rosy underflesh markings he had himself as she grew older. A fond, secretive smile, the kind not even Tenna was used to seeing, crept up his face, as he moved on to touch his daughter's antenna. Just like Tenna's, hers instinctively flicked away when brushed over, something he delighted to do in tender, silent moments.
Spamton didn't really see when Shuttah left the room, but he perked up upon hearing the door on its way back, and it then brought him the picture that would be sitting in his wallet for at least the next few months.
His daughter in his arms, secretive smile making crow's feet at the corner of his eyes. A little boy twisted around from his place on his father's neck burrow that his face was caught, tiny claws shining and wiry fur now dry and puffy. The light reflecting off Tenna's dark screen framing them all at just the right angle from the wall behind, a chromatic halo enveloping all four of them.
So that's what a candid was, huh. The most beautiful, holy picture one could ever take.