#humoure

“I know you don't.” Gabe remained on the floor and watched his twin calmly. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly; this faint hint of amusement would have astonished the rest of their team if they could have seen it. It was too rare in a face they had only known to be expressionless most of the time. Unless it glowed with angry, mad – to the point of hysterical – joy during a killing spree.

“Don't bet on it,” Mike growled at him, sounding less threatening and vicious than he wanted, thanks to the burning pain in his throat. He looked into the mirror above the sink and grimaced at the pale creature with the bloodshot eyes in front of him.

“Your face looks fucked up today,” Gabe commented while he followed Mike out of the small bathroom.

“Because I'm fucking sick, ya dumb, uncaring motherfucker!” He let himself fall onto his bed, facing the ceiling, and sighed when his stomach rumbled. “And hungry... damn it, Gabe, DON'T DO THAT!”

Gabe had sat down on the edge of the bed and was again mercilessly pressing his forefinger against Mike's abdomen.

“You are always hungry. You are sick because you eat weird stuff. That Sniper you like so much is sick, too. Both of you eat weird stuff all the time.”

“Thanks for ya opinion, Dr. Dumbass. That wasn't weird stuff today, that was just breakfast. And for the nth fucking time - I can't stand that pink faggot! Why do you know that he's sick anyway?” He tried to kick his brother from the bed, when he began to fill nauseous again. “Outta my way!” Abruptly, he jumped out of his bed and hurried back into the bathroom.

“That doctor talked about it after training,” Gabe called after Mike, not caring if he was heard over the choking noises.

February

Martin shook his head. With a skeptical frown, he browsed once more through the older twin's medical file.

“I'm sorry, Michael, but I'm really at a loss. When again did you say this started?”

“Are you retarded? Told ya already five times, ya damned idiot.” Frustrated, he bit into the piece of white bread the Medic had offered him. “Two weeks ago. Listen, retard, I'm gonna puke from this anyway! Give me real food, not that crap!” He chewed the dry bread angrily, ignoring the crumbs that fell on his blanket.

“Oh please, you are glad to receive some food at all,” Jean snorted, not taking his watchful eyes from the twins. “If I had any say in this unfortunate matter, I would not feed you.” The Tentaspy left it open if he meant Mike's sickness or the twins in general.

“He has already lost weight, Jean,” Martin said calmly , re-reading his notes again.

“Good, he was getting fat.”

“Eh, go and fuck ya fat dress-up doll, ya fuckin', rotten sprat! I'm in perfect shape! Take that stinky thing away and I'll show ya how perfect!” He threw the slice of bread at the Tentaspy and tried to free himself from the tentacle that was wrapped around his waist.

Jean remained unimpressed; Mike's fingernails didn't even left a scratch on the sturdy skin, and for effectively biting the long limp, the young man wasn't flexible enough. Besides, the teeth of a human would hardly have hurt him. Grinning amusedly, he watched Mike's fruitless struggle, of course while he still observed the second twin out of the corner of his eye.

“Jean, I have to agree with Michael here. It's astonishing - in spite of his unhealthy eating habits, his weight and his blood values have always been flawless.” The Medic shrugged. “Anyway, this is weird. Sydney had the same symptoms, starting at the same time. I assumed food poisoning, but Sydney has been better since last week. Strange, very strange. I will take another blood sample and run a few different tests. Please make sure they don't interrupt me.”

Mike's eyes widened in alarm and his struggle became stronger.

“Fuck you, nothing you'll take! Gabe! Dammit, ya son of a bitch, how about doin' something?” he snapped at Gabe who stood motionless next to his bed.

“Asshole, I'll get ya for that!”

Unlike the others, he hadn't missed the very small smile that had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Worse enough that Gabe, too, wouldn't have been able to break free from the now tightening grip of the the Tentaspy. Gabe was amused by seeing his own twin suffer, and Mike was certain – the younger brother wouldn't have minded to pester him with a syringe himself. Gabe surely was in a sadistic mood lately. Mike wouldn't have minded at all, but thanks to the given circumstances, he found it all very irritating, especially this very moment.

“Uh, guys...”

“Oh non, do not tell me you have to...”

Before Jean could finish his sentence, Mike's body convulsed. Again, he emptied his stomach, but this time, a hint of glee lightened his eyes. Jean's frown of disgust deepened – of course this dreadful twin was delighted that now, the Spy's tentacle was soiled.

March

Jean and Martin exchanged another look; disbelief was written over their faces. The last few hours between the results, the Medic's talk with Sydney and this moment hadn't been enough for their minds to grasp the meaning.

The twins sat in front of them on the doctor's couch in the Medics office, Gabe with a bored, Mike with a sullen expression on his face. Being held in place and hindered from any sudden movements by Jean's tentacles had become a routine, and today was one of the rarer days when they didn't seem to be in the mood to fight back.

“How are you today, Mike?” Martin asked after Jean gave him a nudge in the back. The twin rolled his eyes.

“Same like ten minutes ago, when ya asked the last time. Dork,” he added, finding his answer not aggressive enough.

“Hm, yes, right.” The Medic put the file on his desk and stared at the older twin.

“Well, I guess,” he began and picked up the file again, “as we have a living Tenta in our team, created by humans, half man, half animal, which is still a fascinating subject in itself. It's astonishing how the cells have... what? Oh, sorry, Jean. Where was I...”

“Mentally jerking off to the image of that fish freak over there?” Mike suggested, his voice exaggeratedly sweet and polite.

“Yes, I mean no!” the Medic corrected himself when Jean disapprovingly cleared his throat.

“What I wanted to say, is, well... We've dealt with robots, zombies, chimeras. Extraordinary encounters. Keep this in mind when I tell you...” He took a deep breath, stepped forward and put his hand on Mike's shoulder.

“Michael, you are pregnant. Congratulation. I guess...”

The twins looked at each other, their faces blank. After a moment of silence, Mike slowly turned his head, facing the Medic with narrowed eyes.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think YOU CAN FUCK AROUND WITH ME?!”

Jean raised his eyebrows, wrapping his tentacles tighter around the twins. Gabe was only waiting for the signal from his brother. If Mike could, he would tear everyone to pieces with his bare hands, probably even his twin.

“Well, I don't intent to, but somebody else obviously did... Calm down, I didn't mean it, calm down,” he repeated several times, already taking a filled syringe from his desk. Mike was close to one of his rages, and if that happened, Gabe would snap, too. Even with the Tentaspy present, keeping the twins under control was never a pleasant deal.

“Michael, I ask you again to calm down,” Martin finally commanded sternly. “I would not like to inject more of this than necessary, it could be harmful to the baby.”

The older twins face grew pale and his mouth dropped open. He stopped struggling at once, gaping at the Medic in bewilderment.

“You are serious about this, aren't you?”

To hear the always so crude twin speak with this quiet, perplexed voice was as weird as the news they had just told him.

All of the sudden, Gabe, who had remained silent until now, started to giggle. An unexpected, almost childish sound. Helplessly, the younger twin was bending over the the tentacle that held him firmly. Without Jean's strong grip, he would probably have fallen from the couch and kept on laughing madly on the floor.

“Well,” Martin began his explanation, deciding to Gabe to himself and Jean's care for now, “yes, I am serious. The morning sickness, increased blood sedimentation, this extraordinarily high hcg value... but the x-ray image removed all doubts. I guess it was not... planned?”

“SHUT UP ALREADY, THAT'S NOT FUNNY, YA IDIOT!” Mike shouted at his brother, who was caught by another giggling fit. “And you, listen, ya dumbfucking asshole! If this is a sick joke, I'm gonna rip off ya freaking face and wipe my ass with it!”

“I'm afraid the usual means of cleaning yourself will have to do. I'm not joking. But I admit that it is unusual.” Martin smiled weakly, worrying for a moment about Gabe, who was close to hysterics. Well, he could use the sedative on the younger twin anytime, from what he knew no physical condition spoke against it, but after today, he wouldn't be surprised if he was mistaken.

“Twice unusual,” Jean interrupted the Medic's thoughts. The Tentaspy grinned at the doctor, revealing his sharp, pointy teeth. “Martin, tell him the rest of these amazing news.”

“Come on, brighten this shitty day,” the twin sighed. The anger suddenly disappeared, leaving a discouraged, almost scared looking Mike behind. “Do you change into a sparkling vampire-unicorn at midnight every full moon? What the fuck am I even saying here?!”

“Ah, the next indicator, mood swings. Anyway,” Martin hurried to continue when the older twin's face darkened again, “although I cannot tell you how this happened, maybe it comforts you to know that you are not alone. Dear God, this is really a weird case!”

“What do you mean, not alone?” Mike wasn't sure if he even wanted to know. He had had his fair share of bad news for one day, and hopefully, he would awake from this nightmare anytime.

“Mike, darling!”

The door flung open, and Sydney entered. His smile was even wider than usual, and his cheeks colored in a pink shade that ridiculously matched the color of his shirt. He was the perfect image of a man dripping with happiness and health. One hand rested on his flat stomach.

Gabe finally stopped giggling, his expression vacant, while Mike's eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no, ya don't...”

“Yes, my dear. Come here!” The Sniper squeezed past the Tentaspy and the Medic, and gave Mike a hearty hug. Then, he put one arm around the twin's shoulder, the other on the small part of Mike's stomach that wasn't covered by Jean's tentacle.

“Isn't that sweet, honey? Don't look so sad, I'm here for you, I'll help you. Together, we'll get through this. My, this is exciting! You should have seen Lukas' face, I thought the poor darling would faint any minute! Oh well, then again, you don't have something like that happen every day, right, sweetie? Expecting! Both of us! Do you think...”

Mike's face turned even paler. Desperately, he looked at his brother, but Gabe - his expression void of any emotion - only stared back. Mike's lips hardly moved when he whispered so only his twin could hear him.

“Somebody kill me.”

April

“Why is Barbie here? The herring said it's only 'bout those involved in this crap,” Mike complained and stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth.

“Who are you calling 'Barbie', ya insane jerk?!” Tyler flared up and jumped from his chair, but Sydney put a hand on the Scout's shoulder, earning himself a disapproving glare from Jean.

“Please, Ty, darling. No fighting. He doesn't mean it.”

“Ya can be sure, faggot, that I so mean it!” Mike spat, but Sydney ignored him and spoke on.

“I suggested this meeting as there are some things to say about, well, certain surprising developments.” With a wide smile, Sydney leaned back in his chair and folded his hands above his stomach.

“Therefore it is, of course, necessary that everyone involved is present. This includes, beside you, Mike-darling, and myself of course, Martin, as our doctor. Jean has to be here, too, well, you know why.” He shrugged and smiled apologetically at the twins.

Jean, who stood right behind the two young men, snorted, and patted each the twins with one of his tentacles on their shoulders. A reminder that they shouldn't even think of doing something stupid just because they were only held by handcuffs and shackles today.

“Well, separating you and your brother is impossible, so he's here, too. As for the others...” he continued, but was interrupted by Tyler.

“Dammit, Mike, could ya stop eating for just one fucking minute?” the Scout napped at the twin. “Put the bloody chips away!”

“Fuck off, bitch, I'm hungry.” His mouth still half full, he stuck his tongue out at Tyler.

“We just had breakfast, man!”

“So what? Ha, I got it! Ya jealous, 'cause the herring's touching me right now, instead of fucking ya precious ass!” Mike grinned, put the bag of chips on the table and stroke slowly over the tentacle that was still lying on his shoulder.

“Mhmm, so nice and slippery, just the way ya like it up ya fat butt, right? Ouch! Damn ya!” he cried out when the same tentacle was suddenly wrapped around his throat.

“Jean, my friend, I beg you,” Sydney sighed. Gathering everybody around one table was always so trying. “Be a bit considerate - our dear Mike isn't having an easy time and... uh, Mike, what flavor?” The Sniper's eyes rested on the bag of chips.

“Salt 'n vinegar. Hey, those are mine!” Mike protested when Sydney bent over the table.

“Come on, be a darling, honey. I love those!” With sheer delight, the Sniper put a hand into the bag.

“No, you don't, you hated chips until this very moment.” Jo, sitting next to her brother, snatched the bag away from Sydney and threw it carelessly behind her.

“Seriously, Sonny, you are worse than I was with Toby. Anyway, guys, what our dear Mr. Leader here wanted to say:

Two of you idiotic men somehow defied nature by getting pregnant, and every single one of us would rather die than missing any ridiculous detail about this. Please continue,” she finished generously, her frown telling Sydney he better came to the point before she lost her patience.

“Thanks, honey. So, Mike, this should be of interest for you. It was because of the cookies and Lukas is the father.” He smiled at his assistant whose face-color changed from pale eto a deep crimson.

“Wha... what?! Cookies, what cookies?! Lukas? What the fuck.. WHAT?!”

“Sonny, I have to agree with Mike. Thanks for not beating around the bush for once, but could you please at least try to make some fucking sense?” Jo shook her head while the other team-members stared at Lukas and Sydney in confusion. Matthew, who sat next to her, patted her on the back.

“Chill, lady, everything is fine. Let me help the dude out here.” He chuckled as he spoke on.

“I got a, uh, special ingredient from a good friend for Christmas, and made some of my special spaceflight cinnamon cookies... they, well, don't go well with everyone's digestive system, so to speak, because of the... side-effects. Man, next time, ask me before you eat my stuff, will you?” Wagging his finger, he winked at Sydney.

“We will talk about your special collection of recipes later, Matthew. However, Lukas, do you want to tell the rest of the story?” Sydney turned to his assistant and gave him an encouraging smile. Lukas shook his head frenetically.

“No need to be shy, darling. Oh, Jean, please be careful not to suffocate Mike. See, his face is already dark red.”

“I know what I am doing. Continue, mon ami, we do not have all day.” Jean rolled his eyes. But he also loosened the tentacle he had wrapped around Mike's head to prevent the now silently raging twin from interrupting Sydney's and Matthew's explanations.

“Well, to make a long story short – Lukas remembered first and told me, and as I heard his story, I remembered. Everyone probably remembers our lovely party on New Year's Eve. Well... The twins, I and Lukas were the last ones awake, and we kind of got hungry, and then we found those cookies...”

“Which means you were so drunk that you somehow got into Matthew's room, searched it for food, found the box, stole it and ate the content in harmony under the Christmas tree and party streamers?!”

“I would have used another choice of words, but yes, Jo, you are right, that's basically it.” Sydney nodded. “Well, obviously, some of the side-effects happened, and, hm, let me put it this way: Lukas, Mike and I shared some private time.”

“Whoa, wait a second! Ya ain't sayin' that dumb wimp had the nerve to fuck me?!” Mike had taken advantage of Jean's surprise – the grip of the tentacle had lost its strength and Mike could shove it down far enough to free his mouth.

“Be nice, honey. Don't you remember? I did, after Lukas told me. And from what I recall, it was a really lovely way to start the new year.” Dreamily, he smiled at Lukas, who kept staring at the table.

“Fuck, that... that's... sick! Ya goddamned motherfuckin' faggots!” Suddenly, his angry, confused expression changed to realization and hope, and he laughed hysterically.

“HA! Ya almost got me! Tell ya what, fuckers! Fuck ya bullshit, it's a lie, there's no way Gabe would have let this idiot... uh, Gabe?” He stopped laughing the moment he looked at his twin. Scowling angrily at Mike, Gabe shook his head.

“Gabriel?” Sydney raised his eyebrows. “Did you... know? I thought you were asleep.”

The younger twin, however, had already changed back to his indifferent self, his eyes and expression void of all human feelings.

“Don't bother,” Martin said, speaking for the first time since the meeting had started, when Sydney and Mike both kept persuading the younger twin to tell them more. “When he is like that, nothing and nobody can make him talk. Anyway, let me take over from here.

I won't bother you with the medical terms, and how unusual the results of the little, carnal get-together of the three gentlemen here are. Fact is, the drugs Matthew had added to his cookies not only affected the behavior. I know it's hard to believe. I have to admit, I have a hard time believing it myself. But the facts remain the same: we have two pregnant men, and the father of the unborn is Lukas,” the Medic concluded.

After Martin's lengthy explanation, it was not possible to return to a normal conversation. Everyone of the team-members – except Gabe – had to say something about the matter.

Sydney took the commotion with his usual cheerful countenance. He found the jokes of his team-mates about his state of a soon-to-be mom hilarious, or those about the remarkable, literal 'penetration power' of Lukas' body fluids.

The young Spy, however, didn't find any of this funny at all and his answers were short and nervous. He couldn't await the end of the meeting.

“Hey, why didn't ya tell me anything, ya traitor? What's wrong with ya lately?” Mike hissed at his twin while the Tentaspy shoved both of them out of the room. Sydney finally had decided it was enough for today.

“Maybe your baby brother is sick of ya behaving like a whore,” Tyler suggested sweetly. “Maybe he wants a divorce, so your bastard's uncle isn't also his step-daddy,” the Scout added, letting the usual spite return to his voice.

“I swear to God, asshole, one day, I'll kill and fuck ya so hard that ya won't... stop that, fucking jerk-fish!” Mike yelled when one of Jean's tentacle hit him hard on the back of his head.

“Yuck! Incest!” Tyler sneered in exaggerated disgust.

“Uuuh, yucky! Sofilelist!” Mike retorted.

“Zoophilist.”

“Thank ya so fucking much, Gabe, what would I do without ya.” Tired of all of this, all what Mike wanted, were his bed and another bag of chips.

May

“Careful, fucker, or I'll tell the pink fag ya tried to kill my baby,” Mike exclaimed in pretended indignation when he was rudely shoved into their room.

Jean only shrugged, closed the security doors of the twins' quarters and left. Mike growled after him, one hand on his now visibly rounded belly. Giving a last snort, he turned away from the door and walked over to Gabe's bed. Impatiently, he kicked against the frame.

“Hellooo, dumbass. I'm back. Lemme guess – ya haven't even noticed I was gone, right? Ya know, I've just got the most humiliating hour of my life behind me, thanks to that sick doctor. Ya could at least pretend ya care.”

His twin didn't react. Unimpressed, he continued reading, his back turned to his brother.

“Whatever. Is there some food left?”

He grinned happily when he found an untouched slice of bread with cheese and a small, to his surprise still full bowl with chocolate pudding on Gabe's tray. Perfect, just the kind of combination he was after. If they also gave him some beer, the meal would have been even more perfect.

A frown appeared on his face.

“Assholes.”

He had thought they were kidding when they told him that he wasn't allowed any alcohol until this was over. Unfortunately, like several other times the last months, he had to realize that the more ridiculous the news were, the less high were the odds they were joking.

“Hope ya weren't saving that for later.” Not waiting for an answer he didn't expect to come anyway, he spread the content of the bowl on the bread and cheese.

“Ya know, ya really making me sick. Which pisses me off, 'cause I'm already fuckin' sick every fuckin' morning,” Mike complained, calmly though, with his mouth full. He sat down on his bed, watching his brother's unmoved face.

“Do I have to beat ya up and rape ya ass so ya'll talk to me again? What in fuck's name is ya problem? Ya have hardly been talking to me since New Year's Eve. And ya haven't said anything at all since that bloody meeting.” He finished the rest of his improvised sandwich with one last, large bite and wiped his hands on his blanket.

“Gabe! Gaaabe! I'm talking to ya! Dammit, man, what's ya problem?”

“He said you are cute.”

“Eh... what?” Mike had tried in vain to make Gabe talk to him so often lately, that receiving an answer alone caught him completely off guard. The answer itself was even more confusing.

“He said you are cute,” Gabe repeated with exactly the same, casual tone of his voice as before. He was still reading.

“Who?”

“That Sniper.”

Mike gave a snort.

“Bullshit.”

“The incompetent Spy agreed. While he fucked you.” With the book in his hands, Gabe turned around, so Mike faced his back again.

“Whoa, wait, man! Are ya kidding me... forget it, of course ya ain't.” Mike sighed exasperatedly; Gabe had his own, skewed sense humor, but fooling him by lying and making up stories was not his way.

However, like many times before, he was glad he couldn't recall what had happened that night. The by now definitely undeniable result was horrible enough, having those stupid idiots involved didn't make it any better. He could gladly live on without the details.

“And why, just out of curiosity, my dear brother... WHY THE FUCK ARE YA ANGRY WITH ME ABOUT THAT SHIT?! Damn you, I was HIGH! They RAPED me!” he shouted irately.

“He fucked you slowly, and they called you cute, and you smiled and the Sniper kissed you, and you kept on smiling. Rape is different,” Gabe explained, still sounding indifferent and calm. Mike knew better. The way his twin's shoulders were tensed up, the way he turned the pages of his book – Gabe was mad as hell at him. Mike just didn't really understand why.

“I don't get it, man. Ya've watched me fucking others millions of time. A few times, others fucked me. And I fuckin' enjoyed it. Ya never had a problem with that. Hell, often enough, it got ya horny. In a way,” he added. In that regard, Gabe was different from others, too. Who was he kidding - Gabe had his own way of seeing and feeling things in most regards.

Mike stood up and stretched. For a few days now, along with his growing belly, his back had began to hurt.

His shoulders hurt as well; he had slept in a weird position this night. But he swore to God, Satan, or whoever was in charge – if Sydney tried a second time to give him a massage – with this disgustingly smelling massage oil – he'd break the Sniper's skull.

He walked around the beds and, once he stood in front of Gabe, bent over him and snatched the book away from his brother. He tossed it across the room. It crashed against the wall and fell to the floor.

Finally, Gabe showed an reaction.

He leaped his bed. Giving his brother a forceful push, he sent Mike to the floor as well. A punch hit Mike’s face hard.

“Fuck ya!” Mike cried out, holding his hand in front of his bleeding nose. Before he could fight back, his twin had already let go of him. Gabe picked up his book and sat down on his bed, watching his brother closely.

“Are you hurt?”

“Ya fucker, my nose is bleeding!”

“Will you hit it?”

“Why the fuck should I hit my nose? Are you retarded?” Scowling at his brother, Mike stood up and searched their desk for something he could use to wipe off the blood. The scarf he found belonged to Gabe – the better! But, of course, Gabe didn't care.

“Your child,” the younger twin said calmly when Mike was focusing on him again.

“You know. Like... others did... other children... back then.”

A shadow seemed to darken Mike's face.

“How dare you?” Glowering, his voice low, almost a whisper, he walked up to Gabe. “How dare you! I'm NOT like him! I TOLD you, I'm NOT LIKE HIM!” he finally shouted.

He seized Gabe by his throat, wrapping his fingers around it. Fiercely, he began to shake him, the pressure of his grip becoming stronger until his twin choked and coughed. However, Gabe remained silent while his brother yelled at him. He didn't even try to fight.

“NEVER say that again! NEVER! ASSHOLE! YA FUCKIN' ASSHOLE!”

When his brother's eyes began to roll up, he let finally go of him.

“Don't say that again. Don't!” Mike repeated, panting heavily, while Gabe kept on coughing, trying to recover his breath.

“I don't know why I smiled. I don't remember anything. No idea what was in my head. Not those losers, Gabe, certainly not them!” the older twin rambled on, and his brother listened, more and more alerted.

“You... you are crying!” Gabe finally burst out in bewilderment, almost scared at the sight.

“Dumbass, I NEVER cry!” Mike shouted at him, using the scarf again, this time, to wipe his entire face. “I'm a goddamned man, they fuckin' fear me! I slaughtered more motherfuckers than all of them together! I'M NOT CRYING!”

“You are not.” With that, Gabe picked up his book once more and ignored his brother completely. He also didn't react when Mike threw the bloody and wet scarf at him.

“I hate chocolate pudding,” Gabe said once Mike had curled up on his bed.

“Good for you, because I'll eat yours next time, too, either way.”

June

“DON'T POKE ME!”

Disgruntled, Mike lunged out at his twin, but Gabe was quicker. He rolled away from Mike and jumped out of the bed. Mike wanted to go after him, but had trouble to move as swiftly as his brother.

“If I see another bruise from ya ugly finger on this I'll bite ya hand off!” Mike hissed, pointing at his round belly. For now, he decided Gabe was too childish to be worth dealing with, so he stopped struggling against his own body and let himself fall back onto the mattress.

“Mike?” came a curious voice from the other side of the room. The older twin imagined how his brother sat on the desk, watching him carefully, as he often did lately.

“What?”

“Training without you is boring. I want to kill you.”

“How old are ya? Five? Stop whining like a baby. Do ya think I don't miss punching ya stupid face? Don't think it's fun, standing there and watching ya work out with the freaky fish-nanny at my neck!”

“Okay. Mike?”

“What now?”

“How did you do that? Men can't have children.”

Mike turned his head, facing his brother. He had been right – Gabe was sitting on the desk, the elbows on his upper legs and his chin in his hands, and was looking at him. The older twin shrugged.

“Obviously, they can. Stupid question,” he brushed it off.

“Only men and women can have children, not a man with a man,” Gabe continued, annoying Mike with what the older brother called a patronizing tone.

“Bullshit,” he snapped stubbornly. “Women get knocked up when fucking. We fuck all the time. Those assholes... ya know - I got fucked and now this.” Again, he pointed at his belly. It had grown a lot during the last weeks, and his back was bothering him more and more. It also had become more difficult to find a comfortable position when he wanted to sleep.

“That's not logical.”

“Shut up, it's logical as fuck, get it into ya thick head, fuck nut!” Mike growled and grimaced at his brother.

“I'll poke you when you sleep.”

“Asshole.”

*

A few rooms further, Sydney chuckled.

“Sometimes, it's difficult to believe that those precious, immature kids are cold-blooded serial killers in their 20s.” Smiling sadly, he took a sip of his tea.

“Michael's logic is difficult to argue, isn't it?” Martin said, glancing at the monitor Sydney had set his eyes on over the last 20 minutes. The twins were again arguing, but not in a hostile way. Decisively, he switched it off, and with a quick movement, he pulled the headphones from Sydney's head.

“Ouch, darling, be careful! My hair... Why would you stop monitoring them?”

“You know that the cameras are still on and that everything is recorded, just in case. Respect their privacy. How is your back?” the Medic inquired. Sydney stretched carefully, almost upsetting the teacup he still held in his hand.

“Better, thanks to the magic lotion you gave me. Too bad that Mike here refused to let me share it.” He chuckled again. “Anyway, Martin, it's not your first lecture, about me not invading their personal space too much. Honey, admit it, you kinda like them, too!”

“Or I'm just lacking your habit of being curious to the disturbing point of being voyeuristic,” Martin replied coldly. “Now, please finish your tea, I have to maintain the zombie.”

“How is precious Will doing anyway?” Sydney asked and got up from the Medic's comfortable leather chair – slowly, shielding his round belly carefully, preventing from bumping with it against the desk.

“Fine, as usual. He only needs his regular dose of liquids, that's all.”

“Hey, Doc, O'Conner sends me. Gimme some aspirin. 'The working stuff', he said.”

Sydney and Martin gave a start when the door was suddenly thrown open and Tyler barged into the room.

“O'Conner? Did he drink too much last night again?” the Medic asked, narrowing his eyes disapprovingly. But he opened one of the cabinets and, with even looking, selected a small bottle containing several white pills. He removed two of them and put them into Tyler's opened hand.

“Here, and tell him to drink them with water, not whiskey or rum,” he advised the Scout sternly.

“Will do. Damn, Syd, ya looking like ya've swallowed a pink watermelon.” Tyler's mouth twitched, his expression a mix of amusement and bewildered revulsion. He still hadn't gotten used to it – the sight and the idea of two guys carrying a child in their... yes, in their what?

“Say,” he began hesitantly when Sydney only laughed at his remark, “I don't wanna be, uh, impolite, or hear too many details... but how the fuck does it work? Where does it... grow?! It's not like you have, uh... like a woman. You know what I mean! Seriously, I don't get it.” He shook his head in confusion.

“Wait, Sydney!” The Medic raised a hand, gesturing the Sniper to remain silent for now.

“Tyler,” he turned to the Scout. “Remember the last time we had a little talk? About anatomy?”

“What do ya mean?” The young man moved back, suddenly feeling uncomfortably when the Medic stared directly into his eyes.

“Ah! Yeah, that talk!” Sydney snorted in amusement.

“Sydney, please. Tyler, remember! When things were getting serious with the Tentaspy...”

“Yes, and you were all nervous for a few days, you know, when I saw you two kissing... accidentally, of course - I was not spying on you!” Sydney insisted, giving another laugh as Tyler's cheeks suddenly blushed.

“Sydney and I decided it was time to give you the talk.”

“I got it, guys, uh, O'Conner is waiting. I better...” Smiling nervously, Tyler backed away from the two men, moving towards the door. Sydney, however, put an arm around the young man's shoulder, proudly patting his own, new and voluminous curves.

“It was in your own interest, sweetie. To know how Jean, a full-grown man and Tentaspy, works. All this anatomical stuff, like, how does a Tenta have sex, his reproductive organs, where is his dick anyway, what does a Tenta like... or like to do...”

“And of course, contraception is always important. Even if it's not very likely, after modifying his genes to the extreme, there is always a small chance of impregnating him. Or you risk to look,” Martin continued, pointing at the Scout's flat abdomen, that was conveniently revealed by a short top.

“...Like Sydney here,” the Medic added. “Only with a dozen of eggs, instead of one baby.”

“Stop it, motherfucker, just stop!” Tyler became paler with every word, looking miserable.

“Anyway,” Sydney took over, chuckling. “It had confused you so much - especially when Martin showed you a few anatomical drawings - you almost threw up. You didn't speak with Jean for five days! The poor baby, he never knew what was wrong.” By now, the Sniper had a hard time to suppress a laughing fit.

“Seriously, go and fuck a porcupine!” Tyler snarled at them, pushing them away. “Remind me to never ask you something again!” Angrily, he went out and slammed the door shut.

Finally, Sydney could release his laughter. Holding his belly, he bellowed with laughter for a few minutes, wiping several tears from his face with his other hand.

“This won't harm the baby, will it?” he asked Martin after he had calmed down again.

“Laughing? Not at all. It's said that a happy expectant mother has a good influence of the newborn's mental health. Well, I assume that also applies for a happy expectant father,” Martin reassured him.

“Good. Well, I'll leave you now. Tell Will I said 'hello', yes? Oh, and Martin?” Sydney turned around again after he had almost walked through the door.

“I don't remember the last part. Is it true? Is there a chance of Jean or Tyler – or even both – getting pregnant when they have some fun?”

“Of course not! Do you really think I wouldn't have taken a more keen interest in their relationship if that was the case?” Martin snorted, shaking his head when Sydney laughed again.

“Good. But why making up such a story? Honey, are you a prankster after all?”

“No. I just hate it when people dash into my room without knocking. Or when they don't leave when I'm busy. Off with you! And no slacking off with the antenatal exercises!”

July

“Here's the ventilator you've asked for. Dammit, Sonny, don't you think, too, you are overdoing it just a liiiittle bit?!”

“Not all at, sweetie! Please, be a dear and plug it in, will you? I'm so busy right now.” Sydney smiled widely at his sister and bent eagerly over the paperwork in front of them.

“Busy, my ass. Just admit finally that it is not as easy to move as you thought it would be!” Jo grumbled, searching the room for free socket.

“Honestly... I know it's summer and freakin' hot, but four ventilators? Damn, it's actually chilly in here!”

“No idea what you are talking about, love. I'm as flexible as any boy in his 20s. Ah, thank you! Now, the temperature is lovely!” With a grateful grin, Sydney leaned back in his chair and wiped a thin layer of sweat from his forehead. He fanned his face and his impressively large, round stomach with a slim file folder he had picked up from his desk.

“Only that you are not in your 20s, but 30s, and looking like you've swallowed two bowling balls.” Jo chuckled. “By the way, a certain, seven years old soon-to-be cousin asked me some questions that are not easy to explain. I told him to ask his uncle. I promise you, I'll so be there when he comes to see you later.”

Sydney wasn't concerned at all. He laughed and adjusted the level of one of the ventilators standing on his table.

“Better,” he commented when the air draft was strong enough to move his hair. The sound, too, increased, and he had to raise his voice.

“I don't mind at all. Toby is a clever kid, the cutie will understand.”

“Pah,” Jo snorted, “then he'll be the first of us who really understands. It's still crazy.” She shrugged. “But that's how things usually are once you are involved. Damn, why don't you just go belly-free when it's too warm for you? Like Ty? Or Mike, “she added with a grin.

“And waste the opportunity to wear those lovely clothes?” Delighted, he looked at the fabric that covered his rounded abdomen tightly. It was pink of course, and white lines created a leopard pattern.

“It's sooo difficult to find appropriate clothes for my condition in my size. It's custom made. Have you seen the other shirts? The one in fuchsia, with the...”

“Don't care! Sorry, I can imagine less weird things than discussing the maternity fashion of my pregnant brother. Which sounds more absurd with every time I say it! See you at dinner!” she brushed him off rudely, knowing this was her only chance to escape a passionate speech about Sydney's wardrobe and the fifty shades of pink it was colored.

“Tsk, dear, you don't know what you are missing,” Sydney laughed. “But don't worry, next time you need them, I'll happily pass them on!” he called after her when she left his office. For a moment, he closed his eyes, enjoying the refreshing blow. It was a really hot today, and he wondered if Jo's advice about showing some skin wasn't maybe so bad. On the other hand, the shirt was just too adorable to be not shown in its full beauty. Maybe he should just ask for a fifth ventilator.

The telephone rang.

Without opening his eyes, he felt for the receiver.

“Central of heat and passion, how can I brighten your day? Ah, Martin! What is... On my way!”

Quickly, he put the receiver down.

He tried in vain to push himself out of the chair two times. Flinching, he picked up the receiver again and dialed two numbers.

“Lukas? Honey, please, I need your help, quickly!”

*

“Fuck, no! Keep those idiots away from me!” Mike groaned in despair when Sydney and Lukas arrived at the Medic's office.

“Mike, sweetie, are you all right?” Sydney was genuinely worried. The twin's face was too pale, the eyes too wide, and sweat was running down his temples. Even now, as he lay stretched out on the Medic's couch, the Sniper saw how Mike's hands trembled.

“I was fucking fine before you bastards did THAT to me!” he growled, putting his hands on his large, bare belly. He had refused loudly and violently when Sydney tried to convince him to exchange his usual, black shirts for longer, wider ones. For a while now, Mike’s clothes had simply been too short to cover more than half of his torso.

“Martin?” Lukas turned quietly to the Medic. Silently, Martin was standing next to the twin. He had just finished inserting the needle and adjusting the tube leading to an IV bag. At Lukas' question, he raised his head.

“He is indeed not fine, but not in danger. Yet. A commotion coming from their room caught my attention, and when I checked the monitor, he had already collapsed.”

“The heat?” Sydney inquired sympathetically. Although he didn't show it, Mike's condition alarmed him. Usually, neither of the twins would lie still when somebody approached them with a needle.

“No, the temperature in their quarters is agreeable. Anyway,” he continued, choosing to ignore Sydney's mumbled “Agreeable for you, maybe.”.

“There's another problem. This had to happen sooner or later. The child is growing rapidly, and as men, your bodies are simply not built for this. Your babies don't have enough room, so they push against your organs with far more pressure than it would inside of a woman.”

“Ya saying the brat is killing me from inside, crushing my guts?” Mike suddenly grinned. “Wicked. I kinda start to like the bastard.”

“Oh, come on, darling. Of course you already love the little wonder, how couldn't you?”

“Piss off, fag, or I'll crush ya from the outside!” Mike hissed when Sydney put a hand on the twin's stomach. He sat up, to enforce his threat, groaned, and lay down again.

“Calm down, Mike,” the Medic commanded. “And you, Sydney, give him a break. His low blood pressure had worried me for a while, but what really made him collapse was pain. I have no idea how long he has endured it until his body couldn't take it anymore. Sydney, I need you to be honest. Any strong pains?”

Sydney looked again at the pale twin. He couldn't remember when he had seen Mike's face distorted with pain the last time, or if at all. Slowly, he nodded.

“I have to admit, my left kidney and my stomach trouble me a bit. Although not that much that I thought it was of importance.”

“I see.” Martin nodded. “Listen closely, this is not an advice, but my order. Do not move around more than necessary! If you feel uncomfortable pressure against any of your organs, shift your body. If it doesn't get better, call me at once. Sydney, no walking around, no running, jumping, hopping, dancing. I'd confine you to your bed, but knowing you... but please, don't overdo it. Try to sit or lie in one place as long as possible. Well, Mike...” Sighing, he looked at the twin.

“If I keep you here, your brother will probably snap.”

“I warn ya, asshole, if that fucking squid lays only one of his stinkin' tentacles on him, I'll...”

“Please, Mike, being upset is not good for you at all,” Martin said calmly. “I have my hands full with you and Sydney and your babies. Your twin, hurt by Jean or himself, is the last thing I want to deal with. Sydney, I know, as our boss you have the final say in this, but I strongly advice to return Mike to their room as soon as possible. The stress of separating them is neither good for Gabriel, nor Michael, nor the child.”

“Of course, dear. I trust your judgment completely,” Sydney assured him. “Where is Gabe now?”

“In their room. Jean is with him.”

“Good. I'll go back to my office and give Lukas the necessary instructions to take over. Is that okay, honey?” he asked and smiled when Lukas nodded.

“Do that. Lukas, I leave it to your responsibility to see that Sydney does as I told him. If you think something is wrong, call me, no matter what he says. Fine. That's it, you can go now.” With a critical frown, he felt for the pulse of the unusual tame twin.

“Could be better, but if you can stand, I'll take you back to your brother.”

“Of course I can stand, do I look like an idiot? Let me go at once, or I’ll shove the fucking needle into your eye. And I fucking swear, if I don’t get my sandwich soon, ya all are gonna regret it!” “Oh, good, you are definitely better.”

August

Restlessly, Gabe's eyes wandered over the desk. He picked up the pencils and arranged them neatly, in exact the same order as before. Next, he continued with the books, this time, sorting them by the number of their pages.

“Ya pissin' me off, man!” Mike called from his bed when his twin turned away from the desk and began to pace through the room.

“Gabe, come over here!” He grinned when his brother followed his order at once. He liked it when Gabe was stubborn and reluctant, but from time to time, obedient was very nice, too.

Once Gabe was close enough, Mike took hold of his brother's wrist and pulled him down, close enough to grab his hair.

“Fuck me!” he growled lowly, but Gabe's obedience ended here.

Abruptly, he turned away from his twin, not caring when Mike accidentally pulled out some of his hair.

“Come ooon, man! I'm horny!” Mike grimaced towards the ceiling, drumming on the mattress with his fists in frustration.

Gabe ignored him and focused on the desk again.

“Unfair bastard. If I could, I'd just stand up and take ya!”

“It could kill you,” his twin stated, not even looking at him.

“Best way to die ever.” Mike grinned widely. “For a genius you are dumb, man. What's that fuckin' respawn thing good for if we don't make use of it? Ya usually don't mind killing me, ya remember?”

“They said you must not die now. It's not safe. After the birth, you can again.”

“Fuck you! Since when do we care about their bullshit?” Mike reached for his brother's pillow and threw it roughly in his direction. As he didn't lift his head, his aim was way off. Without a word, Gabe picked the pillow up and put it back on his bed, careful that its edges were parallel to the edges of the mattress.

“Fuck! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Gabe! GABE!”

Gabe frowned.

“Pain?”

“No, man! The bastard is kicking me! Again! Ey, ya coward! Come out there and fight like a man!”

With crossed legs, Gabe sat down on his bed, watching his brother who continued cursing the unborn child. Slowly, he reached out his hand, laying it hesitantly on Mike's large stomach.

“Damn, ya fingers are cold as dead shit,” Mike scoffed, trying not to show how much he enjoyed the touch.

Gabe twitched back when he felt a sudden movement under Mike's abdominal wall, but Mike held his twin's hand in place.

“Don't be a bitch, Gabe. Gimme at least a blow job!” he demanded.

“Jerk off yourself,” Gabe refused, trying to pull away from his brother's grip.

“Smartass, that fuckin' thing is in my way! Can hardly reach my own damn dick! Do you have any fuckin' idea how much I'm sufferin' here?”

Lately, Mike's behavior irritated the younger twin. Whiny and pitiful, that was not typical for his brother, and he wasn't sure if he liked to see him like that. Pathetic and... helpless.

A faint, sadistic smile appeared on his face. With one vigorous jerk, broke free from Mike's hand.

“Suck me off,” he said coldly, raising to his knees.

“Fuck ya, asshole! Piss off, count your books or pencils or go and die!”

“You can't fight back, you know that.” Now, Gabe definitely grinned, one hand opening his belt, the other grabbing Mike's hair. The older twin raised his eyebrows. Then he grinned, too.

“Ya know, sometimes I hate you a little bit less.”

*

“Thanks, dear, I really appreciate how caring you are.” Gratefully, he smiled at his sister who had stuffed another cushion behind his back.

“Whatever. You are getting pesky, dear brother. That was the fifth time today you called for me to get you this shit, get you that shit. I've other things to do than babysitting you!” Jo crossed her arms and shot a disapproving look at her brother, who lay comfortably on the couch in his office snuggled happily against the pile of cushions.

Sydney, however, didn't take her complaint to heart. He had taken up his knitting again, humming to himself.

“Oh, wait!” he interrupted himself. “Jo, darling, I wanted to make a pair of baby socks for Mike. I need black wool, would you...”

“NO!”

“But, Jo...!”

But she had already left, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Do not even think of it, Sydney,” Jean warned him with a growl when Sydney turned to him with a pleading smile.

“My, give a poor, suffering soul the chance to be a bit useful, won't you?” Sydney sighed and continued knitting, his high spirit dampened.

“By making everyone else less useful, because we have to play errand boys for you, is not effective,” the Tentaspy remarked dryly.

“Well, if you let Tyler assist me...”

“Non!” Jean frowned, the ends of his tentacles twitching irritatedly. “He is already busy enough without waiting on you and your whims.”

“Alright, alright, darling. I'll make pink ones for Mike, too.” Sydney sighed again, eying the progress of his needlework with a satisfied nod. “He will probably not care much about the color anyway, right?”

The Tentaspy said nothing. Sometimes, he wondered if Sydney really believed that the twins would really care about anything the Sniper did for them, let alone appreciating it, or even be grateful.

“Anyway, Jean, dear,” Sydney continued, “how are they coping? Martin already confirmed that Mike's health is fine so far, given the circumstances. But how are they taking it in general these days? Oh, Lukas, you are an angel!” he greeted his assistant when Lukas pushed the door open with his back. In one hand, he held a selection of magazines – fashion, if Jean wasn't mistaken – and with the other, a tray with two cups and a tea pot.

Watching Lukas balancing the tray, closing the door behind him while he keenly listened to the torrent of joyful exclamations from Sydney was too amusing. Jean chuckled. He had still enough time to help in case Lukas dropped something.

“Well,” he began when the Sniper had finally stopped talking, a cup of steaming, hot herbal tee in his hands. “Considering that the twins are apparently the only ones you haven't enslaved, they are doing quite well. Mike is surprisingly calm.”

“I see. He must really be in pain, if he follows Martin's order so willingly,” Sydney said. “How about Gabe?”

Jean shrugged, accepting the cup of tea Lukas offered him with a gracious nod.

“The boy is restless,” he stated between two sips. “He already was when he had to work out without his brother. It's not like he is very aggressive, not yet.” Jean paused a moment, thinking of how to explain his observations.

“He's like a caged animal. I'm certain it would be worse if we separated them for longer than maybe half an hour. However, when he's awake, he cannot sit or stand still. He paces through the room, cleans up their belongings, puts things in perfect order...”

“So he's acting compulsively again. Poor boy, so nervous and bored...”

“Pah! Poor, schmoor!” Jean sneered in disgust. “If you asked me, I'd give order to sedate both of them strongly enough so they'd sleep the rest of the year!”

“Jean, be a bit more understanding. Mike had suffered more during the last months than I did. He never stopped being sick, he's practically immobile because of pain. And poor Gabe, he can't do anyhing to help his dear brother.”

“Pah!” Jean scoffed again. He hadn't been speaking about this ridiculous pregnancy; as far as he was concerned, he wouldn't complain if Martin injected enough drugs into their bloodstream to make them as harmless and useless as Will, the Zombie. Forever. As he knew how Sydney thought about that, he kept his opinion to himself.

“Anyway,” the Tentaspy changed the topic. “If this is all, I'll take my leave for now. I am needed elsewhere.”

“Ah, is it already time for Ty to return from his errand? Good. See you later, honey!” He waved after the Jean with one knitting needle. Once he had finished his tea, he had taken up the half-finished sock again.

“Lukas, love, are you busy?” he asked and glanced at his assistant out of the corner of his eye, smiling slyly.

“N...no. Is there something you need, boss?” Lukas looked up from the report he was writing on.

“When your son, or daughter, is finally here, I hope you won't keep calling me boss in his – or her – presence,” Sydney chuckled. “But yes, now that you mention it, there is something I need, indeed!”

With the end of the knitting needle, he pointed at his wiggling feet.

“They've been pins and needles all day, as if they were about to go numb any moment. Do you think, only maybe, if you are not too busy, you could give me a little massage?” He gave him a bright, delighted smile. “I'd ask one of the others, but your hands feel just too wonderful!” he added, but Lukas had already jumped up from his chair and taken place at the end of Sydney's couch.

September

The nights of the remaining weeks of summer weren't as hot as they had been a month ago anymore. Sleeping had become much easier.

Sydney, however, lay awake. Two ventilators were running in his bedroom, and their sound as well as his aching body hadn't let him sleep properly for a while now. Light hurt his eyes, so he blinked into the darkness. Lying on his back, he waited until exhaustion would finally be stronger than the droning sound in his ears and the hurting of his bones and muscles. Lately, he also found it difficult to breathe if he lay or sat or stood too long in the same position.

The growing life inside of him reminded him every second of every day of its existence. Random, uncontrollable kicks, as light as they might have been, against his inner organs increased the feeling of discomfort.

After another hour, Sydney gave up. Slowly, very slowly, so that the weight of the child didn't accidentally crush his kidneys or pinched off the aorta again – he remembered the life-threatening incident from a few days ago with a shudder – he stood up.

Still feeling drowsy, he dialed a number on his room telephone. He had to wait a moment until his call was finally answered.

“Martin? I'm sorry I woke you up.”

The Medic's voice at the other end sounded as tired as he felt.

“Yes, I think you were right yesterday,” Sydney answered Martin's question. “It's getting really dangerous.”

*

“Gabriel, I want to help your brother!” The Medic rubbed his temples, feeling a headache approaching. “Why is that so difficult to understand for you?”

“Because ya are an asshole. All doctors are. Everyone of this fucked up fag-club here is!” Mike hissed, flinching when the doctor inspected his swollen abdomen carefully.

“You shouldn't encourage these ideas, Michael,” Martin scolded him irritatedly. “After all, without this 'fag-club' – you and your brother are members of it, by the way – your fate would have been quite different. You should be grateful.” The Medic was still tired, a circumstance that always robbed him of what little humor and understanding he had for others.

“Grateful, my ass! Ya piss-heads have turned me into a freak! Like that thing!” Mike turned his head towards Jean and flinched. The abrupt movement made him feel dizzy.

As usual, the Tentaspy didn't heed Mike's insults any attention. His job was to keep the struggling twin of the rude patient under control, caring about anything Mike did or said he considered to be below his standards.

“Unfortunately, I cannot pride myself making him. Alright. Lukas, help me, please!”

“Oh no, the wimp's here, too? Fucking beautiful,” the older twin groaned when the pale, quiet Spy stepped into his field of vision. “Fuck off, assholes! Don't ya dare to touch me!” he shouted when Martin and Lukas seized him by his arms and carefully lifted them up.

“Fuck, I think I'm gonna...” Mike's world was spinning. He had spent the last weeks mostly lying on his bed, suddenly standing – or rather, hanging – in an upright position between the other two men didn't agree well with his low blood pressure.

“Don't collapse now,” Martin warned him. “Do you feel sick? Are you going to throw up?”

“If I do, ya'll be the first to feel it, ya can be sure of that, fucker!”

“I'm sure of that indeed. Anyway, you can lie down again in a minute. I'll remove the baby now.”

“What? What does that mean?” In genuine surprise, Mike forgot to swear.

“Well, I'll give you a local anesthesia, and remove the child from your body. A safe, surgical procedure, it's called a C-section,” the Medic explained when Mike was still confused.

“Just a fuckin' minute, ya think I'm gonna let ya cut me open?” Mike gave an angry laugh, and started to struggle against the grips that held him. “Fuck, no!”

But Lukas and Martin had expected him to try and get away sooner or later. Fortunately, the pregnancy had weakened the twin - he was a lot easier to handle than he would have been under normal circumstances.

“Mike. Mike! Michael! God, do I have to slap you?” The Medic was getting more and more impatient with the panicking twin. But Mike's efforts to fight the two men already lessened. Martin wasn't sure if the child in the young man's body was causing him too much pain again, or if Mike calmed down because Gabe – still secured by Jean's tentacles – was following along with the Tentaspy.

“Mike, of course I have to make a cut. Please, humor me – what do you think? How else do you, as a man, want to deliver a baby that weights more than six pounds?”

“Eh...”

“Thought so. Well then, let's go.”

*

“GABE! FUCK! Do something! THEY ARE KILLING ME!”

“Mike, calm down. Please, calm down! I try what I can to save you!”

“Mike, darling, please, we'll try everything, everything, you hear me?”

“Sydney, for one thing, I am the doctor here. And for another thing, I'm no sure if you should really be here and see this. You are next after all...”

“MIKE! MIKE!”

“I swear, if that brat tries to bite me again, I'll crush his ribs.”

“Jean, honey, be a bit more sympathetic. After all, his brother...”

Sydney found it hard to keep up his smile. The situation didn't look good at all. The child wasn't delivered yet, and Mike's blood kept dripping to the floor, adding to the growing, dark red puddle under the operating table.

He wasn't a doctor, but even the Sniper could see that this wasn't good. Yes, Martin was right. He was next, and what he was witnessing right now should worry him sick. However, he didn't worry about himself so much. Mike, though...

The twin's face was pale and his lips were already changing to a translucent, bluish color.

And the blood kept dripping.

Martin's face was pale, too. No matter how calm his words sounded, his body spoke a different language.

The worst sight of all was Gabe. Sydney had never fully understood it, but there was this special bond between the twins. They probably knew what the other one was thinking or feeling before they knew for themselves.

Something in Gabe's eyes was dying.

“Ahem,” Jean cleared his throat. “Gentlemen?”

“Gabe, he'll be fine, Martin will do his best. I promise you that, sweetie,” Sydney tried to comfort the younger twin who had suddenly stopped to move. Mike's curses had stopped, too. He wasn't even groaning anymore. His breathing was slow and heavy.

“Gentlemen, I beg your pardon...”

“Sydney, I told you, I'm the doctor her, don't make promises I cannot keep.”

“Martin, I trust your skills completely, if somebody can save him, then it's you!”

“From your lips to God's ears!”

“SHUT UP AND LISTEN, DAMMIT, YOU IMBECILES!”

All heads turned towards Jean, even Gabe turned his eyes away from his brother for a second, and Mike opened his eyes.

“Excusez-moi, mes amis. Do I have your attention now?” The Tentaspy had crossed his arms in front of his chest, his forefingers tapping impatiently against his upper arms.

“Good.” He inhaled deeply before he spoke on. “I have one word for you: respawn.”

“Res...” Sydney began to repeat, his eyes widening. Then, with his hand, he slapped against his forehead and began to laugh.

“Respawn! Of course! No, wait!” He looked at the Medic. “Martin, didn't you say respawn is too dangerous for us, in this condition?”

“Well, I said that there doesn't exist any research about respawn and pregnancy. There are theories that there's a high risk that the restoration of the bodies might face life-threatening complications because of the different DNA-codes of the mother – father – and of the baby. But once the child is removed...”

“Idiots... I... hate you... all...” Mike groaned, his eyelids fluttering. “Get that thing outta me and KILL ME ALREADY!”

This time, Sydney's smile was real. He couldn't help feeling impressed; Mike had lost so much blood, the anesthesia hadn't worked very well; yet, the twin still had enough willpower to not give in. If Sydney could only make him focus this willpower on other things but his hate on humanity.

“As you like it.”

Martin had halted his movements when Jean had shouted at them. Mike's body lay cut open in front of him, blood was dripping from the scalpel and, by now, streaming unhindered from the wide wound.

He threw the scalpel aside and with both hands, he reached into the open abdomen, simply shoving the intestines aside. It annoyed him that Jean had to remember him of the respawn system. They could have saved a lot of time.

A moment later, the cries of a new born filled the room.

“Hm, he's still alive. Impressive, I have to admit that much.” Martin's mouth twitched amusedly when he looked at Mike's face. The young man was pale, his guts were turned inside-out and the blood-loss was immense. Yet, he still breathed.

“Finish him off, then,” Jean stated coldly.

The Medic looked at him uncomfortably, so did Sydney.

“Respawn or not, euthanasia....” The Medic shook his head.

“Jean, could you...?”

“Alas, I'd love to, mon ami Sydney, but I'm busy with this brat.”

Sydney grinned at the Tentaspy. He was sure that Jean wouldn't hesitate to kill one of the twins – or both – if they were a danger, or threatening any of them, especially Tyler. But like this...

However, if they waited a few, for Mike very painful minutes longer, there wouldn't be any need to discuss it anymore.

The Sniper's eyes rested on Gabe. The younger twin's expression was far from blank; in fact, Sydney couldn't remember if he had ever seen so many emotions in Gabe's face. Many, and contradicting.

Suddenly, he had an idea, and he hoped he wouldn't regret it.

Groaning under the weight he carried, he stood up from his seat.

“Jean, give me your knife, please.”

“So you want to do it after all?”

“No, he will.” Sydney took the knife from Jean and gave it to Gabe. The twin's fingers closed around the hilt, and he began to tremble.

“Are you out of your mind?!”

Sydney ignored the aghast outcries coming from Jean, Martin and Lukas alike.

“Listen to me, Gabriel. I know that you understand me. Help your brother, then we'll take the knife back. Jean will keep holding you and your arm, so please, don't try anything that forces us to hurt you, okay?”

“Forget that I asked; you are out of your mind,” Jean growled, but he loosened his grip.

With few and firm steps, one tentacle around his waist, one around his wrist – ready to drag him away from whoever the twin might point the knife at – Gabe walked over to his brother.

“Hey, asshole,” Mike greeted him, his voice low and weak. “Enjoy.”

Gabe grinned back at him.

With one quick, sure movement, he slit his twin's throat open.

Holding a newborn child with almost white hair and ice-blue eyes in his arms, Martin watched the scene. The baby was crying lowly, as all babies did when they were new to the world, while the man who had born it was finally dying.

The Medic shook his head – the younger brother didn't even seem to care when Sydney took the knife away from him.

Silently, Gabe bent down and kissed his dying twin's blood-covered lips.

*

“Miiiiike, honeeeey, how are you?”

Mike growled an incoherent answer and pulled his blanket over his head.

After he woke up in their own respawn room, the recent injuries had disappeared and his body had been restored. The pain, though, from the knives opening his abdomen and his throat was still there, and his inner organs felt like somebody had used him as a punching ball. The strain and exhaustion from the last months had still been present.

He would need a few more days to recover completely. At least, the crazy nightmare was over and he was alive. Sometimes, however, he wasn't sure if he was too happy about the last part.

Sydney, of course, had undergone the whole procedure without any complications, and had been his usual cheerful self after a long, relaxing sleep.

“Don't you want to say 'hello' to your son and his half-sister?”

“Just... fuck... off... all of you...”

“Behave like a man! You should know that you will not get rid of him unless you play along. Get over it, boy.” Jean remained behind Sydney and Lukas – each of the two were carrying a sleepy child in their arms.

“I'm sorry, Mike, please don't think I distrust you,” the Sniper smiled apologetically at the scowling twin when he pulled up a chair and sat down beside Mike's bed.

“I wish I could let you hold them, but... well... you are still weak and, you know, easily irritated. Of course you will not be excluded,” Sydney hurried to say. “You will have your part in raising your boy. Please, don't be upset.”

Mike gave up. He hated to admit it, but the Tentaspy was probably right – he would have to play along for the moment and hopefully, he'd quickly be over with it.

“Whatever,” he answered Sydney's lengthy apology, finally sitting up in his bed.

“By the way, this is Terry. Isn't she lovely?” Sydney beamed at him, holding the bundle he had in his arms up a bit. Everything about the little girl gave her parents away – the dark-brown hair, the blue eyes, the features of her face.

Mike glanced at his brother. Gabe was sitting on the bed, right next to him. Reading, of course. The arrival of the visitors didn't seem to impress him at all.

“Whatever,” Mike repeated finally, only wishing he could go back to sleep soon and forget everything that had happened the last nine months.

“Here's your boy. He's beautiful.” Sydney waved at Lukas who stepped forward. The blond hair and the pale complexion were undoubtedly inherited from the Spy. The child had its eyes closed and was sleeping peacefully.

“Don't worry, Lukas is a wonderful father. I could learn a lot from him. And already did.” Admiringly, with a hint of sadness, he smiled at his assistant. “He insisted that you should choose a name. Mike. How do you want to name your son?”

“What? Er...”

“Don't even think you have a chance. Give your brat a name, the sooner we can leave,” the Tentaspy sneered.

“Jean! Please, honey, consider your attitude in front of the babies!” Sydney exclaimed disapprovingly. But he was reconsidering his strategy anyway.

“Well, Mike, we don't want to overexcite you. You need to rest. Give him a name, and we'll leave,” he promised reassuringly.

“Okay, okay, if ya insist. Gabe, what fag wrote that shit ya reading there?”

“Anthony Burgess.”

“Anthony. Satisfied?”

“You sure...? Uh, okay. Anthony it's then. Hm, don't you want to hold him after all?”

Laughing at the horrified twin's protests, Sydney gave his daughter to her father, Lukas, and took the small boy from him.

“Here. Isn't he adorable? Jean, please,” the Sniper hushed when the Tentaspy growled something about his suspicion that not only Sydney's child had been removed from his body.

With an encouraging smile, he lay the infant into Mike's arms.

“No! Forget it! STOP THAT, DAMMIT! Take that away! Take that thing away! Er... what the... hey, Gabe! Gabe! Look! He has your eyes!”