#promise

“i know, kier, it’s okay.” you pat his cheek and start the shuffle-walk towards a surface he can rest on.

you barely make it a few steps before the weight is lifted off your shoulders and kieran is hoisted up and over sylus’s shoulder.

“sy—“

he grunts, lumbering into the living room and tossing kieran on a couch haphazardly. kieran groans but slumps like dirty laundry over the arm rest.

then sylus returns, a willow hovering over you with limp limbs and a head hung low. you reach up to touch his face, feverish against your palm, and frown. “you didn’t puke too, did yo—!”

his shoulder muffles the rest of what you have to say, smelling fruity and tangy from his choice of alcohol, as he presses his forehead to your neck. “just buzzed.”

his arms circle your frame, larger now with the little heartbeats growing stronger in you, and you’re enveloped in his warmth. slightly off, but just as meaningful.

“papa’s just buzzed.” he whispers to your ear, and it tickles.

“looks like papa doesn’t know how to hold his alcohol.” you tease. you should have warned the twins that sylus is a poor drinking buddy when it comes to the harder fun drinks the youths tend to order.

but you couldn’t crush their drinking with dad dreams, especially now— in this time of sylus’s life—he takes pride in the title more than ever.

sylus was reluctant, not because he didn’t want to indulge, but you’ve just entered your second trimester and he’s been loathe to leave you since… well, since the announcement.

you teased him about being clingy, he whined in the privacy of your bedroom to your baby bump. tattling to your child how mama is keeping him and them apart.

but eventually, he caved and brought the unmasked twins to one of his more private speakeasy’s. which then, maybe escalated into something more neon and bouncy, you aren’t sure. the state of kieran tells you so much and so little all at once.

“i can!” sylus protests.

“f—ck! i gotta fy-ook!” kieran hiccups behind you in distress.

when you start to rush to find something to catch it, sylus holds you in place. you hiss at him. “sy! it’s gonna get on the carpet.”

“luke will clean it.”

you push him away just enough for him to tube-man upright. but kieran has already found a vase and stuck his face into it, now hurling accordingly.

“see?” sylus slurs. “my kids are smart.”

kieran’s dry heaves echo into the hollow artifact and trigger your own reflexes. suddenly, your stomach isn’t feeling so well. you pry away the corded muscles around your waist and sprint to the bathroom.

outside, amidst the chaos, sylus is bellowing. “kieran, look what you’ve done!”

and kieran is wailing, “i’m sorry! i’m s—orry!”

“ohh, i’m going to kill you.” luke returns just in time to witness his twin’s mess into the vase.

sylus is there, standing like a stunned specter when you emerge from the bathroom door. he blinks a few times like he’s rebooting before he places both hands on your cheeks. “are you okay?”

“yes,” you say kindly, stroking his ring fingers with your thumbs. “don’t yell at them.”

“okay.” he nods, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing. “sorry.”

he turns his head and yells into the hallway. “sorry!”

“s’okay, dad.” luke calls back, tired.

“we love you, dad!” kieran cries, voice crackly and strained.

sylus grins, goofy and loopy, chuckling once and slowly turning back to you. “i like being dad.”

you smile at him. it’s been such a time since you’ve seen him drunk, and the last time wasn’t nearly as tame as this. tonight he’s just… happy and cute.

“do you hear me?” he asks, pressing his nose to your bump as he falls to his knees. “i love being your dad.”

“he isn’t even out yet.” you laugh, nails against his scalp that make him melt further onto you.

“doesn’t matter.” he murmurs, peppering kisses over what he believes is the little’s foot. “i’m dad. m’papa.”

he clings to you and snuggles his face into your belly when you sit among your boys in the living room. there, you laugh as luke paints you a picture of their night. how the speakeasy didn’t escalate into a full party, rather a case of your husband’s singing bug.

“boss sang like, seven songs.” luke says, and you laugh when sylus groans into your side. sedated only by your gentle caresses through his hair. “then, a gooey duet with kieran.”

“on the wings of love is a classic and you’re a—hic— pleb for not knowing it.” kieran interjects.

luke ignores him, still upset about cleaning up after his brother twice. “they sang through, like, three bottles of brandy.”

“and sum’beer.” adds kieran. “soo fun.”

“not fun.” grumps about luke.

sylus pouts against you. “you guys said you like it when i’m fun.”

“bossss,” kieran sings. “you were awesome. i will never—hic— ever—hic— ever forget tonight.”

luke watches his brother warily, but then softens when he looks back at sylus. “he’s right. tonight was pretty sick, boss.”

“dad.” sylus corrects, his voice now a grumble teetering towards unconsciousness. “i’m a dad—a’papa.”

“a’papa!” kieran responds enthusiastically, as if sylus had just recited a psalm. he closes his eyes and murmurs it to himself happily over and over.

“i think a’papa needs to go to bed.” you say, brushing back sylus’s hair from his eyes to see them closed. his mouth now slightly ajar too as his breathing steadies.

kieran’s echos fade too shortly after, and soon turn to soft snores.

only you and luke are left awake to witness the crackle of the dying fire in its hearth.

quietly, you ask. “why didn’t you drink?”

luke clicked his tongue and took a while. “i did.”

“but?”

he twists to retrieve a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. its crinkles sounding solemn as it is placed gently into your hands.

you give him a curious look as he sits back and waves for you to open it.

in big, bold, elegant font, it reads:

CERTIFICATE OF LIVE BIRTH

秦薛明 — Lucas Qin

luke turns shy when you look back at him. suddenly, his fingernails have turned interesting that it needs all of his attention.

“i hope you don’t mind.” is the first thing he utters and you are appalled at his words. “or he discussed it with you. we don’t expect you to think of us as yours, but we—we’d love to be part of the fa…”

his voice trails away when you plop yourself beside him and wrap him in a tender embrace. “of course you’re mine.”

he sniffles for the first time since you’ve known him. you don’t dare to look. but he leans his head towards you and swallows. “i didn’t want to forget.

“i didn’t want to wake up and maybe think… it was all a dream.”

all their lives— such hard and painful ones— they never had more than the other. never been wanted. never belonged.

at the gift presented to them, once pristine in the folders sylus had meticulously placed the parchment in, luke and kieran felt as if they had been killed, burned and reborn anew.

unmasked. with a face. with a name.

after years of always pausing by the door and waiting by the barrier, never did they think that they would be invited in.

and that will always be there to haunt them, the idea of being impostors in places they aren’t supposed to be in. where they think they fit, but their reality is bathed in delusion they would blame on their nonexistent childhood.

but now written, they will have something to tell them it’s all true.

“happy birthday.” you kiss his temple. he freezes at the affection, at the difference it makes coming from someone other than his brother. from another member of the family.

and as if you knew what he needed to hear, you swear.

you swear as if it is known, written in the stars eons ago. indisputable by fate or anything brutal that makes its demands. a truth you have lived and remembered and etched into your bones. you swear,

“you’ve always been our sons.”

a kick against his elbow that rests just by your belly is all is needed for him to believe it.

thank you for reading! ❀(*´◡`*)❀

Shadow isn't the worst task you've been assigned, you both are more akin to awkward roommates more than anything.

I'm talking randomly lingering in the corners of the room, his bright red eyes glowing and they always seemed to be locked right onto you.

You screamed the first dozen times, but now you just glare at the black hedgehog and spit out a "fuck you." and go about your business.

He'll never admit that it brings him infinite amusement, it's hard to tell, but the huff he lets out is evidence enough.

Shadow will never admit he cares for you, he loses everyone he cares for, and humans don't live that long. It's terrifying to think about how much he's come to like you.

He's not nearly as slick as he thinks he is.

You're sitting down at the dinner table, typing away on your laptop, editing the mission report from the other day when Shadow makes his way towards you. Sending him a nod in his direction, you don't think of anything when he moves in close.

A huge slam takes you off guard though, jumping damn near out of your skin as you twist your head to look at him.

"What the fuck-"

"Take it."

It's one of Shadow's guns, his emblem being engraved along the stock.

"What? No, I have guns." You raise an eyebrow at the hog, his face is perfectly still, eyes locking onto yours as he waits for you to grab the heckler.

"Your guns are worthless, you need something better."

"Well excuse me, I so happen to like my guns." You try and joke back, but the offense is taken.

Shadow rolls his eyes so hard you're scared that he's gonna blind himself. Jutting his chin towards the table once more to get your focus back onto it.

"If you have one of mine, I know you're safe." He doesn't elaborate. Not that he needs to.

"...Thank you, Shad."

All you get is a grunt in response, and he's on his way back to his room.

Gingerly picking up the weapon, you take in how pristine it is, a thumb caressing your small initials that you missed on the other side of the stock.

With Shadow saving the world, the reeking of havoc makes it to where he's limited to what he is allowed to do in the public eye.

Not that he listens, he isn't supposed to be out after curfew. But to be fair, it is extremely hard to keep a teleporting hedgehog confined to a meager two-story house.

You can hear him teleport above you, he's on the roofs of the nearby building, leering down at you.

It was a small errand you were on, simply stocking up on the essentials for the house.

Namely, snacks for Shadow, he doesn't ask for a lot other than coffee beans and Doritos.

You are choosing to ignore the fact that he eats the coffee beans straight up, the crunch echoes through your head and it sends a shudder down your spine.

He was adamant against you leaving the house this late, standing in front of the front door.

"No."

"Fuck you mean no?"

"I said no."

"....I don't listen to men."

And you weaved around him to leave the house, ignoring his shout of disapproval.

That leads you both to here now, you pretending you don't see him trailing you from the rooftops as you walk your way back home from the small shopping center.

You feign surprise when he opens the house door for you, begrudgingly sticking a hand out to help you with your bags.

"Oh! Thank you my knight in shining armor~"

"Shut it."

He's never told you his birthday, which you can understand, living for 50 years and not having your family around must be hard. No matter how he may fake that it doesn't bother him.

That doesn't stop you, not in the slightest really. You damn near kick him out of the house for the day, shoving him over to Tom and Maddie's house so he can be with the others. Despite how much he protested.

"I don't want to go over there. Not with that blue fake."

"You don't really have a choice bub, I need you out of the house."

"I don't understand why I have to-"

"Keep arguing with me and I will make it a point to not buy you shit next grocery trip."

It's an empty threat, but he grunts nonetheless.

"...."

"That's what I thought."

When he finally gets home from his long and admittedly overstimulating day with the Wachowskis, he's ready to recharge in his room.

He teleports through the house door, sighing and rubbing at his temples as he moves to kick off his shoes, knowing that if he doesn't, you'd chastise him for not doing so.

Something about tracking dirt and rocket fuel into the carpet.

Whatever.

After trying to massage his brain through his fur, he opens his eyes up to see a colorful banner strung across the mantle.

'Happy birthday!' It screams, in its disgustingly neon color palette.

Shadow wracks his brain for any information of it being your birthday, he knows for a fact it isn't today. A friend you're throwing a party for? Well, that makes no sense, he knows very well you don't have many friends, especially any that you'd invite your house up for.

You're antisocial to a fault, not that he has absolutely any room to talk.

He hears you before he sees you, turning the corner into the living room, carrying some balloons in your hands. A stupid little party hat on your head.

"Shadow! What are you doing back so early?"

Kicking off the last shoe, he stands at his full height, staring into your eyes with a shrug.

"I wasn't aware I had a time."

"....fair enough, anyways, fuck, goddamnit. Stay here. Okay?"

And you're off, running into the kitchen, his ears flick at the slamming of the fridge door, followed by the cabinets being no doubt, hip nudging it shut way too forcefully.

He's awkwardly standing there still until you yell for him to come in.

Shadow has half a mind to ignore you and go into his room, but curiosity kills the cat, so he takes in a deep breath and makes his way to you.

He finds you sitting at the little kitchenette, a nervous smile spread across your lips as you gesture to the plate in front of you.

The smell is apparent, it's a coffee cupcake.

The hedgehog feels his ears flick again, staring down at the desert, then trailing his eyes back to meet your own. Wordlessly asking you what was going on.

"You've never told me your birthday, but it's been a year since you've been here, with me. After the whole trying to destroy the world shit. So since you won't tell me, we can kinda treat this as it?" You keep rambling, eyes flitting around the room, very clearly nervous as to his reaction.

Shadow doesn't say anything, or move even. Just staring down at the cupcake.

It looks amateurish, the frosting is lopsided, and the toppings on it look messy. But you made it for him. You even added a big black "1" candle in the center.

He doesn't know what to say, he can feel heat rush through his body, rushing to his ears and his face, and his fur feels constricting.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

You go to open your mouth again, no doubt to apologize, but he beats you to it.

Moving to scoop up the treat, he gently sniffs it before taking a cautionary bite.

A beat passes between the two of you.

"...it's good."

Shadow does his best to ignore the smile that blooms across your face, not wanting to remember just how pretty he finds you like this.

Disgusting.

Shadow doesn't like touch, you know it, he knows it, and everyone knows it. He's threatened to break Sonic's wrist for even so much as patting the older hedgehog on the back. Baring his sharper fangs and hissing out to not touch him ever.

He avoids group hugs from Team Sonic, avoids Tom and Maddie like the plague, dodging every invitation to be a part of the family, it makes him sick to think about it.

With you, it's a little different.

You're not like them, you don't push him to change, you don't have a problem with how closed off he is, giving him space, never once pushing his very strict boundaries.

Something churns in his chest at the sound of you crying in your room, you probably think you're being incognito, holding a pillow to your face to drown out your sobs.

The internal debate is heavy, Shadow used to be able to comfort, to provide warmth, but he hasn't done so in years. Flashes of memories where he would comfort Maria on her bad health days, letting her run her fingers over his quills, to lend an ear to Gerald when he was frustrated about treatments not working.

It's not to say he is replacing you in their place, but it's scary. To open himself up like that again. He can feel his anxiety rising as he goes over the pros and cons of crossing this line. Eyes squeeze shut forcefully as he tells himself he doesn't care about you, that you're an adult, and you don't need to be babied.

His ears twitch when a pathetic little whimper drops from your lips, and his resolve cracks.

You don't look up when he makes his way in, too stuck in your bubble.

Startling a little when two, much stronger and larger hands grab at your own, peeling them away from the pillow. Your puffy bloodshot eyes looking at the hedgehog in front of you, his face set as it usually is, stoic. But his eyes are different, and his body language is different, when has he ever looked at you so softly? It's jarring.

Oh, he's moving closer. Okay. Weird.

"Shadow? Uh, I'm ok-"

You try and lie, it's a pitiful attempt. Your voice is scratchy and the tear tracks down your cheeks aren't helping your plight.

"No, you're not."

He shuts you down immediately, hands sliding up your arms to drag you into him.

The instant your bodies touch, you feel a fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes again.

Shadow has you resting against him, your head resting on him as he wraps himself loosely in your arms, giving you the space to move away if you so choose.

It's the first time he's allowed you to hug him, the first time he's ever initiated contact with someone in years. A fact that you both are well aware of.

A sob works its way up your throat, immediately tightening your grip on the hedgehog, curling into him as you shake.

Shadow doesn't say anything, doesn't make fun of you as snot pours from your nose, doesn't point out that your mascara and eyeliner are getting everywhere, just sits there and lets you cling onto him like he's your only lifeline.

He thinks that this is okay, he's strong enough for you both, and you don't need to worry when he's here.