BAZ

"Aunt Stacy says that ice cream for breakfast is perfectly acceptable." I press my back to the wall, sucking a silent breath as I listen. "And Aunt Steph said that if you add fruit, it's practically healthy."

"Your aunts are terrible liars," Penelope says, "now hop up and I'll make up pancakes, sans ice cream."

"Mummy," another light voice complains, "we don't want pancakes. Fahfy made us pancakes the other day, and they were lumpy."

I finally round the corner, grinning as two pairs of twinkling eyes turn to watch me. "I'll have you know I make the best pancakes on the east coast."

"Fahfy!" Tasha squeals, slipping off her chair and racing to me. I bend, plucking her up from the ground and onto my hip.

I cringe at my nickname, the bane of my existence for as long the twins have been able to utter the word in my presence. I'd like to tell my adorable daughter what exactly I think of her little creation, but Natasha was only trying to be a good big sister when she came up with the ridiculous name.

…

"Meanwhile Bunce get's Mummy, you get Daddy, and I'm stuck with some pretend word. It isn't fair, Snow," I whined, slapping Simon's hand away as he yanked at my hair.

"We're married now, Baz. We have children, you sort of have to call me Simon."

"Ah, it's no fun when someone calls you something utterly ridiculous, is it?"

"…You're point's been made."

I even tried to change it, on numerous occasions.

"Natasha, Cody, thank you for joining us." My four-year olds blinked up at me. "I'd like to welcome you to the first official Snow-Pitch grand court."

"What's court, Daddy?" Cody asked.

"It's what we do when Fahfy's being silly, sweetheart."

"Simon, hush. We've convened today so that we can discuss some new names for me. As must as I love you two, Fahfy just isn't going to do."

"But I like Fahfy," Tasha said very matter-of-factly, "it sounds like fluffy. Like a doggy. And I like doggies."

"That's very clever, little puff, but also, not gonna happen."

"What about poopy?" Cody suggested. "I like poopy."

"And Fahfy it is." I grunted.

…

Tasha tugs on my hair, impatient for my attention. "We weren't saying your pancakes are bad. They just aren't very good."

"How diplomatic of you," I roll my eyes, going over to the fridge and letting her cling to my neck as I search through it. "If I apologize, will you leave me a good review?"

Cody plods up behind us, his blanket clenched in his hands and a fist sleepily rubbing at his eyes. "Good review with who, Fahfy?"

Simon whisks into the room, larger than life in one of my suit jackets and a pair of jeans. "With Daddy of course," he cries, snatching Cody up and swinging him onto his back. Cody shrieks, a giggle bubbling up in his throat as Simon spins.

Penelope tsks, waving her spatula around as Simon gets particularly daring while tossing our five year old into the air. "Boys," she exclaims. "That will be enough of that. The kids need to be fed before I head back over, and all four of you need a shower."

"But Penny," Simon whines, echoed by the wriggling girl in my arms.

"But Mummy," she bounces on my hip. "Daddy let me and Cody eat Lucky charms super late, so we're not hungry."

Simon shrinks away from the glares Penelope and I lob his way. "We were hungry," he shrugs, setting Cody down and sighing as he runs behind Penelope's leg. "Sure, leave me to deal with them all alone."

"Sorry Daddy." He squeaks, grinning widely as Penelope pets his hair.

"Okay," I let Tasha go over to her twin brother, watching as she links their hands, "why don't you two go up and play in your room? They'll be an extra hour of TV in it for you if no one breaks anything."

They're gone before I can finish the offer, racing up the stairs two at a time and giggling to one another. "And no magic!" Penelope screams after them, dropping the spatula down into the sink. Once I hear the switch of the television, I wheel around to scowl at Simon.

"Sit," I order, waving to one of the freshly vacated chairs. He inches over to them, plopping down and staring sullenly down at his hands. "You cannot keep obliging the twins' every whim like this."

"They were hungry, and you sleep like the dead. What was I supposed to do?"

"Send them off with a carrot stick, and ignore their crying," Penelope suggests. "Now, if you don't mind, I have another household of children to attend to, and a husband non too happy with me for leaving so early."

"Go on, I can handle the three of them."

She nods, patting Simon's shoulders before giving us a flutter of her fingers and going to the door. "I'll see you two in a little bit." She calls up the stairs. "Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone."

"You spoil them silly," I say as the door slams shut. "We'll end with a pair of brats if you aren't careful."

"A little spoiling's never done anyone any harm," he sidles up to me, hands resting loosely on my waist. "Besides, they're too good to be brats. They're part you after all."

"And part you." I add. "And, unfortunately, part Bunce."

"Exactly," he says happily, "the way I see it, they'll be perfectly fine, midnight snacking or otherwise."

"Simon, I'm begging you, for the sake of our children, to behave yourself. I'll get down on my hands and knees if that's what it takes."

"Baz please, save that for later." He winks. I almost reply, but then his lips are on mine, and I quite like my smirking, absurdly smug husband. I might even love him a bit.

…

I stopped being surprised by the trajectory of my life a long time ago, but if someone had told me that I would spend the rest of my eternity co-parenting a set of magical twins with Simon Snow-Pitch and Penelope Bunce, I would have laughed. And then vomited. And then wondered if the two of them had drugged me.

It started a year after Simon and I were married.

"How was the first day?" I asked, watching Simon bounce around the flat, buzzing with an uncontrollable energy.

"Great," he cried, "like, really, really great. I didn't think I would like it, but once we got there, it was just so…so…cool!"

Simon hadn't known what to do after graduation, and if it hadn't been for Stacy, he still would have been as listless and bored as before. She'd started at some nonsensically popular website soon after our wedding, and when Simon complained to her about his chronic unemployment, she'd offered to put a good word in.

And it was a rather good fit, it turned out.

"They don't want me to write, which is good since I'm shit at it. But they have these videos, where people just talk about stuff, or try new things."

"I've been on Buzzfeed before," I replied, flipping to the next page of my newspaper. "I know how it works."

He acted as if I hadn't spoken, flopping down beside me and curling his tail around my calf. "And there was this bloke, and he started singing. And he was good, and it was just like this normal day filled with incredible things."

He melted into my side, and his happiness was infectious. "I'm glad you like it, love."

Purring, he dragged his finger down the length of my palm. "Penny's coming over by the way."

"Is that your doing?"

He sat up, his smile dimming. "You don't want her here?"

"It's not her so much that I don't around, but the screaming newborn."

The door flew open, and Penelope scurried in, rocking the shrieking baby back and forth all while looking harried. "You shouldn't speak that way about your goddaughter."

"Simon's goddaughter," I corrected her. Simon leapt up from the couch, waiting for Penelope's nod before taking the baby, Alejandra, from her and rising until he hovered a foot above ground. The first time he'd done this, flown with the baby, Penelope had almost ruptured an instantly forming aneurism, but it calmed Alejandra when nothing else would.

Still, she murmured, "Stuck Like Glue!" into her ring, cementing little baby Allie into Simon's arms, for the time being.

With him fluttering around, Penelope sank down beside me, her head lolling back as she shut her eyes. "You look particularly exhausted."

"I have a small child who doesn't sleep through the night," she bit out, "what's your excuse?"

"Touché, Bunce."

She exhaled heavily, her shoulders sagging. "He's good with her." She commented. "I haven't been able to get her to sleep in over fifteen hours. Five minutes with him, and she's quiet."

He was cooing to her, singing something soft and lilting that had Allie gurgling. He'd always been great with kids. Mordy loved him from the moment they met, Mori and Bella hung from his every word, and Daphne swore this wasn't true, but Nora's first words might have been his name.

I looked up at them through fresh eyes, the tender way he watched her hitting me like a punch to the stomach. He was good with her, painfully so.

"You can head into the room and get some sleep if you want, Penn." Simon swayed Allie, and a small smile passed over her tiny lips (although it was most definitely just gas).

"You are a Godsend," she cried, nearly in tears herself. "Micah should be by to pick her up in an hour, two tops. If she gets too fussy, wake me."

"I've got her," he said confidently. And my throat seized up, a knot forming that made it hard to swallow or breathe or think of anything else.

We went through the day without incident. Micah came after five hours, not two like our sleep-deprived witch promised, but Simon didn't want to let her go when it came time for her to go home with her parents.

"I can baby sit," he said, walking them to their car. They'd moved earlier in the year out to the suburbs, while Penelope was pregnant. (Something about not raising children in the city.) "It only takes me ten minutes to fly to your house." His eyes darted to me, and his lips pulled tight as he frowned. "Not that I do it often." He rushed to add. "No flying for me, unless completely necessary."

Micah, just as pale and haggard as his wife, stared blearily back at Simon. "I'm so tired I barely understand you."

"Sorry mate, but I'm not sure I trust you driving her home." He rubbed at his rings, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "America Runs On Dunkin!"

Micah jumped, a jolt of caffeinated magic hitting him hard enough to put color back into his cheeks. "Thanks," he clapped his hand against Simon's shoulder, "but Penn's driving. We'll make it back in one piece."

"Still," Simon shrugged, "just want to make sure."

"And you're a good man for it," Micah replied, accepting the hand I offered him. "The both of you."

"Micah, let's go!"

"That's my cue," he winked, nodding to us both before jogging over to the lingering elevator.

We waited until they were gone before going back into the flat, taking up the same spaces as we had before Penelope trounced in. But something felt off, and I knew I wasn't the only one who noticed it.

Simon was drained, not exhausted exactly, just emptied out. More hollow than I'd seen him in a long time. He fell back onto the couch, his head resting on my lap and his eyelashes fluttering.

"All right, Simon?"

"Sure," he replied quietly, "just tired. Allie's a lot, even if she is the cutest."

I traced a finger along his forehead, smoothing out the crinkles I came across. Slowly, I searched for the right way to ask the question tearing a path through my mind. "Would you…?" I trailed off, frowning when I couldn't get it out, and he tilted his head back, watching me with curious eyes.

"Would I?" He urged me on, tail flicking about.

"Would you want one of those?" I asked, and he shoved back against the sofa cushion until he straightened up, his legs draping over mine. "You love kids, maybe more than you love scones."

"Don't be daft," he sniffed, "I love kids about as much as I love scones. And yeah, I guess I always thought we would have some. We've always talked about our family, and I just assumed it would be big."

"I don't mean some theoretical baby, some time off into the future." I clarified. "I mean now. Do you want one of those screaming, crying monsters currently stealing all the energy from our closest friends now?"

"Well, once you say it like that…" he rolled his eyes, swinging his legs off of mine and resting his elbows on his bouncing knees.

"Simon."

"Okay, yeah, I do." He glanced at me, his excitement and his terror dueling so obviously across his face. "But I just started a new job, and I'm pretty sure you hate that broker shit you do and just aren't telling me." A surprisingly astute observation. I was shocked. "And Penny and Micah have had three years to talk about all of this."

"Simon, we could spend hours picking at this, and deciding that it wouldn't be a good time. I'm dead; you're a bloody fool nine times out of ten. Those are two very real reasons why we shouldn't even consider this. But I saw you with Allie, and you glowed. If you love her that much, imagine a child of our own."

His stare stayed trained to the ground, but he couldn't keep from fidgeting. His fingers trembled, the air, thick with salt and sweat and hope, swirled around us thanks to those ridiculous wings. "I'm not the one who needs to be convinced."

"I want what you want," I gripped at his arm, and he bucked me off so I wouldn't feel how badly he was shaking. "No convincing required."

"Are you sure?" He asked uncertainly, staring back at me owlishly. "Because if you are, then yeah. Yeah, let's have a baby."

We spent the next few weeks going over the different decisions we would have to make before doing something as huge as having a child. First, we talked to our friends. They weren't exactly receptive.

Stacy: "A baby?" She cried, "but we're the same age. And if you start having babies too, then that will make me old, and I'm not old. You can ask Steph, I'm far too flexible to be old."

Steph: "You two would make lovely parents," she said cautiously, "but a new baby will make it impossible for you to focus on getting into a good orchestra. And I know, I know, you said you were putting the violin on the backburner for the time being, but there's no way you stay with this whole economics thing."

Penelope (quite rudely if you'd ask me): "What part of the current state of my miserable existence do you want a part of? The waking up to shrieking at four in the morning, or constantly smelling of spit up? I adore Alejandra, don't get me wrong, but at this moment, I'm begging you, wait. I can't handle two babies, and I'll end up helping you fools. Now if you excuse me, I've got to go change her fourth diaper in two hours."

Micah: "I could be sleeping right now instead of having this conversation. So, if you don't mind, I'm going to go."

"This is hopeless," Simon moaned later, slumping onto the bed with a frown. "No one thinks we can do this."

"No," I corrected him, "they think we shouldn't for their own reasons. No one said we couldn't do it."

"But you see how exhausted Penny and Micah are," he argued, "and Steph's right too. You're just starting out in your career, and I haven't even got one. How could we take care of an actual human baby?"

I arched an eyebrow at him, batting at his tail as it zoomed past me. "As opposed to what other sort of baby, exactly?"

"Don't make fun of me," he huffed, "it isn't the time."

"You're genuinely worried about this?"

"Course I am," he exclaimed, slapping his hands against his face, "aren't you?"

Gently (or as gently as I could while avoiding decapitation from his lethally flicking tail), I pried his hands from his skin. "No," I said softly, "or, yes, I bloody am. And if it were anyone else, I would think I couldn't do it. But it's you, and it's me, and if we've managed to get on this long, we can do this." He stared at me with a frown puckering on his lips. "I hope," I tacked on as an afterthought. "Now, forget our friends, or what our family will think. We're going to have this baby, and at least one of us will be a fucking fantastic parent."

"Probably me," he sniffed, a mischievous smile moving over his mouth. "You're shit around children."

"I'm great around children," I waved away the insult, too ridiculous to warrant anger, "and I'm the only one out of the two of us who actually knows how to change a diaper."

"A match made in heaven, the two of us," he giggled, slipping his hands around me. "You can change their diapers, and I'll be around for the cute bits."

"This heaven is sort of like the nightmare I had the other night."

He kissed my cheek, pouncing up and going over to the fridge. "Sounds about right."

From there, we had to choose between the infinite options out there. Would we adopt (which Simon had no patience for. The lists they kept referring us to had us waiting years), or foster (after Simon's experience in the orphanage, we were all for giving someone a home they so desperately needed. But neither of us looked too great to fostering agencies. Young, listless, and there was the accompanying risk of us moving back to England) or find a surrogate.

Unsurprisingly, it was Penelope who provided us with a solution.

…

PENELOPE

"Micah," I call, closing the door behind me and walking into the living room. The television is blaring, there's the making of an argument brewing in the air, and someone's burnt something in the kitchen.

I'm gone for half an hour, and the house has already devolved into chaos.

"In the kitchen!"

I follow the path to Micah's voice, smiling down at the brown-headed children that race past me. "Thomas, be careful with your brother," I remind my eldest son, watching as he tackles James despite my warnings.

Micah smiles at me when I step into the kitchen, blinking away the lingering effects of sleep from his eyes. "They didn't like the breakfast."

"You aren't the only one having trouble," I tilt my chin up, accepting the kiss he places on the tip of my nose. "The twins were just as difficult this morning." He hums, and I search for tightness in the set of his jaw or the flare in his nostrils. The mention of the twins used to send him into his version of a rage, absolute silence. His face would betray him because his words could not.

The leaden ball in my stomach disappears when the only response I catch is the crinkle in his eyes. Fondness. Not love, that will still take time, especially with how we all got here, but affection is decidedly better than revulsion.

…

In hindsight, I didn't have to offer what I did. When asked, I blame how painfully sleep-deprived I was at the time, but I've never needed much sleep, especially when making big decisions.

"Penelope, no."

He was pacing along the floor, wearing a path into the carpet. I wished he'd stop, it was making it hard to think. "I have to do this Micah, and I need you to understand."

"You're not at Watford anymore, you don't have to sacrifice everything for Simon Snow."

I shook my head, my hair falling into my face. I thought it might be time to get another cut, maybe a new color. I hadn't done silver yet, but what would happen when Allie grew old enough to want to copy me? How exactly would I explain her luminescent head to my mother? I could hear it now, Penelope Padma Bunce, what on earth have you done to my granddaughter?

"That's what you don't get Micah. I'm not sacrificing anything, I'm giving these two people that I love more than anything in the world something that they deserve."

"It would be our child." He said it scathingly, as if he would somehow be able to change my mind with that tone. If anything, it steeled my resolve. "Allie's little brother or sister."

"It would be their child, I'm just donating some DNA."

"I don't get how you do this," he sat beside me, resting his head in his hands. "I don't get how you can let him take and take and never want anything back."

I longed for the perfect way to explain why I was willing to do something this monumental. I knew that it would be hard, that child would be half Snow-Pitch, but also half me and no matter how close I was to them, I would still have to walk away. But they were the only people I could ever do this for.

"They'll be wonderful parents," was the only explanation I could find. There weren't words to describe how free Simon was now that the world doesn't rest on his shoulders. He just turned into a large kid, something he never got the chance to be. He had this joy about him, this energy that a child would love. And he would love them right back, would put everything he had into making sure that they didn't grow up the way he had.

And Baz. I only had to remember the way he looked at Simon, and the choice was simple. Simon was more than the moon to him, more than the sun. He was every star and the space in between, he was the planets and the black holes and the comets. He was Baz's entire universe. He'd love him and he would protect his family for as long as he was allowed. And for a vampire, that would be forever.

"I don't know if I can support this."

In the back of my mind, I'd come to that conclusion as soon as I brought this up. Micah loved me, I knew he did, but there was only so much he could manage. And ever since moving out here, I'd been waiting for him to run out of patience.

Maybe it was time I gave him an out. "You do what you have to do, and I'll do the same."

He stared at me hard, Allie sleeping peacefully in the crock of my elbow. "You said you loved them more than anything," he said slowly, "but that can't be true now that she's here. Please, I know they're family to you, but so are we. Think of us too."

And I did. For hours, and days, and weeks, until my mind was made.

"I thought you living in Long Island would mean that we would see less of you," Baz said, his head darting up as I let myself into their apartment.

"Is Simon here?" I asked, ignoring his quip. "There's something I need to say, and I need you both around to do it."

He frowned, tossing his head over the back of the couch. "Simon," he called, "get out here."

"What's up, I was busy," he padded into the living room, donning only a pair of boxers and ridiculously large headphones. "Oh, hey Penny. I didn't know you were coming over."

I gestured over to the couch, waiting for him to sit. "I hadn't planned on it, but there's something you should know, and I couldn't hold it in any longer. I completely support you two having a child, and I have a way you can do it."

Simon perked up instantly, leaning forward and eagerly awaiting my next words. "Well, get on with it," Baz snapped, "the suspense may murder Simon, and I quite like him so you see why I can't allow that."

Sighing, I let the book in my arms fall onto the table. "Okay, so when Micah and I were married, we initially thought that we would put off having children for a while. Micah wanted to finish off his grad schoolwork, I was considering applying for a few graduate programs myself. And the more we talked, the more it seemed that our careers would come before children for the next decade at least.

"At the time, a woman was giving a seminar over at NYU on freezing eggs, so that waiting to begin a family wouldn't be as much of a concern. And I didn't want to have to worry about it in the long run, so I did it."

"But you have Allie," Simon so helpfully pointed out, interrupting me in the process, "doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose of all that?"

"It does," I confirmed. "I was thinking that maybe I would donate them, but I just haven't had the time to sort through all the paperwork, or all that much incentive to, if I'm being completely honest. Until now."

There was a sharp inhale, and when I turned to Baz, the color leached from his face. Simon, though, stared back at me dumbly, not quite understanding. "What's that got to do with us?"

"She wants us to have them," Baz answered for me, his voice monotone as he processed. "She wants to help us have a baby."

"I've done all the research," I rushed to continue before Simon could reply, reaching for the book I'd brought and flipping through it frantically. "I've got a list of surrogates I thought you would get along with, and the ratings of the best fertility clinics in the area. The only thing you have to do is say yes, or no, if that's what you choose."

Baz grabbed for the book, scanning the pages and pages of information, but Simon was immobile. I touched his hand, smoothing my thumb along the metal of my ring with my free hand.

"Simon?" I said quietly. "Is this a terrible idea?"

He grimaced, shaking off my hand before lurching into me, his hug strong enough to knock me back. "No," he said thickly, "just – this is – you don't – thanks."

Simon was the most grateful, but Baz was the one who took my research and executed it. He contacted all the surrogates, settling for a nice, but excessively bland, girl named Sarah who needed the money to start taking classes next year. Baz moved her into the spare bedroom, preparing her for what would happen when they went into the clinic for the implantation.

"So how does this work?" Simon had asked the week prior, holding onto a small cup and blushing furiously.

Baz, looking just as uncomfortable, sneered. "All you've got to do is wank off and have it land in the cup. I've seen you do it countless times, I know you know how."

I cleared my throat, making them both jump. "And why exactly are you doing it too, Basilton? Can vampires even have children?"

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" He bit out. "If anything, I'll be able to pretend there was a chance of me being the actual father." Simon pursed his lips, scratching at his curls, and Baz groaned. "Did you read the pamphlets I brought home?"

"Of course I read the pamphlets," Simon snapped back, folding his arms over his chest. "But it wouldn't hurt to explain it. For Penelope's sake, I mean."

"Right," I drawled out, rolling my eyes. "Please explain it to him before he gets a headache."

Baz snorted, and Simon sulked. "Fine. They'll take these cups once they're full, mix them together, fertilize the eggs and then put them in Sarah. That way neither of us will know who the actual father is."

"Except we will know." Simon said. "It'll be easy enough to tell later on."

"Maybe," Baz shrugged, "we'll be able to guess if it comes out with blue eyes."

"Or a smart mouth."

"Or those idiotic curls."

"Or that punishment of a widow's peak."

"You love my widow's peak."

"That I do."

Standing, I reached forward and jerked them apart. "Unless the flirting will quicken this particular part of the process, I'm going to have to insist that you both go to your receptive bathrooms and be done with all of this already."

And they did, the two of them flustering about with ruddy cheeks and shy smiles as we drove back. It would have been nauseating if not for the fact that it was for a good cause.

We knew that the implantation of the embryos had been successful about two months later when Sarah was vomiting up the breakfast Baz made for her and complaining about the fit of her jeans.

We didn't find out that it was twins though for another three.

"Two heartbeats," the doctor pointed at the two grainy lumps on the screen of the sonogram. "I'm surprised it took us so long to confirm it, but these guys are tricky. You'll have your hands full." She laughed.

She let herself out of the room, and Simon turned to me in a panic. "Two babies?" He cried, softly so that Sarah wouldn't hear us, "I'll barely be able to handle one baby, and now there are two?" He glanced at Baz, searching for some soothing words I'm sure, but even he seemed stricken.

"What the fuck are we going to do?" He whispered, sucking hard on his fangs.

I snapped, drawing their manic gazes to me. "You'll be the amazing fathers you always planned on being, just for two instead of one. We've come too far now for you to start having doubts."

"Not doubts," Baz hissed, "just tiny concerns that as soon baby Bunce one and two burst out, we'll immediately fuck them up."

"Not possible," I sniffed, "not if I'm there."

It was getting harder and harder to separate myself from what was happening. I went to every sonogram, I passed along my maternity clothing to Sarah, I talked names with Simon. I would pass the spare room beside Allie's and think of the perfect way to fit two cribs in there before remembering that they wouldn't be staying with me. They wouldn't be mine.

"I don't know how to help you, Penn," Micah murmured when he found me crying one evening. We'd been walking on eggshells around one another, only completely together when it came to Allie. "I warned you about this."

"That's exactly what this situation needs," I laughed bitterly, "an I-told-you-so."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes trained to the ground as he forced himself to walk away.

I think Simon realized it was getting to me soon after that, because one evening when were discussing the merits of different brands of diapers, he suddenly sobered up.

"Me and Baz were talking last night," he started, pushing aside his beer, "and I just wanted to say thanks again for this."

"I might have to spell you mute if you plan on thanking me for the rest of our lives."

"That wasn't the end of it," he growled, bumping his shoulder into mine. "We also were talking about how hard this must be for you, since they're your babies too."

"No," I said quickly, clasping onto my wineglass so my hands wouldn't tremble, "they aren't. They were my eggs, but those babies are all yours."

Narrowing his eyes, Simon gave a firm shake of his head. "That's not true, and you know it. And we just wanted to let you know that you can be as involved in all of this as you want. I know Allie's still a lot to manage, but the twins are going to know all about what you did for us, and they're going to know you're their mum. And that's not ever going to change. They're mine and Baz's, but they're yours too, if you want them."

And of course I did. Of course I did.

I nodded, and just like he had all those months ago when I stepped into their flat with the offer that started it all, he leaped up to hug me, spilling wine everywhere without the slightest of cares.

SIMON

"You know what I want," I said as Baz and I walked back from the coffee machine to the waiting room. "I like the name Cherry. I've always liked the name Cherry, and that won't change just because you scowl."

"It's as much Penny's decision as it is ours, and she hates it too."

"Well she said she didn't like the name Emaline, so that's gone then."

Baz scrunched his nose, taking a sip of the coffee and then making a face. "I wasn't serious about Emaline, even if it's a perfectly lovely name."

We found empty chairs and sat, the events of the day finally washing over us now that there was a level of peace.

Sarah had been in labor for the past four hours, and it seemed as if we would be there all night. Penny was in there with her right now, giving us fifteen minutes for a small break from the insanity that was the delivery room. Micah hadn't been home when Sarah's water had broken, and Penny didn't want to bring a two-year-old to the hospital, so she could only come now.

Baz let his head fall back against the wall, and when I clenched my hands, I felt the rings press into my fingers. "I've got an idea," I said suddenly, and it was so simple, I was surprised I hadn't thought of it earlier.

Sixteen hours and many squeezed hands later, we sat on the floor of the delivery room, drained.

"That was excellent, Sarah," the doctor said, patting her knee before moving down to us. "I'd like to introduce you to your son," Baz scrambled up from the floor, holding his breath as he took the baby held out to him, "and your daughter." Penny nodded to me, beaming.

"Take her," she urged when I didn't move, "my arms are too tired to hold her anyway."

I stood slowly, careful not to move or even blink too quickly as the doctor set her in my arms. "She's still crying," I said nervously, "why is she still crying?"

"She's not used to it out here," the doctor laughed, taking a napkin and brushing it tenderly across her face. "Give her a little bit of time." I peeked at Baz through the corner of my eyes, and I could see my terror written all over his face. "What have you decided to name them?"

Baz shuffled over to Sarah, shifting the baby gently from his arms over to hers. "This is Nicodemus Butter Snow-Pitch.

"And this," I breathed as the baby in my arms opened her eyes, bright blue irises darting around before they settled on my face, "is Natasha Cherry Snow-Pitch."

It took a bit of convincing to get Penny on board with Nicodemus. "Why in the world would we name him after one of the greatest disgraces in magick?"

Baz brought his finger to his lips, glancing pointedly at Sarah, who slept soundly. She deserved the rest after the past day. Shit, I guess after the past nine months. "Nicodemus helped me find my mother's murderer. He helped save Simon that day."

"And it's the best way I know to honor Ebb," I finished for him. "She loved her brother more than anything in the world, and she would have loved the twins too."

"You could always just give him her name," she murmured. Baz rolled his eyes, and she sighed, considering it for a moment, before nodding. "I suppose it's all right. We'll call him Cody." When I began to protest, she glowered at me. "We'll call him Cody." She repeated, leaving no room for argument. "Now, I'm going to go call Micah, let him know everything went well. And the girls will want to know too."

With her gone, Baz scooted closer to me, his body relaxing as I leaned into him. "We're parents." He said, and no two words were ever as massive. If it was a spell, it would have changed the fate of the entire universe, made it so the rest of the world would know how we felt in this moment. "Fuck."

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

…

Tasha finds me in the master bedroom, climbing up onto the bed and nestling down at my side with a giggle. We moved soon after they were born, suddenly understanding the need to go somewhere quieter with two babies who could never sleep at the same time. Luckily for us, there was a house for sale on Penny's street (both Baz and Penelope swear that there was no magic involved, and some days I almost believe them), so we left the city and never looked back. "Daddy," she says, pushing at the mass of light brown curls that tumble into her face. We'll have to cut it one day, but Penny likes it long, and after lengthy arguments between her and Baz, it was decided that she dealt with all major grooming decisions.

"Yes, Berry?"

"I'm not berry," she giggles, nuzzling her cheek against my wing, "I'm cherry!"

"You're right, love. I'm sorry. Yes, my sweet Cherry?"

"Can I practice my magic? Fahfy took Cody over to Mummy's other house to play with James and Thomas."

"You didn't want to spend time with Allie?"

Her lips turn down as she tries for an imitation of Baz's sneer. "Allie's mean to me. She picks on me and she never lets me play with any of her games ever since I beat her at connect-four."

"Is that right?"

She nods precociously. "I'd much rather stay here with you. Fahfy never lets me do magic. Neither does Mummy, but you will." She flutters her eyelashes, long and impossibly curled, and I wonder how it's possible to be manipulated by someone literally a fraction of my age. A tiny fraction.

"One spell," I say, grinning as she squeals, springing onto her feet and closing her eyes. "How about that one I taught you last week?"

Bouncing, she brings her hands up until they hover over me. "Warm and Toasty!" She says brightly, and a rush of warmth courses through me. Cracking her eyes open, she waits for my smile before standing taller, chest puffing out with pride.

"So good, baby girl," I say, grabbing for her ankle and listening to her laugh as she falls. Hopefully then she won't notice how terrified I am.

…

Tasha was always the leader between her and Cody. She walked first, she talked first, and one day last year after I used a spell to heat up a plate, she closed her eyes and parroted me. And the damn house nearly caught on fire.

"Baz," I hissed into the phone, watching as she and Cody played, crashing toy cars into their legs. "Get home, now!"

By the time he burst through the door, Penny was already there, chewing on her nails with a six-year-old Allie leading the twins through a game of tag. "What happened?" He asked, sniffing the air and cringing. I hadn't been able to completely clear the smoke from the air. "Why did you sound so panicked on the phone?"

"It's Tasha," I whispered, giving her a bright smile when she looked up at the sound of her name. "She did magic."

He shook his head, frowning. "That's not possible, she doesn't have a wand yet."

"Hence the frantic call," Penny answered. "This is bad."

"This is impossible," Baz shot back. "You both are just overreacting. It was probably something you did." He said, jerking his chin at me. "And I'll prove it." Crouching, he called for Tasha, grinning as she skipped over to him.

"Yes, Fahfy?" She said angelically.

Cody glanced at us, grey eyes suspicious. He didn't like to be left out, especially when his sister was involved. He toddled over, and I reached for him, lifting him up and digging the tip of my nose into his hair. It was so soft, black and feathery and glossy like Baz's.

"Don't call me that, sweetie," he said, looking back at us darkly. "Would you like to see a trick?" She nodded eagerly, and within seconds a ball of fire hovered over his palm.

"Whoa," Cody breathed, squirming to get closer. I clung on tighter, taking a step back. A side effect of having a vampire as a father is that we never let him near fire.

"Can you do me a quick favor?" Baz continued. "I want you to try and put it out. Think about it disappearing and then say Make A Wish! Think you can do that?"

She nodded again, pleased to be given something to do. "All right, I'm ready," She lifted her hands and closed her eyes. "Make A Wish!" She said, and we felt it move through the room. It was a wave washing away everything on the sand, taking the fire along with it.

If my magic was a hurricane in the middle of the ocean, hers was the beach, powerful and calm. And incredible. And dangerous.

Baz lurched back, barely managing to stay on his feet. "That's not right," he murmured, "you shouldn't be able to –"

Tasha watched him, tears filling her eyes at an alarming rate. "I did what you asked," she said shakily, and Penny swept her up just as she began to cry.

"Fahfy didn't mean to make you sad," Penny cooed, scowling at us both, "don't mind him." She walked her onto the patio.

Cody wriggled in my arms. "Can I have an ice pop?"

"Once you clean up all your books," I set him down and nudged him towards the TV room. "Go on."

"Aleister almighty, what are we going to do?" Baz asked once we were alone, and he looked as lost as I felt.

"I don't know," I shrugged, trying to breathe. There was something on my chest, something heavy and thick and taunting that was making it hard to catch my breath. This was my fault.

It had to be. Because Tasha was mine, it was easy enough to see in the moles that patterned her caramel skin, and the blue of her eyes and the ridiculous curls sprouting from her scalp. Cody was normal, perfect, but normal. He was the best of Penny and Baz, curious and thoughtful and brave. And that kept him from danger.

But not Tasha. Sweet, funny, boisterous Tasha. Who sang during her bath and splashed Baz even though he insisted on wearing his nice shirts straight from work. Who stayed up with her brother if he had a bad dream. Who would spend the rest of her life hiding a part of who she was. Our Tasha.

Shit, this was my fault.

It didn't take us long to realize that we couldn't let her do magic, not now. Penny gave her a ring that used to be her grandmother's strung on a chain and hung it around her neck. But it was just in case Tasha couldn't help herself and practiced the spells she knew. Kids rarely started feeling their magic this young, but people could get over that initial shock. If anyone say her doing magic without a magical heirloom, they would whisk her away to somewhere so dark and so underground, we would never see her again.

…

Penny and Baz are stricter with her, but it's moments like this where I can't help but indulge her. Because she loves magic, I can feel it whenever she gets a glimmer in her eyes or practically spills over with energy. It makes up a lot of her, just like it made up almost all of me, and sometimes I wonder if the prophecy hadn't gotten it doubly wrong. That maybe I hadn't been the greatest mage of all time at all.

That if all the evil and all the fighting had just waited a generation, it would have been a fairer fight. And the World of Mages would have had the Chosen One they deserved.

"Okay," I clap, shaking away my thoughts, "time to get dressed. We need to be at Mummy's in a hour if you want to be a part of the party."

She looks at me the way Penny used to when she thought I was being daft. "Of course I want to be a part of the party. I've got a special dress and everything."

"Then go on, little miss," I pat her back, and she slips off the bed, "I'm leaving in fifteen minutes, with or without you."

"You got put in time out the last time you did that," she sings, "Fahfy said if you did it again, he would eat you."

I chase after her, diving down to the floor before she manages to run into her room. She shrieks, landing hard on my stomach as we both tumble to the ground. "Your father is all talk," I say, hefting her up into the air, "and no bite."

"He's a vampire," she reminds me, and I grunt as she gets me in the arm with her tiny feet. "Vampires eat people."

"Vampires suck the blood of very mean people, no eating involved."

"Oh." I set her of her feet and she skips into her room. "You're not mean, so I guess it'll be okay. Anyways, I'll be ready, and you're not even wearing pants."

I look down, and sure enough, I've still only got my Tuesday boxers on. "Get on with it, Daddy. Fahfy said you couldn't be on time even if someone lit a fire under your bum."

Grumbling, I stand, glowering at the door as it begins to swing shut. "Damn Baz, plotting to turn the kids against me."

"That's a bad word!" She screams, peeking out to give me a reproachful look.

"Well, no one likes a tattletale," I poke my tongue out at her, "now, that's enough out of you. You now have ten minutes to get ready, be snappy."

We don't leave for another half an hour, much to Tasha's obvious glee. She can't find her left shoe; I can't find the house keys. It isn't until she tells me to check my coat pocket that my fingers brush against cool metal.

"No telling anyone about this either," I growl, making sure the door is locked before taking her hand. "Got it?"

"Got it," she replies with a downward jerk of her chin.

"Nice of you two to finally join us," Baz says once we let ourselves into Penny's house. The party's in full swing, people spilling out onto the patio and lounging around in the kitchen.

"Daddy wasn't ready in time," Tasha says, shrugging off her jacket once he unzips it for her. "And he told me not to tell you."

"Did he now?"

She nods dutifully, blinking innocently up at me. "He also said the p-word."

"I suppose that means he owes a dollar to the swear job, doesn't he?"

"You two are against me," I growl, "this isn't fair." I take her jacket, draping it over my arm and pointing over to where Cody sits, half a burger in his hands and ketchup dripping from his chin. "Go eat with your brother, unless there're any of my other secrets you feel like telling Fahfy?"

Tapping her chin, she thinks it over carefully. "No," she says, "I'm done." With that, she runs outside, banging into Micah's leg with a laugh. Stacy sees her first, pushing away her wineglass so she can crouch down beside her. Steph is soon to follow, the both of them marveling at whatever it is Tasha's saying. I'm sure it's something great, Tasha's always been best when she's in front of her fans.

"So what exactly was I plotting this time?" Baz asks, pulling my eyes over to him. He's amused, biting down on his tongue to keep from smiling. "World domination, or your ultimate demise?"

"Worse, a way to make it so that I only ever get lip from the twins." He laughs and it makes me frown. "I'm serious! They see me as some big playmate, and it's your doing."

"Not a playmate exactly," he muses, "more like a somewhat intelligent pet."

"Fuck off," I snarl, no real venom in my voice. "If anything, we're both very intelligent pets."

He hums, and we both turn at the sound of a gasp. James must have fallen because he's close to tears, so Tasha leans down beside him with her lips pressed together, and before I can blink, a cupcake appears in her hands. Steph, who Stacy sat down and finally revealed magic to years before, twists back to gawk at us, eyes wide and astonished. She knows enough to realize that no one should be able to do that, least of all my five-year-old.

"We're well screwed, aren't we?" I murmur, my chest aching as Tasha hands James the cupcake, smiling brightly.

Baz nods, swallowing roughly. "That we are. But there isn't anyone I'd rather be screwed with."

It's enough to get a laugh, and I fall against him. "You're so cheesy it makes me want to vomit."

"And I'd probably be the one to clean it up." He bucks me off, smoothing the hair away from his face. "Come on, let's go get our girl before she magicks the entirety of a bake shop into Bunce's backyard."

"Would that be so terrible?"

"Shut up, Simon."

.

..

...

A/N: Anddddddd, I'm done! I hope you enjoyed this Snowbaz domesticity dump! And, I'm not saying that I may or may not have started a certain sequel centered around a certain pair of magickal twins...but I'm also not saying that so you haven't seen the last of me!