Work Text:
Aragalia never tried to be a good big brother. He simply was one. He had no room to try, failure was not an option when failure meant the reason that made him a brother would die. For decades, he protected his lady love as they traversed the bowels of the Wings, the plains of the Outskirts, and the alleys of the City. He wore her favor, Umberto, with pride, treasured it within his heart and mind as his Fixer duties sent him away from her side. He was blissfully, damnably ignorant of the thief burrowing into their enchanted kingdom to steal his sister’s heart. By the time it was too late all he could do was tie the ribbon on the back of her wedding dress and walk her down the aisle to give her away. He was a good big brother and good big brothers do whatever makes their little sisters happy.
Even if her happiness meant the end of his.
When he and Angelica were children they used to play house. Having no parents and having a vague understanding of what a mother and father were supposed to be like they simply swapped roles.
“Dear brother,” Argalia would say, “comb my hair.”
“Dear sister,” Angelica would say, “please stop squirming so much.”
Eventually, they outgrew playing their sham of a house, and now that Angelica was an adult she was playing proper house with Roland. Husband and wife, father and mother. The ideal family had those two components, a baby, and maybe even a pet if they wanted one. When playing games no one said uncle unless they were in pain and wanted whoever was hurting them to stop. Angelica’s stomach ballooned as the parasite Roland fucked into her womb grew, and Argalia could only watch as his sole reason for existing, the meaning of his life was slowly eaten away from the inside out. There was no room for uncle Argalia in their white picket fence life. Only a guest room, not even a room made especially for him, just a rest stop he could use and had been used by the various associates that visited the couple.
Disgust and fury smoldered somewhere offal, suburban, southwest of the happiness buzzing through the veins of his urbane heart. He was a gentleman, and he made sure ladies came first, especially his lady love. Even if she insisted they carried on their affair in the guest room. (“Roland would notice if I always wash our sheets after you visit. And it just feels weird if we did it in our bedroom.”) Argalia heard Angelica giggle and lifted his head from between her legs. She was stroking her stomach. Once the bump became noticeable she stopped stroking his head, both in and out the bedroom. Maternal instincts came in fast and strong. There was a magnetic pull between her hand and her abdomen now. Even when she opened the door to let him inside her house her hand had been resting on her stomach, curled around it like a mother bird cradling her egg. Her offspring was worth receiving more affection than him.
Argalia slid back down and went back to servicing her. He sucked her clit between his lips and tugged on it like a child pulling on mother’s skirt, demanding her attention. Angelica sighed once, two times, and suddenly giggled again, backing away from his mouth. She sat up and Argalia followed. Her hand rested on the top of her engorged stomach. It had very few stretch marks, but a dark red line ran longitudinal across it.
“The baby is kicking, Umberto!” she whispered between breathy giggles.
She grabbed his hand and gently placed it on her stomach. He could feel it, little feet drumming against her stretched out skin. The dynamic duo, disgust and fury, broke through the happiness gridlocked in his chest and raced up and through his tender heart, their exhaust polluting his lungs. He smiled through the pain, but it felt more like a spasm and he prayed it was not obvious. Angelica leaned against him, her head slotting into the space between his own and his shoulder. Argalia hugged his arm around her waist and if not for her stomach they would have slotted together perfectly just as they had in the past. He pressed his nose to the crown of her head. Angelica’s hair smelled unfamiliar, not like the Angelica he knew.
Beneath him Argalia heard his sister say, “During my last visit to the clinic, I read this magazine article about twins. It said that the children of identical twins shared enough DNA to be half-siblings.” She leaned out of their hug to look up at him, lacing her fingers between his hand on her stomach. Her face had gotten rounder during her pregnancy. Angelica no longer looked exactly like him. “Umberto, big brother, I know you and Roland don’t get along, but this baby isn’t just our child, it's your child too. At least, that’s how I want it to be. You know how greedy I am. I want you two to think of the baby as something made from the three of us. Connecting us. We’re family, but you feel so distant nowadays. I don’t think you understand that you're an uncle now.” The last sentence she grumbled petulantly, burrowing her face back in his shoulder and foot lightly kicking his leg.
“Of course I understand,” Argalia replied. He unlinked his hand from Angelica’s and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, avoiding her stomach but he could feel her swollen breasts press against him. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her head, breathing in the unfamiliar scent. He could see his suitcase in the corner of the guest room, packed up for his return trip tomorrow.