DOS Ch-337

AN: On public demand, I have changed the names of the twins to Atlas and Damian. This is final.

_________________________________

I held the little baby close to my chest for the first time, and without anyone saying a word, tears filled my eyes. The world seemed too narrow to the warm weight in my arms. The lingering smell of baby products on his skin and the impossibly soft rhythm of his breathing against my heart were intoxicating.

Atlas and Damian had finally grown enough that we were allowed to bring them home. All future doctor visits would happen at our house to avoid the media frenzy waiting outside the hospital gates. Just the thought of photographers shouting questions while we carried our newborns made my chest tighten, and I silently thanked my luck for being able to avoid all that.

My son stared up at me with big green eyes, a perfect replica of mine. Combined with his dark hair, he looked like a miniature version of me. There wasn’t even a remote question of a DNA test to verify their paternity.

The best part, or the worst part depending on how you see it, was that Atlas and Damian were identical. So now I had two mini-mes. In theory, it sounded great, but I was already dreading the moment I’d confuse one for the other. For now, we’d chosen to dress them in different colors: shades of blue for Atlas and green for Damian.

“Ooohh!” Damian cooed with surprising focus, his tiny hand flying toward my face as he inspected his surroundings, aka me. His little palm landed squarely on my nose and stayed there, warm and impossibly small.

I let him.

I don’t think I, or my security team, would’ve let anyone else manhandle me the way my son was doing, and I was enjoying every second of it.

“Daddy loves you, little man,” I whispered, my voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “So does Mommy, and brother Atlas, and both your grandpas and grandmas.”

“Don’t forget all his uncles and aunts,” Scarlett reminded me from the other side of the bed, nursing the older twin. Afternoon light filtered through the curtains behind her, catching in her hair and giving her a tired but radiant glow.

“Of course,” I agreed with an exaggerated nod. “You’ve got many uncles and aunts ready to spoil you rotten as you grow up.”

“As if you won’t,” Scarlett challenged, one eyebrow lifting.

I shrugged. “That’s my right as the cool father. I’ll leave the parenting to you since you’re the more sensible one among us.”

“You will not,” she said in mock indignation. “I won’t have you push all the fuck—”

“Hey!” I rebuked her immediately. “Language!”

Scarlett gave me a look. “They won’t remember this.”

“I don’t care,” I said with finality. “No one swears near my kids until they’re teenagers at the very least. That’s non-negotiable.”

Scarlett snorted but nodded anyway. “Alright, your lordship. I’ll mind my tongue.”

We basked in a comfortable silence, both content in our roles, listening to the soft, gurgling sounds Atlas made while feeding.

Then Damian started crying.

And it wasn’t some weak squeal. It was a full-on, ear-piercing wail that sliced straight through the calm like a siren.

“Damn, little guy’s got lungs,” I whispered, rocking him gently as I tried to pacify him.

“Language,” Scarlett shot back smugly. “Damn is also considered a swear word if you’re being technical about it.”

“Oh sh…oot!” I corrected myself at the last second, standing up with a still-crying baby in my arms. I began pacing slowly beside the bed, bouncing him with careful urgency. “Please calm down, Damian.”

I quickly checked his diaper. Still dry.

“I don’t know why he’s crying,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice when he wouldn’t stop even after a full minute.

“Here,” Scarlett said, offering me the baby in blue, who was surprisingly calm now. A few loose strands of hair clung to her flushed face, and despite the exhaustion in her eyes, she looked completely in her element. “He’s just hungry. You burp Atlas in the meanwhile.”

I looked at her, dumbfounded, and quickly swapped babies with her. Within seconds, the younger twin latched onto Scarlett’s breast, drinking hungrily as if nothing had ever been wrong.

I looked down at little Atlas, who stared back at me with an angelic expression, his tiny fingers curling and uncurling in the air. I placed him carefully against my shoulder and started burping him, just like I’d seen in all those parenting videos. Gentle pats, steady rhythm, don’t panic.

A small, satisfying burp escaped him, and I felt an unreasonable amount of pride.

“We make a great team,” Scarlett said about an hour later, her voice soft so she wouldn’t wake the babies. Both boys were fed, burped, and asleep again, their chests rising and falling in perfect synchrony.

“You’re finding out about it just now?” I asked challengingly. “I’ve known that ever since I first laid eyes on you.”

She laughed before wrapping her arms around my neck. “You’re such a liar.”

“I swear,” I said with utmost seriousness. “When I saw you at that Golden Globe event, only one thought was on my mind: ‘Goddamn! I wish we were both single.’”

“Language,” Scarlett whispered playfully, pulling me closer, and I obliged. My hands rested on her hips as I drew her gently against me.

“I think we can make an exception this one time,” I murmured, leaning closer.

“I think we can,” she replied, tilting her head mischievously. “And thankfully, I’m on an IUD, so no worries about a third baby popping up anytime soon.”

That was all the encouragement I needed to move closer to her lips. I could feel her warm breath against my skin as the room seemed to grow quieter around us. I brushed my lips softly against hers until…

“Uwaah! Uwaah! Uwaah!”

I groaned and pulled back, only to find Atlas crying his lungs out this time. The worst part was that his wails had woken Damian, and now both of them were trying to sync their cries like a duo of well-trained vocalists.

Scarlett immediately stepped away from me and picked up Atlas with practiced ease.

“He needs a diaper change,” she announced after a quick check.

“Welcome to parenthood, I guess,” I whispered before lifting Damian into my arms to pacify him. He didn’t need a diaper change, just a hug. Almost instantly, his cries softened into small hiccups as he pressed against my chest.

If I really wanted to, I could’ve hired some of the best nannies in the world to take care of my kids, but that would defeat the whole purpose of parenthood. Sure, we hadn’t exactly planned them, but now that my kids were here, I had no intention of pushing their responsibilities onto someone else, at least not when I was home.

(Break)

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit at home for this long,” Mum commented from the lawn chair she was sprawled across. The sun cast a gentle warmth over the garden, and a light breeze rustled through the hedges. It was one of those rare, peaceful afternoons when the world seemed to slow down.

“You’re saying that as if I’ve never taken a break before,” I shot back. “Remember the time Evan and I wrote [Echoes of You]? That break was even longer than this one.”

Mum raised an eyebrow. “That was more than 5 years ago. And do you really want me to remind you of all the factors that led to the writing of that film?” She glanced meaningfully in Scarlett’s direction, who was busy cooing at our sons.

Hearing that, Scarlett turned toward us. “What circumstances were those? You never told me how you and Evan wrote that film.”

“It’s really not that big a deal,” I said, waving her off. “I wanted to write a complete album, my first one, so I spent months writing songs nonstop. Evan heard them and suggested I should make a movie around the concept. So we wrote the script. That’s all.”

“That’s definitely not all,” Mum said with a grin. “He was heartbroken. His first-ever girlfriend had broken up with him not long before. He was just fourteen or fifteen at the time. It was cute, actually.”

I groaned and shook my head. “God, I was such an emo prick back then.” I turned to Scarlett. “Had you met me at that time, you would’ve never dated me.”

She laughed. “Then I’m glad I didn’t.” Then she shifted the topic. “So, when are you writing your next musical film? Maybe this time something happy? For Atlas and Damian.”

I followed her gaze to the twins, who’d fallen asleep again in their double stroller. Their tiny blankets rose and fell softly with each breath, completely unaware that they were already influencing creative decisions in their father’s career.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I hadn’t thought of that, but now that I do, I guess I can write some songs for them.”

After a few moments of silence, Mum sat up straighter in her chair. “So, have you guys decided on the wedding date now?”

Scarlett and I exchanged a brief look before I nodded. “We have. We’ll get married in 2012.”

Mum’s eyebrows shot up. “Two years from now? Why?”

I shrugged. “Why not? The twins are way too young right now, and marriage is just a piece of paper. We’ve also got work to take care of.”

“Work? Really?” Mum asked rhetorically. “Do you two really need to work?”

“We don’t,” I agreed. “But right now, it’s more about wanting to work than needing to. Staying away from it, except for keeping myself in shape these past few months, has made me crave going back onto a film set and diving deep into a character. I don’t think I can ever stop acting, even when I’m old and grey. Sure, I may not be offered leading roles then, but I’d still want to do something productive. It’d be hypocritical of me to stop Scarlett from doing the same.”

I turned to my fiancée, silently giving her the floor.

“I…” she hesitated, brushing her fingers lightly over the stroller handle. “I hadn’t ever thought about retirement, if I’m honest. And I’m definitely not as much of a workaholic as this guy. Growing up, acting was always something I absolutely had to do if I wanted to live comfortably.”

She looked me straight in the eye and continued, her voice soft but certain. “But now that I think about it, I’d want to take fewer films to spend more time with the twins. I know you’d support me with whatever I decide, but I really want this life.”

My smile widened. “I’m glad the saner one among us will be home more often.”

Scarlett shook her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Who said that? I may not be taking a lot of films, but I’m definitely playing the Black Widow, and as you know, those films take forever to shoot with all the action scenes and stunts.”

I didn’t say it out loud, but worry had already begun creeping into my mind.

Should I give up my own career to spend more time with them? I can’t ask Scarlett to do that. I just can’t. Maybe I can hire…

“I can take care of them,” Mum said, interrupting my spiraling thoughts as if she’d read them straight off my reminder notes.

She walked over to the stroller and leaned down toward the babies, her expression instantly softening. “You’d love to spend more time with Grandma, won’t you?”

“Are you sure about that, Mum?” I asked. “You took that job managing Phoenix TV because you wanted to do something for yourself as well. I don’t want you to give that up because of us.”

“No,” she shook her head firmly. “I took that job because I was missing having you and Evan around. Caring for kids has always been more rewarding for me than any corporate role.”

Then she turned to Scarlett. “Remember, you need to feed them exclusively for the first six months, so no film shoots until then.”

“Of course,” Scarlett agreed. “I only have to attend the premiere of [Black Swan] next week in Venice. Other than that, I’m not going anywhere.”

“And I’ll just shoot half a season of [Game of Thrones] in Malta next month,” I added. “It shouldn’t take more than three weeks if we shoot all my scenes together.”

Mum looked from Scarlett to me before saying, “I can see why you chose each other. Although you’re not admitting it, you’re hella ambitious and competitive.”

We both laughed at that before settling into a comfortable silence. It was one of those small, ordinary moments that already felt precious.

My mind drifted toward the coming months. Award season was almost here, and two of our films were the biggest contenders for the major honors: [Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows] and [Black Swan]. With the rave reviews the final film in the Harry Potter franchise had received, along with the billions of dollars it had raked in worldwide, critics had practically guaranteed it was a shoo-in for several major awards.

Best Film, Best Director, and Best Actor were the categories everyone kept talking about. Beyond those, Best Supporting Actor for Alan Rickman was gaining serious traction, along with a host of technical awards. I didn’t bother listing the technical categories by name because we were practically guaranteed to win many of them.

The reason was simple.

Because of a twist of fate, the two films that had competed for the most awards in the original timeline, [The Social Network] and [The King’s Speech], weren’t even being released this year. [The Social Network] had started production a little later than usual at Phoenix and still wasn’t finished. As for [The King’s Speech], after the dissolution of the Weinstein Company, I’d bought most of their assets, including their staff.

The same staff had then gone on to acquire the film for Phoenix.

If I’d really wanted to, I could’ve released it this year, but I had no intention of creating stiff competition for my own films. [Harry Potter] and [Black Swan] would dominate the awards this year, while the other two movies could battle it out next season.

A sudden cry pulled me out of my reverie. A cry I’d become intimately familiar with over the past few months, thanks to many sleepless nights.

Before I could even take a step toward the stroller to pacify whichever twin was protesting this time, Mum was already there. She gently lifted Damian into her arms.

“There, there, Damian. Gran is right here,” she murmured, rocking him with practiced ease.

Within moments, he quieted down, his tiny face relaxing as if nothing had ever been wrong.

In that instant, I knew Mum was perfect to take care of the kids in Scarlett’s and my absence.