Late into his pregnancy, Marcus attends a signing event for his fans that he forgot to cancel. While there, he decides to use the opportunity to decide on names for his twins.

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Meet and Greet

After pulling into the parking space behind the record store, Marcus took a moment to release the breath he'd been holding for the past ten miles. Taking his hands off the wheel, he popped his seatbelt, wiggled out from beneath it, and flopped back in his chair, a massaging his fingers into his swollen belly. He didn't like driving this late into his pregnancy; the combination of his short limbs and protruding middle meant that, in order to press the pedals, Marcus was forced to pull the seat forward far enough that the steering wheel rubbed uncomfortably against stomach. Manageable during a quick run to the grocery store, not from driving across town in early-morning traffic.

"Uuuuuuuggghhhh God," the rabbit moaned, rubbing his palms against his eyes. Never had he so missed caffeine. The twins, however, were bundles of energy that morning, kicking and turning inside their father like his uterus was a tumble dryer. They at least kept him from dozing off at the wheel.
"Well," Marcus grumbled as he pushed the door open and turned to the side in his seat. "Here we...go."

With a loud grunt, he hauled himself out of the car with a powerful lurch. The moment his feet touched the ground, Marcus felt all his accumulated pregnancy weight drag him downwards, pulling on his lower back. The twins had begun to descend, leaving his belly to hang from his torso in the shape of a large teardrop.
These assholes better have comfortable chairs, he grumbled to himself while glaring at the building ahead of him.

Marcus was near the end of his pregnancy. Very near. A week from his due date near. Long ago, when the rabbit's belly was barely a bump, he'd spent a long afternoon making phone calls to cancel, move, and reschedule every appointment that fell around the same time as his due date. However, something had slipped through the cracks.
Three days ago, while enjoying his paternity leave, Marcus got a call from the local music store Satellite Records asking what kind of sparkling water he'd like to have at his signing that weekend. It took him a moment to realize he'd forgotten to cancel the event, which was set to occur while he was nine months pregnant with a set of twins. Knowing what a last-minute cancellation could do to his reputation among his most loyal fans, Marcus had no choice but to answer: Tangerine LaCroix.

Standing alone in the parking lot, Marcus stretched his legs and popped his poor, overburdened back. Eddie and Nick were both at work, leaving the expectant father no choice but to drive himself. Whatever Satellite Records was paying him for signing, it wasn't enough.

After making sure the coast was clear, Marcus used the reflection of a nearby window to make sure he was still presentable. He'd allowed himself to get a bit "frumpy" while lounging around the house. When he'd bothered putting on clothes at all, Marcus mostly borrowed shirts from Eddie, who was the only one of them with anything that could accommodate the pregnant rabbit's new size. That morning, he'd gone into the garage to dig through a box of leftover tour merch and found a XXL with his own name on it. It seemed self-aggrandizing, but at least it successfully covered his bulging stomach.

Turning to the side, Marcus pulled the shirt tight to his body to better see its shape. For not the first time, he wondered if it was possible that he was somehow too pregnant. As a thin, petite guy carrying the twins of the naturally-bulky Eddie, it crossed his mind that this was bigger than his body was designed to be. Then again, it seemed like some stereotypes were true: childbearing came naturally to rabbits.
The flash of headlights reflected in the window made Marcus jump. He quickly let go of his shirt, but the way it draped over his belly did little to hide it. A scuffed, sandy-brown car with balding tires pulled up behind the record store, on the other side of Marcus's car. A door slammed shut and a lanky red panda in his late twenties skittered around it, taking a frantic sip of his coffee before setting it down on the pavement and extending a hand toward Marcus.

"So sorry, traffic was hell. My name's Francis, I'm the owner. Thank you so so so much for coming out, Mr. Blackhare. This means so much to us."
"Sure, no problem," Marcus said in an easy, casual tone. He may have been grumpy in the car by himself, but there was no reason to hold it against them. Satellite Records was a small shop. Marcus wasn't exactly a super-star, but he may very well have been the biggest name the store ever had. This situation wasn't their fault.

As one of the twins shifted, Marcus put a hand to the spot instinctively. Francis glanced down at it, opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. He couldn't ignore the elephant in the room, but wasn't sure how to address it. Marcus did it for him.
"I'm just happy the timing worked out before the twins got here," he said, resting his other hand on his stomach.
"Yeah. Yeah, totally. Me too." Francis paused again before adding. "Congrats, by the way. When are they due?"
Marcus paused, drumming his hands on the taut surface. "...Very soon."
"Oh. Good." Francis shuffled awkwardly, hooking his thumbs into his pockets and swishing his tail. Impending parenthood didn't seem to be something the young man had much experience in.

"Could we head inside?" Marcus asked, rocking his weight from one leg to another. "I'd love a place to sit down, if you wouldn't mind."
"Yeah! God, sorry. I'm still waking up. Follow me."

Francis bounded to the back door, fumbling with his keys long enough for Marcus to slowly waddle his way there. The back hallway, like most good record shops, was almost completely blocked by boxes of music. Rubbing the sides of his belly, Marcus grumbled as he began to gradually work his way through, careful not to let his increased girth knock anything over. More than once, he felt his stomach brush the sides of the stacked boxes with only millimeters of clearance. The rabbit held his breath as he moved, praying that a stray movement from the twins wouldn't topple them over.

Only once he was past the hallway did Marcus allow himself to relax. As Francis busied himself with the routine of getting the store up and running, the rabbit sniffed at the air, enjoying the nostalgic scent of vinyl dust that accompanied every record store. Satellite Records was the real deal; wooden, hand-built shelves carried crates of records by the hundreds, each section marked out by hand-drawn signs that looked like they'd been around since the place opened. If Marcus had been about nine months thinner, he would've enjoyed snaking his way through the cluttered aisles, flipping through sleeves in search of something he'd never heard of.

On a whim, Marcus stopped underneath the sign reading International and began idly thumbing through records, starting at the bottom. After just a few flips, he was already impressed.
"You guys have a ton of Yellow Magic Orchestra," he called out to Francis, who was somewhere out of sight.
"Huh? Sorry?" The red panda's head popped up from behind a stack of boxes. "Oh! Yeah, totally. We've got a lot of Sakamoto's solo stuff under S, too."
"You guys are gonna love the music out here," Marcus mumbled to his unborn twins, thumping a beat against his belly. He'd gotten a set of extra-wide headphones to wear around his middle, but he doubted the acoustics of his uterus. Then again, maybe it didn't matter. If the ultrasounds were to be believed, the twins had their father's ears.
"All ready up here, Mr. Blackhare!" called Francis from the end of the store. "But...I mean, no rush!"
Part of Marcus wanted to simply stay and browse, pre-spending all of the money he'd make from this signing. Other parts of him (his sore feet, his sore back, his sore hips) just wanted to get this show on the road so he could go home.

Near the front entrance to the store was an open area with a very small stage raised just a few inches above the ground. It was likely built to accommodate local shows, but Francis had set up a folding table and a computer chair on it. A glossy poster of Marcus's debut album cover hung from it, showing a stylish drawing of the rabbit in heavy black ink. Gazing at his own former waistline, the present-day Marcus let out a sigh as he stroked his baby bump, wondering if he would ever be that trim again.
Sitting on the table was a cup full of sharpies in various colors, a stack of photos to sign, and a large cardboard box. On the way to his seat, Marcus flipped open the box, finding it packed full of CD copies of both of his albums.

"Did the label send these?"
"Yep. All we had to pay was shipping."
"Good." Marcus carefully settled into the chair, listening to it creak and crack like it was swearing at the effort. Every piece of furniture seemed to hate him, lately. "I bet most people will bring their own stuff to get signed, but I don't want anybody leaving empty handed."
"You got anything new you're working on?" Francis asked. The way he folded his arms and leaned against the wall a little too casually gave away that this was a fanboy question posing as idle conversation.

"Not much." Marcus turned in the chair and tempted fate by leaning back. "I've been focused on a pair of 'personal projects.'"
"Oh yeah? For real?" Francis's ears twitched as he perked up. "Anything that might end up on the next album? Or..." He paused, glancing at the rabbit's distended middle. "Oh, you...You meant your-"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's what I meant."
"Right on, right on." Francis clapped his hands together, cleared his throat, and seemed to do everything he could to make this moment just a little more awkward. "You want me to get you a drink?"
"Sprite, if you have some. Water if you don't."

The red panda flashed a double thumbs-up before disappearing into a back room. With a moment to himself, Marcus began laying out the CDs in orderly rows across the table. He was interrupted by a wince of discomfort as one of the twins, whichever one sat higher, took the opportunity to stretch in what little room they had left to move in.

"Girl, cut that out," Marcus hissed through his teeth, rubbing the spot she pushed out against. He could only assume it was his daughter, though. She was sitting higher as of the last ultrasound, but with all the activity going on inside him, he wouldn't have been surprised if they'd switched places.

Girl. Leaning back in his chair, Marcus frowned as he gently stroked his belly. Even now, so close to his due date it could be counted in hours, the twins still didn't have names. He'd put it off for so long, trusting that something would come to him before the big day arrived. Now, with that day looming overhead, Marcus still had nothing. The other fathers didn't offer much help, either. Eddie had spit-balled some ideas, but couldn't commit to any for more than a few minutes. Nick gave him some new age Namaste-bullshit about the kids 'choosing their own names,' which Marcus knew was his way of passing off the responsibility. Maybe once he saw the baby bunnies face-to-face, something would click and he would just know.
For now, their names were Boy and Girl.

At the sound of keys rattling the front door, Marcus glanced up, his ears instinctively standing tall on his head. Mid-conversation with someone behind her, a pear-shaped lion woman with tattoos across her arms stepped inside, holding a coffee in one hand and her keyring dangling from her other. She locked eyes on Marcus and stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide. "Oh my God."
"Hi!" Marcus folded his ears down with his hand and flashed her a wave and a smile.

"Hey! Wow, you're...really here! Holy shit." Fumbling with her keys, she tucked them away, set her coffee on a nearby box of budget CDs and approached the table. "I'm Nat. I work here."
"Hi Nat, I'm Marcus." Bracing a hand against the table, he began the arduous task of hauling himself out of the chair. "Nice...ngh...to meet you."

Nat held her hands out. "Oh God, no no no. Please don't get up. Let me come to you." Stepping onto the small stage, she leaned across the table to shake his hand. "I just had my second last year. You're a saint for coming all this way, I hardly left the house during those last few weeks."
You don't know the half of it, he grumbled to himself, but he answered with, "No problem. Happy to be here."

A hand snaked its way from behind Marcus and set a can of Sprite, sweating condensation, on the table. The rabbit tried not to seem to eager as he snatched it. Pregnancy hormones and the lack of caffeine had left him craving sweets lately.
"Morning," Francis said to Nat. "Is Quinn here?"
"I think she's still unloading the- Nope, there she is."
Ducking under the door frame was a tall, long-limbed mouse girl in a denim jacket, carrying a stack of cardboard boxes. Marcus took notice of the pastel-colored trans flag sewn onto the lapel of the jacket and when the two of them met eyes, they were as long-lost siblings meeting for the first time.

"Oh." Quinn quickly bolted upright, clasping her hands in front of her chest. Her voice was soft and came from low in her throat. "Oh...wow."
"Morning!" Marcus waved. "You're Quinn?"
"Y-yeah." She fiddled with the tip of her whisker and coiled her bare tail around one of her legs. "I'm a...I'm a pretty big fan."
"*Pretty big,*" Nat snorted. "Quinn's the one that did all the legwork to set this up. She has like five of your shirts."
"Never can have too many shirts," said Marcus, tugging down on the one that was barely fitting him. On a whim, he took one of the copies of his first album, removed the booklet, and quickly signed his name across the white space using a sharpie. "How do you spell your name?"

Quinn froze, glancing between Marcus and Nat as if she'd forgotten how. With a nudge from the lion, she approached the table with a giddy laugh in her throat.
"Q.U.I.N.N."
"Got it. Nice name." As Marcus scribbled To Quinn above his autograph, Girl gave him an excited jab with her foot. Rubbing the spot with his other hand, he studied what he'd just written and muttered, "Nice name…"

"Thanks." Quinn swallowed and bashfully brushed hair out of her eyes. "I...picked it myself."
"That's where the best names come from." He slipped the signed booklet back into the CD case and handed it to Quinn. "Marcus was my great-grandfather. I didn't know him, but I wish I had."
After she was handed the signed album, Quinn stared at it for a few heartbeats of dumbfounded silence before clasping it tight to her chest.
"I think you just made her whole year," said Francis. To Nat, he said, "Hey, check outside and see if we have a line going."
"There were a couple people when we got here." Unlocking the front door, she leaned her head through it, balancing on one leg for a brief moment. "Oh yeah. That's a line, alright."

Marcus had done a lot of signings by that point, but he still felt butterflies in his stomach before each one. The thought that so many people had come out just to see him was both exhilarating and terrifying. He took a moment to smooth down his hair, tie back his ears with an elastic band, and checked that his protruding belly hadn't caught any unnoticed stains.
"I think we're ready for doors," Francis said to him. "Need anything before we start?"
He was about to answer No, but half a can of Sprite and a squished bladder made him suddenly change his mind.
"Can you show me the bathroom, first?"
"Yeah, yeah, totally. Follow me." Francis paused as Marcus rolled back from the table, looking at the rabbit's bump like he'd forgotten it was there. "Uh...you need a hand?"

"Thanks," Marcus wheezed, taking the panda's hand to be helped to his feet. He wasn't normally one to accept help, but the third trimester had changed that for him. Marcus followed Francis through a door behind the register, down labyrinthine hallways, and to a tiny bathroom that would've looked right at home on an airplane.
"We don't have anything for customers, but this one's for employees," Francis said, as if asking a rabbit nine months pregnant with twins to squeeze into what barely amounted to an outhouse was doing him a favor.
"Sweet. Thanks." Marcus said through his teeth. "Be just a minute."
"Take your time. TP's in the cabinet above the toilet. Oh, and the door doesn't lock." Francis turned to leave, then abruptly glanced back. "Oh, and you might have to jiggle the handle if it gets hung up."
"I'm sure I can figure it out." Marcus waved, desperate for him to leave before he pissed himself.

The bathroom looked too small for the rabbit to turn around inside of as he was nearly as wide as he was tall. Instead, Marcus was forced to waddle backwards through the doorway, imagining in his head the beep beep beep of a semi truck backing up. Tugging the door closed with a hard yank, he was finally able to sit on the toilet, his belly only millimeters from the opposite wall.
This sucks, Marcus texted to their family group chat, knowing that neither Eddie nor Nick would be awake. Get a bath going around 4.
Hauling himself to his feet, he flushed the toilet with his foot and went to wash his hands. Glancing up, Marcus caught his reflection in the mirror and realized he looked exactly how he felt. Wetting his fingers, he ran them through his hair to get some of the curly stragglers to lay flat. He did the same with the fur of his face, splashing water from his cupped palms until he could flash a presentable smile.

"What's up?" Marcus said to his reflection, casually flipping back a lock of dark hair. "Thanks a lot for coming. Who am I makin' this out to?"
He mimed signing his name across the air and handed it back to the mirror with a grin. "Stay cool, bro. Stay safe, bro. Stay...ugh, no." Grumbling, Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. It had been a while since he'd done one of these. Reflexively, his hand landed atop his baby bump and it struck him just how impossible it was to ignore.

"Oh, this?" he said to his reflection with a faux-casual shrug. "It's nothing. I'm just straight-up about to blow with a pair of my big-ass husband's twins. You know how it is."
One of the aforementioned twins, as if in encouragement, gave their father a gentle poke beneath his hand. Marcus felt that melty feeling again, the one that made his tears roll in hot streams down his cheeks if he wasn't careful.
"Alright," he said with a quick breath before flipping the light off and opening the flimsy door. "Let's do this."

Marcus found his way back to the front of the store by following the light. Stepping out into it, he was startled by a sudden chorus of cheers, forcing his ears to jolt upright. The employees of Satellite Records had opened the doors while Marcus was on the can and allowed a small crowd to start forming a line ahead of the signing table. Flashing his practiced smile, he waved to his fans while Francis hurried to his side.
"Everything good? You ready?"
"Yep." Marcus touched his belly. "I think we're all pretty settled."
The red panda hesitated, mouth half-open, and seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say. Taking a half-step closer, he muttered to Marcus, "Hey, so. Uh. Are your...Are your kids gonna be born...like...soon?"
It was Marcus's turn to hesitate, but only so he could temper his response. "...Kind of."
"So, do we need to...I mean, do you want us to have, like, a medic or an EMT around in case you...uh...In case they come early?"
Over his shoulder, Marcus caught sight of Nat as she set out the table display. Her ear twitched and she turned, giving Francis's back a sour glare as she overheard the conversation. Marcus definitely felt a little condescended to, but also sensed good intentions from the red panda.

"No," he said, flatly. "I'll be fine."
"Cool. Right. Sweet." Francis nodded, gave Marcus a double thumbs-up, then hurried away to help Quinn manage the line.
As Marcus waddled to his chair, Nat leaned over him and muttered. "Sorry about that. Francis means well, but...he's a kid."
"I wasn't offended," Marcus said, keeping to himself just how close his due date really was.
"Still, you know what your body's telling you." Nat flashed a toothy smile before opening a can with a sharp crack and setting it down in front of him. "If you need somebody with some experience in this, just say the word."

She helped Marcus settle into his chair, gave him a wink, then left to man the store's register. Having her around did a lot to put the rabbit's mind at ease. Glancing at the drink, Marcus frowned, rolled his eyes, then took a sip. Peach-flavored Perrier. Good enough.
Glancing up at Nat, he gestured to the door and gave her a nod and a thumbs up. She returned the gesture, then stepped outside to say something to the gathered crowd. A cheer went up among them, made up of more voices than Marcus had expected.

Fame had crept up on him over the years. He'd only started to make music because he enjoyed it, for its own sake. The thought that other people might love it just as much as he did never occurred to him. Then, all of a sudden, he was signed to a major label, playing sold-out shows, and had gotten coveted spots at world-famous festivals. He'd struggled with fan interactions in the past until he'd gotten a piece of advice from a musician much more famous than him: 'Five minutes of your time can make someone else's entire year.' That put everything into perspective.
The beginning of the line, the dedicated fans that had been there since early that morning, were allowed to step inside the shop. On catching sight of Marcus, they chittered among themselves and waved excitedly. It helped his self-esteem. They didn't care that he was bloated like a tick, that his ankles were swollen and sore, that he had to eat his pre-pregnancy body weight at every meal just to keep up with the pair of enormous twins that maybe should've already been born by now. They just saw Marcus Blackhare.

First in line was a lanky teen fox girl who scrambled up to the table like a clumsy spider. She collided with it, pushing it slightly toward Marcus and making him jump.
"Oh my God," she gasped, her tail whipping behind her in excitement. "Hey! Hi! Oh my God, you're really here, you're really here."
"I sure am. So far, anyway." Marcus realized his answer didn't really make much sense, but it sounded smooth enough to satisfy the girl. With an excited yip, she slung her worn backpack off her shoulder and began digging through it, taking out a small pile of merchandise – CDs, vinyl, art prints, and t-shirts – all of Marcus.
"Oh wow. You really...wow." Marcus scratched under his ear and sorted through the pile of memorabilia, feeling uneasy as he looked at so many iterations of his own face. Did the girl want him to sign all of this? His wrist would be cramping by the end of the hour if he did.

"Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry, I couldn't really decide on what to bring so I just kinda...brought...all of it." The girl laughed breathlessly and began wringing her tail in her hands. Marcus regained his composure and gave the fox an easy smile as he spread the pile across the table.
"I like this one." He picked up a copy of his first album's Japanese printing. It had a couple extra demo tracks that the American printing didn't, plus the album art was more clean and sleek. Marcus tapped his flat stomach in the photo and added, "Back when I was a lot thinner."

The girl laughed again, but seemed unsure of how to respond. It made Marcus himself feel a bit more at ease to acknowledge the obvious, his advanced pregnancy, rather than pretend it wasn't there. Taking advantage of the lapse in conversation, Marcus opened the CD case, took out the inner lining, and popped the cap on one of his many black Sharpies.
"Who am I making this out to?"
"Joanna!" The girl chirped. "My name's Joanna."
Marcus paused. Something about the name struck him. At the same time, one of the twins – it felt like the girl – gave him as sharp a kick as they could manage from the cramped confines of his belly.
"Joanna. That's really pretty. Do you ever go by 'Joan?'"
"No, but some of my friends call me Jo."

With a slow nod, he scribbled To my friend, Jo above his own well-practiced autograph. Slipping the art back into the jewel case, he passed it back to the girl, who blurted out a kind of half-formed, excited gasp before bounding away from the table with her tail fanning behind her like a boat propeller. Marcus couldn't help but smile at that. The expression 'Don't meet your heroes' always lingered in his mind during meet-and-greet events and he was determined not to let it come true.

Leaning back, the flimsy chair creaked worryingly under his extra weight as he stretched, reaching both arms high above his head. He landed his hands, as per usual, atop his belly, massaging his fingers into the sore spots pulled far-too-tight by the pair of twins so, so ready to come out.
"Joanna," he mumbled under his breath, pondering. "Joan. Hm."

The rabbit's ears twitched once he noticed Francis watching him pensively from beside the table. He glanced to the head of the line and raised an eyebrow. Marcus realized he was silently asked if he was ready for the next guest in line, a tall, long-haired dog in a colorful baja hoodie and basketball shorts. Taking the opportunity to sip his water, Marcus gave him a nod and waved the guy forward.
"Brooooo." The hippie drew out the word like a long gasp. "Bro. You're legit fuckin' Marcus Blackhare."
"Last time I checked," Marcus laughed. The dog was terminally high, the smell of weed so strong he could practically see it. Rather than annoyed, he found himself a little jealous. Nine months felt like a long time without being able to get baked now and then.
"Bro, your shit – Bro, I swear to God, your shit got me through so much shit, you have no idea."
"You're right, I don't." Marcus reached a hand out. "What's your name?"
"Nathan, bro. Nathan Fallin." Instead of shaking it, Nathan roughly clasped Marcus's hand before giving it an awkward, one-sided fist bump. "Bro, I saw your set at fuckin' Electric Forest back in like 2018 and I've been straight obsessed ever since. I got a whole playlist for when I gotta work the dish pit."

"Wow, I didn't think anybody would've remembered me from Electric Forest. That was a while ago." Feeling that Nathan would happily chat his ears off for the next hour if he could, Marcus pulled the cap off his sharpie and spun it deftly between his fingers. "Got anything I can sign?"
"Oh..." Nathan blinked dimly at Marcus, his wagging tail drooping down. "Nah, bro. I listen to everything on Spotify."
"That's cool, that's cool." Marcus picked up a pair of the albums displayed on the table beside him. "We've got some merch for sale right here."
"I don't got a CD player."

"Oh. Uh." Marcus hesitated, unsure of what to say next. He stole another glance toward Francis, who didn't seem to have much more of a handle on the situation than he did. Fortunately, Nathan soon approached the table and picked up one of the old tour posters.
"This is dope, though. I know just where this is gonna go." Reaching into his hoodie pocket, Nathan pulled out a fistful of one dollar bills and began slowly counting them one-by-one.
"Bro, hey, listen," Marcus interrupted, holding a hand out. "I'm gonna go ahead and sign this for you, then you can pay my buddy Francis over here."
"You're gonna sign it?" Nathan's jaw dropped as his bloodshot eyes grew wide. "Bro. That's like...fuck, bro."

"Is Nathan spelled the way it sounds?" Marcus began to scribble his signature across the blank space of the poster, then paused. "...You ever go by 'Nate?'"
"Nah, bro. Nobody but my dad calls me Nathan."
"What d'you go by?"
"My buds call me 'Big Stinky.'"
Marcus paused, the tip of his sharpie hovering an inch above the poster, then wrote, To my bro, Nathan.
'Big Stinky' took the signed poster like it was a gift from God himself, then went to pay Francis with his fistful of cash. In the moment he had to himself, Marcus cupped a hand over his mouth and muttered to his unborn children, "No pot until you turn eighteen."
He felt movement, possibly a kick in protest. It occurred to him that during his interaction with Nathan, not once had his impending fatherhood come up. Perhaps the dog simply didn't know, but maybe he didn't care. Either way, it was nice to be reminded that his pregnancy didn't need to dominate every conversation. It certainly had to the media. Marcus had seen a big growth to his popularity after announcing his pregnancy and it was something he had mixed feelings about.
"Hey, Francis?" Marcus waved him down once he was finished with 'Big Stinky.' "Could I get something to write on?"

Francis retreated behind the register and returned with a half-used notepad of lined paper. With his sharpie, Marcus split the page into two columns. At the top of one, he drew a circle with an upward pointing arrow – male – and above the other, a circle with a crossed line below it – female. He then wrote the name Nathan in the male column and Joanna in the female column. The line ahead of him was long and there were lots and lots of names to sign. He might as well make use of them. Marcus wondered what his fans would think of their names being quietly stolen to name his twins. A little sneaky, but he'd have been flattered if the roles were reversed.

The meet-and-greet went on smoothly, progressing at a good click. His fans' excitement at meeting him face-to-face was infectious enough to improve his bad mood. He even agreed to pose for a few pictures, something he'd resolved not to do after waking up frumpy and irritable. He compromised by staying seated for each photo. Some of his fans congratulated him on his pregnancy, a few were a bit too curious about it, but most never even mentioned it. They talked about music, about the shows they'd seen him perform, about what his work meant to them. Marcus doubted any of them knew what that meant to him, in turn. The past few months had been dominated by conversations of babies, childcare, and the ever-changing state of his own body. It was refreshing to be reminded that parenthood wasn't the only thing in his life.

However, that wasn't to say it wasn't still on his mind. He'd gotten into a habit of asking each fan their name to personalize their autograph, only to then quietly scribble it under one of the columns. Being a queer musician meant he attracted several fans of indeterminate gender, so Marcus created a third column of unisex names on a separate page.

One interaction in particular stayed with him. After returning to the table from what felt like his five thousandth bathroom break, Marcus found the next fans in line were a pair of rabbits like himself, a mother and daughter. The young rabbit looked to be around nine or ten, the youngest fan he'd seen that day, and her mother seemed to be in her late thirties, a good bit older than Marcus.
"Just a second," he told them with a wave after waddling back to his chair with heavy footsteps, checking to make sure his shirt was still covering enough of his belly to seem decent.
"Take your time," the rabbit woman said with a smirk. "I know what that's like. I had twins my second time around."
Once Marcus had settled back in his chair (despite how much it creaked, he was surprised and grateful it had survived the day), he smoothed down the wrinkles on his shirt, stretched his fingers, and allowed himself a quick sigh before waving over the girl and her mother.

The young bunny bounded over the short distance with enough speed to collide with the edge of the table, shifting it a few inches toward Marcus. He jumped back a little, instinctively protecting his belly with his hands.
"Olivia," the girl's mother scolded, hurrying up beside her.
"Suh-sorry," Olivia stammered, flipping her ears back in a similar way that Marcus managed his own.
"No worries," he said with a chuckle. Reaching as far across the table as he could manage, he invited her to give him a fist bump. "What's up, little cottontail?"
Marcus surprised himself by using an old nickname from his own childhood, but there was much about the little rabbit girl that reminded him of himself. The beanie, the long hair, the baggy clothing, and enjoying music she may have been a bit too young for. Olivia's eyes sparkled, half-hidden beneath her hat, as she returned Marcus's fist bump.

"H-Hey," she said, her voice mumbling a little as she spoke through a half-open mouth.
"Speak up so he can hear you," the girl's mother said. Marcus noticed Olivia's jaw tighten as her mother spoke.
"I can hear you just fine," he told her. "Olivia, right? I'm Marcus. I really appreciate you coming out to see me."
"Sure." She swallowed and licked her lips anxiously. "I...I really love your music."
"I'm happy to hear that it. Do you have a favorite song?"
"I...uh..." Olivia glanced away bashfully, her eyes briefly lingering on Marcus's bump before turning them back upward. "I really like to listen to 'Plastic Roses' when it gets really late and I can't sleep."
"Oh yeah? Does it work?"
"Sometimes."
"I made a few tracks for my husband to listen to when he gets anxiety. I'll probably release the-HIC."

Marcus was suddenly interrupted by a hard, unexpected kick by one of his kids, which had caused him to violently hiccup. Olivia jumped. With a grunt, Marcus leaned back, putting a hand against his suddenly-active belly. He'd been leaning forward to talk to Olivia and one of the twins, he assumed the girl, had gotten sick of being squished and was putting up a fuss about it.
"Sorry, she's pretty social." He glanced up to find Olivia gazing with fascination at his shifting belly. When the two met eyes again, Marcus surprised himself yet again by moving his hand to the side of his bump and asking, "Do you want to feel?"

The girl swallowed again, glanced at her mother, then gave Marcus a quick nod as she rounded the table.
"They're both flipped upside-down right now since they're almost ready to be born." Turning to the side in the chair, Marcus leaned back and prodded the upper-left corner of his belly, where he was feeling a very stubborn little foot that was refusing to move. With a little poking, he was able to convince the baby bunny to begin kicking again, the movement clearly visible against the overtaxed fabric of his stretched shirt.

Olivia watched silently for a few minutes, then reached out her thin hand, fingers spread wide, and rested her palm atop his rounded stomach. The baby stirred almost instantly at the girl's touch, making her and Marcus both jump at the same time. Olivia jerked her hand back like she'd burned it on a hot stove, but let out an exhilarated giggle at the same time.

"She really likes you," said Marcus, sharing in her laughter. His daughter's movement had disturbed her twin brother, making him shift around for what little comfort was to be found in the cramped confines of the womb. When Marcus prompted Olivia to feel, he glanced up and noticed the crowd watching them. While they didn't seem impatient at the delay – some were even taking pictures –Marcus didn't want to forget they were there.
"Hey, Olivia?" The girl looked up, her attention diverted from his belly. "You got anything for me to sign?"
With a broad smile that squished her entire face, Olivia nodded hard enough to make her ears swing, then ran back to her mother, snatching the plastic shopping bag from her hand.
"You're welcome," she scoffed.

Returning to the table, Olivia removed from the bag a brand-new copy of Marcus's first album on vinyl, still shrink wrapped in plastic with a Wal-Mart sticker in the corner.
"Very cool," Marcus said, taking the album and laying it in front of him. "I love seeing kids getting into vinyl. I hope mine do."
"She just got her older brother's record player," Olivia's mother said. "The youngest gets plenty of hand-me-downs, so she was insistent on getting her own record."

"Well, it's a good choice," Marcus said with a sly grin. With the girl's permission, he removed the plastic and picked up the gold sharpie. He paused, a thought crossing his mind. "Hey, you ever go by 'Olive?'"
"No. But...could you...could you s-sign it to...'Via?'" The final word was so quiet that Marcus had to lean in to hear. When he did, he gave the girl a warm smile, then signed the record, 'To my friend, Via.'
After handing it back to a delighted Olivia, Marcus discreetly wrote her name under the 'girl' column of his personal list. Looking up, he made eye contact with the girl's mother, who gave him a nod and a knowing smile.

"Still coming up with names?" she asked. "I've been there. I'm Carla, if you wanna throw that into the mix."
"That I will." Marcus wrote the name under Olivia's, but knew it didn't strike him the same way. He sighed and rubbed his belly, thinking about the pair of strangers inside it. "I'll figure it out eventually."
"The good thing is that whatever you don't use this time, becomes an option for the next time."
"Not so sure there'll be a next time. Having twins the first go-around is enough for me."
"So it is twins! I can always tell, especially on first-timers." Carla gestured between herself and Marcus. "But trust me, rabbit to rabbit, you're going to want more. My mother always told me, 'We never stop at one.' I hate to admit it, but six kids later, I gotta say she was right."

Marcus gave her a nod and a polite smile, but, inside, he was reeling. Six kids? The fact that his house would soon have five people in it was already daunting, but the thought of that many children made him tired just to think about it. It also explained Olivia's demeanor. It must've been hard to feel seen as the youngest of that many, especially if any of her older siblings were as forthcoming as her mother. It made him happy to think that the album he'd just signed was hers, and only hers.

And yet, as Marcus watched Olivia and Carla leave together, hand-in-hand, he drummed his fingers across his belly and started to feel gooey inside. Didn't the idea of a big family sound...nice? It would be a lot of work, but the thought of coming home to a big, lively house full of energetic little bunnies that looked just a little bit like himself and the two men he loved more than anyone else in the world had its appeal. Even now, as his pregnancy neared its end, he found himself a little sad for it all to be over.

As Marcus's eyes lazily drifted into the distance, he found them meeting Francis's. The two gave each other a blank stare for several seconds before Marcus jerked upright, suddenly remembering where he was and what he was doing.
"Oh. Right, the...the everything." He shook his head, drained the last of his sparkling water, and re-adjusted in a futile attempt to get comfortable. "My bad. I'm good."
"Baby brain, right?" Nat appeared over his shoulder, taking away the empty can and swapping it with a full one. "It gets all of us."
"I forgot the word for 'vacuum' the other day," he sighed. "I called it the 'sucky hose.'"

"I once swapped a box of cereal with the ice cream while I was having cravings. The next morning, we had frozen Cap'n Crunch and a very sticky cabinet."
Marcus laughed, prompting another series of kicks, this time from both twins and in opposite directions.
"Need anything else?" Nat asked.
With one hand dedicated to soothing his unborn children, Marcus spun the pen in the other hand and asked, "How do you spell your name?"

"N.A.T.A.L.I.E." The lion leaned over the table and watched Marcus scribble her name under the 'Girl' column. She understood immediately what it was for. "Wow, you really might name your daughter after me?"
"It depends," said Marcus. He prodded his fingers into his middle, searching by touch for where the girl was sitting. "I need to get a look at her face-to-face, first. See if it fits."
"Not a bad idea. Better than using family names. Y'know what my son is named?"
"What?"
"Dwayne."
"That's not bad."
"Y'know what his middle name is?"
"What?"
"Throckmorton."
"Oh my God."

As Nat left, Marcus took a moment to add the other employees of Satellite Records. He couldn't see naming either of his kids Francis or Quinn, but it was good to have options. Afterwards, he gave Francis a short nod to get the line moving again.

The signing was supposed to only last two hours at the most, but the line was still trailing out the door by that time. Marcus hated the idea of sending so many people home empty-handed and agreed to stay an extra forty-five minutes. With his due date fast approaching, this would likely be his last public appearance for a long while, so he might as well meet as many people as he could. Besides, he still had a list to fill out.
As the event went on, Marcus felt himself relax. He chatted with his fans, talked about music, and signed enough autographs to fill a book. Some of them brought up the pregnancy and he grew more comfortable talking about it. A few he even allowed to feel the twins kicking, though they were purely vibes-based decisions. A few of them got a little too weird about it.

If his mood was the only factor, Marcus would've kept the event going all day. But, by the end of that extra forty-five minutes, his already overtaxed body was screaming in discomfort. His extra weight was causing the folding chair to dig into the sides of his ass, so he decided to stand for the last half-hour of the signing. This caused his swollen ankles to throb after only a few minutes and made it even more difficult to reach the table. A few autographs he had to sign by balancing them atop his belly. This was already hard enough to do before the twins got cranky and turned it into a moving surface. The snacks their father had been nibbling were no longer sufficient. They wanted a meal and they were prepared to fight for it. So, at their insistence, Marcus called it a day and Satellite Records closed its doors a little after three in the afternoon.

"Oooooouuugh God," groaned Marcus. He stretched, then immediately felt a painful twinge in his lower back that he brought his hands to. He wondered how sitting in a chair and signing his name had taken so much out of him, but accepted that, this late into his third trimester, mere existence was a struggle.
"Thanks for hanging in there," Nat said. She had turned the table on its side and was folding its legs in.
"I had fun, but my body's at its limit." Marcus felt another sharp jab from a small, impatient foot. "Plus, the kids are bossing me around."
"They'll keep doing that even after they're out of you. Get used to it."

Francis stumbled out of the back office to grab another of the boxes of leftover merch. Most of what was unsold would go back to the promoter, but they had paid wholesale for a box of Marcus's albums for him to sign. The autographed records would be sold at a markup and the store would make a killing. Francis was over the moon about it.
"This went really well!" The red panda beamed, his smile infectious. "This is the biggest event we've ever had by, like, double."
"What else do you do here?"
"Album releases for local bands. Open mic nights. Stuff like that." Francis made an explosion gesture with his hands. "You blew all of it out of the water. I've never seen a line that big before, not here."
"Well, you've got a nice place. It deserves the attention."
"I would buy you a drink if you weren't...well, you know."
"Gimee the rest of the sparkling waters and we'll call it even."

As Francis carried a box of the remaining t-shirts away, Nat stepped closer to Marcus and leaned in so she wouldn't be overheard.
"It really means a lot that you came. The shop is Francis's baby and... Well, he keeps the lights on, but the business isn't spectacular. We really needed something big to get people in the door."
"I gotta be honest, I really wasn't looking forward to this." Marcus let out a weary sigh and rubbed the underside of his belly. "Especially now. But I had a good time. I'm glad I made the effort."
"I told Francis not to hold his breath about you showing up. Not when I found out how far along you were."
"How did you find out?"
Nat gestured over her shoulder with a thumb. "Quinn pulled up your Instagram the other day."

"Oh. Right." Marcus smiled bashfully. While spending most of his time at home, awaiting the twins' arrival, he’d taken to using his phone to entertain himself. He made himself a silent reminder to delete most of that when he got home.
"Just be sure to put up a photo of those two once they finally decide to join us out here." Nat flashed a toothy grin. "I'll be watching."
Once everything was packed away in the back and Marcus had signed all the extra albums, he took the time to browse the store while he had it all to himself. There was a simple, irreplaceable joy to searching through record stores that Marcus couldn't resist, in spite of how awkward it was to move himself through it. His discoveries included one of those rare Yellow Magic Orchestra albums, a special edition of Porter Robinson's Nurture, and an interesting record by an artist going by the name 'Mirror Kisses.' Francis was overjoyed to check him out and could have easily talked his ears off about music for the rest of the day. Marcus might have indulged him had the twins' kicking not graduated from 'insistent' to 'demanding.'

The afternoon air was still warm, but with a slight chill that made the fur on Marcus's arms stand up when he stepped out the back door. With his albums tucked under his arm, he took a moment to breathe in the fresh air. From his back pocket, he removed the list of names he'd been amassing all day, scanning over them with a more discerning eye. Suddenly, the faint smell of artificial cherries distracted him, making him glance up with his nose twitching.
Standing beside the back door was Quinn, her vape pen dangling from her pursed lips. The white earbuds she had in held her attention as she broke down cardboard boxes with a razor knife. It took a few seconds for her to notice Marcus was there.
"Oh. Oh shit. Oh my God." She scrambled to put away her vape, exhaling a faint, half-inhaled cloud from her nostrils. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even- I had no idea you were there."
"No worries." Marcus's eyes lingered on the vape in Quinn's fingers and sighed. "I am going to get so high after the kids are born."

Quinn stared at him in disbelief for a minute, taking off guard, but allowed herself an awkward giggle and said, "Hell yeah, dude."
"I'm gonna get high, eat more sushi than anyone on Earth, and take a nap on my stomach." Marcus closed his eyes and smiled at the imagined pleasure, then remembered he was in the middle of a conversation. "So, you were the one that put this all together?"
"Uh...y-yeah. I did a lot of planning and calling around and...all that." Quinn put the vape and knife in her pocket and wrung her hands together once they were free. "You...Your music means a lot to me. It helped me um..." She laughed again and gestured to herself. "It helped me become me."

Marcus opened his mouth to say 'thank you,' an automatic response to the wave of compliments he usually got at events like these, but something stopped him. A lump in his throat. A tugging feeling in his heart. It was the best compliment he'd ever gotten about his music.
"That...makes me really happy," he managed to choke out.
Quinn's eyes glanced to the notepad in Marcus's hand. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to- You were in the middle of something."
"It's fine. I was just thinking." Marcus sniffed and wiped his eyes before glancing back to his list. "I don't have names picked out for the twins yet. I was hoping I could decide today."
"Have you?"
Marcus clicked his tongue. "Hm. Maybe her name." He touched his free hand to where his son was sitting. "But I haven't decided on his yet."

Quinn tapped her fingers together, biting her lip. "Well...how about Gabriel?"
Every thought in Marcus's head came to a screeching thought. The name, Gabriel, bounced around the inside of his hollow skull. A small, nudging movement came from the baby under his hand, and the thought that it came from Gabriel felt so completely, perfectly right.
"...I really like that." He stroked his middle. "Gabe. Short for Gabriel." Looking back to Quinn, he asked, "Can I use it?"
"Y-yeah. Please." Quinn laughed breathlessly and added, "It's not like I need it anymore."

The two talked a while longer before saying their goodbyes. Marcus waddled back to the car and hauled himself inside, feeling lighter than air. Sitting by himself in the car, he leaned back in his seat, hands roaming his bump as he muttered to himself.
"Gabriel. Gabe. Gabriel and...Gabriel and..."
He frowned, furrowing his brow with his eyes clenched shut. It was already a hard enough to name a single child and he had to come up with two. Covering his eyes with both hands, he groaned into the empty car.
"Gabriel. Gabriel and his sister...Gabriel and... Gabe and...Olive."
Marcus snapped his eyes open. The name had come to his lips on its own, filling the empty space perfectly. Gabe and Olive. Gabriel and Olive Blackhare.
"Gabe and Olive," he said again, liking how it rolled off the tongue. Glancing down to his belly, nearly eclipsing the steering wheel, he asked it, "What do you guys think?"
The twins, in almost perfect unison, lightly kicked. Marcus grinned.

"So do I. Let's go see what your dads think." Marcus sat up and buckled his seatbelt, resting a protective hand over Gabe and Olivia. "And if they don't like 'em, it's three against two."