Ma was hovering. 

"Eight minutes since your last contraction."

I slammed the tray of biscuits on the counter, harder than I intended, and took a note out of Caspar's book, counting several deep, calming breaths

"Ma. I'm not having a contraction every time I grunt." Even though that had been a contraction.

"You've been having contractions coming and going for three days. You need to be counting."

"Yes, and it's normal. Everything is fine. The babies will come when they're meant to." Which was, in fact, tonight. Not that I was telling Ma too far in advance. She'd have half the family waiting in my living room for the next twelve hours. It was handy having a seer for a mate.

We managed to get through Sunday dinner without killing each other, then as the brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews were headed out, I hid my smile as Ma started puttering around, delaying leaving herself. 

I was a terrible son. I let her putz around for close to an hour, subtly hinting at "when she left" to get her even more agitated. 

She finally gave in and asked what I knew she'd been dying to ask all night. "Don't you think it would be a good idea for us to stay here for a while? Just in case?"

I took a long sip of my water before answering her. Caspar hid behind that soft smirk of his. I still hadn't seen him smile.

Then I finally said, "That would actually be a great idea, because Caspar says the babies are coming tonight."

Ma gasped, pressing her hands to her lips. Then she let loose. "You're a terrible, terrible son Theodore Malcolm Ward! How dare you let me flutter about like that all day without telling me! Oh, we need boiling water. And sheets. And towels. Oh! My kit!"

She flew out of the kitchen, leaving Dad and I laughing. Dad came and wrapped me in a hug. "You handled her well, son."

"Now she'll only drive us half as crazy as if she'd known all day."

* * *

Having triplets at home would have been dangerous for a human, but multiple births were natural for shifters, especially rabbits. 

That didn't make it any less exhausting. Labor started in earnest around nine o'clock that night, and it wasn't until twelve hours later that Iris was born. Kinley and Sturm took their time forty-five minutes later but came within five minutes of each other. 

I took my time holding each of them before falling asleep, trusting my parents and Caspar with the care of our little ones.

When I woke, it was to the most beautiful sight: Caspar sat next to the three bassinets we'd bought, his face lit up in the brightest smile I'd ever seen.

My voice was raspy when I spoke. "If I'd known all it was going to take to get you to smile was babies, I would have had you knock me up sooner."

Caspar looked up startled, and I regretted speaking, as the smile faded. He pressed his fingers to his cheeks and lips, then smiled again. "I think... I had forgotten how. I'll try to do it more, if you like it, love. I can't imagine it's a pretty sight after so long without practice."

I waved him to come to me. I kissed his lips gently, and said, "It's beautiful."

He looked away, abashed. "The babies are beautiful. You did good work, Theo."

I knew Caspar wasn't used to compliments. That was okay. I had a lifetime to teach him to accept them. He deserved them.

One of them let out a tiny, long yawn, and a strange noise escaped Caspar.

“Was that… did you just… giggle?”

Caspar immediately cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That was a giggle. Seriously? Months of trying, and all these little guys have to do is exist and you smile and laugh? It’s just not fair.”

Caspar cuddled up next to me on our bed. “I’ll work on making it a more common occurrence.”

“You better.” I lifted my head so he could slide his arm under my neck in place of my pillow. “I like it.”

“Well, I like you, Theo.”

“That’s just because I’m the father of your children.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Caspar agreed. I elbowed him in the stomach. Not that it even felt like a tickle to him. “Now rest.”

I wasn’t going to argue with that.