From down the hall, the bathroom was anything but peaceful. The sound of water sloshing echoed like a flood was underway, mixed with the unmistakable chaos of giggling, yelling, and the occasional splash that sounded far too dramatic to be safe.

“Stop pushing me!”

“Papa said I get the sponge first!”

“No, I do! You got it yesterday!”

“That’s not fair!!”

Deidara sat in the bathtub behind the two little brats, water already halfway out of the tub from all the kicking and flailing. His long blonde hair was tied up sloppily, strands already damp and sticking to his face as he leaned forward to separate his squabbling sons for the third time.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, his voice rising over the splashes and shrieks. “You two are going to give me a heart attack, I swear. If one of you slips, your mom’s gonna skin me alive.”

The twins froze for half a second before one immediately tried to grab the soap again, and the water surged like a stormy sea.

“Okay, okay! Listen to Papa!” he groaned, reaching out to hold them both still. “I’ll soap you both at the same time, alright??"

Neither boy seemed fully convinced, but the promise of bubbles and equal scrubbing rights seemed to do the trick for now. Deidara leaned back against the tub wall with another sigh, silently wondering how something as simple as bath time could turn into a full blown mission.

He muttered under his breath, “...Art is an explosion, but parenting? That’s straight up warfare.”