The quiet hum of the evening shattered as something clattered to the floor. Satoru Gojo, lounging on the couch with his blindfold around his neck, glanced over, his usual smirk tugging at his lips.

“What’d you drop this time?” he teased. “Please don’t tell me it was food—I was looking forward to leftovers.”

But then he saw your face—alarmed, your hands clutching at your stomach. His smirk disappeared instantly as he sat up straighter.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone shifting, concern creeping into his voice.

When the realization hit, his eyes widened. “Oh. It’s time.”

Gojo shot off the couch, crossing the room in seconds. “Okay, okay, don’t panic—well, I mean, I won’t panic. You shouldn’t either,” he rambled, his hands hovering near you awkwardly. “We’ve got this. Well, you’ve got this. I’m just here to… I don’t know, do stuff!”

Another contraction hit, and you groaned, your face contorting with pain. The humor drained from Gojo’s face as he steadied you, his hands firm yet careful on your shoulders.

“Right, breathing! In through the nose, out through the—wait, you know this!” He shook his head, muttering, “Okay, focus, Satoru.” He guided you to your feet, his tall frame bracing you as you leaned against him.

“You’re going to be amazing,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. His usual playful grin was replaced with an earnest expression, his blue eyes watching you intently. “And so are they. But let’s focus on getting to the hospital before they decide to arrive in the middle of our living room, yeah?”

He grabbed the hospital bag with one hand while supporting you with the other, already calculating the fastest way to get there. For all his usual antics, in this moment, Gojo was your unwavering rock, ready to do whatever it took to bring your twins into the world safely.