Almost done! This thing has seven chapters! After that, I'm KINDA gonna need help choosing what BATMM story to write next XD

Enjoy!

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Crusher and Pickle's engagement was private to everyone (even with the golden tire ring showing. Pickle excused it as wanting to wear some tire jewelry) but Crusher's Grammy, who was SO happy that she couldn't stop hugging them, and Pickle's entire family, who were so excited that they immediately threw an engagement party to celebrate. Neither trucks minded, though. They were glad to have support from both families (mostly Pickle's, of course).

By seven months, Crusher and Pickle went back to the doctor to know their baby's gender. They could've done that earlier, like... by four or five months, but Crusher was held up in a couple of races (which Pickle had insisted that he should attend to not gain suspicion from the other racers), and he DID NOT want to miss finding out his little one's gender.

When they got to the doctor, however, the baby gave THEM a BIG surprise.

"TWINS?!" Both their jaws dropped in shock. They CLEARLY weren't expecting THAT.

"Yes, twins!" the doctor happily repeated with a nod as she raised the picture for them to see. "Congratulations!"

"But... But how?!" Crusher stammered. "O-On the first month... one... w-what...?!"

"That's why Pickle should have come to me by his fourth month," the doctor shook her head. "On your first trimester, your body realized that the child was too big to deliver all at once, so it decided to give your child a twin before the fetus developed completely,"

"Woah... twins..." Pickle looked like he was about to faint. "I.. oh, my head..."

He began to drive backwards, prompting Crusher to grab him before he fell over. The doctor chuckled, placing a reassuring tire on the green truck.

"It's alright, Pickle," she told him. "Both babies are healthy and growing fine. Sure, the labor would be a little harder than it should be, but they're still healthy," She then placed the picture in a brown envelope and activated the x-ray again. "Do you want to see their genders now?"

Crusher and Pickle exchanged glances before turning to the doctor with a smile and a nod. She nodded in response and called for Crusher to come to her to leave Pickle under the x-ray. She showed the dark blue truck the black and white screen, her tire pointing to the small trucks forming inside of the green truck as she narrowed her eyes to observe and check.

"Ah, there ya go," the doctor took the screenshot and wrote down the notes. "Congratulations! One boy and one girl,"

"One boy?! One girl?!" Crusher gasped as the x-ray was turned off.

"YAY! YIPEE!" Pickle cheered, driving towards the other with the biggest smile on his face. "We have twin! And both genders! Isn't that amazing?!"

"It's... It's fantastic!" Crusher lifted Pickle into his tires (still keep remembering that they're trucks) and swung him around. "We have TWINS! WE'RE GONNA BE PARENTS OF TWINS!"

"I'm gonna call Grandpa!" Pickle cried out, taking out his phone. "And I'm gonna call all of my sisters and cousins!"

"And I'm gonna tell Grammy!" Crusher took out his phone too. "They're all gonna be SO surprised,"

And surprised they were. When the engaged trucks came back home, they were greeted with yet another celebration, this time to congratulate them with the twins and giving them more things they needed (twins meant two babies, after all).

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Soon, it was eight months. Crusher was hitting a panic mode, by then.

Since the discover of the twins, he had been extra, EXTRA careful. EXTRA protective too. Any chore that Pickle couldn't do and struggled to do because of the twins was Crusher's to do, and he had no complain. In fact, he began to do almost all of the chores (much to Pickle's own surprise) in the house. He even went grocery shopping by himself if it meant that Pickle would be safe and resting.

Grammy came by and helped every once and a while. So would Pickle's sisters and cousins. Lilly and Milly always offered to help with building and decorating the twins' room while Tilly and Frilly always offered to fix up whatever meal Pickle wanted because of his cravings whenever Crusher was out doing another chore or forced into another race (by Pickle, of course). Ben, Ken and Sven always offered clean the whole house, whenever they came by, not a spot dirty or messed up once their done.

This lessened Crusher's load a bit, but it didn't stop him from worrying. Worrying over how Pickle is doing, worrying over the twins, worrying over how obvious they were becoming, worrying over the other racers' reactions if they were to ever find out... he was really worrying about everything and anything lately. Not even Grammy's reassurance or Grandpa Pickle's efforts to distract him worked. Not even Gherkin (who was about four or five years old by then. This is five years since Blaze and AJ came to Axle City, remember?) could get the dark blue truck to stop worrying.

"Crusher, will you calm down?" Pickle sighed and patted the dark blue truck comfortingly.

"Pickle, you're eight months and almost ready to give birth. To TWINS, I may add," Crusher pointed out with a hiss. "You might be in labor in any second!"

"Crusher-" Pickle was cut off, however, when he felt something kick him. "Oh my,"

"WHAT?" Crusher looked panicked already, eyes wide and tires all shaky. "WHAT'S HAPPENING?! WHAT ARE YOU FEELING?! IS THE TWINS?! ARE THEY COMING OUT ALREADY?! ARE-"

"Crusher, SHUSH!" Pickle grabbed the dark blue truck's tire and placed it on his stomach.

Crusher was silent and confused for a moment until he felt a kick. "Oh my... is that...?"

"Uh-huh," Pickle grinned widely and nodded. "They're saying hi to their daddy!"

"Aww!" Crusher bent down to feel the kicking intensify. "Daddy's here, little ones! Oh yes, he is. Yes, he is!"

Pickle sighed in relief. At least he knew that among all of them, only the kids could distract their father from stress and worry.

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Two weeks later, Crusher had three races in the Monster Dome to attend that afternoon. Of course, he wasn't sure about attending. There were three races in a row, with only a few minutes for a break. He would barely have time to get something to eat or drink from the food stands before the next race starts, much less leave the place to take a break or see Pickle.

"Maybe... Maybe I should skip the last race, at least," Crusher suggested.

"Nonsense, Crushy!" Grammy waved him off. "Pickle and I will be fine!"

"Yeah, love," Pickle nodded in agreement, hugging his fiance with a small peck. "We'll be fine, promise!"

"Alright, alright," Crusher let out a shaky breath but nodded and kissed his lover's head. "but if there's ANYTHING that happens, call me, alright?"

"We will, we will," Grammy assured her grandson with a smile. "We would only be in the hospital for Pickle's monthly check-up on the twins. Nothing too serious,"

"Alright..." Crusher sighed as they drove out of the house.

But something in his gut told him that the day was going to be anything but calm...

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"Hello again, Pickle," the doctor greeted as the green truck entered the room with Grammy. "Ready to check on the twins?"

"Yes!" Pickle grinned excitedly. "I can't wait to see them! They've been squirming around too much in there, and I wanna see what they're up to!"

"Are they, now?" the doctor's eyes widened. "Oh! That means that they're almost ready,"

"To come out? Already?" Grammy looked surprised. "Aren't they two weeks too early?"

"Yes... but it's natural for it to be at least a few weeks early," the doctor replied as she led them out into the halls. "Or if it's a week late. We won't know for sure until we see their positions,"

"Ah, okay-ow," Pickle hissed, a tire on his stomach as he stopped at the strange feeling. "Ow... that hurt..."

"Really?" the doctor turned to him and placed a tire on his shoulder. "How bad is the pain?"

"Really, really- OW!" Pickle yelped, the feeling returning as he felt something sip down from his back legs. "Ack! It's worse than the other contractions!"

"Oh no," the doctor gulped and took out her phone. "I'm calling the emergency room!"

"Oh dear..." Grammy held the green truck for support. "Hold on there, Pickle, dear..."

"I CAN'T!" Pickle gasped, taking in deep breaths. "AAH! IT HURTS SO MUCH!"

Suddenly, truck nurses rushed into the hallway. One rolled a huge bed over, scooping Pickle up and taking him to the emergency. Grammy watched with concern before taking out her phone to tell her grandson the news.

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Crusher swallowed as he prepared for the race. He was worried and all panicky, looking around and checking the time every now and again, wishing that time would be faster.

But it wasn't any of the races he was nervous about. He was worried about Pickle. And the twins. And how they were doing. And if the twins were ready to come out yet. And if Pickle would be able to survive the labor-

"Crusher?"

Said dark blue truck yelped at the tire that suddenly his shoulder. He then turned to see Blaze and AJ looking over at him with concern.

"You okay?"

He hurriedly removed the tire and huffed, trying to hide his nerves. "Y-Yeah. I'm fine,"

"You sure?" Blaze tilted his head. "You look a little... nervous,"

"Me? Nervous? Ha!" Crusher rolled his eyes and began to drive away from the red truck. "Y-You wish! I'm just... I'm just SO impatient! Like, when's the race gonna start?!"

AJ and Blaze looked unconvinced by the response, their concerned expressions only worsening. Crusher PRAYED that they would just shrug off his strange attitude, but alas, luck was not by his side.

"Hey, Crusher, where's Pickle?"

Crusher froze. 'Okay, okay, what do I tell them? We would always worry on what would they say if I missed a race, but we were never prepared to ask when PICKLE misses a race! Oh no, what do I say?! What do I tell them?!'

Before his mouth could process any answer, his phone rang. He sighed in relief and took it out.

"Sorry, gotta go!" he turned to drive off. "My Grammy's calling!"

He didn't hear them following him, thank goodness, as he made his way out of the dome and into an alley. He took a deep breath and opened his phone to answer the call.

"Grammy? Grammy, what's wrong?! What happened?!"

["Crushy, it's Pickle,"] his Grammy's voice digitally rang through his phone. ["He... He's in labor,"]