Entry tags:

bandslash, panic! at the disco, wtf27

Anatomy
Panic! At The Disco; Brendon Urie/Jon Walker, Ryan Ross/Spencer Smith
R; For the wtf27 challenge prompt number 6: mpreg. Yeah, you read it. Herein lies one pregnant boy, one completely fictional affliction, and a lot of crack. For heartscientist, who did it first, but told me it was okay to do it too. The Ryan/Spencer is for her. Beta by the lovely yankeesdtr.

Timeline is thus: this begins at the end of the Nothing Rhymes With Circus tour and proceeds thusly. I’m fucking around with like, time and life and Brendon is hiding out in that cabin, don’t you know? Info from WebMD and my brain, so don’t be harsh if it’s not completely correct.





Looking back, the first sign that maybe there was something horribly wrong was when his pants stopped fitting.

And sure, there was always a fluctuation of weight going on, he ate too much, his jeans would be a little tighter than then were the day before, but they never ceased to fit.

Until now, at least.

"Ryan," he hissed. Ryan was standing with his elbow braced against the mirror, his pants sliding down his hips and his shirt slung across the back of the chair as he carefully applied the night's makeup. Ryan ignored him. This happened sometimes, when Ryan was in the zone, painting his face up something ridiculous. "Ryan."

"What?" Ryan asked, and he could see Ryan's face in the mirror, his mouth slightly open as he carefully applied eyeliner.

Ryan was going to laugh at him. "My pants won't button," he said. Ryan capped his eyeliner pen and turned around. Then he grinned.

"I told you you shouldn't eat so much candy," Ryan said. "You know, when you get older your metabolism stops working so fast." He flipped Ryan off.

"Fuck you," he said, and flopped down on the couch, stretching out and sucking in his stomach until he could button up his pants like he'd seen his mother do on 'fat' days. He was clearly having a fat day.

He decided that maybe he'd lay off the candy for a while.

***


"I want to go home," Brendon whined. He was almost in tears and Spencer actually felt really sorry for him. He was sitting on the floor, his face pale and sweaty.

"You can't, B," Spencer said, running a washcloth underneath the cold water in the sink and wringing it out before holding it out to Brendon. "You just have to get better."

“Spencer," Brendon moaned at him, shifting and lying down, resting his head against Spencer's thigh. "I have been sick for a week now. I am dying."

"And you'd think you'd be able to fit into your pants better now that you can't eat and can't keep anything down," Spencer said. Brendon sat up sharply.

"I hate you," Brendon said. "You have to leave my bathroom now."

"Brendon, I'm kidding, you--"

“Get out, okay!" Brendon yelled at him. Spencer blinked, and stood up. "Send me Jon Walker! He won't be so insensitive!" Spencer rolled his eyes and left the room.


***


"Do you want me to take you to the doctor?" Jon asked. "I mean, you probably should've gone a couple of days ago, but I'll take you to the emergency room right now if you want to go."

Brendon nodded his head, and Jon helped pull him into a sitting position, and from there, to his feet. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants he'd stolen from Jon.

"Are those mine?" Jon asked, brushing the hair stuck to Brendon's forehead to the side. Brendon nodded.

"Is that okay?" Brendon asked. He looked so pathetic that Jon couldn't help but laugh a little bit.

"No, baby, it's fine," Jon said. He found a hoodie for Brendon to wear and a pair of shoes, and after some rummaging, clean socks. Brendon just sat there, and it was so weird to Jon, because he was used to Brendon's mouth running a mile a minute and Brendon bouncing off the walls, and
now he was silent, laying on the bed staring into space. Or, at the moment, sitting there like a rag doll. Once he was dressed, Jon pulled him to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Spencer asked when he saw them in the hall, Brendon leaning heavily against Jon's side. He looked ill. Still looked ill. Ryan had mentioned to Spencer the evening before that Brendon probably needed to see a doctor, but since Brendon had ripped into Ryan that day and nearly made him cry, Ryan had said nothing to anyone but Spencer.

"Doctor," Jon said, shifting Brendon a little bit. Brendon hitched his hoodie up over his head and buried his face against Jon's chest. Spencer nodded and punched the button for the elevator.


***


The doctor poked and prodded and asked a lot of questions, and by the time they'd even seen a doctor, Brendon had thrown up twice more in the bathroom of the emergency waiting room and was so tired that Jon had to physically hold him up.

"Do you happen to know if your family has any history of Masculine Gestational Syndrome?" the doctor finally asked.

"Of what?" Brendon asked, frowning and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Masculine Gestational Syndrome," the doctor repeated. "You seem to have all the symptoms, and if there's any way to verify that either you have that or your family has a history of having this syndrome, I'd like to find out before we go any further."

"Oh," Brendon said, and he rubbed his hand over his cheek. "Jon, do you have your Sidekick? I left mine at the hotel." He hadn't been thinking when they'd left. He never would have been without it otherwise. Jon fumbled through his pockets and finally pulled out his Sidekick, handing it over to Brendon. "I'm calling my mom to ask her if she knows.”

The doctor nodded, and waited. It took four rings for Brendon’s mother to answer.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Hi, mom,” Brendon said, his voice holding a little bit of a sigh.

“You sound tired, baby,” his mother said in reply. Brendon managed a little laugh at that, leaning a little heavier against Jon as they sat there.

“I’m in the emergency room,” he said. This, however, was probably not the best thing to say, all things considered.

“Brendon!” his mother yelled.

“Mom, I’m fine!” Brendon said with as much energy as he could muster. “I mean, I’m not, I’m in the emergency room, but I need to ask you a question.”

“Anything, honey. Are you sick?” his mother asked.

“Yeah, mom. I… the doctor wants to know if anyone in our family has a history of… what was it?” Brendon asked. He just held out the phone, thinking it might be more productive to just let the doctor as his mother these questions.

The doctor frowned but took the phone. “Your son is exhibiting all of the symptoms of Masculine Gestational Syndrome,” the doctor said. Brendon just closed his eyes and leaned against Jon. “And what we need to know before we do any further tests is if he actually has this. I know that in a lot of hospitals it’s tested for at birth, but there’s still the possibility that the one your son was born in didn’t do this test, in which case I’ll need to know if anyone in your family has ever tested positive for it.”

Brendon dozed off against Jon’s shoulder while the doctor was talking to his mother.

“Bren,” Jon was saying and he lifted his head up and looked at the doctor. The gentleman looked very serious and was writing something on Brendon’s chart.

“As I suspected, you have Masculine Gestational Syndrome,” the doctor said. “It’s a very rare anomaly in the male anatomy that allows some men to… well, become pregnant. You were diagnosed with it when they did your blood work when you were born, and I’m assuming that your mother didn’t say anything about it, since you didn’t seem to know about it?”

“No, I didn’t,” Brendon said, and he frowned, looking at the doctor. “But… Are you saying that I…”

“You’re pregnant,” The doctor said with a matter-of-fact nod.

“Okay, I’m going to wake up now,” Brendon said, shaking his head. “I’m going to wake up now, right Jon?”

Jon was a little pale in the face, looking at Brendon.

“Jon?” Brendon said, and his voice squeaked out, completely pathetic.

“I’m sorry, son,” the doctor said. “It’s preventable, of course, just like any pregnancy. Unfortunately, since you didn’t know, you weren’t able to… take the necessary precautions. And also, I’m going to, ah, assume that since your mother didn’t tell you that you have this, she also doesn’t know that you’re … ah, engaging in sexual intercourse with other young men.”

“I guess she does now, doesn’t she,” Brendon said, the same pathetic tone in his voice. He went quiet, slumped against Jon and staring out into space.

“Is he really pregnant?” Jon finally asked.

“I can do blood and urine tests to verify it, but considering his symptoms and the fact that he does have MGS, and – I wasn’t wrong about your sexuality, was I? I sincerely apologize for making that assumption,” the doctor said. “This is simply something that most normally crops up in homosexual males, for obvious reasons.”

“How does this even happen?” Brendon asked. “I mean, seriously, I… how can I possibly be pregnant? I don’t have ovaries.”

“A glitch in your anatomy causes… well, in very, very technical terms? You do have ovaries.”

“I’m going to. Throw up now, actually,” Brendon informed them, before doubling over. Jon just managed to jerk his feet out of the way and the doctor looked very put-upon.

“I’ll get you some reading material and arrange for you to have an ultrasound done,” the doctor said. “Just so we can figure out how far along you are, and also to see if everything is going all right. I can also refer you to a specialist who handles male pregnancy, since they’re usually high risk pregnancies.”

The doctor stepped back, getting away from the mess. “And I’ll send someone to clean this up.”


***


Brendon snaked his hand into Jon’s as they walked out of the emergency waiting room, staying close to him as they made their way outside. They had a while to wait before they could go in and have the ultrasound done, and Jon was a little scared that Brendon was about to have a complete mental breakdown. Of course, Jon didn’t really blame him, since if he’d just found out that he was pregnant, being a guy, he’d probably be freaking out, too.

They made their way back to the rental car and Jon opened the door on the passenger side and let Brendon slide inside. They’d given him something to stop the nausea and the vomiting that Brendon had been experiencing. He was feeling better, but he was still acting exhausted. Apparently that was a symptom of the pregnancy, too. Jon felt like he should’ve known that. He walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in.

They sat there in silence for a long time.

“How am I pregnant?” Brendon asked. “How am I one of a miniscule number of guys in the entire world with the miraculous ability to fucking conceive, Jon?”

“I don’t know,” Jon said quietly.

“How did my mom not tell me?” Brendon continued. “I mean, I would have – oh fuck, oh fuck, my mom knows that I’m gay. Or. I. Oh fuck.”

“Maybe she’ll be excited that she’s going to have a grandbaby,” Jon said.

“… you’ve met my parents, Jon Walker,” Brendon said.

“Okay, so she’s not going to be happy. I mean, there’s not really anything you can do, right?” Jon asked. “Well, I guess there is something you could do, but… you wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“No!” Brendon said. “No, I couldn’t.”

They were silent again.

“What are we going to do with a baby?” Jon said quietly. “I mean, four guys, on tour, and there’s suddenly going to be a baby?”

“I can’t kill it,” Brendon said.

“Maybe someone could adopt it,” Jon said. “Like, once you give birth, someone could adopt it that could take care of it better than us.”

Brendon shrugged. He didn’t want to think about it. He was only 19 years old. He didn’t want to have a baby. He certainly didn’t want to give birth to it himself.

“How is it going to come out?” Brendon asked after a few moments. “I don’t have a vagina and there is no way it is coming out of my penis, I just want you to know.”

“You’ll have to ask the doctor,” Jon said. “I’m sure there’s some special way that it happens, like there’s some special way you’re pregnant in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Brendon said, and it was in his little tiny, scared voice again. Jon fidgeted for a while, flipping the screen of his Sidekick back and forth. He had a text message from Ryan that was almost an hour old asking how Brendon was. Jon thought this was the kind of thing that needed to be said in person.

“Maybe your mom could take care of it,” Jon suggested after a few minutes. Brendon shifted in the seat and shook his head.

“I probably don’t even have a mom anymore,” Brendon said pathetically. “Not now that I’m like, gay and stuff.”

“Well, then… then maybe my mom,” Jon said quietly. “I mean, it’s…”

“It’s your baby, too,” Brendon said, then reached out, wrapping his hand around Jon’s and holding onto it tightly. “I’m sorry, Jon. I’m really sorry.”

He held onto Jon’s hand so tightly Jon thought his fingers might break. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. And if you had known, we could’ve been more careful. I didn’t even know this kind of thing existed,” Jon said. Then he leaned over and wrapped his arms around Brendon, pulling him close and hugging him tight.

“I don’t want to have a baby,” Brendon said quietly.

“I know,” Jon said. “But you are, so let’s…. let’s go back in there and get you checked out so that it’s a healthy baby.”

Brendon nodded, and sighed, and then they got out of the car.


***


Jon had to keep a firm grip on Brendon’s arm to keep him from running away as they walked into the room where the ultrasound was going to be done. He’d already tried to pull away from Jon and leave, but the older boy had held on tight and hadn’t let him get away.

“Bren,” Jon said, looking at him, and he could see that Brendon’s face was pale and scared. Jon reached out and hugged him tightly, and they sat like that until the nurse came in. Jon noticed that she looked surprised to see two boys sitting there. He was starting to get the feeling that this was very, very rare.

“Okay,” she said, putting on a smile and moving over to sit down. “If you could just lie back on the table here and get comfortable, we’ll get started.”

Jon slid off the table as Brendon moved to lay back. He got halfway down before he sat back up. “I can’t do this,” he said, and started to get off of the table. “I can’t do this, I can’t be pregnant, I’m a guy and I–“

“Honey, I’m sure this is hard for you,” the nurse said softly. “But you can’t back out on this, okay? I need you to lie back so that I can check and make sure that your baby’s going to be all right.”

“There is no baby,” Brendon said, as though saying it would make it true. Jon sighed and took hold of his hand.

“Well, if you’ll just lay back, we’ll make sure, and if there’s not, then we’ll send you back to see a different doctor to see what really is wrong with you,” the nurse said.

“See? They could be wrong. If there’s nothing there, they’re wrong,” Jon said. Brendon nodded, but he didn’t lie back down. Jon was afraid that he was going to start crying, but after a moment, he finally lay back on the table.

“Okay,” the nurse said, and got to work, warning Brendon before she did anything, moving his pants and the t-shirt out of the way. “This is going to be cold.”

She wasn’t lying, and Brendon hissed “Jesus,” as the gel hit his skin. Jon laughed at him and Brendon squeezed his hand, and then closed his eyes. Jon could see that he was biting his lip. The nurse shifted, brought the wand down against his stomach, and Brendon still didn’t open his eyes.

The nurse sighed, and moved the wand, smearing the gel around and looking at the screen. Jon was afraid to look at it, and turned his face so that he was just looking down at Brendon’s hand in his.

“Honey,” the nurse said quietly. “Open your eyes, okay? You probably want to see this.”

Brendon opened his eyes and looked over at the screen. He didn’t see anything, just a black screen with a few bumps and blobs on it.

“I don’t see anything,” Brendon said. “That means I’m not pregnant.”

The nurse gave him a sad little smile, and reached out to the screen. “That’s the head right there,” she said, tracing her finger around the curve. “Judging from what I can see, I’d say that you’re about three months pregnant. I’m surprised you didn’t know you were before now – well, I mean, obviously you didn’t have menstruation to stop, but…”

She trailed off because Brendon had started crying, bringing his hands up to cover his face, crying in little hitching gasps. Jon shifted, leaned down and wrapped his arms around Brendon, who reached his arms up and hugged Jon tightly. Jon leaned his mouth close to Brendon’s ear, so that he could whisper.

“That’s a baby, Bren. A tiny life. Fully formed little life,” Jon whispered. “We’ll get through this, okay? We’ll all get through this, and remember it’s my baby, too. I’ll be here with you the whole time, okay?”

“Okay,” Brendon whispered, and Jon straightened up.


***


They were sent home – well, back to the hotel – with a few prescriptions, and the name of a specialist in California, since that was closer to home, and several pamphlets detailing Brendon’s condition and what they needed to expect. He waited in the car when Jon went to get the prescriptions, pulling his hood up over his head and turning onto his side, falling asleep that way and only waking when they were back at the hotel and Jon shook his shoulder.

“Now you have to … explain this to Ryan and Spencer,” Jon said.

“Can’t I just go back to our room, and then you can give them the pamphlets and they can come and talk to me later?” Brendon asked.

“I doubt that it’s going to work out that way, honey,” Jon said as they walked into the hotel and took the elevator back up to their room. Jon unlocked the door and by the time he had it halfway open, Ryan was there pulling it open the rest of the way.

“You could have texted me back,” he said, frowning at Jon as hard as he could. Jon could see Spencer sitting on the end of the other bed, flipping through the channels on the TV.

“This was really something we decided you needed to hear in person,” Jon said, physically moving Ryan out of the way so that he and Brendon could get into the room.

“Well, he’s not dying,” Spencer said. “He’s not dying, Ryan, so chill out.”

“How do you know I’m not dying?” Brendon asked, walking over and going to flop out on his bed, almost going down on his stomach before changing his mind and flopping out on his back, propping his head up with the pillows.

“Because if you were dying, they wouldn’t have let you leave the hospital,” Spencer said logically. “So what’s wrong with you? I bet Ryan it was food poisoning.”

“That was what Ryan’s been saying all along,” Ryan said, shoving Spencer as he climbed up onto the other bed. Jon sat down next to Brendon.

“I have a parasite,” Brendon said, and Jon shot him a dirty look.

“A parasite?” Ryan asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yup,” Brendon said. “But no worries, it’ll be gone in about six months.”

“What is it?” Spencer said, glaring at him. “Stop trying to work around it and just tell us. Wait, wait. You have some kind of STD don’t you?”

“… well…” Brendon said, and looked at Jon. “I guess some people would call it that.”

“Dude, you sound like a pregnant chick,” Ryan said.

Neither Brendon nor Jon said anything. Ryan frowned.

“You’re a guy,” he said. “You can’t be pregnant.”

“And yet the nurse that did the ultrasound said that I was about three months,” Brendon said.

“This isn’t funny!” Ryan snapped, standing up, two bright spots of color on his cheeks. Brendon could tell that he was mad. He could hear it, see it. Spencer was there, ready to snatch Ryan back if he tried to kill Brendon or something. “You could’ve been really sick! You wouldn’t tell us anything and it’s not funny now, Brendon! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” Brendon said. “Have you ever heard of Masculine Gestational Syndrome?”

“No,” Ryan said. “Are you feeding me bullshit right now because you know I’m pissed off?”

“No. I really have MGS. Apparently all babies are supposed to be tested for it at birth,” Brendon said. “I just… my mom didn’t tell me, so I didn’t know. And now I’m pregnant.”

“Brendon, I really think he’s going to kill you,” Spencer said. “So you better just tell the truth.”

“Jon, where’re those thingies? Those ultrasound things? Films or whatever,” Brendon said.

Jon rifled through their stacks of paper and pulled out the films, holding them out to Ryan. “That’s the baby’s head right there,” he said, outlining it with his finger. He watched Ryan’s mouth fall open. Spencer jumped up and moved over to see it.

“Holy shit, you’re really serious,” Spencer said.

“Yeah,” Brendon said. “I wouldn’t, you know, be lying about something like this.”

Ryan wobbled on his feet, and sat down very quickly. Brendon just bit his lip and started looking through the pamphlets.


***


The best thing about Brendon being pregnant, in Ryan’s opinion, was that he had zero energy. Now that he’d stopped being sick all the time, he mostly just slept a lot. This meant that he wasn’t all up in everyone’s business at all hours of the day. He saved everything up for the shows at night, and then passed out as soon as they were back on the bus.

The worst thing about Brendon being pregnant, in Spencer’s opinion, was that he was a total bitch. He was cranky because he was constantly exhausted, and he’d bitched Spencer out in such a shocking way that Spencer had actually backed down and left him alone for once. Spencer was over this pregnancy.

Brendon was just going to be glad to get off tour.

Once it was finally over, Brendon realized that he didn’t have anywhere to go. He’d tried calling his mother, but the moment she’d realized it was him she’d hung up the phone. He’d sat on the bed and cried, then turned on the TV and started watching cartoons. Jon had found him asleep there when he got back to the bus.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” Brendon said sleepily, tipping his face up as Jon kissed him lightly, sitting down on the floor next to him. “I am a homeless pregnant teenager.”

Jon snorted. “You’re being ridiculous,” he said.

“Deny it Jon. It’s true,” Brendon said. “My mom won’t talk to me, I won’t be able to go home, and I am nineteen years old and despite medical… whatever, I am, in fact, pregnant. And I’m a dude. I am a homeless pregnant teenage boy. Beat that.”

“You could stay with me. And we’ll be recording soon, so that’ll help to hide… this, and –“ Brendon cut Jon off.

“And I’m going to get fat. My pants already don’t fit Jon! I have to get new pants!”

“Your butt’s probably going to get bigger, too,” Jon said.

“You’re – did you just say bigger? Did you say my butt was going to get bigger, Jon Walker? How could you be so insensitive?” Brendon demanded. “You’re horrible. I can’t believe you’re the father of my baby.”

“I’m teasing,” Jon said softly.

“You’re not supposed to tease a pregnant person about that sort of thing,” Brendon said. Jon kissed him again.

“Stay with me,” Jon said. “Or stay with Ryan. I’ll be Ryan will let you stay with him.”

“Ryan won’t want me to stay with him,” Brendon said.

“Ask him. If you don’t annoy him too much, he won’t care if you’re there or not, you know?” Jon said. Brendon shrugged.

“I guess,” he said quietly, and then looked up when Ryan wandered out in his pajamas, rubbing his face. He had creases on his cheek from his pillowcase.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked, frowning, looking at Brendon.

“I just realized that I can’t go home. We’re through with the tour and I don’t have anywhere to go because my mom hangs up on me when I call,” Brendon blurted out.

“So stay with Jon. Stay with me. Stay with Spencer?” Ryan said. He didn’t sound sure about the last suggestion.

“Really?” Brendon asked.

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

Brendon just beamed at him.


***


“I need new pants,” Brendon said. He walked into the living room where Ryan was sitting on the couch with a notebook propped against his knees, scribbling frantically.

He looked up when Brendon spoke. “So go and get new pants,” Ryan said logically. He was shocked that Brendon wasn’t pestering him more than he was, but he was still sleeping a lot.

“Go with me,” Brendon said, and Ryan sighed. Brendon walked over and sat down beside Ryan. He was pretty much living in sweatpants out of necessity, since his skinny little jeans would no longer button over his swelling abdomen. Ryan lived in sweatpants because he liked them.

“Brendon,” Ryan started, but Brendon gave him a look so pathetic that he caved instantly. He felt sorry for Brendon. Ryan knew that he wouldn’t want to be pregnant. “What do you want to do? Like, buy new jeans that fit? Because they’re not going to fit for very long…”

“Are you saying that I’m fat? Because I am not fat, Ryan Ross. We can’t all be skin and bones like you,” Brendon snapped. Ryan looked at him, his eyes going wide and his eyebrows arching up.

“No, I didn’t. That’s not what I meant,” Ryan said quietly. He suddenly looked hurt. Brendon would’ve felt bad if Ryan hadn’t just implied that Brendon was fat. “I just meant that the baby’s going to be getting bigger and you can’t squish it with your pants.”

“You’re saying I’m going to get fat,” Brendon said.

“But it’s not fat Bren. It’s baby,” Ryan said. Brendon looked at him for a moment before flopping over against Ryan.

“I hate this. I hate this and I want Jon. When is he getting here?” Brendon said.

“Next week,” Ryan said. “Come on, we’ll get dressed and go get you new pants.”

“I can’t get dressed! My pants don’t fit!” Brendon grimaced at him.

“Well, I am going to get dressed, then,” Ryan said.

“No, Ryan, you can’t. I can’t put on jeans, you’re not allowed to either,” Brendon said. “Please.”

Ryan rolled his eyes.


***


They ended up lurking through the aisles of the store looking like a pair of juvenile delinquents, both wearing track pants and sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up over their heads.

“Should I just get like, track pants? Or should I go for jeans?” Brendon was musing, flipping through the racks. Ryan was bored, leaning against another and examining his fingernails. “Ryan.”

“Huh?” Ryan asked. He’d tuned Brendon out. This was the most he’d really had to deal with Brendon in several days.

“Could you maybe listen to me a little bit? Should I get jeans? Or just other stretchy things?” Brendon was frowning.

“If you were just going to get other stretchy things, why did we even bother to leave the house? We had sweatpants. We had track pants. Why are we here?”

“For jeans,” Brendon said.

“Okay then.”

Brendon wandered over to find jeans. “What size do you think I am now?” he asked Ryan, who was following him.

“I don’t know, Brendon,” Ryan said, sighing a little bit. “You’ll have to try them on. And they’re not going to fit the same way your old ones did.”

“I know,” Brendon said sighing. He pulled a pair of jeans off the rack and went to try them on. When he came back out, after several tries and several different pairs and makes and cuts of jeans, and had finally found a couple pair that fit decently, he couldn’t find Ryan.

After ten minutes, he found Ryan standing in the baby clothes, looking at little tiny dresses and shirts and pants. He looked up at Brendon when he walked back up. Brendon looked a little wary of the baby clothes, like he thought that they might jump out and grab hold of him and hurt him. Ryan smiled when he saw Brendon. A real smile, like Brendon hadn’t seen in a while.

“Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?” Ryan asked, dropping his hand away from a frilly little dress. Of course that was Ryan’s taste, extravagant even if a baby would be wearing it and it would be a mess inside five minutes.

“I don’t know. I mean, I won’t know for another couple of months or something,” Brendon said. “I have to go to that specialist before then. I mean, to make sure everything’s all right. They said it’s high-risk since I’m a guy, so. I guess he’ll tell me when he figures out what it’s going to be.”

“What do you want?” Ryan asked, turning away from the clothes and looking at Brendon.

“I don’t know,” Brendon said. “It doesn’t matter. I think. I can’t raise a baby, Ryan. Not living like we do. I’ll probably … it’ll probably go up for adoption, so. I guess it doesn’t matter whether it’s a boy or a girl, really.”

“Oh,” Ryan said. Brendon thought he actually sounded kind of sad about it.

“Let’s go buy these jeans, and then get something to eat. I’m fucking starving,” Brendon said, and then started walking toward the check stands.


***


Brendon climbed into the backseat of the car, sprawling out across the seat and putting his head in Jon's lap. "I want to know whose idea it was to drive all the way to California," he said. Spencer slammed the passenger side door and Ryan started the car.

"I'm pretty sure it was yours," Jon said, his hand coming to rest in Brendon's hair.

"No way," Brendon said. "No way would I have suggested that. I pee every ten minutes, and I'm the one that suggested the car trip? No way."

"I'm pretty sure that you were the one that was all, oh, let's drive there! Won't it be awesome to road trip there?" Ryan said as he backed down the driveway and they started off down the street.

"I did not!" Brendon said.

"We're going to California because of you," Spencer said. He had a magazine spread across his knees. Brendon sat up and leaned forward between the seats.

"This was not my idea," Brendon said. He leaned further. "Are you reading pregnancy magazines?"

Spencer jerked the magazine down so that Brendon couldn't see it anymore, and Brendon laid his head back in Jon's lap again with a satisfied smile on his face.


***

"Well, I have some good news," the doctor said when he walked into the room. Brendon looked up from the floor, where he'd been watching his feet swing back and forth over the tiles.

"I'm not pregnant," he said brightly, though at this point, he'd pretty much resigned himself to it. Especially considering the fact that, well, he was actually starting to look pregnant. This, he’d decided, was one of his least favorite things about being so. Right after the having to pee every five minutes and the being exhausted nearly constantly.

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" the doctor, an older gentleman who, thankfully, didn't frown upon the whole gay thing as much as Brendon thought that he might, said. "Unfortunately, you are very definitely with child. Fortunately, it is a very healthy child. This means that you’re lucky, since 80 percent of male pregnancies have some sort of complication."

"Um, that's good, right?" Brendon said.

"That's very good. You're healthy, you have a healthy baby, and the only complication with this pregnancy that I can see at all is the actual delivery," the doctor said.

"Yeah, um. About that. How exactly is that going to um. How does that work?" Brendon asked. He was afraid to hear the answer.

"Well, since your body has no natural outlets the way a woman's body does, you'll have to have a caesarean delivery," the doctor said, looking over the chart.

"That means... you're going to cut me open?" Brendon sounded slightly horrified.

"Yes," the doctor said. Brendon made a tiny noise. "And I believe that you had mentioned possibly having the baby adopted?"

"I... yeah. I. Because of what I do... I didn't know I could get pregnant, and I ... we can't take care of a baby. I mean, we could but it wouldn't be a very good life and I want it to have a good life and... and yeah, adoption," Brendon finished.

"And you and your partner decided this together?" the doctor said.

"Well, no, I didn't... we haven't talked about it. I just thought, you know, what else are we going to do?" Brendon said, his voice going quiet.

"Talk it over with him, and then make your decision," the doctor advised. "And I'll make an appointment for you next month. By then, if we're lucky, we might get to find out what you're having."

"Great," Brendon said. He didn't sound like he thought it was all that great.

"Just make sure to keep taking the vitamins, and I'll see you next month," the doctor said. "If you go out to the waiting room, the nurse will make an appointment for you to come back."

Brendon slid down off the table and went out to the waiting room, walking over to where Jon was sitting and plopping down into the seat. "I hate my life," he informed Jon.

"I take it this means that you're still pregnant?" Jon asked, not even looking up from the book he was reading.

"And they're going to cut me open," Brendon said, and then sighed, leaning over and putting his head against Jon's shoulder to wait.


***


Ryan pounced on him the moment they'd walked through the door.

"Well?" he said, hovering close to Brendon as Brendon made his way back toward one of the bedrooms, leading Jon by the hand.

"Well what?" Brendon asked. "Am I still pregnant? Yes. Leave me alone. I need to talk to Jon."

He pulled Jon into the bedroom and closed the door in Ryan's face.

"We need to. I need to. What are we going to do?" Brendon asked, looking at Jon seriously. He moved over and sat down on the bed. "We can't take care of a baby. Not with touring and... we can't..."

Jon sat down next to Brendon, wrapping his arms around him. Brendon sighed and leaned against him. "My mom would take care of it," Jon said after a few minutes. "I asked her, when I was in Chicago."

"How'd that work?" Brendon asked.

"’Hey mom, hypothetically if I'd gotten someone pregnant, would you be willing to baby-sit while I'm on tour,’" Jon said.

"Did you tell her?" Brendon asked.

"After she looked at me like I'd grown a third eye, yeah," Jon said. Brendon laughed. "But seriously? She's not happy about it, Bren, but she... I talked to her about it, and she acted like it would be okay if we wanted to keep the baby. I told her that your mom wasn't even talking to you now, so."

"I'm not sure that I want to," Brendon said. "I mean, I don't... I don't want a baby, Jon. I mean, I know logically if I didn't want a baby then I shouldn't have been having sex and -- this is God punishing me for not being a good little Mormon and going on a mission trip and being in a rock band instead, isn't it?"

"Well, it's really probably punishment for being a sodomite since I'm not Mormon," Jon said, stretching out on the bed. Brendon made a face at him and then lay down next to him.

"It's punishment for something, Jonathan," Brendon said crossly.

"Unprotected sex is what my mother said. Right after she went through 'you could've gotten AIDS, Jonathan!' And I said '...from Brendon?' It was sort of comical, actually. She went, 'oh, well no,' so at least she doesn't think you're diseased," Jon said.

"Oh my God, I'm really starting to hate you," Brendon groaned. It didn't stop him from burying his face into Jon's chest. Jon wrapped his arms around Brendon. "And your mother. I don't have diseases."

"Just parasites," Jon said.

"Fuck you," Brendon said, poking Jon in the stomach. "I only have the one parasite. It's your fault."

"Half my fault," Jon said.

"Whatever."

Brendon went quiet, lying against Jon, his head on the other boy's chest. He could hear Jon's heartbeat, steady beneath his ear. He sighed.

"I want someone to adopt the baby," Brendon said. At the same time, Jon blurted out, "I hope it's a boy."

Brendon lifted his head up and looked at Jon, who was lying there looking at Brendon with his eyes a little wide. Brendon could see him swallow hard, and take a deep breath.

"I know you don't want to keep it. But... but it's going to be five more months, right? Five more months and you may not want to give it up," Jon said.

"Yes, I will," Brendon said. "I suck with kids. I suck with kids and hello, tour, Jon Walker. This is not going to work."

"But my --"

"No," Brendon said.

Jon lay there for a moment, before getting up and walking out of the room. Brendon cursed to himself and lay there for a moment, before getting up and walking out of the bedroom. Spencer was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels. Ryan was sitting next to him, a blanket wrapped around him, his head leaned against Spencer's shoulder. Both of them looked up at Brendon when he walked into the room.

"What'd you do to Jon?" Spencer asked.

"I didn't do anything to Jon, fuck off, Spencer," Brendon said, storming over to the back door, where he could see Jon sitting on the porch.

"Don't go out there," Ryan said. Brendon stopped.

"Why not?" Brendon snapped.

"Just leave him alone for a while, man. Let him be upset, when he's done he'll come back in and things will be fine," Ryan said. "Not all of us are girls like you, Brendon."

"I am the kettle and you are the pot, Ryan Ross," Brendon said, and stormed back into the bedroom.


***


Jon didn’t talk to Brendon for a week.

This meant something. It meant that Jon was really, truly angry at Brendon. It was making Brendon sick. He stayed in the bedroom and only even interacted with Jon when they were all working on writing songs. And even then, he just looked at Jon with a sad, pathetic little face.

Jon didn’t even look at him. Ryan finally cornered him away from everyone else at the end of the week.

“What happened?” Ryan asked. “Because personally, I liked it better when you two were all snuggly and sickeningly cute together.”

“Nothing happened,” Jon said. He didn’t meet Ryan’s eyes and he leaned back against the kitchen counter, turning his soda can around and around in his hands. Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“Right, so you know you’re the worst liar in the history of existence, after like, Brendon, so what actually happened?” Ryan asked. Jon looked up at him and frowned.

“Brendon wants to put the baby up for adoption. I don’t want him to,” Jon said. Ryan nodded. “And I told him, my mom already offered to take care of it when we’re on tour. I know its Brendon’s body, but it’s my baby too.”

“Jon, you know he’s probably not thinking about that at all, right?” Ryan asked. “He’s just thinking about how he isn’t able to take care of a baby.”

“Well, he needs to think about other things, too,” Jon snapped. Ryan looked surprised.

“It’s Brendon. He doesn’t think about anything but himself, and you know that, Jon. Just… just give him time,” Ryan said. He shook his head, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“What if there isn’t time?” Jon asked.

“There’s at least five more months of time,” Ryan said quietly, and picked up his mug of tea and walked out of the kitchen.


***

“Hey Jon?” Brendon said, walking into the doorway of the bedroom. The relationship between him and Jon had been tense at best the past few weeks, and the entire thing was making Brendon completely exhausted. The pregnancy, the working on the album, the fighting with Jon, all of it.

Jon looked up from his laptop, lying on the bed. Brendon was standing there, ridiculous sneakers and track pants, a hoodie zipped up over his protruding belly. Jon thought it was cute, actually. He wouldn’t say that out loud, however. He was still bitter about the fact that that baby, there inside Brendon, that was his baby, too, and Brendon was giving it away.

“What?” Jon said, looking back down at his computer screen.

“I um,” Brendon said. “I’m going to the doctor, in a little bit. And um. I want you to go with me.” He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. This was his peace offering. Brendon was never good at saying that he was sorry.

“Why?” Jon asked, still bitter.

“I’m supposed to get to hear the baby’s heartbeat today. We didn’t do it last time, but today… and I might find out if it’s a boy or a girl. The doctor said that sometimes, um, if the baby’s positioned right, you can see.” All of the reading that he’d been doing said that at five months he could find out.

“You’re not keeping it. Why would I want to go with you and get all attached to it?” Jon said. But he wanted to go. He didn’t want to be angry with Brendon about the whole thing anymore, but this was important to him.

Brendon didn’t say anything. He just sat there silently. He wasn’t looking at Jon anymore, just down at his hands. Jon rolled his eyes and went back to checking his email, thinking that Brendon would eventually get up and leave. Brendon didn’t. And then Jon realized that Brendon was shaking.

Brendon had actually started crying.

“Oh no,” Jon said. “Baby, no.” He put his computer to the side and sat up, wrapping his arms around Brendon. “Please don’t.”

“You hate me,” Brendon said. “You hate me because I can’t take care of a baby. You hate me because I want to give it up.”

“I don’t hate you, Brendon,” Jon said, rubbing his hand over Brendon’s back. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t want to give the baby up.”

“I want it to have a good life. I can’t take care of a baby. We’re going to be on tour and we can’t take care of a baby, Jon,” Brendon said, and they’d had this conversation before.

“We can, Brendon. I know we can. We’re good people, and my mom said that she’d take care of it while we were on tour, we can make it work,” Jon said. “And besides, once you hear its heartbeat, you may change your mind about giving it up.”

Brendon sniffled and nodded, pushing Jon down on the bed and curling up to him. He wanted to go to sleep right there, skip his doctor appointment and sleep next to Jon. Now that they weren’t going to fight anymore. They weren’t going to fight anymore, right?

Brendon just didn’t really think his mind was going to change.


***


Continue to Part 2