You were only joking when you told Grayson that he was pregnant, during the short drive to the emergency room. His constant vomiting, debilitating fatigue, the stomach pains he’s been feeling, his loss of appetite — they’re all sure signs that something is seriously wrong with him… but it could truly be anything — something as dire as a blockage in his gut, or as simple as the flu. You weren’t serious when you made that throwaway comment about there being a kid in his belly… it was only a stupid joke… but now, after seeing all of the futile exams that the doctors and nurses have run on Grayson, you’re convinced that you were right about the baby. It would make sense for him to be pregnant, honestly… the way you two have been fooling around these last few weeks, it wouldn’t be surprising. With the doctor gone to grab a last-resort pregnancy test, you’re hoping that there’s something else wrong with him — anything other than a baby — but until he pisses on that stick, you won’t know for sure. It’s a hard pill to swallow, the possibility of him actually being pregnant with your child, but if anyone’s to blame for such a mistake, it’s you. You did this to yourself… and now, your future rests on the topside of a plastic stick. All that you can do to ease your nerves is admire Grayson, as he sits idly on the examination bed… watch his movements, and stare down at his exposed feet. It brings you comfort, just looking at him… and, admittedly, a selfish part of you wants to burn a decent image into your brain, of the way he looks now, before he gets all big and miserable. He’s gorgeous… and he’ll make a good dad… you know it in your heart.
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