Fawnsleeping

𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤

It was around 2 in the morning and Pony laid awake in bed. Next to him Soda was snoring his head off into the pillow. Pony never really realized how loud Soda snores sometimes, but he could admit it’s pretty annoying when you feel lousy.

Pony was so sleepy but his stomach hurt to much for him to fall asleep. This stomachache wasn’t just a simple one you get after eating to much food or something. This is a bad one.

Pony was trying his best not to cry from the pain because Soda had work early in the morning. After a few hours of Ponyboy tossing and turning, and listening to Soda’s snoring he dozed off and cuddled up on Soda’s shoulder.

______________________

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟕

𝟓𝐚𝐦

Darry slowly woke up to the sound of his beaming alarm and the bright rising sun through his curtains. Darry sat up and checked the time on the alarm box. ‘5am already, ugh’ Darry thought.

Darry slipped out of his warm comfy bed and headed to the bathroom. After a nice warm shower he went back to his room and changed into his work clothes. While he was cooking breakfast he heard the shower turn on again so he knew Sodapop was now up.

Since Soda was up Darry figured it would be good to get Pony up as well. When Darry entered Pony and Soda’s shared room, Pony was fast asleep snoring into his pillow while his leg was half off the bed and half on the bed.

Darry couldn’t help but laugh because Pony always denied it when he got told that he snores. Even though it’s so obvious he does. “Pony, time to get up.” Darry said while moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Pony slightly moved but didn’t wake up.

“Come on Pone it’s too early for this. You need to get up I’m sorry.” Pony stirred a bit, “mhm Darry.”

“Yeah it’s me, come on time to get up.” Pony was finally awake now but he didn’t look like he was planning to get out of bed anytime soon.

“Darry, I don’t feel good.” Darry did notice Pony’s cheeks were a bit red and he was pale. Darry placed his hand on Pony’s cheek and forehead. “Yeah you do feel a bit warm. Does anything else feel wrong besides the fever?” Darry asked while he gently rubbed Pony’s knee.

“Yeah my stomach hurts pretty bad.” Pony answered. “Alright I’ll leave you be and you can stay home today. But will you be okay home by yourself?”

“Yes Darry I’ll be okay I’m not a baby.”

“Shh go back to sleep.” As Pony got comfy under the blankets again and closed his eyes, he felt

Darry kiss his forehead then leave the room.

________________

𝟔𝐚𝐦

“SODAPOP, HUSTLE YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE AGAIN.” As Darry finished his sentence Soda hurried out of the bathroom ready for work but still no shoes on. Darry sighed, “aren’t you forgetting something?” Soda looked blankly at Darry. “No I got everything. Wait are you talking about my hair? Is it not greased enough?” Darry held in a laugh. “No, no Soda, you need your shoes on to leave the house.”

Soda ran around the house looking for his shoes. That’s when the gang walked in. “I’M HOME” Two-Bit yelled. “Two-Bit shut your trap. Pony’s sleeping, he’s not feeling well.” Steve walked straight past Darry and got the chocolate cake. After a second the cake frosting was smudged on his lip and nose.

“Aw Ponybrat got what was coming to him” Two-Bit punched Steve in the arm. “Don’t be mean to Ponykid, you’re only saying that cause he not here to defend himself.” That got a quiet laugh from Johnny. Two-bit took a the rest of the cake and headed to the living room to watch Mickey Mouse.

“Two-Bit, you better not get frosting all over the floor again. That was a pain in the ass to clean up.” Darry commented while getting his roofing supplies ready to head to work.

“Alright I’m going to head out now come on Steve and Soda.” Soon Darry, Soda, and Steve were out the door driving away in the truck to head to work.

Johnny was sitting on the couch watching Mickey Mouse with Two-Bit, and of course Two-Bit was singing the Mickey Mouse theme song. “Two-Bit, I know it’s your routine to sing this song or whatever, but you might want to lower your voice so Pony doesn’t wake up.”

“You’re right Johnnycake, I’ll hush my mouth.” Johnny was kind of confused about Two-Bit’s grammar sometimes, but it’s not surprising because he’s 18 still in high school.

____________________

𝟏𝟎𝐚𝐦

Ponyboy has been up since 8am throwing up literally anything and everything. About 30 minutes after Pony woke up he tried eating some toast he made. But he felt so weak after just putting the bread in the toaster and buttering it. But Pony could only take 2 bites until he was running to the bathroom with a hand clamped on his mouth.

An hour after that Pony tried some water and threw that up too. Soon Pony was just laying on the bathroom floor in so much pain that he couldn’t even cry. Pony knew that he told Darry he didn’t need to stay home from work to watch him because he isn’t a ‘baby’ but he really needed Darry right now.

He really needed Darry or Soda. It didn’t even matter but he was in so much pain. This definitely wasn’t some stomach bug. It was worse. Pony needed one of his brothers but he kid of wished that school didn’t start yet so Two-Bit and Johnny were still at the house.

Pony felt like someone was ripping him in half when he gently moved into a sitting position. But Pony knew he had to get up and go to the living room to get the telephone.

So Pony slowly got up and tried to be careful with his stomach. Pony slowly walked to the living room bent over because it wasn’t as bad as standing up was. When Pony finally reached the phone he sat down in Darry’s recliner chair, and started dialing the roofing company that Darry works at.

A few seconds later “Tulsa Roofing Company, how may I direct your call?

Pony swallowed hard because he started to feel nauseous again. “Can.. can I speak to Darrel Curtis please” there was silents then, “Certainly, Honey. I’ll transfer your call to the work site he’s working at. Just a moment please.”

Pony leaned back in the recliner chair trying to hold in a groan from the pain. ‘Just because I am in a lot of pain that doesn’t mean I can just embarrass himself on the phone with some random stranger. At least she seems nice enough to maybe not mention it’.

Pony got snapped out of his thoughts when he head a loud, grouchy voice come on the phone “Roofing site B, this is Tom speaking.”

Pony felt relieved that he was so close to talking to Darry. “Um.. can I please talk to Darrel Curtis sir”

“Darrel? Yeah, yeah he’s here hold on a sec kid”

Pony could hear the loud bangs from the hammers, and beeping sounds from the construction trucks. He also heard yelling, which he wasn’t surprised.

“CURTIS! PHONE!”

Ponyboy had to pull the phone away from his year because of how loud that guy was yelling. “Hello, Darrel speaking.”

“Darry”

“Ponyboy? Is that you? What’s wrong?”

“Darry, I’m in so much pain. I’m so sorry I had to call you and get you away from work but I’m in a lot of pain and I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m being ripped apart.”

“Alright.. Alright little buddy that’s sounds like appendicitis. I’m going to end my shift early, but I need you to call the DX because you know the DX is closer than my job. Actually I’ll meet you at the hospital call Soda right after I hang up this phone.”

“Okay Darry, I’m really sorry”

Pony started getting the pain even worse he couldn’t help but groan from the pain.

“Pony please call the DX right now, and don’t be sorry you and your brother come first no matter what. But I’m hanging up now. Please call the DX right after I mean it”

“Okay Darry, bye.”

The phone call ended and pony then started putting in the number for the DX.

“Hello this is Sodapop, how may I help you today!” Soda said cheerfully into the phone.

“Soda, it’s me, Ponyboy”

“Pony what’s the matter? Are you alright?” Pony felt bad because he could tell how worried Soda was already.

“Well my stomach hurts so bad. So I called Darry and he told me to call you so you can bring me to the hospital and we’ll meet Darry at the hospital.”

Pony heard silent over the phone then he head Soda yelling “STEVE COVER FIR NE IF BOSS GETS MAD I’M NOT HERE.”

Then the phone call ended.

________________________

Not long after the phone call, Ponyboy could hear Soda floring down the street to come take him to the hospital.

Pony knew it was finally it, finally time to go to the hospital. He knew it was going to be hell and he was worried about what was going to happen. Like would he get surgery?

The door flew open and hit the wall. If Darry was home he would probably yell “Don’t slam the door!”

Soda walked in and he looked pretty panicky. “Hey’a Pone, let’s go to the hospital before something even worse happens.”

Pony groaned a bit while holding his stomach. “But.. but Soda, what if I stay for a few days? I need to pack things for the hospital!”

“I don’t think so baby, come on, let’s go to the car.”

Pony sat up from the recliner, then a yell mixed with a gasp bursted out of him from the excruciating pain that came when he sat up.

“PONY!”

Soda came over immediately and put a hand on Pony’s back, and helped Pony get out a bending position.

“OWW! SODA STOP MOVING ME.”

Pony didn’t mean to yell at Soda, but what Soda did was hurting his stomach so bad.

___________________________

𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥

When Soda pulled up infront of the hospital, he flew out the car and told Pony he would be back in a second. Pony was in too much pain to even care, and listen to what Soda was saying.

(In the hospital)

Soda ran in the hospital franticly. He ran straight up to the desk and said, “My little brother is in so much pain, he’s still in the car! I need a wheelchair to get him inside because he’s in to much pain to walk!”

“Alright sir, everything going to be alright you don’t need to panic.”

The nurse smiled softly at Soda, then started looking around for a nurse. “Hey! Hey Donna, there is a situation going on and this kind man needs help.”

The girl named Donna speed walked over with a wheelchair. “Alright sir, can you please take me out to the car with your brother in it.”

Soda ran out the door with the nurse not so far behind him. “Here, my brother’s in this car.” Soda painted. Soda opened the door for the kind nurse.

“Hey there sweetheart, my names Donna and I’m going to help you get inside the hospital.”

So after a bit of the nurse and Soda helping Pony out of the car into a wheelchair, they finally did it and brought Pony inside. “This is so embarrassing Soda, what if someone sees me and thinks I’m handy cap at 14 years old!”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ve seen worse.” The nurse answered for Soda.

__________________________

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

Pony was sitting on the exam table when a nurse walked into the room. She seemed nice. Hopefully she is.

“Hello Ponyboy, my name is Karen and I’ll be your nurse for today.”

“Hi, my name is Sodapop. Our brother Darry will be here soon.”

“Okay, well Ponyboy what are your symptoms.”

Ponyboy just sat there holding back tears from all the pain. Pony looked at Soda in away that said ‘you tell her everything please’.

“Well Pony has really bad stomach pain, a fever, and he’s threw up too.”

Karen wrote that with a pen on a clipboard. “Alright Ponyboy, I’m just going to take your temperature.”

Karen walked over to the cabinets and took out a thermometer. She walked back over to Pony and gently slipped the thermometer into his mouth. While the thermometer was in his mouth under his tongue, she was checking his pulse and blood pressure.

When she got the result of his pulse and blood pressures, she wrote it down on the clipboard. Just as she finished writing the thermometer beeped. She gently took it out of Pony’s mouth and read it.

“103.9… hm.” She mumbled. She wrote the temperature down as well. “Alright Ponyboy, is it alright if I press on your belly? It’s so I can check something.”

Pony slowly knotted his head yes. “Alright, I’m just going to lower the seat so you will be laying down completely.”

The nurse lowered the seat into a lying position. When Pony was completely lying down Karen started gently pushing on his stomach. When she got to the area where the appendix is Pony let out a weak cry.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I won’t do that anymore.”

While the nurse was nice about it, she seemed very concerned. She then wrote something down again. “The doctor will be in sooner than expected.” With that the nurse was heading out the room.

____________________________

After about 5 minutes, Darry came in the room. “Hey baby, how are you feeling?” Darry asked as he walked over and took a seat beside Soda. “Not to good.”

“I’m sorry-“

Darry didn’t finish his sentence because the doctor came inside. “Hello, my name is Dr. Aurthor.”

The doctor read what the nurse wrote down. Then he proceeded to say, “Alright Ponyboy, looks like you got appendicitis. We’ll need to get the appendix removed immediately.”

“How will this go down Dr. Aurthor?”

“Good question Darrel. So Ponyboy will be out under anesthesia so he won’t feel a thing during surgery. Once he’s asleep we’ll make an incision and remove the appendix safely. Then we’ll stitch your brother up and that it.”

“Okay thank you doctor. When will Pony get the surgery.”

The doctor looked weirdly at Darry for asking that question. “Well now, if his appendix burst it can be life threatening. So Ponyboy I’m going to bring you a gown then nurse Karen will bring you to the surgery room in a wheelchair.”

Before leaving the room the doctor smiled at Pony sympathetically.

Around 5 minutes later the doctor came back with a gown for Pony to wear. Of course Darry and Soda helped Pony change into the gown.

_________________________

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐲

Karen wheeled Pony down the hall to the surgery room in the wheelchair. Before they entered the double doors, she stoped so Pony can say bye to his brothers. Soda kissed Pony’s head, and told him everything would be alright. Darry ruffled Pony’s hair and told him after this hectic day, he’ll get spoiled.

Then they went threw the double doors…

_________________________

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐲

Pony woke up to some weird beeping noise, and someone touching his hair. When he opened his eyes, he was seeing 4 of everything. Also everything was blurry. “Hey Pone, how are you feeling?”

Pony looked in the direction where he heard someone talking and he saw Darry. Darry looked funny. “Water, can I have water?” Soda gout up from his chair and got something that was on the side of the table. He then sat down next to Darry and held the cup next to Pony’s mouth.

Pony was to out of it so Darry put the straw in Pony’s mouth. Pony felt a bit better now that he had some water. When he moved slightly he felt pain in his stomach.

“Ow..”

“Pony be careful, you can’t move around to much you’ll mess up your stitches.”

A doctor walked into the room. “Hello Ponyboy, see that you’re awake. Your surgery went Very well.”

Ponyboy honestly did not care what this doctor had to say. He just wanted to go sleep, he felt so lousy.

_________________________

𝐅𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲’𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥

It was the day Pony got discharged from the hospital. Pony was annoyed because he couldn’t do anything. The doctor told Darry that he was on bed rest, and when he gets up to walk around someone needs to be with him.

Pony knew Darry and Soda were going to be even more dramatic and protective. Pony was taken to the car in a wheelchair, and got help climbing into the car.

At home Soda got Pony comfy on the couch. Soda laid next to Pony on the couch, and Darry sat in his recliner chair. The next few day’s might be ruff but they can get through it together.

The end

Title: night time realizations

It was nearly midnight when you finally gave up trying to sleep.

You lay on your side, one hand on your belly, staring at the soft glow of the nightlight across the room. The baby had been kicking on and off for the last half hour, restless and rhythmic like she somehow knew your thoughts were racing too.

Matt was asleep beside you, his arm slung over a pillow instead of you—something about not wanting to “squish the queen and the princess.” You didn’t usually wake him when you couldn’t sleep.

But tonight felt different.

You shifted carefully, sitting up with a slow exhale, cradling your bump with both hands. The pressure. The weight. The knowing that soon she would be here—really here—outside of you, breathing, crying, needing everything all at once.

And that you would have to get her here.

A wave of emotion rose in your chest, sharp and heavy. You swallowed it, but it didn’t leave.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Matt stirred beside you.

“Hey…” His voice was rough with sleep. He blinked up at you, instantly alert at the sight of your tears. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, wiping your face. “Nothing. I’m fine. I’m just—hormones, probably.”

Matt sat up, fully awake now. “You’re crying at midnight. That’s not ‘just hormones.’” He rubbed his eyes. “Is it the baby? Are you hurting?”

“No,” you whispered. “She’s fine. I’m fine. I just…”

You trailed off, overwhelmed.

Matt scooted closer, placing one hand on your belly and the other on your cheek, warm and gentle. “Talk to me. Please.”

You took a shaky breath.

“I’m scared, Matt.”

He froze, then nodded slowly. “Of the birth?”

You nodded, a tear slipping down again. “What if I can’t do it? What if something goes wrong? What if I’m not strong enough and she—” Your voice cracked.

Matt didn’t interrupt. He didn’t try to fix it or rush past it. He just moved closer, wrapped both arms around you, and let you cry into his shoulder while he held your belly between the two of you like it was sacred.

“You’re allowed to be scared,” he murmured. “I’m scared too.”

You blinked, surprised. “You are?”

“Of course,” he whispered. “But not of you. Never of you. I’ve watched you carry our daughter for eight months. Through nausea and back pain and cravings that made me go to Target at 10PM for rainbow sherbet and pickles. You’ve done all of that already. You’re already strong enough.”

You leaned into his words, breathing in his warmth, his calm.

“She’s gonna need me,” you whispered.

“She already does,” Matt said, kissing the top of your head. “And you’ve shown up every day. Even when you were exhausted. Even when you were scared.”

You closed your eyes. “I just… don’t know what it’s going to feel like. And I think that’s the worst part.”

Matt nodded. “I don’t know either. But I do know I’m gonna be right there. Holding your hand. Talking you through every minute. Telling bad jokes and rubbing your back and reminding you how freaking amazing you are.”

You let out a weak laugh. “You’re gonna cry before I do.”

“Absolutely,” he said proudly. “I’ll be a total mess. I’m planning to sob the moment she’s born and say something dramatic like ‘She’s perfect’ with tears running down my face like I’m in a movie.”

You laughed again, harder this time, and Matt smiled against your hair.

“You don’t have to feel brave,” he said. “You just have to keep going. And you don’t have to do that alone. I’ve got you. Always.”

You looked up at him, heart full and eyes still wet. “Even if I yell at you during contractions?”

“Especially then,” he grinned. “I expect at least one insult about my dumb haircut.”

You wiped your face and smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For loving me when I’m a mess.”

Matt cupped your cheek. “You’re not a mess. You’re a mom. And you’re doing amazing.”

You leaned into him again, this time with a little more peace in your chest. The fear hadn’t vanished—but it had been heard. Held. Shared.

And that made all the difference.

After a while, Matt tugged the blanket over both of you. “Come here,” he said softly. “Sleep now. We’ve got a baby to meet soon.”

You nodded, snuggling into his side as the baby gave one more gentle kick between you.

Title: thinking of cute names

The house was quiet in that golden, late-afternoon kind of way. Soft light spilled through the nursery curtains and reached all the way into the living room, painting everything in a sleepy warmth. You were parked on the couch, legs stretched out, an enormous pregnancy pillow wrapped around you like a tactical device. Your belly rose like a hill beneath your oversized sweatshirt—Matt’s, of course—and on top of it, sprawled like a furry king, was Leo.

The kitten had decided that your stomach was his personal cat bed now. And nothing, not shifting, poking, or gentle bribery with treats, had been able to convince him otherwise.

Matt walked in from the kitchen with a cup of tea in one hand and a paper notebook in the other. “Okay, hear me out—what if we name her something strong and cool. Like… Nova.”

You raised an eyebrow, one hand resting on Leo’s back. “Nova Sturniolo?”

He nodded seriously. “Like a star. Or a superhero.”

“Sounds like someone who owns a motorcycle and a leather jacket by age nine,” you mused.

“Exactly,” Matt grinned. “She’ll be a menace—in a good way.”

Leo let out a tiny purr, the sound vibrating right into your belly. The baby shifted, just slightly, like even she was reacting to the noise.

You smiled and looked down. “She’s definitely awake.”

Matt’s eyes lit up as he sat beside you, setting the tea on the table. “Do you think she can tell when the cat’s laying on her?”

“I think she’s plotting,” you said, stroking Leo gently. “She’s gonna come out and demand fur privileges. Probably think he’s her emotional support animal.”

“She’s gonna try to ride him like a tiny horse,” Matt snorted. “And Leo’s gonna scream and flop over like he’s being assassinated.”

You laughed, and the baby kicked again, a firm thump right beneath Leo’s paw. Leo blinked, looked mildly offended, and repositioned himself as if to say how dare she move.

Matt leaned over, resting a hand on your bump beside the kitten. “Okay, okay—what about softer names? Like Ellie. Or Lila. Or…”

He paused.

You turned to him. “What?”

“I kinda like the name Daisy.”

Your heart melted. “Daisy?”

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly shy. “It just feels… happy. Like, sunshine and baby giggles and finger paints on the fridge.”

You looked down at your belly, then at Leo—still holding the line like a fluffy general—and then back to Matt.

“I like Daisy,” you said softly. “It’s sweet. But not too sweet.”

“She can still grow up to own a leather jacket if she wants,” Matt added quickly.

“Obviously,” you grinned. “But she’ll also know how to make perfect daisy chains at recess and have a secret snack stash.”

Matt rested his forehead gently against yours. “Daisy Leo Sturniolo.”

You snorted. “We are not naming her after the cat.”

“But think of the drama.”

“She’ll sue us when she’s old enough to speak.”

Matt kissed you, slow and warm. “Okay. Daisy goes on the maybe list.”

You closed your eyes for a second, letting yourself sink into the comfort of it all—the weight of Leo on your belly, the hum of the baby moving, Matt’s hand over both of them like some quiet promise.

“She’s almost here,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back, eyes wide with the same wonder you felt. “And she’s gonna be so loved.”

Leo let out a sleepy mrrp, clearly agreeing. Or demanding dinner. It was hard to tell with him.

You looked at your little family—slightly chaotic, completely imperfect, and already filled with more love than you knew what to do with.

“Daisy’s got it good,” you said.

Title: setting up nursery 

(Matt gets Injury)

nursery was a pastel explosion.

Half-painted walls, tiny socks inexplicably pinned to a corkboard like art, and a stuffed bunny already claiming the glider chair as its throne. You were standing in the middle of it all, holding a tiny baby-sized onesie with “LOCAL CUTIE” printed across the front in glitter.

“I still think she needs this,” you said.

Matt appeared in the doorway, sweaty and determined, gripping the side of a half-assembled crib frame. “She also needs a place to sleep, not just seven hundred sarcastic onesies.”

“False. She can sleep on the onesies.”

Matt groaned as he shifted the crib in his arms. “Okay, I’m gonna bring this beast up the stairs. Stay here, don’t help—doctor’s orders.”

You saluted dramatically. “I’ll just be here nesting. Which is a fancy word for bossing you around from a seated position.”

He winked and turned, maneuvering the crib toward the stairs with far too much confidence for a man who definitely didn’t check his footing—

And then.

THUNK.

BANG.

“OH, COME ON—”

CRASH.

You heard a cascade of wooden pieces and what sounded suspiciously like a grown man bouncing off drywall.

Your heart stopped. “Matt?!”

You bolted out of the nursery, belly first, practically flying down the stairs like a worried penguin. There, at the bottom, was Matt in a tangled heap of crib slats, flattened cardboard, and his pride.

“I’m fine,” he wheezed.

“You are not fine!” you cried, dropping to your knees beside him. “You fell down an entire flight of stairs with a CRIB! Are you broken?! Is your spine okay?! Can you wiggle your toes?!”

Matt blinked up at you and pointed. “Yes. Wiggle confirmed. But my ankle feels like it tried to fight God and lost.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, heart pounding. “Okay. Okay. Couch. Couch now.”

With the strength of a panicked, emotionally unstable bear, you helped him hobble to the couch, where he groaned dramatically like he was starring in a war movie.

You immediately grabbed your phone and dialed. “I’m calling your brothers.”

Matt flopped back and muttered, “Tell Chris I want a milkshake if I lose this foot.”

Fifteen minutes later, the front door burst open.

“WE GOT A TEXT THAT SOMEONE BROKE SOMETHING,” Chris yelled as he stumbled in. “IS IT THE BABY?! IS IT MATT?! IS IT THE CRIB?!”

“It’s Matt,” you said, still near tears. “He fell. He twisted his ankle really bad. The crib exploded.”

Chris gasped. “Not the giraffe mobile!”

You pointed to the couch, where Matt raised his hand weakly. “Tell my story.”

“I’ll take him to the ER,” Chris said, already dragging a sockless sneaker onto his foot. “Nick, you stay here. Comfort the pregnant woman. Tell jokes. Feed her snacks. Do not let her Google anything.”

Nick appeared behind him, holding what was probably an emergency granola bar. “Copy that.”

Chris helped Matt hobble to the door while Matt dramatically groaned about how this was “a targeted attack by gravity.” Then they were gone, leaving you standing in the middle of your living room, the house suddenly too quiet.

You sank onto the arm of the chair, shoulders shaking.

“I should’ve just helped him,” you sniffled. “It’s my fault. He said not to. But I should’ve.”

Nick dropped the granola bar, crossed the room, and immediately pulled you into a hug. “Hey. No. Don’t do that. You didn’t trip him down the stairs. He just Matt’ed too hard.”

“But if I wasn’t pregnant—”

“—he still would’ve tried to carry that crib like Captain America,” Nick interrupted. “That man refuses to ask for help even when he’s holding furniture wider than the stairwell. This is not on you.”

You sniffled into his hoodie. “It really exploded.”

“I heard,” Nick said gently. “A true casualty. But hey… now you get to force him into a boot and laugh at him when he tries to limp up the stairs.”

You let out a watery laugh. “He’s gonna milk this injury so hard.”

“Oh, 100%. He’s gonna act like he’s on bedrest. Meanwhile you’re the one with a whole human inside you.”

You pulled back, wiping your face. “Thanks for staying with me.”

Nick shrugged. “Anytime. You’re family. And also I’m slightly invested in this baby because I’ve already bought her four onesies that say things like ‘I Cry For Snacks.’”

You laughed again. “You’re gonna be the ridiculous uncle, huh?”

“The cool ridiculous uncle,” Nick corrected. “Chris is the chaotic one. I’m the one who teaches her how to prank Matt by age four.”

You smiled, hand on your belly. “She’s already lucky to have you guys.”

Nick sat down beside you and opened the granola bar. “You’re lucky to have me too. Because I’m about to make you a milkshake. And then we’re watching whatever dumb show you want until Chris calls.”

You leaned on his shoulder. “Deal.”

And somewhere in the distance, Chris was probably yelling at a nurse about ankle dignity, while Matt asked if they could put sprinkles on hospital ice cream.

And somehow, in spite of it all—you felt better.

About two hours later, the front door opened again with a slam and a groan.

“I HAVE RETURNED,” Matt announced, dramatically limping into the living room with one arm around Chris and the other pointing to the clunky black boot strapped to his leg. “INJURED. BUT STRONG.”

You stood up fast, your hands instinctively going to your belly. “Oh my god—are you okay?! What did they say?!”

Chris rolled his eyes. “He sprained his ankle. Lightly.”

“Violently,” Matt corrected. “They said I should elevate it. And wear this boot. And not ‘do stairs unless necessary.’ Which means I now live on the couch. I am a couch man. This is my fate.”

Nick, still on the recliner, unpaused the show. “Bro, you twisted your ankle, not lost a limb in battle.”

“I’m injured, Nick,” Matt said, with a very dramatic hand to his chest. “I could’ve died.”

Chris flopped onto the other couch. “He made me stop at Dairy Queen on the way home and told the cashier I was his emotional support brother.”

“She gave me extra whipped cream,” Matt said proudly.

You walked over and gently hugged him around the weird angle of the boot. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He squeezed you back. “I scared you, didn’t I?”

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. “Yeah. A lot.”

He kissed your forehead. “I promise to never fight a staircase again.”

“You better not,” you mumbled. “I’m six months pregnant, I can’t be doing stairs and panic attacks.”

Chris stood up with a stretch. “Alright, my work here is done. He’s booted and babied. I’m gonna head out before he starts asking me to fluff pillows.”

Matt gave them both a mock salute from the couch. “Tell my story.”

Chris saluted back. “Your story will be one of minor injury and major whining.”

Nick leaned down and gave you a quick hug. “Text if you need anything. And no blaming yourself anymore, okay? Gravity is the real villain here.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Nick.”

As they walked out, you heard Chris mutter something about Matt having “Couch Goblin energy now” and Nick threatening to take a picture of him sleeping with an ice pack on his ankle.

Once the door shut behind them, the house went quiet again. You looked at Matt, sprawled on the couch like a wounded soldier—boot propped up, blanket already tucked around him like a burrito.

“You comfy?” you asked.

He patted the space beside him. “Come sit. We can start our new phase of life: Pregnant Girlfriend and Her One-Footed Hero.”

You curled up next to him and he pulled you close.

“Sorry I scared you,” he whispered, nuzzling your temple.

“Sorry I let you carry a crib like a dumbass,” you whispered back.

He snorted. “Fair.”

You both sat there, wrapped in a blanket, a little bruised, a little hormonal, but surrounded by love—and a comically loud Velcro boot.

“I can still build the nursery,” Matt said.

You looked at him. “How?”

He grinned. “From the floor. I’ll just army crawl between pieces.”

You laughed so hard you had to hold your belly. “You’re insane.”

“I’m in love,” he said, kissing your cheek.

Title: moving out

The U-Haul was crooked in the driveway.

Mostly because Chris had insisted on backing it in himself and then immediately given up when Leo jumped onto the dashboard and started meowing like a backseat driver.

It was chaos.

Boxes were stacked in weird places. Someone packed the cereal on top of the box labeled “FRAGILE.” Matt was running around with duct tape stuck to his hoodie. And Nick had been pretending to reorganize the snack cabinet for forty-five minutes instead of saying goodbye.

You stepped out of the house with a box labeled “Bathroom Stuff” and looked around.

It hit you all at once.

This was the last day here.

The last time you’d trip over one of Chris’s shoes in the hallway. The last time Nick would yell from the kitchen about the toaster “lying” to him. The last time you’d collapse on the couch next to all three of them and feel that oddly comforting, weirdly functional chaos that had been home.

Two hours didn’t seem that far—until now.

Matt came up behind you, brushing your hair off your shoulder. “You okay?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… wow.”

He looked around too. “Yeah.”

Chris ran by with a box labeled “Leo’s Kingdom,” nearly dropping it as Leo trotted behind him like a tiny, judgmental supervisor.

“I SWEAR if his toys spill all over this U-Haul I’m leaving them in the driveway,” Chris yelled.

Leo meowed like do it and see what happens.

Nick finally emerged from the kitchen, holding a single granola bar. “I’m rationing,” he said when Matt raised an eyebrow. “For emotional support.”

Chris dumped his box and flopped dramatically onto the U-Haul ramp. “So this is it, huh? You’re really gonna leave us. For a bathtub and a backyard and stable insulation.”

Matt snorted. “You make it sound like we’re moving across the country.”

“Two hours is across the country,” Chris said, flopping harder.

“You guys can visit literally any time,” you said. “Sleepovers. Every weekend. Holidays. I’ll make waffles.”

Chris didn’t answer.

You looked over and saw his jaw twitch. His eyes were glossy.

Nick stepped in fast. “He’s fine. Just being dramatic.”

Chris stood up a little too fast and hugged you without warning. “I’m gonna miss you,” he muttered.

You hugged him tighter. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

Then you felt it—his shoulders shaking.

You pulled back slightly. “Chris?”

He wiped his face aggressively. “It’s not about you! I mean it is! But it’s also Matt! I’ve lived with this man my entire life and now he’s leaving me for… parenting and property taxes!”

Matt came over, arms open. “Dude…”

Chris walked right into his chest and straight-up sobbed.

Not the fake crying he did when he lost Mario Kart. Real crying.

Ugly, sniffling, shoulder-hitching crying.

“I don’t know how to live in a house without you, bro,” he mumbled into Matt’s hoodie. “What if I forget to water myself or something?”

Matt laughed softly, eyes shining too. “You’re gonna be fine, man. You’ll have Nick. And the whole couch to yourself. And I’ll text you like… ten times a day.”

“You better,” Chris sniffled. “I want baby bump updates. Daily. Or I’m suing.”

Matt squeezed him tighter. “You’ll get them.”

Nick was quiet behind you. You turned and saw him chewing the inside of his cheek, staring at the ground.

You stepped toward him.

“Hey,” you said softly.

He looked up. “I’m not crying.”

You smiled. “I didn’t say you were.”

He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket. “It’s just weird, you know? I know we knew this was coming. But… now it’s real. You guys aren’t just down the hall anymore.”

“I know,” you said. “It’s weird for us too.”

He glanced at the U-Haul. “Leo’s gonna forget us.”

Leo chose that moment to jump into the front seat like I would never. Then immediately started chewing the seatbelt.

You laughed. “He’ll never forget the man who once shared a chicken nugget with him at 3 a.m.”

Nick finally smiled. “That was a good nugget.”

You stepped in and wrapped your arms around him. He hesitated, then hugged you back—tight.

“We’ll come back all the time,” you said. “I promise. And when the baby’s here, you’ll probably get sick of us.”

Nick nodded. “You better let me teach the baby how to play Uno.”

“Absolutely not,” Matt called from behind you. “You cheat.”

“I strategize,” Nick snapped back.

Chris wiped his eyes one last time and clapped his hands. “Okay. Time to send you off before I get emotionally unstable again.”

“You’re already emotionally unstable,” Matt muttered.

Chris sniffed. “Your words have no power now. You’re moving out.”

You laughed as you all walked toward the U-Haul. The sun was starting to dip, casting long shadows over the driveway. It felt final—but also… like the beginning.

Matt helped you into the passenger seat. Leo curled up instantly in your lap like he’d claimed it for the ride.

As the engine started, Chris and Nick stood together on the curb.

Chris waved both arms like an air traffic controller having a breakdown.

Nick flipped Matt off with both hands, then smiled.

And as you pulled away, with a full truck, a sleepy cat, and the love of your life in the driver’s seat, you looked back through the window and mouthed:

“Love you guys.”

And they mouthed it back.

Title: talking about moving

The living room was a disaster.

An open bag of Takis lay forgotten on the floor. One of Chris’s hoodies hung off a ceiling fan for reasons no one would explain. The TV blared a chaotic YouTube video, and somewhere in the background, Leo was aggressively scratching the corner of the couch like it had personally wronged him.

You were curled up on the couch with a pillow pressed against your lower stomach, trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t make your back feel like it was crumbling into Lego pieces. Matt sat beside you, one arm slung lazily over your shoulder, the other hand scrolling on Zillow like it was TikTok.

“You know what would fix this?” he said casually, showing you a photo of a house with a turquoise door and a suspiciously large mailbox.

“A bigger mailbox?” you asked.

Matt snorted. “A house. A real one. With space. For us. And the bean.”

You blinked at him. “You’re serious.”

Chris walked in at that exact moment, holding a bag of frozen peas and a suspicious amount of string cheese. “Who’s serious?”

Matt didn’t even look up. “Thinking about moving out.”

Chris dropped the peas.

“You’re leaving us?” he gasped, like you’d just told him you were moving to Mars.

Nick entered the room five seconds later, heard moving out, and immediately groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this domestic couple thing now.”

“You’ve known I was pregnant for a month,” you said flatly.

“Yeah, but I thought we had, like, time before you started looking at porch lights and mortgages and whatever.” Nick flopped onto the other couch, dramatically grabbing a throw pillow like it could shield him from adulthood.

Chris pointed an accusatory cheese stick at Matt. “This is your fault. You’re nesting.”

Matt looked offended. “I am not nesting. I just don’t want our kid crawling on that rug.” He pointed at the mystery stain in the center of the living room. “Pretty sure that’s haunted.”

You laughed.

But the idea was already rooting itself deeper into your brain.

You glanced around—the space that had been home for so long. Full of late-night snack runs and yelling over Mario Kart, of laughing until you cried and sleeping on the couch because the bean made your stomach twist like a pretzel.

But now… you were two months in. There was a tiny person growing inside you. And for the first time, the idea of having a space that was just yours and Matt’s didn’t feel like running away.

It felt like growing up. Together.

“You guys would still see us all the time,” you said gently. “We’d be, like… twenty minutes away. You’d be uncles.”

Chris sat down on the armrest beside you. “I already am an uncle. I tell people at Target all the time.”

Nick snorted. “Dude, you told the pizza guy last week and made him cry.”

Chris beamed. “He said he was proud of me.”

Matt turned the phone toward the group again. “Okay, but look—this one has three bedrooms, a backyard, and a weird tiny room that we could turn into a nursery.”

Chris peered at the screen. “What’s that thing by the door?”

“An umbrella stand,” Matt said.

Chris squinted. “Why does it look like a haunted bird feeder?”

Nick made a face. “Pass. The energy in that foyer is cursed.”

You rolled your eyes. “You two are the least helpful real estate agents ever.”

Chris held a hand to his chest. “Excuse you. I am an emotional consultant. I’m here to make sure you don’t move into a house with, like, evil vibes or whatever.”

Nick smirked. “You’re not leaving because you’re tired of us, right?”

You gave him a soft smile. “No. I love you guys. But we’ve got a baby coming. And as much as I love the chaos of this house, I think the bean deserves something a little calmer.”

Chris immediately stood up and saluted. “I respect the mission. But if you don’t get a guest room, I’m sleeping in the nursery.”

“You’ll have to fight Leo for it,” Matt muttered.

Leo meowed loudly from the hallway, like try me.

You leaned your head on Matt’s shoulder and whispered, “Let’s start looking for real. Something cozy. Somewhere we can paint the nursery ourselves. Somewhere the bean can take their first steps without tripping over pizza boxes.”

Matt smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah. Let’s build something new.”

Nick groaned from the couch. “Ugh. Domesticity. Disgusting.”

Chris wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Our little Matt grew up so fast.”

Leo meowed again, loudly, then dramatically knocked over the bag of Takis with his paw like thank God.

Matt looked at the mess, then at you. “We’re definitely getting our own place.”

And this time, it felt real.

Not scary.

Not rushed.

Title: telling your parents

You should’ve known the flight was going to be a disaster when Leo screamed in his carrier the second you stepped into the terminal.

“We are never—never—flying with this cat again,” Matt muttered, wrestling with the carrier’s zipper while balancing your emotional support water bottle and your tote bag full of barf mints and pregnancy snacks.

Leo howled like someone had personally offended his ancestors.

“He’s just scared,” you murmured, crouching slightly to pat the mesh. “He doesn’t understand travel.”

“He’s a terrorist,” Matt whispered. “And I say that with love.”

You were 11 weeks pregnant—barely showing, just a soft curve under your hoodie, but already totally exhausted. And between the heat, the airport chaos, and your wildly hormonal body, you were two seconds from crying over a pretzel.

Matt saw it in your face.

“We’ll get through this,” he promised, handing you a ginger candy and kissing your forehead. “One flight. Three hours. No barf. No drama.”

He jinxed it.

⸻

The flight wasn’t awful. It was eventful…

Leo cried for 70% of it. You cried for maybe 20%. And Matt cried inside his soul the entire time.

An old woman next to you leaned in at one point and whispered, “Your cat is very vocal.”

Matt smiled politely. “So is the baby.”

“Baby?” she gasped.

You rubbed your bump. “Eleven weeks.”

“God bless you,” she said, and gave you a peppermint.

Midway through the flight, after throwing up ginger ale into a bag shaped like sadness, you unzipped Leo’s carrier just enough to let him peek out. And to everyone’s surprise—including Matt’s—he didn’t freak out.

Instead, he poked his fluffy little head out, sniffed the air suspiciously, and climbed directly into your lap.

“Leo—wait, buddy—” Matt started.

But Leo didn’t climb just into your lap.

He climbed onto your belly.

The small bump that had barely started showing. The one you’d cried over in the bathroom that morning because it made none of your jeans fit. Leo climbed right on top of it, curled into a soft little ball of warm fluff, and rested his chin gently across it.

Then he started purring. Loudly. Like a tiny engine.

You blinked back tears.

“He’s… protecting it,” Matt whispered.

“He knows,” you said softly, one hand on your belly, the other on Leo’s back. “He’s gonna be the best big brother.”

Leo meowed like obviously.

⸻

Getting to your parents’ house was its own chaos.

Matt had to chase Leo through the rental car parking lot after the little demon escaped his harness. You got sunburned on your arm just standing outside for five minutes. Leo meowed at every palm tree like they were threatening his honor.

But finally, finally, you pulled into your childhood driveway.

“You ready for this?” Matt asked, glancing at the house like it might explode.

“No,” you said. “But my mom loves you. And if my dad glares too hard, Leo can pee on him.”

Leo meowed in agreement.

⸻

Your mom opened the door like she’d been waiting since 6 a.m.

“My baby!” she cried, pulling you into a cloud of lemon-scented joy. “And my favorite future son-in-law!”

Behind her, your dad crossed his arms. “You brought the cat.”

You held up the carrier proudly. “His name is Leo, and he’s family.”

Leo chose that moment to let out the most dramatic, guttural mrowww you’d ever heard.

Your dad blinked. “He sounds like a lawnmower.”

“He has feelings,” Matt said defensively.

“Sure he does,” your dad muttered, already turning to go back inside.

Dinner was your mom’s famous baked ziti. The wine was flowing. The vibes were tense.

Your mom kept beaming at Matt like he was her golden child.

Your dad kept sipping wine like he was trying not to throw it.

Leo immediately climbed onto the table, sniffed the salad, and then plopped himself—tail first—into the breadbasket.

No one dared to move him.

⸻

You waited until dessert.

Your mom brought out a slightly wobbly cheesecake. Your dad poured more wine.

You reached for Matt’s hand under the table and gave it a quick squeeze.

“So,” you said, heart pounding, “we actually wanted to tell you something.”

Your mom gasped. “You’re getting married!”

Your dad groaned. “You’re moving in with the cat.”

You smiled. “Nope. I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Leo purred loudly from your lap, where he had, once again, curled up directly over your belly like a warm, fuzzy shield.

Matt added, “Eleven weeks. Healthy baby. Due in March.”

Your mom screamed like she’d won the lottery.

“MY BABY IS HAVING A BABY! I NEED TO CALL PATTI. WHERE’S MY IPAD? I’M MAKING A PINTEREST BOARD—”

Your dad just stared.

Then blinked.

Then said, “Did you… do this to my daughter?”

Matt froze like a deer in headlights. “I—I mean—yes? But, like, lovingly?”

You snorted.

“He’s been amazing,” you said quickly. “He reads pregnancy books. He goes to every appointment. He rubs my back for hours.”

Matt nodded. “And Leo’s already bonded with the baby. He lays on her belly. He’s very gentle.”

Leo let out a sleepy chirp of approval, paws kneading softly over your bump.

Your dad sighed. Long. Loud.

Then shoved a forkful of cheesecake in his mouth and muttered, “Don’t screw it up.”

Your mom had already disappeared to plan gender reveal balloon ideas.

Matt leaned over and kissed your cheek.

Leo purred louder.

You smiled.

This was chaotic. And messy. And overwhelming.

Pregnant!user + boyfriend!matt:

Pt: 1 https://www.tumblr.com/mattspumpkinstuffedanimal/791446743607820288

Pt:2

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Pt:10

Girlfriend!user + cheater boyfriend!matt

Pt:1

Pt:2

Pt:3

Pt:4

Pt:5

Pregnant!user + boyfriend!chris

Pt:1

Pt:2

Pt:3

Pt:4

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Pt:8

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Pt:10

Girlfriend!user + cheater boyfriend!chris

Pt:1

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Pt:4

Title: telling Matt’s parents

You should’ve known this flight was going to be a disaster the second you woke up with a migraine and nausea so bad you could barely keep water down.

Five weeks pregnant. Barely showing — just the softest, barely-there curve under your hoodie. But somehow, that little bump already had your whole body spiraling out of control.

Matt hovered from the minute you stepped into the airport. One hand steady on your back. The other carrying Leo’s carrier. You’d already thrown up twice in the airport bathrooms, and the flight hadn’t even started yet.

Chris and Nick carried most of the luggage. Between them, they’d packed an absurd amount of ginger ale, gum, and barf bags. Nick had even downloaded an entire playlist called “Songs To Distract Y/N From Puking On Me.”

But still. Nothing helped.

By the time you sat down in your seat, you felt like crying again. The cramps were awful. Your head was splitting. Your stomach was in constant knots.

Matt carefully pulled out the ice pack he’d stashed for this, pressing it to your temple, tucking you gently into his side. “You’re okay. You’re okay, baby. Just lean on me. I’ve got you.”

You let your eyes close, let his hand rub slow, gentle circles over your back, let Leo curl up across your lap like he always did now — head resting right on your stomach. Like he knew. Like he’d already decided this baby belonged to him.

“You’re doing good,” Matt whispered. “We’re almost home. Almost there.”

Nick, ahead of you, turned around every twenty minutes just to check you hadn’t died. Chris kept offering gum like it might magically solve all your problems.

Somewhere over Pennsylvania, you cried again. Quiet tears. Overwhelmed, sick, tired.

Matt just kissed your hair, squeezed your hand, whispered: “We’re in this together. Just a little longer.”

⸻

By the time you landed, you were pale and shaking and could barely keep your head up.

Matt helped you to the nearest bathroom without hesitation. Nick guarded the door. Chris fetched water.

You threw up. Again. And again. And again.

When it was finally over, when you were weak and clammy and humiliated, Matt knelt in front of you, brushing sweaty hair from your face, his eyes full of nothing but love.

“You’re so strong, baby. I’m proud of you. I’m sorry this is so hard.”

Tears leaked down your face. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through the next few weeks feeling like this.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Matt promised. “You’ve got me. You’ve got Nick and Chris. And soon… you’ll have my mom. You know how she is. Once she knows? You’re not gonna lift a finger.”

You gave the weakest, most exhausted laugh. “I guess… we’re telling them now, huh?”

Matt kissed your forehead. “Yeah. We are.”

⸻

Mary Lou practically tackled you at the door. “Oh honey, you look exhausted. Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? You’re so pale — Matty, why didn’t you call me sooner?!”

You let her fuss, let her pull you gently into the living room, wrap you in blankets. Jimmy greeted you with his usual quiet warmth, hugging you like family — because you already were.

Leo stretched dramatically out of his carrier and immediately claimed the couch, sprawling across your lap like a living heating pad.

Mary Lou fussed. Jimmy fetched drinks. Matt settled beside you, protective as ever, his hand rubbing circles over your knee.

Nick and Chris hovered awkwardly until Matt shot them a look. “Can you… give us a sec?”

They took the hint.

Mary Lou, still fretting, asked: “Are you sick? Should we take you to urgent care? You look miserable, honey.”

Matt squeezed your hand. “No, she’s… she’s okay. Well. Not okay. But… we found out why.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

You swallowed, your throat tight, your head still pounding. “I… I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Mary Lou blinked. Once. Twice.

Then her face split into the biggest smile you’d ever seen.

“Pregnant?”

You nodded, tears spilling over before you could stop them. “Five weeks. We just found out. I’ve been really sick.”

“Oh my God—!” Mary Lou was hugging you before you could even finish the sentence. Carefully, gently, but with so much warmth it made your chest ache. “Honey, congratulations. Oh my God. Oh my God, Matty! You’re gonna be a dad! I’m gonna be a grandma!”

Jimmy’s smile was quieter but just as full. He wrapped you in his arms next. “We’re so happy for you. Both of you.”

Leo let out a lazy chirp and stretched a paw over your stomach, claiming his territory.

“Well,” Mary Lou laughed, wiping tears from her own eyes, “looks like someone already knows he’s got competition.”

Matt kissed your temple, his hand resting protectively over Leo’s. “I told you they’d be excited.”

⸻

You spent the evening wrapped in blankets on the Sturniolos’ couch. Mary Lou made you tea. Jimmy built Leo a little perch by the window so he could keep watch without smothering you.

Nick and Chris stayed close. Snacks. Water bottles. Quiet reassurances.

“You’re home now,” Matt whispered, curling against you, his hand resting over your tiny bump. “You’re safe. You’re loved. We’ve got you.”

Title: Chris finds out

It had been a week.

One long, miserable, never-ending week.

You hadn’t kept down a meal in days. Even water was a gamble. Your body ached. Your head hurt. The nausea never let up. Matt did everything he could — brought you ginger ale, crackers, cold washcloths, kissed your forehead, whispered I’m sorry you feel like this against your skin like apologies could fix biology.

Nick showed up with heating pads and Gatorade and sour candy that made you gag but it was sweet of him to try.

Chris… hadn’t said anything. Not yet. But he wasn’t stupid.

He noticed the dark circles under your eyes. How you flinched at certain smells. How you’d disappear to the bathroom and come back pale, shaking, pretending it was fine. He noticed how Matt hovered like he didn’t trust the ground to stay beneath your feet. How Nick had gotten weirdly good at running errands for things like dry crackers and mint tea and more tissues, dude, she’s crying again.

Chris noticed.

He just didn’t know what to say.

⸻

It was worse today.

Matt and Nick had left together — some mission to get whatever “comfort things” they hadn’t already bought in bulk. Fuzzy socks. Peppermint gum. Saltines shaped like tiny stars because maybe the shapes will help.

That left you and Chris alone.

Which hadn’t been the plan.

You barely made it to the bathroom before you were throwing up again, your knees weak, your hands shaking as you clung to the sink. Your chest hurt from how hard you’d heaved; your throat burned.

Chris knocked, tentatively. “You… okay in there?”

You wanted to laugh because — obviously not.

But all that came out was a pitiful whimper.

Chris didn’t wait for permission. He cracked the door open, carefully, respectfully, found you slumped against the side of the tub, tears leaking from your eyes even though you weren’t crying on purpose.

“Oh… hey, woah, okay.” His voice softened instantly. “Come on. Let me—” He crouched awkwardly, helping you sit up straighter, steadying you with a hand between your shoulder blades. “That bad, huh?”

You nodded, miserable.

Chris grabbed a towel, dampened it under the cold tap, pressed it gently to the back of your neck. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m okay,” you rasped. “It’s… just…”

His brow furrowed. “You’ve been like this for days. You and Matt are acting weird. Nick’s acting weirder. I don’t know what’s going on, but—”

You hiccupped on another wave of nausea, your stomach clenching painfully. Chris steadied you again without hesitation. “Hey, breathe. Just breathe, okay? I got you.”

Something cracked open in your chest — all the exhaustion, all the fear, all the hiding.

“It’s because I’m pregnant,” you said.

Silence.

Chris’s hand stilled. The washcloth hung forgotten between his fingers.

“Oh,” he said. Soft. Small. “Oh.”

You nodded, tears slipping free now for real. “I’ve known a week. Matt… found out first. Nick overheard. You’re the last one. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to… how to tell you.”

Chris sat back on his heels, blinking hard, processing. “You’re… really…?”

You gave a watery laugh. “Really.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Okay. Okay. That… makes sense. I mean, not in a haha, what a normal Tuesday way, but… why you’ve been sick. Why they’re babying you. Why you’re crying all the time.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He shook his head, gentle. “I just… I wish I’d known sooner.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “I didn’t mean to leave you out.”

Chris smiled — soft, a little sad. “I know. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck a little.”

He helped you up, slow and steady, got you back to the couch, wrapped you in a blanket like you were made of glass. Stayed beside you, handed you water, rubbed your back when another wave of nausea curled through your stomach.

“I’m glad I know now,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you told me.”

⸻

When Matt and Nick came home, bags in hand, chatter loud, they found you curled against Chris, your head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing absentminded circles over your knee like it was instinct now.

Chris looked up at Matt, something unreadable in his face. “You told Nick first?”

Matt froze, guilt flashing like lightning behind his eyes. “I—he overheard—”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Nick raised his hands like do not drag me into this.

Chris wasn’t mad, not really. He was… sad. Hurt. A little left out in a way that stung deeper than he expected. “I thought we told each other everything.”

Matt set the bags down slowly. Sat across from him. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t… about you. I was just scared. I still am.”

Chris’s gaze dropped to your blanket-wrapped form. “Yeah. Me too.”

Matt’s expression softened. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. I’m here.”

Nick, awkwardly: “So… anyone want some sour candy? Or… fuzzy socks?”

You laughed — tired, hoarse, but real. “I’ll take the socks.”

Chris smiled, small but genuine. “Yeah. Me too.”

And when Matt settled beside you and Nick tossed you the softest pair of socks he could find, Chris leaned his head back, breathed deep, and thought:

Title: the morning after

You didn’t sleep much after that. Neither did Matt.

Mostly, you just laid there in the quiet hum of the apartment—Leo purring, Matt’s hand steady on your stomach, your fingers laced weakly through his like you both needed the reminder that neither of you were going anywhere.

Eventually, though, exhaustion won.

Somewhere between your tears drying and Matt’s anxious thoughts slowing, you both dozed off like that: forehead to forehead, Leo curled between you like some kind of peace offering from the universe.

⸻

Morning came whether you were ready for it or not.

You woke to the sound of quiet murmuring just outside the bedroom door, Matt’s weight still warm against your side. His face was soft with sleep, mouth parted slightly, hair a mess.

“I don’t care if it’s 9AM, it’s an emergency,” Nick was saying, muffled but clear enough through the thin apartment walls. “Matt needs waffles. Like, the good ones. From that place on Main.”

Pause.

“No, I’m not kidding. He’s freaking out and I need reinforcements.”

Another pause.

“No, I’m not telling you why. Just… trust me. Extra syrup. Thanks.”

You bit back a tired, almost delirious laugh.

Of course Nick’s version of support was aggressively sourcing comfort food.

Matt stirred beside you at the sound of your quiet snort. He blinked awake slowly, confusion clouding his face until memory settled over him again like a blanket he didn’t ask for. His hand immediately found yours. His thumb resumed its slow, soothing circles.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice scratchy.

“Morning,” you echoed.

For a moment, you just looked at each other. Not panicking, not crying. Just… processing. Together.

Then Matt whispered, like it was the biggest confession of his life:

“I had a dream I was trying to build a crib but it kept turning into a bookshelf and Nick was there yelling at me about screws.”

You let out a watery laugh despite yourself. “That sounds… about right.”

“Think it’s a sign?” he asked, managing a faint smile.

“That you’re gonna be a disaster with Ikea furniture?” you teased, brushing hair from his forehead. “Absolutely.”

His smile grew just a little, softer now. “I really wanna get this right.”

“I know,” you said. “Me too.”

⸻

By the time you both finally ventured out of the bedroom, Nick was already back—with waffles, hashbrowns, and a plastic bag full of Gatorade bottles like some kind of hungover big brother starter pack.

He didn’t say much. Just handed Matt a takeout box, set another in front of you, and muttered, “Eat something. Both of you look like you fought a war in your sleep.”

Matt gave a grateful little noise, already digging into the waffles like they might hold the answers to your entire future.

You looked at Nick, something soft catching in your throat. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, but his eyes were kind. “Family’s family. Even if none of us know what we’re doing yet.”

Matt paused mid-bite. “You’re really… okay with this?”

Nick gave him a look. “Does it matter? You’re my brother. You’re scared. You’re trying. That’s enough for me.”

Matt’s jaw worked like he was trying not to get emotional again. “Thanks, man.”

“Stop thanking me,” Nick said, but his hand ruffled Matt’s hair on the way past. “Eat your damn waffles.”

⸻

Later, after the food was gone and the apartment settled quiet again, Nick stood by the door like he wasn’t sure whether to leave or hover forever.

“You know,” he said, tone careful, “Chris is gonna figure it out eventually.”

“Eventually,” Matt agreed. “But… not today.”

Nick nodded, like that was fair.

“Just… don’t shut us out, alright?” he added, softer now. “You don’t have to figure this out alone. You’ve got me. And Chris. And… weirdly, Leo.”

Leo, still lounging proudly on your lap, meowed like he agreed.

“We won’t shut you out,” you promised.

Nick smiled. “Good. Because I’ve already got a list of the worst baby names imaginable, and I fully intend to make Matt read every single one.”

“You’re evil,” Matt said, but he was smiling too.

“Somebody’s gotta keep things interesting,” Nick said with a wink.

Then he was gone—leaving behind only the smell of syrup and the soft echo of loyalty that hung in the air long after the door clicked shut.

⸻

Matt turned to you, quieter again now that it was just the two of you. His hand found your belly like it was instinct already.

“We’re really doing this,” he said.

You leaned into him. “Yeah. We are.”

He kissed your temple. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

But beneath the fear, something else had started to take root. Something slow, something steady. Something shaped like hope.

Matt pressed his forehead to yours. “Together, okay?”

You smiled. “Together.”

Leo purred in agreement.

Title: okay this is seriously happening

Matt hadn’t moved for what felt like forever.

You could practically hear the gears grinding in his head. His wide eyes were stuck on your tear-streaked face, his hand hovering somewhere near his mouth like he was physically holding back words.

“I—okay,” he finally said, breathless. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Um… I need… water? Do you need water? I need to sit up. I’m sitting up.”

He shifted clumsily on the bed, sitting straighter, rubbing his hands over his face like that might wake him up from this version of reality.

“You’re… you’re sure? The test was—? There’s no, like, false positives or something?”

You let out a broken, watery laugh. “I took three.”

“Oh.” Matt blinked. “That’s… thorough.”

⸻

Matt’s panic wasn’t loud. It wasn’t yelling or pacing or storming out.

It was in the way he kept running his fingers through his hair, the way he couldn’t seem to look at you for more than a second before looking at your stomach.

His gaze flicked to Leo, still sprawled happily across your belly like a weird little weighted blanket.

“This is our fault,” Matt mumbled, eyes pinched shut like admitting it made it worse. “We were drunk. We were idiots. This isn’t on you, okay? It’s both of us. We did this together.”

You wiped your face again, sniffling. “Yeah, but now it’s… me. In me.”

Matt’s hand trembled a little as he laid it gently over where Leo’s head rested. His palm pressed against your stomach, warm and tentative like he thought he might scare something by touching too hard.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you whispered.

“Me either,” he whispered back. “But I’m not going anywhere. I need you to know that. I’m scared, yeah. But I’m here.”

⸻

What neither of you realized was that Nick had been in the kitchen this whole time.

2AM, hoodie half on, hair a mess, stirring ramen like his life depended on it.

He hadn’t meant to overhear.

But… thin apartment walls. Raised voices. The words “I’m pregnant.”

Yeah.

He hovered awkwardly outside the cracked bedroom door, bowl of ramen forgotten on the counter.

You didn’t even notice him until Matt, still rubbing soothing circles on your belly with one hand, sighed, “What are we even supposed to do? Call Nick? Tell Chris? Move to another country?”

“You could… start by realizing I’m literally ten feet away and heard all of this.”

You jumped. Matt jumped. Leo didn’t move.

Nick stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows somewhere near his hairline. “So… uh. Surprise?”

Matt groaned into his hands. “Of course. Of course you heard this.”

⸻

Nick didn’t tease.

Didn’t laugh.

Didn’t even smirk.

He just walked in, sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, and said, “Are you okay?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “I… I don’t know.”

Nick nodded, like that was fair. “Matt’s being a dumbass about it but he’ll figure it out. You know he will.”

Matt, from under his hands: “I’m sitting right here.”

“You’re not helping,” Nick said without looking at him. His eyes stayed on you. “You don’t have to tell Chris if you’re not ready. I won’t say anything.”

“Promise?” you asked, because right now that felt like one small thing you could control.

Nick held up his pinky. “Swear on my life. Not a word to Chris until you say so.”

You linked pinkies with him. “Thank you.”

⸻

Nick stayed for a few more minutes. Just sitting quietly. No jokes. No teasing.

Matt had finally pulled himself together enough to lace his fingers with yours over your belly, Leo still purring like a tiny engine of calm.

“I’m gonna go eat my ramen,” Nick said finally, pushing himself up. “You two… talk. Or cry. Or panic more. Whatever you need. Just… I’m here, alright?”

“Thanks, Nick,” Matt said, voice softer now. “Really.”

Nick waved him off like it wasn’t a big deal. “Don’t screw it up.”

Then, with a ghost of a smile, he was gone.

⸻

Once the apartment settled quiet again, Matt leaned his forehead against yours. His hand never left your belly. Leo stretched and yawned like he was part of this conversation.

“I’m scared,” Matt admitted quietly. “I don’t know how to do this. But… I want to figure it out with you. I want to try. For you. For… them.”

Your heart cracked open a little at the softness in his voice.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Mad?” Matt blinked like the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “No. I’m terrified, yeah. But mad? Never.”

His thumb brushed slow circles under your hand, over the tiny secret neither of you fully understood yet.

Leo let out a soft little chirp, curling tighter against you.

“Looks like Leo’s already attached,” Matt said, a small smile breaking through the fear. “Guess I don’t get a say anymore.”

You laughed, watery but real. “Looks like none of us do.”

Matt kissed your temple, his touch lingering and warm. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Outside the door, Nick slurped his ramen and texted Chris exactly nothing.

Title: shit, no, no this can’t be

You’d been putting it off all day.

The unopened pregnancy test sat on the bathroom counter like it was mocking you.

Matt was out with Nick and Chris, filming another chaotic car video. Laughing, loud, carefree — meanwhile, you sat in the apartment, curled up on the bathroom floor with nausea twisting your stomach into knots.

You hadn’t told him how sick you’d been feeling lately.

You hadn’t told him how scared you were.

You hadn’t told him anything.

Because if you said it out loud… it might be real.

But you couldn’t avoid it anymore.

⸻

You took the test.

Watched the seconds tick by.

Cried the second you saw the result.

Pregnant.

Not maybe. Not probably.

Definitely.

Your vision blurred with tears as you sank to the cold bathroom floor, pulling your knees up and pressing your forehead to them.

“I can’t do this. I can’t… I’m not ready. I don’t want to be a mom.”

You didn’t realize you were speaking out loud until a soft weight pressed into your lap.

Leo.

Your tiny, loyal Maine Coon kitten.

Crawling into your lap, curling up against your belly like he knew something was changing inside you.

Like he could feel it.

His head rested right where your hand had unconsciously settled over your stomach. His little purrs were soft, steady, comforting.

You cried harder.

“You’re too little to be a big brother, Leo…” you whispered, trying to laugh through the tears. “You don’t even know how to use the litter box properly yet.”

Leo didn’t move. Just pressed closer, warm and solid and silent.

⸻

Hours passed.

You didn’t move from the couch.

Leo stayed glued to your side, head still pressed to your belly like he was guarding something precious.

You barely noticed the apartment door open around 1AM.

Matt’s laughter filtered in — soft, tired, happy. Chris and Nick mumbling something about editing later.

“Alright, night, Matt,” Nick called.

“Text me if Leo breaks something again,” Chris added.

Door shut. Silence.

Matt’s footsteps, heading your way.

“Babe? You still up?”

You couldn’t speak. Just sat there, curled under a blanket, Leo on your lap like some weird, fluffy security blanket.

Matt rounded the corner, hoodie half-off, hair messy, smiling like he always did when he finally came home to you.

The second he saw your face, he stopped.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Why’re you crying?”

You swallowed hard. “Can we… talk? But not yet. Just… sit with me for a second.”

Matt, instantly concerned, crossed the room and sat down beside you without another word. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in close.

Leo, still curled on your stomach, didn’t budge.

Matt gave a confused little laugh. “Why’s he glued to you like that? He hasn’t moved since I left?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think he’s gonna.”

Matt kissed your temple. “Whatever’s wrong… we’ll figure it out, okay?”

You wanted to believe that.

⸻

It wasn’t until almost 2AM that you finally said it.

Matt had showered. Changed into sweatpants. Made you tea you couldn’t drink because the smell made your stomach turn.

He came back to find you staring blankly at Leo, your hand still resting on your stomach like it had been glued there for hours.

“Talk to me, babe. Please. You’re freaking me out a little.”

Your throat felt tight as you forced the words out.

“I took a test tonight.”

Matt blinked, clearly confused. “What kind of test? Like… a COVID test or something?”

You gave a broken little laugh, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “No… a pregnancy test.”

Silence.

Matt’s hand, which had been resting on your leg, went still.

“I’m pregnant, Matt.”

The words sounded foreign, like they belonged to someone else.

You watched as they sank in, watched every trace of sleepiness drain from his face.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink at first.

Just sat there, staring at you, at Leo purring softly against your belly, like the world had tilted sideways and he wasn’t sure how to stand up straight anymore.

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of Matt’s hoodie — the one you’d stolen from his closet hours ago when everything still felt terrifying and lonely.

“I didn’t want this. Not now. Not yet. I’m scared, Matt. I’m so scared.”

Still… nothing.

Just his wide eyes locked on you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I know this isn’t what either of us planned. I just… I didn’t know who else to tell.”

Matt’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for you… but didn’t know how.

Leo let out a soft, sleepy meow, head still pressed to your stomach like he was guarding a secret none of you were ready to admit out loud yet.

And Matt?

Still silent.

Still staring.