Just A Perfect Apple
Reread Part One.
*
Cash was already a few beers in (on the house, of course) when Brendon appeared out of the back office and plopped down next to him at the bar. Cash had no idea where Alex was. In fact, he hadn’t seen him for a while since he’d gotten there and accosted him, demanding free drinks. He wasn’t concerned, though. Alex was working, after all, and Cash didn’t need to be around him all the time, despite what Johnson might say at times.
“Hey, Cash,” Brendon greeted him and Cash nodded back. He liked Brendon. He was cool for a guy who owned a piano bar. “What’s up?”
Cash shrugged, draining the last of his beer and grinning at Greta, who took it away and replaced it with a new one. “Not much. You? Still married?”
“Still married,” Brendon confirmed happily. “Ryan’s busy with whatever his latest novel is, getting it ready for the publisher.”
“Is it the one about the bar?” Cash asked, peeling the label off the bottle in front of him. At the piano, Patrick was playing some melancholy song that he didn’t feel fit the atmosphere in the moment.
Brendon shrugged. “He never lets me read them ahead of time. So, Cash,” he said, turning more towards Cash as Cash took a swig of his beer. Everything tasted better when it was free. “I heard you were in here with Alex the other day.”
“Uh, yeah,” Cash replied. “I’m always in here with DeLeon.”
“Yeah, but you were in the back with Alex.”
“What?” Cash glanced at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
Brendon gave him a look that he supposed meant he was supposed to know what he was talking about. He had no idea.
Brendon smiled, shaking a finger at Cash while Cash looked confused. “I always thought, but I didn’t want to say anything. I’m glad you figured it out.”
“What?” Cash said again as Brendon smirked, but Brendon never explained because there was a shriek from the back and Alex came rushing out, eyes falling on Cash as he made a beeline, pushing aside chairs.
“Cash!” he cried, voice ecstatic, and for once, Cash didn’t even have to ask as Alex beamed and grabbed him into a hug with his scrawny arms.
Brendon just gave him a knowing look as he breezed away to relieve Patrick for his break.
Cash stood there, confused and staring after Brendon, and only hugging Alex back once he realized Alex’s smile was burned into his mind and he couldn’t blink it away.
*
Alex liked Dr. Beckett. He seemed smart, which Alex assumed was a good qualification to be a doctor.
“So how far along are you?” Dr. Beckett asked, checking the chart as Alex sat on the chair, squirming slightly. He didn’t really know why he was so nervous.
“A little over a month,” Alex replied, tapping his fingers together and glancing around the office. It was just like any other doctor’s office with Dr. Beckett’s medical certification tacked up on the wall, surrounded by diagrams of babies and pregnant people.
“And what about the father?” Dr. Beckett asked, scanning the second page of his file.
“Oh, there is no father,” Alex said, and when Dr. Beckett looked up, rambled on. “Well, I mean, there’s a father, obviously, but he’s not, like, you know, involved.”
“Artificial insemination?” Dr. Beckett guessed lightly, but Alex shook his head.
“Well, sort of. It was my friend - no, not like that, um. He just offered to and so yeah. That probably sounds really stupid, doesn’t it,” Alex muttered, chewing on his lip, but Dr. Beckett laughed.
“I’ve heard worse, trust me. It was nice he was willing to do this for you. So he’s not going to be involved at all?”
“No.” Alex laughed nervously. “He would be the world’s worst father, I’m pretty sure.”
Dr. Beckett nodded thoughtfully. “Well, if you’ll lie back, we can get started. If it has been a month, we should be able to get something on the ultrasound, but it might be another few weeks until we get a real, strong heartbeat.”
Alex nodded eagerly, squeezing his fingers together as he lay back on the chair and pulled his shirt up. The gel was cold as Dr. Beckett put it on and brought out the ultra sound machine.
It was just like on TV, Alex thought giddily as he looked at the black and white screen.
“There it is,” Dr. Beckett said after a minute, pointing at a tiny little black blob somewhere in the middle of the screen, and Alex squinted.
“Really?”
“Yep,” Dr. Beckett confirmed. “It’s barely the size of a peanut right now. Do you want a printout?”
“Yeah,” Alex said, still staring at the tiny blob and unable to believe that was a baby. He’d somehow expected it to be bigger, but it was still awesome, and he left the clinic with a grin on his face and the picture clutched close to his heart.
*
“I don’t see it,” Ian said, squinting at the picture stuck up to the fridge.
“It’s right there,” Alex said, pointing at the dot.
“That looks like a fly landed on the picture,” Ian said, trying to brush it away, but Alex grabbed his hand.
“Stop that. It’s my baby.”
“It’s a dot,” Ian decided, and Alex frowned.
“Marshall, get out here and tell Ian it’s a baby!”
Marshall wandered out of the living room and paused in front of the sonogram picture. He paused while Ian arched an eyebrow.
“It does kind of look like a dot,” he allowed and Alex huffed. “But I’m sure it’s a baby.”
“Suck up,” Ian muttered and Marshall smiled innocently at him.
Alex still frowned. It was a baby, no matter what anyone said. At the slamming of the front door, they all looked towards the living room, greeted seconds later by Cash’s loud voice.
“Anybody home? I’m hungry. Let’s get tacos.”
“Cash, come here!” Alex called excitedly, and Ian elbowed Marshall.
“We’ll get tacos,” Marshall offered. “You’re not feeling sick or anything, right?”
Alex shrugged. “I feel fine. I guess not everybody gets morning sickness?”
Marshall shrugged. “We’ll be back in a minute, then,” he said, grabbing Ian’s arm and pulling him out of the kitchen as Cash appeared in the doorway.
“Where are you going?” he asked as they passed him.
“Getting tacos,” Ian replied with an arched eyebrow and Cash blinked, confused, but Alex was right there, dragging him over by his arm.
“Cash, look!”
“What?” Cash asked, unimpressed as Alex showed him a picture of black and white squiggly lines.
“That’s it!” Alex said excitedly, dropping Cash’s arm and sighing wistfully at the picture.
“That’s what?” Cash repeated, frowning at the picture. He was pretty sure he wasn’t high. But he didn’t understand what Alex was trying to show him.
“The baby,” Alex explained, smiling again, and Cash was nonplussed.
“Where?”
“Right there,” Alex said, pointing to the splotch on the picture.
“I thought that was food or something.”
Alex huffed. “No, it’s the baby. Your baby.”
“It’s not my baby,” Cash corrected him, squinting and leaning in closer to the picture. “It’s yours. And it’s a splotch.” He honestly couldn’t make out anything other than a black spot on the picture. It seriously looked like a stain. Rolling his eyes, he stepped back, glancing at Alex, shocked at what he found. “Are you crying?”
“No,” Alex replied, too quickly, wiping at his eyes. “It’s just, you can’t see it!”
He was most definitely crying as Cash watched, not that this was really anything new with Alex, but it was completely uncalled for. He stared as Alex sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“Why are you crying?” Cash asked and Alex’s mouth did that wobbly thing it always did when he couldn’t control himself.
“I don’t know,” Alex said, wiping at his eyes furiously. “But you just can’t see it.”
“It’s a dot,” Cash said, staring at Alex as he drew a shaky breath. “Dude, what the fuck? I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t know!” Alex cried, wiping at his eyes and trying to take a gulp of calming air. “I just felt really sad or something weird.” He let out a breath, blinking at the picture. “You really can’t see it?”
Cash hesitated as Alex chewed on his bottom lip, eyes still a little wet as he stood there. “Sure, I can see it,” he said finally and Alex perked up a little, releasing his lip, and Cash blinked away.
“Really?” he asked hopefully and Cash shrugged.
“Sure.”
Alex looked happier as he nodded and left the kitchen, plopping down on the couch. Cash followed him carefully, still eyeing him.
“So what was with the crying?”
“I don’t know,” Alex muttered. “It was weird. I just felt really bad that you couldn’t see it or something.”
“Not that it’s really a surprise,” Cash continued, clearly ignoring Alex. “You cry all the time.”
“I do not,” Alex argued, pushing Cash with his feet.
“Prom,” Cash reminded him. “Graduation.”
“Those were all momentous occasions!” Alex protested, and Cash smirked.
“Two for one taco Tuesdays,” he pointed out and Alex scowled.
“Shut up. I love tacos.”
“I know you do,” Cash told him, pushing him back. “But yeah, the crying, all the time.”
Alex frowned and Cash plucked the remote out of his hand, ignoring his indignant look.
“Guess this means I don’t have to screw you again,” he said after a minute and Alex rolled his eyes.
“Well, when you say it like that, who could resist?”
Cash grinned. “I don’t know. That girl down at the bar, I think she wants me.”
“What girl?” Alex asked, glancing over suspiciously as Cash shrugged.
“The one with the dark hair, kinda short.”
“You don’t even know her name,” Alex accused, annoyed now as Cash smirked.
“Who said anything about names?” he asked, arching his eyebrows at Alex, and Alex just scowled and snatched the remote from his hands.
“Her name is Cassadee,” he snapped, sinking down into the couch and flipping through channels as Cash watched him curiously.
“DeLeon,” he started, but the door opened then and Marshall and Ian were back, hands full of tacos.
“Who wants burritos and who wants tacos?” Ian asked as he set down the bags on the coffee table and glanced between them.
Cash paused and Alex didn’t reply, focusing on the TV. “DeLeon always wants tacos,” he just said and ignored how Alex looked at him once Ian started divvying up the bags.
*
“And then he just started crying,” Cash said, taking a long drag of the cigarette and leaning back against the brick wall, kicking at the scattered rocks. Johnson stood next to him, not replying and inspecting his dirty fingernails. “Like, because it was a fucking dot on the paper. What was I supposed to say?”
Johnson shrugged, shaking his hair back and contemplating his cigarette as Cash sucked on his own, annoyed.
“That it was the best baby picture you’d ever seen.”
Cash tossed away his cigarette and pulled out another one. “It was a fucking dot! And I know he cries at the drop of a hat, but fuck, man!”
Johnson was smiling now and Cash didn’t get it.
He just didn’t understand Alex sometimes. He wanted a kid so he’d helped him out with that, but he got all pissy when he couldn’t tell it from a stain. It wasn’t even as big as his fingernail. How the hell was he supposed to know anything? It wasn’t his problem, the way he saw it. That had been their deal; he made the baby, Alex took care of it. Maybe he brought over tacos once in a while. That was it.
Johnson sighed, a puff of smoke filtering into the chilly spring morning. “He’s pregnant now, Cash, which means crying is all part of the deal.”
“What?” Cash asked, fingering his cigarette and tasting the nicotine on his lips. Johnson rolled his eyes.
“Hormones, dude, hormones. Crying, getting mad for no reason, hating your guts - well, that might not be hormones.”
“Fuck you,” Cash muttered, taking a long drag. He paused. “Shit, really?”
“Really,” Johnson confirmed. “You’re an idiot.”
Cash was getting tired of hearing people call him that. He wasn’t stupid. He could take care of himself, mostly. He didn’t need people telling him he was making bad decisions. It had been like that his whole life.
“Break’s over.” Frank appeared in the back doorway, greasy sleeves rolled up his elbows as he nodded them back in the shop.
Johnson tossed away his cigarette and patted Cash once on the shoulder as he passed back inside. As Cash turned, he found Frank watching him curiously.
“Did I just hear that you got DeLeon pregnant?” he asked after a second and Cash shrugged. Frank stared for another second before bursting out into laughter.
“What?” Cash asked, but Frank never replied, his laughter echoing as he disappeared inside and Cash was left to follow, crushing his cigarette violently on the ground.
*
He wasn’t showing yet, but Alex checked every morning, staring at his stomach in the mirror until Marshall banged on the door and complained about not having enough time to fix his hair.
He was putting on a little weight, though, but he was totally happy with that. He’d never been anything but a stick, but he liked that at least something was changing. So far, Alex hadn’t really experienced much in the way of stereotypical pregnancy symptoms. Then again, he might have just been watching too much primetime TV instead of reading the books he’d bought and set up on his bedside table as late-night reading. Granted, he was a little afraid to skip to the end chapters because blood just freaked him out, but he’d get there eventually.
He hadn’t actually told anyone at work yet, mostly because he wanted to be absolutely sure, but once he had the picture of the baby, not the dot as everyone else seemed to think, he thought it was time.
“You know, you’re gonna have to give up mountain dew,” Ian pointed out from where he sat on the other side of Marshall, arm slung comfortably around his waist as he drank his beer. “Way too much caffeine.”
Marshall gave Ian a sideways look. “How do you know so much about babies?”
Ian just shrugged and Marshall paused before turning back to Alex, who was frowning at his mountain dew.
It was midway through the night and Greta was at the piano, leaving only Jon at the bar. Brendon was off somewhere in the back office and Alex was supposed to be watching the bar, but he was mostly tearing the label off his bottle and looking down at his stomach.
“So how’s Cash?” Marshall asked after a second and Ian sent him a look, but Alex didn’t see as he shrugged, glancing up and frowning slightly as his gaze fell on Cassadee across the room smiling at a customer.
“Haven’t seen him in a while,” he muttered finally, thinking about the last time he’d seen Cash and his outburst of unexplained emotions. He didn’t care, though, that Cash hadn’t been around even though he was usually around all the time. Alex couldn’t really remember a time since before high school that he and Cash hadn’t seen each other at least every other day, or at least talked on the phone or texting or something. Hand on his stomach, he bit his lower lip and tore his gaze from Cassadee as Brendon and Spencer emerged from the back room.
“How did you possibly mess up your taxes so bad?” Spencer was grumbling as he slid onto a stool at the bar and paused when Jon grinned at him.
Brendon shrugged good-naturedly. “You can fix it, right?”
Spencer scowled but Jon handed him his favorite brand of beer and he sighed. “Yeah, but next year, I’m personally coming in and organizing your books. Alex,” he said sharply and Alex nearly fell off his stool. An angry Spencer Smith was sort of terrifying. “You’ll be in charge of keeping it organized. You can do that, right?”
“R-right,” Alex stuttered, as if he would have said no to Spencer Smith’s bitchface.
Spencer seemed satisfied as he turned back to where Jon was still grinning at him, cleaning out glasses. Brendon ignored them, glancing around the bar as Alex fiddled with his peeled-off label.
“Hey, Brendon,” he said after a moment and Brendon glanced at him. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
Marshall glanced over as Alex fidgeted, twisting the hem of his shirt and biting back his smile. He was about to make it officially real.
“What?” Brendon asked. “You didn’t over-order on mountain dew again, because I’m telling you, you’re the only one who drinks it.”
“No.” Alex shook his head quickly. “It’s something else, something better.” He was full-blown smiling now and Brendon cocked his head to the side. “I’m pregnant.”
Brendon stared for a second before laughing once and pulling Alex off his stool and into a hug. “That’s awesome!”
Grinning, Alex hugged him back and was happy when Brendon pulled away and called to the rest of the staff.
“Hey, guys! DeLeon’s got himself knocked up!”
There was a smattering of applause from the audience and Cassadee gave him the thumbs up sign from across the room. Back at the bar, Jon replaced Alex’s mountain dew with a new one.
“So who’s the father?” Brendon asked with wiggling eyebrows, setting his elbows on the bar as Alex climbed back on the stool.
Here, Alex hesitated, ignoring how Ian was laughing quietly into the back of Marshall’s neck. Marshall remained posed and didn’t say anything, picking at the olive in his drink.
“Um, it’s Ca…” he mumbled, trailing away and clearing his throat, taking a gulp of his drink. “It’s not really important.”
Brendon gave him a funny look. “You didn’t finally cave and do artificial, did you? I know you really want a kid but don’t you think it’s weird if you don’t even know the guy?”
Alex sighed, chewing on his bottom lip again. Marshall was giving him that look and Ian was trying not to grin, chin propped on his shoulder.
“It’s… Cash,” he admitted finally, and Spencer snorted with laughter from down the bar. Alex tried to glare, but Spencer scared him too much to really try. “But we’re not, like, anything. It’s like when you make an agreement that if you’re both not married when you’re forty, you’ll get married, you know?”
Brendon was quiet now, although he’d looked like he was about to congratulate Alex a second ago. “So you and Cash aren’t…”
“No,” Alex assured him quickly. “No. Cash is… no.”
“Oh.” Brendon frowned slightly. “Then how did this happen?”
Alex fidgeted again. “Well, he sort of offered, and it’s not like it’s a really bad idea. We’re friends. He’s my best friend. I’ve known him forever.”
“Hm.” Brendon paused but didn’t say anything more about it, slapping Alex on the shoulder. “Well, congratulations anyway. I can’t wait until you actually put on weight. That’ll be a sight. Remind me to take pictures.”
Alex wasn’t sure how encouraging that was, but Brendon was smiling again, so he took it as a good sign.
“Why would you want a kid?” Spencer asked from down the bar, frowning like the idea was disturbing. “They’re so… ugh.”
Alex was reminded vividly of Cash saying the exact same thing a few months ago and frowned.
“I like kids,” Jon put in and Spencer shut his mouth.
Alex didn’t laugh at Spencer (he’d be killed and his body never found), but sighed down at his drink. “I always wanted a kid. They’re so cute and fun and you get to do anything you want with them. I’m gonna teach mine to play the piano and sing and maybe it’ll be better at math than me.”
“Not if Cash was the father,” Ian muttered with a laugh and Alex scowled.
“It’ll be great,” Marshall spoke up, and Alex was grateful. He’d appreciate a little support.
“Where is Cash lately?” Jon asked, mixing up a few drinks as Cassadee arrived back at the bar with her tray.
“Cash asked me out,” she said as she waited for Jon and Alex glanced over sharply. She laughed. “Actually, he offered to teach me a thing or two about serving.”
Annoyed, Alex didn’t wait for the end of her story as he slid off the bar, leaving everyone behind. He didn’t need to hear how much of a slut Cash was. He was perfectly aware.
In the back office, he glanced down at his stomach, poking at the slight pudge. He wasn’t really sure why it bothered him so much, the idea of Cash and Cassadee. Cash had always gone out with tons of girls, some Alex couldn’t even understand what the appeal was, but it had never bothered him this much before. He wondered if maybe it was just because of hormones, and figured that had to be it, although he still didn’t like it.
No, he didn’t like it at all.
*
Alex had decided that peanut butter and pickle sandwiches were just amazing, and why he had never thought of it before was baffling. He was feeling tired, though, so he spent most of his days off sitting in front of the television, eating his awesome sandwiches and flipping through channel after channel of soap operas.
Glancing down at his stomach, he wondered when he’d actually be able to tell. So far, not much had changed. He felt tired sometimes, but he still hadn’t gotten morning sickness. He was slowly trying to wean himself off of mountain dew but it wasn’t working very well. He was dreading the day Marshall just poured it all down the drain on Ian’s orders.
That day hadn’t come yet, though, so he was clinging to his last bit of unhealthy sugared drinks.
He was in the middle of watching triplets being delivered in an earthquake on one of the many soaps when his front door opened unexpectedly and Cash came in.
“So this guy came in yesterday and he wanted his entire car outfitted in purple velvet with a cobra painted on the side and you have got to see it,” Cash announced without even bothering with a proper greeting as he flopped onto the couch, still smelling like paint from the shop and stale cigarettes. He didn’t ask as he reached for one of Alex’s sandwiches.
Alex just stared as Cash bit in and made a face, spitting it out.
“What the fuck did you put in this?” he asked, dumping it in the trash can while Alex stared.
“Uh, hello,” Alex said finally, obviously, and Cash wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Hi, what?”
Alex hadn’t seen Cash in over a week, almost two weeks, and here he was, back like nothing had changed. He was still making a disgusted face as he eyed the sandwiches, but switched it for grabbing the remote and changing the channel.
“Daytime soaps, DeLeon, really?”
Alex still stared. He knew Cash could be dim, but this was just going too far. “Cash, what are you doing?”
Cash glanced over. “Saving you from brain-rotting television.” He stopped clicking as he landed on Nickelodian. “Ooh.”
Rolling his eyes, Alex set down the sandwich he’d been in the middle of. He didn’t feel much like eating anymore.
“Where have you been the last two weeks?” he asked and Cash shrugged, eyes on the television.
“I don’t know, around.”
That wasn’t a good enough answer. Alex pushed himself up. “You’re avoiding me.”
Cash glanced at him. “Why would I avoid you?”
Alex paused. “’Cause we slept together?”
Cash laughed. “You could hardly call that sleeping,” he scoffed. “Besides, DeLeon, it wasn’t good enough for me to avoid you.”
Alex knew he really shouldn’t feel insulted by that, but he still did. Cash could be a real asshole sometimes without even realizing. Well, most times.
“Is it because I cried? I mean, maybe you were right. It was kind of really small. Even Marshall couldn’t really see it.”
Cash sighed, setting down the remote and steering clear of the sandwiches. “You cry all the time, dude. If I avoided you whenever that happened, we’d never see each other.”
Alex frowned. “Then where were you?”
“What does it matter?” Cash asked with a shrug. “I thought I wasn’t involved with this.” He gestured vaguely at Alex’s stomach and Alex slid a protective hand across it.
“You’re not, but-” he started and Cash made a noise.
“The guy who wanted his car purple said that cobras were a symbol of desert power or some shit like that. Maybe I’ll get that as my next tattoo.”
Frowning, Alex didn’t reply. Instead, he sunk back into the couch as Cash talked on about how awesome the car was going to be.
*
Somehow, Alex thought there’d be more to it, and Dr. Beckett kept telling him that he shouldn’t be so impatient. Soon enough he was going to have trouble walking and wouldn’t be able to match socks or shoes, so he should enjoy it while he could. So he tried to be more patient, still checking his stomach every morning in the mirror, but aside from the minute weight gain, he looked and felt mostly the same.
At work, everyone seemed pretty happy about his news, which was a relief since he’d eventually have to take time off once the baby was born, and if everyone was happy, it wouldn’t be such a big deal to leave the bar without an assistant manager for a few months.
Dr. Beckett had suggested he try to focus on simple things like daily exercises, creating a healthy diet for the next few months, but Alex spent most of his time fantasizing about the time after when he’d be able to hold his child in his arms.
He wondered what it would look like - if it would have his eyes, maybe Cash’s nose. He hoped the kid ended up with a body type somewhere in the middle, maybe tall and lean.
In between the daytime soaps and work, and not seeing Cash as often as he was used to, Alex read pregnancy books, but his attention span had always been shorter than a fly’s and he found himself bored as he sat at home, somehow hating that he didn’t have to be at work until four. He’d always liked the later hours, but now he found himself straining for entertainment, especially without Cash around.
He didn’t know what Cash’s deal was, and Cash didn’t seem to have an explanation for it. Alex sort of missed Cash, which was stupid since Cash hadn’t gone anywhere. He still lived a ten minute drive away, still worked down at the car detailing place on Park and Simon, but he wasn’t there and Alex missed him.
It didn’t take long for Alex to roll off the couch, grab his car keys off the hook on the wall, and decide to get rid of the boredom.
*
Cash was not avoiding Alex no matter how much Alex thought so. He did have other shit to do like work and improving his World of Warcraft score. It wasn’t exactly world changing work, but it was something he did, and he didn’t have to explain it to Alex. It was just hormones making him this way anyway, right?
“Cash,” Frank called from the office and Cash jerked up, banging his head on the open car hood. Wincing, he rubbed his head and ducked out. “Gabe’s coming in tomorrow, so you better have that cobra done and waiting.”
“Yep,” Cash called back, still rubbing his head and tossing the wrench back in the toolbox with a clang. He needed a cigarette.
Heading off to the painting room, he took a look at the car sitting there, half covered in opaque plastic, the cobra design taped into the side. Johnson had done the taping - he was much better at small detail shit than Cash. All that was left was the final shine coat.
“Delilah.”
If Cash had had his head in another car, he would have hit his head on the hood again as a voice startled him. It wasn’t Frank or Johnson as he turned to look and found Alex standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his (still flat) stomach.
“The fuck?” he asked curiously as Alex shifted, glancing up at him nervously like he shouldn’t really be there. It wasn’t as if they’d had a fight or anything. They weren’t fucking married.
“A name,” Alex said after a second. “For the baby.”
Cash paused, still giving him that look like maybe he was crazy. Alex didn’t often just show up at the shop. He was usually too prissy about getting paint on his clothes or something. After a second, he moved around the car, leaving Alex in the doorway.
“You can’t name your kid after some emo song about a girl some guy stalked,” he replied, pulling out the clear sealant for the car.
“What about Roxanne then?” Alex asked instead, edging in. “Or Lucy?”
“Hooker and drugs,” Cash replied simply, pouring the paint into the spray machine. “It could be a boy anyway. And don’t even think about naming it Fernando.”
“I knew you listened to ABBA.”
Cash didn’t reply and Alex sighed, uncrossing his arms. He watched Cash for a minute, prepping the paint for the car.
Cash ignored Alex. He didn’t know why he was there and if Frank found out, he’d send Alex home. He always said Alex distracted Cash when he was there, which was totally not true.
“Cassadee said you asked her out,” Alex blurted out after a minute, although he wasn’t sure why. It didn’t matter one way or the other, but he felt something deep inside flop when Cash looked up and grinned.
“Yeah. Let me tell you, that girl has got one good mou-”
“Ew, no,” Alex interrupted, hands over his ears, and Cash stopped with a shrug.
“Although, the other day I met this sweet looking girl at the grocery store. She had a kid and was picking out pears, but shit, she was hot. I bet she’d be good with her tongue.”
Alex’s stomach was knotting and he cringed. “Can you stop talking about it?”
“For fuck’s sake, you’re not fifteen anymore,” Cash scoffed. “You’ve even had sex. We even had sex, remember?”
“Vividly,” Alex deadpanned.
Cash tossed him a glance, taking in the way his arms were over his stomach again, curls falling in his face as he stared down at the floor. He knew Alex couldn’t have come all the way down to the shop to talk about his sex life, although Cash would never say no to that.
So he sighed, straightening up from the paint and wiping his hands on his greasy shirt. “What do you want, DeLeon? It’s a little early for child support, don’t you think?”
“I’m not gonna ask for child support,” Alex muttered with a frown. “We could, like, sign a document or something if you-”
Cash sighed, rolling his eyes. “Hey, hey, not everything is serious, dude.”
Alex still frowned. “Fine. I just came to say hi.”
Cash arched an eyebrow, the paint forgotten now. “You don’t do that. What do you really want?”
“Can’t I just come say hi?” Alex asked, slightly annoyed, more so when Cash laughed.
“No,” he replied, ruffling Alex’s hair and counting down only two seconds before Alex’s hand was up there fixing it. Sometimes Alex really did look like a girl, especially when he didn’t straighten his hair and it fell in curly ringlets into his eyes. “You want something.”
“I don’t want anything,” Alex replied, scowling when Cash’s mouth quirked into a knowing smirk.
“Hey, I know you liked it, but I said one fuck.”
Alex’s mouth fell open indignantly. “Cash!” he snapped. “I did not.”
Cash still smirked and Alex pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, looking away. Cash found himself watching Alex, the way his teeth worried his bottom lip, that same nervous habit he’d had since high school when he’d had braces and looked like a muppet.
Shaking himself, he pulled his gaze away from Alex’s mouth and how it was getting red under his teeth. Alex was still frowning at the floor, and Cash sighed.
“You’re so sensitive.”
Alex’s frown deepened and he opened his mouth to argue but Frank’s voice startled him and Cash didn’t laugh at the way he jumped.
“Don’t you idiots know anything about pregnancy?” Frank asked as he appeared behind Alex, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face. “DeLeon, get out of the paint room, and Cash, get your ass back to work. I don’t pay you to pick fights with your pregnant best friend. Especially since it’s your fault.”
“It’s not-” Alex tried to argue, but Frank was already steering him out by his arm.
“Paint fumes are bad for the kid, DeLeon,” was all he said as he left him in the front room.
Frowning, Alex turned around, but before he could say anything, the blast of the paint machine turned on and Cash slammed the door to the paint room.
*
“So what week are you on?” Greta asked interestedly, reaching out and brushing her hand over Alex’s stomach.
“Ten,” he replied with a grin. “You can’t really tell but, oh, you want to see a picture?”
“Of course,” Greta agreed immediately, leaning over the bar and waiting as Alex pulled a copy of the third sonogram picture now taped up to the fridge out of his pocket. He’d taken to carrying it around even though he had no excuse to show it to anyone.
“It’s bigger now,” he said, and was relieved to know that even Ian had admitted that it looked like more than a splotch now. He hadn’t shown Cash yet, but he was pretty sure Cash wasn’t interested in the fact that the baby was growing toenails now and its ears were fully formed.
Greta pulled the picture to her, making a soft noise.
“Last time,” Alex started eagerly, “I heard the heartbeat. It was so cool.”
Greta pushed the photo back with a smile. “What did Cash say?”
“Nothing,” Alex muttered, folding the picture back up. “I didn’t tell him. He doesn’t care anyway.” He shrugged, stuffing the photo in his pocket and shuffling the papers in front of him. He was supposed to be doing the order, and he finally had everything counted, but he was even more easily distracted now than he’d ever been before.
Greta paused as Alex busied himself with the papers.
Since that day in the shop, Alex hadn’t gone back to visit Cash. It had only been a few days, but he didn’t really know what to do. Something strange was going on but he didn’t know what.
He shifted on the chair, glancing around the bar. It was relatively full, given that it was a Friday night. Patrick was at the piano and Brendon was on the stage, singing some song to Ryan, who was in the front row, not listening but staring intently at a pile of papers in front of him - probably his latest manuscript.
“Brendon said something about karaoke nights,” Alex said finally, looking back at Greta, who was still giving him that weird look, but she glanced away finally.
“I’m sure Cassadee would like that,” she commented, uncapping a few beers for some people down at the end of the bar.
As she left, Alex sighed and let the papers fall into the counter. Jon appeared a few moments later, back from his break, and he shot Alex a smile as he tied on his black apron.
“Hey, Alex, what’s up?”
Glancing up, Alex paused. Jon was smiling at him, and he blinked slowly. A weird feeling was crawling into his stomach as the pause lengthened and Jon tilted his head to the side.
“You okay?”
“Uh huh,” Alex replied quickly, shaking his head. He didn’t know what had just happened. It had been weird, a momentary flash of thought, a thought that Jon was really good looking and why didn’t he ever notice before? It hardly mattered, though, because Spencer was getting up from where he sat with Ryan near the front and wading back.
“I’m bored,” Spencer complained as he hit the counter and gave Jon a look.
Jon grinned, grabbing a beer out from under the counter and passing it over. “True love not as interesting as it once was?”
“They’ve been married three years,” Spencer said with a sigh. “You’d think the moon eyes would be over.”
“Don’t knock true love, Spencer Smith,” Jon replied, and Alex frowned down at his papers. Spencer rolled his eyes anyway, but when Jon leaned over the counter, he stopped. “It can happen to anyone. Even you.”
Spencer was staring at Jon, who seemed to be leaning in closer. Clearing his throat, Alex pushed his stool back with a scrape, watching Spencer jerk back.
“I’m going to the back office,” he told Jon dully, gathering his papers.
“Sure thing,” Jon agreed, grabbing a rag and wiping down the counter. Alex left him and Spencer, who was now surreptitiously smoothing down his shirt, and headed for the back.
There, he didn’t do the order like he was supposed to. Instead, he slid down onto the couch and glanced at the door.
He’d never thought anything like that before about Jon, which made him think. Shifting awkwardly, he could feel a strange itch deep inside that he couldn’t quite explain. Instead of getting up to do work, he turned and laid down on the couch, closing his eyes and hoping it was just something he ate and not that he was getting the hots for his bartender, his bartender whom the owner’s friend seemed to like, and would probably bite Alex’s head off if he tried anything.
It was just something he’d eaten, he told himself as he tried to relax and listened to the last of Brendon’s song drifting in through the wall.
*
“I think something’s wrong with me,” Alex bemoaned, sitting hunched on the couch and eyeing the television where ER was playing and Noah Wyle was on screen. Noah Wyle was really hot, he decided, watching him reach into an open wound. Okay, that part wasn’t hot, and Alex looked away, eyes falling on Marshall beside him.
“What?” Marshall asked, eyes on the screen. He obviously didn’t have a problem with blood and operations.
“You have really nice hair,” Alex said after a second and Marshall gave him a questioning look. Shaking himself, Alex forced his eyes back to the TV. “Something is seriously wrong with me.”
“You like my hair?” Marshall guessed, and Alex shook his head.
He’d been feeling it for the past few days, the low itch deep under his skin, the curl in his stomach whenever he saw anyone remotely (or even not) attractive. He couldn’t explain it. It felt wrong, so wrong, especially when he caught himself looking at Marshall’s fingers. That was completely wrong.
“No,” he muttered, more to himself. “I think… I need, or want…”
“What?” Marshall asked. “Are you getting morning sickness now or something? Mid-afternoon snack cravings? ‘Cause I could call Ian and have him bring something over if you want.”
“No.” Alex shook his head again. He didn’t want to say it even though Marshall was one of his best friends, even though of all his friends, Marshall was probably the one least likely to laugh at him about this. His eyes strayed to the television again and he bit his lip as he watched Noah Wyle wipe his sweaty brow.
Marshall paused, following his eye line. “You want Noah Wyle?”
Alex blushed and Marshall’s smile was growing. “No, not him exactly. Just…” He sighed. He was never going to be able to say this.
Marshall was still smiling, and Alex sort of hated him right now.
“I think something’s wrong with me,” he just muttered, sinking down and changing the channel.
*
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Dr. Beckett assured Alex as he sat on the chair, hands twisted together and biting his lip nervously.
“But it’s, like, everywhere,” Alex said. “My bartender, my roommate! It’s horrible!”
Dr. Beckett paused, leaning back in his chair, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. “It’s perfectly natural for people to want sex while they’re pregnant.”
“But sex with everyone you see?” Alex demanded, and Dr. Beckett chuckled, chuckled! Alex was having a crisis, and his doctor was laughing at him.
“You’re just feeling the normal itch. Some people get it, some don’t. The point is, it’s okay to release it.”
“What do you mean?” Alex asked uneasily.
Dr. Beckett shrugged. “Look, Alex, you’re a healthy person. The baby development is good. There’s no reason why you need to be extra careful.”
“What does that mean?” he repeated, confused. Why couldn’t doctors ever be straightforward?
Dr. Beckett laughed again, setting Alex’s chart down. “Sex. You can have it. As your doctor, I give you permission.”
Alex stared and then spluttered for a minute. “Th-that’s not the problem,” he said, although he had been wondering about sex, not that he had planned on having any.
“In fact,” Dr. Beckett continued. “Some people think that sex during pregnancy makes it easier come delivery time, and it might help you relax some of that stress that will be coming in the next few months.”
Alex still stared. This was not helping his problem at all.
“Who would I have sex with?” he asked before he could stop himself. Really, he hated talking about things like this, and he could feel the flush on the back of his neck already. Clearly Dr. Beckett wasn’t bothered by it, though, as he smiled at Alex.
“That’s your area,” he told him. “But don’t worry. If you feel edgy or like you just want some, it’s okay. It doesn’t make you crazy.”
Alex frowned. “You know a lot about this, don’t you?”
Dr. Beckett shrugged, tucking his hair back. “I was almost a sex therapist,” he explained and Alex nodded slowly. “Sometimes, sex is just good.”
Alex didn’t feel reassured when he left the office and slid into his car. Sitting there in the parking lot, the sky grey above him and threatening rain, Alex didn’t know what to do.
He needed sex. There, he said it. He wanted sex with someone who wasn’t involved with someone else or a fictional character on TV. Closing his eyes, he told himself that he was just going to have to forget about this. There was no one who fit those categories. Letting his head fall forward, he jumped and jerked back as the horn blared.
Covering his face with his hands, he sighed. He had to forget about this.
Instead of thinking about what Dr. Beckett had said, about sex being recommended sometimes, he started the car and pulled out of the lot, heading home.
The streets were empty and leafy trees lined the road as he drove, fidgeting awkwardly. He just felt like he needed some all the time now. It didn’t matter who it was or where he was; he just needed to get off. He couldn’t get rid of that itch, the throb whenever he thought about it.
It had started to rain by the time he reached his apartment building and he stood there for a minute outside of his car, letting the water hit him, trickling down his arms. Maybe it would somehow quench the desire.
In the end, though, he made the trek inside, waiting for the elevator and taking it to the sixth floor. His key in the lock was loud and he pushed the door open, dumping his jacket on the counter instead of hanging it up, and shutting the door behind him.
“Fuck, Ian,” came a breathless voice from the couch, and Alex’s head snapped up. Oh no.
There wasn’t a response except a slow exhale, breath against skin, and Alex groaned out loud.
Before Marshall or Ian could even scramble up, he hurried down the hall to his bedroom, the door slamming behind him and he collapsed on his bed. He was hard. Burying his face in the pillow, he hated his body.
Back on the couch, Ian stared down the hall and Marshall paused.
“Maybe I should…” he started, but Ian shook his head, leaning in.
“It’s just hormones,” he murmured, and yeah, Marshall could deal with that.
*
Alex couldn’t take this anymore. Jerking off more than three times a day was just ridiculous… and something he hadn’t done since high school, which was just embarrassing. He didn’t want to tell anyone about it, about the way his skin always felt hot and how he just wanted to touch someone, anyone. It was completely embarrassing and horrifying when he thought about how many people he could potentially freak out.
“What are you going to do about it?” Marshall asked one morning over the breakfast table as Ian snoozed on his shoulder and Alex fidgeted in his chair, fiddling with his spoon uninterestedly.
“I don’t know,” he blurted out, squeezing his hand around the spoon. “It’s horrible.”
“It’s sex,” Ian mumbled into Marshall’s shoulder, clearly not awake yet. “Just go get some.”
Marshall elbowed him lightly, but he didn’t move.
That was not helping, Alex thought, huffing and tapping his fingers on the table now too. “Maybe it’ll go away,” he said, though he wasn’t hopeful. He’d done some research online and read blog posts about people not allowed to have sex and how they were horny all the time. It wasn’t encouraging. He’d also read about people who didn’t want sex at all. Why couldn’t he have been one of them? Sure, he’d missed the morning sickness, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten the cravings, so why couldn’t he have this one thing?
Ian cracked an eye at Alex and huffed a laugh into Marshall’s shoulder. “You’re horny and you want some,” he said simply, as though that was the answer to all of Alex’s problems.
“You’re not helpful,” Alex mumbled, pouting slightly. “What am I supposed to do? I’m, like, almost three months pregnant and all I can think about is sex. Who am I supposed to ask to do this?”
Ian paused, casting a glance at Marshall, who looked down instead. He looked back at Alex, who was sighing into his cereal.
“I can think of someone.”
Part Three.
*
Cash was already a few beers in (on the house, of course) when Brendon appeared out of the back office and plopped down next to him at the bar. Cash had no idea where Alex was. In fact, he hadn’t seen him for a while since he’d gotten there and accosted him, demanding free drinks. He wasn’t concerned, though. Alex was working, after all, and Cash didn’t need to be around him all the time, despite what Johnson might say at times.
“Hey, Cash,” Brendon greeted him and Cash nodded back. He liked Brendon. He was cool for a guy who owned a piano bar. “What’s up?”
Cash shrugged, draining the last of his beer and grinning at Greta, who took it away and replaced it with a new one. “Not much. You? Still married?”
“Still married,” Brendon confirmed happily. “Ryan’s busy with whatever his latest novel is, getting it ready for the publisher.”
“Is it the one about the bar?” Cash asked, peeling the label off the bottle in front of him. At the piano, Patrick was playing some melancholy song that he didn’t feel fit the atmosphere in the moment.
Brendon shrugged. “He never lets me read them ahead of time. So, Cash,” he said, turning more towards Cash as Cash took a swig of his beer. Everything tasted better when it was free. “I heard you were in here with Alex the other day.”
“Uh, yeah,” Cash replied. “I’m always in here with DeLeon.”
“Yeah, but you were in the back with Alex.”
“What?” Cash glanced at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
Brendon gave him a look that he supposed meant he was supposed to know what he was talking about. He had no idea.
Brendon smiled, shaking a finger at Cash while Cash looked confused. “I always thought, but I didn’t want to say anything. I’m glad you figured it out.”
“What?” Cash said again as Brendon smirked, but Brendon never explained because there was a shriek from the back and Alex came rushing out, eyes falling on Cash as he made a beeline, pushing aside chairs.
“Cash!” he cried, voice ecstatic, and for once, Cash didn’t even have to ask as Alex beamed and grabbed him into a hug with his scrawny arms.
Brendon just gave him a knowing look as he breezed away to relieve Patrick for his break.
Cash stood there, confused and staring after Brendon, and only hugging Alex back once he realized Alex’s smile was burned into his mind and he couldn’t blink it away.
*
Alex liked Dr. Beckett. He seemed smart, which Alex assumed was a good qualification to be a doctor.
“So how far along are you?” Dr. Beckett asked, checking the chart as Alex sat on the chair, squirming slightly. He didn’t really know why he was so nervous.
“A little over a month,” Alex replied, tapping his fingers together and glancing around the office. It was just like any other doctor’s office with Dr. Beckett’s medical certification tacked up on the wall, surrounded by diagrams of babies and pregnant people.
“And what about the father?” Dr. Beckett asked, scanning the second page of his file.
“Oh, there is no father,” Alex said, and when Dr. Beckett looked up, rambled on. “Well, I mean, there’s a father, obviously, but he’s not, like, you know, involved.”
“Artificial insemination?” Dr. Beckett guessed lightly, but Alex shook his head.
“Well, sort of. It was my friend - no, not like that, um. He just offered to and so yeah. That probably sounds really stupid, doesn’t it,” Alex muttered, chewing on his lip, but Dr. Beckett laughed.
“I’ve heard worse, trust me. It was nice he was willing to do this for you. So he’s not going to be involved at all?”
“No.” Alex laughed nervously. “He would be the world’s worst father, I’m pretty sure.”
Dr. Beckett nodded thoughtfully. “Well, if you’ll lie back, we can get started. If it has been a month, we should be able to get something on the ultrasound, but it might be another few weeks until we get a real, strong heartbeat.”
Alex nodded eagerly, squeezing his fingers together as he lay back on the chair and pulled his shirt up. The gel was cold as Dr. Beckett put it on and brought out the ultra sound machine.
It was just like on TV, Alex thought giddily as he looked at the black and white screen.
“There it is,” Dr. Beckett said after a minute, pointing at a tiny little black blob somewhere in the middle of the screen, and Alex squinted.
“Really?”
“Yep,” Dr. Beckett confirmed. “It’s barely the size of a peanut right now. Do you want a printout?”
“Yeah,” Alex said, still staring at the tiny blob and unable to believe that was a baby. He’d somehow expected it to be bigger, but it was still awesome, and he left the clinic with a grin on his face and the picture clutched close to his heart.
*
“I don’t see it,” Ian said, squinting at the picture stuck up to the fridge.
“It’s right there,” Alex said, pointing at the dot.
“That looks like a fly landed on the picture,” Ian said, trying to brush it away, but Alex grabbed his hand.
“Stop that. It’s my baby.”
“It’s a dot,” Ian decided, and Alex frowned.
“Marshall, get out here and tell Ian it’s a baby!”
Marshall wandered out of the living room and paused in front of the sonogram picture. He paused while Ian arched an eyebrow.
“It does kind of look like a dot,” he allowed and Alex huffed. “But I’m sure it’s a baby.”
“Suck up,” Ian muttered and Marshall smiled innocently at him.
Alex still frowned. It was a baby, no matter what anyone said. At the slamming of the front door, they all looked towards the living room, greeted seconds later by Cash’s loud voice.
“Anybody home? I’m hungry. Let’s get tacos.”
“Cash, come here!” Alex called excitedly, and Ian elbowed Marshall.
“We’ll get tacos,” Marshall offered. “You’re not feeling sick or anything, right?”
Alex shrugged. “I feel fine. I guess not everybody gets morning sickness?”
Marshall shrugged. “We’ll be back in a minute, then,” he said, grabbing Ian’s arm and pulling him out of the kitchen as Cash appeared in the doorway.
“Where are you going?” he asked as they passed him.
“Getting tacos,” Ian replied with an arched eyebrow and Cash blinked, confused, but Alex was right there, dragging him over by his arm.
“Cash, look!”
“What?” Cash asked, unimpressed as Alex showed him a picture of black and white squiggly lines.
“That’s it!” Alex said excitedly, dropping Cash’s arm and sighing wistfully at the picture.
“That’s what?” Cash repeated, frowning at the picture. He was pretty sure he wasn’t high. But he didn’t understand what Alex was trying to show him.
“The baby,” Alex explained, smiling again, and Cash was nonplussed.
“Where?”
“Right there,” Alex said, pointing to the splotch on the picture.
“I thought that was food or something.”
Alex huffed. “No, it’s the baby. Your baby.”
“It’s not my baby,” Cash corrected him, squinting and leaning in closer to the picture. “It’s yours. And it’s a splotch.” He honestly couldn’t make out anything other than a black spot on the picture. It seriously looked like a stain. Rolling his eyes, he stepped back, glancing at Alex, shocked at what he found. “Are you crying?”
“No,” Alex replied, too quickly, wiping at his eyes. “It’s just, you can’t see it!”
He was most definitely crying as Cash watched, not that this was really anything new with Alex, but it was completely uncalled for. He stared as Alex sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“Why are you crying?” Cash asked and Alex’s mouth did that wobbly thing it always did when he couldn’t control himself.
“I don’t know,” Alex said, wiping at his eyes furiously. “But you just can’t see it.”
“It’s a dot,” Cash said, staring at Alex as he drew a shaky breath. “Dude, what the fuck? I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t know!” Alex cried, wiping at his eyes and trying to take a gulp of calming air. “I just felt really sad or something weird.” He let out a breath, blinking at the picture. “You really can’t see it?”
Cash hesitated as Alex chewed on his bottom lip, eyes still a little wet as he stood there. “Sure, I can see it,” he said finally and Alex perked up a little, releasing his lip, and Cash blinked away.
“Really?” he asked hopefully and Cash shrugged.
“Sure.”
Alex looked happier as he nodded and left the kitchen, plopping down on the couch. Cash followed him carefully, still eyeing him.
“So what was with the crying?”
“I don’t know,” Alex muttered. “It was weird. I just felt really bad that you couldn’t see it or something.”
“Not that it’s really a surprise,” Cash continued, clearly ignoring Alex. “You cry all the time.”
“I do not,” Alex argued, pushing Cash with his feet.
“Prom,” Cash reminded him. “Graduation.”
“Those were all momentous occasions!” Alex protested, and Cash smirked.
“Two for one taco Tuesdays,” he pointed out and Alex scowled.
“Shut up. I love tacos.”
“I know you do,” Cash told him, pushing him back. “But yeah, the crying, all the time.”
Alex frowned and Cash plucked the remote out of his hand, ignoring his indignant look.
“Guess this means I don’t have to screw you again,” he said after a minute and Alex rolled his eyes.
“Well, when you say it like that, who could resist?”
Cash grinned. “I don’t know. That girl down at the bar, I think she wants me.”
“What girl?” Alex asked, glancing over suspiciously as Cash shrugged.
“The one with the dark hair, kinda short.”
“You don’t even know her name,” Alex accused, annoyed now as Cash smirked.
“Who said anything about names?” he asked, arching his eyebrows at Alex, and Alex just scowled and snatched the remote from his hands.
“Her name is Cassadee,” he snapped, sinking down into the couch and flipping through channels as Cash watched him curiously.
“DeLeon,” he started, but the door opened then and Marshall and Ian were back, hands full of tacos.
“Who wants burritos and who wants tacos?” Ian asked as he set down the bags on the coffee table and glanced between them.
Cash paused and Alex didn’t reply, focusing on the TV. “DeLeon always wants tacos,” he just said and ignored how Alex looked at him once Ian started divvying up the bags.
*
“And then he just started crying,” Cash said, taking a long drag of the cigarette and leaning back against the brick wall, kicking at the scattered rocks. Johnson stood next to him, not replying and inspecting his dirty fingernails. “Like, because it was a fucking dot on the paper. What was I supposed to say?”
Johnson shrugged, shaking his hair back and contemplating his cigarette as Cash sucked on his own, annoyed.
“That it was the best baby picture you’d ever seen.”
Cash tossed away his cigarette and pulled out another one. “It was a fucking dot! And I know he cries at the drop of a hat, but fuck, man!”
Johnson was smiling now and Cash didn’t get it.
He just didn’t understand Alex sometimes. He wanted a kid so he’d helped him out with that, but he got all pissy when he couldn’t tell it from a stain. It wasn’t even as big as his fingernail. How the hell was he supposed to know anything? It wasn’t his problem, the way he saw it. That had been their deal; he made the baby, Alex took care of it. Maybe he brought over tacos once in a while. That was it.
Johnson sighed, a puff of smoke filtering into the chilly spring morning. “He’s pregnant now, Cash, which means crying is all part of the deal.”
“What?” Cash asked, fingering his cigarette and tasting the nicotine on his lips. Johnson rolled his eyes.
“Hormones, dude, hormones. Crying, getting mad for no reason, hating your guts - well, that might not be hormones.”
“Fuck you,” Cash muttered, taking a long drag. He paused. “Shit, really?”
“Really,” Johnson confirmed. “You’re an idiot.”
Cash was getting tired of hearing people call him that. He wasn’t stupid. He could take care of himself, mostly. He didn’t need people telling him he was making bad decisions. It had been like that his whole life.
“Break’s over.” Frank appeared in the back doorway, greasy sleeves rolled up his elbows as he nodded them back in the shop.
Johnson tossed away his cigarette and patted Cash once on the shoulder as he passed back inside. As Cash turned, he found Frank watching him curiously.
“Did I just hear that you got DeLeon pregnant?” he asked after a second and Cash shrugged. Frank stared for another second before bursting out into laughter.
“What?” Cash asked, but Frank never replied, his laughter echoing as he disappeared inside and Cash was left to follow, crushing his cigarette violently on the ground.
*
He wasn’t showing yet, but Alex checked every morning, staring at his stomach in the mirror until Marshall banged on the door and complained about not having enough time to fix his hair.
He was putting on a little weight, though, but he was totally happy with that. He’d never been anything but a stick, but he liked that at least something was changing. So far, Alex hadn’t really experienced much in the way of stereotypical pregnancy symptoms. Then again, he might have just been watching too much primetime TV instead of reading the books he’d bought and set up on his bedside table as late-night reading. Granted, he was a little afraid to skip to the end chapters because blood just freaked him out, but he’d get there eventually.
He hadn’t actually told anyone at work yet, mostly because he wanted to be absolutely sure, but once he had the picture of the baby, not the dot as everyone else seemed to think, he thought it was time.
“You know, you’re gonna have to give up mountain dew,” Ian pointed out from where he sat on the other side of Marshall, arm slung comfortably around his waist as he drank his beer. “Way too much caffeine.”
Marshall gave Ian a sideways look. “How do you know so much about babies?”
Ian just shrugged and Marshall paused before turning back to Alex, who was frowning at his mountain dew.
It was midway through the night and Greta was at the piano, leaving only Jon at the bar. Brendon was off somewhere in the back office and Alex was supposed to be watching the bar, but he was mostly tearing the label off his bottle and looking down at his stomach.
“So how’s Cash?” Marshall asked after a second and Ian sent him a look, but Alex didn’t see as he shrugged, glancing up and frowning slightly as his gaze fell on Cassadee across the room smiling at a customer.
“Haven’t seen him in a while,” he muttered finally, thinking about the last time he’d seen Cash and his outburst of unexplained emotions. He didn’t care, though, that Cash hadn’t been around even though he was usually around all the time. Alex couldn’t really remember a time since before high school that he and Cash hadn’t seen each other at least every other day, or at least talked on the phone or texting or something. Hand on his stomach, he bit his lower lip and tore his gaze from Cassadee as Brendon and Spencer emerged from the back room.
“How did you possibly mess up your taxes so bad?” Spencer was grumbling as he slid onto a stool at the bar and paused when Jon grinned at him.
Brendon shrugged good-naturedly. “You can fix it, right?”
Spencer scowled but Jon handed him his favorite brand of beer and he sighed. “Yeah, but next year, I’m personally coming in and organizing your books. Alex,” he said sharply and Alex nearly fell off his stool. An angry Spencer Smith was sort of terrifying. “You’ll be in charge of keeping it organized. You can do that, right?”
“R-right,” Alex stuttered, as if he would have said no to Spencer Smith’s bitchface.
Spencer seemed satisfied as he turned back to where Jon was still grinning at him, cleaning out glasses. Brendon ignored them, glancing around the bar as Alex fiddled with his peeled-off label.
“Hey, Brendon,” he said after a moment and Brendon glanced at him. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
Marshall glanced over as Alex fidgeted, twisting the hem of his shirt and biting back his smile. He was about to make it officially real.
“What?” Brendon asked. “You didn’t over-order on mountain dew again, because I’m telling you, you’re the only one who drinks it.”
“No.” Alex shook his head quickly. “It’s something else, something better.” He was full-blown smiling now and Brendon cocked his head to the side. “I’m pregnant.”
Brendon stared for a second before laughing once and pulling Alex off his stool and into a hug. “That’s awesome!”
Grinning, Alex hugged him back and was happy when Brendon pulled away and called to the rest of the staff.
“Hey, guys! DeLeon’s got himself knocked up!”
There was a smattering of applause from the audience and Cassadee gave him the thumbs up sign from across the room. Back at the bar, Jon replaced Alex’s mountain dew with a new one.
“So who’s the father?” Brendon asked with wiggling eyebrows, setting his elbows on the bar as Alex climbed back on the stool.
Here, Alex hesitated, ignoring how Ian was laughing quietly into the back of Marshall’s neck. Marshall remained posed and didn’t say anything, picking at the olive in his drink.
“Um, it’s Ca…” he mumbled, trailing away and clearing his throat, taking a gulp of his drink. “It’s not really important.”
Brendon gave him a funny look. “You didn’t finally cave and do artificial, did you? I know you really want a kid but don’t you think it’s weird if you don’t even know the guy?”
Alex sighed, chewing on his bottom lip again. Marshall was giving him that look and Ian was trying not to grin, chin propped on his shoulder.
“It’s… Cash,” he admitted finally, and Spencer snorted with laughter from down the bar. Alex tried to glare, but Spencer scared him too much to really try. “But we’re not, like, anything. It’s like when you make an agreement that if you’re both not married when you’re forty, you’ll get married, you know?”
Brendon was quiet now, although he’d looked like he was about to congratulate Alex a second ago. “So you and Cash aren’t…”
“No,” Alex assured him quickly. “No. Cash is… no.”
“Oh.” Brendon frowned slightly. “Then how did this happen?”
Alex fidgeted again. “Well, he sort of offered, and it’s not like it’s a really bad idea. We’re friends. He’s my best friend. I’ve known him forever.”
“Hm.” Brendon paused but didn’t say anything more about it, slapping Alex on the shoulder. “Well, congratulations anyway. I can’t wait until you actually put on weight. That’ll be a sight. Remind me to take pictures.”
Alex wasn’t sure how encouraging that was, but Brendon was smiling again, so he took it as a good sign.
“Why would you want a kid?” Spencer asked from down the bar, frowning like the idea was disturbing. “They’re so… ugh.”
Alex was reminded vividly of Cash saying the exact same thing a few months ago and frowned.
“I like kids,” Jon put in and Spencer shut his mouth.
Alex didn’t laugh at Spencer (he’d be killed and his body never found), but sighed down at his drink. “I always wanted a kid. They’re so cute and fun and you get to do anything you want with them. I’m gonna teach mine to play the piano and sing and maybe it’ll be better at math than me.”
“Not if Cash was the father,” Ian muttered with a laugh and Alex scowled.
“It’ll be great,” Marshall spoke up, and Alex was grateful. He’d appreciate a little support.
“Where is Cash lately?” Jon asked, mixing up a few drinks as Cassadee arrived back at the bar with her tray.
“Cash asked me out,” she said as she waited for Jon and Alex glanced over sharply. She laughed. “Actually, he offered to teach me a thing or two about serving.”
Annoyed, Alex didn’t wait for the end of her story as he slid off the bar, leaving everyone behind. He didn’t need to hear how much of a slut Cash was. He was perfectly aware.
In the back office, he glanced down at his stomach, poking at the slight pudge. He wasn’t really sure why it bothered him so much, the idea of Cash and Cassadee. Cash had always gone out with tons of girls, some Alex couldn’t even understand what the appeal was, but it had never bothered him this much before. He wondered if maybe it was just because of hormones, and figured that had to be it, although he still didn’t like it.
No, he didn’t like it at all.
*
Alex had decided that peanut butter and pickle sandwiches were just amazing, and why he had never thought of it before was baffling. He was feeling tired, though, so he spent most of his days off sitting in front of the television, eating his awesome sandwiches and flipping through channel after channel of soap operas.
Glancing down at his stomach, he wondered when he’d actually be able to tell. So far, not much had changed. He felt tired sometimes, but he still hadn’t gotten morning sickness. He was slowly trying to wean himself off of mountain dew but it wasn’t working very well. He was dreading the day Marshall just poured it all down the drain on Ian’s orders.
That day hadn’t come yet, though, so he was clinging to his last bit of unhealthy sugared drinks.
He was in the middle of watching triplets being delivered in an earthquake on one of the many soaps when his front door opened unexpectedly and Cash came in.
“So this guy came in yesterday and he wanted his entire car outfitted in purple velvet with a cobra painted on the side and you have got to see it,” Cash announced without even bothering with a proper greeting as he flopped onto the couch, still smelling like paint from the shop and stale cigarettes. He didn’t ask as he reached for one of Alex’s sandwiches.
Alex just stared as Cash bit in and made a face, spitting it out.
“What the fuck did you put in this?” he asked, dumping it in the trash can while Alex stared.
“Uh, hello,” Alex said finally, obviously, and Cash wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Hi, what?”
Alex hadn’t seen Cash in over a week, almost two weeks, and here he was, back like nothing had changed. He was still making a disgusted face as he eyed the sandwiches, but switched it for grabbing the remote and changing the channel.
“Daytime soaps, DeLeon, really?”
Alex still stared. He knew Cash could be dim, but this was just going too far. “Cash, what are you doing?”
Cash glanced over. “Saving you from brain-rotting television.” He stopped clicking as he landed on Nickelodian. “Ooh.”
Rolling his eyes, Alex set down the sandwich he’d been in the middle of. He didn’t feel much like eating anymore.
“Where have you been the last two weeks?” he asked and Cash shrugged, eyes on the television.
“I don’t know, around.”
That wasn’t a good enough answer. Alex pushed himself up. “You’re avoiding me.”
Cash glanced at him. “Why would I avoid you?”
Alex paused. “’Cause we slept together?”
Cash laughed. “You could hardly call that sleeping,” he scoffed. “Besides, DeLeon, it wasn’t good enough for me to avoid you.”
Alex knew he really shouldn’t feel insulted by that, but he still did. Cash could be a real asshole sometimes without even realizing. Well, most times.
“Is it because I cried? I mean, maybe you were right. It was kind of really small. Even Marshall couldn’t really see it.”
Cash sighed, setting down the remote and steering clear of the sandwiches. “You cry all the time, dude. If I avoided you whenever that happened, we’d never see each other.”
Alex frowned. “Then where were you?”
“What does it matter?” Cash asked with a shrug. “I thought I wasn’t involved with this.” He gestured vaguely at Alex’s stomach and Alex slid a protective hand across it.
“You’re not, but-” he started and Cash made a noise.
“The guy who wanted his car purple said that cobras were a symbol of desert power or some shit like that. Maybe I’ll get that as my next tattoo.”
Frowning, Alex didn’t reply. Instead, he sunk back into the couch as Cash talked on about how awesome the car was going to be.
*
Somehow, Alex thought there’d be more to it, and Dr. Beckett kept telling him that he shouldn’t be so impatient. Soon enough he was going to have trouble walking and wouldn’t be able to match socks or shoes, so he should enjoy it while he could. So he tried to be more patient, still checking his stomach every morning in the mirror, but aside from the minute weight gain, he looked and felt mostly the same.
At work, everyone seemed pretty happy about his news, which was a relief since he’d eventually have to take time off once the baby was born, and if everyone was happy, it wouldn’t be such a big deal to leave the bar without an assistant manager for a few months.
Dr. Beckett had suggested he try to focus on simple things like daily exercises, creating a healthy diet for the next few months, but Alex spent most of his time fantasizing about the time after when he’d be able to hold his child in his arms.
He wondered what it would look like - if it would have his eyes, maybe Cash’s nose. He hoped the kid ended up with a body type somewhere in the middle, maybe tall and lean.
In between the daytime soaps and work, and not seeing Cash as often as he was used to, Alex read pregnancy books, but his attention span had always been shorter than a fly’s and he found himself bored as he sat at home, somehow hating that he didn’t have to be at work until four. He’d always liked the later hours, but now he found himself straining for entertainment, especially without Cash around.
He didn’t know what Cash’s deal was, and Cash didn’t seem to have an explanation for it. Alex sort of missed Cash, which was stupid since Cash hadn’t gone anywhere. He still lived a ten minute drive away, still worked down at the car detailing place on Park and Simon, but he wasn’t there and Alex missed him.
It didn’t take long for Alex to roll off the couch, grab his car keys off the hook on the wall, and decide to get rid of the boredom.
*
Cash was not avoiding Alex no matter how much Alex thought so. He did have other shit to do like work and improving his World of Warcraft score. It wasn’t exactly world changing work, but it was something he did, and he didn’t have to explain it to Alex. It was just hormones making him this way anyway, right?
“Cash,” Frank called from the office and Cash jerked up, banging his head on the open car hood. Wincing, he rubbed his head and ducked out. “Gabe’s coming in tomorrow, so you better have that cobra done and waiting.”
“Yep,” Cash called back, still rubbing his head and tossing the wrench back in the toolbox with a clang. He needed a cigarette.
Heading off to the painting room, he took a look at the car sitting there, half covered in opaque plastic, the cobra design taped into the side. Johnson had done the taping - he was much better at small detail shit than Cash. All that was left was the final shine coat.
“Delilah.”
If Cash had had his head in another car, he would have hit his head on the hood again as a voice startled him. It wasn’t Frank or Johnson as he turned to look and found Alex standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his (still flat) stomach.
“The fuck?” he asked curiously as Alex shifted, glancing up at him nervously like he shouldn’t really be there. It wasn’t as if they’d had a fight or anything. They weren’t fucking married.
“A name,” Alex said after a second. “For the baby.”
Cash paused, still giving him that look like maybe he was crazy. Alex didn’t often just show up at the shop. He was usually too prissy about getting paint on his clothes or something. After a second, he moved around the car, leaving Alex in the doorway.
“You can’t name your kid after some emo song about a girl some guy stalked,” he replied, pulling out the clear sealant for the car.
“What about Roxanne then?” Alex asked instead, edging in. “Or Lucy?”
“Hooker and drugs,” Cash replied simply, pouring the paint into the spray machine. “It could be a boy anyway. And don’t even think about naming it Fernando.”
“I knew you listened to ABBA.”
Cash didn’t reply and Alex sighed, uncrossing his arms. He watched Cash for a minute, prepping the paint for the car.
Cash ignored Alex. He didn’t know why he was there and if Frank found out, he’d send Alex home. He always said Alex distracted Cash when he was there, which was totally not true.
“Cassadee said you asked her out,” Alex blurted out after a minute, although he wasn’t sure why. It didn’t matter one way or the other, but he felt something deep inside flop when Cash looked up and grinned.
“Yeah. Let me tell you, that girl has got one good mou-”
“Ew, no,” Alex interrupted, hands over his ears, and Cash stopped with a shrug.
“Although, the other day I met this sweet looking girl at the grocery store. She had a kid and was picking out pears, but shit, she was hot. I bet she’d be good with her tongue.”
Alex’s stomach was knotting and he cringed. “Can you stop talking about it?”
“For fuck’s sake, you’re not fifteen anymore,” Cash scoffed. “You’ve even had sex. We even had sex, remember?”
“Vividly,” Alex deadpanned.
Cash tossed him a glance, taking in the way his arms were over his stomach again, curls falling in his face as he stared down at the floor. He knew Alex couldn’t have come all the way down to the shop to talk about his sex life, although Cash would never say no to that.
So he sighed, straightening up from the paint and wiping his hands on his greasy shirt. “What do you want, DeLeon? It’s a little early for child support, don’t you think?”
“I’m not gonna ask for child support,” Alex muttered with a frown. “We could, like, sign a document or something if you-”
Cash sighed, rolling his eyes. “Hey, hey, not everything is serious, dude.”
Alex still frowned. “Fine. I just came to say hi.”
Cash arched an eyebrow, the paint forgotten now. “You don’t do that. What do you really want?”
“Can’t I just come say hi?” Alex asked, slightly annoyed, more so when Cash laughed.
“No,” he replied, ruffling Alex’s hair and counting down only two seconds before Alex’s hand was up there fixing it. Sometimes Alex really did look like a girl, especially when he didn’t straighten his hair and it fell in curly ringlets into his eyes. “You want something.”
“I don’t want anything,” Alex replied, scowling when Cash’s mouth quirked into a knowing smirk.
“Hey, I know you liked it, but I said one fuck.”
Alex’s mouth fell open indignantly. “Cash!” he snapped. “I did not.”
Cash still smirked and Alex pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, looking away. Cash found himself watching Alex, the way his teeth worried his bottom lip, that same nervous habit he’d had since high school when he’d had braces and looked like a muppet.
Shaking himself, he pulled his gaze away from Alex’s mouth and how it was getting red under his teeth. Alex was still frowning at the floor, and Cash sighed.
“You’re so sensitive.”
Alex’s frown deepened and he opened his mouth to argue but Frank’s voice startled him and Cash didn’t laugh at the way he jumped.
“Don’t you idiots know anything about pregnancy?” Frank asked as he appeared behind Alex, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face. “DeLeon, get out of the paint room, and Cash, get your ass back to work. I don’t pay you to pick fights with your pregnant best friend. Especially since it’s your fault.”
“It’s not-” Alex tried to argue, but Frank was already steering him out by his arm.
“Paint fumes are bad for the kid, DeLeon,” was all he said as he left him in the front room.
Frowning, Alex turned around, but before he could say anything, the blast of the paint machine turned on and Cash slammed the door to the paint room.
*
“So what week are you on?” Greta asked interestedly, reaching out and brushing her hand over Alex’s stomach.
“Ten,” he replied with a grin. “You can’t really tell but, oh, you want to see a picture?”
“Of course,” Greta agreed immediately, leaning over the bar and waiting as Alex pulled a copy of the third sonogram picture now taped up to the fridge out of his pocket. He’d taken to carrying it around even though he had no excuse to show it to anyone.
“It’s bigger now,” he said, and was relieved to know that even Ian had admitted that it looked like more than a splotch now. He hadn’t shown Cash yet, but he was pretty sure Cash wasn’t interested in the fact that the baby was growing toenails now and its ears were fully formed.
Greta pulled the picture to her, making a soft noise.
“Last time,” Alex started eagerly, “I heard the heartbeat. It was so cool.”
Greta pushed the photo back with a smile. “What did Cash say?”
“Nothing,” Alex muttered, folding the picture back up. “I didn’t tell him. He doesn’t care anyway.” He shrugged, stuffing the photo in his pocket and shuffling the papers in front of him. He was supposed to be doing the order, and he finally had everything counted, but he was even more easily distracted now than he’d ever been before.
Greta paused as Alex busied himself with the papers.
Since that day in the shop, Alex hadn’t gone back to visit Cash. It had only been a few days, but he didn’t really know what to do. Something strange was going on but he didn’t know what.
He shifted on the chair, glancing around the bar. It was relatively full, given that it was a Friday night. Patrick was at the piano and Brendon was on the stage, singing some song to Ryan, who was in the front row, not listening but staring intently at a pile of papers in front of him - probably his latest manuscript.
“Brendon said something about karaoke nights,” Alex said finally, looking back at Greta, who was still giving him that weird look, but she glanced away finally.
“I’m sure Cassadee would like that,” she commented, uncapping a few beers for some people down at the end of the bar.
As she left, Alex sighed and let the papers fall into the counter. Jon appeared a few moments later, back from his break, and he shot Alex a smile as he tied on his black apron.
“Hey, Alex, what’s up?”
Glancing up, Alex paused. Jon was smiling at him, and he blinked slowly. A weird feeling was crawling into his stomach as the pause lengthened and Jon tilted his head to the side.
“You okay?”
“Uh huh,” Alex replied quickly, shaking his head. He didn’t know what had just happened. It had been weird, a momentary flash of thought, a thought that Jon was really good looking and why didn’t he ever notice before? It hardly mattered, though, because Spencer was getting up from where he sat with Ryan near the front and wading back.
“I’m bored,” Spencer complained as he hit the counter and gave Jon a look.
Jon grinned, grabbing a beer out from under the counter and passing it over. “True love not as interesting as it once was?”
“They’ve been married three years,” Spencer said with a sigh. “You’d think the moon eyes would be over.”
“Don’t knock true love, Spencer Smith,” Jon replied, and Alex frowned down at his papers. Spencer rolled his eyes anyway, but when Jon leaned over the counter, he stopped. “It can happen to anyone. Even you.”
Spencer was staring at Jon, who seemed to be leaning in closer. Clearing his throat, Alex pushed his stool back with a scrape, watching Spencer jerk back.
“I’m going to the back office,” he told Jon dully, gathering his papers.
“Sure thing,” Jon agreed, grabbing a rag and wiping down the counter. Alex left him and Spencer, who was now surreptitiously smoothing down his shirt, and headed for the back.
There, he didn’t do the order like he was supposed to. Instead, he slid down onto the couch and glanced at the door.
He’d never thought anything like that before about Jon, which made him think. Shifting awkwardly, he could feel a strange itch deep inside that he couldn’t quite explain. Instead of getting up to do work, he turned and laid down on the couch, closing his eyes and hoping it was just something he ate and not that he was getting the hots for his bartender, his bartender whom the owner’s friend seemed to like, and would probably bite Alex’s head off if he tried anything.
It was just something he’d eaten, he told himself as he tried to relax and listened to the last of Brendon’s song drifting in through the wall.
*
“I think something’s wrong with me,” Alex bemoaned, sitting hunched on the couch and eyeing the television where ER was playing and Noah Wyle was on screen. Noah Wyle was really hot, he decided, watching him reach into an open wound. Okay, that part wasn’t hot, and Alex looked away, eyes falling on Marshall beside him.
“What?” Marshall asked, eyes on the screen. He obviously didn’t have a problem with blood and operations.
“You have really nice hair,” Alex said after a second and Marshall gave him a questioning look. Shaking himself, Alex forced his eyes back to the TV. “Something is seriously wrong with me.”
“You like my hair?” Marshall guessed, and Alex shook his head.
He’d been feeling it for the past few days, the low itch deep under his skin, the curl in his stomach whenever he saw anyone remotely (or even not) attractive. He couldn’t explain it. It felt wrong, so wrong, especially when he caught himself looking at Marshall’s fingers. That was completely wrong.
“No,” he muttered, more to himself. “I think… I need, or want…”
“What?” Marshall asked. “Are you getting morning sickness now or something? Mid-afternoon snack cravings? ‘Cause I could call Ian and have him bring something over if you want.”
“No.” Alex shook his head again. He didn’t want to say it even though Marshall was one of his best friends, even though of all his friends, Marshall was probably the one least likely to laugh at him about this. His eyes strayed to the television again and he bit his lip as he watched Noah Wyle wipe his sweaty brow.
Marshall paused, following his eye line. “You want Noah Wyle?”
Alex blushed and Marshall’s smile was growing. “No, not him exactly. Just…” He sighed. He was never going to be able to say this.
Marshall was still smiling, and Alex sort of hated him right now.
“I think something’s wrong with me,” he just muttered, sinking down and changing the channel.
*
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Dr. Beckett assured Alex as he sat on the chair, hands twisted together and biting his lip nervously.
“But it’s, like, everywhere,” Alex said. “My bartender, my roommate! It’s horrible!”
Dr. Beckett paused, leaning back in his chair, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. “It’s perfectly natural for people to want sex while they’re pregnant.”
“But sex with everyone you see?” Alex demanded, and Dr. Beckett chuckled, chuckled! Alex was having a crisis, and his doctor was laughing at him.
“You’re just feeling the normal itch. Some people get it, some don’t. The point is, it’s okay to release it.”
“What do you mean?” Alex asked uneasily.
Dr. Beckett shrugged. “Look, Alex, you’re a healthy person. The baby development is good. There’s no reason why you need to be extra careful.”
“What does that mean?” he repeated, confused. Why couldn’t doctors ever be straightforward?
Dr. Beckett laughed again, setting Alex’s chart down. “Sex. You can have it. As your doctor, I give you permission.”
Alex stared and then spluttered for a minute. “Th-that’s not the problem,” he said, although he had been wondering about sex, not that he had planned on having any.
“In fact,” Dr. Beckett continued. “Some people think that sex during pregnancy makes it easier come delivery time, and it might help you relax some of that stress that will be coming in the next few months.”
Alex still stared. This was not helping his problem at all.
“Who would I have sex with?” he asked before he could stop himself. Really, he hated talking about things like this, and he could feel the flush on the back of his neck already. Clearly Dr. Beckett wasn’t bothered by it, though, as he smiled at Alex.
“That’s your area,” he told him. “But don’t worry. If you feel edgy or like you just want some, it’s okay. It doesn’t make you crazy.”
Alex frowned. “You know a lot about this, don’t you?”
Dr. Beckett shrugged, tucking his hair back. “I was almost a sex therapist,” he explained and Alex nodded slowly. “Sometimes, sex is just good.”
Alex didn’t feel reassured when he left the office and slid into his car. Sitting there in the parking lot, the sky grey above him and threatening rain, Alex didn’t know what to do.
He needed sex. There, he said it. He wanted sex with someone who wasn’t involved with someone else or a fictional character on TV. Closing his eyes, he told himself that he was just going to have to forget about this. There was no one who fit those categories. Letting his head fall forward, he jumped and jerked back as the horn blared.
Covering his face with his hands, he sighed. He had to forget about this.
Instead of thinking about what Dr. Beckett had said, about sex being recommended sometimes, he started the car and pulled out of the lot, heading home.
The streets were empty and leafy trees lined the road as he drove, fidgeting awkwardly. He just felt like he needed some all the time now. It didn’t matter who it was or where he was; he just needed to get off. He couldn’t get rid of that itch, the throb whenever he thought about it.
It had started to rain by the time he reached his apartment building and he stood there for a minute outside of his car, letting the water hit him, trickling down his arms. Maybe it would somehow quench the desire.
In the end, though, he made the trek inside, waiting for the elevator and taking it to the sixth floor. His key in the lock was loud and he pushed the door open, dumping his jacket on the counter instead of hanging it up, and shutting the door behind him.
“Fuck, Ian,” came a breathless voice from the couch, and Alex’s head snapped up. Oh no.
There wasn’t a response except a slow exhale, breath against skin, and Alex groaned out loud.
Before Marshall or Ian could even scramble up, he hurried down the hall to his bedroom, the door slamming behind him and he collapsed on his bed. He was hard. Burying his face in the pillow, he hated his body.
Back on the couch, Ian stared down the hall and Marshall paused.
“Maybe I should…” he started, but Ian shook his head, leaning in.
“It’s just hormones,” he murmured, and yeah, Marshall could deal with that.
*
Alex couldn’t take this anymore. Jerking off more than three times a day was just ridiculous… and something he hadn’t done since high school, which was just embarrassing. He didn’t want to tell anyone about it, about the way his skin always felt hot and how he just wanted to touch someone, anyone. It was completely embarrassing and horrifying when he thought about how many people he could potentially freak out.
“What are you going to do about it?” Marshall asked one morning over the breakfast table as Ian snoozed on his shoulder and Alex fidgeted in his chair, fiddling with his spoon uninterestedly.
“I don’t know,” he blurted out, squeezing his hand around the spoon. “It’s horrible.”
“It’s sex,” Ian mumbled into Marshall’s shoulder, clearly not awake yet. “Just go get some.”
Marshall elbowed him lightly, but he didn’t move.
That was not helping, Alex thought, huffing and tapping his fingers on the table now too. “Maybe it’ll go away,” he said, though he wasn’t hopeful. He’d done some research online and read blog posts about people not allowed to have sex and how they were horny all the time. It wasn’t encouraging. He’d also read about people who didn’t want sex at all. Why couldn’t he have been one of them? Sure, he’d missed the morning sickness, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten the cravings, so why couldn’t he have this one thing?
Ian cracked an eye at Alex and huffed a laugh into Marshall’s shoulder. “You’re horny and you want some,” he said simply, as though that was the answer to all of Alex’s problems.
“You’re not helpful,” Alex mumbled, pouting slightly. “What am I supposed to do? I’m, like, almost three months pregnant and all I can think about is sex. Who am I supposed to ask to do this?”
Ian paused, casting a glance at Marshall, who looked down instead. He looked back at Alex, who was sighing into his cereal.
“I can think of someone.”
Part Three.