Positive (Chapter 11)
Title: Positive
Author: xojemmaxo
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryan/Jon, distant Brencer, Frerard
POV: Third
Summary: Ryan doesn't throw up in the morning before work. No, the morning sickness decides to wake him up at 3:00am in the morning instead.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Young Veins, Panic at The Disco, My Chemical Romance, Cobra Starship, or any of their respective members.
Beta: hooray4irony
Author Notes: Oh, look. Another uneventful chapter. *sigh*. I'll have to skip to the moving out of Jon Walker's apartment and into Ryan's apartment next chapter. :D (You'll also find out how far along Ryan is next chapter too.
Ryan doesn't throw up in the morning before work. No, the morning sickness decides to wake him up at 3:00am in the morning instead. He tumbles out of bed and makes to sprint to the bathroom, but he loses his balance and his knees hit the carpet hard as he throws up all over the floor. It feels horrible. His stomach contracts painfully each time he heaves, and all he can think is this is going to be a bitch to clean up. Then Jon's there, running his hands over his back and a voice soothing him over the sobs that are wracking through Ryan's body -- he hadn't known he was crying, too. He stops throwing up and his head throbs like his brain is too big for his skull; he grabs blindly for the edge of the mattress to stabilize the spinning room, but the comforter slips through his slack fingers and he sees Jon's frantic face before his vision goes fuzzy and black at the edges and creeps inward until there's nothing left to see.
He blinks and he's in bed again, but Jon isn't lying beside him and somebody turned the light on. He narrows his eyes against it, turns his head to the side and experiences a wave of pain through his skull which rivals anything he's ever felt before. He growls in his throat.
"Yeah, he, he just threw up and passed out and -- yeah, I moved him. I put him back in our bed, of course. I didn't leave him on the floor, it might've hurt the baby..." Ryan squints around to locate the source of Jon's voice, the light pressing into his eyes and making everything feel heavy and surreal, and then Jon's in the doorway. "Yeah, I -- oh, wait, he's awake." Jon takes something away from his ear -- a phone, Jon's phone, Ryan registers -- "Spencer!" Jon calls over his shoulder, then hurries to the side of Ryan's bed, his concerned face the only thing breaking through Ryan's consciousness. Ryan likes the stubble on Jon's jaw. He focuses on it with some difficulty and tries to touch it, but Jon's moving around and saying things that are muffled like someone stuffed cotton wool in Ryan's ears.
"Hmm?" mumbles Ryan.
"I said, is your head throbbing? Do you feel lightheaded?" asks Jon, and Ryan nods. Jon always knows what's wrong. Ryan loves Jon.
Jon's saying more things into the shiny red phone again. Something warm touches Ryan's shoulder and he slowly tilts his head to see Spencer sitting on the bed in his boxers.
"Hey, Ry."
"Hmm," mumbles Ryan again in response. He's feeling kind of sleepy, though his vision isn't blacking out again. Jon says something to him but he doesn't look at him, closes his eyes instead.
"Ryan, open your eyes."
Ryan opens his eyes.
"Ryan, how's your stomach? Does your gut hurt?"
Ryan shakes his head. Silly Jon.
"Are you sure, Ryan? Can you feel your abdomen?"
Ryan actually concentrates on his lower stomach now, feels the low, heavy feeling he's had since he found out about the pregnancy. Maybe it's there. Maybe he imagines it.
"Yeah," says Ryan, accidentally drawing the word out so he sounds stoned. He feels kind of stoned.
"How does it feel?"
"Like... like heavy, Jon. 'Cause I'm getting fat," says Ryan, grinning because it's like an inside joke, because of that time in the shower ages ago when he said the exact same thing to Jon. Did that even happen?
Jon talks to the phone again. Ryan wonders who's on the other line.
"We lost you for about an hour, Ry," says Spencer.
"I was right here," says Ryan, unsure how they could lose him in his own apartment. Maybe they could, if his wardrobe was like the wardrobe in that story. The one with the man-goat. Nothing makes sense.
"Ryan, they think you're dehydrated, or you have low blood pressure," says Jon. Ryan opens his mouth to ask who they are and who gave them the authority to tell him what was wrong with him, then he thinks oh. Doctors.
"Is the baby okay?" he slurs, because if anything happened to the baby, Jon would hate him forever. If anything happened to the baby, Ryan would never forgive himself.
Jon smiles, a little apprehensively, but Ryan doesn't catch that. "The baby's going to be fine, Ry. It's you we're worried about at the moment."
"Okay," says Ryan meekly. It's nice to be worried about.
Jon talks into the phone. It sounds like he's being given instructions. On the other side of Ryan, Spencer rubs circles into Ryan's shoulder.
"C'n I sleep now?" Ryan asks, because he's got work tomorrow (today) and he needs to get up early.
Jon covers the receiver with his palm. "No, honey. Not just yet," he says, and brushes Ryan's hair away from his eyes.
Ryan will be angry at Jon later. Maybe.
"Spencer, can you get a glass of water from the kitchen?" asks Jon. Spencer's weight leaves the bed and Ryan watches him hurry out into the kitchen.
"Okay. I will. I'll make sure he gets rest," says Jon, and he hangs up, setting his mobile on Ryan's bedside table. "Now, you're not going to work tomorrow," says Jon sternly. "You gotta rest and keep your fluids up, 'cause we don't want you to pass out again, okay? It can't be good for our baby. Or you."
"I have to go to work, though," says Ryan. "Or else I'll have to come live with you in your cat's litterbox."
Jon laughs. Spencer comes back in the room, carefully supporting a sparkling glass of water. He hands it to Jon, who accepts it with a thanks and sets it on the bedside table before propping Ryan up into a sitting position. Ryan makes some noises of indignation, but otherwise doesn't complain.
"You've got to drink this, now, baby," says Jon. He sits on the bed beside Ryan's hip and and takes the glass of water, lifting it to Ryan's lips. Ryan takes a big gulp, suddenly realizing how dry his mouth is. Jon takes the water away. Ryan frowns.
"Little sips," instructs Jon, "or you mightn't be able to keep it down."
"Okay," says Ryan, and Jon tilts the glass again and Ryan takes sips until the water is gone.
"Better?" asks Spencer, from where he's seated in his previous spot beside Ryan.
Ryan nods. "I want to sleep now," he tells no one in particular.
Jon hesitates. "I don't know. Maybe we should keep an eye on you for a while..."
"No. I wanna sleep."
Jon rolls his eyes affectionately; Ryan behaving somewhat like a needy three-year-old is somehow endearing.
"Okay then. We'll sleep."
"You sure he's going to be okay?" asks Spencer. He's giving Jon the piercing look he gets when he doesn't trust someone's abilities.
"Spencer," Ryan warns.
"Okay." Spencer slides off the bed and heads to the door, standing just inside the hall. "Goodnight. Don't die on us, Ry."
"I'll try not to," says Ryan, grinning. He feels a lot fucking better than when he first woke up. He can totally still go to work tomorrow. Jon just doesn't know it yet.
* * *
The next morning, when Ryan wakes up with Jon snuggled up behind him, one arm around Ryan and his hand firm against Ryan's stomach, he feels like shit again. He doesn't need to throw up, but he feels progressively dizzier as his body wakes up. Moving his head means seeing the room spin into several different colours. It's like being drunk with a hangover.
He risks opening his eyes to glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, directly in front of his eyes, and the numbers swim before he reads them. It's 8:00.
"Jon," he says. "Shit, Jon. We've gotta get up for work."
Behind him, Jon mutters something and yawns, his arm tightening around Ryan before it's pulled away, stretching over Jon's head.
"Good morning. What'd you say?"
"It's 8:00," Ryan informs him dryly, and Jon promptly rolls out of bed and looks for his clothes, pulling on his discarded shirt and pants. Ryan swings his legs out of bed, pauses for the nausea to stop, and reaches for his jeans.
"What are you doing?" asks Jon.
"Getting dressed, dumbass," replies Ryan.
"No you're not." Jon strides around the bed and nudges Ryan back into it, who complains plaintively but remains under the covers when Jon pulls them up to his chest. It's kind of cold today, anyway.
"Stay here and let Spencer look after you," says Jon. He leans down over Ryan and kisses him, and Ryan pulls him closer before he can think of morning breath, one arm tangled in the sheets. All Ryan can feel is soft lips and he wants to stay here with Jon all day. That would be nice.
When Jon pulls away, he's another five minutes late for work.
"Gotta go," he says, grinning, pulling on his jeans and hurrying out the bedroom door. Ryan watches after him for a moment, then rolls over and goes back to sleep.
The time passes slowly; mostly he sleeps, but the time Ryan spends awake blurs into one another. Spencer comes in at some point and makes Ryan drink more water, asks him if he's hungry and makes him soup anyway. Ryan eats most of it.
He wakes up sometime that night to Jon smoothing back his hair. Spencer's there, too, hovering worriedly in the background. It looks like he has more water. Ryan's not thirsty.
"How are you, Ry?" asks Jon softly.
"M'good," says Ryan. He settles deeper into the pillow. "Better than last night."
"Okay, good, that's good," says Jon. "Tomorrow, if you're feeling okay, Spencer and I decided you two could go to my apartment and start to pack my stuff. You don't have to, but it'll be much easier on Sunday if everything's already in boxes." He pauses. "I wish I could help."
"You can, on Sunday. We'll make you do everything," says Ryan, "Cause you're strong and we're lazy."
"Okay," says Jon. "I'd better be getting paid then. I don't do heavy labour for free."
Ryan pulls him down so he's speaking into Jon's ear and murmurs, "I'll repay you Sunday night. With my mouth."
"Did not need to know that," says Spencer loudly, and exits the room.
"Oops," says Ryan.
* * *
Jon and Ryan fuck that night. Ryan insists he's up to it, even though he's still a little dizzy. Jon refuses at first, but soon gives in to Ryan's awesome powers of seduction, which he totally possesses.
Jon's spooned up behind Ryan, fucking him in long, slow strokes.
"Like that?"
"Fucking -- yes," Ryan gasps softly. If Spencer hears this, Ryan'll never see the end of it. It's hard to keep quiet, however, when he's so -- fucking -- full, when Jon's hand is working so steadily and so good on his cock, rubbing that one spot that --
"Oh, fuck, Jon. Jon, yes, fuck, more," says Ryan in one breath. He feels Jon smile against his neck, feels teeth pulling at his skin, and pushes his ass out further for better access. Jon grabs Ryan's leg, the one that isn't pressing into the mattress, and lifts it up, using the new angle to pound into Ryan just there, fuckfuckfuck, and Ryan only has time to announce, "Jesus, Jon, I can't -- fuck --" before he comes, freefalling endlessly as Jon's hand is streaked white. Behind him, Jon picks up the pace, and twists his head around so he can kiss him, Jon trembling through his orgasm.
Afterwards, Ryan insists that he clean up, he's more than capable, but Jon tells him sternly that he's sick and pregnant and Jon should be the one taking care of his fiance`. Ryan gives in (he seems to be doing that a lot lately) and Jon gets a wet towel from the bathroom and wipes the come off the sheets, Ryan, and himself.
Afterwards they cuddle. Jon falls asleep quickly. Ryan lies awake for hours.
Author: xojemmaxo
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryan/Jon, distant Brencer, Frerard
POV: Third
Summary: Ryan doesn't throw up in the morning before work. No, the morning sickness decides to wake him up at 3:00am in the morning instead.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Young Veins, Panic at The Disco, My Chemical Romance, Cobra Starship, or any of their respective members.
Beta: hooray4irony
Author Notes: Oh, look. Another uneventful chapter. *sigh*. I'll have to skip to the moving out of Jon Walker's apartment and into Ryan's apartment next chapter. :D (You'll also find out how far along Ryan is next chapter too.
Ryan doesn't throw up in the morning before work. No, the morning sickness decides to wake him up at 3:00am in the morning instead. He tumbles out of bed and makes to sprint to the bathroom, but he loses his balance and his knees hit the carpet hard as he throws up all over the floor. It feels horrible. His stomach contracts painfully each time he heaves, and all he can think is this is going to be a bitch to clean up. Then Jon's there, running his hands over his back and a voice soothing him over the sobs that are wracking through Ryan's body -- he hadn't known he was crying, too. He stops throwing up and his head throbs like his brain is too big for his skull; he grabs blindly for the edge of the mattress to stabilize the spinning room, but the comforter slips through his slack fingers and he sees Jon's frantic face before his vision goes fuzzy and black at the edges and creeps inward until there's nothing left to see.
He blinks and he's in bed again, but Jon isn't lying beside him and somebody turned the light on. He narrows his eyes against it, turns his head to the side and experiences a wave of pain through his skull which rivals anything he's ever felt before. He growls in his throat.
"Yeah, he, he just threw up and passed out and -- yeah, I moved him. I put him back in our bed, of course. I didn't leave him on the floor, it might've hurt the baby..." Ryan squints around to locate the source of Jon's voice, the light pressing into his eyes and making everything feel heavy and surreal, and then Jon's in the doorway. "Yeah, I -- oh, wait, he's awake." Jon takes something away from his ear -- a phone, Jon's phone, Ryan registers -- "Spencer!" Jon calls over his shoulder, then hurries to the side of Ryan's bed, his concerned face the only thing breaking through Ryan's consciousness. Ryan likes the stubble on Jon's jaw. He focuses on it with some difficulty and tries to touch it, but Jon's moving around and saying things that are muffled like someone stuffed cotton wool in Ryan's ears.
"Hmm?" mumbles Ryan.
"I said, is your head throbbing? Do you feel lightheaded?" asks Jon, and Ryan nods. Jon always knows what's wrong. Ryan loves Jon.
Jon's saying more things into the shiny red phone again. Something warm touches Ryan's shoulder and he slowly tilts his head to see Spencer sitting on the bed in his boxers.
"Hey, Ry."
"Hmm," mumbles Ryan again in response. He's feeling kind of sleepy, though his vision isn't blacking out again. Jon says something to him but he doesn't look at him, closes his eyes instead.
"Ryan, open your eyes."
Ryan opens his eyes.
"Ryan, how's your stomach? Does your gut hurt?"
Ryan shakes his head. Silly Jon.
"Are you sure, Ryan? Can you feel your abdomen?"
Ryan actually concentrates on his lower stomach now, feels the low, heavy feeling he's had since he found out about the pregnancy. Maybe it's there. Maybe he imagines it.
"Yeah," says Ryan, accidentally drawing the word out so he sounds stoned. He feels kind of stoned.
"How does it feel?"
"Like... like heavy, Jon. 'Cause I'm getting fat," says Ryan, grinning because it's like an inside joke, because of that time in the shower ages ago when he said the exact same thing to Jon. Did that even happen?
Jon talks to the phone again. Ryan wonders who's on the other line.
"We lost you for about an hour, Ry," says Spencer.
"I was right here," says Ryan, unsure how they could lose him in his own apartment. Maybe they could, if his wardrobe was like the wardrobe in that story. The one with the man-goat. Nothing makes sense.
"Ryan, they think you're dehydrated, or you have low blood pressure," says Jon. Ryan opens his mouth to ask who they are and who gave them the authority to tell him what was wrong with him, then he thinks oh. Doctors.
"Is the baby okay?" he slurs, because if anything happened to the baby, Jon would hate him forever. If anything happened to the baby, Ryan would never forgive himself.
Jon smiles, a little apprehensively, but Ryan doesn't catch that. "The baby's going to be fine, Ry. It's you we're worried about at the moment."
"Okay," says Ryan meekly. It's nice to be worried about.
Jon talks into the phone. It sounds like he's being given instructions. On the other side of Ryan, Spencer rubs circles into Ryan's shoulder.
"C'n I sleep now?" Ryan asks, because he's got work tomorrow (today) and he needs to get up early.
Jon covers the receiver with his palm. "No, honey. Not just yet," he says, and brushes Ryan's hair away from his eyes.
Ryan will be angry at Jon later. Maybe.
"Spencer, can you get a glass of water from the kitchen?" asks Jon. Spencer's weight leaves the bed and Ryan watches him hurry out into the kitchen.
"Okay. I will. I'll make sure he gets rest," says Jon, and he hangs up, setting his mobile on Ryan's bedside table. "Now, you're not going to work tomorrow," says Jon sternly. "You gotta rest and keep your fluids up, 'cause we don't want you to pass out again, okay? It can't be good for our baby. Or you."
"I have to go to work, though," says Ryan. "Or else I'll have to come live with you in your cat's litterbox."
Jon laughs. Spencer comes back in the room, carefully supporting a sparkling glass of water. He hands it to Jon, who accepts it with a thanks and sets it on the bedside table before propping Ryan up into a sitting position. Ryan makes some noises of indignation, but otherwise doesn't complain.
"You've got to drink this, now, baby," says Jon. He sits on the bed beside Ryan's hip and and takes the glass of water, lifting it to Ryan's lips. Ryan takes a big gulp, suddenly realizing how dry his mouth is. Jon takes the water away. Ryan frowns.
"Little sips," instructs Jon, "or you mightn't be able to keep it down."
"Okay," says Ryan, and Jon tilts the glass again and Ryan takes sips until the water is gone.
"Better?" asks Spencer, from where he's seated in his previous spot beside Ryan.
Ryan nods. "I want to sleep now," he tells no one in particular.
Jon hesitates. "I don't know. Maybe we should keep an eye on you for a while..."
"No. I wanna sleep."
Jon rolls his eyes affectionately; Ryan behaving somewhat like a needy three-year-old is somehow endearing.
"Okay then. We'll sleep."
"You sure he's going to be okay?" asks Spencer. He's giving Jon the piercing look he gets when he doesn't trust someone's abilities.
"Spencer," Ryan warns.
"Okay." Spencer slides off the bed and heads to the door, standing just inside the hall. "Goodnight. Don't die on us, Ry."
"I'll try not to," says Ryan, grinning. He feels a lot fucking better than when he first woke up. He can totally still go to work tomorrow. Jon just doesn't know it yet.
* * *
The next morning, when Ryan wakes up with Jon snuggled up behind him, one arm around Ryan and his hand firm against Ryan's stomach, he feels like shit again. He doesn't need to throw up, but he feels progressively dizzier as his body wakes up. Moving his head means seeing the room spin into several different colours. It's like being drunk with a hangover.
He risks opening his eyes to glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, directly in front of his eyes, and the numbers swim before he reads them. It's 8:00.
"Jon," he says. "Shit, Jon. We've gotta get up for work."
Behind him, Jon mutters something and yawns, his arm tightening around Ryan before it's pulled away, stretching over Jon's head.
"Good morning. What'd you say?"
"It's 8:00," Ryan informs him dryly, and Jon promptly rolls out of bed and looks for his clothes, pulling on his discarded shirt and pants. Ryan swings his legs out of bed, pauses for the nausea to stop, and reaches for his jeans.
"What are you doing?" asks Jon.
"Getting dressed, dumbass," replies Ryan.
"No you're not." Jon strides around the bed and nudges Ryan back into it, who complains plaintively but remains under the covers when Jon pulls them up to his chest. It's kind of cold today, anyway.
"Stay here and let Spencer look after you," says Jon. He leans down over Ryan and kisses him, and Ryan pulls him closer before he can think of morning breath, one arm tangled in the sheets. All Ryan can feel is soft lips and he wants to stay here with Jon all day. That would be nice.
When Jon pulls away, he's another five minutes late for work.
"Gotta go," he says, grinning, pulling on his jeans and hurrying out the bedroom door. Ryan watches after him for a moment, then rolls over and goes back to sleep.
The time passes slowly; mostly he sleeps, but the time Ryan spends awake blurs into one another. Spencer comes in at some point and makes Ryan drink more water, asks him if he's hungry and makes him soup anyway. Ryan eats most of it.
He wakes up sometime that night to Jon smoothing back his hair. Spencer's there, too, hovering worriedly in the background. It looks like he has more water. Ryan's not thirsty.
"How are you, Ry?" asks Jon softly.
"M'good," says Ryan. He settles deeper into the pillow. "Better than last night."
"Okay, good, that's good," says Jon. "Tomorrow, if you're feeling okay, Spencer and I decided you two could go to my apartment and start to pack my stuff. You don't have to, but it'll be much easier on Sunday if everything's already in boxes." He pauses. "I wish I could help."
"You can, on Sunday. We'll make you do everything," says Ryan, "Cause you're strong and we're lazy."
"Okay," says Jon. "I'd better be getting paid then. I don't do heavy labour for free."
Ryan pulls him down so he's speaking into Jon's ear and murmurs, "I'll repay you Sunday night. With my mouth."
"Did not need to know that," says Spencer loudly, and exits the room.
"Oops," says Ryan.
* * *
Jon and Ryan fuck that night. Ryan insists he's up to it, even though he's still a little dizzy. Jon refuses at first, but soon gives in to Ryan's awesome powers of seduction, which he totally possesses.
Jon's spooned up behind Ryan, fucking him in long, slow strokes.
"Like that?"
"Fucking -- yes," Ryan gasps softly. If Spencer hears this, Ryan'll never see the end of it. It's hard to keep quiet, however, when he's so -- fucking -- full, when Jon's hand is working so steadily and so good on his cock, rubbing that one spot that --
"Oh, fuck, Jon. Jon, yes, fuck, more," says Ryan in one breath. He feels Jon smile against his neck, feels teeth pulling at his skin, and pushes his ass out further for better access. Jon grabs Ryan's leg, the one that isn't pressing into the mattress, and lifts it up, using the new angle to pound into Ryan just there, fuckfuckfuck, and Ryan only has time to announce, "Jesus, Jon, I can't -- fuck --" before he comes, freefalling endlessly as Jon's hand is streaked white. Behind him, Jon picks up the pace, and twists his head around so he can kiss him, Jon trembling through his orgasm.
Afterwards, Ryan insists that he clean up, he's more than capable, but Jon tells him sternly that he's sick and pregnant and Jon should be the one taking care of his fiance`. Ryan gives in (he seems to be doing that a lot lately) and Jon gets a wet towel from the bathroom and wipes the come off the sheets, Ryan, and himself.
Afterwards they cuddle. Jon falls asleep quickly. Ryan lies awake for hours.