The way things are
Chapter three

by M. F. Luder (mfluder@ec-red.com)

Title: The way things are
Author: M. F. Luder
Pairing: Should be Ryan/Seth in the near future. Hints of Ryan/OC
Rating: PG-13
Category: Angst... lots of it. Romance in a while. Sweetness in a couple of months.*shrugs*
Summary: Ryan finds himself in a compromising situation which puts the Cohen Household in a peculiar position. Ryan's friendship with Seth is also on the line. It can either draw strength from this, or break apart completely.
Warnings: MPREG (male pregnancy). Read at your discretion. 
Author's note: It's unbetad, so all mistakes are mine. 
And, finally, this one goes to Vera. You're the sweetest. 

Ryan blinks, eyes fluttering open, the back of his palm rubbing his eyes.

He turns on his back, gazing at the while ceiling.

He frowns.

His legs itch, and he's having trouble moving them. He can barely feel them, and when he tries curling his toes, it itches, hurting.

Ryan sighs. Great, just what he needed. Bad circulation.

Groaning, Ryan places his arm over his eyes, waiting for it to away. He remembers when he was a child, how the same thing used to happen, how his legs wouldn't cooperate with him for the first minutes of each day.

Bad circulation, one of his mother's boyfriends -- a good guy for a change -- told him one day. Bad circulation, should have it looked up, take some medicine for it maybe, or sleep in another position.

Ryan had done none. He had just waited, a week, a month, two months. Five months went by before it actually got better, before he could stand up without worrying about his legs not supporting him.

And now it was back, and Ryan wonders how long it will take this time.

He waits another moment, and tries moving his legs, and this time, they respond, barely itching.

Ryan stands up, making his way towards the bathroom on a sunny Monday morning.

At least is Monday, Ryan tells himself. Monday means school, and school lasts whole seven hours, and that's seven hours he won't have to stay in his room, Seth ignoring him.

The water falls down on his hair, his head, and Ryan closes his eyes.

Weekend was worse, if Thursday and Friday hadn't been bad enough. Seth barely said two words to him during breakfast, and then just went to his room. Ryan has no idea what he did there.

So, with no option left, Ryan stayed on the pool house, trying to do his homework, and started reading the following classes in advance.

It didn't help but at least it passed the time.

Ryan turns off the tab, walking out of the shower.

A Saturday without playing Nintendo and a Sunday without just watching TV with Seth was weird, odd, and rather twilight-zone worth. It didn't seem like the weekend, even, if Seth didn't babble on and on about new games, and new ways to beat Ryan, and catching up on missed shows, like Friends and Will & Grace, and Frasier, though Seth likes to pretend he doesn't like that show, but Ryan knows best.

Ryan swallows thickly, putting on a white a wifebeater, black jeans and blue opened shirt.

He picks up his backpack, places the books inside, pretending today will be a different day, and makes his way out of the pool house. He pauses, just as he reaches the doorknob, his stomach complaining and his throat tightening. Ryan takes deep long breaths, lips pursed together, and it takes him a minute to collect himself.

More relax, certain his stomach has settled again, he walks out of the room and towards the house.

*****

Ryan was wrong; today wasn't going to be a normal day.

When he enters the kitchen, he's greeted with the smell of freshly passed coffee, Espresso beans Sandy likes so much, and melted butter on warm bagels, Kellogg's Special Seth can't live without and orange juice waiting for him.

Ryan isn't sure what exactly did him. Maybe it was the bagels, and butter, that right now smell like putrid Chinese take out on the fridge because Trey never bothered on throwing it out after a month. But he's very sure that, at least, to some extend, it's the coffee, and it reminds him of the summer he had to shovel manure from a neighbor who liked her roses too much, just to get enough money to eat.

Whatever it is, it finishes off what this morning started, and Ryan lets his backpack fall onto the beige floor and he rushes towards the bathroom that's barely thirty feet from him, but right now seems too far away to be true.

He has one hand over his mouth, trying to convince himself he's actually going to make him and not vomit all over Kirsten's new Persian rug on the living room.

He reaches the bathroom, slams the door open, kneels down before the toilet, and it feels like his insides are burning.

*****

Seth lowers his eyes to his cereal, pretending not to watch Ryan enter the kitchen and start his way towards the table.

Still, he does see Ryan out of the corner of his eyes, hand on his mouth, backpack falling, running out of the kitchen.

Seth looks up, frowning, and it takes only two more seconds before he hears Ryan retching on the guest's bathroom. Suddenly, Seth isn't so hungry anymore.

Confused, Seth sees his mom letting out a soft sigh under her breath before following Ryan.

He hears the bathroom door closing after her, and Ryan heaving.

Seth stands up, head tilted, eyes following the hallway towards the bathroom. That's really weird, because Seth doesn't remember the last time Ryan was sick, not even that time they forgot to put back the Thai food they had ordered, and Seth got food poisoning. Ryan was just fine, which was really odd from Seth's point of view, because he was sick for two days. Back then, Seth thought it had to be because Ryan had a strong stomach, in comparison with Seth's Newport one.

Right now, Seth is not so sure.

He turns around and watches his dad with avid curiosity.

Sandy lets out a long sigh, picking up his cup of coffee and placing it on the fridge, with a longing look. Then, Sandy picks up the bag of bagels, warm and dripping butter and cheese, and rolls the bag, placing it in one of the cupboards.

Seth frowns even deeper, more confused than ever.

Sandy picks up the air freshener from under the sink, and he's about to spray the kitchen, when he thinks better of it. He hides the air freshener in yet another cupboard, and instead picks up the paper and starts waving. And if that wasn't enough weirdness in the Cohen household at seven thirty am, Sandy opens the kitchen's door leading to the back yard, and keeps on waving.

"Okay dad, not to interrupt you or anything, but what are you doing?"

"Making the smell go away."

Seth likes to consider himself a very intelligent person, but this is too much, even for him. "Huh?"

Sandy turns around, gives his son one impatient look, before resuming his task of waving his hands around in the air like he just lost his last link to sanity. "The smell. Ryan was sick because of the smell, I'm sure of it, and unless you want him to throw up after he leaves that bathroom, we gotta get rid of it."

Seth turns around, eyeing the fridge, coffee inside, and cupboard, bagels hidden away. "And what about the food?"

"Well, what good is it not to have the smell in, if we keep the food?"

Seth's shoulder sag down in longing. "No food?"

Sandy shakes his head. "No food. At least not breakfast, for a little while."

Seth turns around, hearing another wave of retching, and grimaces in pain.

"Is that even normal?"

Sandy nods, letting the paper back onto the kitchen island. He picks up one single piece of toasts, and wonders if he can eat it before Ryan comes out of the bathroom. He sighs, dreaming of the coffee he's going to buy in the way to work. Two cups. His eyes travel to the hallway leading to the bathroom. Better three.

"Totally," he says after a moment, gulping down the toast. "You're mother was worse."

"Dad."

"Awful. Couldn't keep anything down until her fourth month."

Oh, God. "Dad!"

"I had to eat out all the time. And there was this time she had chocolate and threw up right after--"

"Dad, please, have mercy on my soul, would you? It's bad enough I have to listen to Ryan retching last night's meal. Really."

Sandy shrugs, nonchalantly, with the experience of someone who has gone through this before. "Sure, but I'm just telling you son, this won't be a first time thing. It's just the beginning. Lets just hope he gets over the morning sickness by his fourth month."

Seth blinks, taken back. By his forth month? What, people actually go through that more than that? How much more? How do they survive? Will Ryan actually be able to eat anything? "It can last more?"

"Yeah, your mother once told me about this friend she had that threw up her entire pregnancy."

"Oh, sweet lord, what have I done to you? Is it because I like Xmen now better than Star Trek? Is it? Because I can fix that, I swear, I'll have a Star Trek marathon today, 24 hours straight, if that'll fix this."

Sandy shakes his head, slightly amused by Seth's disgust over simple morning sickness. He smiles inwardly. Seth hasn't even seen the food cravings.

Seth just slumps further on his seat, eyeing his cereal regretfully. He stands up, and throws it down the drain.

Sandy smiles proudly. "Don't worry son, I'll give you breakfast money. Just make sure you don't eat close to Ryan."

Seth nods, crossing his arms on top the kitchen island, and waits for Ryan to come out.

Chapter four
The way things are

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