Will you still love me in the morning?

By Blueberrychills94

Chapter One

It took many, many years, but it happened. For years it caused outcries, people claiming it was unnatural, unsanitary, unsafe, but then again, fights like this had already been raised. This was just like gasoline chucked on top. Many did not care as it did not affect them. Others complained for the sake of complaining. And then there were the people it did affect. The people who were gracious, thankful, happy with the result of a thirty year struggle.

Men could get pregnant.

For a man to be given the ability to become pregnant, they must go through complicated surgery that gave them the same ability as a woman to get pregnant. The outcries were for the obvious reasons. God didn't want it this way! And so on. The men who mostly wanted to have the surgery were gay men so they already got stick from the religious nuts anyway, so why shouldn't they be given the ability to have a family just because the same people are going to stomp their feet and have a tantrum?

Cato had never considered having the surgery himself. He thought it was a great thing, and a massive leap forward, but he just wasn't all that sold on the idea of having his insides scrambled just to house another human being. Maybe if he had a partner who had the surgery, he wouldn't mind getting them pregnant, if he loved them enough, but anything more than that and he couldn't do it. Besides, he wasn't ready for a serious relationship. He just wanted some fun.

He met the boy who would change his life in a bar. The blond beauty had stood behind the bar, doing a word search, with his leg slung over the counter. His hair had covered most of his face, falling in a golden wave of curls as his eyes were focused on the search in front of him. He was petit but strong looking, and it was clear that there was some muscle underneath the shirt he was wearing.

To give you an idea of how hot this boy was exactly, Cato was worried about him being near alcohol, since the place was in great danger of going up in flames.

It may have been the beer goggles talking, but he had never seen someone as attractive as this boy before in his entire life. It made him pitifully horny and in that moment he knew he had to fuck that kid. Immediately.

"Are you going to order something, or are you going to keep staring?" The boy lifted his head and flicked his hair out of his eyes. They were deep blue, glowing like the alcopop in the glass bottle behind him.

"I don't know, are you going to tear yourself away from that . . . fascinating word search?" Cato used the word fascinating because, judging by how the boy only looked up once, those words he was searching must have been pretty damn interesting.

"Well, if you're asking, I don't really want to," the boy said pointedly. He looked back down at the search and sighed dramatically. "Go on then, what is it you'd like?"

"The customer service here is amazing," Cato said sarcastically.

The boy looked back up and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm a little drunk right now. I'm only 75% sure that you're here right now and all the letters on my page are wiggling like worms."

"Well, that makes two of us, at least," Cato muttered. He sat down at the bar and said, "Just get me something really strong." The blond boy leaned backwards and grabbed a bottle of beer from the shelf behind him. Cato's eyes were drawn to the boy's midriff as his shirt slipped up his stomach. There was a patch of blond hair peeking out from the waistband of his jeans and promisingly prominent hipbones.

At first, when the boy slapped the bottle of beer in front of him, Cato was disheartened. Who would hand over a bottle of budweiser when asked to give them something strong? He was proven wrong, however, when the mysterious boy then proceeded the pop the cap, dump the contents into a pint glass and also add a shit ton of vodka. He stuck a pink umbrella into it and slipped a cut lemon between the lip of the glass.

"There you go," he declared, passing Cato the glass. "I call it the Peeta."

"Why's that?" asked Cato.

"Because that's my name. I can't sing, act or be funny so I thought I might as well make my name somehow." Peeta grinned and winked. "Go on, try it."

"Is it even legal?"

"How strong is your stomach?"

"Pretty strong."

"Then go ahead."

Cato rolled his eyes but figured he may as well give it a go. He was three or four more shots off getting his stomach pumped anyway. As the cool liquid slid down his throat, he almost choked. Half way down it morphed from cold to fire hot and it burned the interior of his throat. He coughed and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. Peeta snickered and drew a wobbly circle around the word 'atmosphere'.

"I've never meant someone who can stomach it yet," he said.

"Well, maybe I'm occupied with other things," said Cato. He was beginning to slurr his words and his mind was working sloth slow. "Although, I think it's already contributed to about half of my current drunk state."

"It does that," Peeta mumbled. He shut his book and used the leg slung over the counter as leverage to pull himself onto the top to sit. His jeans were so tight they were like a second skin, hugging every muscle and documenting every shift of his body.

"When's your break?" asked Cato.

Peeta fixed Cato with a pointed gaze. "You're not getting any, if that's what you're trying," he said. "I'm not that kind of boy."

"Something tells me you are," Cato replied. He slid his hand up the younger boy's thigh and stepped in front of him. "Something tells me that under that sarcasm and cheeky grins there's a dirty, dirty boy just begging to be let out."

Peeta smirked cheekily and smoothed his hands along Cato's shoulders. "Maybe," he said. "Only there's one snag."

"What's that?"

The blond beauty leaned forward so his lips brushed Cato's ear. "I'm cut up."

"And? What do you think I am? A bigot?" Cato responded. Peeta quirked an eyebrow. 'Cut up' was the term used for men who had gotten the pregnancy surgery. It was an unspoken rule to always inform a sexual partner if you'd had the surgery or not. "Are you . . . ?"

"Nah." Peeta leaned back on his elbows and smirked. "I just don't want another upturned nose. I take birth control."

"Well, you won't get it from me," said Cato. He twisted his hand around in the front of Peeta's shirt and pulled him up to face him. "So, I'll repeat my question. When's your break?"

"Five minutes," Peeta purred. "If you can pace yourself for that long, big boy."

Cato grinned. For those blue eyes and strong, sexy legs? Of course he could.

~xXx~

Cato woke up with a blasting headache. He couldn't remember anything from the previous night and the only thing he could process was that he was craving a bacon buddy. He rolled over with a heavy groan, slapping his hand down on the imaginary alarm clock that had woken him up. His hand found a crumpled piece of paper. When he looked at it, there were nine words.

Got to dash. Sorry. Thanks for the fun night.

~Peeta

Then it came rushing back to Cato in painful detail.

He pushed the boy against the cubicle wall and claimed his neck as his marking ground, sucking on soft skin until the young boy squirmed and moaned in his arms. "I have to be back in ten minutes," Peeta had pointed out, squeaking in pleasured surprise when Cato grinded his crotch up against his own. "Fuck, that's it, harder."

Fine with him.

They fumbled with each other's buttons and, when it was clear that things weren't getting anywhere, Cato ripped the metal button off Peeta's pants and grabbed him by his thighs. He hoisted the younger boy up and slammed him against the wall again. Peeta tightened his legs around Cato's waist and kissed him hard.

"You ready for me?" Cato teased against the panting boy's mouth. The alcohol had already worked its way into his brain, blurring his judgment and he completely forgot about thinking about a condom.

"Don't ask stupid questions. Just get inside me!" Peeta was shouting, his voice echoing around the toilets. He obviously didn't care if there were other people around. Cato grinned against Peeta's neck and pushed into his as far as the younger boy's tight hole would allow. It was unbelievable how amazingly tight and hot inside the bartender boy was.

The rest of it was a bit of a blurr. Cato could remember a lot of it. All he could hear in his head was seven words:

Let's take this back to my place.

Cato kind of felt dirty. It was strange because it wasn't his first one night stand but it was the first every one night stand where he wasn't the first person to leave. Was this how it always felt to wake up alone? Wow. He'd been making quite a lot of people feel like shit. Maybe it was time to rethink his entire lifestyle choices.

Life went back to normal. Weeks passed, a month. Despite the length of time since that one night stand, Cato would spontaneously remember the boy from the bar. Well, the term 'remember' was used very lightly as Cato could not remember anything about the boy. All he had was the note and a name. Peeta. It made him wonder just how shit faced he had been that he couldn't even conjure up a face to the name. He had the vauge-ish memory of the sex in the toilet cubicle and could scarcely hear the boy's voice sometimes.

"Why don't you go back to the bar?" Clove asked one day at work. "If you're so curious about the kid why don't you try and find him again?"

"Ah, well, there's a slight problem," said Cato. "I can't even remember the bar I went to that night."

Clove scoffed and slipped off the counter she had been sitting on. Every day, without fail, she would go to Cato's work and distract him from doing what he's supposed to be doing. The job was only a part-time thing. It was a 9 to 5 job at a clothing store, working at the till and dealing with difficult costumers. Cato had asked Clove on numerous occasions to only come see him during his break but once he asked her this, she made it her mission to visit him when he wasn't on his break.

"Fuck sake, how shit-faced were you?" Clove laughed.

"Pretty fucking shit faced," Cato replied. "Honestly Clove, if I can't remember the guy's name then I certainly can't remember the name of the bloody club."

"You're just a pillar of romance," Clove drawled sarcastically. "How come you never get shit faced when you're with me? You're always so uptight when you're with me."

"That's because you need a chaperone," said Cato. "If both of us got drunk together then we'd wake up the next morning to embarrassing videos of us peeing together in digger scoopers in the dead of night on youtube."

"True. True."

Clove stalked off to look at the lingerie on display at the back of the store, leaving Cato alone with his thoughts. She wasn't gone five minutes before he started thinking about that night. He really wished there was a face he could place with the memory. If he could remember how the guy who was so desperately hot that he just had to have him so badly that they fucked in the toilet cubicle before taking it back to his place, maybe things would make sense a little.

"Cato?"

Cato initially thought that his boss had caught him daydreaming on the job but once he snapped back into reality he realized that it was just a customer instead.

Wait a second . . .

Wrapped up in a thick woolly cardigan, a blond beauty stood before him. "I can't believe it's you. Of course you're in the last place I'd think to look," they say.

Cato almost forgot how to speak as everything came rushing back to him. The face, the smile, the sarcasm, the drinks, the word search. Everything. All of it. A part of Cato was so overwhelmed that he was almost consumed with the desire to grab the boy's face and pull him across the counter for a kiss. He didn't know what to say as Peeta stepped forward and slapped something down onto the counter that separated them.

A pregnancy test.

A positive pregnancy test.

When Cato met Peeta's eyes, the boy looked none too pleased. "We have a problem."

Fuck.

A/N: Don't ask me about the science of how men may (but probably won't) be able to get pregnant in the future. It's just an idea that's necessary towards the plot of this story. If any of you can think of a way it could work-great!-but, as I've said, it's just a necessary plot bunny for this story.

Please review with your thoughts!