Luigi brought a bowl of soup into his brother's room. Mario was asleep in the bed, his hand resting on his distended stomach.
"Poor Mario." Luigi commented as he put the tray on the table next to the bed. "I remember how hard it is to be pregnant. I'm glad I never caught a cold during mine. Especially at the eighth month!"
Luigi watched as his older brother fitfully slept as his body ached and his stomach tied itself in knots.
Putting his hand on Mario's forehead Luigi checked for a fever. "Hm, a little warm, I better get you a washcloth."
Luigi walked into the bathroom and ran a clean washcloth under the cold faucet. He looked in the mirror and remembered how haggard and scared he had been during his pregnancy, and how Mario had taken care of him. Now it was his turn.
Returning to the bedroom Luigi draped the washcloth over Mario's forehead. Feeling a little nostalgic Luigi pulled the blanket down from Mario's chest and put his hand on his brother's stomach. Luigi could feel his unborn nephew kicking against his palm.
"Soon little one. Soon."
-End
*Feel free to continue the story, just don't kill anyone.*