Just an mpreg fanfic for my favorite movie/musical, Rent. In this story, Angel doesn't have AIDS, he doesn't die, and there are other tweaks that you'll notice from the movie. I don't own any characters, and all credit goes to Jonathan Larson (RIP).

A/N: Italics in the story mean the character's thoughts.

It was a sunny day in New York City as Angel Dumott Schunard and Tom Collins were walking along Avenue B, holding hands. They had been together for three years before Collins finally proposed to Angel. Angel had tearfully accepted, and they were married on Halloween, 1991. Now March of 1992, they were discussing the possibility of children. Angel had always wanted to have one of their own, but Collins wanted to adopt. They debated for a few weeks, and the subject slowly went to the side. About four months after the topic of children had become a thing of the past, Collins came home from work to find Angel sitting on the couch, sobbing and holding what looked like a white Popsicle stick in her hand. Collins dropped his stuff inside the door, kicked it shut with his heel, and ran over to Angel. "Angel, baby, what's wrong? What's going on?" Angel sobbed again, and held out the little white object. "What is this, baby?" "Just look at it. I wouldn't blame you if you left me right now." With a look of panic on in his eyes, Collins brought the stick up to eye level. Squinting, he peered in the window on the stick, and did a double take. "Angel, is this really true?" "Oh, Tom, please don't hate me. I know you wanted to adopt rather than have one of us carry the baby, but things just happened! If you want to leave, that's fine. I don't blame you in the least." "Angel Dumott Schunard, why the hell would I want to leave you? It is ours, right?" "Of course it is! I love you and only you. I would never cheat on you!" "Well then why would I want to leave? We both wanted kids, and though we had our disagreements on how it would happen, we now are going to live that dream! I couldn't be happier!" "Really, baby? You mean it?" "I mean it as much as you mean to me. And you know that you mean the world to me." "Oh, baby." Collins picked Angel up and swung her around in circles. "Oh, Collins, don't do that. I'm going to…" She wriggled out of his arms, and made a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. A few seconds later, Collins heard the unmistakable sounds of Angel heaving and moaning. Collins sighed, and walked towards the bathroom. I guess I'm going to have to get used to the "morning" sickness.