"Fayt."

The bluenette stirred at the sound of his name. "Mmph," he mumbled, rolling over onto his side. The figure lying next to him wriggled closer, teasing lips seeking out a naked shoulder, playful hands twisting strands of azure hair.

"Fayt," his partner whispered again.

"Lemme… alone…"

Skinny arms clamped like a vice around his waist, and a warm tongue licked seductively at his neck, but Fayt mumbled sleepily in protest, letting out a soft moan.

"Bel… not now… tired… wanna sleep…"

Albel smiled sweetly, looking remarkably like a cobra. With a mock sigh, he rubbed his gently (almost barely) protruding belly. "Patience, my boy," he murmured. "Daddy will get us what we want."

He glanced at Fayt, who was curled into a ball with his thumb dangerously close to his mouth, and drew back his foot.

"Wake up, maggot!"

The poor boy let out a sharp yelp as a swift kick was delivered to his side. He floundered in a tangle of blankets and limbs before tipping over the side of the bed. Fayt hit the floor with a thud, and lay flat on his back. Dazed, he could only stare up at the ceiling with stunned eyes, marvel at the little Roger bouncing across it (and waving his bushy tail very cheekily too) and wonder what the hell had happened.

Then a familiar grinning face filled his vision and he knew exactly what happened.

With great effort, he turned his head to look at the clock on his nightstand. He winced when he saw the glaring red numbers: 2:00 a.m.

"Albel," Fayt croaked, "please tell me you have a good reason for kicking me out of bed at two in the morning."

The swordsman looked miffed. "Of course I do. I would only bother waking you up for an emergency, fool!"

Fayt was instantly alert. "Is something wrong with the baby? Are you sick? Does it hurt somewhere? Oh my god, I have to get you to a doctor!" the bluenette panicked, scrambling to his feet and anxiously surveying Albel for any sign of an emergency. "Quick, tell me!"

"I need ice-cream."

The younger man froze, midway between picking Albel up to carry him to the Diplo or calling Cliff to do it for him while he panicked some more. "You… you want ice-cream… at two in the morning?"

"No, I don't want ice-cream, I need it. There's a difference."

Fayt stared, his still half-asleep brain still trying to process what had been said. "You want ice-cream," he repeated slowly. "You kicked me out of bed at two in the morning because you need ice-cream."

Albel rolled his eyes. Was Fayt really a genius? Or did he just have the mental capacity of a rock that he never noticed because the bluenette was so adorable? If Albel Nox said he wanted ice cream, then damn it; he wanted ice cream!

"Yes, I want ice-cream, fool. Now go and get it so I can go back to sleep," he snapped, pulling the covers back over himself and staring defiantly at the father of his unborn baby. "I want triple fudge chocolate chip, with extra chocolate chips and chocolate fudge sauce – actually, bring me the whole bottle. You never put enough on."

Fayt turned blue.

Albel watched him curiously. It was a rather fetching shade of blue that matched his hair quite well. There was even a strange, strangled sort of noise coming from his throat.

How interesting. Was he choking?

No, wait, he had seen this before. As a matter of fact, it was just yesterday when he had woken Fayt up at three a.m. to demand a chicken and pineapple pizza. Oh well, he would get over it in a couple of minutes or so once the request sank in. He would just have to wait.

Then again… Albel had never been a patient man…

"Would you hurry up? The ice-cream is not going to bring itself upstairs."

Fayt snapped.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND? IF YOU WANT ICE-CREAM AT TWO IN THE FREAKING MORNING, GET IT YOURSELF!"

"…"

"…"

"…excuse me?"

The bluenette glared back. "You heard me," he retorted, staggering to his feet. "If you want ice-cream, go downstairs and get it yourself! I'm sick of this, waking me up in the middle of the night for food."

But when Fayt tried to get back into bed, a foot barred his way and promptly kicked him back out again.

"You are not getting back in this bed until you go downstairs and get my ice-cream!"

"But what's the point? You'll just throw it all up tomorrow morning!"

The red eyes narrowed dangerously. "The point is that I want it now. And if I don't get it now, there will be consequences."

Fayt quailed, and his resolve, along with his argument, weakened considerably. Albel had developed an even shorter fuse since falling pregnant, which, when coupled with his newfound sweet tooth, made the swordsman more dangerous than ever.

"Come on, Bel," he tried one last whine. That usually worked (with the key word being usually). "All you have to do is go downstairs and raid the freezer yourself. Geez, how complicated could it be?"

"Oh. I see. So you would let your pregnant boyfriend walk down the stairs in the dark, risk tripping and losing your baby, and navigate a dark kitchen filled with sharp, dangerous objects, again risking yourbaby?"

"No, I–"

"Obviously you don't care about my or the baby's needs."

"That's not true–"

"…then go get my ice-cream."

"No!"

"Make up your mind, maggot!"

"I docare about you and the baby. More than anything. But it's also a matter of principle. I mean, you're only four months pregnant. It would be completely different if you were eight months gone or something, but if you can still lead your troops in training exercises, you can go get your own ice cream. I'm…"

He paused, wondering how best to phrase his next point. It wasn't exactly something his boyfriend would take kindly too. Then again, Albel didn't take kindly to anything. Especially now that he had female hormones running rampant in his body.

Oh, screw it. Just because Albel happened to be pregnant didn't mean he could walk all over him (actually it did, but Fayt was just dense that way).

"I'm… I'm your boyfriend, the father of your baby, not your slave!"

The swordsman stared unblinkingly at him, with just the teensiest hint of pure, unadulterated menace. And poor, poor Fayt began to realise that perhaps he was a little too ahead of himself.

"Um, that is… what I meant to say was… was…"

Judging by the twisted expression on his face, Fayt was gathering every scrap of courage from every molecule of every cell in his body, just to tell his lover a plain and simple no.

"I am getting back into bed, we are going back to sleep, and that is final."

…of course when one was dealing with Albel the Wicked, there was no such thing as a plain and simple no.

Well, Albel would have found Fayt's triumphant declaration very amusing (and very arousing) had he not been a pregnant man with a serious craving for chocolate ice cream at two a.m.

"Either you get my ice-cream, Fayt, or I have to explain to our son why daddy always sleepsoutside."

Fayt gulped. "But, Bel–"

"Now, Fayt!"

But the bluenette (miraculously) held his ground. He looked Albel straight in the eye, and said–

"No."

At this point, Albel could have exploded. He could have tossed Fayt outside and confined him there until he cooled off or felt guilty. He could have taught his uke a lesson in obedience.

Yes, he should have done all of the above. In fact, it was what Fayt even expected.

But the hormones had a different idea.

"Albel…" the bluenette inched closer, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

"Are you… are you crying?"

"I'm not crying, maggot," the swordsman sobbed, grabbing the sheet to hide his face. "Why cry just because you don't love me anymore?"

"Oh hell." Fayt clumsily put his arms around his lover, patting him awkwardly on the back. "Albel, I didn't mean to make you cry… no, really… and of course I love you. You know I do."

"You don't… I'm pregnant with your child and you can't even make the effort of going downstairs and fetching some ice-cream… that proves you don't love me…"

"No, Bel, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so stubborn when I know it's difficult for you being pregnant. Geez, I feel like such a jerk!"

Albel sniffed, dabbing his eyes with the sheet and huddling against the younger man. "You… could make it up to me…"

Fayt smiled. "Ice-cream?"

"Ice-cream," he confirmed.

"Sure. I'll be right back," the bluenette returned softly, planting a soft kiss on his lover's forehead.

When he was sure Fayt was downstairs, Albel dropped the sheet with noise of disgust.

"The things I have to do just to get a little bit of ice-cream around here…"

He threw a dirty look at his belly, wiping his watering eyes impatiently. "I hope you're happy. You forced me to humiliate myself in front of your daddy. Consider yourself fortunate to be protected by my belly, else I would have tanned your hide for this."

Albel sniffed, settling for giving his stomach a light smack instead. He flopped back down on the soft heap of pillows, but frowned when he noticed that his eyes were still wet.

Odd... he rubbed at them a little harder.

The tears kept leaking out.

He reached for a tissue and screwed up his eyes tightly, squeezing out every last drop of moisture before mopping them up. Muttering curses, Albel dropped the crumpled tissue on his nightstand and settled down to wait for his ice cream.

A drop of wetness fell on his arm.

Albel blinked, and another tear dropped.

"Why won't these blasted tears stop?" he grumbled out loud, grabbing a fistful of tissues. He rubbed violently at his eyes, but the tears kept coming.

Slowly, panic began to set in.

For some inexplicable reason, he couldn't stop crying.

No, this was impossible. He didn't cry. Albel Nox never cried – ever. He hadn't even cried as a five-year old when his first pet died. He had been trying to manipulate Fayt, that's all, just squeezing out a few crocodile tears to get some ice cream.

Albel hiccupped nervously, choking back a sob as the tears began to flow faster.

"W-What the hell is wrong with me?" he wailed.

Alarmed now, the swordsman jumped out of bed and ran to the nearest mirror.

Oh. Oh god.

His normally pale skin was slowly turning a mottled red. His eyes were becoming puffy. His cheeks were twin spots of bright red, marred by tearstains.

And those tears, those goddamned tears, just kept pouring right out.

Albel screamed.

Fayt slouched his way to the freezer, dragging his socked feet and grumbling under his breath. He knew very well that Albel's tears were fake – anybody who knew Albel knew that he never cried – but he couldn't bring himself to be so heartless when his lover made the effort to look so helpless and adorable.

And, Fayt surmised, Albel was pregnant. True, there were still at least five months to go until the baby was born, but he would indulge all his ridiculous requests until then, just because. Besides… the bluenette eyed the contents of the fridge, deciding that tomorrow Albel was going on a health-kick whether he wanted to or not. It was oatmeal or nothing for breakfast. Ice cream was an insufficient source of vitamins and overall nutrition, despite how Albel protested that he was now "eating for two".

"Eating for two" my ass, he thought wryly. It's just an excuse for him to eat all the junk food he's been craving lately. I have to curb his sugar-intake and maintain his health, for his sake and the baby's.

He grinned then, the somewhat goofy grin that all –well, most– anticipating parents shared. He still couldn't believe it. Fayt even had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming (of course, the reverse also happened when Fayt had to check he wasn't in the grips of a nightmare, particularly when Albel was having a hormone-induced tantrum).

Albel was having a baby. Their baby.

Ooh, it gave him goose bumps.

He was reaching for the ever-present carton of ice cream when a male scream shattered the quiet of the apartment. Fayt dropped the carton, but caught it before it could hit the floor. His heart throbbed almost painfully as he called out worriedly, "Albel?"

No answer.

Without a second thought, Fayt shoved the ice cream back in the freezer and ran. But as he skidded towards the stairs, a shadowy form came tearing down first.

"Albel!"

"Fayt!" the swordsman sobbed back.

Fayt blinked as his lover threw himself into his arms. "Albel," he said uncertainly. "Did something happen?"

"They –hic– won't stop!"

"What won't stop?"

"T-The tears," he howled, clenching a handful of Fayt's t-shirt between his fists. "I can't get them to s-stop!"

Fayt watched in disbelief as Albel the Wicked broke down into a soggy heap over his pyjamas.

Welch had a bad feeling when she woke up that morning.

She looked out of the window, observing the perfect blue sky and multitudes of sunshine raining down. It was a beautiful day, and she smiled, stretching her arms over her head and yawning widely. You're probably just imagining it, she told herself sternly. The weather hasn't been this perfect for a long time and you are going to have a good day whether you like it or not. Items aren't going to sell themselves, you know, and a sour face won't help either.

Satisfied with her little pep-talk, Welch hopped out of bed and grabbed her towel, whistling a cheerful tune,

She was brushing out her hair when a strange sound reached her ears. Welch frowned. It was still too early for the street traders to begin setting up their stalls. Peterny may have been a trading town, but even the townsfolk liked to keep a decent hour and the noise levels usually only started rising well after seven.

The inventor wandered over to the window when the odd noise grew louder and stuck her head out to get a better look.

What she saw made the blood drain from her face in an instant.

A pyjama-clad Albel Nox was stampeding up the street, a fistful of tissues clenched in each fist, his face damp and red in the morning sunlight A familiar bluenette was clinging to his leg, yelling desperately for him to stop.

"You promised not to kill anyone until after the baby's born, Bel!"

"I don't care!"

Fayt yelped as he hit a pothole in the road. "Ow– listen, killing Welch won't solve anything. You need to stop and calm down before we can figure out way to help you!"

"I will not be made to wait! Someone has to pay NOW!"

Welch stumbled back from the window in a panic, but not before the irate swordsman saw her.

"Get out here, wench!" he bellowed. "Get out here and fix what you did to me!"

She peeked fearfully over the window sill. "B-But…pregnancy isn't something you can fix!" she babbled, clutching the curtain as if it could somehow save her.

"I don't care," he yelled again, shaking his fist up at her. "How can I face people looking like this? You've ruined me, wench, ruined me!"

"Albel, I think you're over-reacting–"

"Keep quiet, Fayt! Uncontrollable crying might suit you, but I have a reputation to uphold. Nothing, not even pregnancy, should be able to reduce Albel the Wicked to tears!"

Welch cringed. What exactly did he expect her to do about it? All the potion did was transform his body and make it capable of carrying and bearing a child, there weren't any other side-effects she was aware of. Then again… it was still in its testing phase. Perhaps there was an error she was unaware of.

"Wench, get down here!"

The guild master ducked out of view, wrapping the curtain around her trembling body for comfort (not that it would protect her from a sharp katana). Really, were a few tears reason enough to go berserk in the streets? Albel was completely out of hand, acting like a typical insensitive male. His feminine bits of anatomy were clearly overpowered by his masculine features, no wonder he was freaking out when his feminine hormones decided to pop out and say hello.

Wait. Her mouth dropped open, and she cursed herself for not realising it sooner.

Albel didn't know it. His body's severe emotional reaction was only due to the steady influxes of female hormones into his system, but there was nothing wrong with him. Once he calmed down, took a couple of deep breathes, he would be fine, she reasoned to herself.

She peered out again.

"What kind of captain am I? To succumb to such womanly behaviour, to exhibit such weakness in the streets… the shame would kill my father if he was still alive!"

"Albel, if you just give me a chance to explain…"

"No! Get down here so I can kill you!"

"Are you crazy? I'm not coming down so you can try and kill me!"

"Oh, believe me, there will be no trying about it," Albel snarled.

Beside him, Fayt dragged himself to his feet and tugged on his lover's pyjamas. "Albel," he said worriedly. "You're not looking so good. I think you should go home to lie down."

"Bah, I'll be fine once I kill the wench!"

But Fayt had a point. Albel's face was paler than normal, and taking on a distinctly green tinge. Sweat was beading on his forehead and his breathing was growing steadily more laboured.

"No, I think we should go home right now. You need to rest, killing Welch can wait."

As Fayt said that last part, he gave Welch an apologetic look. She winced, but nodded in understanding as she withdrew.

"Albel?" he continued in a softer tone, wrapping one arm around the older man's shoulders. "Are you feeling okay?"

Albel swallowed hard. He would admit he was feeling a little dizzy, but he was sure it would pass. Right now, he had the wench to take care of. "Never mind that," he snapped, wobbling forward. "I need to… I have to… oh Apris…"

Fayt cried out in alarm when Albel promptly bent over and threw up last night's dinner onto the street. But once the bluenette realised what it was, he sighed and gathered up his lover's hair so it wouldn't get splattered.

"Just let it pass, Bel," he said comfortingly, rubbing Albel's back in soothing circles until the man straightened up.

"Damn this morning sickness," he said weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Damn it to hell."

"Albel, you need to relax."

The said man glared at her with red-rimmed eyes, which, given that their colour was red, gave him an even more demonic appearance. He lay flat on his back, belly still exposed from where Mirage had given him the sonogram, but the vulnerable position made him look no less intimidating.

"Do I look like I can relax, woman?" he hissed, propping himself up on one elbow. "How can I relax when my body is falling apart!"

She sighed exasperatedly, stripping off her gloves. "As far as I can tell, you are in perfect health. As long as you eat properly and take the additional vitamins I gave you, there is no reason why your body shouldn't be able to adapt to the changes."

"Impossible!"

"You are," she corrected. "If you don't believe me, Fayt can tell you."

The bluenette looked up from where he was examining the sonogram, clutching it tightly with both hands. His eyes were bright and he had a slightly shell-shocked look on his face. "Look," he said in an awed voice, "it's our baby. Our baby."

Albel rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. Just get on with it, woman."

"Well," she shrugged, settling back in her chair. "There's not much else to tell, Albel. And with the report I received from Welch… as far as I can tell, you're right on track."

He twitched at the sound of Welch's name. "This morning sickness–"

"Will pass," she clarified. "I've been tracking all changes thus far and your pregnancy has been a normal on, even if it's only been four months. You're also well on your way to becoming female, I might add." unfortunately, it wasn't extending to his mentality, she thought privately.

"Yes, about that – how long will I have to be a woman?"

"According to my calculations… about a year after the birth. I studied the potion that Welch created, and that's my estimate as to its effects. It's really quite a clever little potion, how she created something as revolutionary as this on an underdeveloped planet is beyond me… I will have to arrange a meeting with her…"

Albel scowled. The last thing he needed or wanted to hear was how clever the little wench was.

"But you don't have to worry about anything now," Mirage finished. "Just concentrate on eating correctly and getting enough rest. Also, don't forget – Fayt!"

The bluenette spun around with a guilty look on his face. "What?" he squeaked.

"What are you doing on my computer?" she asked suspiciously, rising to take a look at the screen.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Liar."

Fayt shot Albel an annoyed 'who's side are you on' look. His lover only smirked and shrugged helplessly in reply.

"Are you… are you posting the sonogram on Facebook?"

Albel's smirk disappeared.

"He's posting my sonogram where?"

"No! No, I'm not!"

The swordsman jumped off the examining chair and stormed over to the computer. "I can't believe you're putting pictures of our baby on the Internet!" he snarled. "Take it off, now!"

"Only our friends will be able to see it, Bel, I have a private account," he protested weakly.

"I don't care! They'll be able to see the baby when he's born. I'll be damned if they see him before then!"

"You're such a spoilsport," Fayt muttered as he reluctantly deleted his latest post.

"I don't care. I'm pregnant, I'm entitled to be a spoilsport. Your job is to deal with it."

Fayt pouted, but kept quiet as Albel stomped back to the chair to finish his examination and Mirage followed with a faintly amused look on her face. Once they were immersed in their conversation again, he sneaked a longing look at the screen.

"Hey, Mirage. If it's okay with you, then I'm just going to check my mail, okay?"

She nodded absentmindedly, her attention held by Albel who asking a rather intriguing question about breastfeeding (she was mostly impressed by how completely unashamed he looked while asking about it – that in itself was a miracle of science).

Fayt grinned. Of course, he had no intention of just checking his mail. He quickly opened two windows – one for his mail, one for Facebook.

After another hesitation, he opened one more for his Livejournal.

Luther was humming happily to himself as he surfed the Internet, concentrating particularly on his favourite site, Facebook. He so loved keeping up with all his little data experiments, and this site was ingenious for letting him do so – none of the little fools would be caught dead without it, and put every detail of their pathetic lives on it. Really, it was a goldmine for data collection. He quirked a brow as he noticed that Fayt Leingod had updated his profile.

He sighed, hoping it was something interesting. For all his otherworldly experience and fantastic powers, the boy was unbearably boring. Almost every entry was about basketball, science or his insipid friends. Things only got really interesting when he started gushing about his gorgeous boyfriend, Albel.

Luther licked his lips. Now that was something worth looking at.

Eagerly, he clicked on the link and drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk, waiting for it to load. His heart jumped when he saw that Fayt had included an image and he was sure he had seen the word 'Albel' somewhere. Was it possible that the bluenette had finally put something interesting on his website? Something hot? Something… yaoi?

The Creator could hardly stand the wait.

When the image finally loaded, he was almost drooling over his keyboard, face pressed up against the screen. Would it be as raunchy as he hoped? Would it put his entire yaoi collection to shame?

Would it be… a foetus?

His jaw dropped.

It was a sonogram. A mother-freaking sonogram. Mouth still hanging open, Luther's gaze wandered to the caption below it.

OMG! Albel and I are going to have a baby!!!!

Luther stared at it for a long, long time.

"Good god," he muttered finally after several moments. "What have I unleashed upon the world?"

Then he paused.

"I wonder who the mother is…"

Curious now, he followed a link to the full post. While he read, the blood steadily drained from his face. Luther froze when he realized how his perfect natural order had been perverted. He stayed frozen when he realised that his wildest yaoi dream had been made reality.

"Oh my god… Albel Nox turned uke!"