Inciting Incident

Ienzo kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Demyx was treating him almost too well. He was kind and sweet and learned obscenely quickly how to read his many unpleasant moods. Ienzo realized that, despite having "partners", he'd never had a serious partner . Hadn't quite seen the obsessive need. He was able to relax around Demyx in a way that he couldn't even around himself, despite the newness of this relationship. Simply being was taking a lot of his strength.

It was going too well. There had to be a catch.

"Feel like I have my own apartment," Riku remarked dryly. "Barely seen you all month."

Ienzo shrugged. "Do you mind?"

"So long as your checks keep cashing, no," he said, with a yawn. "Funny. When I imagined you settling down with someone, I didn't think it'd be him. "

"I'm not settling," Ienzo said, without looking up from his laptop.

"Whatever you say," Riku said. He opened the fridge and dug out some leftovers.

"I'm not ."

Riku rolled his eyes. "Look, as long as you're happy I don't care."

He considered. Was this happiness? He honestly couldn't tell. If this was happiness, what had he felt before? The transition had opened a new chapter of his life, but the chapter was often… open, unstructured. "Are you happy, in your relationships?"

Riku stuck something in the microwave. "...You're funny."

"Hey, you chose to have two life partners."

"Is it a choice, though?" He was being facetious. "Couldn't imagine life without 'em."

"Really? I could. It'd be much quieter around here."

He flopped down onto the couch. "Not all of our boyfriends have their own apartments."

Ienzo blushed despite himself.

"As long as you're happy," Riku repeated, a little more genuinely. "You deserve it. Really."

Riku had seen him in a lot of dark spots. Too many to be dignified. Ienzo had been much more stable recently, but still the past lingered. "Thank you," he said. "You're a good friend." He cleared his throat. "I suppose you want to watch more garbage?"

"More like you're not a man of culture," Riku remarked. He picked up the remote. "Which episode were we on?"

"Oh, Giannina was detonating," he remarked. "Isn't she always."

"Ha. Yeah."

The days seemed to be positively flying.

It seemed like if he weren't working, or working on his own personal projects, he was seeing Demyx. Some of these were normal dates-dinners, hikes, going to the movies-but often they wound up in Demyx's apartment. Regardless of how Ienzo emotionally felt , there was one thing undeniable. Their physical chemistry was shocking to him. He thought people only felt things like this in books or movies, only to realize maybe there was a reason people wrote about things so. Perhaps he had never felt this way. Or was it merely that it was the first serious physical interaction that he'd had since he'd transitioned? Did it matter? Either way, he quite often found himself, when they were not able to be together, furiously masturbating like a teenager.

He almost felt physically ill. But weirdly the illness was exhilarating. It had been a long time since he'd felt so physically attached to anyone, so drawn. He wondered if he were losing himself, or perhaps finding himself?

He tried to be as meticulously careful as possible. But, well, Demyx was the only person he was seeing, and vice versa, not to mention after being on HRT a year he was basically sterile. Were there moments they got too swept up in things to use a condom? Absolutely, but still Demyx tried to pull out when possible.

Well. Hindsight's 20/20, isn't it?

They could barely keep their hands off each other. These dates often reached a boiling point, almost always at Demyx's apartment. He remembered one night they had gone to see an admittedly mediocre production of Antony & Cleopatra over at the college. He found himself focusing more on Demyx's hand on his thigh than the actors butchering Shakespeare on stage. The drive back Ienzo railed into the production with an almost merciless glee, while also coldly conscious of the fact that these people were just students trying their best.

"I never thought Shakespeare was your cup of tea," Ienzo said, at the end of his tirade.

"Oh, it isn't," Demyx said with a laugh. "I just knew you would either really enjoy it, or enjoy it in a bad movie kind of way. Gotta say. You have a lot of opinions."

"I'm a librarian-of course I have a lot of opinions about how Shakespeare should be performed." He sighed. "I have a lot of opinions about everything. "

"Besides, I find it entertaining when you get worked up. Watching your face the whole time was its own kind of show." He smirked.

"Oh, I can give you a show," Ienzo said breezily. "If a show is what you want."

He saw Demyx's flush in the streetlight. "Jesus, not while I'm driving."

They'd barely made it into the door of the apartment before they were kissing. Ienzo had to awkwardly bend one arm to get it all the way shut. He'd never really allowed himself to open and feel with such abandon in his relationships-then again, through most of them he hadn't really been himself on multiple levels. He pressed Demyx back against the hallway wall, feeling his hands wander down over Ienzo's body. He tasted like something vaguely minty. Ienzo broke off the kiss to press his mouth against his throat, drinking in the weird sweetness of skin.

He felt Demyx's hand slide down between his legs, trying to rub through the fabric, and he gasped, clutching handfuls of Demyx's shirt in his hands. A second later he was the one being pressed against the wall, and he was struggling with the buttons of his pants so he could be touched properly. Demyx obliged, slipping his hand below the waistband. He rolled the clit between his fingers, almost too gently, making Ienzo feel utterly weak. "You've become-good at this rather quickly," he said.

"Well, I do like to perform," he said in a low voice. "Thought you'd have caught on by now."

Ienzo felt a finger enter him and gasped. For a moment he tried to find the words to ask if they could go back into the bedroom; then, equally, he realized that was unlikely. With shaking hands he fumbled for Demyx's pants, taking his hardened dick out and stroking it roughly. He kicked off his own slacks and underwear.

"I like your style," he said.

"You do bring it out of me," Ienzo retorted. He lifted one leg against Demyx's hip and he reached to support it. With his other hand, he guided his dick inside of Ienzo. As practical as he tried to be, feeling it raw within him only heightened the sensation.

"Take your other leg," Demyx said breathlessly, "And sort of-"

"Right," he said, equally as shaky, and wrapped his legs around his waist. It felt odd to be completely supported by him. In fact, before all this he'd never let himself be told what to do in bed. Maybe it was because he'd never felt comfortable being so vulnerable before now, and ceding control.

It helped that Demyx honestly did know how to fuck. He couldn't help the small noises he was making. He felt Demyx's lips and tongue against his throat.

"I suspect," he said, almost gasping with each thrust, "body worship may be one of your kinks."

"No shit. " He dragged his mouth back to Ienzo's.

The tension was already starting to grow, a delicious sort of tingling along his thighs and abdomen. In the moment it didn't matter that the fabric of his shirt rubbing against the wall did odd things to his skin or that he could still feel the zipper of Demyx's jeans, which were not quite off. He no longer had to convince himself to avoid falling apart. Another shimmer of pleasure broke over him, the wavebreak threatening to burst. He couldn't even really kiss anymore, too caught in it to do anything other than be fucked. The sounds Demyx was making weren't helping.

"You're close," Demyx said, not quite breaking the fog.

"You don't say."

He ground his hips a little, right up against Ienzo's clit, pushing him fully into the deep end, a place lacking thought or consciousness. He felt something warm and sticky against his legs and came to. He'd been set down but was still being supported.

"I'm sorry," Demyx said, gasping. "I just… really didn't want to do it in you."

"That's alright," Ienzo said. His knees were weak.

"I can feel it," he continued. "Around me? When you-"

He blushed. He didn't know why this was embarrassing. "Oh?"

He nodded. "It feels like… god, I don't even know how to describe it. I almost started panicking because-well. I didn't think I could get it out in time."

"How you can even think at all is a mystery," Ienzo remarked. "Though I have to say- that show was much better than the one we just came from."

Demyx kissed him once. "I try my best."

What came next could all be traced back to a moment after a party Demyx's friend threw. The concept of such intense socializing with strangers had him drinking more than he was wont to normally, but having an anchor in this party did help. However, by the time they got back he was more than sober enough to consent.

As things became more intense, more involved… He found himself on top of Demyx, riding him and grinding hard against him, the other man's hands holding fast to his hips. He was precariously too close, that now-familiar space when actual thinking when out the window.

"Hey," Demyx said. "Ienzo? I'm pretty close-you probably should-"

He wasn't quite conscious enough to listen. "It's okay," he said. "Really. The HRT-"

"If you're sure-"

He was truly cresting now. "It's alright." The intensity of it, as always, startled him, making him spasm, and he felt, possibly for the first time, the real warmth as Demyx finished inside him. Wearily, he lay down. He wiped the sweat off his brow, positively exhausted. "We're quite good at this, aren't we?" He closed his eyes, already ready for sleep.

Demyx kissed his forehead. "The best."

He woke slowly, feeling acutely the dried sweat on his body, almost an achiness in his hips. He looked up and saw that his boyfriend was still fast asleep, a faint blonde stubble having shown up overnight. I think I may love you, Ienzo thought. That had to be the only explanation.

Almost as if at the thought, Demyx stirred. "Hey," he said quietly.

"Good morning."

He kissed him. "I had a brainwave, after you fell asleep," he said, touching his cheek. "Move in with me."

Ienzo wasn't sure how to react.

"I know your roommate is moving in with his partners after the lease is up, and that's been stressing you out," he said slowly. "If you want your own room, I have an office."

"You're sure?" he asked. He swallowed. "It hasn't been that long-"

"It's been six months," Demyx said. "I don't want to force you to do anything, though."

"As long as you're sure," he said softly. "Yes… that might be… nice."

As he dealt with all this moving… something started to change.

He felt anxious and emotional often, but he attributed it to the stress of moving. One morning, after finally convincing Demyx to get rid of that horrid futon in lieu of Ienzo's actual couch, he woke up… dizzy.

"Are you okay?" Demyx asked, reaching for his hand.

"Just a… touch of vertigo," he said, holding a hand to his head.

"Did you drink enough water yesterday?" Things had gotten awfully acrobatic.

"Probably not-"

"That's it," Demyx said. "I'll get you some."

But despite frighteningly clear urine, the dizziness didn't quite fade. It was early spring, so he attributed it to allergies, despite never really having had them previously. Soon after that, he was nauseous-not enough to vomit, but enough to be distracting. But there was a wicked stomach bug going around, he'd likely caught a mild version of it.

It didn't pass.

"You should go to the doctor," Demyx suggested. "Maybe you're allergic to something?"

He investigated the apartment thoroughly for mold, but it was modern enough that there was nothing, and allergy medicine didn't help much. His general practitioner assured him there was nothing wrong with him, that it could be stress. But Ienzo had had intense anxiety, and it didn't feel the same. One morning as he got ready for work, his normal shoes felt quite tight around his ankles. Had he gained weight, perhaps? The nausea that day was strong enough to make him consider going home.

If he weren't sick, what was wrong with him? He doubted it was nothing. An unknown allergy, considering his eating habits were slightly different now? The sudden development of IBS? But he'd had no issues with bowel movements. What about lactose intolerance? It occasionally happened to people as they moved from childhood to adulthood, but he was into his late twenties, surely it would've happened by now.

After Demyx went to bed, he sat with his laptop, researching. Mostly for shits and giggles, he typed in his symptoms to see what would come up.

Pregnancy. Har, har.

Wait. No.

Ienzo blinked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. HRT made the womb an inhospitable environment; it was completely impossible. If he'd been on it only three or six months, maybe. But it'd been over a year now.

He dug. Deeply, with something akin to panic. As Demyx was a professor, his credentials lent Ienzo a wealth of databases from the university, on top of his own from the library. Finally, approaching dawn, he stumbled upon an article which made his heart stop.

The article stated, basically, that while HRT made a trans person essentially sterile, sterility was not necessarily guaranteed.

His breath picked up. He shut the computer. No, it wasn't possible. There had to be some other explanation. Well, at least it was easy to disprove this hypothesis, if somewhat humiliating. He waited until the local drugstore opened, bought the test, and brought it back to the apartment.

I'm crazy, he thought. I just wasted twenty dollars. Money better used to get takeout, pay bills. I'm being paranoid. He drank a big glass of water, waited until his bladder was uncomfortably full, and took the test. He set it on a flat surface as advised, waited the requisite three minutes, and picked it up, fully expecting it to confirm his neuroses were just that.

Pregnant, it said, in indisputable small black letters.

Ah. A dud, then. Or perhaps a false positive? He hadn't been as religious lately at peeing after sex, perhaps some kind of UTI or kidney infection? The symptoms, if advanced enough, were similar.

His hands were shaking. He'd wait until tomorrow morning, to use the morning urine, that'd be a more accurate reading.

But when he repeated this experiment with the second stick in the box, he hadn't even fully taken the test into his hands before it was reading a result. Again. Pregnant.

"No," he said to it aloud. "Stupid thing." He buried it all in their bathroom trash. But as he stood, feeling that requisite dizziness, the nausea, he thought-

A medical professional could confirm that this was not that. Shakily, he called out of work, called his OBGYN, who he hadn't seen in some months. He took himself there in a haze of dissociation. Gave a urine sample. Waited.

"Is everything alright?" the doctor, a woman named Aerith Gainsborough, asked when she saw him. "I don't think you're due for PAP."

"I'm afraid I've convinced myself of something insane," he said slowly, gripping the table tightly. "I… I believe the pregnancy test I took was a false positive… it's not possible. I'm sterile, yes?" He looked up at her, seeking, he realized, confirmation.

She hesitated. "Well, the chance of conception on testosterone is certainly very low, but not impossible," she said. "Are you using… other methods of contraception?"

"Well, yes, but-"

She thought. "Have things ever… slipped, even once?"

He thought of the night of the party. "...Perhaps once or twice."

"Are you experiencing any symptoms? Dizziness, nausea, strange cravings, swelling in the feet or ankles?"

He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. "Well-"

She pursed her lips. "Just to be thorough, I'll run your blood hCG too," she said. "I'll get to the bottom of it. Don't you worry."

Those fifteen minutes she was gone were agony. He sat rocking slowly back and forth, something he hadn't had to do in many years. It wasn't possible. It was not possible.

She came back in, her expression not at all reassuring. "Well, I have an answer," she said, turning her tablet towards him. "See these numbers here?"

One of the reasons Ienzo liked Dr. Gainsborough so much was that she shared her process with him-on top of being nonchalant about gender identity. "Yes."

"This is what they look like in a person that isn't pregnant. This is what they look like when they are. And this is what yours looks like." She swiped through a few tabs.

Seeing it there, indisputably, in black and white, that he-

"You're pregnant," she said softly. "Judging just by your hormones, I'd say-very."

He shut his eyes tightly.

"You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to," she added, equally as softly. "You're likely early on enough that, should you choose to terminate, you'd only need to take a pill. I understand your situation is not… an expected one."

He rested his hands in his lap. They were trembling.

"I know this is a real shock," she said. "All things considering. How do you feel?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"Why don't you think about it?" she said. "Take a few days. Maybe talk about it with your partner. Do you feel safe with them?"

God. He was going to have to tell Demyx. He felt a fine sweat break over his body. "Yes."

"You have a little time," she said.

"Oh," he said numbly. "Is that so."

"Perhaps… avoid your next dose of HRT until you decide," she added. "Ease off of it gently."

"Okay."

"Ienzo?"

"What?"

She squeezed his hand. "You're going to get through this."