The Pleasures of Fatherhood
Part 2
By Stranj100
Bobby swore that his stomach almost came out with that last heave. Weakly he reached up and flushed the toilet.
"You cannot deny you are sick now. That is the fourth time you have thrown- up this week. You should go see Dr. McCoy," his roommate said door of the bathroom. His massive form filled the frame.
Bobby stared in disgust at the Russian. "Pete, you're not my mother, so stop babying me. I'll go as soon as I brush my teeth, alright?"
What was wrong with everyone? They just wouldn't leave him alone. Everyone knew Johnny was his best friend and since he left, they wouldn't stop asking Bobby if he was alright. The teachers were almost as bad. The only ones who didn't ask were Piotr and Logan, probably because they were the only ones who knew the truth about Johnny and him, the truth that Bobby and his best friend were more than just friends.
Piotr knew because he had been their roommate for the last couple of years. He had remained silent about the secret relationship and that is why Bobby tolerated him, now. Logan knew thanks to his heightened senses. He had told Bobby; he had better not hurt Rogue or he would gut him. That had strengthened Bobby's resolve to break it off with Johnny.
"Alright, then I shall go with you," Piotr said before moving off to change out of his bedclothes.
Bobby only sighed. There was no arguing with the Russian, when he was in big brother mode.
"Ah, if it isn't our own resident Russian Renoir and my cryogenically capable comrade, what causes you both to invade my inner sanctum so early on this most illustrious morning?" Dr. Henry "Hank" McCoy greeted as the two young men entered the med-lab.
The man padded forward on his oversized bare feet—it's hard to get shoes in size twenty-something, while delicately polishing his glasses with a handkerchief in oversized hands. He was as tall as Piotr and built like a linebacker, despite his size he moved with amazing grace and agility. His impressive body hid an equally impressive mind. In addition to being an M.D., held several PhDs in various sciences. His codename "Beast" didn't do him justice.
The salutation made Bobby smile. He really did like Hank and not just for the way he talked. They shared quite a few things in common, like their unique sense of humor and love of Twinkies. Hank always kept a box in the bottom drawer of his desk.
Hank was an alumnus and had returned to the school shortly after Dr. Grey died. Hank trying to help had arranged grief counseling for everyone. He and Bobby had bonded during their sessions. Both of them had known and loved Jean like the sister they never had. They both had been on the receiving end of her gentle and unassuming advice. Both missed her a lot.
Despite that there was nearly ten years difference between them they now found themselves to be good friends.
Piotr answered the doctor's question. "Bobby is ill, Doctor. He has thrown- up everyday this week. He would not have come to you if I had not forced him." He gave his roommate a stern look.
Bobby returned a dirty look. "I would too have come and I can answer my own questions, Pete," he snapped.
The Hank looked at his young friend in concern. "How often does the vomiting occur?"
"Once, maybe twice a day," the smaller youth answered.
Hank nodded and gestured for Bobby to have a seat on an examination table, as he went to grab a clipboard.
"Do you experience any other symptoms?" the doctor asked when he returned.
"I have been felling a little tired lately," Bobby replied.
"Tiredness, irritableness, and vomiting—are there any other symptoms?"
"I'm not irritable!" the blonde snapped.
"Yes, you are," chimed Piotr.
Bobby began to sulk.
The doctor finished scribbling some note and said, "It sounds as though you might have a virus or possibly a parasite. I will need to run some test to be certain of which. Now, Piotr, if would go outside..."
"Why? I wish to stay with Bobby," the larger youth protested.
"Because young Robert will need to disrobe and I'm certain he would feel better with you safe guarding his modesty from prying eyes," Hank said in a nonchalant manner.
As usual, it took the Russian a slight moment to translate the doctor's words, but when he finished he simply nodded and left the room—his cheeks filled with color.
"Do I really have to strip naked?" Bobby asked nervously.
"No, not really just to your undergarments should be sufficient. It seemed as though your patience for your Slavic classmate was wearing thin, so I thought to play on his Achilles heel to make leave." The large man answered.
"I'm his weakness?"
Hank shook his head. "No, his shyness."
A relived look filled Bobby's face.
"Now if you would finish doffing your garments and step in to the booth." The doctor said gesturing at a machine.
The teen stripped to his boxer-briefs and got into the booth. After nearly fifteen minutes, he heard his friend exclaim, "Oh, my stars and garters!"
"What? Is it bad? Am I dying?" the boy asked as he stepped out from the inside of the booth panic filling his voice.
Hank turned to look at the young man. "There is no need for concern. Your condition though serious is hardly fatal. In fact, nearly fifty percent of the population is afflicted at some point in their lives. Robert, may I ask, as your physician, are you on intimate terms with Mr. Rasputin?"
"Huh, what?" Realization dawned and Bobby became angry. "How could you accuse me of something like that? Peter is love with Kitty and I have Rogue. What does this have to do with me being sick?"
Hank made calming motions. "Robert, please calm. I'm not trying to imply judgment on anyone's lifestyle choices or even youthful experimentation. The fact of the matter is you are pregnant."
"How? What? You're joking. That's a horrible joke." Bobby said testily.
"I assure you I am not. I was uncertain of what the scans showed. I reviewed Dr. Grey's files on you. Previous scans revealed that you possessed two organs of unknown function. She had theorized that these organs were responsible for your cryogenic abilities. These new scans disprove that theory. The larger organ clear has a developing embryo within and is connected to your rectum. That would make the smaller organ an ovary." He turned a monitor to show his patient.
There it was on the monitor—a small vague human-tadpole shaped blob. There was a head, eyes, two arms, and two legs. Bobby felt his knees go weak. The world rushed up to greet him, but Hank interceded. He gathered up the unresponsive teen sat him up on a bed. There the boy began to cry.
Hank tried to comfort his friend, rubbing his back with a large hand even tried to joke. "You're not the first person to have baby you know. There are babies born everyday."
"No, but I'm the only guy ever," Bobby moaned, "Everyone will find out. I won't be able to hide it anymore."
"Having a baby is nothing to be ashamed of," the older man offered trying again to comfort the younger.
"Not the baby—the fact that I'm gay," with that said the blonde began to cry into the larger man's chest.
The doctor listened to his young friend's tormented crying and enveloped him in a hug. He had suspected that his friend's preference was tilted, the fact that St. John's defection hurt him as much as Jean's death seemed proof of that. "You know you do have an option."
"What option?" Bobby said pushing away, his eyes red from tears.
He looked into Hank's face and saw it filled with turmoil. "You are afraid people will discover secret. ...you could abort the fetus, and then no one would know, but you and me. You could keep your secret."
The young man suddenly felt numb. "I...I think I need to lay down."
"Yes, rest now. We'll talk more later," the doctor said handing his patient a blanket from nearby.
Bobby lay down as Hank pulled a curtain cutting the bed off from the rest of the med-lab. He then padded over to the door to tell Piotr to head to class—he was keeping Bobby for observation. Then padded back to his office and dimmed the lab's lights before closing the door, leaving Bobby alone with his thoughts.
Bobby caressed his stomach. He was carrying Johnny's baby. His only real love left him with a child. Could he keep it? What would every one say? What would Rogue say? What would she do? What would Logan do? Would the professor kick him out? Could he tell his parents? What would the say? Should he get an abortion? Could he stop the life growing inside him? Should he end his own life? It would be easy—two slits to his wrists and there would be no pain, no suffering. His secrets wouldn't matter then. No one would know anything then. Hank would keep silent. He would have to; he's a doctor. The thoughts danced endlessly in his head. Finally, with his strength gone, Bobby fell into a fitful sleep.
Logan didn't kill Bobby even though Rogue had been hurt, at first, when she found out about the baby. Eventually, she forgave him. She said that part of her had always known that Bobby didn't love her and that she had been trying to fool herself. How could she deny the truth when she shared both his and Johnny's memories?
Jubilee and Kitty helped pull Rogue through her rough spot. In the end, the three girls declared themselves "Aunties" and dedicated their free time to making Bobby's life miserable, with talk of baby names and self-run baby preparedness classes. They even kept on talking about a baby shower, that made him groan.
The professor and the rest of the faculty were unsurprisingly supportive. They had moved Bobby into his own room with its own bathroom and a huge walk-in closet. The "Aunties" decided to convert the closet into a nursery with every shade of pink and blue imaginable.
Piotr was almost as bad as the girls were. When he found out about the baby, he had turned into a mother hen. He was constantly asking, was he hungry, did he need anything, was he cold, did he need a sweater?Was he cold? Bobby could walk naked through a blizzard in the arctic without even a shiver. Did he need a sweater? If he didn't know any better, he would swear Piotr thought he was the father of his child.
Jean-Paul, the only other out gay student, had asked Bobby out. The idea of dating someone while he was pregnant was too much for him, so Bobby kept him at a distance. Despite that, they became friends. The rest of the school chalked the baby up as one more weird mutant thing. Thankfully, nobody pried about who the father was. Anybody who did know kept quite.
Bobby had taken to wearing Johnny's over-sized t-shirts. They barely fit him now. He loved the way they smelled. They smelled like Johnny—a combination of aftershave and lighter fluid. The scent made Bobby miss his love horribly, but at the same time comforted him. He had thought a couple of times about having the professor help track Johnny down, but in the end, he decided against it. The last thing his baby would need in its life is a terrorist father. If Johnny ever left Magneto, he would welcome him back with open arms, but until that happened, it would be best if he never learned about the baby.
Bobby sighed as he looked out his bedroom window at the falling snow. He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts of his absent love. "We don't need him," he said caressing his swollen stomach. He still didn't believe that completely.
"Bobby, you have a visitor. Please come to my study." The professor projected into his head.
A visitor, who could it be? "Alright, I'll be right there."
The teen braced his aching back and slowly turned toward the door. Just then, the baby shifted putting all its weight onto his bladder. "Right after I go to the bathroom."
"Bobby!" exclaimed a very surprised familiar female voice as he entered the study.
"Mom!" exclaimed Bobby with equal surprise as he turned his eyes to the woman that birthed him. He looked about the room and found the professor absent.
"What happened to you?" Madeline Drake asked her son.
He eased himself into one of the professor's comfortable armchairs, thankful to get off his swelling feet. "I think that it's pretty obvious."
"You gained excess weight?"
Ah, yes, his Catholic mother, master of two things guilt and denial. The Jewish people may have invented guilt, but the Catholics perfected it. His mother wields it like a weapon. It was one of the reasons he had kept being gay and being a mutant a secret. As good as she was with guilt, denial was her favorite tactic. Whenever something can't be hidden away, deny it. This was the woman who asked if he had ever tried not being a mutant. She was deep in it now.
Bobby gasped as the baby decided to give him an internal kidney punch. "I think the prize-fighter here dislikes being called 'excess weight'."
"You're pregnant?"
"Got it on the second try."
His mother's eyes were very wide and she looked very lost. Bobby didn't know what to say next. He had dread telling his parents. He was waiting until after the baby was born to try to explain.
The baby kicked, giving Bobby an idea. He got up and moved over to the couch where his mother was sitting. "The baby's kicking. Do you want to feel it?"
Mrs. Drake hesitated for a moment, but then placed a hand on her son's swollen stomach. The baby cooperated for once and gave another kick.
His mom gasped. "How is this possible?"
Bobby shrugged. "In the usual manner except instead of boy meets girl; it's boy meets mutant boy."
"So, you're gay?"
Bobby shook his head in disbelief. "I thought all those dirty magazines you found last summer would be proof enough."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Madeline said.
"Mom, they were alphabetized and in chronological order. I certainly didn't do that." Her son scoffed.
His mother was saved from answering by another kick from the baby. She stared down at Bobby's stomach in wonder. "It's true. This is happening."
"Of course, it's true. I might hold back the truth, but I would never lie to you.
Mrs. Drake embraced her son and began to cry. Bobby felt himself begin to tear up. "Mama, please don't... my hormones will make me..." Bobby's plea went unheard and soon both mother and son were crying happily into each other's arms.
Eventually, his mother pushed away from Bobby and began wiping her eyes with a tissue from her purse. "When you didn't come home for the summer and Thanksgiving, I thought you hated us because of what happened with Ronny and the police or maybe that you thought you weren't welcome anymore." She sniffed and handed him a tissue.
Bobby took it and explained, "No, I could never hate you and I know you love me. It's just, I didn't know how to explain this. I was going to wait until after the baby was born because I thought it might be easier."
"You will be home for Christmas, right?" his mother asked.
Bobby happily answered, "Of course and maybe by then will have a new member of the family."
The two spent some quiet time discussing the baby in some form or other. Like what to tell the rest of the family. Mrs. Drake said she would handle that. They talked about names. She liked Catherine for a girl and Joshua for a boy. They also talked about how to pay for diapers and formula. Formula would be necessary because Bobby lacked the proper equipment. It just went to show that mutations are far from perfect. The Professor came back at that time and insisted that the school would provide formula. He called providing for a potential student.
Bobby showed his mom his new room and the nursery the "Aunties" were putting together. "You know that your old crib would go nicely in here. I'll have your father pull it out of storage when I get home. We'll ship it up before the baby comes. Oh, and the baby can use Ronny's old one when you visit. I'm so glad I never listened to your father and didn't get rid of them." She said as she looked about the room.
There was a slight knock and the door opened to reveal Piotr. "I am sorry, Robert. You have company. I just came to check on you and see if you are hungry."
"I'm alright, Pete. I'll eat something later. Pete, I'd like you to meet my mom. Mom, this is my friend, Piotr. He used to be my roommate." Bobby explained.
Madeline held out her hand and gave the Russian an appraising look. "It's pleasure to meet one of Bobby's friend," she said.
"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Drake," Piotr said warmly.
"Pete's an artist," Bobby said trying to make conversation.
"Really, I'll have to see some of your work." Mrs. Drake said.
"I would be delighted to show you," the Russian said automatically.
"Maybe later, Pete," Bobby said cutting in.
"Alright then, remember you have an appointment with Dr. McCoy in the morning and since you do not need me I shall go study in my room. Tell me if you need anything." Piotr said.
The blonde smiled at his former roommate trying to appease him. "Of course and I'll even go to bed early tonight."
The larger boy smiled back and nodded before exiting the room.
As the door shut Bobby's mom began talking. "He's such a nice, polite boy, handsome too. Is he the father?"
Bobby's jaw almost dropped to the floor, but he controlled his embarrassment. "Mom... He's just my friend!"
"Then who's the father? Please don't say some stranger."
Jean-Paul walked in just then without knocking. Normally that would have angered the blonde, but now he was grateful for the interruption. Jean-Paul came over and gave him a peck on the cheek. That was his normal greeting for Bobby.
"I heard your mother was visiting and to meet her," Jean-Paul said as stared lustfully at Bobby.
Bobby still couldn't understand the reaction. He was as big as a barn. How attractive could he be? He just cleared his throat and made the introduction. "J.P., this is my mom; Mom, this is Jean-Paul, a friend." Bobby emphasized the last word.
"A pleasure," his mom said actually holding out her hand.
Jean-Paul, mustering all the suaveness that his French-Canadian ancestry could muster, took the hand and kissed it lightly. "The pleasure is all mine. I assure you, Mademoiselle Drake."
Madeline Drake actually let out a small sigh. Her son tried not to roll his eyes.
"Please, call me Madeline." Bobby's eyes widened in surprise. She had always been Mrs. Drake to his friends."
"Madeline, such a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman," Jean-Paul replied.
Madeline giggled and blushed. "Please, stop."
Bobby couldn't believe the way his mother was acting. Was it something having to do with women and anything remotely French? He didn't get it.
"Thanks for stopping by J.P. Now, I would like to have time with my mother."
"Bobby, He doesn't have to leave yet," his mother scolded.
"Non, Madeline, whatever Bobby wants; Bobby should get, hmm. I will go for now." Jean-Paul placed a kiss on Bobby's cheek then left. He wanted to strangle him.
"Now, he's a nice young man. He obviously likes you. Why did you drive him away? Is he the father?"
"Mom!" he yelled exasperated.
Mrs. Drake spent the rest of her visit trying to deduce the identity of the father. She suggested nearly every boy on campus and at one point even, she suggested Logan. Bobby thought he would die. In the end, she insisted it was either Piotr or Jean-Paul. Thanks to Piotr's concerned nature and Jean- Paul over-friendliness and not so mild seduction attempts. Bobby didn't try to correct her, because he didn't know how to explain that the father of her first grandchild was the boy who exploded police cars on her front lawn.
tbc
A/N: Sorry for the long delay the story has actually been written for about two weeks and I just now finished typing it. I hope to have the next installment up soon. (crosses fingers) Enjoy.