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Gerard’s POV
“F-F-Frankie… I… I… I had a q-question t-to ask y-you…” I hesitated, stammering a little.
“Wh-What was it?” He asked and looked deep into my eyes.
I drew in a deep breath… It’s now, or never. I can’t delay this anymore. I let out the copious amounts of air in my lungs and pulled out the tiny box I dropped those few months ago.
“Frank… Would you marry me?” I asked, and I felt my stomach churn. What if he says no? What if he rejects me? What if he doesn’t love me? What if these past few weeks were lies?
“Oh… Oh my god, Gerard!” He exclaimed. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh my god! Yes!”
I quickly slipped the ring on his finger and pulled him over to me and held him close.
“God Frank… I love you so fucking much!” I said and planted sloppy kisses all over his face and neck.

-9 weeks later-

I woke up to the sound of Frank throwing up once again. He was gaining weight, then flying out of the bed in the morning and throwing up. Then he’d complain about these terrible headaches, back aches, he was tired all the time, he would not take a break on the damn butter sandwiches, and he’d get so fucking bent out of shape over everything that came out of my mouth. If it was a compliment, I was just saying that. If I tried to ask him to do something, I didn‘t think he was good enough anymore. If I had to go buy more butter and bread (which I had been doing a lot more lately since he’s been inhaling the butter sandwiches), I was sneaking around. I felt bad for him, and we had a doctors appointment scheduled for him in about two hours.
“Frankie… You feeling any better than normal?” I asked.
“W-Well… T-the ralfing isn’t as bad as it was y-yesterd-” He paused and threw up again. “Scratch that. I’m still feeling like shit…”
“Alright.” I said, and went into the bathroom and rubbed his back and he vomited a few more times before shutting the lid on the toilet and nodding to acknowledge he was okay now.

-Time Lapse-

“Well, what’s wrong with him?” I asked the doctor impatiently.
“Gerard… I’m afraid Frank is… pregnant…” Doctor Bryar said with the most puzzled expression on his face.
“I’M WHAT?!” Frank exclaimed.
“You’re pregnant… As in carrying a child… In your… whom… Which is odd… Because you’re a man…” Dr. Bryar said and scratched his head.
“Who’s the dad?” I asked.
“Gerard… Who do you think the father is?” Frank said and glared at me slightly.
“Wait… I’m the dad?” I said, still in disbelief over the situation entirely.
“For fucks sake… yes you’re the damn father.” Frank sighed at me.
“Really?!” I exclaimed, delighted at the idea of being a father, even under the circumstances.
“Yes! Jesus Christ! I’m not a slut!” He said.
I pushed my face against Frank’s tummy.
“Hi, son or daughter. This is your… One of your father’s…” I said to his tummy and ran my hand up and down his stomach.
“Aw…” Frank said and ran his hand through my hair.

-Three years later-

The wedding had been fabulous, and Emmet was growing up to be a strong little boy. Frank and I have never been happier.


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