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emmuzkaFic: You’ll never know what you gonna get
Author: Emmuzka
Genre and pairing: FOB/MCR, Patrick/Frank
Raiting: G
Warnings: mpreg
Disclaimer: Not true in any way.
Summary: "What is fucked up is that I packed all my books and records to empty the shelving for baby clothes and diapers and shit!"
Note: A sequel was requested to my short fic Like a Box of Chocolate when I originally published it in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
anon_lovefest. This is kinda it.
Frank is waiting him in the morning. He stands on the other side of the road and watches Patrick’s front door, like he could miss him if he glanced away. He had to make the plan to follow him on his way to school because Patrick is hard to get a hold of these days.
“Hey!” Frank skips to Patrick's side of the street to walk beside him. Patrick just hoists his backpack higher on his shoulder and keeps going. Not hostile, but not friendly, either. A good ground to work on this.
“You taking a bus? I'll give you a lift.”
“No thanks.”
“Okay, I'll just see you to the bus stop, then.” Everything still going as expected. There is a reason why Frank just didn't wait for him in the car.
Patrick doesn't distinctly order him to back off, and Frank decides to think it as a go-ahead. He takes his time to check Patrick out now. Wow, is he pregnant. Patrick is still thin, although he has obviously gained some extra padding along with the belly. He is wearing some kind of elastic fake jeans and a red-and-white horizontally striped shirt that stretches over his stomach. Frank doesn't know if the shirt is meant to be a fuck-you for all the staring and shit he must get at school, or if Patrick just has a taste that bad.
“You haven’t been around lately.”
Patrick doesn't look at him with the "well, duh" that Frank deserves, because hello, he is already huge, but he just continues, looking down.
“I quit the band.”
“You quit the band? Like, for real?” Like for good, because that would be just fucked up.
“My mom made me.”
"Just like that? Your mom-." Of course she would. He is sixteen, and he went and got new friends and started to hang out late, and lo and behold, got preggers.
"Yes." Now Patrick sounds irritated. "It's not like I would soon have much time for it anyway. And I still live at home, so. Mom's rules."
"So, what? You are grounded until you turn 18? That's fucked up!"
"No, it's not! What is fucked up is that I packed all my books and records to empty the shelving for baby clothes and diapers and shit!"
Frank doesn't know what to say to that. He has only a vague idea what babies need, like a plastic bathtub and bottles.
"My mom will pay for a daycare so I don't have to drop out and do a minimum wage for the rest of my life, but only if I stay the fuck away from you all, and yes it's a good deal!"
To Frank, that doesn't sound that good at all. "What if, what if I helped? You could maybe move out?"
Patrick speeds up his walk. There is the bus stop already. Frank can see the bus turning in the corner. Damnit.
"First, not in your fucking life, and second, with what money? You still live with your mom!"
"Yes, okay." Thinking of it, Patrick actually has a good deal going on. In the long run it would have to beat the odds of them two and a baby doing the white trash stint. Them two and a baby. Fuck. Frank doesn't want that, no way. He just wants Patrick to be able to see his friends, to keep going with his band. Nothing more.
"I'll have to go."
"We'll talk about this later, okay?" Frank takes a hold of Patrick sleeve to slow him down.
"No, we don't." Patrick shrugs to remove Frank's hand and continues to the bus door. He turns to face Frank. "Not your baby, not your problem."
"Yes it is!" Frank's raised volume gathers looks from the others stepping in the bus.
Patrick doesn't bother to answer but steps in.
"It's not that simple!" Frank yells as the bus' doors close. Really, it's not.
Author: Emmuzka
Genre and pairing: FOB/MCR, Patrick/Frank
Raiting: G
Warnings: mpreg
Disclaimer: Not true in any way.
Summary: "What is fucked up is that I packed all my books and records to empty the shelving for baby clothes and diapers and shit!"
Note: A sequel was requested to my short fic Like a Box of Chocolate when I originally published it in
anon_lovefest. This is kinda it. Frank is waiting him in the morning. He stands on the other side of the road and watches Patrick’s front door, like he could miss him if he glanced away. He had to make the plan to follow him on his way to school because Patrick is hard to get a hold of these days.
“Hey!” Frank skips to Patrick's side of the street to walk beside him. Patrick just hoists his backpack higher on his shoulder and keeps going. Not hostile, but not friendly, either. A good ground to work on this.
“You taking a bus? I'll give you a lift.”
“No thanks.”
“Okay, I'll just see you to the bus stop, then.” Everything still going as expected. There is a reason why Frank just didn't wait for him in the car.
Patrick doesn't distinctly order him to back off, and Frank decides to think it as a go-ahead. He takes his time to check Patrick out now. Wow, is he pregnant. Patrick is still thin, although he has obviously gained some extra padding along with the belly. He is wearing some kind of elastic fake jeans and a red-and-white horizontally striped shirt that stretches over his stomach. Frank doesn't know if the shirt is meant to be a fuck-you for all the staring and shit he must get at school, or if Patrick just has a taste that bad.
“You haven’t been around lately.”
Patrick doesn't look at him with the "well, duh" that Frank deserves, because hello, he is already huge, but he just continues, looking down.
“I quit the band.”
“You quit the band? Like, for real?” Like for good, because that would be just fucked up.
“My mom made me.”
"Just like that? Your mom-." Of course she would. He is sixteen, and he went and got new friends and started to hang out late, and lo and behold, got preggers.
"Yes." Now Patrick sounds irritated. "It's not like I would soon have much time for it anyway. And I still live at home, so. Mom's rules."
"So, what? You are grounded until you turn 18? That's fucked up!"
"No, it's not! What is fucked up is that I packed all my books and records to empty the shelving for baby clothes and diapers and shit!"
Frank doesn't know what to say to that. He has only a vague idea what babies need, like a plastic bathtub and bottles.
"My mom will pay for a daycare so I don't have to drop out and do a minimum wage for the rest of my life, but only if I stay the fuck away from you all, and yes it's a good deal!"
To Frank, that doesn't sound that good at all. "What if, what if I helped? You could maybe move out?"
Patrick speeds up his walk. There is the bus stop already. Frank can see the bus turning in the corner. Damnit.
"First, not in your fucking life, and second, with what money? You still live with your mom!"
"Yes, okay." Thinking of it, Patrick actually has a good deal going on. In the long run it would have to beat the odds of them two and a baby doing the white trash stint. Them two and a baby. Fuck. Frank doesn't want that, no way. He just wants Patrick to be able to see his friends, to keep going with his band. Nothing more.
"I'll have to go."
"We'll talk about this later, okay?" Frank takes a hold of Patrick sleeve to slow him down.
"No, we don't." Patrick shrugs to remove Frank's hand and continues to the bus door. He turns to face Frank. "Not your baby, not your problem."
"Yes it is!" Frank's raised volume gathers looks from the others stepping in the bus.
Patrick doesn't bother to answer but steps in.
"It's not that simple!" Frank yells as the bus' doors close. Really, it's not.
