Learning to Fall.

Ryan squinted his eyes and made a face at the smell of coffee brewing downstairs. Pete only liked coffee that tasted like candy bars, so he didn't know what to make of it. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and groaned. Wasn't six a little earlier for visitors? Especially when Pete tended to not fall asleep until three or four?

Ryan groaned, wanting to roll over and press his face into the pillow, but he couldn't. Or rather, he could, but refused. Despite the doctor saying it was fine and the confirmation of multiple internet searches, he just couldn't shake the feeling that if he laid on the hardly there baby bump he'd be crushing his future child's head or cutting off their oxygen supply.

There were footsteps and then Pete was in the room again with a mug and his laptop, crawling back into bed and kissing the top of Ryan's head. "You up, baby?" he asked.

The boy groaned. He didn't know how the older boy survived on three hours of sleep but he knew that he couldn't. Ryan could fall asleep and he could stay asleep, so long as someone wasn't typing at all hours of the night and laughing at YouTube videos and getting up repeatedly to go wander around the house and do God knows what. He'd known it was bad, but he'd had no idea just how ridiculous Pete's sleeping patterns were until he'd moved in.

"I'm going to the guest room." Ryan mumbled, not even bothering to sound apologetic. It was too early to bother with being polite.

"O-Okay."

The younger boy shrugged in response and grabbed his phone off the dresser before disappearing down the hallway. This was ridiculous. Pete was on enough medication for his stress and anxiety. Certainly the doctor could give him something for the insomnia. Ryan ended up tossing and turning for an hour, before he finally gave up and went downstairs to make something for breakfast.

---

Pete had been wincing ever since Ryan left the room and he just lowered his head when he heard the footsteps in the hall, knowing that sound was his fault. He just couldn't help it. And he was so used to it, to not having to worry about how he was affecting another person. And now he had to worry about how he was affecting the person in Ryan as well. It was too much stress, too much guilt. He sighed and pushed the laptop to Ryan's side of the bed, quietly creeping down the stairs.

The boy was making toast. A jar of strawberry jam was on the counter and Ryan's hand was absently resting on his stomach. Pete just stood in silence for a moment, still not speaking when the other boy's eyes came up to find his. It had been just over two months and they were four months along now. Ryan lifted his hand off his stomach to twist at the band of gold on his left ring finger, turning away from Pete when his toast popped up.

"I'm sorry." Pete mumbled, not certain if he was apologizing for the fact that he couldn't sleep or for the broken condom.

Ryan sighed, hardly audible over the sound of the knife scraping across the toast. "You should talk to your doctor about sleeping pills or something."

Pete crossed the room, slipping his arms around Ryan's waist and letting his hands rest on the boy's stomach, his chin on Ryan's shoulder. "I've tried sleeping pills." He started feathering kisses along Ryan's neck. "They don't work."

"I can't live on three hours of sleep like you. Neither can the baby."

It hurt to hear, but Pete knew that wasn't why Ryan was saying it. He watched the boy take a bite of his toast before he spoke. "I guess . . . maybe you should stay in the guest room and I-I'll try to work on it." The end of his sentence was shaky, tentative, like he was too afraid to promise because he knew he'd fail.

Ryan turned his head, kissing Pete softly. His mouth tasted like strawberries.

---

"What meds do you take anyway?" Ryan asked, appearing in the doorway of Pete's room where the older was scribbling something down in a notepad, probably a grocery list or something else he'd lose before he finished.

Pete looked up, his forehead wrinkling slightly in confusion. "I, uh . . . different stuff. Y'know. Why?"

Ryan shifted awkwardly and bit his bottom lip. "I just think, like, maybe I should know what medications my husband is on?"

It was Pete's turn to clear his throat and nod, just as uncomfortable as the other suddenly. They didn't use those words. Husband, marriage. Which was probably strange and unhealthy, but Pete supposed it was his fault anyway. He'd been the one to suggest the Vegas shotgun wedding. "Um, Xanax. I have Ambien but I don't use it much. Luvox. Some mood stabilizer I don't take anymore."

Ryan stepped into the room, crawling across the bed and kissing the older boy on the mouth. "Just take care of yourself, promise?" he asked. "I can't take care of you and a baby. And I can't take care of a baby without you."

Pete gave him a soft smile, reaching up to stroke his hair. "It's taken care of, Ry. Don't worry."

They spent the next couple of hours in bed, watching television and finishing the list Pete had started of things they needed to pick up at the store.

---

Ryan couldn't decide if it felt like it had been six months or six days sometimes. In actuality it had only been about seven weeks. He told Pete when he came to Vegas and he had been eight weeks along then. Two days later they'd ended up at one of the twenty-four chapels and Ryan still wasn't sure why he'd gone along with it. Was it for the baby? For Pete? For himself? What had he been thinking? They weren't even dating.

The realization that they knew barely anything about each other came almost immediately when they went to eat afterward and Ryan had to inform Pete he was allergic to mushrooms and so he couldn't try a bite of his entree. It seemed like every day another thing they didn't know about each other was shoved in their faces, a constant reminder that they probably shouldn't have matching wedding bands.

"I'm going to the store for a couple things, Ry." Pete said, coming into the living room and kissing the boy's cheek from behind the couch. "Do you need anything?" He'd gone grocery shopping just two days before, but he had cabin fever and Ryan couldn't blame him.

"Cereal. Like, Honeycomb or Corn Pops or something. And some more hot chocolate." Ryan had been up at midnight every night for the past week. He'd make a mug of cocoa and walk around for a half hour or so. When he opened the door to go onto the balcony Pete would leave his room and keep the boy company. Ryan needed space and so Pete attempted, even if he hated it.

"Do you want juice or soda or anything?"

"Orange juice, yeah. That sounds good." Ryan lifted his hand and fumbled blindly until it touched Pete's cheek. "And some more of those calcium chews. I'm almost out."

Pete planted a light kiss to Ryan's palm. "All right. I'll be back in a bit, babe." There was a heavy silence that only last a moment, like Pete wanted to say something (say it, Ryan knew), but he didn't and then the front door closed. Ryan let out a sigh of relief. He was dreading it, the moment when Pete would say those three words and Ryan wouldn't know what to say back because he refused to lie about something like that. And even if he did love Pete, it was a lie to say it in such a way that went back to being in love.

Hemingway had followed Pete to the door, but returned to sit in front of Ryan and glare at the boy. It was a rather normal routine for animal and human. Hemingway didn't like the boy who had moved into his territory and stolen Pete, didn't understand human things like babies and wedding rings and commitment. He just knew that someone who wasn't Patrick was spending too much time in his house. Pete said Hem would get used to it, but they were still waiting on that.

Ryan stared at the television screen for a few more minutes before getting up and wandering down to the basement to look at the DVD case. He thought maybe it would be nice if he and Pete watched a movie that night. Pete had been really wanting to cuddle lately, but Ryan hadn't been too receptive. He thought maybe if they had a movie on he wouldn't feel quite so smothered. He was going to have to get use to Pete's constant need for affection, just like Pete was attempting to get used to Ryan's need for alone time.

Ryan wasn't used to these adult relationships with the balance of give and take. His last boyfriend had been in high school and then he and Brendon had attempted, but it hadn't worked out. So it had just been the comfortable balance of sex and friendship with Pete, that place where they could get what they needed without having to worry about labels and who else the person was sleeping with. Jealousy never worked well on tour. But now everything had changed. Now he was married. Now he was monogamous. Now he had to play the game.

When Pete got home, Ryan had three DVDs on the dresser in the bedroom next to the television, but he was still sitting on the couch. He'd been ignoring the dog's glare until the front door opened and Hem ran off to greet Pete. The boy stood up and walked over to the kitchen, taking things out of the bags Pete was sitting on the counter. "I just have a few more." Pete said, kissing the boy soft on the mouth. "Be right back."

"I thought you were just getting a few things."

"I'm a consummate over-achiever." Pete said as the door shut behind him.

Ryan picked up a can of chicken noodle soup before realizing he had no idea where it went. He was still staring at it when Pete came back. "Do I live here?" Ryan asked, turning to stare at him.

Pete got a look on his face like he was confused whether or not it was a trick question. ". . . yeah?" he tried, setting the rest of the bags down on the corner.

"Then why the fuck do I not know where anything goes? I have no idea where this goes." He slammed the can down on the corner, causing Hemingway to give a low growl. "I still don't know where the dish soap is or where you keep the disposable razors. I have no idea how your DVDs are arranged, but there's definitely some fucking order to them. I . . . I . . ." He leaned forward, bracing his weight against his arms on the counter and trying not to cry.

Pete reached forward tentatively, his hand resting on the boy's back. "You just moved in, Ry. It's not a big deal. You'll figure it out."

"It's been six weeks." Ryan turned to stare at him, his eyes over-wide to try and fight the tears. He was swallowing against the lump in his throat.

"And we haven't had soup yet. Big fucking deal."

"Easy for you to say." the boy snapped. "It's your house. You live here. Your friends are here. Hardly anything's changed for you. You don't even have to change your sleep schedule. But I have to move and uproot and figure out how to be married while this thing is growing inside of me and my clothes don't even fit the same."

Pete wanted to snap back. He really did. There were a million things he wanted to yell floating around in his head and Ryan could tell that by the look on his face. Instead, he kept his voice low and said the one thing he really shouldn't have. "Look, I get that your hormones are all fucked up, but you don't have to take it out on me."

Ryan slapped him.

Hemingway ran forward, barking, teeth bared and Pete stepped in front of the boy on instinct, kneeling down to stop the dog. "Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay." When the barking didn't cease and the teeth were still showing, Pete's fingers hooked into the dog's collar. "Hem, stop," he ordered in a voice he rarely used on the animal.

Ryan couldn't handle it anymore. He had to get out of the house. He hadn't left since he'd started to show. He grabbed his car keys off the shelf by the door and ran, ignoring the voice calling after him, ignoring the tears on his cheeks. He just needed a break. He needed to get out. He needed to forget that he was married, was pregnant, that he wasn't legally Ryan Ross anymore.

The only problem, he realized, as he took off down the road, was he had no idea where he could go to forget.

---

Pete was sitting up when Ryan got home at three. He was waiting at the doorway when the boy came in and Ryan couldn't place the emotion on his face, like it was too much of a combination to decipher. He was expecting a yell or at least a low, angry voice to come out, but Pete just hugged him. Ryan could feel the bump between them, Pete's stomach against his and he bit his bottom lip because, as confused as he felt about everything, this felt right.

"You scared me." Pete whispered. "God, fuck, Jesus, Ry." He stood up straight, hands tugging at his hair. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? You didn't answer your phone. You could have been in a car wreck and I wouldn't have even . . . I . . ." He put his face in his hands and this time the younger boy initiated the hug.

"I'm sorry." he whispered. And he meant it. "I just . . . I snapped. I just needed to get out for awhile. I didn't mean to scare you." There was a pause. "I'm sorry I hit you, too."

Pete nodded, taking his hands off his face to put them on Ryan's cheeks. "I didn't . . . I didn't mean to blow you off or whatever. Like, saying it was the hormones. I get that this all new and shit." He kissed the boy, soft at first, then deepening it.

Ryan couldn't help but feel that nothing had really been resolved no matter how nice the situation felt as they made their way back to the bedroom. He could tell Pete wanted to have sex and he still didn't want to, but he thought maybe he'd give in just so they wouldn't have to fight again so soon. Ryan wondered if he was always such a pushover or if that was the baby causing a personality change.

But Pete seemed to sense the resistance in the way Ryan's body tensed up when he tried to take off the boy's jeans, so he just let it go. For tonight, at least, he didn't want to push anything. He just wanted to go to sleep. He wanted Ryan to sleep in his bed and if he had to stare at the ceiling all night, that's what he would do. Sacrifices.

When Ryan got up to change into pajamas, Pete grabbed his wrist. "Just . . . stay tonight?" he asked, almost a whisper. "I'll stay in bed or . . . yeah, just. Please?"

Ryan nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah. Okay." He didn't add that he'd have to leave if he couldn't sleep. There was no point in saying it and ruining the way Pete's eyes lit up when he agreed. "Let me go change. I'll be right back."

---

The next day was like nothing had happened. Ryan didn't know if he should be relieved or if he should scream. He did neither. Instead, he settled on something they needed to discuss that Pete would actually do something about. "We have to release a statement or something," the boy said as he pulled a frozen pizza out for lunch. "I mean, we have to say something. Both of us."

"About the pregnancy?"

Ryan winced. He hadn't gotten quite that far. He was hoping, foolishly, that it wouldn't come up. "I just figured it could be vague."

"You don't want to come out. That's it, right?" Pete asked, taking the pizza box and opening it.

"I want to come out on my own terms." he said quickly. Pete was right, but Ryan wouldn't admit it. He had no desire to come out, ever. He didn't want to be a poster child for gay rights, he didn't want to see the negative impact it would have on the band. He didn't want to have to tell people what his sexuality was. He knew the likelihood of staying in the closet forever was next to none, but it didn't have to be today.

Pete sighed, putting the pizza in the oven. "Yeah, all right. What's the rest of your band think?"

"I'm sending them lyrics and they're working on some music, so I think we could just say I'm working on an album. It's been a year and half so . . . it makes sense." Ryan shrugged, then gave a small gasp, his hand flying to his stomach.

Pete dropped the potholder and hurried over, his hands running over the bump as well. "Did it kick? Did the baby kick?"

Ryan blinked hard a few times, his mouth parted slightly. "I-I think so." He looked up at Pete, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. "The doctor said, remember?"

Pete nodded, but he didn't like it. "I know."

"Just a few more weeks, baby." Ryan murmured, shocked by the sudden surge of affection. It wasn't normal for him, but he felt bad. He knew had much Pete wanted this, probably more than him. Pete should have been able to feel it.

"Are you sure you don't want to know if it's a boy or a girl?"

The older hadn't asked in awhile, so Ryan looked slightly shocked at the question, but shook his head. "No, I don't want to know. I still want to be surprised."

"Well, it can really only go one of two ways."

"Don't quote Juno at me, Wentz." Ryan pushed at the older boy, who caught his wrists and leaned in, kissing him on the mouth.

"You're the cheese to my macaroni."

"You're an idiot."

But it was all so nice and Ryan let Pete wrap his arms around him on the couch and lean his head against the younger boy's shoulder while they finished watching the live-action version of Peter Pan they'd started before Ryan's hunger could no longer be ignored.

"It's cool if Patrick comes over later, right?" Pete asked.

"Of course it is," Ryan said softly, smiling, secretly thinking that it would be nice to have Pete's energies focused on someone else for a few hours.

"If you miss Brendon or Spencer or anything you know we can fly them out, right? Or they can drive. Whatever. I'm just saying you can invite them out."

Ryan smiled. "I know. But thank you."

---

"Hey, you okay?" Patrick asked. Ryan was sitting by the pool, his jeans stripped off and his feet in the water, leaning back on his extended arms. The pregnant boy looked up and smiled, a small smile but a genuine one nonetheless.

"I'm good. How's Pete?"

"He managed to spill nacho cheese all over himself so he's taking a shower." Patrick sat down, legs-crossed, next to the boy. "I just thought I'd ask you how things were going, living with Pete, I mean. It's not easy and you kind of got shoved into it." He chuckled softly and took a drink from the soda can he was holding.

"He's just so fucking needy." Ryan admitted, sighing heavily. "Just, all the time. I thought he'd want space, but I guess he gets that when he's not sleeping."

Patrick nodded sympathetically. "He told me you're sleeping in separate rooms." He didn't really wait for an answer before he continued. "You guys are a lot alike, but in different ways. It's hard to explain. I think you'll figure it out though."

Ryan looked at Patrick, really looked at him. He was Pete's best friend, had been for years. He understands Pete. And if he thought Ryan and Pete were alike then maybe he might understand the boy, too. Maybe. He took a deep breath, trying to untangle the words. But instead of saying them, he slipped into the water instead. His shirt stuck to his stomach and he thought he felt the baby flutter, but he could have been mistaken.

Patrick just watched him in silence until the sliding door opened and Pete came out in jeans and no shirt, his chest still wet from his shower and his hair sticking up slightly in the back. It was dark out, the backyard illuminated by the glow of the blue pool lights and Pete looked like some sort of mage with his tattoos and piercing eyes fixed on Ryan's body. "Is chlorine bad for the baby?" he asked in a small voice, like he was embarrassed to even be wondering.

For that reason and that reason alone, Patrick didn't laugh at him. "No, Pete. Hot tubs are."

Ryan turned when he heard the voices and Pete's breathing seemed to hitch in his throat. He looked beautiful in the water, relaxed, his eyes slightly widened when he saw the way Pete was looking at him. "Hi," Ryan choked out, his voice unusually thick.

Patrick bit back his smile, giving Pete a small nod and pushing himself off the concrete, making his way back inside. Ryan didn't know how to react to being alone with his husband and wet up to his chest in the pool. It was obvious in the way he immediately moved toward the edge of the pool, wanting to pull himself out and find a towel. But then there was a splash, chlorinated water droplets landing on Ryan's head, and Pete was in the water.

Ryan turned and Pete was there, reaching his arms out, pulling the boy in close, lips finding each other, tangling together and--for once--Ryan was immediately receptive. It felt right, somehow. Not forced, not rehearsed, not questioning. For the first time, Ryan thought he might actually be able to let himself fall in love with Pete. He couldn't explain why.

It was an ordeal to get Pete out of his wet jeans, one they both laughed at and Ryan didn't feel awkward like he normally would have. He was never the type of person who could laugh at the weird noises during sex or the accidental crash of teeth during a kiss. Ryan did feel awkward in his shirt though, sticking to his belly, when Pete lifted him up slightly in the water, wrapping the boy's legs around his waist and pulling him in for the kiss.

The baby was between them and they could both tell. Ryan wanted to squirm and Pete didn't seem to mind at all, deepening the kiss, letting one of his hands tangle in the boy's chestnut brown hair. "Can we please?" the older asked and Ryan didn't even have to ask what he meant.

"Does it hurt in water?" Ryan asked, mainly concerned because it had been so long combined with no lubricant and knowing how over-eager Pete would be.

"I'll go slow," the older promised. "And we can stop. I just . . ." He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath and Ryan felt bad, so he leaned in and kissed Pete on the mouth.

"We can. Just slow, okay?"

It did hurt. Pete was true to his word, but Ryan couldn't handle it. He wanted to, desperately, and when Pete pulled out the second time, he kissed his husband desperately on the mouth. "Let's just go in. Please? I want to finish." He couldn't believe quite how much he'd missed sex. He'd convinced himself, somehow, that he hadn't, but when he felt it, the skin on skin and breath dancing on his neck . . .

Patrick had left, confirmed by the silence when Pete called out his best friend's name as he and Ryan stumbled inside, wrapped in blankets from the patio furniture. They didn't even make it to the bedroom, just the living room and Ryan wondered why the hell Pete thought it was appropriate to keep lube in the cabinet under the coffee table. The entire house was going to have to be gone over to make sure there was nothing inappropriate a two year old could discover.

But then there were fingers and moans and Ryan forgot all about baby-proofing the living room. Until he started to feel his and Pete's stomach touching too much. "C-Can we . . . umm, on my knees?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He wasn't sure why he couldn't control it, but there were tears threatening to form in the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah." Pete seemed oblivious, pulling out immediately and letting Ryan maneuver to the position, slightly hesitant to offer help lest he make the boy seem like an invalid. Ryan managed perfectly fine however and then Pete knelt up, hands fitting perfectly to the boy's hipbones. He could feel the curve of Ryan's belly against his hands with every thrust. He wasn't exactly sure how to feel about it, but neither of them lasted long enough for the thought to go anywhere else.

"You okay?" Pete asked after, pulling Ryan in to kiss him, run fingers through his hair.

But Ryan seemed to have used up all his desire for human contact by then. He smiled and nodded, but stood up. "I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed. 'Night."

The older man remained on the couch for several minutes, trying to figure out just what exactly had gone wrong before he got up to go fetch their clothes from the pool.

---

Ryan called Spencer the next day, asked him to bring Brendon with him and come to Pete's. Spencer, of course, tried to figure out why, but Ryan just hung up. Pregnancy was at least good for being able to get away with being rude. He could just blame it on the hormones.

Brendon called about an hour later, excitement evident in his voice. "Can we throw you a baby shower while we're there? My mom and I were talking about them. There's this game you can play with melted candy bars and diapers where--"

"Absolutely not." Ryan interrupted before he had to find out exactly what would happen with the candy bars. "I don't want a baby shower."

"Yeah, you're right. It's too early." Brendon agreed, completely misinterpreting what he'd heard. Ryan didn't bother to correct him. "But how long do you want us to stay?"

"I don't know." Ryan sighed, rolling over onto his back and groaning. Pete was doing something that sounded like a hammer against the wall. He had no idea what and he really wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Like a week."

After Brendon got off the phone and the pounding didn't cease, Ryan finally rolled out of bed to go see what was going on. Not so much because he was interested, but because he was interested in making the noise stop. Pete was in one of the guest bedrooms and there was a hammer in his hand, a few nails sticking out of his mouth.

"You're loud." Ryan observed, leaning against the doorframe. "What are you doing?"

Pete turned, pulling the nails out of his mouth. "You were up so, I didn't think it would bother you." But he looked slightly apologetic at least. "I'm hanging up some pictures."

Ryan glanced around the walls. There was a print of some strange painting of what he assumed was a teddy bear, though it looked like it might have stepped out of a Tim Burton movie. A candid of Fall Out Boy and another of Panic. And, finally, the picture Pete hung while Ryan was looking: a picture of them pair of them at the chapel that Spencer had taken with his mom's digital camera.

"Spin never sent me those pictures." Ryan said finally, stepping into the room and pulling the frame off the wall, examining the image. He actually looked happy in the picture, if a bit reserved, a bit uncertain. But he was squeezing both of Pete's hands in his while they exchanged vows.

"I bugged him until he finally sent them to my email. You never asked so . . ."

Ryan bit his lip and hung the frame back up. "Can I . . . Can I be honest for a minute?" His voice was small, soft, worried, shaking. He wouldn't look at Pete.

"You can always be honest with me," the older said, reaching out and tentatively touching Ryan's arm, squeezing it before pulling away.

The boy took a deep breath and moved to the bed in the room, sitting down and putting his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers. "I'm still not sure getting married was the right thing to do." Pete didn't say anything, just sat down next to his husband, reaching out and putting one of his hands on top of Ryan's. The younger boy leaned his head on Pete's shoulder. "I want it to be the right thing though," he added in almost a whisper. "That counts for something, right?"

"I think that counts for everything, Ry." Pete murmured. He kissed the top of the boy's head. "You're not the only one who worries, you know? I do, too."

They sat there like that, silently, comfortably, until Pete's cell phone buzzed in his pocket and the moment was broken. But Ryan felt better and not quite so alone.

---

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Ryan said while Pete was deciding what to order for lunch. "I called Spence and asked him and Brendon to come out for like a week."

"Yeah, I know." Pete grinned. "Bren called me and tried to get me to beg you to let him throw a baby shower. I told him it was pretty short notice to get everyone out here." He didn't seem to mind at all, that Ryan hadn't asked first. In fact, he was surprised it hadn't taken longer. It had been about three months since Ryan had seen any of his bandmates.

Ryan shook his head, no smile on his face, sighing. "I don't want a baby shower."

"Well, it's a little soon."

"I don't want everyone to see me when I'm fat and . . . waddling. Like a fucking duck." Ryan grimaced. "I don't even want you to see me like that."

Pete gave him a small smile. "We don't have to have one. But just . . . wait. Maybe you'll change your mind. And you're a pretty duck, Ry."

"You're a pretty duck," Ryan muttered, but his heart wasn't in it.

---

"I brought you insoles for your shoes!" Those were the first words Ryan heard from Brendon's mouth when he entered the house. "My mom says they're good for your feet when you get bigger." He was so gleeful and his smile was so big that Ryan couldn't even get offended by the second statement. He just laughed and pulled the boy in for a hug, one that Pete watched silently. Then Ryan hugged Spencer, tighter than he'd hugged Brendon, smiling inwardly when he felt the baby flutter.

"I'm so glad you guys are here."

Pete bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep it all inside, trying to ignore the fact that this was the happiest he'd seen Ryan in at least a month, including when he had his last sonogram.

"Pete!" Brendon was excited in general, it seemed, tripping over the bag he dropped on the ground to pounce on the older man, hugging him and grinning. "Hi."

That smile was infectious, even if the one Pete returned only matched it about halfway. "Hey. Was your drive okay?"

Spencer and Ryan were talking quietly in half sentences, the way best friends could, that hidden language no one else seemed to understand, almost like twins. Spencer's mom said that the boys used to share nightmares when they were in elementary school.

"Drive was great. Pretty easy traffic." Spencer said, interrupting the conversation. "Thanks for letting us crash."

Pete shrugged. "No need to thank me. Ryan's house, too."

The boy actually gave a small smile at that, letting his hand rest on his stomach for a moment. Spencer had no real way of knowing that was a rather unusual occurrence, but somehow he seemed to know all the same. "Try a little harder," he whispered in Ryan's ear before crossing the room to give Pete a one-armed hug. "So you guys setting up a nursery yet, or what?"

"Not yet." Pete said. "We'll do sleeping stuff later though." He only realized at that moment that he and Ryan hadn't discussed it and there were only two guest rooms, one of which was the room Ryan was currently sleeping in.

"I'm starving," Ryan announced to the room at large. "So someone needs to feed me."

"And the baby!" Brendon added in his not-so-dulcet tones.

Pete winced. He knew the boy hated comments like that. 'I don't need to be reminded,' the boy would say, 'I'm fully aware.' But Brendon could get away with those comments apparently because Ryan bit back anything he wanted to say. Pete wasn't sure how he felt about that.

But he bit his own words back just like Ryan and suggested ordering pizzas, an idea that Brendon pounced on.

---

"How come you sent Pete the pictures but you didn't send them to me?" Ryan asked. They were in the room Pete had been hanging pictures in earlier, the one Spencer was staying in that would later be turned into the nursery. He and Pete had decided in hushed tones that Ryan would attempt to stay in the master bedroom, but would share with Spencer if it didn't work. Brendon wanted Ryan's room because it had a bathtub.

"You never asked me," Spencer replied, now pulling the pictures up on his laptop to show his best friend. "I didn't know if you wanted them."

"It's my wedding, isn't it?"

"I didn't know if you wanted that either."

Ryan didn't say anything, just pulled the laptop closer to him and started skimming through the photographs. A lot of them were the same thing, just taken a few seconds apart. Ryan couldn't find himself looking like a person who was through the roof happy with the situation, but he didn't look upset in any of them either. Toward the end of the night it was obvious he was getting a little strained, but his smile was still on. Pete looked over the moon, in contrast.

"This one's my favorite." Ryan said, eventually, pointing out a photograph where he and Pete were holding out their hands to show the rings the older had picked out that day. Ryan's long, too-skinny arm looked so strange next to his counterpart's inked one, but there was something sort of beautiful about it, too.

"That's a good one." Spencer agreed. "I like the one where Brendon threw rice in your hair and you gave him the death glare, personally."

Ryan shifted, reaching for the glass of orange juice he'd set on the nightstand. "Husband's a weird word."

"Especially when you're twenty."

"You'd tell me if you thought I was making a mistake, wouldn't you, Spin?" Ryan turned his eyes to his best friend, softly accusing him.

The younger boy hesitated, crossing and uncrossing his legs, closing the window on the computer, biting his bottom lip. "I don't think it's a mistake, necessarily. If anyone can make it work, y'know, it's you and Pete. It was just . . . quick. I mean, you told me two days before you were pregnant and then you call me and tell me to pick up Brendon because you need witnesses to your wedding."

"He was so happy. He cried when he asked, like tears in his eyes and shit." Ryan laughed, almost cynically. "We don't even sleep in the same room."

"Not all couples do."

"I don't know where the soup goes."

"Buy a labelmaker."

Ryan sighed, putting his glass back down and leaning his head on Spencer's shoulder, so thankful for some things not changing. He heard Brendon's voice ringing from down the hallway and laughed outright.

"Dude, I will so school your ass in Mario Kart."

"Bring it, Urie." Pete replied.

Spencer laughed, too. "Too bad those two didn't get married, huh?" It was a joke, but it reminded Ryan of what Patrick had said the week before by the pool.

"Do you think me and Pete are alike at all?" he asked, not lifting his head, but turning his eyes to Spence. It almost looked romantic, but wasn't in the slightest.

"Yeah, you are." Spencer nodded, opening up his email. "You're both writers and not talkers. You like to use metaphors and you don't like to say what's up. You're both really weird, too."

Ryan sat up then, laughing and pushing at his best friend. "Gee, thanks, asshole." But he filed those statements away in his brain silently, to dissect later when he had a few minutes to himself and a pen in his hand.

---

"You really missed them, huh?" Pete asked in bed that night. Ryan was tired, but he wanted to finish watching the end of the cop show they'd put on for background noise and he'd ended up getting thoroughly involved in. It was a commercial though, so it was okay to speak.

Ryan shifted against the pillow he was leaning against, turning his head to look at the boy next to him. He nodded. "Yeah. It's . . . it's different being away from them. I've never been away from Spin longer than two weeks, really."

"We could get an apartment in Vegas."

The boy shook his head. "No. I don't . . . I just. I want to try." Ryan turned back to the television. "It's hard, but I don't think being around them all the time is going to help me get used to this."

Pete reached out, the back of his hand gently stroking the side of Ryan's face. "I know you don't want me to say this, but I love you." He watched the younger boy close in on himself slightly, shoulders tensing up, teeth clenching. "I don't want to think I expect you to say it back. I can be patient when I have to." He nodded, leaning in and kissing Ryan softly on the corner of his mouth. "I just want you to know that. I'll give you everything I can, Ry. I just want to help."

There was a quick nod and perhaps the amber eyes blinked one too many times, but Pete didn't comment. He understood and he went back to looking at cribs online while Ryan waited for the commercial break to end. That night Pete actually slept, his fingers splayed across Ryan's stomach.