Wishbones

Morgue rolled his eyes lightly as he peeked his head into Trever's special room.
"Hey, we're here." He nodded.

"I realize." Trever already had gloves on, unaware that Finn had not been informed of their reason for being here. "Where is he at?"

Morgue glanced back at Finn in the hall, moving towards Trever to whisper softly.
"I think he might be pregnant. Don't let him know if he is. At least not right away. Please." Morgue's voice was pleading. he knew his lover would not want a child. And he would need a while to come up with reasons for the man to keep their baby.

Trever's eyes immediately flickered up to Finn, shifting to Morgue moments later. "Whatever you want...But I really don't think it matters. You know as well as I do he wont want it." Finn had always been decided on not having children. He had gone through hell as a child and had no desire to bring another one into the world just to be thrown away.

"I know." Morgue sighed. "I'm hoping he's not, but in case he is, I just need some time to come up with a way to persuade him." He nodded his head. "Finn come in here!" He caled, just waiting for the boy to curse him out.

And he did, in his loud menacing way, he cursed Morgue with every step he took. Once he had gotten inside, Trever asked him to sit on his work table. He had learned long ago to never touch the boy if it was not Finn's will.
"What do you f*cktards want." He laid back on the metal surface, watching closely as Trever neared him.
"Imma check you out, see just how sick you are." A pause. "I need to touch your chest and stomach."
Finn, strangely enough, didn't bother arguing. He wanted to get better, he hated being sick.
He hated everything.

Morgue was quite relieved the boy did not argue. He simply watched, nervously picking at his fingernails, a habit he had.

Trever was gentle with the boy, pressing around his abdomen, listening with his ears. He had Finn tell him all the symptoms he had been having, and even took a urine sample from the boy.
"Seems like you have the flu." Trever stepped around, picking up a small bottle of pills. They were sugar pills, but he made sure to tell Finn they were medically capable of making him better.

Morgue paid close attention to Trever, trying to tell if the man was lying to Finn or if he really did have just the flu. He hoped it was the latter. But it was always hard to tell if Trever was lying or not So he simply waited, waiting for Trever to tell him later when Finn was not around.

Trever sent Finn off to take a couple of the pills. As the boy's footfalls faded away, the man tilted his head to Morgue.
"He's a month into it." It was that simple for him.

"Great." Morgue sighed, running a hand through his long blonde hair. "Any suggestions on how to tell him?"

"Don't." Trever leaned against his work table. "Let me abort it." Finn would want that, he would rather die than mother a child.

"I don't want it aborted, Trever." Morgue shook his head. "That's the problem."

"Ohhh...Good luck." Trever shook his head, amusement clear on his face. He had known the couple long enough to know that Morgue was f*cked.

"I appreciate your confidence in me." Morgue rolled his eyes sarcastically as he moved to find Finn.

"I just know Finn!" Trever rubbed the back of his neck, worrying a bit for Morgue. He would hate for him to lose the kid, but he just did not see Finn being okay with it. "How will you tell him?"

"I'm going to tell him and then beg." Morgue sighed. It wasn't much of a plan but it was all he had.

Trever patted the blonde on the back, sympathy written across his face. "He'll hate it." He wanted them to be happy, and maybe save Morgue some heart ache.

"I know." Morgue sighed. "But I can't give up without trying." He nodded. "Wish me luck." And with that, he went to find Finn.

Finn had curled himself onto the couch, not even bothering to find and torment Toni. He felt completely miserable, and he was coiled, ready to strike.
"F*ck off Jeremy." Finn heard the man coming, his teeth bared as if to threaten him.

"Calm down, darling." Morgue sighed, taking a seat beside his lover on the couch.

Finn slowly warmed up to the man, going as far as resting his head in Morgue's lap. He did not feel well, this was apparent. It made him hateful, helpless. He wanted to beat the colds ass, but all he could do was lay and feel miserable.

"So..." Morgue spoke softly, stroking Finn's hair gently. "Trever says you might not have the flu after all."

"Must be f*cking dying then." The boy flipped onto his side as if convinced that was the only other conclusion. "Oh well. And don't f*cking let Mathias have me f*cking cremated."

"Not exactly, darling. There's something else wrong." Morgue frowned lightly.