“my back hurts,” chanyeol whines, jabbing jongin in the side as they lounge on their plush living room couch, the super bowl semi-finals flashing on their flat screen lcd tv mounted on the wall, surrounded by the most advanced, high-tech surround sound system money can possibly buy.

not that it’s something they can afford, but jongin really, really wanted it (needed it). and what jongin wants, jongin gets.

ugh.

“seriously,” chanyeol continues, head rolling onto his shoulder with a grimace and shoving jongin’s shoulder for no other reason than that his lower back is fucking killing him right now. “i’m in pain. do something.”

tearing his gaze away from the game, jongin noisily exhales an irritated puff of air through his nose, stomping his feet hard onto the wooden floors as he hauls himself up. “can you please just not be a little bitch for like one minute,” he begs, hands clasped together in front of him. “please, let me just finish the game.”

if humans could breathe fire, chanyeol would definitely be spitting molten lava all over as he pushes himself off the couch, unbalanced legs wobbling beneath the heavy weight of his nearly up to term pregnant belly.

“excuse me?” chanyeol’s eyes narrow into slits as he steps up close to jongin, or as close as his protruding stomach will allow, and shoves a finger into jongin’s chest.

seeing the menacing glint in chanyeol’s eyes, jongin wisely remains silent, little too late realizing the terrible mistake he’s just made.

jongin is treading dangerous waters right now, and he needs to take every step with extreme caution.

“what did you just say to me?“ chanyeol fumes, hands now pressed against his back to prop up his spine against the gravitational force pulling down his belly towards the ground. "my ankles are bloated, i’m hormonal, i need to fucking pee every half hour. i crave weird, nasty shit that i can’t even keep down half the time,” his words seethe in an angry flow of uninterrupted complaints, the tip of his huge belly nudging against jongin’s stomach with every emphasis.

“i’m sorry, baby,” jongin tries to placate, slowly bringing up his hands to cup chanyeol’s neck to rub soothing circles in the sensitive spot just below his jaws. but chanyeol swats his hands away.

“i think i’m allowed a little bit of bitchy attitude every once in awhile, thank you very much, you dickwad,” he bites back without remorse, ready to poke another well-placed shove against jongin’s chest when his stomach suddenly seizes up, a sharp crack of pain rolling down the entire length of his spine.

“oh my god, are you okay?!” jongin shouts, flustered hands floating above chanyeol’s hunched frame as the air leaves his lungs in a whoosh. “chanyeol, baby, oh my god say something!”

“i think i’m having contractions,” chanyeol grits through his teeth, trying to concentrate on the breathing exercises he had picked up from their weekly lamaze classes.

conscious breathing, mindful breathing.

deep long breaths.

breathe in, breathe out.

“what?” jongin stares blankly at chanyeol’s contorted face, body frozen into paralysis.

shit this hurts.

fuck lamaze.

“i’m going into labor!” chanyeol shrieks, giving up and panting for air as he fists a handful of jongin’s t-shirt and shakes him to snap him out of his internal mental crisis.

“get my bags!” chanyeol commands, still clutching onto the collar of jongin’s shirt. “get the car! do something!”

jongin finally snaps out of it, blinking his eyes hard before finally jumping into action, running pell-mell up into their room to grab the duffle bag chanyeol had prepared weeks in advance.

“right,” jongin skids to a halt beside chanyeol’s gasping frame, one hand planted on the sofa and the other clutching the stitch forming on his side. “come on, let’s go,” jongin gently pulls chanyeol’s arm over his shoulder, helping transfer most of chanyeol’s weight onto jongin’s side.

“ah fuck, this hurts,” chanyeol whimpers as another shock of tremors travels down his spine, tummy clenching painfully like solid rock.

“it’s okay, you’ll be fine,” jongin soothes, placing a soft kiss on chanyeol’s temple, half hauling chanyeol’s body out to the garage and carefully placing the elder into the passenger seat of his car.

“shit i think my water just broke,” chanyeol moans as jongin backs out of the garage. and that’s all the encouragement jongin needs before he’s tearing down the roads toward their family hospital.

little beads of sweat are collecting around chanyeol’s forehead, sliding down his face as he continues to pant, another jolt of pain rocking down his spine. “ah fuck,” chanyeol whimpers again, sliding down the leather seats, squirming around to find a more comfortable position. but nothing helps.

as the hospital looms near, the wailing sound of sirens break through the haze of pain clouding chanyeol’s consciousness.

“we’re here,” jongin breathes, rushing out and around to the passenger’s side, the siren getting even louder.

“what the fuck?” chanyeol wheezes, the wailing noise echoing so loud in his ears, it’s all he can hear.

”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“oh what the fuck!” chanyeol gasps, shooting up from the bed with cold sweat clinging to his hairline. in an absolute state of terror and total confusion, he quickly slams his hand down on the alarm clock, shutting it off before groping around the darkness, hands clutching at his own body, his stomach, to make sure that everything had just been a dream.

breathing rough and hard, chanyeol continues to examine himself, shaking fingers touching here and there, still disoriented as to what is real and what is not.

after thoroughly probing himself and satisfied with the conclusion that, yes it had all been a dream thank god he forgot it was a weekend and set his alarm clock anyway and it had woken him up before the nightmare could get even more out of hand, chanyeol flops back down onto the mattress with a huff, jongin curling into his side and snuggling closer.

“nightmare?” jongin’s voice is deep and husky with sleep, chanyeol turning onto his side to wrap his arms around the younger’s shoulders.

“yeah,” he replies, tucking his chin above jongin’s hair and nestling more comfortably into the pillow. “it was crazy. maybe i’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

“okay,” comes jongin’s sleepy response, already halfway gone to unconsciousness.

and listening to the light hum of jongin’s breath and the steady rhythm of his heart, chanyeol allows himself to be lulled back into sleep, his previous dream slipping away from his memory like water cupped with two palms, draining away until there is nothing left to remember by the time they wake up.