Even gay dads have pregnancy pains.
Matteo and Gabe have everything they could ever want out of life, except for a family all their own. When Gabe's twin sister offers to be their surrogate, it's a dream come true until she insists they be completely involved in the pregnancy. The new dads quickly realize they may have bitten off more than they can chew.
The phone call came at four in the morning, but as prepared as Gabe and Matteo let themselves think they were, those two little words sent them both into a whirlwind of emotions. Not to mention excitement and oh-my-fucking-Gods.
Two little words that in any other context would be confusing, misunderstood or at least be followed up with more information. It was almost like a secret code that only Gabe and Matteo had access to-a ninja-spy-007 kind of secret. All the pertinent information was actually written down on a yellow sticky-note on the bedside table by Gabe's side of the bed. They'd haggled over which side it should be on, only deciding Gabe's side was the less cluttered of the two since Matteo had books, papers, breath mints, an e-reader, ancient un-used condoms, and lube on his side.
When Gabe rolled over to grab the oh-so-important piece of paper, Matteo let out a tiny huff of displeasure. He still thought it was unfair that his side had been penalized for something they both used together, and was it really fair to hold his clutterbugishness against him when he lived with Mr. Goddamn Clean? Of course, in the grand scheme of things...
Matteo reared up in bed. "Oh my fucking God! It's time!"
With yellow sticky-note in hand, they both jumped out of the bed, babbling semi-coherently while they hastily dressed.
"Isn't it too early?"
"Babies don't generally check their watches before being born, Gabe. Um... I think that's my underwear you're trying to squeeze into."
"Shit. No wonder I can't get them past my thigh. You know that's not what I meant. Her due date isn't for a few weeks. Have you seen my other sock?"
"I don't think it's all that unusual considering the circumstances. Isn't it with the rest of your carefully folded clothes?" Matteo snickered at Gabe's glare.
"Zip it, Matty. I'm so fucking nervous you'd think I was the one giving birth."
Matteo tossed a few t-shirts from his drawer. "What exactly does one wear on such an occasion anyhow? I'd like to see that, by the way."
"You giving birth."
"You're right, totally ewww."
"Do you have the keys? Shit, where's my jacket?"
"No. Thought you had them since it's your family-mobile."
"It's our family mobile. I mean SUV. Aren't you going to put on a jacket?"
"So not. That thing is all yours, Gabe. Can you grab my hoodie off the hook?"
"Huh. Remember that when that piece of crap of yours dies."
"My Firebird is not a piece of crap."
"Maybe not in the eighties when it was made."
"Shut it! It's a classic, man."
"I can't believe it's time. I'm so nervous. Why don't you look even a little bit nervous, Matty?"
"I've got you to do it for me. Daddies. Who would have thought?"
"I love you."
"Love you back. Now step on it. We're gonna be fucking daddies."
"We're gonna be daddies."