“Mini, why you gotta be a little bitch, now I have to fuck Anthony in the asshole-”
“He straight up raw-dogged me too.”
“You gonna get pregnant, biiiitch!”
Right now, the whole fucking world and everything inside of it decided to revolve around that word, as Anthony Brown, otherwise known as ‘BigJigglyPanda’, sat in the PAX East bathrooms, clutching his stomach as he tried not to freak out.
That was the last thing he needed right now.
It was all Mini’s fault. He could blame this on him, solely, though it was really his and Marcel’s.
It was Craig and Tyler who brought the drinks though, so they had some fault in this.
He couldn’t really remember everything that happened at PAX West last year, but he remembered enough that they had gotten drunk on one of their last nights there and he woke up in the late morning before their panel with his ass hurting and Marcel curled around his side.
Neither was a good sign to wake up to, in both their minds. Marcel was married to Simone and Anthony was no homewrecker. They would just be the friends they always were and two days later, they swore to forget the whole thing as they parted to their separate planes.
Well, Anthony was /supposed/ to forget at least.
But, 3 months after PAX ended, shit hit the fan rather quickly.
Anthony was exhausted for days on end once PAX ended, that was normal, but he hadn’t been starving before. Or ill, as he felt like he was. It was extended as well, which further fueled the fire of suspicion in Anthony’s mind that something was not right with him.
Did he catch something from PAX, maybe? A bug or so? The flu, even?
Well, no, it seemed. He had done videos with the guys and none of them mentioned anything about being sick, so that was quite out of the question.
It ate away at him for several days, before he finally had the balls to go and see his GP, after the throwing up still didn’t cease (that and Tyler had remarked he sounded like shit during a Cards Against Humanity video).
It had clicked by the time he was told he was pregnant and saw the little guy for the first time though. Didn’t stop his panic attack from coming on when he got home though.
He slid down the wall with a squeak, breathing harsh as he hid his head in his hands, trying to get this brain to work again and think what to do now.
He was shot back into the present when another cramp folded itself over him, making his hands grip the wall in vain and his feet and shoes grind into the ground as he moaned.
God, it hurt. The whole thing had sucked, the whole last 6 months sucked bad and now to top it all off, here he was, in labor at PAX East of all fucking places to be.
He knew he shouldn't have been here, shouldn’t even have been on a plane even, shouldn’t have left Ohio. but here he was, in the middle of Boston and he had no way out.
At least, not in the time this baby was trying to be born in at least.
Sweat dripping down his face, he looked down, breathing through his nose.
It was huge, the bump was huge. He knew this. Unlike everyone else.
To others, it just looked like a beer or food belly, like he had eaten too much.
He had played it off like that too, for the last 6 months, when one of his friends mentioned it.
(Fucking John and Smii7y even both decided to shout “Wide load comin’ though!’ everytime he fucking moved, so that /really/ didn’t help his emotions or his wish of concealing it.)
The doctors had told him there was no way he wasn’t having a C-Section.
That looked extremely fucking unlikely now, considering he was an idiot and didn’t listen when he was told to stay put. He thought, despite being pretty much 9 months pregnant at this point, to come and see his friends in person, even if they gave him flack about his much doughier appearance since the last time.
Plus, he couldn’t let the fans down. He never missed a PAX since becoming a YouTuber. Their disappointment would hurt him more than most things he was currently dealing with.
Well, until right now that is.
“God…” He groaned, closed eyes watering as he aggressively wiped them with a sleeve of his shirt as what he assumed was a ‘real’ contraction calmed down. “I should have just fucking stayed home. I should have just stayed in Ohio. God, fuck me. Fuck!”
While he could have continued on with this string of hard curse words and self pity, his thoughts and current situation were interrupted by the doors of the toilet opening and a set of shoes making their way down the halls.
“Yo, Anthony, my man, you in here?”
Marcel. Jesus, fuck. He couldn’t let him see him like this.
Swallowing, Anthony just stayed silent, thankful that most of the toilet doors were closed.
“Yo, Anthony! Come on, man! We’ve got a panel in like, 20 minutes! Where the hell are you, dude?!”
As he said that, another contraction rolled over him and he moaned out loud despite trying to clamp it down, having to lower his head down into his arms, which now rested on the toilet paper dispenser.
It took all his willpower not to flinch at the squeaking sound of the rubber from Marcel’s sneakers doing a quick 180 and pretty much flying to his cubicle, knocking hurriedly on the door.
“Anthony, you in there?! I know that was you. Are you okay, man?”
Anthony really wanted to respond and tell Marcel, though his teeth, he was fine and would be out in a moment, but all that came out of him was another pain filled groan, this time with a long sound at the end that Anthony /swore/ was not a whimper of all things as he felt slick oil like wetness between his legs.
If he hadn’t been sitting on the toilet like he was, he would have presumed it was piss.
He knew it was more than likely his water finally breaking. Great.
Of course, this new fact didn’t stop the pain. Or Marcel for that matter.
For as soon as the pain came back, stronger than ever and leaving Anthony completely breathless and shaking like a dog who had been kicked by it’s master, Marcel was trying to physically rip the cubicle door open.
“Anthony! Anthony, come on, let me in, man! Let me the hell in!”
He didn’t know how he managed to do it, but he gave in to Marcel’s wishes, the pain holding him in an almost vice grip as he unlocked the bolt to the door, Marcel pretty much yanking it open afterwards.
He must look a mess, he realized, as he just sat there, bunched over. Jeans and underwear down to his calves and bright red and sweaty all over from everything. He finally registered Marcel trying to lift his face up, before attempting to physically get him up by the arms, mumbling something about ‘hospital’ and ‘blood’.
However, this act didn’t last long as no sooner was Marcel trying to get him to stand, another contraction, worse still than its predecessor, made him fall back down with a cry, head and back hunched over almost he was almost curling in on himself as the pressure on his spine and in his stomach moved again, this time more painful than before.
“God, I can’t- I can’t-”
“Anthony. Anthony, open your eyes, open your eyes and try to look at me.”
He had forgotten that Marcel was in the room and forced his eyes to peel open despite the pain and his fears, finding Marcel on his knees in front of him, looking panicked.
“Hey, hey, stay with me, Stay with me, okay?” Marcel kept his hands on his knees and arm, like he was trying to shake him awake. “Stay with me, alright? There’s an ambulance on the way, everything is going to be-”
“God, shut the fuck up!” Anthony couldn’t help but yell as fire consumed his bottom parts and his eyes squeezed shut again. “Make it stop, ohhh, make it stop…”
He barely felt Marcel’s hands on him anymore, trying to check him over, the insistent urge to get this baby out of him right the fuck now too much to ignore now.
Hunching over, he barely heard Marcel yelling his name as he shoved him away and tried to push, hands having come to grip his thighs tightly as he bore down.
He was so concentrated that he barely heard the other man trying to talk to him, feeling a hand now on his back and another trying to sit him back up. He resisted, at first, but soon became tired enough to let Marcel manhandle him, gasping for air as his chest worked to bring it in. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
Unlike before, there was now silence, which scared Anthony more than before when Marcel had been talking non-stop and he dared to open an eye and look up, only to find his friend white as a sheet and mouth agape.
He was going to question why he was like that, till of course, another pain washed over him and he felt the ring of fire start back up again, making him cry out as he fell forward from Marcel’s grasp, thankfully managing to stop himself before he pitched forward completely, feeling the fire burn more before it fell with a silent pop, his body shaking again with pain.
He tried to push himself up again, but the pain had wore him out and he felt himself slipping, but he was suddenly pulled up, his head resting against another as the pain pulled at him again, feeling hands reaching to pull his legs apart a little, feeling knuckles against his thighs.
“Almost- Almost there, Tony. You're almost there.” He suddenly heard Marcel’s voice, much gentler than before. “The head’s- the head’s out, just got a little more to go, buddy. Keep going. You can do it.”
Anthony, of course, should have cared that Marcel was talking to him and this was happening or oh, god, now he knows everything, but instead he just whimpered. “I can’t, I can’t, please I can’t…”
“You can. You can and you will. I know you can. You have to.”
“I can’t- god, I just want it out!” He cried, though falling into what Marcel said to do and give into pushing against him, feeling his whole body stretching like it was breaking in two halves at this point, his hands burying their grip into Marcel’s shirt fabric on his shoulders as he bore down, just wanting it to be over and done with.
Finally, after Marcel chanting ‘One more buddy, one more!’, his baby finally fell out of him with a slick sound and into Marcel’s arms, a tiny foot kicking him in the thigh before he heard a loud screeching noise, making him open his eyes as he was handed the red, squirmed bundle of anger that was 9 months in the making.
She was covered in blood, her head was misshapen, she felt like an anchor, but oh, she was beautiful. She seemed to have managed to become just the right mixed shade of brown and her hair was obviously going to be curly, judging with the brown whorls in the top of her head as he kissed it, her cries waning slightly, but no less breathy.
He didn’t care in the slightest. She could cry all she wanted in his books.
He hoped she didn’t care he cried with her, or laughed at her just from shock alone.
“Oh my god…”
“Oh my god is right.” He felt Marcel drape himself over the top of him, finally registering voices outside the bathroom as he watched Marcel’s hand reach out to touch her tiny chest, her violent looking breaths from her snorting cries making it fall up and down rapidly.
“Jesus Christ, Tony, why didn’t you say anything?”
“You said to-” Anthony wheezed, trying to get out what he wanted to say, but Marcel suddenly shushed him. “It’s okay, you can explain later, when you are both okay.”
Anthony was rather grateful for that, as he was zoning out here and there, thankfully allowing Marcel to take the little girl once the paramedics finally pushed their way though the PAX crowds most likely outside the bathroom and cut her cord, severing her from him so he could be transported to hospital.
“Don’t take her, please. Please don’t-” He called out weakly despite himself, feeling faint as he struggled to look around to see if his baby was okay. When had she stopped crying?
Before he finally faded out into darkness, he felt someone grab his hand and grip it tightly.
“We’re right here Tony, I promise, we’re right here...”