Bobby grunted and pressed a hand to his stomach. "Ow," he hissed.

Sam looked at him in alarm. "You all right?"

"Yeah. Feels like it's kicking again, that's all. It's weird."

Sam calmed. "Alright. Good. Scared me for a minute there. Thought you were going into labor, maybe."

"I'm not gonna go into labor. We're only six months along!"

"Yeah? Two days ago we weren't even- you know!" Sam cringed.

"What, pregnant? Come on, you can say it. Pregnant. Preeeegnaaant." Bobby shifted into a more comfortable position on the rec room's couch. " I feel like I've gotta pee again. Is it normal to have to pee so much? We should ask somebody."

"There is nothing normal about this, Bobby."

"You know what I mean. Who could we ask, though? Oh! We should call your mom!"

"What?!"

"Well, she's had twelve kids, she'd know all about it-"

"Ten, and we are not calling my mother!"

"Why not?"

"It might make her a bit suspicious if I call up and start asking questions about pregnancy, that's why. I don't want her knowing I'm-" Sam spluttered for a moment "-in a family way. And how the hell are you so calm about this, anyway?"

Before replying, Bobby swallowed a mouthful of ice cream and pickles - a combination which, oddly enough, he liked before getting knocked up. "Easy. Unlike you, I am an only child. My mom wants grandbabies so bad she's not gonna care where they come from. " Another spoonful of ice cream. "But more importantly, I have complete faith in Hank, and he said whatever this is should wear off in a couple more days."

Sam's reply was cut off as his brother Jay ran into the room, eyes widening when he saw Sam and Bobby. "Holy shit! It's true?"

"Watch your language, I'm in a delicate condition here," Bobby chastised.

Sam facepalmed. "Jay, what are you doing in here?"

"I had to know if you were really knocked up. The whole school's been talking about it-"

"-and there goes my last shred of masculinity," Bobby grunted.

"-and I had to see for myself." Jay's eyes darted from Sam's stomach to Bobby's and back again. "So, this is an X-Man thing, right? Not a Guthrie thing?"

"How the hell'd you hear about this? And what do you mean, a 'Guthrie thing?'"

"I told you, it's all over school. Wolverine nearly gutted Pixie when she told him he shouldn't be drinking beer in his condition, and there's a pool going on whether Mr. Summers' kid is gonna be a messiah or a clone or what. And you know-" Jay shrugged, "-a Guthrie thing. We're from a family of super-breeders, and you toss mutations into the mix- I just wanna make sure I don't wind up with a magical butt-baby, too."

"It is not a 'magical butt-baby'-" Sam scowled over Bobby's laughter "-it's a bizarre scientific phenomenon-"

"-caused by exposure to some freaky villain's 'man-pregnant' powers," Bobby supplied-

"-and Hank is working to fix it as we speak!" Sam said, ignoring the interruption.

"Alright! Geez." Jay backed out of the room with a smirk. "Won't bother asking if I can be godfather, then."

"Get outta here!" Sam yelled, struggling to get off the sofa in order to smack his brother. Jay's laughter rang he ran down the hall.

"And don't tell Mom!" Sam yelled after him, sinking back onto the couch. "Jerk. I hate him. I hate super-villains. I hate my life."

"Aw, c'mon. That's just the hormones talking. Have some ice cream!" Bobby proffered a spoonful of the pickle-dairy concoction.

"Your ice cream's disgusting and I hate you, too!"

"Fine! See if I throw you a baby shower!"

Sam placed a pillow over his face and attempted to smother himself. "I need a vacation."

"Maternity leave, at least," Bobby agreed.