Author's Note: Why did I write this? Jesus. I need Jesus. Or a chicken nugget. Or something.

I can't put my thoughts to it, but something was...different about my brother. He was standing there, being Canadian as usual, buuuut there was something else. Something more. I stared, unable to help it, at his swollen stomach. Either he's been eating a shit-ton more, (and he better tell me where all this food is coming from), or one of my many fears have came true; Matthew swallowed a watermelon seed, and there is one growing inside his stomach right at this moment.

"Mattie," I began very slowly, my throat growing thick. "Did you...eat any watermelons recently?"

My brother snapped his head in my direction, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "No. Why would you ask that?" One of his hands clamped onto his stomach, and his eyes widened. "Because it looks like it?! Alfred, don't be rude."

"What? I'm not!" I whined. He made a light noise of disgust and turned his face away. "You're huge!"

"Al! Can't you be more tactful for once in your life?"

I thought I was! "Um...you put on some weight."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Not much better."

I felt my mouth pull down. Giving his tummy a quick jab, I noted, "You're more grumpier than usual."

He hit my hand away. Really hard. Ouch. He curled his other arm around himself, "That's what happens when you are pregnant!"

Wait what. "Huh? What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

Laughter burst from my mouth. Matthew flinched, not finding humor in his words like I did. How did he manage a straight face like that?! "Whew! Okay, Mattie!" I wiped at tears threatening to spill, inwardly wishing I had that stoic capability. "You know, if you were hungry enough to eat a whole watermelon, I have no room to judge-"

"I'm being serious!" Matthew's voice crackled with its raised volume.

I held up my hands against his not-so-polite Canadian scorn. "All right, all right. I don't know what you heard, but dudes can't get preggers. You're a dude. So, you aren't pregnant."

"Sure, Al. Tell that to the baby inside my stomach."

I leaned in, staring at the fabric stretching over my brother's abdomen. "Um, baby, infant thing, you can't be here. It's scientifically impossible."

Matthew punched my head. Hard. My glasses went askew. Did he actually lift in his spare time? "I was being sarcastic! Don't put an existential crisis on my child before he's even out!"

"Ow, ow!" I yelped, grabbing the offended area with one hand, and fixing my glasses with the other. "Why didn't you say so, bro?"

"You're an idiot!"

I like to call it selective intelligence; after all, no one can be smart 24/7. They would need snack breaks! "Come on," I pleaded, but my brother only gave me a side glare. I decided to change the subject. "How?"

"Hmm?" Matthew glanced in my direction. "How what?"

"How did you...you know," I limply gestured to his stomach, "get like that."

Matthew blankly stared. "I swallowed a watermelon seed."

I gasped. "No way! I knew it! Mattie, I told you not to eat the black ones!"

"No!" He snapped, his foot stomp louder than his words, "I got pregnant the same way everyone else did! I think..."

"What do you mean you think? You don't...remember getting pregnant?"

My brother looked as puzzled as I felt. "It was rather unclear."

"You said the same way everyone else did," I pointed out. He nodded, but before he said anything, I blurted, "By a stork!"

"What?"

"A stork!"

"Al, storks bring the parents their baby. How can a stork bring me my baby, if it's still inside me?"

...Shit! He got me there! Yet I couldn't let him see that; I'd look uncool! I cackled, "A stork got you pregnant!"

Matthew took a step back, appearing to be horrified. Unless the baby kicked really hard at that moment. "Al! No! I don't...no storks!"

"Yeah, they're probably busy anyway," I persuaded myself. "How else could you gotten like this?"

"I'm more worried about how I'm going to get the baby out, actually..."

"If you didn't swallow a watermelon seed, and there's no stork scandal involved, and you don't remember, how did you get pregnant?" I gasped, "Maybe the dad knows!"

"I am the dad," Matthew pointed out.

"Dude, no. Dad's don't have babies in their stomachs. You're a mom, Mattie."

"Am not!"

"Are too!" I stuck my tongue out. My brother opened his mouth to retort, when a body fell out of the ceiling that was above us. Since when was there a ceiling? Does that mean we are indoors, or still outside? Were we even outside in the first place?

The guy groaned, shakily lifting himself off the ground. Matthew leaped out of the chair he was sitting in, even though he was just standing in front of me a few moments ago, and hurried as fast as he could with his big ol' belly, to the fallen man.

"Dude, you look weird," I called out, following after him.

The albino flashed a thumbs up. "That's because I'm awesome." He turned to my brother, on his feet without even having to lift himself from the ground. "Who are you?"

Matthew sighed, "Did you really have to ask that?"

"Who are you?" I asked him.

"I'm the baby's dad," the newcomer grinned, puffing out his chest proudly.

"We have never met before," my brother shook his head. "How is that possible?"

"Hey, I just fell out of a ceiling generated at this given moment in time, and managed to not even have any dirt on me, mostly because my awesomeness, but anyway, you're asking me what's possible?!"

I asked, "Why are you the dad, and not someone either of us know?"

The man shrugged. "Popular demand?"

Matthew stamped a foot on the ground again, though he does usually do that, so I don't know why he did that. Maybe the baby was making him do it! "I already told you, I'm the dad!"

"I don't think so," the dude said. "I'm the dad."

"Wait, guys," I held my hands out in sudden realization. "If you're the dad...and Mattie's the dad...who's making the pancakes?"

A horrible cloud of black smoke just happened to appear around us at that time, carrying the smell of burned food and tea for some reason. Matthew's eyes went wide. "Oh no..."

"Oh no, what?" The white haired guy glanced between the both of us.

"Arthur!" My brother and I called out at the same time, which was kinda funny, if we haven't been enveloped in a giant explosion. I don't know how overcooking pancakes managed to create a catastrophe like that, but we're supposed to be dead at this moment on, so I shouldn't be saying anything else.