Last revised 22 Nov 2013, to better keep characters IC, and other general improvements

Disclaimer: Junjo Romantica is the creation of Nakamura Shungiku and belongs to her and those who hold copyright over it; obviously I am not one of them. It's not my sandbox, I'm just playing in it. This disclaimer applies to this and all subsequent chapters.

Warnings and whatnot: mpreg, biology!fail (basically, scientific/medical babble that really doesn't make any sense as the reason for the mpreg), smut in later chapters (individually warned for)

Pairings: focus will be on all the main three (Romantica, Egoist, Terrorist) eventually, background Mistake and Sumi/Haruhiko. This chapter focuses on Romantica. Egoist will start in chapter three (five on the drop-down menu) and Terrorist will start in chapter six (chapter eleven on the drop down menu). Chapters are occasionally split for length.

IMPORTANT: In this fic, Takahiro, etc. will already know about Misaki/Akihiko; I have a backstory to this. The story is called "And I Will Follow You Home" (Though they are completely independent of each other. Reading the oneshot is not necessary to understanding the fic, and the oneshot can very much stand on its own).

Other Notes: So this thing percolated in my mind until it attempted to swallow me whole, which ended up to be this... thing. I don't know how long it will go, but I have A LOT of scenes in my head. I'm aware of the fact the end of the Japanese school year is too early in this (by about a week or so); basically I screwed up my timeline a bit. This is written in limited third, and what the characters are called in narrative is dictated by which character the PoV is in; the character the PoV is from normally changes by the scene breaks. Title of this chapter cribbed from the song "Landmine" by Train; title of the story taken from the lyrics of Collective Soul's "Link". All other notes at the end.

"37.3. You don't have a fever."

Misaki cracked one eye open to stare at Usagi sitting in a chair by their bedside, as they were currently in the older man's toy paradise of a bedroom. Paradise? More like a toy hell – he could see the creepy eyes of several of the dolls staring at him as if they were possessed. How come he'd never noticed that before?

"Maybe we should try shaking it? I heard you're supposed to do that to get a more accurate reading," Usagi suggested, contemplating the electrical thermometer in his hand.

Misaki closed his eye. "That's for a mercury thermometer, idiot. I don't even think they make those anymore." He groaned, further curling into a tight fetal position, the sheets lightly twisted around himself shifting with him. "My stomach..." he moaned, clutching his abdomen. "It hurts… I think it's decided to mutiny... soon, it will implode, soaking the sheets in its acidic remains." He opened his eyes to glare at Usagi. "Then you'll be sorry."

"What did I ever do to hurt your stomach?" Usagi asked.

"Oh, I dunno, pushing it against the bed, the kitchen counter, the bathroom counter, the couch, the armrests of the couch – nearly every armrest in the apartment, actually – the stairs, the floor, the WALL –"

"Misaki, are you trying to turn me on?"

"What the – no, you PERVERT!" As Misaki's face started to color, he sat up quickly, bending his body to see Usagi – "Ow!" He clutched his stomach again, leaning over and wincing. He turned his head to glare at Usagi. "This is so your fault, you jerk! You and your – your –" His blush was deepening, he knew it. "Your disrespect for my body!"

"Disrespect?" Usagi said, quirking an eyebrow. "To the contrary, Misaki, I always endeavor to give your body the utmost respect –"

"Ugh!" Misaki muttered, his cheeks burning. He turned away from Usagi and lay back down, grabbing the top sheet and pulling it over his head as he went.

"I really don't think your stomach's mutinying against you," Usagi said. Misaki didn't bother to peer over the sheet, afraid the man was somehow going to say something more perverted. "It's more likely that an alien life-force is about to burst forth from your body in a gruesome and terrifying manner. You didn't let an alien face hug you recently, did you?"

"Huh?" Misaki said, lowering the sheet, eying Usagi and trying to figure out when the man had gone mad. Scratch that – he was always mad.

"I had a friend in England that was obsessed with sci-fi movies – well, not so much a friend as a mortal enemy, but back then I didn't know the difference."

"Uh huh," he said, still confused and wondering what terrible thing he'd done in a former life for his current to have become so strange.

"Anyway," Usagi said, "the point is: you need to see a doctor."

"I don't need to see – wait, how did you get to that from aliens in English sci-fi movies?"

"American, actually, but that has nothing to do with it – I'm going by the fact that you're in extreme pain."

"I'm not – ugh..." Misaki groaned. Why did his body have to remind him of the pain he was experiencing right when he was denying it existed?

"Pain you have told me was due to nerves from your new job," Usagi said. "Except now it's Golden Week, and the pain seems to be the same as, if not worse than, before."

"Well, if you would just stop –"

"Misaki, I haven't even touched you for over a week," Usagi said. To Misaki's relief, he didn't sound needy, just... tired, and possibly a little frustrated. "Every time I don't have work, you've been sleeping." Okay, make that a lot frustrated. "Once you were sleeping in the middle of the afternoon!" Err, really, really frustrated.

"Well, I uh..." Misaki stuttered. He knew he'd run out of excuses, but he avoided doctors whenever he could – though Usagi didn't know that.

"Misaki, when's the last time you've seen a doctor?" Usagi asked.

Uh-oh. "Um... well, I was required to see one before I started classes at Mitsuhashi..."

"Four years ago?" Usagi said, eyes widening. He then closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, clearly exasperated. Feelings of guilt and shame began to bloom in Misaki, his chest tight and his throat painful.

"Yeah?" he said, his voice quiet.

Usagi looked at him. He sighed and ruffled Misaki's hair, making the burden of guilt that had started to form on his shoulders lighten. "Where did you go four years ago, a public clinic?" He asked.

Misaki nodded in reply.

"I'll schedule an appointment with my own doctor," Usagi said, getting up. "My cell's in my office – I'll be back in a minute."

Misaki watched him leave the room with a strong sense of impending doom starting to form in his stomach.

Or maybe it was nausea.

Or both.

It didn't take long for Usagi to reenter the room. "Yamamoto-sensei has an empty slot open in half-an-hour. Get dressed; he's a good ten minute drive from here."

Misaki groaned but complied, pushing back the covers and getting up. A fresh wave of nausea and pain hit as he got up, making him grimace. Usagi reached over and grabbed his arm to offer support. He flinched in response but didn't try to shoo him away.

"Do you need help getting dressed?" Usagi asked him, and for once, he sounded genuinely concerned without a hint of the insinuations that would typically accompany such a statement.

"No, I can do that on my own," he said, hobbling off towards the door.

After Misaki dressed, he started down stairs to see Usagi finishing off a cigarette. "You're smoking right before we go to visit a doctor?" he asked him, annoyance beginning to seep in. Usagi's smoking habits were starting to get to him lately; he wasn't sure why, but he reckoned it most likely had to do something with his new found dislike of cigarette smoke – it smelled so much worse than it ever had before. Not that he'd told Usagi, of course; he figured he would grow accustomed to it again, and he wouldn't want to burden the man with his sudden, strange aversion.

"Well, I can't smoke there, and it's not like I'm the one with the appointment," Usagi pointed out, crushing the remains of the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

"Whatever," Misaki mumbled. He opened the fridge, suddenly wanting... something. He spotted some raspberries, and grabbed them – those looked good – and then closed the door behind him.

"You're eating something despite being in extreme pain?" Usagi looked at him in bewilderment.

"I have to eat something," he pointed out. He really wanted those raspberries.

Usagi sighed. "After you have enough of those, we're going."

"Got it," he said, and popped the raspberries into his mouth, savoring the taste.

The Western-style waiting room of the office of Doctor Yamamoto Jiro reflected the affluence expected of the clientele. The walls were painted a rich beige color and lined with prints of famous impressionist and early modern paintings (it was rather evident that the doctor had a bit of an obsession with Western art). In one corner stood a large aquarium filled with brightly colored, exotic-looking fish. The chairs were all overstuffed leather, and the magazine shelves were brimming with business and high style periodicals. Plants – at least one of which was an orchid – took up every nook and cranny and soothing, wordless music piped into the room from well-hidden speakers.

"Is this really a doctor's office?" Misaki asked, with that irritated expression on his face that Akihiko found both adorable and strangely alluring, as half of the expressions his lover made were. The other half were really alluring.

"I spare no extravagance for my Misaki," he replied, and was pleased with the responding blush. It really had been too long since he'd been able to touch Misaki (really, was there ever an interval that wasn't too long?). Which, besides the obvious fact that he would rather cut off his own limb than see Misaki in pain, was the reason he'd finally reached his limit with Misaki's excuses. Once they'd figured out what the problem was and fixed it, he'd be able to screw Misaki as he should be able to.

"Usami-sensei?" He turned to see the receptionist had arrived. "You called about your..." she flipped a few pages on her clipboard, "partner, yes?"

He smiled pleasantly; he didn't need to see Misaki to know his lover was blushing, probably with a glare and twitching eyebrow.

"That's correct," Akihiko said. He approached the desk. "I assume there's some paperwork to fill out?"

"Here," she said, handing him a clipboard with some forms and a pen. "Yamamoto-sensei's with a patient, but will be with you shortly."

"Very well. Come on, Misaki," he said, turning to look at his beloved, who, as he predicted, was glaring at him, his cheeks flush and his eyebrow suffering from a sudden spasm.

"Did you have to call me your partner?" Misaki whined quietly as he followed him to the leather chairs.

"Is there another term you would have preferred?" he asked as he settled into one of the chairs next to a mahogany Baroque end table and gestured for Misaki to sit next to him.

Misaki didn't say anything as he plopped onto the chair he had motioned to, just grumbled unintelligibly. Akihiko smiled at him.

"Don't worry, Yamamoto-sensei and his employees are very discreet," he said. He put on his reading glasses and looked over the forms, then handed over some of the paperwork to Misaki. "I'll fill out the payment information; you take care of the medical information."

"Obviously," Misaki mumbled, handing over his insurance card. He looked at the paperwork, then back at Akihiko. "Uh, Usagi-san? I need a pen. And something to write on."

"Hmm? Oh." He handed over the clipboard and pen, then procured a pen from his jacket and leaned over to write on the end table.

He heard Misaki cough lightly. "Um... Usagi-san? That pen you're writing with... is that the one I got you our first Christmas?"

Akihiko looked at the pen in his hand. "Indeed it is." He looked over at Misaki and smiled. "I carry it with me everywhere. I've even replaced the ink twice."

Misaki proceeded to blush, then went back to writing, looking a bit pleased. Akihiko's smile broadened. It was often the little things that pleased his lover so much.

"Usagi-san?" Misaki said after a few moments of quiet.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Um, it's just... for 'emergency contact', I think Niichan used to list himself when I was younger, but, uh, he might be busy –"

"You can list me if you want, Misaki," he said.

Misaki said nothing but his cheeks pinkened; he nodded, and then went back to filling out his forms.

Akihiko smiled to himself as he went back to his own forms he needed to fill. It was often the little things his lover did that pleased him too.

It wasn't long before Misaki handed over his paperwork, along with the pen and clipboard, to Akihiko. "I'm done."

"Me too," Akihiko said, looking over what he'd written, "just as soon as you sign here and here." Misaki signed where he pointed, and Akihiko got up from the chair, putting his glasses away.

"Ugh," Misaki groaned, clutching his stomach.

"I'm just going to turn this in to the receptionist, I'll be right back," he told him wryly, not bothering to hide his amusement at Misaki's pain peaking the second he started walking away from him. Misaki glowered at him.

"Stupid Usagi," he muttered.

Akihiko just grinned with a playful smugness and proceeded to the front desk.

"Here you are," he said, handing over the completed forms with the pen they'd lent him and the clipboard.

"Ah, thank you very much, Usami-sensei!" the woman at the front desk said, bowing slightly. "Yamamoto-sensei should be finishing up very soon –"

The sound of a door opening and two pairs of footfalls interrupted her.

"Ah, Yamamoto-sensei and Watanabe-san!" the woman said as Yamamoto-sensei and a well-dressed patient approached the desk. Akihiko turned to greet the doctor, an older man well into his fifties, whom he'd known for several years now.

"Usami-sensei, good to see you!" Yamamoto-sensei said, the normally serious man giving a small smile. "Give me a few minutes and I'll be with you."

"I'm not here for me, but for my partner," he said, gesturing towards Misaki, who looked a strange mixture of miserable and nervous, and perhaps a little green.

"Ah, I see," the doctor said, looking at Misaki. "The same applies to him, then. A few minutes."

"Thank you. I'll tell him."

The doctor nodded and walked to the front desk, presumably to talk to the receptionist about the most recent patient.

Akihiko walked back to Misaki and sat back down, telling him what the doctor had said. Misaki swallowed uneasily and started fretting with his hands.

"There's no need to be anxious," he told him. "Yamamoto-sensei isn't one to judge."

Misaki nodded in response but his posture didn't relax at all. "I just..." He swallowed again. "There's no one else here in the waiting room. I'm not... inconveniencing him, am I?"

Akihiko relaxed a bit. Was that all he was worried about? "Yamamoto-sensei routinely keeps his practice open on Golden Week; for some of his patients, it's the only time they'll allow themselves to focus on something other than work." He put a hand on Misaki's shoulder, startling him and causing him to look up at him. "You're not being a burden." He never was, but sometimes Misaki would slip into a guilty-worry mode and needed reassurance.

"Takahashi-san?" the receptionist called out. "Yamamoto-sensei will see you now."

Misaki stood up, body tense. He took a deep breath and looked at Akihiko. "You're coming with me?" he asked.

"Do you want me to?" he replied.

Misaki shifted from foot to foot and shrugged. "If you want to," he muttered, avoiding eye contact with him, his cheeks turning a light shade of red.

Akihiko stood up and Misaki relaxed a bit, but he still appeared remarkably tense. He put his hand on his boyfriend's shoulder and leaned in towards his ear.

"What you said this morning, Misaki, I was thinking... what armrests have we missed? I was so sure I'd gotten them all." Misaki's reaction was as expected: his eyes widened and his cheeks attained a rather brilliant shade of vermilion as he stared, horrified, at him and hissed a"pervert Usagi!". However, his body visibly relaxed, so Akihiko just smirked, satisfied.

He led Misaki down a long hallway to an exam room door Yamamoto-sensei motioned towards, Misaki mumbling something about the bathrooms probably having faucets in the shape of lions' heads. Misaki seemed to mention that often when they went somewhere rich; it was getting to the point that Akihiko was thinking of having some of them installed in his own bathroom at home, as much as Misaki claimed they were a waste of money. If all went well, Misaki would yell and sputter at him for being so profligate, then Akihiko would just smile at his lover's adorableness and have sex with him in the bathroom... possibly in the shower... huh, why he hadn't he installed those by now? He made a mental note to himself to do that sometime soon.

"You're thinking something perverted, aren't you?" Misaki asked him. Was he that obvious?

"Now, why would you think that, Misaki?" he said. "Unless you are –"

"Perverted Usagi," Misaki grumbled, and turned into the room Yamamoto-sensei had indicated.