Chromosomes are a funny thing.
One too many or one missing and you're fucked. And not in a good way.
However next to Down syndrome and trisomy sometimes when you've got an extra chromosome it's not so tragic.
Usually being intersexual for example doesn't make you a retard.
By now there is this one chromosome (lovely scientists called it the gay one) that makes men being able to have babies.
Yeah, it's weird but it works. Of course, a chromosomal abnormality like that doesn't just exist from one moment to the other. It's been happening for years but since no one bothered to check if the guys were pregnant, they grew a child in them and then There was no way out and the babies suffocated in the men's bodies.
But since C-section is a thing, men are technically able to carry and give birth.
But only 10 or 13 percent of all male Americans got this chromosomal abnormality and most of them don't get fucked in the ass a lot.
Ian woke up alone in his bed, again.
He was confused when he couldn't feel his boyfriend next to him, he wanted to cuddle with him and maybe get some morning sex out of the Milkovich.
But instead he heard Weird noises from the bathroom.
Mickey was throwing up again. He had been sick for longer than Ian had nerves for by now.
Almost every morning Mickey threw up, not only in the morning, he seemed to dislike cheese so much when he was sick, that he started throwing up at the smell of Ian's lasagne - highly unfair in Ian's eyes; he may be not the best cook, but he wasn't that bad.
Because Mickey felt so down and sick all the time, they pretty much didn't have sex in three weeks! Mickey just didn't want to be touched, wasn't horny - What was weird enough - So he mostly just jerked Ian off. He didn't even blow him because he was afraid, he'd puke on Ian's dick.
Mickey came back From the bathroom with a water bottle in his hand.
"Hey babe, how are you feeling?"
Mickey just made a grunting noise and sat back down on his side of the bed.
"It's not getting better huh?" Ian asked emphatically and petted his lover’s hair.
"I'm probably gonna die." He mumbled.
Mickey just stuck his tongue out at him.
"That an invitation?" Ian grinned and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek.
"You're so weird. You just heard me throwing up and you're thinking 'damn I wanna fuck that'?"
"I always want to fuck that." He whispered and rubbed his thigh.
"Not in the mood, Gallagher."
Ian just sighed.
"Okay, I think it's time you see a doctor, Mick. And I don't mean the guy that's selling crack by the tracks and calls himself Dr. C. I mean a real doctor."
"No, thanks." He just said and attempted to lie down and turn away.
"Yes, you idiot. You're sick, you're gonna see a doctor. Easy as that."
"Oh, Bitch don't get me started on how I said that to you, and you went on a road trip with the kid!"
Ian rolled his eyes at his grumpy boyfriend, he knew that there was no anger in Mickey about that topic anymore.
"And you told me I'd only get better if I go see that doctor. So same thing for you. I'm not gonna listen to you throwing up anymore without knowing what fucking virus you have. I take you to a doctor and you're gonna get better, end of discussion!"
Mickey looked at him for a long moment.
"Did you seriously just used your dad-voice on me?"
"You're not that much taller than Yevgeny, I'm gonna carry you to the car too if I have to."
Mickey rolled his eyes and got dressed.
"I hate doctors" Mickey mumbled for the fifth time. "We just sit around and wait for hours so that douche bag tells you I'm sick. Yeah, I noticed that, thanks!"
"A douche bag with a medical degree. I just want to know what's up with you. Imagine, in the end it's something really serious and then you're gonna die because we didn't go to see a doctor."
"Serious? Like what?"
"I don't know. Cancer? A brain tumour? Cholera?"
Mickey shook his head at his boyfriend.
"I told you to stop googling symptoms Ian. Remember last year, you panicked because you thought Yevy had the plague. The fucking plague! I just got a fucking virus or something for sure. Or my body is getting to all the puking I didn't do for years after drinking too much."
"You think you're having a 5-year-late hangover?"
"You thought our son had an illness that is extinct!" Mickey exclaimed.
"Mr Milkovich?" A nurse said finally, and Ian and Mickey followed her to finally see that doctor. A woman with blonde hair put into a ponytail and a white coat waited for them.
"So, what symptoms do you have, Mr Milkovich?" She asked right away looking at a form in her hands.
Mickey wasn't willing to talk to the stupid doctor, so Ian started talking instead:
"He's sick almost every morning and sometimes also throws up during the day, he's tired and exhausted, gets headaches a lot and he even had a bit temperature the other day. You complained about your chest hurting a lot" He thought about the last month, "and low sex drive."
The doctor looked at Ian and then to the annoyed Milkovich.
"And apparently he can't talk himself."
"Because he's grumpy and annoyed. Not sure if that counts as a symptom"
"For how long have you been feeling like that? And I asked Mr Milkovich" she added when Ian wanted to answer.
"Don't have a clue. A month maybe? Three weeks? I'm sure it's nothing just some weird virus, isn't there always a virus going around somewhere?"
"Not right now, no. We're going to run a few tests and then we'll see."
"Great now I have to piss into a cup just because you think I've got cancer because I didn't fuck you for a few weeks."
"You usually can hardly go without a day, you gotta admit it's odd. And it's mainly because of the puking every damn morning, Mickey."
Mickey just rolled his eyes at him.
"It's probably not cancer, Mr Milkovich, but we have to wait for the test results. Now" she took a plastic cup from a board and gave her nurse a sign "piss in a cup"
"I'm so getting back at you for this" he mumbled to Ian.