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Summary
He groaned and put a hand to his head, feeling how sweaty it was. He wasn't feverish, so he couldn't be sick, at least he didn't think so.
He thought back to earlier in the day. The pain in his chest, the tiredness, the amount of sleep he'd gotten.
The world snapped back into focus.
"Oh my god."
He scrambled to his feet, then doubled over with another lurch from his stomach. He collapsed to his knees and threw up bile into the trash can. The tears in his eyes started to pour down his face. He curled around the trash can, crying softly.
Then, he heard footsteps come up to the door of his dressing room. There came a knock, but he didn't have the strength to speak up. The door creaked open, and Tenna carefully stepped inside. "Spammy? Oh god, are you okay?!" He rushed to his side, falling to his knees beside him. He held him close to his chest, feeling his forehead and cheeks. "I knew we should have rescheduled the rehearsal! You're sick, love. Let's get you home."
"Tenna," Spamton managed between a few coughs. "It's not- I'm not sick." He scooted the trash can away from him, but not too far, in case he needed to throw up again. "I'm pregnant."Series
- Part 18 of Spamton and Tenna's Scandalous Escapades