For Him (Tracob)

Jacob's pov

It takes nearly a month before all the paperwork is settled with a lawyer, guidelines drawn out, everything from which appointments we'll be at (all of them) to which doctor she'll be seeing, to the birth plan

Signing the last of the documents is oddly surreal because... this is finally happening. In less than a year, Troye and I will be holding our baby in our arms, fully responsible for a little human being - our little human being. 

The thought of waiting 11, 10, or even just 9 months is almost unbearable. I'm just so ready and yet, not ready at all. From a practical standpoint, we're totally unprepared. We have nothing prepped or purchased, no baby gear or clothes or diapers or anything else. But from an emotional standpoint, I want my baby in my arms, and i know Troye does too. Not that we actually even have a baby at this point. Not even a little fetus. Charlie has her appointment for the artificial insemination in two days time. The last thing for Troye and I to figure out is which one of us will be the donor. We haven't broached the topic yet, though I know we should. The more you think about it, the more it switches between being an equally daunting, or unimportant decision. On one hand, it's not a big deal because we're both tested and healthy in that aspect, so it's not an issue of fertility. On the other hand...this is the choice that decides who our baby will look like. Who's little traits and mannerisms the inherit. Who everyone will exclaim they look/act just like. In a way, I want it to be me, because I want to be able to say that biologically my child is mine, but a larger, stronger part of me wants it to be Troye. I want to look at my kid and see Troye in his or her face. I want someone to inherit that smile, that voice, those angelic curls. I really really want that.

I resolve to sit down with Troye and make a decision about it today.

A tug on my arm pulls me out of my cloud of thought, and back into reality. My friend Marc is looking at me, eyebrows creased in concern. I instantly rearrange my face into a pleasant (or at least less moody) expression.

"Honestly, Jacob. What it up with you? You've been out of it all day."

I blink. "Nothing. I'm fine. Just thinking." I say automatically.

Marc is in LA for a photo session, which is what we're doing right now. Actually, we're nearly finished, just waiting for the director of photography to look over the finished shots and approve them before we can be dismissed. Marc is still looking at me weirdly and I can tell he's not convinced.

"Are you and Troye having issues?" He asks, dropping his voice to hushed tones.

"No," I say firmly, shaking my head. "Nothing like that. He and I are the one thing I'm not worrying about at all."

Marc whooshes out a breath of relief. "Good, because you and that curly brunette bitch are meant to be forever."

I suppress a smile. Oh how I wish I could just tell Marc the truth about what's been on my mind all day, but Troye and I made a promise that we wouldn't tell anyone outside our immediate family until everything is further along. I'm determined not to break that promise.

Marc looks somewhat offended still. "So you're really not going to tell me what's got you all sulky?"

"I'm not sulky!" I say defensively. "There's nothing to tell."

He shakes his head. "Wow, Jay. I thought years of you slumming it with me would have brought us closer than this."

I roll my eyes. "Oh please."

"I guess we can't all be tiny, beautiful, international pop stars worthy of your affection," he sighs.

"Marc...shut up. Seriously."