Warning: M-Preg, graphical description of birth, blood 

Remark: Sorry if it turned out badly. I wanted to try it out basicly.

It was a sunny day in August. The band Dire Straits were in their studio, laughing together. They were playing cards. While Pick Withers and David Knopfler were soul mates, so were John Illsley and Mark Knopfler. They had all come together to form a band and soon had a big breakthrough. Now they were about to release their third album.

Everyone had a soul mark on their wrist, on which the name of their soul mate was printed. That's how they had found each other. The soul mark made it possible for all people to have children, regardless of their gender. A miracle of nature, so to speak.

Anyway, the band members were in the studio. John was shuffling the cards while Mark was eating a sandwich.

"You eat and eat and eat." Pick said, looking at the guitarist in surprise. Mark raised his head and looked questioningly.

"What do you mean?" He mumbled around the sandwich.

"You've been eating non-stop for two months or so. Have you noticed that too, guys?" Pick laughed. "You've gotten fat too." He pointed to Mark's small belly. Emphasis on small. Since Mark had always been very thin, the small belly was noticeable. No one would have noticed it on any other person.

"That's not true!" Mark protested and put his half-eaten sandwich to one side. "I haven't gotten fat!"

"Look at yourself!" Pick laughed. "You didn't used to have that belly!" Mark folded his arms in front of his chest and looked to his soul mate for help.

"John? Have I gotten fat?" The bassist bit his lower lip. Mark had become very moody in the last few weeks and whenever someone said something offensive to him he got angry, so he chose his words wisely:

"No, honey." He kissed Mark on the forehead. Pick rolled his eyes.

"You're only saying that to make him happy."

"Right." John nodded. "If he's happy, I don't care about anything else." Mark smiled a little and looked down at his sandwich. They played some more cards before Mark got up to go to the bathroom. John followed him and waited at the sink. When Mark was done, he washed his hands and smiled at John. "Pick's right, you know?" The bassist sighed and leaned against the wall.

"What do you mean?" Mark asked in surprise, drying his hands with tissues.

"I don't want to hurt you, honey. But you've gained weight. You didn't have that little belly before." Mark bit his lower lip and felt his heart ache.

"Don't you love me anymore this way?" He whispered.

"Oh honey. Of course I still love you. I would always love you. I'm just telling you so you can work on it if it bothers you. That's all." John pulled the smaller man into his arms and kissed his head. "Please don't be mad. But you shouldn't eat so much if you want to stay in shape." Mark sighed and pushed John away before leaving the room.

*

The months passed quickly and Mark had stopped gaining weight. He still had the little belly, but nobody mentioned it. What they did notice, however, was the guitarist's restlessness. He rarely slept and seemed to be getting thinner and thinner. Only his little belly remained, no matter how much weight he lost. He hardly ate anything after the boys once laughed at him for eating two portions in a pub.

It was evening and Mark was standing at the fridge with a growling stomach. John was sitting on the sofa in their apartment watching TV. Pick and David were in their apartment, one street away. They lived just five minutes away from each other.

"John, I'm hungry!" Mark shouted and rummaged around in the fridge.

"Hungry? We just made dinner an hour ago." John puzzled and turned his head to see Mark. The guitarist sighed resignedly. "You really shouldn't eat so much, honey, you know?" Mark bit his lower lip and felt tears welling up in his eyes. He felt like he was starving. The portions that used to fill him up were no longer enough and he seemed to be constantly hungry. On top of all that, he also felt a constant stomach ache. But he had stopped telling John about it because the older man would worry too much. Mark took a small banana out of the fruit bowl and peeled it before eating it. His stomach growled loudly as he ate. The guitarist put a hand on his stomach and bit his lower lip hard before letting out a weak groan. A bolt of pain shot through his abdomen and Mark just managed to hold on to the kitchen counter without falling over. He let out a loud groan and bit his lower lip hard. What was that? He had never felt such pain in his life. Mark gasped loudly and clung to the kitchen counter with his eyes closed.

"John." He croaked. But the TV was so loud that the bassist couldn't hear him. It took a few minutes before the pain rolled over him again like a truck. The skinny guitarist squeaked in fear and pressed against his stomach. His stomach had felt strange for weeks. It was swollen and sometimes Mark had the feeling that something was moving inside him. Mark collapsed onto the kitchen chair, gasping, and let out a broken whimper. Sweat began to run down his forehead, his legs trembled weakly. Mark felt tears welling up in his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he so sick? Was he going to die? Mark heard the doorbell ring, but he didn't notice most of it. He gasped in pain as the waves of pain rolled over him in a regular five-minute cycle. He had completely lost track of time when suddenly his sister was standing in front of him.

Ruth Knopfler, two years older than Mark, had come to visit. She was holding her little son Jacob by the hand. John had let her into the apartment and told her that Mark was in the kitchen. She absolutely did not like what she found there.

"Mark?" She asked worriedly and quickly ran towards her brother. She put a hand on his forehead. "Mark, can you hear me?" Mark looked at her with glassy eyes, consumed in pain, and gasped weakly. The two siblings had not seen each other for ages and Ruth had been looking forward to this meeting for a week, but now that she found her younger brother in such pain, her joy had disappeared.

"What's wrong with Uncle Mark?" Jacob asked quietly and took Mark's hand.

"John!" Ruth shouted angrily. It only took a few seconds and the tall curly-headed man was standing in the kitchen. His eyes widened when he saw Mark. Pale, panting, sweating and obviously in a lot of pain.

"Honey!" He cried out in horror, running towards him. "What happened? Why didn't you say you weren't feeling well?" Mark let out a scream, completely ignoring the people around him as he wrapped an arm around his stomach and leaned forward in pain. Ruth studied his posture worriedly before she was shocked to see water running down Mark's legs and seeping through his sweatpants.

"John." She gasped loudly, wide-eyed. The bassist knelt in front of his soul mate, holding his hand anxiously. He had no idea what was going on, but he was extremely worried.

"What is it?" He asked without turning around.

"John, Mark is giving birth." The bassist turned around and stared at her with wide eyes.

"Ruth! What the hell are you trying to tell me!? Stop joking! Mark's in a lot of pain! If he were pregnant, I would know!" He shouted angrily. Mark screamed loudly as the pain stabbed him again.

"Can't you see that, you idiot?!" Ruth shouted and pushed John away from her brother. "The water on his legs?! The posture he's in?! The minute-long contractions?! He's pregnant!" John's eyes widened. "Mark. Look at me." Ruth said firmly and put a hand on her brother's cheek. Mark whimpered weakly and looked at her with blurry eyes. "What do you feel, little brother? A stabbing pain?" Mark nodded dazedly. "Where? In your lower abdomen? Pelvic floor?" The guitarist nodded and closed his eyes in pain. "Okay, darling." She hummed encouragingly. "You're going to give birth to a baby tonight. Can you hear me? God, how could you be so stupid and not notice that you are pregnant?"

"I am pregnant?" Mark croaked in horror. "But I...I don't have a belly and..."

"Of course you have!" She exclaimed, pointing to the small ball in his middle. "You're just so thin you can hardly see it. You're far too thin to be pregnant." Mark whimpered weakly as the pain started again. "Calm down." She hummed encouragingly. "We'll get you to the hospital and everything will be fine." Mark sobbed weakly as Ruth helped him to his feet.

*

Half an hour later, Mark lay in pain in the delivery room at St. Mary's Hospital in London. Dried tears could be seen on his cheeks while his legs were spread wide and a nurse worked between them. John sat worriedly next to him, holding his hand.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry. How did we not notice?" John cried, clinging to Mark's arm. "You were pregnant the whole time and I said all these horrible things to you. You didn't gain weight and you were only hungry because our child was inside you. I behaved so horribly." John cried. "I'm so sorry, I..."

"Sorry, Mr. Illsley." The nurse said mockingly. "You can be sorry later. Believe me. Your husband really has other problems right now." John turned his head and looked at Mark. The blond man clung to the bed frame with his hands. Tears ran down his cheeks as he gasped and tried to bear the pain, but it just kept getting worse.

"I want it to stop." Mark croaked weakly. "I can't do this anymore. Please, make it stop." John bit his lower lip hard. Guilt was still gnawing at him.

"I'd love to help you, baby. But I can't." John whimpered and kissed Mark's forehead. "You're doing great. You're so strong, my darling." Mark sobbed weakly as the pain grew stronger. The nurse looked under the sheet that was covering Mark's legs again and nodded.

"Just a few more inches and we can start."

"I love you." Mark cried. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want any of this and I..."

"Sh. Don't apologize, my darling. It wasn't planned, but we're going to be a little family, okay?" Hummed John and kissed Mark's forehead. "You definitely don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." A few minutes later, the head doctor came in, examined Mark and then asked John to go outside with him. The bassist kissed Mark's forehead and then followed the doctor. "What's wrong?" John asked worriedly. He knew something was definitely wrong.

"Your husband is 8 months pregnant, which means that the contractions are starting much too early. The baby would have to stay in the womb for another month." John bit his lower lip.

"What does that mean?"

"The baby will be underdeveloped and will have to stay in the premature baby ward for a while. With luck, it will survive, but I can't promise that." John felt his heart skip a beat. He had never thought about becoming a father the whole time and now that he was about to become one he couldn't quite classify his feelings.

"Okay." He said dazedly.

"And one more thing." The doctor looked briefly at the floor, not daring to look at John. "Mr. Knopfler is much too thin. He weighs 75 kilograms and would have to be at least 10 or even 15 kilograms heavier for this to be a healthy pregnancy." John's eyes widened. "The baby is also suffering because of his low weight and hasn't been able to develop properly."

"We didn't know he was pregnant." John whimpered, torn.

"I found out, yes." The doctor sighed. "We can't change his weight now, so we shouldn't think about it too much, but... I guess I have to be honest with you, Mr. Illsley." Suddenly they heard a loud scream of pain from the door and John flinched when he heard his soul mate screaming in pain. "What do you mean, doctor?" John asked worriedly.

"The chances of Mr Knopfler surviving this birth are slim." John's eyes widened so that they were bigger than saucers.

"What!?" He screamed. The doctor looked at him worriedly.

"He is very thin and very exhausted from the lack of food and sleep. To endure a birth, you have to be in top shape. I... I promise that I and my team will do everything we can to make sure it goes well. But I wanted you to know the truth. That you know that the whole thing could also go badly." John took a shuddering breath and held on to the doorpost. He felt dizzy. He felt like he was going to faint at any moment. Mark was underweight and pregnant and was about to give birth alone and scared, without having been able to prepare for the whole thing. And John? Well, John just seemed overwhelmed by the whole thing. "I'll check on him. If you want, a nurse will bring you something to drink. Please, sit down before you pass out." The doctor said before walking back into the room and closing the door behind him. John stared after him, wide-eyed.