Fairy Tale! Part 2! And remember kids, crack is wack! Crack is a ghetto drug.
(continued from
here)
The manual arrives via FedEx the next day as promised, and Kris holes himself up in the bathroom to read it, sitting on the cold floor next to the toilet just in case he feels the need to puke, which he probably will, since it's pretty much all he does now. It's a good thing the album is basically done, he thinks as he rips open the FedEx envelope and pulls out a red leather-bound book. The suits at Jive are antsy enough about him as it is, he can't imagine what they'd do if they found out about him being a gay pregnant fairy.
On the front cover of the manual, embossed in curly gold lettering, are the words, "So You're A Fairy... What Now?" Classy, Kris thinks, and opens the manual. The index is three pages long and Kris knows that eventually he'll have to read the whole book, which is almost Harry Potter-sized, but for now there's only one thing he really wants to know about, and that's the thing growing inside him, craving beef like it's going out of style and making him puke every forty minutes. He flips to chapter ten and begins reading.
So You're A Gay Pregnant Fairy... What Now?
What to Expect When You're A Man, Expecting
You're probably asking yourself, "Self, how did we get into this situation in the first place? We don't even have female reproductive organs!" Not to worry. This is why we at the Fairy Advisory Informational Review and Efficacy Embassy (FAIREE) have created this highly useful propaganda to explain the Facts of Fairy Life in these emergency sorts of situations.
The good news is, fairy gestation is only half as long as the human equivalent, which means in just four short months from the moment of faeception, you'll have a healthy pod ready for burying.
The bad news is, male fairy births aren't like other births.
At this point you're probably asking yourself, "Self, what do the fine fae at FAIREE mean with all this talk of pods and burying and weird birthings?" All will be explained in a timely if ramblingly unclear manner, so DON'T PANIC!
Have you ever wondered why you're so much prettier than normal humans? And yet, why you're also so much shorter than them, considering your good genes that made you so perfect-looking? Have you ever wondered why you're so much more talented in music or art than other people, or why it is that you can practically unhinge your jaw in such a disturbingly snake-like manner? Do your friends jealously remark upon your ability to eat all the McDonalds and Chick-fil-A you want without gaining a pound, even if you never exercise? Well, FAIREE is happy to put your fears at rest, because all of these things are perfectly natural--for fairies.
If you read chapter three, "Digestion and You: Everybody Poops!" then this will be a bit of a review, but for those of you panicked expectant gay fairies out there who skipped straight to chapter ten, FAIREE is happy to recap this vital information. You see, fairies have a very special digestive system that metabolizes things much more quickly than the mundane human digestive system, aside from seemingly anomalous thyroid conditions, obviously, but FAIREE speculates that almost all humans diagnoses with hyperthyroidism are actually fairies who just don't know it. What you probably don't know about fairy digestion is that fairies actually have a special--some might say magical--ability to digest backwards as well as forwards. The backwards process combined with the highly evolved metabolic process of the fae produce a rather fantastic effect of bringing out the full latent potential of whatever is ungested. Of course, not many fairies utilize this power, because backwards-digestion, or ungestion, as we call it, can be quite uncomfortable and even painful in some cases, depending on the ungesting item in question. It's also fairly rare because, to be frank, most fairies don't like shoving things up their butts and puking them out at a later date, no matter how magical the end results or how far they can unhinge their jaws.
If you're reading this chapter, it's probably because you had unprotected gay sex. You're probably wondering how sperm alone can make a baby. You might be worrying about birth defects or so-called flipper babies, but we're here to tell you that it's all perfectly natural due to your magical metabolic ungestion system! Once sperm (or any other once-living substance) is ungested, it travels through the intestines, collecting ungestion fluids as it goes, until it arrives in the ungestion sack located where humans have appendixes (see
Figure 10.3). It is theorized that humans are actually a devolved strain of fairy because of their retention of this useless organ. Once the sperm reaches the ungestion sack, it combines with the magical juices to bring out its full potential--a baby!
The ungestion sack forms a pod skin around the fairyling to protect it during the metabolic process. Around four months later, depending on small variation rates in the ungestive metabolism of each individual fairy, you will gurgitate the pod by unhinging your jaw. Luckily, the pods remain fairly small due to the narrowness of the esophagus, and most remain about the size of a large orange. They kind of resemble oranges, too, except they're green and the pod skin is rather stretchy and tough. Your throat will be sore for a week or so afterward, so make sure to drink plenty of hot tea with lemon and limit the use of your voice as much as possible.
At this point, your work is done, but the fairyling isn't! You must bury the pod in dirt from the isle of our homeland, Emerald Clover (available on the FAIREE website for $59.99 plus tax and shipping; includes magically unbreakable faux-pottery pod bucket and watering canister; beef juice sold separately) and maintain the pod with regular doses of water and beef juice to ensure a healthy fairy. On the night of the following full moon, the pod will sprout and your new joy will be born into the world!
And that's how babies are made (by gay male fairies)!
Kris shuts the book and just stares at the cover for a moment in horror before leaning over the toilet bowl and vomiting spectacularly into it. At least, he thinks numbly, flushing the toilet and wiping his mouth, he didn't puke up his baby. This time.
*
Kris's assigned PR lackey calls the following day to go over his schedule for his upcoming New York trip with him--"You'll be mostly switching off with Adam between the various talk shows and late night shows, but they want a few interviews of the two of you together to announce the tour, so be prepared for that"--and that's when Kris realizes that there's no way in hell he can actually do this. He's about to gurgitate a baby, he can't drop an album and talk to David Letterman like there's not a podperson forming in his ungestion sack. Besides, he's pretty sure he won't be able to keep from throwing up or at least gagging for the entire time it takes to film an interview segment.
"I can't do this," he interrupts her, feeling totally and completely miserable. He's maybe not going to birth his fairyling in a crack den, but his life is certainly ruined in epic, after-school special proportions anyway.
"Of course you can," PR Girl says impatiently.
"No, I really can't. I have like. A medical emergency. I can't go to New York."
"Are you dying?"
"Um. Not exactly."
"Until you are exactly dying, you need to stop freaking out. You have an album to promote, Allen, and Jive doesn't pay me to help you not fulfill your responsibilities."
"But I really can't go. I have a. A thing. There's a lot of vomit involved, and my doctors can't do anything about it so I just don't see how it's even possible for me to--"
"You're still at the hotel, right?" she talks over him, and Kris can hear her clicking away at a computer at the same time. "I'm sending in our emergency situation team. Chad and Melinda will be over within the hour, so stay put and we'll get this all taken care of."
"I don't think they can help," Kris says, but PR Girl has already hung up on him. An hour later on the dot, Chad and Melinda knock on his hotel room door and Kris lets them in reluctantly, explaining, "I really don't think there's anything you can do about my, um. Problem."
"We'll be the judges of that," Melinda says, snapping her gum loudly. She looks like every other thirty-something LA woman: shiny blond highlights, orangey-brown spray tan that clashes with her fuchsia suit, and spiked heels that could and probably do double as deadly assault weapons. Chad is wearing a Dodgers cap and a white t-shirt with several food stains on it. Neither of them inspire much confidence, Kris thinks, and he highly doubts they'll be able to help with his podbaby.
"Out with it," Chad says, slumping down in the lone chair at the desk. "We don't have all day, Allen. Other celebrities have emergency situations that need handling too, you know. You're not some special snowflake."
"Well," Kris says, but then he stops because how do you tell two people you just met that you're a pregnant fairy who's due to gurgitate his pod in two months? Kris is pretty sure that you just don't, because there's no way that this whole thing doesn't make him look like a completely insane person.
Melinda sighs and rolls her eyes. "Seriously, we have other shit to do today. What is it? Drugs? Booze? Prostitutes? You knocked up some girl who told you she was eighteen, but she's actually fifteen and suing you for child support and statutory rape?"
"No!" Kris says. "No, nothing like that." The way he says it makes it sound like it's not as bad as getting a fifteen year old pregnant, but it really is. It's so much worse. It's podbabies. Clearly, it's worse.
Chad narrows his eyes. "Well, you haven't turned into a girl as far as I can tell, but it's kind of hard to tell with you already being so short."
Kris stares. "No, I'm not a girl. That really happens? I thought Charles was just overdoing the anime."
"Oh, that really happens," Melinda says. "Do you honestly believe that Joaquin Phoenix went crazy and grew that disgusting beard and gave up acting? Please. He woke up a woman last year and never managed to switch back the way most people usually do. Luckily, we have a very sophisticated robot system to employ in such situations. Now the world just thinks he's insane and no one knows about the inconvenient genderswap."
Kris doesn't really see how that's better, but it certainly explains a lot about Joaquin Phoenix. "Well, I didn't wake up a woman," Kris says. "But um. It's like that. Kinda."
Chad narrows his eyes at Kris, looks him up and down carefully and says, "You're ungesting, aren't you? Please, tell me it's just a cucumber you couldn't get out, or even a hampster, and not, like, an actual baby."
Kris hangs his head, staring at the floor and resisting the urge to simultaneously order an extremely rare steak from room service and run for the toilet to puke. That seems to be answer enough for Chad and Melinda.
"Have you considered your options?" Melinda says carefully. "Podbabies are a big responsibility and you're just getting started in your career, so you might want to think about--"
"Oh my god, are you telling me to abort my baby?" Kris says, mouth hanging open in horror. He can't even imagine what a fairy abortion would be like. They'd probably have to cut it out of him. He's vomited enough in the last three weeks to know that pumping his stomach won't do a damn thing to the ungestion sack.
"It's not a baby yet, Kris. It's just a pod. And it's not really an abortion, it's more of a... canceling out process." Melinda looks to Chad for help, and he shrugs.
"It's a spermicidal suppository," he says bluntly. "Like the morning after pill for your ass. Which you should be on anyway, if you're going to be having unprotected gay sex all the time, now. It only took Lance Bass one faked attempt at space travel to figure that out."
"It's not all the time! It was just the once, and we used a condom!" Kris takes a deep breath, trying to think logically about what Melinda said. He could... cancel out the pod. He doesn't have to gurgitate at all, or pay sixty bucks plus tax and shipping for a bucket of dirt from Emerald Clover, or ever tell Adam about how one time, they accidentally had sex that Adam doesn't remember and then Kris got pregnant with Adam's podbaby. It's an attractive option, and easier than the alternative, but--"I can't," he tells them. "Maybe it's just a pod to you, but it's my pod, and I can't just kill it before it even has a chance to sprout."
Chad just rolls his eyes and Melinda's perfectly shaped and plucked eyebrows shoot up almost to her hairline. "Have you told Adam that he's going to be a father, yet?" she says.
Kris collapses on the bed, moaning pitifully and covering his face with his hands. He's not surprised that she assumed Adam was the one who knocked him up, because honestly, who else would it be? Danny? But she's totally right--there's no way this is ever going to stay a secret, not with a pod on the way and the upcoming tour. He's going to have to tell Adam, and not just because a baby sprouting out of a pot will be kind of obvious and require some forewarning, but also because it's Adam's podbaby, too. Kris might be a slut and a cheater and a fairy, but he still has his principles, and he's pretty sure that Jesus would not be chill with the amounts of Jerry Springer drama it would take to hide the entire affair.
So yeah, he has to tell Adam, and soon, before the gurgitation. Kris can't even imagine the intense levels of awkward that's going to be. Just thinking about it is making him sick to his stomach, although really, that's probably just the baby telling him it's time for another commune with the toilet.
"That's a no," Chad says, smirking a little. "Well, we can help with the vomitting at least, there's pill made from the leaves of the famed Emerald Clover cow tree--"
"The what tree?"
"The cow tree," Chad continues, standing up and already heading for the door. "Why do you think the shortage of 1899 happened? Bad winter, lots of the podcalfs didn't make it. Didn't you even bother reading your manual?" He shakes his head like he thinks Kris is an idiot. "Anyway, you can order them from the website." He looks at Melinda, jerking his head toward the door. "Let's get the fuck out of here. What a waste of time. Jesus, Allen, at least read the freaking manual before you decide to call in the emergency situation team!"
Kris watches them go, feeling slightly better about the whole situation, especially if he can take a pill that will help him stop puking all the time. Maybe, he thinks as he gets out his laptop to look at the FAIREE website, he can actually pull this off. He'll go to New York with Adam, promote his album, and gurgitate his pod in a couple months. He's not sure what will happen when the thing actually sprouts, and there's still the whole part where he has to tell Adam, but for the first time since he started puking hourly, Kris lets himself feel a little bit of hope. He's having a baby, after all. It's a whole new beginning.
*
Adam shows up at his hotel room door unannounced the next day looking pale and worried and still totally hot despite the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he's lost even more weight since Kris saw him a few days ago.
"Adam? What's going on? Is something wrong?" Kris says, opening the door and ushering Adam into the room. Kris's cow tree pills arrived by courier a few hours ago and they're already helping. He hasn't even felt like throwing up since taking them, so he's actually feeling pretty good, but seeing Adam looking so obviously wrong and not Adamy is kind of freaking him out all over again. He rubs at his stomach and frowns, pulling Adam down to sit next to him on the bed.
Adam turns to look at him incredulously. "Is something wrong? Fucking yes, there's something wrong! I haven't heard from you in days, Kris, and then I get this hysterical voicemail from Katy about how you're cheating on her with some other woman just like she thought, but when I called her back--"
"Katy thought I was cheating on her with another woman?" Kris says blankly. Suddenly, everything starts to make a lot more sense, like why she kept making up reasons to not have sex with him and would go through his dirty laundry "looking for loose change," carefully examining every scrap of paper she found in his pants pockets like she was starring in NCIS: Wilshire Grand or something. Well, she was wrong, because he didn't cheat on her. Not with another woman, anyway, and not in a way that counted, aside from the whole baby production side effect of the One Night In Kris affair, and there's just no way she could've ever guessed that he was a gay pregnant fairy when he didn't even know himself. Plus, Milwaukee. It so didn't count.
"Apparently," Adam says. He looks at Kris, eyes dark and sad. "You're not, are you? I wouldn't ask, but she seemed so sure, between the sobbing and the yelling."
Kris can't even pretend to be offended that Adam asked. After all, Kris still hasn't told Adam about the pod growing in his ungestion sack, or the fact that it's Adam's. He shakes his head, and before he can even think about what he's saying, the words are coming out of his mouth like so much vomit into the toilet. "I didn't cheat on her with another woman, but there was--is, I'm not sure because, um, I'm just not, it's complicated--but there's maybe someone. Else."
Adam's eyebrows go up and his mouth drops open in surprise. "Oh," he says, very inarticulately for him being Adam and all. "Oh. You mean, like. A guy?"
Kris takes a deep breath and thinks to himself, it's now or never. His wife left him because she was paranoid that he had some secret baby mama, he's pregnant and alone in a city far from home, and he just found out that he's not even human, plus this morning he tried to unhinge his jaw according to the directions in the manual, thinking it'd be really good practice for if he ever got up the nerve to ask if he could suck Adam's dick, and got stuck like that for fifteen minutes because he forgot to read the directions on how to rehinge. He's got nothing to lose.
"I'm kind of in love with you," he says.
Kris isn't sure what he's expecting--a kiss or maybe an 'I'm in love with you, too,' back--but it sure as hell isn't Adam jumping up from the bed and practically sprinting for the door.
"Wait--where are you going?" Kris says, watching helplessly from the bed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. Don't leave!"
Adam looks at him, crosses the room back to the bed and looks down at him for a moment before leaning in and pressing his lips to Kris's once, hard. It's freaking amazing for all ten seconds of it and then it's over, Adam rushing back to the door and gathering up his keys and sunglasses to go. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob, his back to Kris, head bowed to expose the back of his neck. Kris's slut spirit goes into immediate overdrive, thinking about what Adam's skin would taste like without the thick coating of vodka and roofies dulling his senses, and he briefly bemoans the shitty not-superpowers of fairies that mostly involve shoving things up their asses instead of useful skills, like the art of seduction or something.
"Give me until New York," Adam says, voice a little shaky. "Just until then, okay Kris? And then we'll figure this out, I promise."
"Why can't we figure it out now?" Kris says. He doesn't mean for 'figure it out' to sound so much like 'fuck our brains out,' but he's a fairy. He can't help his whorish nature.
"Because I have to go break up with my boyfriend right now," Adam says, "and considering I just asked him to move in, that's going to take some explaining."
*
The day before he's supposed to leave for New York, he finally meets up with the guy his mom set him up to talk to about the whole man pregnancy thing at a Starbucks in Compton that Adam once told him is the best place to get coffee in LA because the baristas are so mean that no one goes there. It's perfect for Kris's purposes because it's guaranteed to be empty, except that when he walks in the door he sees Michael Sarver at the register, ordering a chai from the angriest-looking sixteen year old girl Kris has ever seen. He's about to attempt a strategic exit because the last thing he needs is Michael being here when the man fairy guru shows up to explain to Kris all the details that chapter ten of the manual skipped over, such as how long the gergitation takes, what happens if the pod gets stuck, and how's he supposed to breathe during the process, but then Michael turns around and smiles at Kris, completely unsurprised to see him there.
"Hey Kris," he says, moving aside so Kris can approach the register, "go ahead and get what you want, it's on me. And then we can talk, okay?"
"Um," says Kris. The barista girl gives him a look of absolute loathing and says, "Aren't you that lame American Idol guy? The other dude should've won, he was way better."
"Thanks," Kris says, and Michael rolls his eyes. They've all heard it before and the only person it still bothers is Adam. Kris orders his coffee and the baristas take their time making it, which Kris doesn't mind because he's still trying very hard not to think about the fact that Michael Sarver is here to meet him, which means that Michael Sarver is the guy his mom decided should tell Kris about having fairy babies, which means that Michael Sarver has birthed babies in the past, which means Kris's brain is kind of exploding with the what-the-fuckness of the entire situation. Now he thinks he finally understands what Adam must've felt like when he met Madonna. This is blowing his entire mind.
"I'm glad your mom thought of me," Michael says after they've chosen seats in the very back corner of the shop, as far away from the prying ears of mean and strangely vindictive baristas as possible. "She tried to get Tom Cruise, I guess, but his people told her he'd only meet with you if you agreed to get your aura measured or whatever weird shit Scientologists get up to, so when she called me, I was happy to do it. Had to fly out here anyway to talk to some people interested in working with me, so it all worked out."
"Awesome," Kris says. He feels faintly sick to his stomach, but he started taking his cow tree root pills last week, and they've really cut down on the vomiting, so he's pretty sure it's not the pod making him sick, but the idea of Michael Sarver gergitating one. He does have a big mouth, though, and Kris very purposely is not thinking about how Michael got impregnated in the first place. This is already way TMTH. And then he realizes what Michael just said and--"Whoa. You mean Suri...?"
"Totally a pod." Michael nods earnestly. "It's kinda funny that News of the World was actually right about something for once, and they didn't even know it!"
"Yeah, funny." Kris takes a sip of coffee, studying Michael while trying not to seem like he's actually looking closely at the guy for the first time ever, because they did pretty much live together for a year, so Kris thinks he should've noticed any fairy-like qualities before now. Except, looking at Michael, he still doesn't really see it. He frowns. "I don't get it. I mean, the manual said that we were all, you know..." He trails off, not wanting to be rude, but seriously, Michael in no way resembles a tiny, pretty person. That's like the opposite of Michael Sarver.
"Pretty?" Michael says, laughing.
"No! No. I mean. Well. You're kind of tall for, you know, one of us, aren't you?" Kris says.
"We have some ogre in my family, a couple generations back," Michael says, sighing and looking slightly embarrassed. "It's actually why I went through with the whole--" He cuts himself off to mime throwing up into his hands. "--thing in the first place. We've been trying to strain out the ogre genes ever since my great-great grandfather's fascination led to the, uh, contamination of our DNA pool. But it turns out ogre is really hard to get rid of and my wife isn't fae, so I had to bite the bullet and do the artificial insemination thing with a full-fairy donor."
"Um, wow," Kris says. Now he really does want to throw up, but this actually explains a lot. A lot.
"Yeah," Michael agrees. "It was kind of rough, to be honest. Those pods don't come out easy or fast. That's why I tried so hard to warn you back when we first moved into the mansion. But then I realized I just looked like a homophobic dick, so I had to stop." He sighs, looking truly sorry. "I was worried this would happen. You and Adam. It was kinda obvious that y'all were inevitable, and you didn't know the consequences of it all. I mean, if you knew about the whole ungesting thing, would you have still got all freaky with Adam?"
They never really got to get very freaky to begin with, Kris thinks, but he shakes his head no. Michael doesn't need to know about how Adam was basically unconscious for the decidedly freak-lacking pod-making gay sex accident.
"Well," Michael says, patting Kris's hand comfortingly, "everything happens for a reason. Don't beat yourself up about it, man. Adam has those crazy elf magnetism powers so it's not entirely your fault. You know how elves are."
"Wait--there are elves? What kind of elves are we talking about? Like, Lord of the Rings elves, or like Keebler cookie elves?"
Michael just looks at him. "Does Adam look like a Keebler elf to you?"
"Yeah, that's a good point," Kris says. Adam is pretty much the opposite of a Keebler anything, plus he has this 'no cookies except in case of emergency' rule that would really get in the way of the Keeblers' raison d'etre. Kris feels dizzy with all this new information, not just about himself, but about the entire world as he knows it. There are so many things he never knew existed before and the entire universe seems to be turning itself inside out and upside down until Kris thinks he might actually faint like some distressed romance novel chick, only there aren't any velvet couches for him to recover gracefully on, so Kris guesses he better stay conscious. Plus, who knows what the angry baristas would do to his unconscious body.
"Ogres and fairies and elves," Kris says, shaking his head in amazement.
"Oh my," Michael agrees.
*
A tiny airplane with two PR people sitting across the aisle pretending to sleep probably isn't the best place to discuss the One Night In Kris affair, but Kris learned the hard way that giving people an escape route means they will probably take it first and ask questions later--or in Katy's case, not at all--even if they've known you since you were five feet tall and your brother the cheerleader was your main line of defense against the bullies who wanted to see if they could actually fit you into a locker or a trash can. (The answer was yes. A million times yes.) Not that he's bitter or anything, because it really is better this way and Katy will be happier, Kris thinks, with a fully-human partner who can control his urge to shove things up his ass, but a little benefit of the doubt might've been nice.
So it's maybe not the best place to have this discussion, but Kris needs to get it over with before anything else happens between him and Adam, and if he can do it in a venue where Adam is pretty much trapped and can't leave or yell or punch him in the face, which all things considered, Adam has every right to do, then Kris is going to take full advantage of these R. Kelly circumstances.
"I'm thinking of doing this kind of improv thing on the tour, where I cover 'Trapped in the Closet' but have the audience shout out suggestions for like, where I should be trapped and the different characters and who's sleeping with who and who's pregnant with whose baby and stuff."
"Really?" Adam looks mildly intrigued.
"No, that would be terrible. But say that I did. Just um, hypothetically, what would you think if we were on tour in, say, Milwaukee for example, and the R. Kelly improv ended up being all, I was trapped in Milwaukee with Adam / and then some jerkwad drugged our drinks / and now I'm pregnant / even though we totally used a condom."
Adam chokes on his vodka and Redbull and ends up downing the whole glass just to get himself to stop. He stares at Kris, eyes watering a little from the choking, and Kris thinks this is the part where Adam decks him for the whole taking advantage of Adam's inebriated state and accidentally impregnating himself thing, but instead Adam just says, "And this is all purely hypothetical?"
Kris shrugs and looks away. The clouds outside the airplane window are quite fascinating suddenly, so white and fluffy and reminiscent of the Care-A-Lot, which is a place Kris would really rather be right now, even if he had to deal with Cheer Bear, who Kris always wished would get lost in the Forest of Feelings and leave the rest of them in peace. At least Cheer Bear probably wouldn't hate Kris forever for using his dick as a glorified sex toy. Kris is pretty sure Cheer Bear doesn't even have a dick, so.
"If by 'hypothetical,'" Kris says, "you mean 'all completely true,' then yeah."
Adam is quiet for so long that Kris starts to think that this is it, time for him to get punched in the head no matter how many PR people are watching them, but then Adam touches the side of his neck softly and says, "Hey. C'mon Kris, it's okay. Just look at me."
Kris doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to, because he's pretty damned afraid of what he'll see, but he turns his head and looks at Adam anyway, and all he sees is, well, love. There's no other word for it, really. Adam looks--he looks amazing. Happy and beautiful and yeah, a little drunk and a little wired from the too-quick consumption of vodka and Redbull, but mostly happy and Kris thinks, maybe everything is going to be okay after all. It's hard to imagine anything else when Adam is looking at him like that, and then Adam's hand slides into his, holding on tight, and he says, "We'll talk about this later, when PR Chick Number Two isn't reading our lips and typing everything we say into her BlackBerry--yeah, I see you over there, Miss Sneaky, you're not fooling anyone!" He smiles slyly and squeezes Kris's fingers. "Plus, I think a Milwaukee re-enactment is kind of necessary, don't you? Only this time, I want to remember it."
Kris agrees, like, so freaking much, and getting through the long day of press is almost torture, it's almost worse than his month-long puking bout or the chapter in his manual on the Cow Shortage of 1899 entitled, "Cows Go Down A Lot Easier Than They Come Up," and the lengths to which desperate fairies went to replenish their stock. The manual had illustrations, and cow tree root pills or not, Kris spent several minutes throwing up his steak salad from lunch. But waiting to be alone with Adam, finally, when they're both free and partnerless and there aren't any secrets between them--that's much worse. Especially with Kelly Rippa shrieking at him for an hour just off the plane. Kelly Rippa makes everything worse.
But finally Kris gets back to the hotel, and when he opens his door, Adam is waiting for him there with a room service steak ready for Kris's consumption and that look still on his face, like Kris is exactly what he wanted all along, freaky pregnancy and all.
"I ordered you dinner," Adam says, smiling.
"Fuck dinner," Kris says, and pushes Adam down on the bed to do what he's been wanting to do since Adam passed out midway through their first time in Milwaukee--he kisses him until neither of them can breathe, until Adam's fingers wrap tight around the back of his neck and they're both hard and rubbing against each other, almost perfect if it weren't for the incredibly inconvenient clothes they're still wearing for some unimaginable reason. And either Adam is a mind-reader or he wants to fuck Kris just as much as Kris wants to be fucked--and damn, it's been a long time since Kris could actually consider that possibility, what with Katy's not-entirely-unfounded paranoid cockblocking ways of the past few months--because Adam flips them around quite suddenly, pinning Kris underneath him and getting their clothes off so fast that it's like they just melted right off or something.
"You're pretty good at that," Kris says, gasping a little as Adam's teeth slide down the line of his neck. Adam rests his cheek on Kris's belly for a moment, grins up at him and says, "Well, I'm an elf. We have special clothing-removal powers for these sorts of special occasions."
"Really?" Kris says, moaning a little when Adam starts lapping at the head of Kris's dick like some sort of cat with dick-displacement issues.
"Oh sure," Adam says, rolling his eyes. "It's in chapter seven of the elfin manual: 'How to Win Friends and Influence People by Making Them Instantly Naked.'"
"Well it could be!" Kris says, sliding his fingers into Adam's hair and thrusting his hips up in a hint that is not so much hint-like, but rather more obviously get-my-dick-in-your-mouth like. "All I know about elves is that they make me pregnant. You could totally have special clothing-removal powers that--"
And then Kris is too busy getting his dick sucked to continue this line of questioning, and the entire issue completely slips his mind by the time Adam pushes inside him, because really, Kris is already a slutty gay fairy, he can't be expected to be capable of actual thoughts when a sexy elf who he happens to also be totally in love with is fucking him. Especially since this time, he already has a full ungesting sack, no room at the inn for another podbaby, so Kris can fully enjoy the reaming he's been dreaming about since Milwaukee and possibly before, if he's being honest. Possibly from the first time he ever saw Adam touch a microphone stand in an unspeakable manner that couldn't be shown on network television.
And enjoy it, he does.
Afterwards, lying side-by-side on the bed enjoying the freedom that comes from not worrying about super-powered elf jizz because Kris is already pregnant, Adam leans up on one elbow to look down at him, his free hand tracing a path down the center of his chest to Kris's belly, pressing his palm flat against the warm skin there. "Are you really having my baby?" Adam says, smiling softly.
Kris smiles back. It's hard to resist Adam's elfin powers of happiness. "Well," Kris says, "It's a pod? Because there's this thing where I'm, like, a fairy? But basically, yeah." Kris is still smiling and he can't seem to stop. For the first time since this whole thing started back in cursed Milwaukee, Kris actually feels good about it. He's going to have a baby--pod, whatever--but more than that, he's going to have Adam's baby, a baby with the elf he's in love with, and despite all the insanity and Katy leaving him and the pounds upon pounds of vomit over the past few months, Kris can't help but think that this all worked out perfectly.
Adam laughs and leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, his hand still warm on Kris's stomach. "You're ungesting. That's so adorable." He pulls away to look at Kris, shaking his head a little ruefully. "Gorgeous, talented, and pocket-sized? I should've known you were a fairy," Adam says, and kisses him.
Ever After(ward)
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