* * *
“And you’resureEarth food isn’t gonna like, immediately poison you? ’Cause I have no idea what I would do with an alien corpse,” Jude asked, only half-kidding, as he considered the two boxes of Pop-Tarts he had in hand.
“Yes, I am sure,” Al said. “Do not feel concern. Besides, even if my real body does not tolerate Earth food very much, I am in a human body. It does not work quite the same as human bodies that are not disguises, but it will make it more easier to consume Earth food. Like how I am less affected by the too much oxygen in your air because of my pretend human lungs.”
“There’s too much oxygen in the air?” Jude asked with a frown.
“Yes. It makes me feel relaxation and calmness, but it is not always good for thinking, so it is probably good to have pretend human lungs. But this is not relevant to our prior conversation. Can I have a food item now, thank you please? My stomach is empty and it is not very agreeable.”
“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I would have gotten you something to eat earlier, but I didn’t really know if you, like… ate.” Jude shook his head dismissively and held up the boxes. “We don’t have a whole lot in the house—we need to go grocery shopping—but we at least have Pop-Tarts. Which flavor would you like: strawberry or brown sugar?”
“These flavor categories are meaningless to me,” Al said pleasantly.
Jude laughed. “Fair enough. How about one of each, then?”
He didn’t wait for a response, opening a package of each immediately. Two mismatched Pop-Tarts found their way into the toaster, and down they went to be toasted.
Al watched the ongoing events with his head tilted to the side, bemused as always.
“What is this device?” he asked, stepping up to the counter in order to stare directly into the toaster.
“It’s a toaster. It heats food. Makes it like, crunchy and shit.”
Al made a “hmm” sound and continued to stare at the toaster with rapt interest.
“So I was thinking,” Jude began, going over to the fridge to pull out a jug of milk. “We’re gonna hafta figure out how to get materials for you to make your fancy space cell phone, right?”
“Mhm,” Al said, attention still on the toaster. Jude opened the milk, sniffed it, instantly balked, and placed it back inside the fridge.
“I checked the news when you were getting dressed”—he had lent Al some of his clothes, but even his biggest pieces fit Al too snugly, which made it complete and utter torture for Jude to have to look at him and not constantly touch—“and I didn’t see anything about the crash site. Either no one has found it yet, or they’re keeping it super hush-hush.”
“Mhm.”
“If you know the English words for the things you need, I could help you make a list. I’m guessing, though, that whatever you need is going to be technology that we won’t be able to get just by swinging by the electronic store, so my idea was that we could maybe try to pass you off as an engineering student at my university. You’d have access to a bunch of techy bullshit I wouldn’t know how to get my hands on otherwise. It might be a little tricky, but I’ve got a friend who makes cash on the side by making fake IDs and documents, and he doesn’t ask a lot of questions, so I think we could make it work.”
“All right.”
“Al.” Jude crossed his arms. “Are you listening to a single word I’m saying?”
“Okay,” Al said, causing Jude to roll his eyes, albeit fondly. He was about to admonish him further, but the toaster chose that moment to pop, which startled poor Al so badly that he let out a high-pitched yelp and jumped nearly a full foot in the air. In his Greek god human body disguise, it was, to put it mildly, fucking hilarious, and Jude burst out laughing.
“Sorry, I should have warned you about that,” he said between chuckles. Al’s glare—about as menacing as a kitten’s—did not make it any less funny.
“I guess breakfast is extra scary this morning, huh,” Ezra said, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen so suddenly that it was Jude’s turn to yelp and jump in surprise.
“Jesus,” said Jude, putting a hand to his heart, and fuck, how long had Ezra been standing there listening in?
“Nah, not Jesus,” Ezra said with a grin, “just me.”
Ezra yawned and stretched his arms over his head. It looked like he’d just gotten out of bed—he was shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, and his hair was flat on one side and sticking out at all angles on the other. He did not look like a man who had just learned about the existence of extraterrestrial life from eavesdropping on his roommate while he made breakfast in the kitchen, and that assurance, as minute as it was, helped Jude relax.
“Apologies, dude,” Al said quickly. “We, er, do not have such machines in Greece.” He cast a distrusting glance at the toaster, as though waiting for whatever trick it was going to play on him next.
Ezra blinked at him.
“No toasters in Greece, huh?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Jude resisted the urge to facepalm. “Well, I could see why one would freak you out, then. Heck, they get me sometimes if I’m not paying attention, and I’ve had toasters my whole life.”
He stepped between Jude and Al and took a package of brown sugar Pop-Tarts out of its box, then made his way back toward the door. “I’ll let you love birds get on with your lessons on kitchen appliances,” he said, and saluted them with his Pop-Tart.
