“Oh, I was kidnapped by a baby flink who thought I’d make a great—”
The baby appears on my shoulder and immediately latches on to my head, wrapping all their arms around my chin and forehead. They chirp happily, chittering about whatever they need to tell me—probably an update on their life since the last time they held me hostage.
“Amazing, baby. You did that all by yourself?” I don’t know what they’re saying, but there are only a few responses appropriate for children, and all of them are supportive and nurturing.
The baby chirrups happily, and I reach up to pet the top of their head. They purr, settling in, and quiet down. “Good baby. I know your parents know where you are, right?”
I get a chirp that I am taking to mean yes, and then I look back to Romily, who’s staring at me with a delighted look on his face. I don’t blame him; the baby is adorable once you get over being scared of a possibly wild animal.
“This is the baby. They usually appear if I mention them because I’m their new favorite perch. Did you know it’s illegal to dislodge a baby flink from their perch because it’s so stressful for them that it could kill them?”
Romily shakes his head in awe, and I nod to affirm what I just said.
“It’s true. So, this baby found me in my apartment and took me on an adventure through the universe and other realms. We visited dinosaurs in the Andromeda galaxy, a cotton candy forest, and a variety of other planets. We ended up in Hell, where Darcy tracked us down.”
Romily sends a message and Darcy reads it for him. “What’s their name?”
I shrug. “It’s probably something I couldn’t say even if I knew it. They speak solely in chirps, and the universal translation spell doesn’t work for me with that.”
Darcy chirps at the baby, and it chirps back, then he grunts. “They said their name is” he makes a chirping noise “and that it’s fine to call them baby.”
Another man joins us, coming up from the basement. He’s a sweaty, buff ginger with more freckles than me and a Viking beard with braids and beads and the whole nine yards. His hair hangs down in two calf length braids, and he stares at me with surprise in his purple eyes.
“Woah, those are really lavender, aren’t they? I’m Elijah.” I introduce myself to him.
No one says anything, but the baby flink suddenly chirps and it’s a disappointed sound, then they disappear. I guess they were only here for a short visit. It’s sweet that they think of me when I’m thinking of them.
Phones and watches sound off, and Romily bounces over to the ginger, stroking his sweaty chest with an adoring smile. Fox stands on the guy’s other side with an arm around his shoulders, while Darcy explains in his Romily voice, “This is our son, Bellamy!”
Romily smiles brightly, and Bellamy sighs like he’s given up on life altogether. “I’m Bellamy Jones. I am not their son except by unofficial official adoption.”
Darcy sets his hand on the back of my neck and stokes my skin as he fiddles with my longish curly hair. It’s been a while since I got a haircut, but Bellamy’s braids could be my new life goals. The man is hott with a double T.
“I hear Romily and Fox like to adopt people. I’ve already been welcomed to the family, so I guess that makes us cousinsor something. You ok?” He looks… well, he looks like he’s seen a few things and he’s not as good as he could be but he’s making shit work and maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, so I amend it. “Been working out or was there a ghost down there?”
“Working out,” he explains briefly, then turns his attention fully to Darcy, staring at him with an intense familiarity. “You ready for the first official day?”
A disparaging snort escapes Darcy and his hand on the back of my neck tightens. “Th’ain’t no way to git ready to rule the fucking world, Red.” He draws in a sharp breath, and cusses with more vitriol than I’ve heard from him yet. “Motherfucker—we’re gonna have to work with Santanos.”
Bellamy hangs his head for a moment, chin touching his chest. “Edovard would be disappointed if we didn’t.”
“So that’s why he calls me Peach.”
Romily releases Bellamy and grins at me, indicating for me to go on, but I don’t know what he wants to know. “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” I confess, curious.
Fox squeezes Bellamy’s shoulders and follows Romily as he makes his way back to the stove. “He wants to know who calls you Peach and why,” he explains.
Darcy’s fingers tighten in my hair again, but he doesn’t pull, he’s just holding it.
“Sometimes my inside thoughts come out of my mouth. You can usually just ignore them. Most people do. I just realized why Darcy calls me Peach.” I shrug, because it’s not that interesting.
Romily stirs our breakfast and turns off the stove as Fox asks, “Why?”
I lean in close to Darcy, and tip my head forward so everyone can see the top of my head. I run a finger through the sun-bleached locks. “My hair’s the color of a ripe Peach if you’re looking at it from the top. Bellamy’s hair is apple red on top.”
Fox and Romily must’ve been together a long time, because without looking at each other, their expressions match perfectly. They look between me and Bellamy at the same time, and then the synchronization breaks as Romily grins widely, typing into his phone, and Fox turns away, pulling open a cabinet and grabbing a stack of plates.
“Darcy, do you give nicknames to people who get on their knees for you?” Darcy says that in his Romily voice; he’s reading it from his phone.
