Jelly Babies

Just when you thought it couldn\'t possibly get any weirder or more complicated, here it is. This begins the final story in the \"Sugar Hearts\" trilogy. If you haven\'t read the other two (\"Sugar Hearts\" and \"Candy Kisses\") then...well, I was going to give a summary here, but trying to figure out how to explain it makes my head spin. Read the other two stories before you attempt this one. Or prepare to be seriously baffled.

Jelly Babies are a type of British candy, sort of like Gummi Bears, only shaped like little people.

Love,
Falcon


Jelly Babies


Prologue


Marzi’s lashes dragged across the pillowcase as he pried his eyes open. The bright light streaming in through the bedroom curtains told him it was already morning, and a quick glance at the clock confirmed that he’d overslept. Again. Groaning, Marzi kicked aside the blankets, and forced himself to sit up. It wasn’t fair. For the last three months, he’d sworn off clubbing, sex, and all mind-altering treats. But recently, each new day found him more tired than the last. God must be having a laugh. After years of abusing his body in every possible fashion, Marzipan Penicandey was going to die from a bad case of good health.

Previously, Marzi would have blamed his exhaustion on Pepper and Nicholas, who seemed determined to make up for lost time by having sex at every possible opportunity. But about a week ago, all that stopped. Initially, Marzi worried that they’d had some sort of fight, but the looks they exchanged, and the touches they shared, still conveyed the love they felt for each other. They just weren’t fucking like bunnies anymore.

Combing his fingers through his hair, Marzi stalled for time. True, he’d overslept, but with Easter behind them, things were slow at Sugar Hearts. No need to rush through the morning. Instead, his gaze lingered on the journal which lay open on the bedside table. No longer able to speak, and still struggling to learn rudimentary sign language, Nicholas used the book to write down things he wanted to say to Pepper, like love letters never sent. Curious, Marzi scanned the most recent entry.

My dearest, darling Pepper

I enjoyed our walk yesterday. Who would have thought of stopping in a spice shop, not to buy anything, but just to look and smell? At first, I felt a little self-conscious. But the way you pulled the lid off the first jar, and thrust your face into the opening, taking a great, deep breath...you seemed like a little girl. I couldn’t keep from laughing. And, pretty soon, I was right there with you, smelling everything: cinnamon, cloves, dried lemons, chipotle. Everything. I’d never felt so aware of the perfumes that flavor even our most ordinary days. I’d never felt so completely alive.

I know you think that you’ve cost me my voice. But you haven’t. When I’m with you, my soul sings. It sings of joy and of despair, of hope and of fear, and all the other passions you awakened in me. It sings in notes too sublime for human ears. And yet, sometimes, when you smile at me in a certain way, or take my hand in yours – sometimes, I think you do hear me, as no one else can. As no one else ever could. And that’s when I know that I’ve lost nothing at all.

“Romantic idiot,” Marzi muttered. But, for a moment, he remembered the call of another soul, which hadn’t sung to him so much as it had reverberated with the pounding drumbeat of obsession and desire. Shaking his head, Marzi yanked his thoughts away from Kale. And noticed three additional sentences hastily scribbled at the bottom of Nicholas’s entry.

About the other thing. We should tell Marzi. As soon as possible.

“Huh.” No longer able to postpone the inevitable, Marzi set the journal down, and got to his feet. But as he made his way to the closet, he couldn’t help wondering what Nicholas and Pepper needed to tell him. Maybe they’d decided to get married. Marzi pictured Pepper confronting some poor bewildered minister, and trying to explain why, despite all appearances, this wasn’t a same-sex union. That would definitely be worth the price of admission.

Squeezing himself into a pair of leather jeans, Marzi swore as the button popped off when he tried to fasten them. Maybe he should wake Pepper and let her try to deal with this goddamn morning. But lately, Pepper wasn’t exactly adding to his serenity. Two days ago, in an attempt to deal with a splitting headache, Marzi had broken his self-imposed prohibition long enough to have a glass of wine. When Pepper found out, she’d nearly taken his head off. And then utterly refused to explain why one glass of wine was so deserving of her wrath.

Marzi discarded the leather jeans, and replaced them with a looser, denim pair. Then, after choosing a shirt, he headed for the kitchen.

Nicholas was already up, laboring over the batter for a batch of blueberry pancakes. As Marzi passed behind him, he gave Nicholas’s ass a mischievous pinch, and Nicholas slapped him without turning around – not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to remind Marzi that Nicholas knew who was who, and that just because Marzi shared his body with Pepper, that didn’t mean he also got to share Nicholas’s. It truly amazed Marzi, the way Nicholas could always tell who he was dealing with, even when Pepper and Marzi tried to imitate each other in order to trick him. Maybe love wasn’t so blind after all. Maybe it was just the opposite.

After grabbing some syrup from the refrigerator, Marzi settled in at the kitchen table. At least he could look forward to some pancakes. No morning could be entirely bad if it involved pancakes. As Nicholas dropped the first dollop of batter onto the pan, Marzi inhaled, anticipating the familiar scent. But his enjoyment lasted only a moment. Instead of increasing his appetite, the smell of cooking pancakes made his stomach lurch. Clamping his hand over his mouth, Marzi jumped up from the table, and raced toward the bathroom, where he proceeded to lose what remained of last night’s dinner.

Oh dear. Awakened by his distress, Pepper’s voice whispered through Marzi’s head. Oh dear, oh dear...

“What the fuck is going on?” Marzi demanded, when he’d regained enough breath to speak. Then he bent back over the toilet and spat, attempting to purge the lingering taste of bile from his mouth.

Nicholas, who stood in the bathroom doorway, still clutching his bowl of pancake batter, looked relieved that he couldn’t be expected to do any explaining.

“Well?”

It’s like this, big brother. I’m – that is, you’re – well, I guess we both are.

We’re what?

We’re pregnant.

Marzi blinked. When that failed to bring him any clarity, he blinked again. And then he realized that he could blink until he went blind, but it still wouldn’t help him wrap his mind around what Pepper had just said. What the--? I can’t be pregnant! I’m a guy. Holy fuck, I am still a guy, aren’t I? Anxiously, Marzi reached for his genitals.

You’re still a guy, Pepper reassured. Mostly. A guy with a womb. Oh Marzi, I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear that I didn’t. It just happened.

But how?

I’ve always wanted a child. And the way I feel about Nicholas, it only made me want one more. When we make love...I kind of lose control over my magic. Not much, not enough to hurt either of us, so I didn’t think it mattered. But our bodies run on sugar. It’s in our blood, in our muscles, in our bones. Without me knowing it, my magic acted on my deepest desires. It changed you. Changed us.

Nicholas set down the pancake batter, and crossed over to the bathroom sink, where he filled a glass with water. Then he carried the glass over to Marzi. Gratefully, Marzi accepted it. And, after rinsing his mouth, he also accepted Nicholas’s assistance with the task of standing up. How long have you known?

I’ve suspected for a little while. But we weren’t positive until last week.

Understanding dawned on Marzi. That was why you got so upset about the wine. Because it might hurt the baby. Pepper, you should have told me! Why didn’t you tell me?

I wanted to. Truly, I did. But I was afraid. Normal pregnancy is difficult enough, and this – I don’t know what this is going to be like. I thought that you might want to...

She couldn’t bring herself to say it. But a sudden, graphic image flashed inside Marzi’s head, and he nearly heaved again. “Abort it?” he gasped.

A look of horror claimed Nicholas’s expression, and Marzi hastened to clarify his outburst. “The two of you really thought that I’d insist on getting an abortion? That I’d let some complete stranger cut me open and suck out my own sister’s unborn child, like it was some inconvenient growth? Fuck! I know I’ve done my share of irresponsible and selfish things, but fuck!”

Nicholas didn’t believe that. And, in my heart, I didn’t either. I knew you’d do anything that I asked you to. But I can’t think straight about this. I want it so badly, big brother. So badly.

And you shall have it. God knows, I’ve taken so much from you. This is the least I can give back. But if we’re going to do it, we need to do it right. How can I possibly explain my situation to a doctor?

You won’t need to. When I told Nicholas that I thought I might be pregnant, he got in touch with an old friend. She’s going to handle everything.

That could only mean one thing. Sylvia. Does Kale--?

No one has said a word to Kale. No one will. She’ll just come here on her days off to do all the necessary prenatal stuff. She’s already been here once. That’s when Nicholas and I found out for sure. Pepper giggled, like a thousand tiny bubbles popping under his skin. You never told me she has such a big crush on you.

The news that Sylvia harbored any romantic feelings for him proved to be one surprise too many and it bounced out of Marzi’s head as if it had hit a rubber wall. Don’t change the subject. This is about our baby. Fuck, there’s a phrase I never thought I’d say to my sister. Marzi shook his head. Just for the sake of clarity, who are the parents? You and Nicholas?

I’m not exactly sure. I don’t have any physical form. You don’t have any eggs. Nicholas’s sperm didn’t have a proper path to travel. There’s no way of knowing what my magic did – what it created, what it transformed, what it carried from one place to another. The only thing I can say is that the baby belongs to us. All three of us.

So I’m going to be...a father. Tentatively, like reaching out to pet a dog that might bite, Marzi placed his hand just below his stomach, where he imagined his womb was. A life. He was carrying a tiny, human life. A life which would eventually be born. A life which he would love until the day he died. Joy and terror clashed inside him, then canceled each other out, leaving only a deep sense of awe. As he stared straight ahead, trying to comprehend the immensity of what was about to happen, his vision clouded, obscured by gathering tears. But even when they began to run down his cheeks, he couldn’t move to wipe them away. He could only stare, and stare, and stare. “Holy fuck.”

Gently, Nicholas placed his hand against Marzi’s, and nodded, as if to say that he’d felt the same way when he first found out.

It’s going to be alright, big brother. It really is.

I know. I just – how far along are we?

A little over two months. We’ll start to show soon.

Finally, Marzi managed to raise his arm, and wipe his tears on his sleeve. “I guess I’d better try to stay properly nourished. Let’s go into the kitchen and see if we can find something that doesn’t make me puke.”

Nicholas seemed to feel that was a good idea, because he retrieved the pancake batter, and headed out of the bathroom. Following him, Marzi couldn’t resist adding an impish observation. “And don’t look so damn smug. If I liked being a top, you’re the one who’d be pregnant right now.”