Prompt 102 -- Baby

Title: Realmspeaker
Genre: Urban fantasy
Characters: Farrel, Stasia, Jayson
Prompt: 102 ~ Baby
Word Count: Approx. 1077
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Type: Series
Summary: Farrel pays Stasia a visit.
Warnings: Mild language, cheesy innuendos

*

August 5, 2059
Ashfield Acres, Ashfall, New York

"Hmph." Stasia's pretty little nose perked upwards as Jayson reset the balls for the break. "So much for keeping me company. I should've known you boys were just here for the pool table."

Chuckling to himself, Jayson lifted the rack from the table and joined Farrel at the other end. "What, you thought I was friends with this grouch because of his personality? Everyone knows Brett has the only private table in town. Why else is anyone going to want to spend time with Farrel--well, besides his hot ass, that is."

Farrel rolled his eyes. Should've expected that from a guy who'd announced himself by poking Farrel in the back with a pool cue and promising he was 'just happy to see him'. "Hey, keep your mouth shut if you want to keep your pool privileges."

"Shut up and break, Far."

"Whatever." He rubbed the cue against the ridge of his thumb a couple of times, then let it fly. A single stripe rolled into a pocket... followed by two solids. "Fuck."

Jayson snickered. "Christ, that's probably the worst break I've seen--and I've played with Kenneth."

Farrel glared at him. God, he needed some new friends--or at least, he would have if he'd been the sort of person who gave a shit. "I'm sure you have 'played' with Kenneth."

"Nah--I tried, but the little guy scares easy." He tried for a bank-shot and scratched; a sadistic sort of glee welling in his chest, Farrel pulled up one of the sunken solids. "No skin off my back, though. Hey Stasia, what are you doing tonight, babe? Care to come back to Chateau Jayson? I have a pet python who really wants to meet you."

"And by 'python', obviously he means 'maggot'."

"Hey, we've talked about this--opinions come at the cost of a blowjob apiece."

Back on the couch, Stasia smiled. God, she was a good sport--first all of Brett's bullshit and now this. "Think you can handle all this, cowboy?"

"Why not? Farrel obviously managed okay." Ugh, why did everybody have to keep bringing that up? So what if that little incident predated his relationship with Lucia? So what if both girls were cool with everything and nobody had it in their heads that it had been his idea? It didn't make him any less ashamed of it, if only on account of his own unfathomable stupidity. "Hey, did I mention that I have a pregnancy fetish?"

She giggled. "No, but somehow I'm not surprised."

Farrel fired the eleven into a corner pocket and smirked. "Stasia, Jayson has a people fetish."

"Hell yeah." Supporting himself with the cue, Jayson leaned back and winked Stasia's way. "Too bad the baby gets in the way of your arm, hon. Maybe we should do something all three of us can enjoy."

Farrel cringed. "Jayson!"

"What? I was talking about darts." A devious look in his eye, Jayson chalked up his cue and made that face he always wore while talking to... well, anybody. "And then after that, maybe some good old-fashioned chick-in-the-middle sex."

Farrel groaned and resumed studying the table, but a clear shot at the thirteen wasn't enough to mask Stasia's cackle. "I could go for that. Farrel?"

She was teasing, but it hardly mattered. He made the shot and sighed. "Girlfriend, remember?"

"Not like you could leave any proof at this point, Mr. Monogamy." Shaking his head, Jayson glanced toward the newly-weighted pocket. "Damn, when did you get to be good at this game?"

Farrel shrugged. "You said it yourself; my dad owns the only table in town. What else do you think I do with it?"

"I don't know. Didn't we once get drunk and make out on this thing just to piss your dad off?"

"That was the air hockey table."

"Right--we broke one of its legs, didn't we?" A glaze of triumphant recollection fell over Jayson's face; Farrel tried to ignore it. "I miss that table. The air felt so nice against my back."

Back on the couch, Stasia moaned. "You know, as hot as the thought of you two clawing at each other is, it would be nice if you could hurry up and join me over here."

Nodding, Jayson put down the stick and crossed the table, then propelled himself over Brett's couch and sunk into the cushions. A little more mindful of the furniture, Farrel followed. "Feeling okay? Brett and Libby aren't stranding you with babysitting duty all the time, are they?" After all this time, he did feel a little bad about the fact that Stasia had been forced to shack up with the man who'd pushed her into this in the first place; if it hadn't been for Lucia, he would have swapped her for Shellee in a heartbeat.

"No, Libby's pretty good about taking Shane with her when she can." A fond sparkle crossed her pretty eyes. He kind of hoped the baby had her eyes. They beat his--Brett's. "He's such a sweetie. Must feel weird to have a new baby brother at your age, though."

"It'll get even weirder when we get to see Shane playing with his new niece or nephew," agreed Jayson. "God, I'm glad my parents are a couple of frigid old farts."

Lucky bastard. Must've been nice, not being a Speaker--living outside Brett's obsessive reproductive regime. Jayson could father all the useless XYs he wanted. Hell, he didn't have to father any brats at all. "Wonder where you came from, then."

"The stork--duh."

"Yeah, yeah." Farrel heaved himself off the couch and took a step toward Stasia. Least he could do, really, seeing as he'd knocked her up--even if Brett had taken the liberty of getting him drunk out of his mind first. "I'm going to make myself a sandwich. Want one?"

"I do," piped up Jayson. Farrel ignored him.

Grinning, Stasia reached for his hand and let him pull her to her feet. "I'd better come with; they reorganized some of the cupboards."

"Okay--wait, when did you get that big?"

Really. He didn't remember it being quite... well, this.

Jayson snorted. "Observant."

"Sounds like somebody needs to visit me more often." She ruffled his hair, then waddled past him on her way toward the door, a thoughtful hand resting on her bulge. "Maybe don't wait a month before next time, at least; otherwise I might not be the only one waiting on you."