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“And what do you think about that?” I asked her, as the elevator let us off on our hall.
“I think it would be fun. But I’m not sure it can happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because it hasn’t happened yet. I’ve been off of birth control since I was kidnapped, and we definitely do it all the time,” she said, as I set her down inside our apartment, which was now much less web-decorated, and half set up for me, half set up for her. Her dogs rushed up to bark at both of us, and Mercy started gnawing on my leg.
“So you’re saying you’d like me to start using my sperm on you?”
Sloane blinked at me. “. . . yes?”
“There was some hesitation there.”
“That was the gap where I didn’t ask you what the fuck we’d been doing all this time.”
“Practicing.”
She stood still for a moment. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, Nia’n’an.”
“I’m not,” I assured her.
She took a deep breath, held it, and then released it in arush. “Okay. So. If you haven’t been giving me sperm, what’s that stuff you’ve been putting in me?”
“It’s very similar, it just does not contain genetic material. Just as all of your internal lubrication does not contain eggs.”
“So you can just decide whether or not to use sperm, is what you’re saying?”
“Well, I have to express it every month or so, so I do not become injured. It’s how I knew I’d become sexually mature, several years ago.” I went into the kitchen to retrieve my latest packet of web-wrapped sperm and brought it out to show her. “I assumed you’d ask me when you were interested in seeing it—is this not how humans work?”
Sloane put a hand to her mouth. “No. No it is not,” she said, and tilted her head. “Nia’n’an, where have you been hiding your sperm packets all this time?”
“On top of the fridge. Where the dogs can’t reach.”
Every once in a while, I could tell Sloane was thinking about being mad at me—or at least she was strongly confused—but then she did what she always did when we were confronted with our differences yet again: she laughed. “So I’ve been worried about being infertile, while you’ve been holding back your boys?” she said, her voice rising in an amused arc.
“It seems so?” I said, in slight apology.
She lightly groaned. “It is such a good thing that I love you, Nia’n’an.”
“And I love you, Sloane, truly,” I said, looking betweenthe packet and her. “Are you saying you would like to have children with me?” I would give it to her now, if so. I could imagine no greater honor.
She nodded fiercely. “Yes, you great big, incredibly sweet goof.”
“Then let us—” I reached for her, ready to pick her up and carry her into our webbing room.
“Hang on,” she said, putting out one hand. “My dad’s concern was that things might not be safe. He had his research goons do their thing—there’s never been an Arachnaea and human mating before. Which is why he gave this to me,” she said, and then pulled something out of her coat pocket. It was a vial with pink tinged liquid inside.
“What is that?”
“It’s a compatibility-izer. A little science, a little magic, and he modeled it on a computer as big as his first house. He explained it to me, but I didn’t really pay attention—something about egg sacs versus amniotic fluid—only we’re both supposed to drink it, and thirty minutes later everything will be good to go for a week’s window. One baby that won’t hurt me, guaranteed, although I’ll probably need a C-section.”
I looked between the bottle, the packet of sperm, and then her. “Can I give you a new one?” I asked with excitement.
She grinned at me and cracked open the vial. “I’d expect nothing less.”
SLOANE
“You should’ve told me you wanted children earlier,” Nia’n’an said, once we’d both taken my father’s magic potion and I’d set a timer on my phone.
