Chapter 52: Chapter 52: Bear hug
Carlton’s face contorted into a melodramatic frown, his eyes wide with feigned betrayal. "What do you mean? I’m just telling you that what Kastiel is going through is the same as the side effects of eating ’Wombata Childbearer Papaberry’! Do you think I kidnapped him and forced-fed him that fruit?"
He snorted derisively, puffing out his chest in indignation. He thought he was off the hook, free from suspicion! But apparently, young Alaric had an uncanny knack for sniffing out trouble – constantly suspicious of his every move. A mischievous glint sparked in Carlton’s eye. Honestly, if this man before him was truly his Alaric, the one who showered him with affection and adoration (and delicious pastries), Carlton would have scooped him up and tossed him onto the bed for some much-needed ’punishment.’
"Have you forgotten?" Alaric pressed, voice laced with disbelief. "No one here even knows about the Wombata fruit! You’re the only one who has any knowledge of it, and now, boom! Just days after you arrive in this timeline, Kastiel suddenly finds himself munching on a mythical fruit that only you know exists! Doesn’t that mean you’re somehow involved? Intentionally or unintentionally?!"
Carlton paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Alaric had a point. It was just... how did Kastiel get his hands on the fruit? Where did it come from? Did he accidentally bring it through time like some kind of bizarre culinary glitch? He’d checked himself thoroughly before – no hidden pockets of erotic fruits in his body...
Carlton still had a craving for the Wombata Childbearer Papaberry fruit, indulging in its sweet, succulent flesh once a month. The somewhat agonizing side effects were a small price to pay for the benefits – his heat cycles became more predictable and regular, allowing him and Alaric to plan accordingly. Plus, it made their intimate moments all the more memorable!
However, when he skipped his monthly dose of the magical fruit, his heat periods turned as erratic as a drunken sailor on shore leave. It was just that Carlton distinctly recalled leaving a stash of the papaberries on his bedside table back in his future chamber.
So where did Kastiel’s mysterious Wombata fruit originate? Had Carlton’s time-traveling shenanigans somehow altered history?
Alaric’s words echoed in Carlton’s mind – no one else knew about this mythical fruit. But that couldn’t be right... or could it? Why did Alaric seem so clueless about its existence? And yet, in Carlton’s memories of the past, the fruit should be quite well-known among the nobles by now...
Suddenly, an unsettling realization crept over Carlton. The strange sensation he’d been ignoring since his arrival in the rearpasted its head, filling him with a growing sense of suspicion. Still, he maintained an air of nonchalance as he addressed Alaric.
"Perhaps you’re right," Carlton conceded with a casual shrug, even as suspicion gnawed at him like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. "My very presence here may have somehow conjured the fruit into existence, leading to Kastiel’s predicament. But I assure you, it wasn’t my fruit – I need it for myself, as it’s crucial for ensuring a strong and healthy pregnancy."
He punctuated this statement by absently stroking his perfectly toned abdomen, which showed no signs of the life growing within.
Alaric let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. The gesture sent ripples of disarray through his usually immaculate locks, somehow making him look even more devastatingly handsome than usual.
"Look," he said, "I’m not trying to point fingers at you this time. It’s more like... accusing the whole messed-up situation that landed you here in the first place and brought something totally out of whack into our timeline." Alaric gestured vaguely with his hands as if attempting to encompass the sheer absurdity of it all. "Something magical that shouldn’t exist...and definitely shouldn’t be causing all these crazy and absurd events!"
His gaze drifted down to Carlton’s stomach – still stubbornly flat despite its supposed miraculous contents. Honestly, Alaric was struggling with this whole ’man pregnancy’ thing on a fundamental level. But instead of voicing his disbelief (which would probably just make Carlton defensive), he kept it bottled up inside where it festered like an unidentifiable rash.
"And if Kastiel really did munch on one of those papaberries," Alaric continued cautiously, "then maybe this whole thing was destined to happen from the start." He paused for a moment, then added with a wry smile, "After all, you did mention that he and Rowan were going to have three children in the future."
Alaric had to admit, despite his royal status as crown prince, the idea of him and Carlton together still felt more natural than Kastiel and Rowan.
He’d been through so much lately; these past few days had been a whirlwind of unbelievable events – and he wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him his father Emperor was secretly a woman or that August, his half-brother who despised him suddenly fell head over heels for Carlton! Maybe this whole world was just one giant cosmic joke...
He cleared his throat, attempting to smooth over any awkwardness. "Sorry if I’ve been sounding like a paranoid conspiracy theorist," he added gently, trying hard to sound polite as his mother would want him to be. "It’s just...everything just feels so...unexpected..."
Instead of diving deeper into the existential crisis unfolding before them, Carlton seized the moment when Alaric’s apology left him momentarily vulnerable. With a speed that belied his hulking frame, he launched himself at Alaric in a koala-like embrace, squeezing the air out of his lungs with an enthusiasm that could only be described as "overzealous."
"Sigh," Carlton sighed dramatically, his voice taking on an exaggeratedly sweet tone despite his usual gruff demeanor. "Hearing all this over and over again is making me tired. Stop accusing me like I’m some sort of villainous mastermind, darling~"
Alaric was perfectly fine with physical contact – hell, he often craved it – even from someone who seemed determined to crush him with affection. But Carlton’s displays of saccharine sweetness always sent shivers down his spine. It was like watching a grizzly bear trying to do ballet; undeniably powerful but utterly disconcerting. He endured the hug stoically - as one would expect from a future Emperor, while internally screaming for someone to hand him smelling salts and maybe a stiff drink.
Carlton’s words, however, hit a nerve. He was right; this conversation had become a broken record stuck on repeat. Alaric felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he realized the extent of his own repetitive questioning. In an awkward display of guilt-induced affection (and possibly just to reduce the force of the rib-crushing hug), he hugged him back, patted Carlton’s back awkwardly and mumbled, "I’m sorry... I will learn to be more mature and wise from now on..."
Carlton nodded enthusiastically, lost in thought. If young Alaric matured into a wiser soul, would that mean his future self – the one who seemed perpetually stuck in adolescence – might change too? A wave of bittersweet longing washed over him for both his husband and their children. But like all good bears with secrets hidden deep within their furry chests, Carlton kept it all bottled up inside while continuing to squeeze Alaric with the unwavering grip of a panda clinging to its bamboo stalk.
Tristan, meanwhile, was having an existential crisis of epic proportions. He watched the scene unfold before him with a bewildered expression that could only be described as "confused puppy meets cosmic horror."
"Who am I?" he pondered aloud to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "Why am I here? And is this world actually just one giant rectangle?"
If Tristan were in the modern world, he’d have immediately called every mental health hotline known to man and demanding immediate assistance – or at least a really strong cup of chamomile tea and a good therapist. The past few days had been filled with bizarre occurrences, but this...this was next-level weirdness.
"Wombata Childbearer Papaberry?" he muttered incredulously. "Is that even real fruit? And who on earth came up with such an atrocious name?!"
But then Carlton dropped the bombshell: pregnant Duke Carlton! Pregnant?! Like...with a baby?!
PREGNANT?!?!? A MAN?!?! What kind of sorcery was this?!
His jaw dropped so hard it threatened to unhinge itself from its moorings. A man! Pregnant?! It defied all logic! All reason! All known laws of physics and biology!
And to make matters worse, Alaric didn’t even bat an eye at Carlton’s outlandish claim. He didn’t correct him, he didn’t question him, he just...accepted it.
Tristan felt a wave of despair wash over him. Had his beloved Crown Prince fallen so deeply into the clutches of this bizarre Duke that he had lost all sense of reality? Was there no hope for salvation from this pit named Carlton?! His heart ached as he watched them hug in silence – their world warped and twisted by some unknown force – while Tristan himself was sucked further and further down the rabbit hole of madness.
He could only sit there silently, watching with growing horror as his carefully constructed worldview crumbled around him like a poorly built sandcastle in the face of a tsunami.
Alaric suddenly felt a shiver crawl up his spine, like someone had just given him the cold shoulder – literally. He glanced around, expecting to see a ghost or maybe just a particularly chilly draft, and landed on Tristan. The poor guy looked like he’d seen the apocalypse and lost all hope in humanity... and Alaric was pretty sure that wasn’t an exaggeration after what they’d just witnessed.
Tristan stared at them with eyes so vacant they could have been staring into the abyss itself. Alaric’s heart sank as realization dawned: He had completely forgotten about Tristan! It was like he’d become invisible to everyone except Carlton who seemed determined to smother him in affection (or possibly bear hug-induced bodily harm).
With practiced grace, Alaric gently extricated himself from Carlton’s surprisingly strong grip - which sounded more painful than it actually was thanks to some strategically placed cushions on their throne room chairs. Unfortunately for Alaric, this only fueled Carlton’s desire for physical contact even further. He tightened his embrace with alarming enthusiasm, causing a distinct "crack" sound somewhere deep within Alaric’s internal structure.
Alaric gritted his teeth, enduring the pain like a champ or maybe just someone who really didn’t want to upset Carlton. He decided to play it cool for now, sacrificing his own comfort in exchange for peace and quiet – or at least until he could find a way to escape this furry bear trap.
"Tristan," Alaric began, trying to sound casual despite the fact he felt like he’d just been run over by a runaway carriage. "Regarding what you said earlier...what did Father Emperor talk to you about two days ago?"
