-1A/N: Yeah, I'm not into these things every chap, but sorry for the weird transition last time. A friend was reading it, and holy heck, the divider obviously got caught in one of Poof's killer farts. Hopefully it won't be too annoying while it waits to be fixed.
Anti-Cosmo was sitting in his mass, gray-scaled living room, his knees knocking absently in indecision. The thought had entered his mind the minute he had left Jorgen and hung like a pendulum on his conscience. On one wing, he couldn't even bear to look at himself for thinking such a thing. Sure he was evil, but he was never intentionally cruel, especially toward Anti-Wanda. She was his touchstone of reality, possibly the only likeness he had to Cosmo in the fact that he loved his wife completely. She was kind and unassuming, dull and never asking him the why, only the how.
The other wing, however, wanted nothing more than to tell her this one lie. Anti-Cosmo wrung his hands and watched the door of his bedroom. He watched and he waited for the moment when it would open. He needed to yell at someone, throw something into oblivion, do anything to clear his heavy mind and make a decision that should be all to easy. The only problem Anti-Cosmo had was in seeing which choice was supposed to be easier. Anti-Wanda's snores caused an irritated scheme to fall upon Anti-Cosmo's face and he rose, taking one last look at the door before floating off.
He could, and probably should, have told her then. The longer he waited to make up his mind, the harder it would be to explain. Plans were easy enough, especially for him, but destroying the innocent trust, the thoughtless obedience which Anti-Wanda held for him scared him senseless. If it had been any other idea, she would have went along without the slightest hesitation and he would have let her. But could he deceive her knowing fully well that she would have said no?
For the longest of times, he considered his choices. Every second of his ponderings held the looming stigmas, the flashing 'right' and glaring 'wrong' which kept him annoyed and restless. The truth was damning, the lie was unforgivable, and the answer was wavering so wildly upon the edge of life and death that Anti-Cosmo knew in an instant what it was to be mortal. He was shaken from his reveries by the creaking door and shattered by the slow embrace circling his neck.
There was the strangest sound of silence that made the entire room scream in protest. Anti-Cosmo lost his senses, felt everything as it should never be felt. He was suddenly painfully aware of how his entire body was held, how his tongue settled in his mouth, how he breathed onto his wife's crossed arms.
"Cozzie? Are ya thinking again, hon?" Anti-Wanda asked, leaning a bit to look into eyes. She didn't know it then, but she had calmed the voices in his head.
"Yes, dear…Cozzie is thinking very much about the baby," he said, taking off his monocle and cleaning it thoroughly on his shirt.
The female anti-fairy brightened. "The Anti-Poof's comin'!?! I feels better than that Tom Cruise fella on Oprah!" she exclaimed, hugging his head to her body and burying her cheek into his hair.
"Well, I don't know…" said Anti-Cosmo, shifting slightly from his confused wife. He could have stopped it then, as the twinge of guilt told him to, but he continued. "We might have a problem with the baby."
Anti-Wanda tensed and turned Anti-Cosmo around in his space, "What do ya mean, Cozzie? Ain't he okay?" She dropped a hand to his beltline and Anti-Cosmo remained completely still. Her warmth was an uneasy comfort, like cutting off a limb to save a body.
"The baby won't come without help. Von Strangle instructed us to have relations in order for the baby to exist," said Anti-Cosmo, shutting his eyes against the vacuous spirit that had grown in his belly. Anti-Wanda's hand began making a shuffling motion against his stomach, cradling the dead pit.
"He won't come no other way?"
"No, Anti-Wanda…I'm sorry, I know how much you detest such activities, as do I, but without Anti-Poof, the fairies' baby will almost certainly fail to develop properly and then we both know who they shall blame for that," Anti-Cosmo bit out of clenched teeth, turning away from her again.
Slipping her hand from her husband's stomach, Anti-Wanda, using a dexterity no other anti-fairy could master, raised one foot to the desperate creature's head. She combed his hair with her toes and Anti-Cosmo leaned back into her touch, biting his lower lip to keep from moaning as her nails scraped his scalp. It was twisted, all of it, and she couldn't even see.
"We…we must get started, dear. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it will become," he said, standing and breaking their connection. His eyes automatically fell to the floor before his chin was pushed up by a single blue finger. Anti-Wanda splayed an apprehensive smile on her face and her husband returned the gesture gratefully.
Sighing, Anti-Cosmo picked Anti-Wanda up and held her in his arms. He couldn't look at her, scared as he was that she would detect that he was more than willing to go to bed with her to 'make' their child. The pair floated through the corridors in their chaste manner, Anti-Wanda's head hidden in in Anti-Cosmo's chest. He knew by her limp stature that she was terrified, but his needs mattered more to him. She was doing it for the fairies, no other reason. He had attempted to ignite a passion within her many times in their marriage and had failed miserably. She simply could not understand how to be a wife.
When they reached their bedroom, Anti-Cosmo kicked the door closed and quickly carried Anti-Wanda to the bed. He laid her body upon the bed and looked into her eyes for the first time. Large, shaking pink pupils greeted him and the last piece of purity left his body without a second thought.
"You're beautiful, Anti-Wanda," Anti-Cosmo whispered, stroking the quivering woman's cheek.
"Your jus'n sayin' that cause youse has to…" Anti-Wanda said, curling away from him. She felt the side of the bed tip as her husband stretched himself beside her, guiding her face towards him with his hands. Making sure to capture his bride's eyes, Anti-Cosmo shook his head slowly, sitting very still before he moved his lips to hers gradually. This time she did not push him away, and Anti-Cosmo gently kissed her, skimming her mouth with the pad of his lips. A deep part of him, perhaps the part which had been so sickened before, growled as her lips responded in kind. Their bodies melded together and it was no longer possible for Anti-Cosmo to lie.
She shook, she shivered, she spoke sacred words of love to him that made him groan and sob, grip her and take her longer and tighter than he ever had before. It was everything he had ever wanted and nothing that he had ever deserved. He lay there for a long time, evening his breathing, grasping to the afterglow. She clung to him because she thought his breaths were out of fright as hers had been. He did not want to think of what would happen next…of what she would ultimately do…
They sat in the dark, her arms draped about him carelessly. He raised his hand to touch her own when she immediately pulled back.
"Anti-Wanda?" Anti-Cosmo turned his head to find her in a fetal position, slowly scooting to the very edge of the bed, "Anti-Wanda…Clarice?"
The name he had given her so long ago showed no affect on her. He saw her body convulse and knew she was crying. He wanted to disappear into the sheets, but he reached for her instead. There was no sound to her sorrow and that, perhaps, made it all the harder to bear. Putting his hand on her bare shoulder, he rubbed his nose against the nape of her neck. Anti-Wanda screamed and shoved him away, burying her head into the pillow and insistently rocked back and forth. He felt tears well up in his own eyes as he settled back onto his side of the bed.
He never went to sleep, never took his eyes from her naked body. Anti-Cosmo sorely missed the sheets, but he couldn't risk waking her and causing her more pain. Somewhere in the night, he was finally able to lay beside her without her knowledge, and he stayed there lost in thought as the magnitude of what he had done to his own wife surrounded him.
Anti-Wanda got up before the sun had fully begun its next journey. She absently picked up her clothes, glancing back at Anti-Cosmo who pretended to be asleep as not to startle her. Confident that she was to herself, Anti-Wanda attempted to pull her shirt up over her legs and grunted when she fell backwards into a dresser. She shook her head and tried again, this time placing her head through a sleeve hole. By the time she had actually gotten dressed, Anti-Cosmo had turned over in the bed.
Sneaking to the genius' side of the bed, Anti-Wanda crouched beside him and simply stared at his faux sleeping form. His eyelids begged him to take just a peek, but then Anti-Wanda's hand went to his stomach and she was whispering so that he could barely hear her at all above his racing heart.
"I love you…you…love me…we a happy family…"