A/N: So, I've had this one in my head for about a week. Didn't feel like writing up my US History essay over the Bay of Pigs, hence this little drabble. It's very, very unbetaed, so I'm sure the mistakes are as copious as frolicking rabbits. I think that's all… enjoy!
Disclaimer: Nope. I still don't own the Artemis Fowl series. Aren't you shocked?
Though the twins were older, wiser, and even more energetic, (especially in the case of one Beckett Fowl,) to Artemis, the scene before him seemed strangely reminiscent of one three years earlier. The boys sat in exactly the same way, with the same curious tilt to their heads as when the genius had attempted to teach them French restaurant etiquette. However, this time, it was Beckett that brought up the topic of conversation.
"Artemis," he began, "where do babies come from?"
His raven brows went shooting into his hairline. Artemis coughed lightly to gain a moment to collect his thoughts. What to say? He was probably the wrong person to explain to his young brothers the most carnal facts of life. On the other hand, he was even younger than them when he researched it for himself, so he knew from experience: better to hear it from a concerned member of the family than someone at their private grade school.
It also seemed as though it was time to instate his new policy of complete honesty. After all the trouble his webs of lies and half-truths had caused on previous escapades, Artemis had finally decided that enough was enough. Those new relationships with the people he cared about, as beautiful as dewy spider's silk and just as fragile, were worth preserving. And so, he decided, from this day forth, honesty would be his policy.
Thus reasoning, the young Fowl heir proceeded to explain to the even younger Fowl heirs the sordid details of the process of baby making. He tried to keep it fairly simple, and once finished, was rather impressed with his completion of fraternal duties. That is, until Beckett's tiny hand flew into the air.
"Ah, yes? You have another question?"
Beckett's face was filled with the serious contemplation of a six-year-old as he asked, "Is that the only way to make a baby?" Artemis, curious where this tangent of thought was headed and not wanting to get into the complicated science of test tube infants and cloning, nodded in affirmation.
"So… Tommy's mommy and daddy had a 'sex' to make his new baby sister?" Artemis nodded again. An almost painful look of deep thought settled upon his young protégée. Then the large, innocent eyes became wide as realization struck.
"Does that mean Mommy and Daddy had 'sex' to make us?" Once more, Artemis nodded his head and took an elegant swig of his bottled Irish Spring water resting on the mahogany end table.
"Hm… Have you ever had the 'sex' Artemis?"
Coughing up some of his drink, the Irish genius contemplated how to reply to the perfectly innocent inquiry. He thought of the warm, beautiful body he left curled up under his blankets that morning, and he thought about the loving smile and heartfelt greeting he was expecting when he got home. Honesty was the best policy, honesty was the best policy, honesty was the best policy…
"Well Beckett, I bet you can answer that question yourself. Do I have a baby?"
"No…oh! I see now…" Beckett exclaimed. Myles, however, was quick to spot the holes in this logic, and looked at his older brother quizzically. Artemis shook his head ever-so-slightly and put a long finger up to his lips in a universal sign of "sh." He winked, and Myles, ecstatic to share a secret with his favorite older brother, nodded happily.
Within the next five minutes, the twins became bored and tumbled away to cause some sort of havoc elsewhere in the mansion. As soon as they left the room, Artemis let out a long-suffering sigh. What about his new policy of candor? "Oh well," he though. "Old habits die hard."