As a kid, I never got invited to birthday parties or to have dinner at someone's house. Which, I guess, was understandable.

I had been a mean little shit growing up. The type who bit his teachers and drew nasty pictures on his assignments only out of the malice of my heart. And no, I hadn't always been vicious, but after being tossed around in foster care for a few years before the Quinn's adopted me, I had figured out that nothing lasted forever.

That being a nice guy made you weak, like my real parents, who had died saving me.

I had tried sticking to that motive since then, but ever since Buddy Blue had fallen from the sky, it was getting harder and harder to be a bad boy.

"Sorry about the mess, my mom just had a baby a few months ago that none of us were expecting," Adam explains when he lets us into his apartment for the first time. 

I step inside and it's like landing on an entirely different planet.

A set of brown sofas that looked like my grandma's 1960s upholstered couches sat smashed into one corner, pink baby clothes and spit-up rags folded up on one end where someone had been folding laundry. There were toys and bottles everywhere, along with open books and homework pages where Adam Kavinsky had sat doing his assignments. 

"So where do you sleep, Kavinsky? On top of the dining table?" I ask him, and I look around the place, seeing like one room behind a closed door and a large kitchen towards the back. It was crowded in here for sure, but only because of all the chaos. 

"I moved into the attic after my sister was born," Adam admits, and then he leads us over to a trap door in the ceiling and pulls it down with a string. "There's more privacy up here and I have access to the roof so I can see the stars and planets."

I help Baby climb up first, and then I follow after him and Adam comes up behind us. 

And it's totally his room, I can just tell at first glance. 

He has a huge telescope set up over by a couple of glass sliding doors. A bed covered in sheets with stars and planets on them. The covers were thrown back of course, where he'd gotten up when I called him.

Damn.

I blush at the thought of him asleep, all squinty-eyed, his breath kind of smelling like toothpaste.

 Baby plops down in front of a TV set that Adam has over in the corner and he turns on one of the knobs, the roar of the QVC home shopping network exploding out instantly. Terrified, the alien boy yelps and falls backward before Adam runs over with the remote to turn down the volume.

"It's okay, Baby," Adam quickly comforts him, "It's called a TV. Everything's pre-recorded."

"Why would you pre-record other humans and watch them for entertainment?" Cluck Norris questions, and he goes to stand in front of the TV when Adam flips to The Simpsons, the episode where Bart and Lisa are trying to get Homer to buy them a swimming pool.

"Because it's fun, man," I reply, and I go over to Adam's dresser and I start looking at the pictures he has on top. He had some of him and a lady who I guessed was his mom. She had the same big brown eyes as him, but her hair was super dark and straight, and Adam had these annoying curls that made me jealous as hell.

I pick up another picture where Adam has his arm around another guy, and the guy's kissing him on the cheek, but his face is all marked out with Sharpie so I can't tell who it is.

I quickly put it down when Adam comes to stand beside me.

"That's my dad," He explains without me asking, and he picks up the picture, "He was really into astronomy and rocket ships."

"Oh yeah? What happened to him?" I question, curious to know more about him even if I didn't act like it half the time.

"He moved to Europe when I was like five and never came back," Adam shrugs like it was no big deal, "I'm pretty sure he started another life over there. He probably has a bunch of kids by now."

I stare down at the picture and then I hear a clucking noise from behind us so I turn around.

Baby's standing there next to Cluck Norris, and the antennas that he had been wearing when he crashed, are now clutched in his hands. 

So they hadn't been growing out of his head or anything. 

"Adam, do you think you could assist me in fixing Prince Bahz's translator?" Norris questions. "I'm currently missing a set of hands, otherwise I would do it myself."

"Sure," Adam answers, and I can tell he's trying not to sound too excited. "I'll go grab my tool kit and we can figure it out together. Just wait right here, okay?" He runs out of the room before Norris can even think to reply.

"Hey, Kavinsky!" I call to him when he runs out of the room, "Grab me an ice pack or something, will you? My fucking nose is killing me!"

"Yeah, alright!" Adam disappears down the ladder a second later.

I exhale and then I turn around to face Baby, who had slid open one of Adam's drawers and was looking inside, picking out socks and everything. Damn. He was like a little kid and shit.

"Hey, Astro Boy!" I go over to him and I grab the other end of the drawer, "Didn't anybody ever teach you manners?" I move to slide the thing closed, but before I can, Baby plucks a bottle of something clear out from between Adam's socks.

We both stare at it like it's this alien rock from space.

"I believe that's called personal lubricant," Cluck Norris offers up, and he flies up to stand on Baby's shoulder to take a closer look at the bottle. "But why Adam Kavinsky has it in his drawer is a complete mystery!"

"Are you fucking serious?" I demand, "I think we can all guess what Space Cadet uses lube for!"

"Okay, I got it!" Adam announces from the ladder, and he starts to come up.

Panicking, I rip the bottle out of Baby's hand and I fling it as hard as I can against the wall, but it backfires and we all watch it ricochet off the telescope and fly towards the hatch in the floor where Adam's coming up. So as soon as he pops his head out of the hole, the bottle of lube clobbers him in the face.

He goes crashing back down the ladder with a scream.

"Kavinsky!" I yell, and I run over to make sure he didn't break his neck falling back down.

"I'm okay!" He calls up weakly, and he waves a hand half-heartedly from the floor.

Thank fucking God.