Funny piece I thought of a while back. Enjoy!
Baatar enjoyed watching Kuvira work, whether she was practicing her bending, her dancing, or poring over the countless documents that littered her desk. Her efficiency was almost mechanical, her movements controlled and deliberate. She always cut an impressive figure in the strategy meetings and this one was no exception, her posture painfully upright and her fingers steepled as she listened to each general's account. As he fondly observed her, he noticed her shoulders curving in, her chin descending onto her interlaced fingers, her eyes narrowing, and her body shifting position in the chair. She was practically slouched sideways, her knees angled towards him, and her expression thoughtful. A private entered, whispered something in her ear, and hastily left.
"If we were to move the sixth regiment back, we could-"
Kuvira held up a hand, brow furrowed. "Enough," she said, and the consulting room fell silent. Baatar looked at her questioningly; she had been watching him with an odd expression throughout the course of the meeting. "Baatar, I need you for a moment," she said as she stood, breaking the silence at the table. She raised her eyebrows when he didn't stand. "Did you hear me?"
"Of course," he said with a frown, feeling mildly uncomfortable under the questioning looks the generals cast his way. "What for..?"
"We may want to go somewhere a bit more private," she said, already headed for the door. "Carry on, gentlemen. Send a copy of the meeting transcript to my quarters. Nothing is to be enacted without my approval." Once she saw that he was following her, she turned and exited without a second glance.
Baatar frowned as he hurried after her. One of Kuvira's generals clapped him on the shoulder, smirking. He scowled in response. "What?"
"Do not keep me waiting, Baatar," Kuvira called from the hallway. Her tone was stern, but far from unpleasant, and Baatar growled under his breath as the generals apparently drew their own conclusions, if their suppressed laughter meant anything. His relationship with Kuvira was no secret after she had accepted his proposal, but while her officers exuded nothing but professionalism towards her the same could not be said for him. He was perhaps in part to blame; it was hard to hide a smug smile at times when she referred to him as her fiance rather than his executive title. Even so, he was surprised and a bit disbelieving- it wasn't like her to wait outside a small changing room expectantly, demanding his presence. He paused, thoughtfully. They /had/ received word from the men stationed in the northern provinces that the uprisings had been quelled...perhaps she was feeling celebratory? Still, it was so out of character for her to be this impatient...
"What is it?" he asked, taking her hands in his. "What is so important that you walked out of the meeting that you called in the first place?"
She opened the door, jerking her head towards the entry. "After you," she said, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth.
He arched a brow, looking at her skeptically. "Bossier than usual today, apparently.."
Her reply was to shove him into the room, swinging the door shut behind them. He heard the lock click, and dug his nails into his palms. No, he was awake; it made the situation all the stranger. "Get undressed," she said curtly, leaning against the chest of drawers and observing him.
Baatar pulled her to him, tipping her head back and kissing her. She let out a little sputter of surprise, but he only slipped his free arm around her waist, his other hand cupping her cheek. She responded at first, her breath shallow and her hands finding a place behind his neck, only to push him away without warning. "What are you doing?" she said, re-crossing her arms over her chest.
He pushed a piece of her hair that had come loose behind her ear, raising his eyebrows. "I should ask you the same question."
"I didn't call you in here for this," she said, amused.
"Well, I'm sorry for misinterpreting 'let's go somewhere private' and 'get undressed' and 'I need you, Baatar' in this context," he said with a hint of annoyance. "You could have cleared that up at any time-"
"You completely changed the order of what I said," Kuvira protested, her cheeks coloring. "It wasn't that suggestive."
"That's not going to work on me," he said, smiling. "You're not that innocent. But then what did you need me for?" He glanced around the room they were in. "And why do I need to get undressed...?"
"Because," she said, reaching into one of the storage boxes on the chest of drawers, "the new uniforms are ready, and since yours is different from the other officers' I arranged for yours to be the demo." She pulled out a folded stack of fabric from the box. "Now undress and try this on."
Baatar shrugged. "This couldn't wait for another half hour?" he asked, making short work of the buttons on his top and reaching for the tunic in her hands.
"To be perfectly honest, it was getting redundant," she said, handing him the new uniform. "Don't pretend that you weren't tuning General Xi out either. You were staring at me the whole time."
"Still, it seems rude and unnecessary to..." He trailed off as he pulled on the tunic and fastened the closures on the jacket. "Kuvira...what are these?" he said slowly, holding up the pair of olive drab tights she had given him.
"I wanted something streamlined, like mine," she said with a shrug. "Try them on."
"Kuvira, these are tights!"
"I can see that," she said, frowning. "I wear them too, in case you didn't notice. Trousers off, Baatar."
"You're a woman!" he protested. "There's a difference! Why can't I just wear the usual trousers? The color scheme matches just fine-"
"Don't be such a child," she snapped. "I need to see how the uniform looks in full. Now try on the tights."
"That's so- the length is too-" he sputtered. "It's not professional."
"So now you're saying I don't dress professionally?" she teased, mimicking his petulant expression.
"Don't change the subject, this isn't about you," he said, swatting her away when she moved to undo his belt. "I'm not wearing tights," he said firmly, catching her by the wrists and dragging her up so their eyes met.
Kuvira made two sharp gestures despite his grip on her wrists, and he yelped as he felt metal stab him. "You /will/ wear tights, if only to try them on," she said authoritatively, "and if I like the finished uniform then you /will/ wear them on a regular basis as your usual uniform, just like me and everyone else. I'm not speaking as your fiancee, but as your commander. Do you understand?" Her eyes were narrowed, her tone the one she reserved for errant lower ranking officers, and Baatar wondered how someone who had to tip her head back to kiss him was able to make him feel about a head shorter than her.
"Fine." He changed into the tights, looking forlornly at his tailored trousers draped on the chair. "I feel so exposed," he said, tugging at the center panel of the tunic.
She studied him appraisingly, her chin in her hand. "Hmmm. Yes, we're keeping them. I'll send the orders for the new ones to be delivered-"
"HOW CAN YOU THINK THIS IS A GOOD LOOK?"
Kuvira ignored his outburst, instead filling out a form to finalize the order. "You'll get used to them."
He sat slowly, hyperaware of the length of the tunic, and fiddled with it. "This isn't long enough."
She glanced his way. "It's perfectly fine, everything important is covered."
"So my personal shame isn't important?"
Kuvira rolled her eyes, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Baatar sighed inwardly as he recognized her go-to gesture for a friendly negotiation. "Listen, I know this probably feels emasculating right now, but it shouldn't. The new uniforms are for the entire army, and I personally find them streamlined and professional. And for what it's worth, Baatar," she added, turning his face to hers, "I think you look good." When he kissed her this time, she didn't pull away.
"I still hate them," he said.
"Too bad. Come on, we're going to show the commanding officers the uniform now, and you're modeling it." They set off for the meeting room again.
"I thought your preference was shoulders, not legs," Baatar said sullenly. "Why-"
"This isn't about improving my view," Kuvira snapped. "Gentlemen, we have a quick bit of business to attend to," she said, addressing the assembled generals. Their discussion died quickly as Kuvira spoke, and their eyes flitted from her to Baatar. "My fiance was kind enough to model the new uniform for you all. Tell the units under your command to pick up their uniforms by tomorrow evening. The same applies to each of you."
Baatar crossed his arms, seeing the looks of horror slowly register on their faces. "The tights are apparently non-negotiable. I tried."
Kuvira flashed him a smile, returning her attention to the officers. "Finish up the meeting and send the transcript my way." She took his arm as they left the room, surprising him. "Do you really dislike them that much?"
"Yes! I thought I made that obvious!"
She laughed delightedly. "How should I compensate you for this blow to your pride?"
"I don't think you can," he said, unamused. "You're forcing us to wear tights."
She glanced down the empty hallway. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure-" She cut off his words with a rather aggressive kiss, moving so his back was to the wall. Her hand grazed the contours of his jaw and neck, while her other hand fisted in the fabric of the new uniform. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and for a few moments he forgot about the fact that he was indeed doomed to wearing tights on a regular basis. "Careful, Baatar," she murmured, tugging the back of her uniform into place. "We're still in a hallway..."
And then it dawned on him. "If you were wearing pants instead of tights, then that wouldn't be an issue," he said coolly, letting go of her. "I'll see you at dinner, Kuvira." Her eyes narrowed even as she smiled, and he gave her a quick peck before he left, his triumphant exit marred slightly as he stealthily tugged the tunic hem down.
A/N: Did it bother anyone else that she makes the dudes wear tights? IT'S BARELY KEEPING EVERYTHING COVERED.
