Challenge Name and Number: Grow, #036
Drabble Title: In Denial
Word Count: 492
Warnings: None
Pairings: Jou/Mai
Author's note: I'm honestly kinda giggling right now. Set post series.
Summary: The time has come.
"Honey, I love ya. I really do. But it's time."
"Nuh uh! I can still fit into this skirt."
"That's what you said about the pants you couldn't zip up and to the shorts that you couldn't even get onto your waist. I know you've got your heart set on not having to do this, but let's face reality: you can't fit into anything. You need bigger clothes."
"No I don't! My clothes are just fine!"
"All right, then. Prove it to me. Put the skirt on, smarty pants."
There was a long pause after this statement, broken by an irritated growl every now and then. At last, though, a triumphant voice broke the silence with a smugly declared, "Ha! It's on and it still fits! So there!"
"Hmm…very nice. Now stop sucking in your gut, Mai."
The blonde woman huffed. "Jounouchi, I don't care what you say. It's not happening!" she snapped hotly, folding her arms over her chest petulantly.
Jounouchi shook his head wearily in amusement at her sullen expression. "I understood it at first because it wasn't such a problem then; now, though, you can't even fit into my pants and you're barely fitting into that blouse you're wearing," he said. "I hate to say it—"
"Then don't."
"—but it's time you started wearing things that you can wear comfortably," he finished, ignoring the glare being shot at him. "These aren't so bad," he continued, holding up a pair of gray slacks.
"You're not the one who has to wear them, and so what if I put on a few pounds? No way are you catching me in those," said Mai furiously, pointing to where several other articles of clothing sat innocently on the bedspread. "They're tacky and elastic banded and…and…blech."
"Mai, you're six months pregnant. That's more than a few pounds," said Jounouchi in exasperated fondness. "I know you hate the maternity clothes and want nothing better than to toss them in the garbage, but I'm not letting you out the door until you start wearing them."
When his wife continued to pout, he chuckled and took a seat on the end of the bed. He wrapped an arm around her waist, gently tugging her onto his lap and waiting until she got comfortably settled before setting his chin on her shoulder.
"Look at it this way," he said softly into her ear. "You just have to wear the tacky, elastic banded, and blechy clothes for three months, and if I know you any you'll find a way to make these clothes look good on you. Then, when you have the baby, you can burn them. I'll even help."
"…'Blechy' isn't a word, moron," she grumbled in defeat, leaning back into his embrace.