Summary: Despite his better judgment, Brock agrees to an illicit affair with the Saffron City Gym Leader. That was his first mistake. His second was falling in love with her. His third was buying her a sea breeze on her birthday. Mangashipping.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon.
9. The Forbidden Fruit: Citrus paradisi – The Visitation
Sabrina chuckled as she watched her husband move frantically around the kitchen in that sexy, frilly pink apron of his. It was actually quite fascinating to watch him in his natural environment so completely skilled in the domestic ways; in one part of the kitchen he would be stirring something at superhuman speeds, in another he'd be washing and drying dishes, and in yet another he'd be carefully chopping vegetables and anything else that was needed. All this after he'd already spent the past two days cleaning his always immaculate apartment.
As if it wasn't impressive enough that she had found the only man alive capable of cooking, cleaning and emptying a dishwasher; he also happened to look dead sexy while doing it in a frilly pink apron, which in spite of being frilly and pink seemed to emphasise his broad shoulders and athletic shape in a very attractive way.
She laughed as he swore aloud, burning his second attempt at a caramel. Gracefully sliding out of the seat from which she had been watching him, she gently wrapped her arms around him from behind, leaning her body against his tense muscles. "My poor baby," she cooed at him, kissing the nape of his neck. "You have nothing to be worried about," she comforted, "it's not like this is the first time you've met my mother."
"I know," he sighed, relaxing a little into her touch as he cleaned out the mess of burnt sugar and began the caramel all over again in a new pan, "but this is sort of the first official meeting, you know, in the mother-in-law context. What if she doesn't like me?"
Sabrina giggled, holding him a little tighter. "I think it's a little late for her to disapprove of you," she answered, stepping back as he turned around to face her. "We've been married for nearly a month, and I'm nearly five months pregnant."
"Well, when you put it that way," Brock relented sheepishly, kissing her gently on the lips.
Hoping to take his mind of the impending meeting with her mother, she pressed closer against him and deepened the kiss. His attempted third batch was all but abandoned as his hands slid into her hair, getting completely lost in the kiss until the smell of burning sugar stole his attention away from her all over again.
She couldn't help but mentally compare the way he kissed her now to the way he used to kiss her, before the baby and their shotgun wedding. Before he'd kissed her with passion – desire – but like he was holding something back. Now when he kissed her it was like he was giving his whole self to the kiss, his every feeling for her conveyed in that moment.
She hadn't realised what she was missing.
He sighed loudly, cleaning up even more messy sugar.
"Honey, my mom – she doesn't even like sweet things that much," she lied in an attempt to console him.
He turned away from his cooking disaster, not even calling her on the blatantly lie – her sweet tooth had obviously come from somewhere. He leaned against the sink, drawing a hand across his face in a gesture that screamed frustration.
"I don't know why – " he began, struggling to put his emotions into words. "It just feels different. And I want this to go well."
"And it will," she promised, stepping closer so she had to tilt her head back to look at him. "Trust me I'm a psychic."
"You're not that kind of psychic," he replied, smiling ever so slightly at her teasing.
"No," she agreed, "but I know that you make me happy, and that's all she's ever wanted for me."
He sighed again, this time to release the lingering tension that he'd been feeling all afternoon. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close enough that she could tuck her head into the crook of his shoulder and rest a hand against his chest.
"I love you," he said, whispering the words quietly into her hair like a benediction.
"I know," she replied softly. And she hoped that he understood that it meant 'I will' and 'not just yet' and 'only you'.
"Sabrina," Sophia Le Fay said warmly, smiling as she turned to face her daughter, "would you please tell your husband to stop trying so hard. I know I'm getting on in my years, but I can still do some things for myself you know."
Brock blushed brightly at her words, putting down the serving spoon he had been using to dish vegetables onto her plate – he was about five seconds away from cutting her meal into bite size pieces for her. He looked helplessly at Sabrina, who tried to cover her own smile.
"I already tried," she told her mother, "but he just won't listen. You know how men can be."
"Oh yes," Sophia sighed. "You try being married to a psychic, dear," she told her daughter. "They think they know everything and throw paranormal hissy fits when they're wrong."
Brock started a little at the thought. "Is that what we've got to look forward to?" he asked. "Psychic tantrums when the little man doesn't get his way?" Sabrina couldn't help but smile at the endearment that Brock had bestowed on their son despite the aghast look on his face.
"Only if his mother is anything to go by," Sophia replied, giving her daughter a knowing look. Sabrina had the decency to look sheepish at the reference to her childhood temper tantrums. She once blew out all the windows in a shop when her mother told her she couldn't have a particular dolly.
Not that the little man hadn't already thrown his fair share of tantrums without even leaving the womb. At least that's how she was starting to think of the uncontrolled psychic episodes that had thankfully become less frequent in the last few months.
"For all our sakes I hope he takes after his father," Sabrina suggested, gently squeezing her husband's hand in a gesture of reassurance. "You're doing fine," she said quietly, leaning towards him. "She wouldn't tease you if she didn't like you."
He nodded silently, a bit of relief washing over him.
"So, Brock," Sophia said warmly as they all began to settle down to their meals. "I noticed you come from quite a large family. Does that mean I can expect a good number of grandchildren from you?"
Sabrina spluttered, almost choking on the food that she had been consuming at the time. "Mother," she admonished, her eyes widening in horror.
"It's a fair question," she argued back.
Brock chuckled at his wife's embarrassment, payback for her failing to hide her smile earlier when he had been the one caught by her mother's blunt expression. Sophia Le Fay seemed to have a way of expressing herself that was little un-easing to say the least. She liked to catch people off-guard and watch their responses – something she had developed from being surrounded by psychics all her life, as it tended to even the playing field.
"To be honest," Brock told her, casting a nervous glance briefly in Sabrina's direction, "it isn't something that we've talked about properly, but I guess I've always wanted a biggish family."
Sabrina knew this, so it was no surprise. It was something that he had shared in their moonlight discussions, but it was more in a general sense than with their own little family in mind. He had joked that he wanted enough kids to have his own soccer team, which made her smile. She knew Brock was more than capable of handling eleven kids, but she had to wonder about her own countenance.
"What about you, Sabrina?" her mother asked her.
"I never really thought about it before," she admitted. "I guess I always thought that it was something way down the track."
Sophia smirked as though reading something in her daughter's expression that she was trying to hide. Sabrina unwittingly blushed under her gaze, somehow confirming whatever thought was in Sophia's mind.
Sophia just smiled and turned back to the man across from her who watched the two with a curious expression. "Now, Brock," she smiled, "you just have to tell me what's in this pot roast. It's incredible."
"Just say it, Mother," Sabrina sighed as she walked her mother out later that evening.
"Say what?" Sophia replied innocently.
"Whatever it is you've been dying to say all evening," Sabrina sighed. "And don't say it's nothing. I do happen to be quite apt at mind reading."
Sophia grimaced a little. "You know I hate to bring this up, Sabrina," her expression drawn, "but have you spoken to your father about any of this."
Sabrina's own expression immediately turned grim, understanding exactly why her mother had been so reluctant to raise the issue. Her father had not been a part of her life for many years now – by his own choice as much as hers – but he was still ultimately her son's grandfather, and that had to mean something, right?
"He'll want to know," her mother said, still grimacing. Notably, there was no suggestion from Sophia on how the news might be accepted by her father or that he might be happy to see her settling down with a man that adored her. Only that the knowledge would be preferred.
"I'll notify him," she said, her tone becoming cool.
"In person," her mother suggested. "I know," she responded to a chilly look from Sabrina. "It probably . . . it's the right thing to do."
Sophia shook herself off, as though ridding herself of a the heeby jeebies and plastered an apologetic smile on her lips. "I'm sorry for darkening what has been a lovely evening," she said.
"And you can tell your husband he doesn't need to worry," she said laughter in her eyes. "Just as long as he makes you happy, that's all that matters.
"You are happy, my darling girl?" she asked, her voice soft, although it was more a statement than a question.
Sabrina nodded, a soft smile on her lips. "I really think I am," she told her mother reassuringly. "This isn't – this is nothing like what I thought my life would end up, but I'm so glad and I'm sure I couldn't be if he wasn't a part of it."
"Then that's all that matters," Sophia repeated with surety, wrapping her daughter in a warm hug.
"Even if this is the only grandchild you get?" Sabrina questioned, sending her mother a knowing look.
"Well, another couple wouldn't hurt," Sophia shrugged.
"Goodnight, Mother," she stated, waving goodbye.
"'Night, my darling," Sophia replied, waving back and going on her way.
Sabrina sighed as she made her way back to the kitchen where her husband stood in front of the sink, washing the dinner dishes by hand. He turned upon hearing her footsteps, drying his hands on the front of the apron he had donned for his clean-up tasks.
"Did I pass?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Just barely," she teased in reply.
"Any extra credit?" he asked cheekily.
She gave him a seductive smile in response, looking up at him through hooded eyes. "I could think of something," she smiled at him, before capturing his lips with her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her for better access as she gently parted his lips with her tongue.
His hands moved from her waist to her hips, sliding round to cup her but cheek and pull her closer. Her left hand trailed down his chest, sliding under his shirt and exploring the familiar flesh. His mouth left hers, trailing along her jaw and towards the junction between her neck and shoulder as she moaned lightly.
His kisses became more intense as his hands slid back to her waist and round her front, and then suddenly he stopped, pulling himself away from her. He turned away, returning to the dirty dishes of all things.
"I . . . I've got to finish cleaning these," he stuttered awkwardly, not even turning back to catch the disappointed expression cast across her features.
She grinned to herself and transported the dishes away with a blink of an eye. "What dishes?" she asked innocently as he turned to face her.
"'Brina," he chastised with a shake of his head. His words were undercut by the nearly predatory grin on his face as he stalked towards her and took her in his arms once again.
"They can wait," she assured him, feeling herself nearly pout as she continued, "your wife has had to share your attentions with this kitchen all day.
"I've missed you," she said shyly. It sounded crazy as she said it out loud, and she ducked her head into his chest to avoid further scrutiny. In the past she'd gone several days and sometimes even weeks without seeing him – rationing out his presence for fear that she might become too used to it. Now, after spending almost every waking moment together for nearly a month she could barely stand not having his undivided attention on her for a few hours.
"I'm not going anywhere," he assured her in a low tone, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
'Good,' she thought to herself, her chest unclenching and an irrepressible smile pulling at her lips. She lifted her head from his chest, looking up at him through her lashes. As she pulled away, she trailed her hand along his arm and over his wrist, grasping his hand in her own before letting go.
"I'm going to bed, husband," she told him.
Without a glance over her shoulder she headed towards his bedroom, knowing that he would follow.
~ to be continued ~
This is actually the point in the story where it got stuck for about eight years thanks to some weird plot that had a fight kicking off in the next chapter. Everything after this goes in a slightly different direction to what I'd originally intended (although I have no idea how I intended to resolve the original story), but ends up where it was meant to be.