Here's another K/M vignette, as I've decided to call them. ^-^ This one is dedicated to Katarina Wolffe, because she's amazing.
The first time I found out I was pregnant, Aya was the only one with me. Kankuro was off at work, and everyone was respectively, well…not there.
Staring at the little home test – the proof – freaked me out more than actually knowing. After seeing it, all I could do was wordlessly walk to the kitchen and hand it to Aya. In my daze, pretty much the only thing I noticed was that she wore a baggy WTK shirt and was drinking hot chocolate. In August. In Suna.
I never did completely understand her. But whatever.
She took one look at the results. Then she took another, which lasted for about three minutes and thirty-four seconds. Not that I counted, of course. That's absurd. Who counts something like that anyways?
According to the little test she stared at for that period of time, which may or may not be correct, I would have a baby in about seven and a half months.
I really didn't know how to handle this. I mean, who doesn't love babies? They're cute and sweet and everything a girl wants. But they also mean late nights and crying, diapers and frustration and infamous pain. Was I even ready for a baby? Akio had a baby, and she was a lovely, adorable child. I'd heard her fuss and seen her eat messily. That was just a part of children. Could I handle a child? A baby boy with my eyes and Kankuro's facial structure and hair. Or maybe a baby girl… We would have to buy so many things, make the house child-safe, cut back on work, pick names, and find a good doctor… With the way Aya was smiling at me and gushing congratulations, and the way Misa gazed at her baby girl, I thought maybe I could.
I could be a mom. Or Mommy. Momma, Mama, Mother. No, Mother was too formal and Mama sounded odd.
I could be a Momma.
And Kankuro, he could be a dad. A Daddy for a few good years.
We could be a family. My hand traveled to my stomach, which had not yet swollen. We could be a happy family, not broken or beaten. Everyone would have equal love and attention; we could do normal family things like picnics and the theatre to see cute little shows. There wouldn't be a single parent or an addict or any unhappiness because of something we could prevent. It would be different from my family – loving but broken and not very close – and Kitty's family – business-like and cold – and Aya-chan's family – severed, without much affection. We could be happy. I wouldn't mind that.
"Mori-san, do you want me to call Kankuro?"
With a grin, I shook my head. "I'll tell him tonight, as a big surprise. Over dinner, but I'll say it casually. Do you think he'll be okay with it?"
"Of course! He'll be so excited! I would love to see him spit out his wine or something when you say it." She giggled, and stood to hug me. I'd grown just a tad over the years, but my formidable heels – which would have to go in a few months – made me an inch or two taller than Aya. "Kitty loves you and he loves babies. You know how he acts around Moki. You're going to be a great mom and he'll be the obsessive, over-protective dad. I know it will all work out."
She was so sure, so happy, and it made me grin. This was my best friend. This was the girl that helped me through thick and thin, and vice versa.
"Aya-chan, I always knew there was a reason I come to you for advice. Sometimes, you don't even relate my problems to crazy stories or pancakes." Sometimes, but mostly not. After all, it just wouldn't do to have a normal conversation half of the time. What fun would that be?
"Well, if you wanted a crazy story about pancakes, all you had to do was say Prius!"
I could only laugh.
My baby, this tiny child Kankuro and I would bring into this crazy world, would be a part of this. Aunt Aya's crazy stories and Uncle Kane's endless jokes. Cousin Moki's puppy eyes, even Aunt Temari's inability to boil water correctly. My baby would hear too many Hn's and laughs to count. Yeah, everything could work out.
If I could deal with the cravings and mood swings, that is. [Read, If Kankuro could survive this, that is.]