Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, its characters or storyline. This collection is mine, as is McCallister. This was another difficult prompt, because it was so different. I still had fun with it, though I couldn't go as far as what was probably desired in the prompt because it was so awkward to write. Enjoy!
..:-X-:..
028 – Sympathy and Empathy
(For The Sacred and Profane; Prompt: 'A pregnant Tifa explodes at Squall after dinner one night and makes him wear a pregnancy belly at work the next day.')
Leon sighed, leaning against the door to the bedroom, where Tifa had locked herself in. "Come on."
"No!"
He tilted his head against the door. "I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing with you."
"I WASN'T laughing!" She snarled through the door.
He closed his eyes, trying to think a way through this. At nearly 9 months pregnant, it had become increasingly difficult for Tifa to get out of chairs and couches. The added weight around her belly had caused her ankles to swell and her back to constantly ache…for which she had developed the habit of blaming him habitually for. Leon never had it in him to fight her on it. She was carrying his child; how could he make fun of her?
But tonight, she had pulled the strangest maneuver that he had yet seen in order to get out of the chair at the dinner table, and maybe…maybe…he had chuckled at her. A little. And now he felt like a terrible husband, as he tried to coax his wife out of her fury in the bedroom.
"Okay, okay…I'm sorry." He apologized to the door, but couldn't wipe the grin off his face.
"I can hear you smirking!"
"I'm sorry for that too." He said. "But you have laughed at yourself before for worse."
"Yeah, but that stopped being funny when I lost the ability to see my feet!"
He hung his head, "Fine…Let me make it up to you. I'll rub your feet."
"You were gonna do that anyway." She huffed. "I don't think you understand how uncomfortable it is to be 9 months pregnant. Everything aches. All the time."
"I'll…run your entire department for a week so you can stay home and rest."
A pause. "You're getting warmer."
He frowned, "Maybe—"
She opened the door suddenly, and he staggered from leaning against it. Regaining his balance, he looked in at her. Tifa still looked angry, but she also looked mischievous.
"I've got a better idea."
..:-X-:..
Private Tabaeus McCallister looked up from her desk, which had been temporarily moved from her cubicle to the open area right outside Commander Leonhart's office. His door was closed. She had been posted there all morning, attracting a few strange looks from her colleagues, but no one dared ask why she had relocated for the day.
Major Clint Harris from Lieutenant Lockhart's Combat Department walked across the floor, carrying two thick stacks of reports in his arms. Tabaeus looked up as the other soldier neared, setting down her pen.
"Major—"
"More reports for Lieutenant Lockhart to sign." Harris remarked. "I was told to bring them to Commander Leonhart's office."
"I'll take them here." She reached for the reports. "Commander Leonhart can sign them by proxy for the Lieutenant while she's out."
Harris glanced toward the door and back to McCallister. "I'm supposed to take them directly to him."
"He's busy." She said. "Meetings, conference calls, you know. I'll take them."
Harris looked skeptical, but handed over the reports and left. Tabaeus had barely set the reports down on her desk when Cloud Strife entered the department, making a beeline for Leon's office. She stood to stop him.
"Sir—"
"Not now. I need to talk to Leon." He looked miffed.
"He's busy."
"Busy, my ass. This is important."
"Is it about Lieutenant Lockhart or the baby?" She prompted.
"No, but—"
"Then Commander Leonhart has deemed it not important. Can I help you?" She offered.
"Not imp—" He fumed. "His squad usurped the general department's training grounds for the entire week. He can't just do that."
"Sir, I'm sorry, I'll re-schedule them immediately." She said, shifting slightly to stand between Cloud and the door to Leon's office.
Cloud stopped, suspicion crossing his features. "What's going on?"
She stilled. "Nothing."
He stepped to the left, and she stepped to the right to block him.
"What—" He started.
"—Nothing."
"Why are you—" He stepped to the right.
She stepped left to block him again. "I'll take care of it. Sir."
Cloud narrowed his eyes, but shook his head, "Whatever. Just…fix it, okay?"
"Yes, sir." She stood at attention.
He rolled his eyes and left. As soon as he stepped out of the department, McCallister deflated and picked up the reports from Harris.
Seeing no one near the commander's office door, the coast clear, she opened the door just wide enough to slip inside with the papers, closing it quickly after herself.
Commander Leonhart looked up abruptly, saw that it was just her, and returned his attention to the work on his desk. His chair had been lowered dramatically behind the desk. This effectively made only his head and shoulders visible above the desk's surface. It would have been comical if he hadn't threatened McCallister with a six month assignment to Atlantica for laughing or saying a word at all about the situation.
The private wordlessly walked over and set the reports on the edge of his desk.
"Strife stopped by—" She started.
He looked up in horror.
She lifted her hands, "I took care of it. He left."
He exhaled in relief and sat back in his chair with a grimace.
"Sir?"
"Just…leave the reports." He waved her off.
McCallister frowned, but obeyed, leaving the office and closing the door after herself again.
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The short hand of the clock had just come to rest, pointing at the eight, when McCallister dragged herself out of the files piled on her desk. She had been processing the paperwork from Lieutenant Lockhart's office for the past four hours straight. She had lost feeling in her legs an hour ago from remaining seated for so long.
The rest of the Weapons Specialist Department was empty. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. Commander Leonhart was still holed up in his office, and Private McCallister had opted to stay until the last soldier left, in order to prevent someone from barging in on her superior officer.
But this was ridiculous.
Closing down her computer, she stood and cleared her desk, loudly shoving and pushing it back to her cubicle. After cleaning up the area, she walked over to his office door, lightly knocking. She entered before he answered.
"Sir, it's late and we're the last people here." She greeted.
He was on the phone and lifted a hand to silence her. She remained in the doorway.
"Yes, you win." He was saying. "I know…I know it's not quite the same, but…I get it now…Yes, yes…YES. Tifa—Can I take it off now?" He cast McCallister a pitiful look. "Thank you…Fine. Right, strawberry…not strawberry…mint chocolate it is…Right…bye."
He hung up and slumped forward at his desk, still only head and shoulders visible.
McCallister cleared her throat.
He sat up again, "Right. Go home, McCallister."
She bobbed her head, "Yes, sir."
She had barely turned around, however, when he stopped her.
"Wait." He grunted. "Help me take this thing off."
Tabaeus turned back around as he finally stood from his ridiculously-low chair. It took an immense amount of willpower for her not to stare or laugh at the horrendous contraption that his wife had forced him to wear all day. Only the fear of an assignment in Atlantica stopped her.
"There's a latch on the back." He gestured, but grimaced at the tightness in his shoulders. "Everything is stiff. I can barely lift my arms." He groaned.
Private McCallister sighed and crossed the office. He turned his back to her and she helped him maneuver out of his jacket. Finding the latch, she unclasped it and then unhooked the second clasp farther down his back.
"There." She said.
He hastily wriggled out of the thing, dropping it with a heavy thunk to the floor. He then proceeded to stretch and bend to get the kinks out of his back. McCallister stared at the contraption, now allowing herself to snicker.
"Don't laugh." He grunted, glaring at her. "Come here and pop my back."
She rolled her eyes, "You are utterly—"
They pressed their backs together and linked arms. Then McCallister bent over, pulling him over with her. His back cracked loudly and he made a relieved noise as they straightened.
"Now go home." She instructed, straightening her uniform.
He grimaced again, rubbing his lower back. "Yeah, yeah. Go."
"Good night, sir." She retreated out of the office.
As soon as she was in the elevator, she burst out laughing.
..:-X-:..
Tifa was in bed watching television when Leon came home. He was slow coming up the stairs, and he looked absolutely pitiful when he stepped through the bedroom door.
She grinned. "Hard day, dear?"
He looked at her sourly and lifted the grocery bag, tugging out the carton of mint chocolate ice cream. He handed it to her. "Here, enjoy your winnings."
She took the offering and turned off the television. "So…how did it go?"
His response was to flop face down on the mattress beside her.
Tifa triumphantly popped the lid off the top of the ice cream.
Leon's voice, muffled by the pillow against his face, muttered. "That was the most humiliating day of my life."
"Now you know how I feel." She tutted.
He rolled onto his side gingerly and glared at her. "Everything hurts."
"Oh, surely you aren't implying that a big, strong man such as yourself couldn't handle one day with my condition?" She snickered, munching on the ice cream.
He frowned and looked at her swollen belly. "I will kill the next person who chuckles at your suffering."
She beamed. "There, now was that so hard?" She took another bite of ice cream, which was pretty much the only thing that helped with the heart burn of late pregnancy.
"I couldn't even get out of that…monstrosity by myself. I had to have McCallister help me." He grunted.
Tifa snorted at that, reaching over and ruffling his hair. "Poor baby."
He rolled away from her so that his back was facing her. "Leave me alone."
Tifa decided to take pity on him. "Hey, at least you got to take it off at the end of the day. I have to wait another month." She rubbed the side of her belly thoughtfully.
He grunted, was still for a moment, and then rolled back over to look at her. "I'm sorry you're miserable."
Tifa paused. "It's not your fault…Well…" She blinked. "I mean, it takes TWO…so…" She shrugged, "Anyway, I forgive you for making fun of me. Maybe I overreacted a little. Pregnancy hormones…they're awful."
He snorted at that, but didn't sit up. Instead, he reached over and touched her stomach gently. As fun as it had been to watch him leave for work with that thing strapped on him, Tifa was gladder that he had learned his lesson. And maybe retained some of his dignity throughout it…though probably not regarding McCallister.
"Hey, I've got an idea." She started.
"I'm not wearing it again. You can't make me." He said flatly.
"No, no." She chuckled. "I know how much you hate budget meetings. Tomorrow when you're in the meeting with Cloud and the rest of the committee, I'll call you and pretend my water broke. You can make a break for it and take the afternoon off."
He looked up at her. "That's evil. It would give Cloud a heart attack." He grinned. "I'm in."
At that, he sat up and pulled another carton of ice cream out of the grocery bag.
"Ugh, Leon, I said no strawberry. The taste makes me nauseas." She groaned.
"I couldn't remember if you said no strawberry but yes to mint chocolate or the other way around, so I bought both." He said, producing another spoon. "So this one's mine."
He leaned against the headboard beside her and nodded toward the television. "What were you watching?"
"One of those birth videos." She said, seeing his appetite die as she did so. "But Star Trek is on Channel 5."
"Then can we please watch that instead?" He paled.
She handed him the remote. "Make it so, Number One."
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A/N: If I had to order them, I'd say this chapter takes place before the other pregnant!Tifa prompt in Chapter 7: Live Long and Prosper. There are two more prompts left to fill, and then this collection will be all wrapped up!