Baby Blues

Chapter Seven: Maternity Fashions

"I look fat."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're not fat. You've never been fat."

"I am," Albel said miserably, glaring at his reflection and squashing the urge to stick his katana through it. "Look at me, I'm bigger than a lum!"

"You're not fat."

"I've always had control over my weight. Now I can't even see my feet anymore."

"You're not fat," Fayt repeated amiably again, turning a page in his book. "You're pregnant. There's a difference."

"I've always been able to see my feet…" Albel continued mournfully, completely ignoring his occupied lover. "And now it feels like I've lost a part of myself. Do you know what that feels like? I'm losing touch with my own body!"

"You're not fat, Bel."

"I've always pitied weak fools with a poor body image — now I am one of those weak fools."

"You're not fat."

"Fayt…"

"You're not fat."

"…I'm still pretty, right? You're still attracted to me, aren't you?"

"You're not fat."

"…"

"…"

"…Fayt, while you were asleep last night I sneaked out of bed and let Cliff and Mackwell screw me silly during a huge orgy at Woltar's mansion."

"You're not fat."

"…I was thinking that later I might go back. Cliff mentioned something very interesting called the Karma Sutra and I know Mackwell will be dying to try it out. That man may just be an inventor, but he has amazing stamina. I'm sure you won't mind, but you're always welcome to join us."

"You're not fat," the bluenette replied mechanically, turning another page idly.

Albel pursed his lips, planting his hands firmly on his ever-expanding hips. "I also thought you might like to know," he said pleasantly, "that I sold Sophia into slavery. She should be well on her way to Greeton to work in the mines by now."

"You're not – you did what?"

The older of the two pouted, a little peeved that Fayt had only reacted to hearing the name 'Sophia'.

"Nothing, nothing," he said blandly. "I just happened to mention that Sophia will be taking a bit of a vacation for the next couple of months. A working holiday."

Fayt gave him an exasperated look, closing the book he had been studying. "Please… tell me you didn't really sell Sophia into slavery."

"I had no choice."

"I think you can choose whether or not to sell someone into slavery, Albel."

"You weren't listening to me properly," he answered sulkily.

"That's no excuse!"

"It is in my book."

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"…Just shut up and hug me, fool."

"Fine," Fayt relented, opening his arms. "Come here, then."

Albel sniffed. "And don't think a cuddle is going to make it better either, maggot. I don't forgive so easily."

"Well, it's a start, isn't it?"

"Bah," the swordsman scoffed, but plopped himself down on Fayt's lap anyway. "I suppose it is a start," he added grudgingly.

The bluenette smiled, rubbing one hand gently over his lover's swelling belly. "You're not fat," he murmured. "And you're still beautiful. Don't ever say that I would think you're not."

Albel sighed, leaning into his touch. "Of course I'm still handsome," he said petulantly. "And if you weren't attracted to me anymore, there would be something wrong with your head."

"Yeah," Fayt agreed softly, "there would be, wouldn't there?"

He rested his head on Albel's shoulder, and the Glyphian did likewise, resting his cheek atop Fayt's head. They sat together in comfortable silence, Albel absentmindedly stroking blue hair while Fayt continued to rub his pregnant belly with slow circles.

These were the moments Fayt loved most. The times when Albel would put aside his waspish arrogance and be his lover and nothing else. With the pregnancy in particular, Albel had become almost… kittenish, and constantly demanded physical affection — not sex; just a kiss, a hug or a cuddle, which Fayt always had ready in hand.

He looked down at Albel's abdomen, and chuckled.

"What?" Albel demanded irritably without opening his eyes.

"I think," the bluenette said bemusedly, "that you need some new clothes."

"No, I don't," he replied automatically, eyes opening to glare at Fayt. "Your shirts will do just fine."

"My shirts won't fit me once you're through stretching them to hell and gone," Fayt pointed out dryly, tugging at the hem which only stretched midway over Albel's abdomen. "You can't live in this, especially when the baby gets bigger. You need maternity clothes."

Albel bristled. "I'm proud of my bump, Fayt, I don't feel the need to hide it under maternity clothes."

"What if it's cold?"

"Then I'll throw on a cloak."

"You'll need something more substantial than a cloak, Bel. You need to go shopping for maternity clothes."

"Yes, but–"

"Did I just hear someone say shopping?"

Albel froze. That nauseating, high-pitched squeal. That sudden waft of sickly flowery perfume. He could have sworn that the air in the room had suddenly become infused with pretty pink sparkles. No. It couldn't be. Not here. Not now!

"Sophia!""Fayt!"

Albel found himself rudely deposited with a bump on the chair to watch as his lover jumped up to throw his arms around the now squealing girl. Sophia! How dare she interrupt his cuddle time with Fayt!

Even though he knew she was his best friend, even though he knew that Fayt was gay, jealousy still threatened to spill over. And given his current volatile, hormonal and irrational state, it would not be pretty. In fact, Albel already had a plan in place for Sophia which involved rusty chains, a freshly-sharpened Crimson Scourge and her getting beaten to death with her own colon. He grinned, relishing the thought of a little bloodshed this early in the morning. Now, if Fayt would hold her attention long enough for him to sneak up behind her–

"Oh my god, Albel, look at you!"

A sudden rush of wind and he was enveloped in a cloud of sickly perfume and thrust against a soft chest. Albel wrinkled his nose on instinct and was about to throw her off when he realised…

She smelt good. Fresh and clean, with a hint of something sweet and floral. And the soft, squishy feeling of females which usually repulsed him felt kind of… nice. Almost comforting. Sophia was babbling nonsense in his ear about how big he was getting and how she would swear he was glowing, and the disturbing thing was that he didn't mind. Not one bit. Usually he was trying to stab his own ear drums by this point.

He swallowed. There was a tingly feeling running from his chest down to the tips of his toes. A thrill that was making him tremble visibly. And to makes things worse, he had the strangest urge overpower him.

Albel wanted to hug her.

He wanted to wrap his arms around her and squeeze. He had the sudden urge to start jabbering about babies, puppies and flowers, even (and it pained him greatly to say this) shoes. Shoes, for god's sake! He barely noticed his own shoes as long as they were comfortable enough to run and fight in, now he was suddenly interested in wearing as many pairs as possible!

"I can't believe how good he looks," Sophia was saying to Fayt while she still clung to Albel. "He's almost cute!"

"Well," the bluenette said, smiling a little, "he is almost a woman now."

"Almost a woman, now… huh."

Sophia's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she held Albel at arms length to inspect him, and his new-found warm feelings towards her started dissipating at a rapid pace.

"Why are you looking at me like that, wench?" he asked suspiciously, not liking the predatory gleam in her eyes at all. The last time he had seen that look in a woman's eyes, he had ended up wearing a dress and had ribbons braided in his hair – true, he had only been ten years old and in the company of his older female cousin and her gaggle of insipid friends, but the experience still stung.

Just because he happened to have female appendages now did not mean he was going to gallivant around in a dress!

"Almost a woman and still wearing this?"

Sophia had pinched the sleeve of his wrinkled and stretched shirt between her fingers, a look of disgust wrinkling her nose.

"No woman," she declared, "no matter how pregnant, would be seen dead wearing something like this. Albel Nox, you should be ashamed of yourself! For the love of god, woman, take some pride in how you look!"

"What's wrong with it?" Fayt said indignantly, instantly coming to his lover's defence. "I think he looks great no matter what he's wearing!"

"Sweetie, you're supposed to say that." Sophia said patronizingly, patting her best friend's cheek in what was supposed to be a comforting manner. "It's how you've been trained. You're not going to be completely honest with him all the time, are you?"

"Well, uh−"

"I mean, just look at him! Those tracksuit pants look like a dog was chewing on them, and that shirt…" she stopped, looking so revolted that the words couldn't even come out.

"Uh, Sophia−"

Fayt sidled closer to his friend, poking her on the shoulder. She paused in the midst of counting Albel's other fashion crimes, and gave him a huffy look.

"What, Fayt?"

"I don't think it's such a good idea to list Albel's faults like that," he suggested quietly. "He's been a little, uh, volatile, lately."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "Besides, it doesn't matter. He hasn't made a move to even draw his sword yet. If he was really coming after me, then I wouldn't be standing here."

Fayt opened his mouth to reply when the thought struck him that she was right. Amazed, the bluenette turned to look at the pregnant swordsman. Albel was standing, hands clutching the edges of his shirt, wide eyes fixed on his body.

"Uh, Albel−?"

The older (wo)man looked up at him, eyes sparkling with sudden tears. "She's r-right," he said, voice cracking. "She's right. I look like c-crap. How could I have let this happen? How could I have let myself go this far? Do you still love me, Fayt? No, how could you love someone who… who… who looks like this?"

Fayt blinked. "Of course I still love you," he spluttered. "I couldn't care less what you looked like."

"Liar!" he howled. "I'm hideous! I'm a slob! I'm… I'm−"

Sophia cooed in sympathy and immediately flung her arms around the now sobbing Albel, patting his back in soothing circles.

"There, there, Albel… it happens to the best of us, darling. Don't worry. Don't cry. It's nothing we can't fix."

He raised a tear-stained face and hiccupped. "R-Really? But h-how?"

"Oh, the old-fashioned Earth way," she replied glibly. "We shop."

"S-Shopping?" Albel repeated, looking bewildered. "Just say the word, Albel, and I promise that I will make all your wildest dreams come true.""…You'll somehow impale yourself on my sword?"

"No, no, the other wildest dream!" she snapped, looking annoyed, while Fayt snickered behind her back. "I will unlock…" her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper, "the long-hidden feminine side of Albel Nox!"

Albel blinked. "I have a… feminine side?"

"Of course you do!"

"No! Albel say no! Quickly!"

"But, Fayt…" he wheedled, turning to the vigorously protesting bluenette. "I want to go shopping. I need new clothes."

"Like you need blistered feet and sore hands? Like you need to walk around a gigantic shopping complex for hours and hours until you can barely lift a bag, let alone walk? Dealing with snippy shop assistants, queuing for hours at a till just to buy a pair of freaking socks… is that what you want, Albel? Huh? Is that Hell really what you want?"

"If I can get new clothes… then yes."

Sophia beamed. "Then shopping it is!" she crowed triumphantly, grabbing both Fayt and Albel by the hand.

Horrified, Fayt could only allow himself to be dragged out of their apartment and onto the ship. Dismayed, he could only watch as the insane grins on both Sophia and Albel's faces grew wider and wider as the planet grew further and further away. He pressed his face against the glass and almost cried when Elicoor disappeared completely from view. Fayt sniffled, the urge to cry growing even more when the topic of conversation behind him turned to shoes.

Doomed… I'm doomed.

It was hardly the first time that Albel had visited one of the Earth's billion shopping malls, but this one certainly took the cake. He was fairly certain that he could fit the entire population of Elicoor into the food court alone. He was also perfectly aware that there were billions of Earthlings on this planet, yet it seemed as if every one of them had decided to come to this mall to shop. It was crowded, hot and filled with what only could have been a million screaming babies — and here Albel was seriously reconsidering his decision to have a baby, never mind that it was a little late to have second thoughts.

In short, the place was Hell. And Albel knew exactly whose fault it was that he was here.

"This is your fault, maggot."

Fayt looked aghast. "How the hell can you blame this on me? This is your fault."

"Well, she was your friend first."

"You were all, like, 'but Fayt, I need new clothes' and 'Fayt, I need to feel pretty on the outside'. Hah, I told you that — twice! You told me you hated shopping, but nooo, you had to let hormones get the better of you, didn't you!"

Albel scowled, thrusting a bulging shopping bag at Fayt. "Just shut up and carry this for me. I'm tired."

The bluenette shook his head, glaring back at him. He held up both of his arms, which were laden with heavy bags. "Do I look like I have any space left?"

The swordsman scrutinised him carefully. "Actually… you do." Before Fayt could protest or run away, Albel neatly looped the shopping bag around the one arm that still had a bit of space open and dashed into the nearest store.

Fayt stared after him, open-mouthed. Oh well, he thought jadedly, he'll regret it soon enough. That's the maternity store Sophia went into.

He just delivered himself to the hands of the Devil.

"This will look fabulous on you, Bel."

Albel struggled to get the floral shirt over his head and swollen belly, grimacing as it snagged on one of his braids.

"What are you grinning at me for, maggot?" he snapped waspishly when he caught of Sophia's smirking face.

"Oh, nothing, nothing…" she said mysteriously, averting her eyes from his… chest. Score! He's pregnant and a woman but my boobs are still bigger! Inwardly, she pulled her own victory sign and laughed nervously when Albel gave her a suspicious look. "Gee," she added hurriedly, "you know what would make that blouse look even better? Accessories. We need to accessorise!"

He looked sour. "I don't want jewellery," he said petulantly. "I'm tired, my feet hurt and I want to go home."

"Nonsense! What woman doesn't want jewellery? Now, just wait here, and I'll be back with a few necklaces and bracelets… ooh, can't forget hair clips, or maybe a nice, funky headband…"

Albel watched her skip away, and it occurred to him that he really should wait for her to come back. After all, she was conducting this entire shopping trip for his benefit — it was only fair that he at least be gracious. His whole 'noble upbringing', and all. He stared at his reflection in the fitting room booth. His reflection stared back. Somehow, given the fact that he was currently a pregnant man/woman thing, it didn't surprise Albel when his reflection started talking.

What the hell are you waiting for? Get the fuck outta there before she comes back!

"But she's Fayt's best friend. I have to wait," he tried to explain to what was apparently his 'inner self'. "I don't want to upset her."

…Since when have you actually given a fuck about Sophia? If she's upset and you're not, then it's a good thing, moron!

Albel paused. "You may have a point there," he mused.

Exactly! Now haul your ass outta there before she comes back with ribbons. You remember how bad the ribbons were, don't you? I don't ever want to go back to ribbons! You hear me? NO MORE RIBBONS IN MY HAIR!

"You don't have to shout," Albel grumbled, hauling himself off the chair with a groan and waddling out of the fitting rooms.

Go, go, go, go!

"Shut up!"

The store assistant standing at the counter blinked, looking shocked. "Excuse me?" she gasped.

Albel sighed. "Not you, lady. I was talking to my reflection."

"Oh… I see." She backed away as Albel came nearer. "Erm, will you be taking anything…uh, ma'am?"

The Glyphian pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Just my pride," he mumbled. "…and this maternity bra."

He needed a new bra, anyway.

"Just so you know, I'm going to kill your best friend."

Fayt opened his eyes blearily. "Go ahead," he told his lover, waving his hand listlessly. "Be my guest. I give you full permission to use whatever methods necessary. Seriously, I don't care anymore."

Albel flopped down beside him with a groan, massaging his back. "The only problem," he said glumly, "is that I don't think I have the energy to kill her.

The bluenette sighed, letting his head rest on Albel's shoulder. "'m tired too," he mumbled. "I don't want to shop anymore, Bel. My body is telling me to stop and go home. Let's just go. Sophia can find her own way back to Elicoor."

"Albel! There you are, you naughty girl!"

The 'naughty girl' groaned.

"Oh, Al-bel!" she trilled again in a sing-song voice. "I just found the cutest little maternity dress for you!"

"I already told you, wench, that I will not wear a dress. What do you think I am, a doll for you to play dress up?"

Sophia pouted, planting her hands firmly on her hips. "Oh, come on. You told me that you wanted to be more feminine, didn't you? You don't get more feminine than a dress. And I swear that I found the perfect maternity dress for you, it will look fabulous!"

"Woman, I will be the laughing stock of the entire army if I attend my duties wearing a dress! And you cannot take my comment about being more feminine seriously — since I got this stupid thing stuck inside my belly, I've been saying things I don't mean. You just caught me when I was vulnerable!"

"You're already pregnant," Sophia pointed out reasonably. "I don't see how wearing a maternity dress can affect your army reputation any more. Besides, you usually wear a skirt, don't you?"

"That's different. I wear a sarong. It is a garment that allows me to move freely, thus giving it strategic purpose in battle. It has no other value whatsoever."

"…I always thought you just wore it to show off your legs."

"Keep out of this, Fayt!"

"But you do have to admit that you have really nice legs…"

"…Yes. Yes, I do, don't I?"

They beamed lovingly at each other and Sophia rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to gag.

"Oh, for the love of…" she muttered. "Well then, what do you want? We can't go back to Elicoor empty-handed."

Albel immediately pointed to the shop window closest to where they were seated. "Those."

Sophia's eyes widened in horror when she saw what Albel was pointing to. "Dungarees?" she yelped. "You want dungarees?"

"Maternity dungarees," he corrected her primly. "And yes, I want them. They look comfortable, and I am certain that I will be able to save face and train with my soldiers."

"But they're so… well, ugly. And plain. I can find a much prettier maternity dress for you−"

"I want them. If I don't get them, we'll have a problem. And if we have a problem, I'll kill you. Slowly."

Sophia gulped, eyeing the dagger which had magically appeared out of thin air in his hand. How the heck had he managed to sneak that through five security checks?

"T-Then dungarees it is."

Albel smirked, sliding the dagger back under his shirt into the sheath hidden in his bra, and patted his chest appreciatively.

It was good to know that these bra contraptions were good for something other than preventing the embarrassing jiggles he had been prone to lately.

A/N: I have this lovely image in my head of Albel in dungarees now. Honestly, I think he would look absolutely adorable. Lol, perhaps I'll get a matching one for Fayt in the next chapter.