Little People with Hammers

Four Weeks
August

"I lost it on Elizabeth Corday today," Kerry admitted dryly as she and Sandy sat across from each other at the dinner table.

"Did she deserve it?"

Kerry sighed. "She just got back from England and she's still mourning Mark's death and—"

"That doesn't mean she didn't deserve it. Besides, that was, like, six months ago."

"Four. Four months ago."

"Whatever." Sandy replied easily, waving her hand.

"She didn't deserve it, anyway. Not really. She's never been the most agreeable person but all of this is only making it worse. I can't blame her." Kerry sighed in defeat. "It was my fault—I couldn't keep my emotions in check." Suddenly, she laughed in spite of herself, "I mean, I cried, Sandy. I actually cried."

Sandy laughed, too; Kerry could generally control her emotions quite well, but in recent weeks she'd become a little more…emotionally volatile. Kerry's suddenly acquired tendency to lose it had become a running joke between the two.

"She was spewing some bullshit about my wanting to be kowtowed to and I broke down." Kerry sighed, annoyed at both herself and Elizabeth Corday. "At least I didn't scream at her."

Sandy smiled understandingly, got up from her seat, and came around to give Kerry a kiss. "Well, you can scream and cry and laugh at me all you'd like."

"That's a very generous offer," Kerry chuckled, leaning her forehead against Sandy's. "I still can't believe it's in there…a baby is actually in there."

Sandy sat down in the seat next to Kerry's. "Does it feel weird? Do you even feel anything yet?"

"Besides uncontrollably and unpredictably emotional?" Kerry asked rhetorically, "I've just had this constant headache. I left early."

"It was that bad?" Sandy asked, surprised both at the fact that Kerry left work early and that she hadn't told her she'd done so.

"Between crying and the pervasive throbbing in my temples, I figured I could cut myself a break. I wasn't doing anyone much good working, anyway."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"Not that I'm pregnant. No way." Kerry said.

Sandy gave a sympathetic and apologetic half-smile. She knew that Kerry wanted to keep her pregnancy under wraps for as long as possible; not just until they were past the twelve-week safety mark, but until it actually became necessary for others to know. It was a point of contempt for Sandy: though she wasn't carrying their child, she wanted to tell their friends and family about it as soon as possible.

"How's your head feeling now?" Sandy asked.

"Like are two very small people inside, pounding hammers into my temporal lobe."

"Go take a bath." Sandy commanded as she rose from her seat at the table and headed for the preheated stove. "I'll bring you something to eat when dinner's done."

Kerry smiled at her wife. Tiredly, she rose from her chair and grabbed her crutch. Before she headed to their bathroom, she walked over and gave Sandy a small kiss on the cheek. "I kind of like this commanding, overprotective side of you." She murmured against the smooth skin.

Sandy smiled, a crease forming where Kerry's lips had just been. "Go. I'll be there soon."

Kerry did as told, going down the darkened hall and into their shared bedroom. She sat on their bed to undress but suddenly found herself in a horizontal position with her head on the pillow. The exhaustion of the day hit her like a brick. Within moments, Kerry was asleep.

Having sent Kerry to take a bath, Sandy felt a little disconcerted when she didn't hear the water running after a few minutes.

"Kerry?" She called out as she dried her hands with a small towel and walked into their bedroom. She stopped short when she stepped through the threshold and a soft, knowing smile came to her lips at the sight of her wife curled up, still fully clothed, on their bed. Despite the ten minutes Kerry had been there, the redhead was already out cold as evidenced by the soft snores coming from her throat.

Sandy knew she should wake her to at least to make sure she ate something, but the peaceful expression on Kerry's face stopped her. Instead, Sandy gently pulled Kerry's glasses from her nose, slipped her shoes off her feet, and picked her crutch up off of the bed. Quietly, she placed the fragile frames on the bedside table, put the shoes near the closet door, and leant the crutch against the wall before shutting off the light and backing out of their room.

If she isn't up in an hour I'll wake her, Sandy told herself as she returned to the kitchen and put their dinner back in the oven to keep it warm; she needs her sleep.