A/N: Just something to wet my feet again, since I've either been too busy or too sick to be creative.
Number ? in The Watermelon Saga. Someone give me a title, please.
This was proofread/edited exactly zero times.
Shego leaned against the kitchen counter in the lair, waiting for the microwave. She set a hand on her swollen abdomen as she stared impatiently at the counting down of the poorly-lit neon numbers on the dirty screen, willing them to move faster.
Her back ached. Everything was sore. She'd not wanted to get out of bed to get her snack, but when she'd woken Drakken to set him after the task he'd only gotten as far as sitting up before falling asleep again, head jerking back every few seconds and mumbled, unintelligible words slipping from between his lips.
That was why she had ended up in the kitchen at three o'clock in the morning, cubing watermelon herself and then dirtying her fingers with the moist grittiness of goat cheese as she sprinkled it on top of the fruit in the bowl. In her opinion, as pregnancy cravings went, there were far worse things than watermelon.
She opened the microwave at one second to go, avoiding the annoying beeping that couldn't be stopped, and then drizzled balsamic on her small delight before grabbing a fork and heading back to the bedroom. If nothing else, at least Drakken had gained a multitude of new recipes from her single fixation during pregnancy.
When she re-entered the bedroom, she was surprised to still find Drakken upright. More surprising, and confusing, was watching him attempt to brush his hair with his tired eyes pinched shut in frustration and a frown wrinkling his features. Shego's lips slowly curled in amusement as she realized that he was holding the brush backwards, the bristles facing outward, and it was the wooden paddle he was stroking against his wild black locks and failing of course to pull through.
"Drakken," Shego said as she approached, chewing a bite of her warm concoction. "What are you doing? Go back to sleep."
"Can't..." He grumbled, not opening his eyes. "I'm combing the watermelons out of my hair."
Shego nearly choked as she began chewing another morsel, watching again the agitated look on her husband's face as he seemed intent on yanking at his hair with the wrong side of the brush. In her own sleep-deprived state, she could picture what must be in his mind-tiny green-striped orbs tumbling over him, their vines entwining in his hair and clothes.
She watched his distressed features for a moment longer before setting the bowl down and moving to take the brush from his hands.
"I'll get them for you," she said, settling in behind him and beginning to run her fingers through his hair.
A long sigh, more coherent than his words, left his lips, and he slowly sank back against her. Even in his exhausted state he was somehow mindful of her large baby bump and didn't put his full weight on her. She felt a pang in her heart, and instead of offering a quip about his ridiculous imaginings, his tiredness, or his falling asleep against a pregnant woman, she kissed his cheek and carefully shifted over to help him lie down again.
He was snoring before his head hit the pillow, and she wondered how they were going to manage when the baby actually arrived if this was as well as they got along in just the third trimester. But that was a question for later, she mused as she snuggled up against Drakken's side. For the present, she decided that she may have finally had enough watermelon.