I really dislike not being ahead, but this is all I got for now and I really appreciate your reviews so much, Goku275 and Guest, so I'll post it anyway! Thank you guys!
Hope you'll enjoy.
Jellal frowned upon entering his office. Just as the day before, his bin was a mess. A stray tissue lay next to it, and he blamed his overtime and wifely distraction on missing the woven basket.
Rather content not to be needing as many tissues anymore – though his bin had to be emptied most of all offices that week – Jellal allowed himself a snuffle before starting work. He closed the door behind Erza, taking her coat while she set down her protégé, relieving him of his own.
When Jellal strolled over to his desk, bending down to pick up the runaway to join its kind amongst the crumpled sheets of paper, a hand brushed his back. Just below his back. He wanted to raise a brow, but when he met her eyes as she glanced over her shoulder, hand being tugged on to follow the boy behind the wall of shelves, it was not the lust he anticipated.
It was certainly there, she had dropped enough hints, but the way her gaze lingered longingly, almost confusedly, he realised she missed him. Not simply their Era-mansion traditions, but to hold and kiss him. The latter, he knew, was a torture since it would have to stay prohibited until his cold had passed completely.
He had been more than annoyed by the way the countless cups of tea had hindered his work, the trips to the bathroom even more frequent than those of his pregnant wife, but a single glance from her was enough for him to ignite the flint beneath the teapot at once. He missed her, too.
The Guild Hall was lit up with garlands and tinsel, glasses clinking, people dancing on the tables and Mira was for some inexplicable reason spinning in circles. Christmas, Erza thought, though she could not shake the feeling that it was not yet time. What about Fantasia?
A hand touched her arm, and she turned with a smile to see shining green eyes in a plump child's face. She blinked repeatedly when noticing the lack or red or blue hair, but spotted a flashy, curly pink instead. Next to the girl, another one tugged on her arm even more heftily, this time with blue hair but brown eyes. Not Jellal's hair colour – Wendy's. So if this was Wendy, then the other one was not her baby, but…
Erza felt her dream dissipate when her hand was being pulled on once again. Her body gave the smallest of lurching feelings as she awoke, and when she blinked her eyes open, she was greeted with a horizontal view of her husband's office. It was still daylight filtering through the high windows in her back, though the orange tinge told her how evening was approaching.
Jellal might have already returned from Ambrose's office.
Registering the hand on hers, she looked into big blue eyes.
"Is everything alright?" She croaked.
"Can we play?" The boy asked instead of answering. He did not look unsettled, rather bored. He was speaking – in other words, Jellal was not there.
"Of course," Erza yawned. Arching her back, she shuffled to sit up where she had fallen asleep on the couch. "Give me just a minute," she rubbed her eyes.
"Why?" He insisted. She had to smile. She was already excited to answer the many questions of her own son or daughter. If they would be anything like her, those questions would be crazy and random like her own to her beloved. She had yet to think of a way to persuade Jellal to tell their child the truth about their past.
"Because I'm tired," Erza sat up properly, then patted the cushion next to her as an invitation. One that was promptly taken.
"Why are you tired?" He proved to be excellent for practising those perpetual enquiries. He had a sweet way about him, shy and not annoying, something she greatly enjoyed.
"Because I'm pregnant," she said.
"What's 'pregnant'?"
"It means I'm having a baby," Erza had to smile more and more. Her hand wandered to her belly as it did whenever she roused. He did not make the connection, tilting his head.
"Why?" Was all he could come up with.
"Because I wanted to," she had to chuckle. He frowned, then looked around as if searching for something. She caught on just before he could ask, amusement sparking in her eyes.
"Where is it?"
"It's not yet born," she explained. His frown intensified.
"I thought you wanted one,"
"I do," she put a hand over his where he had gone back to holding her arm, "but these things take time,"
"How much time?"
"Still over three months," she conceded. He blinked repeatedly, then let her go to count on his fingers. She put her hand on his knee, the other still mellowly rubbing her belly. His brow creased fiercely, and he muttered numbers under his breath, impressing her where she had thought him not to be able to count high amounts or even read yet.
"But that's…" he lost count, folding in his fingers as if to hide a failed calculation from her, "so many weeks!" He concluded. She had to chuckle again, regarding his wide eyes affectionately. How could she tell him now that the entire pregnancy took nine months?
"It is," Erza simply decided.
"Why don't you get one now?" He asked and she almost had to laugh.
"It's not ready yet," she said, intrigued by his way of thinking. "Do you have other sources I can get one from more quickly?" She laughed this time, but he nodded firmly. He seemed so proud of his knowledge.
"They come from hospitals," he illuminated. She raised a brow.
"And how exactly do hospitals get them?" She returned. It made him ponder, but soon enough, he shrugged.
"They… have them. Like the kitchen has salad," he enumerated on his fingers, "and sausages," he drawled, "and… and chocolate,"
"And where does the kitchen get its items from?" She went on, further puzzling him – as if his worldview just got blown up. For someone being served and cooked for his whole life, it was not too much of a surprise.
Smiling, Erza put her arm around him, tucking him closer to her.
"You see, the apples you buy actually have to grow on trees first,"
"I know that!" He immediately declared. "We have a cherry tree in our garden!" He proudly puffed out his chest.
"It works a little like that for babies, too," Erza said. He stared back, bewildered. "They're not just there, but they have to grow," she said, and he nodded. "Unripe cherries don't taste sweet, do they?" He shook his head. "And babies who are born too early aren't healthy," she oversimplified for him to understand.
"Do you have a babytree in your garden?" He asked. It made her laugh again. She really could not wait for her own child's conclusions of how the universe worked.
"No," she chuckled, ruffling his hair. When wanting to take her hand off, his own snapped up to hold hers there, grabbing on and replacing it on his head. Her smile softened. She complied wordlessly and it allowed him to relax again. "Since the baby is a human, I have to grow it myself," she rubbed her belly, and this time, he followed the gesture with his eyes. Unbelievingly, they expanded to the size of saucers. "Here," she took his hand, replacing it over her navel.
His eyes flickered as they relaxed, mind racing with the newly acquired knowledge – not quite believing it to be true. As if on cue, something Erza had learned to trust in as it seemed her baby liked to respond to her ministrations, there was a kick. The boy nearly leapt off the sofa. His hair stood on end for a second, but then he scrambled close with his knees, eagerly pressing both hands where his first had been.
"Woah," he gasped, "it's in there?" He gaped at her jumper, then plucked at it, earning himself a raised brow. Still, she let him, amused by the way confusion set back in when he was met with nothing but normal, rounded skin. She realised he had expected to see a baby.
"This is its shield to protect it until its ready,"
"Like a banana," he whispered excitedly.
"Like a banana," she smiled broadly, holding back more laughter. She was glad his train of questions ended there, not too keen on having to explain how one could not just peel the shelter away as with fruit. Or how the baby got there in the first place.
That was another thing they would have to be ready to answer – she did not need another disaster such as with Wendy – but at least they would have years to prepare.
The door opened, spooking the boy back into hiding in Erza's side. She smiled when recognising the steps of her husband.
A light thump announced him dropping his documents on his desk, followed by him blowing his nose, the overcrowded bin rustling as a result. His feet dragged a little, and when he came into view from between the shelves, she could not help the mildly pitying smile at how exhausted he looked.
Not even keeping his distance with the boy right there, Jellal merely trudged over to the couch, his knees thudding to the ground in front of her. His head dropped into her lap. Not threatening the boy in the least with his eyes hidden from view, his hair was a mess over her skirt and half of his own face.
Erza removed her hand from her belly, pulling down her jumper, then straddling her fingers through her husband's hair. Now that was what she had missed in her odd dream.
"Tired?" She smiled warmly through her voice.
"What gave me away?" Jellal muttered, making her smile. He sounded hoarse, perhaps due to discussing the case, she pondered, knowing his cold to be drawing to an end. She prayed it did – she doubted she could resist his lips for much longer. She hoped he would never have to go on business trips or long missions again, not when hardly a week left her deprived and needy. A week of him being right there, yet somehow out of reach.
Running her hand through his hair, she massaged his scalp. It lured out a deep sigh.
"You used the conditioner I gave you," she had to smile. Jellal returned a hum. "It makes it really soft," she enjoyed stroking his hair as much as he did, and from the corner of her eye, she noted how the boy had come out of his hiding – not scared anymore, but curious.
Jellal held perfectly still, pretending not to notice any change when a second, much smaller hand tentatively tapped his head, then dared to feel the silkiness she had commended.
"I wanted to make casserole tonight," Jellal announced. It spooked the boy for the split of a second, but when there was no further movement, no prying eyes through the long fringe, he returned to feeling strand after strand. Erza's features brightened, eyes sparkling with the prospect of what might have become her favourite savoury dish Jellal created.
Overjoyed, she barely took notice of how her new fosterling was comparing the smoothness of her hair to that of her husband.
"Dessert will be healthy then – Ambrose said he'll think of something," Jellal continued. She pouted, yet did not protest. "We have to go shopping for the casserole though, but I can go while you two head on home," he dared addressing the boy, who surprisingly did not react any further than being on his guard.
"No, don't worry," Erza shook her head, "I'd love to come." She kept on caressing his scalp, then turned to the boy. "Have you ever been shopping?" She asked. He clamped his lips shut, though replied in the form of shaking his head. Her smile returned. "Then it's about time."
He had loved shopping. Exploring the shelves, falling victim to advertisements, watching the cashiers calculate the final sum – it had been an adventure unlike anything the boy had ever experienced. He was the son of a rich investor after all – a wealthy child living with servants and chefs and every possibility not to move a finger if he so wished.
He had enjoyed himself to the extent of not waiting for Erza to finish comparing prices, instead having briefly poked Jellal's leg in an unspoken request of being handed sweets from a higher shelf.
Back at the mansion, they unpacked, then waited. When Erza became more and more hungry, Jellal started on making dinner. Even after having eaten and washing up, there was still no sign of Ambrose at the door, and Jellal knew he had not misunderstood – there was still vouching to be done; he had to come out of legal aspects, not merely dessert.
They had talked their evening over when finally having gotten somewhere with the case. The missing servants were still a mystery, as well as the family, but the police would have to be kept under surveillance to exclude the possibility of them having left out any information on purpose – Jellal had begun to see a pattern.
In Caelum, the infiltrated police had been a nuisance when it had come to reliable sources. For all they knew, the money of the family was quite the attraction for most anyone, and the police did have the means of locking people up.
They had looked into old applications of the staff, the police reports, neighbour's accounts, finally even the business concept of the head of the family – basically taken the entirety of documents of the mansion's desk and half of the archive apart – until deciding to call it a day.
Talking about something other than the case was always a relief, and Jellal had welcomed the idea of Ambrose balancing out a delicious yet calory-loaded meal with a lighter dessert. And yet, going home to get a recipe and ingredients could not take this long. He was old, not slow.
"Do you know where he lives?" Erza asked where she was sprawled out on the sofa, reading messages on her lacrima. Her unoccupied hand was stroking the boy's back, his entire body squeezed comfortably between her and the backrest.
"No, and the Council's closed for the night…" Jellal was pacing by now. Ambrose was never late, not when there was no reason to. He might have fallen on the stairs or anywhere else, there could have been an emergency with his wife, or worse – there was still a mysterious case to be solved, and with them at the top of investigations and that not quite kosher inspector on the loose…
"Here," Erza brought her husband back to the present. He halted in his tracks, staring at the lit-up screen she held out to him. Jura's name was shining back at him. Taking the device, Jellal selected their chat, then reconsidered and called directly.
It was not much later that he rushed down the dark streets and into an unknown house, finding not only no trace of his co-worker, but the entire place forsaken.