Five Buns Full: Chapter 8 (Patreon)

They were being watched.

Fuutarou wondered when he had first noticed the wandering eyes. Was it when they sat down? When she had licked the juice from his finger?

Nino made a soft noise, nuzzling his chest and leaning deeper into the crook of his arm. “You smell good,” she mumbled, unaware of everything outside of his touch.

Some of the eyes narrowed. Others turned away. They didn’t seem to know that he’d noticed. He didn’t blame them.

He could hardly look away from her, either.

Nino always looked like the bride at a wedding. An unseen spotlight came to her whenever she entered a room. It might be her hair, or her figure, or voice. People staring at her wasn’t anything new.

The strangest part about it was that Fuutarou noticed.

Across from them, six or seven seats down, an old man seemed to be glaring at a folder in his binder. Standing nearby, a pair of schoolgirls wearing red-and-white uniforms were whispering back and forth, short and hurried glances in their direction.

“It’s the soap I picked out. I can smell it through your scrubs.”

“Might be.”

“Did you take a shower at work?”

“Mhmm.”

There were other eyes too. Smaller glances, less stares than they were an acknowledgement of existence.

Another sniff, another nuzzle, another sigh of content. He reached a hand behind her head, lightly petting her, and caught the old man’s frown deepening while Nino softly mewled like a spoiled kitten.

Ahh, that was it. Public displays of affection often made people uncomfortable. He’d known that, somewhere. But was that really all that it was?

No. He realized he didn’t quite care what the man thought or what the girls whispered. They were where they’d always been, figures that should have existed only in the background of his thoughts. But they weren’t in the background. He’d noticed them.

Why had he noticed?

“Are you nervous at all?”

It took him a moment to understand he’d been asked a question. He looked down, seeing only Nino’s lovely blue eyes blinking at him through her bangs, most of her face still tucked to his chest.

“Hmm? Nervous? What about?”

Her eyes tightened near the corners and he could tell she was smiling. “I guess not.”

He tilted his head, looking down into her.

“About telling Papa I’m pregnant, you dork,” she said, her nose huffing out a tiny breath.

“Oh.” He leaned back in the seat. From the corner of his sight, he saw one of the schoolgirls bounce before giving a more animated whisper. “Should I be?”

He felt her shoulders lift and fall, then her hug became a little tighter. “I dunno. Maybe? I’m as new to this as you are. I’m the first one of the family to even get married.”

The other girl looked at them more openly, then ducked her head and whispered so loudly that he could almost make out the words. Others did, and he caught several more glances.

His hand tightened over Nino’s shoulder and he looked back down towards her, returning the shrug. “Honestly, I figured you’d want to be the one to tell him.”

“And, what, you’d just sit there and eat lunch?” her eyes narrowed.

He chuffed, leaning back and resting his head against the window. “Sounds like a plan.”

The miffed poke she gave to his stomach made his grin tug up just a bit higher, chuckling lightly. “Alright, alright. I can tell him if you’re worried about it.”

“I’m not worried!” she said, sitting upright. Then her eyes shifted, and her hands both went to her middle. “Well… maybe a little…”

Like a puzzle falling into its place, Nino had answered his internalized question. Fuutarou felt himself looking at her tummy, then away, trying not to laugh.

But they were staring, and he caught their eyes. Both the girls, the man, the others, they all seemed to see Fuutarou for the first time as he looked in their direction, meeting his gaze for only a hair before rushing away to pretend that they hadn’t, and it was just too much.

“Hey! What’s so funny?!” Nino demanded as he snorted and started to fall into a chortle. “You better not be laughing at-”

Her soft pink cheeks suddenly blanched and she looked down at her stomach, hands spreading wider before pinching her belly.

“Wait, you can’t already tell, can you?! I didn’t even eat that much!!”

Her fingers pinched an inch of soft flesh, perfectly punctuating the exclamation with both a soft moan of doe-like denial and Fuutarou’s highly amused laugh.

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“Were they really?!” Nino asked, then let out a low whine before burying her burning cheeks into her hands. “Ugggh… That’s so embarrassing!!”

He started chuckling again, the bastard, and it only got worse when she started swatting at his arm. The one that wasn’t carrying the plastic bag that contained her boxed cheesecakes.

“Don’t laugh! You should have said something sooner!!”

“Why?” Fuutarou asked, raising an amused eyebrow. “So you could have scared them off with your death glare?”

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes and she folded her arms, coming behind him as they approached the turnstile at the exit of the train station.

“They should keep their eyes to themselves!” she declared, still hot. “What we do is none of their business!!”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, and her glare intensified as she tried to figure out if he was  actually agreeing or just trying to placate her.

She then flicked his elbow, just in case.

The sun was high in the sky over Hachinomori as the couple exited the station alongside a dozen other commuters, joining dozens more on the sidewalk as they turned East. She wasn’t sure if she picked up her pace or if he had slowed his, but he’d offered his unused arm and she’d taken it, moving together amongst the crowd of pedestrians.

“Gaah,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “So annoying.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice. Especially when you grabbed your stomach like that.”

Nino’s pigtails could have been deadly weapons, flinging rapidly as she twisted and shook while wishing she could crunch herself into a ball and disappear. “Nyaaaaah, I don’t wanna think about that!! What if someone recognizes me?!”

“Recognizes you?”

She turned to him, pouting, “I’m a business owner, you moron!” before her voice took on a husky, mocking voice. “‘Oh, good afternoon Mrs. Uesugi, I saw you playing with your big pregnant belly on the train the other day. Sure you’re not sampling too much of your own cooking?’”

“Please,” Fuutarou snorted, giving her a sharp grin. “You’re not even that big.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning her nose up. “Some people should just mind their own…”

A bell chimed inside of Nino’s head, and her voice failed her.

As her pace slowed, the soft redhead turned to her husband, her eyes glimmering dangerously. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “‘That… big…?!’”

She saw the moment of realization wash over him. It started with his shoulders sharpening, then his eyes going wide and his expression dipping. She watched the narrow pupil shift to her, and then, with all the boldness of a moron and the brashness of the beast, she saw as her precious husband decided to lean into it.

“I mean, you did get two cheesecakes,” he smirked, his posture falling to that easy relaxation with that lovely smirk as he shook her bags. “You know these are fried, right? Jeez.”

Her nostrils flared and the glimmer became a pair of azure stars. Her mouth opened, and you could almost see the flickers of flame rising up from her throat.

Then Fuutarou lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders. She could feel muscle in his arm flex as he squeezed her, smell the scent of his soap as he held her close. The glare turned away, flickering back to his smirk, then forward again.

She could have kicked him. She might have, if she didn’t know it’d only make him walk taller, the bastard. The deviousness inside of his handsome eyes, his lips lifted like the edge of a dagger.

How she wished she could just stop and kiss him.

They’d made it a handful of paces before he warmly managed, “I dunno what you’re getting mad about. All I said was you’re not that big!”

It was bait. She knew it was bait. She took it anyways.

“I’m not ‘big’ at all, you ass!” she shouted, bumping him with the side of her hip.

It made him chuckle, which made her frown, then snort, then chuckle, then giggle, then Nino huffed and he shrugged and she could have just killed him. She settled on sticking out her tongue and using her nails on his arm like a pincushion.

Which resulted in exactly the thing she expected. His handsome smirk turned to her, comforting and strong, as if her nails were less than a mosquitos nibble. It was a smile that could have come from marble, striking and sharp, and it made Nino feel as if she were melting like a redheaded marshmallow.

Nino shook her head, rolling her eyes, but found her hand reaching up to his while her other went to her belly, and she wondered what their baby would think of her foolish parents.

“If anyone was going to recognize you in public, you think they’d have done it by now,” Fuutarou bridged. “That, or you’d hear from someone who was mixing you up with your sisters.”

It took a moment for Nino’s thoughts to focus. Another passed, and the girl felt her eyes go wide, the blush rushing from her glowing cheeks. “Ohhh… nooooo…” she groaned, rubbing at her face.

“What?”

Her lips puckered, as if she’d just sampled a too-fruity piece of her own lemon cupcakes, but only after looking at him did she felt the temperature returning at an embarrassed crawl. She had to look away, up towards the nearby street guideposts. Adverts, displays, anything to keep the thought from taking hold of her-

“Don’t be a baby,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “Come on, I won’t laugh.”

“You’re gonna,” she muttered, her lips closing tighter against the sour taste of a phantom dessert. Even so, there was a warmth in her belly and a movement on her shoulders. She needed to pass a hand over her mouth, struggling to focus on just walking forward and keeping her expression solid.

“How can you know if you won’t tell me?”

“Because I’m trying not to…” she admitted, then bumped him with her hip, flustered hands playing with her right pigtail. “God. And I was so proud of it, too!!!”

The blushing bride could feel his patient watch, plodding along on her heels and trying to swallow her own damned laughter. But he caught her eye and she felt herself pulled to him before groaning and leaning into his side.

She turned towards the street, hiding her expression while the pout slowly transforming into an embarrassed grin. Her shoulders quavered slightly with a suppressed giggle before she sighed and said, “Few weeks ago, one of the counter diners left a tip with his ticket. I thought it was weird but Raiha noticed he’d written, ‘Congratulations on your diet!’ on the bill.”

She was thankful that she couldn’t see him, but she could feel his shift. The silent air he took in, the light movement of his torso and waist. He managed to keep it quiet, the loudest part being the shaking of her dessert-bag, which only made her further remember…

“Raiha and me had some chocolate cake to celebrate…” she groaned, pinching her nose. “I had two pieces…”

A rapid series of snorts came but when her glare swiveled up to her husband, his expression was as straight as steel. She began to look away but found herself snap back as she heard the plastic ruffle once more.

For half a block, they walked like, blue daggers daring the man to break.

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, but his voice, like his expression, remained solid. “And you think he might have confused you with…”

She felt herself exhale, the embarrassment struggling to stifle her own amusement and slowly failing. “Well, I doubt it was Ichika.”

Another step, another heartbeat, another moment. Cars passed them by. People talked on all sides. Their attention was directed to a hundred windows with a thousand sales. But the bunny and her wolf were the only two people in the whole world.

“Must have thought you’d married a really good dietician.”

It was too much. Her snort fractured his metallic delivery, and the pair cracked into a heightening laugh, each further fueling the other. Nino held her face in her hands, feeling the laugh shake her belly and lift her blush higher and higher while Fuutarou’s arm pulled her to him and he kissed her hair.

“Aggggh… That’s terrible,” Nino shook. “I really can’t believe her. Gosh, if anyone even mentioned the word ‘diet’ near her, I imagine she’d start to melt.”

“Which do you mean?”

She jabbed his side, though she joined him in his terrible, horrible, wonderful snicker. “You’re so mean!”

“Hey, you laughed!” he replied. “That means that it’s okay, and that you can’t be mad.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, “I read it in a book somewhere.”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes before reaching into him and delivering a flurry of pokes. “I was laughing about you being anythinglike a dietician!!” she said, which was only slightly a fib. “You’re the reason I was dieting in the first place!”

“Pfft, okay. This coming from the girl who bought two cheesecakes.”

She shrugged out of his hold and began clawing at his arm, feeling herself smile and gush and blush and her heart beat so strongly as her husband laughed.

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“Mggh… How much farther?”

“It’s just across the street from the hospital.”

“You’ve said that,” she pouted. “How much farther is that?”

“About two blocks.”

Nino felt her throat ripple in an unsatisfied purr. Her feet hurt, and it was making her impatient.

As if reading her mind, Fuutarou said, “You know, you don’t have to wear heels everywhere you go.”

“We’ve been over this! I’m a business owner, I’ve got to look the part!”

“And that’s why you wear your hair in cute little pigtails.”

She punched him. Lightly, because he’d called them cute, so all it did was make him chuckle again, and she took his arm and leaned against him, enjoying his warmth and his weight and his scent.

Abruptly, Nino remembered the train ride. She suddenly realized her body, her volume, and the negative space between her and her husband, and the attention caused by their public affections.

She let go of him and straightened, plainly looking around and wondering if anyone in the crowd had been looking at them.

She didn’t like the idea that she hadn’t noticed people watching them. She’d caught eyes before, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d noticed someone even looking in her direction, much less checking her out or whispering about her.

It was something that she never really paid any attention to. Twenty-five, married, wearing a soft band of silver upon her ring finger. Even in high school, her friends would tease her for never noticing boys. It was as if they just hadn’t existed until…

Nino felt her frown deepen, looking at Fuutarou’s un-held arm before, to her surprise, it came towards her. She glanced up to see him watching her with his eyebrows raised, offering the appendage.

She took it. And Nino stopped thinking about all the people she didn’t care about, because there was only one person on Earth as tactless as her, and she loved him for it.

“How much further?”

“Well, you can see the hospital. So it’s just up ahead.”

Her eyes flicked to the road where a bustle of cars slowly moved along through the traffic. Colorful flashes of metal and steel. Personal, taxis, she wondered if they could have taken a bus. She’d never been good about checking the times.

“We’d have gotten here a lot quicker if you had a car,” she said.

Fuutarou snorted. “You mean if you had a car. If we got one together, it’d just end up yours.”

“Mmm… probably,” she nodded. “That’s why you’ve got to get that bike.”

He let out a hum that might have been an affirmation or a dismissive one, though she appreciated his silent indulgence.

Nino loved motorcycles. Large, powerful cruisers, fast racing sports, even simple but speedy scooters. She had a magazine subscription from Suzuki Cycles, even if it was largely because she could claim it as a business expense as one of several magazines provided at her café, and only ever really just looking through at the pictures.

But it was only ever a fantasy, as true as the love that she had for horses. The redhead had spent many a tea-and-cake break leafing through pages, picturing herself sitting upon the vibrating beasts, but she’d only ever ridden upon the back of one.

A small motorbike, driven by the man that she married.

Like before, Nino could almost see the moment playing out on the nearby shop windows. She could hear the rumble of the bike, feel the vibration between her thighs and her knees. She thought she might recognize the smell of gas, but really, she only remembered the scent of the boy. He’d smelled like sugar and dough, with a light scent of frosting, and he smelled strongly of sweat.

Her hair was so short, and he was so… well, he still had a lot of growing to do.

Or did he?

After all, that’s where she’d first said it. Those three little words. And it’d been so easy, too. They’d just come right out, right after…

Right after he had insulted her weight…

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Fuutarou wondered what he’d done this time.

Was it the cheesecake thing? No, he could tell she was happy about having so much. As dumb as it was, she had her thing about twos. One cheesecake, and she’d have complained about all of the calories or the sugar that it might have. ‘You get me too many sweets,’ ‘You let me eat too much.’ Nino had a Master’s Degree in Bratty Whinging.

With two cakes, she’d have started on the first already if they’d had the utensils.

It had to be her belly, which, yes, was clearly a belly. Nino was soft, and warm, and, try to deny it, she’d always been squishy. Some areas were… squishier than others, and Fuutarou was ready to admit he had especially enjoyed those squishier parts, but it didn’t really matter much to him where she carried it.

Squishy was just a part of her nature. A fact which he was glad for, because if Nino had an ounce of muscle inside of her arm, she’d probably break his fingers with how tightly she was clutching his hand.

Although, he didn’t see why that was really his fault…

“You getting’ tired?” he asked.

“No.”

“Hmm.”

Yup. He’d done something. That she hadn’t already told him what it was meant it was likely one of those ‘irrational’ ones she’d talked about, irritations which even she couldn’t describe without getting jumbled, and which usually faded the moment she had a fork in her hand.

His fault she’d gained wedding weight. Mhmm.

He’d never understand why he enjoyed that so much.

Fuutarou had wanted to ask if she’d noticed the older woman, who had kept looking at her and tutting her tongue, after they’d lost her half-a-block back, but Nino had gone from her usual to this sudden quiet. He’d ask her later, or, more likely he’d probably forget.

For now, it was enough that he was aware. He’d have to make sure she started paying more attention too, but that could wait until after the pregnancy.

She’d enough things to worry about, being a big softie Mama.

“What the heck are you smiling about?”

Fuutarou felt himself squint before looking to Nino, matching her suspicious leer.

“I’m smiling?” he asked with a frown.

“You still are,” she said. “You’re doing that… thing. Smiling with your eyes.”

“My eyes don’t smile.”

Nino’s glare sharpened. “Just tell me, you ass.”

Fuutarou hummed, looking away. He scanned the nearby block, a long stretch of tall buildings that were all different shades of a soulless gray. There was next to no space this close to the hospital, so most businesses were forced to build upwards rather than out.

He was looking for the familiar hint of green when he felt Nino’s thumb gently but firmly prod the back of his hand. “Tell me~” she whined. “Maybe I want to smile about it too!”

“Hmm,” he hummed, and he became aware of the smirk pulling up at his side. “Oh, just thinking about lunch. Or, second lunch, I guess.”

The grip tightened. It hurt now, pinching the vein in hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his eyes catching the hue he was looking for, “I’ll make sure you don’t pick out another dessert.”

He wondered if they’d make it to the restaurant before his fingers turned blue. He also wondered if his wife had begun sweating from the long walk, or if it was because the heat of the spotlight was getting to the bride and her pregnant blush.

Seconds passed as they walked in hand in hand, a comfortable pain and a sweltering silence. He wanted her to speak up, to hiss or to do more than tighten her grip. The pinch on his right made the weight of the cheesecakes feel so much greater upon his left, which made the smile sparkle inside his blue eyes.

Then, something happened.

As they drew closer to the emerald insignia of The Dragon’s Belly, as the scent of roasted chicken and stir-fried beef came over the pair, they found their attention pulled down to the low, wanting purr, which visibly rumbled from Nino’s belly.