Trying On Old Clothes
"Unf! Unh!" Loki was grunting and shimmying, trying to get into his leather coat. He was particularly insecure today, four and a half months pregnant, and feeling very, very fat. He reasoned that if he could get a glimpse of who he once was, he'd feel better about himself. Never once did it occur to him that the coat wouldn't fit.
He'd been at it for the better part of an hour now, and all he had to show for his efforts was a thin sheen of sweat coving his body. He sat up and looked at the clock, panting. Tom would be back from his meeting in a few hours.
The god changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt Tom had gotten him when he'd gone shopping for him, now too snug across the belly, and padded to the kitchen. A snack would calm his bruised ego. He mindlessly began stuffing himself with anything and everything he could find, not stopping until he felt a sharp stab in his overly full stomach. He held his swollen tummy with both hands, eyes widening at the way the shirt had rapidly risen over the swell, pulling at the waist of his jeans which were biting into his flesh. He unbuttoned them, allowing his burgeoning belly to spill into his lap in all its glory, sighing at the immediate relief the action granted.
"Ugh," he burped, feeling slightly disgusted with himself for going on such a binge. He absentmindedly rubbed his stomach, noting that the layer of fat that had settled there months ago was, once again, getting thicker. In fact, it was as thick as he could ever remember it being. He pinched it gently, saying to no one in particular, "There's no way that coat's going to fit now,"
***
"Lo?" Tom called a short time later.
"In here," replied the god sleepily from the kitchen. He was still seated at the table, fighting the affects of his food coma.
Tom looked at Loki's bloated stomach, brows knitted in concern. "Oh, sweetheart. What is it?"
"I *hic* feel so fat! M-my coat won't f-f-fit anymore, and I'm a whale!"
"Oh, dear," Tom said quietly. "Lo, do you remember what I said a couple weeks ago? About you being pregnant and not fat?"
"Th-then what's this?" Loki sobbed as he poked his fingers into his pudgy belly.
Tom rubbed over the red marks the god had left in his skin soothingly. "That? That's baby weight, Lo. It's completely different from fat. You know that, right?" he said calmly, gently, as if trying to convince a small child that the boogeyman wasn't hiding under his bed.
Loki nodded feebly and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I hate hormones," he said quietly, a soft blush creeping over his cheeks.
Tom smiled and kissed him tenderly. "I know. I was going to take you to dinner tonight but I think, under the circumstances, I'll take a rain check. If you're feeling better tomorrow, I'll take you shopping, then we can go to lunch, and feed the ducks in the park. Would you like that?"
"Very much. Just...don't tell anyone I fed the ducks, OK? They might not take me seriously anymore,"
That made Tom laugh harder than he had in a long time.