Knit

Most days, Felix liked to believe that he knew his wife quite well.

Like any good husband, he knew that Tamora preferred pumpkin pie over cherry, would always choose to wear something black if the option was open to her, and, after a hard day at work, was happiest when the two of them did nothing other than spend the evening snuggling. He knew for a fact that she could drink any of her soldiers under the table on any day of the week and still be fine the next morning to do her job, and he knew that the fact that she was able to do that was because he would use his hammer to take away the pain of the hangover would stay between them until the day they died. He knew just how to use his puppy-dog eyes to ever so slightly bend her will away from doing something dangerous towards a safer, more pleasant pastime, just as he knew that she knew that, if she really wanted something, he could never say ‘no.’ He knew just what buttons to push to get her riled up and angry, and he knew the words that it would take to calm her down once more. Like any good husband, Felix liked to believe that he knew his wife quite well.

However, there were some moments when he realized just how little he actually knew about her.

Like the day that he found out that Tamora was, in fact, a dog person. The two of them had heard through the game-vine that one of the newest games to be added to the arcade, a simulation where the player took care of animals and ran a pet shop, was in need of some temporary help as they waited for more permanent employees to be hired. Always one to help, Felix had convinced Tamora to join him for the afternoon as the owner interviewed a group of possible hirees, feeding and playing with the animals that had been left over from the day of players selling to in-game characters. She had eventually, grudgingly, agreed to help him, leaving behind her guns and armor for bags of kibble and hairbrushes. The game had been played many times that day, a perk of it being new, leaving only a few animals behind that needed their care. Within just an hour of their arrival, Felix had cleaned the last cage, filled the last set of bowls, and was ready to spend the rest of the time he had committed to watching the shop standing behind the counter.

When he had realized that he hadn’t seen his wife the entire time they had been there, an oddity considering that the shop wasn’t that large, it was with the greatest amount of concern that he had gone looking for her.

And had found her sitting in front of the exact same cage that she had first started on, playing with a fluffy white puppy that was the least terrifying thing he had ever seen. The moment she had realized that he was standing there, watching her murmur baby babble in the sweetest voice he had heard from her she had stopped, swiftly cleaning out the cage before returning the now exhausted pup to its bed. Her glare had been enough to keep him from saying the words that had been forming on his tongue, but from that moment on the memory had been burned into his mind, a reminder that the wife he so loved did indeed have a soft side, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

Or like the time that he found out just how much of a weakness she had for chocolate, a treat that she tended to deny herself on the grounds that it would harm her performance. It had taken weeks to finally break down her barrier after one of her men had accidently let it slip that she had a fondness for the candy, but, eventually, he had been successful in getting her to eat the homemade treat. What should have been a week’s worth was gone within an hour, and from that moment on he had kept a stash of it around, something sweet to lighten her mood whenever her players were poor.

Over the time that they had been together, there had been hundreds of moments like these, dozens of events that had led to some minor revelation about Tamora that Felix loved and cherished almost as much as the person herself. And with each bit of information that he gathered, it almost felt as if he was coming closer and closer to understanding her, to knowing her completely, inside and out. So, normally, any chance he got, Felix would leap at the opportunity to find out something new about his beloved wife.

This, however, was just weird.

Slowly opening the door to Tamora’s quarters, firmly ignoring the hesitant stares of the guards who were supposed to be keeping any and every one out of the forbidden room, it was with wide eyes and a dropped jaw that Felix once again looked at the scene before him, a small part of his mind struggling to accept what was clearly the truth.

Tamora was lying on her couch, clearly asleep if her even breathing and small snores were any kind of indicators. However, it was not like this was anything unusual, for even on the best of days it was common to find her napping, the harsh reality of her game draining her by the time the arcade was closed for Litwak’s lunch break. For the hour that they had, most of it would be spent with her asleep, recharging her batteries for the onslaught of gamers that they both knew were just waiting for the older man to return before beginning their assault. Often enough he would join her, sleeping just long enough to be in tip-top shape for his final few games of the day before night fell and they were left alone to their own devices.

Slipping silently past the door, his surprise and shock giving away to worry and curiosity, it was not the fact that his wife was sleeping that slowly drew Felix closer and closer to the object of his attention. It was the fact that his wife had fallen asleep while working on something that was quite visible in her hands that had drawn out his response.

First things first, it was pink.

Although she had come to accept the fact that the Sugar Rush, the first stop on their daily rounds so that they could watch the daily roster race, was destined to be nothing more than a pink puffball of sweetness, outside of that, she despised the color, avoiding it as if it was a cy-bug egg and she was without a weapon. Anything that she had come to own over her time in the arcade that was the unfortunate color had been banished to the back of her closet, never again to see the light of day. So, the fact that she willing holding it, almost clutching it in her sleep, was a cause to be concerned for her mental health.

Secondly, whatever it was was in the process of being created, and that process, if he was not mistaken, was knitting.

Felix had long since learned that his wife, despite the tough attitude she wore while in public, did have a softness to her. According to her backstory, before she had joined the space marines and become the son-of-a-gun leader her men needed, Tamora had been raised by a mother who had believed it was just as important to know how to take care of a house as it was to throw a proper punch, and so had made sure to pass on everything she knew to her budding tomboy of a daughter. Rarely had Tamora ever used these skills she had been forced to learn as a child, but still they were skills she had.    

Knitting, apparently, had been one of them.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Felix softly crept his way across the room until he was standing next to his wife. Gently uncurling her fingers from the needles that she had been using before she had fallen asleep, it was with the greatest care that he tugged the cloth free from her grip, intent on studying it to see what, exactly, it was.

It was this curiosity that sent him flying across the room as Tamora awoke to a strange presence standing over her, holding, as her mind saw it, two small, sharp knives that were raised to strike.

“Felix, what…” Tamora said sleeping as she pushed herself into a sitting position, her fist falling into her lap as she took in the scene. Her eyes widening as she realized just what she had done, it was only a matter of a moment before she was kneeling before him, helping to sit him upright as she tugged his hammer from his belt for him. “You okay, soldier,” she asked as she watched him tap his face with the tool, the worry clear in her voice and the silent apology written across her face.

“No harm done, Ma’am,” Felix replied with a smile, his features once again normal and free from the effects of the blunt-force trauma. “Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to see what you were holding.”

“I punch you,” Tamora said with a sigh and a shake of her head, though the disapproval in her voice was lessened by the slight smile on her lips, “and you’re the one to apologize. You sure you’re head’s alright, Fix-It,” she asked teasingly as she reclaimed the knitted cloth from him, carefully folding it in her lap before pulling him in for a greeting kiss. Her smile becoming a smirk as she pulled away to see the ‘honey glow’ that had flooded his cheeks, it was with a slight laugh that she leaned back, pushing the cloth behind her and out of sight. “So, what brings you here, Fix-It?”

“I wanted to see how your day was going,” Felix said distractedly as he tried to crane his neck to see her project, a frown crossing his face as she shifted along with him, blocking his already limited view. “I had noticed that none of your players had gotten very far today, so I was wondering how you were doing.”

“Rookies, every last one of them,” Tamora snorted as she recalled the morning’s players, none of whom had been able to tell which end of the gun they should point at the screen. “Hopefully the afternoon will be more promising. And it won’t work, you know.”

“It might have,” Felix said with a slight pout, his plans to ricochet off the far wall and grab the cloth as he passed falling apart at his wife’s words.

“Believe me,” she said cheekily, “it wouldn’t have. And you could just ask, you know. I might even tell yah.”

“What is it,” Felix asked as he leaned as far to the side as he could, craning his neck to its extent in an attempt to see the project that was behind his wife. Laughing as she pulled it back into view, it was with a soft smile that she held it up for him to see, pressing it against her stomach as she did to keep the cloth from bunching.

“It’s going to be a sweater.”

“I’m not trying to imply anything, Ma’am,” Felix said as he tilted his head, trying to work out in his mind just how, exactly, his wife would be fitting into the part of the sweater that she had knitted so far, “but I’m afraid that I have to say that I don’t think you’ll fit be fitting into it.”

“Good,” Calhoun replied with a smile, pushing herself to her feet so that she could stretch to her full extent, “because it’s not for me, though I do think that it will be just the right size when I’m done with it. And once it’s done, I think that I’ll make another in blue, just in case.”

“Why…” Standing there, staring at his wife, it with was with a deep, life-altering revelation that Felix’s words came to a halt, his mind wiped clean by the hint that he had just picked up on. Watching as she once again smoothed the fabric of the sweater against her stomach, the light, clingy material revealing the slight bump as the only other piece evidence that he would need, it was with a soft swear that Felix allowed himself to believe it could be true. “Jiminy jaminy,” he whispered softly, his eyes now easily picking out what had been lost on him before, his brain finally catching up and putting it all together. With that, to the sound of Tamora alternately asking if he was okay and laughing at his plight, Felix’s face became very good friends with the floor.

On most days, Felix was pretty sure that he knew everything he could about his wonderful wife. However, there were some days that he realized just how little he actually knew. And the day he found out that he was going to be a father beat them all.