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Courtship Rituals	By : KHolden Category: G through L > Lazytown Views: 4632 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lazytown, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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"So, were you planning to consult me about this wedding business?" Robbie asked in Faerie, when Sportacus came back down the next morning.
Sportacus shrugged. "Aunts always take over. It's traditional." He didn't seem terribly surprised that Robbie knew, but then his periscope and the way noise above ground echoed down here were probably already known to Sportacus by now.
"I was thinking more about the fact of having one, not so much the arrangements."
Sportacus laughed, and sat on the arm of Robbie's chair. "We're already married in the eyes of every elf alive, and legalities are unfortunately irrelevant here. It's really just a party."
"At which we announce to a whole town of humans we're ..." Robbie trailed off uncomfortably.
"Robbie, are you saying you want us to be closeted?" Sportacus asked incredulously, turning back to English for the last word, as a word for the concept didn't exist in the Faerie common tongue. "The Doctor and all the children already know. Any one of them could let it slip to Bessie, and then the rest of the town will find out pretty quickly. Making it clear that this," he took Robbie's hand, weaving their fingers together in a way that Robbie found disturbingly tender, "is normal by celebrating it is less likely to cause our friends discomfort than allowing rumours to spread."
"I think you mean your friends. I'll trust you," Robbie said, "but that doesn't mean I'm sure."
Sportacus grinned, dropped his hand, and leaned over to kiss him. It was another of those bafflingly soft kisses Sportacus favoured, this time given just enough bite to be properly pleasurable by Sportacus winding a hand into his hair and tugging.
Robbie pulled away for a second. "There has to be real cake, not just those cake-shaped fruit things Stephanie makes for your birthday."
"Of course. I doubt Stephanie would have it any other way."
Sportacia was using a tree branch in the park for some pull-ups when Stephanie walked past, carrying a backpack. She jumped down, and hurried after her.
"Off to school?" she asked, as she caught up.
Stephanie smiled shyly. "Yeah. What about you?"
"It's holiday time at the moment," Sportacia said, nervously twisting one of her braids around her finger. "I've got some homework, but I couldn't be here if I had to go to school." She paused. "May I walk you the rest of the way?"
Stephanie looked stunned for a moment, then recovered. "Sure."
It took some seconds of adjustment, but they discovered that trying to tuck Stephanie's hand into her elbow was rather awkward since Sportacia was the shorter of the pair, so Sportacia tucked her hand into Stephanie's elbow instead, which worked admirably, and they set off, both rather nervously.
It was barely a block to the school, which given the size of the town didn't really surprise Sportacia. One thing did, though: the school was quite clearly indicated by its sign to be LazyTown Elementary. She let go.
"Elementary school?" she asked, feeling a little strange. "I thought you were older than that."
"The school system assumes a human rate of growth," Stephanie said, staring at the line on the road just in front of Sportacia's boots. "I'm ... not quite."
"Oh," said Sportacia blankly. She wasn't at all surprised that Stephanie wasn't human, but it was strange trying to imagine what in the seelie and unseelie courts she could be that aged faster than humans did. "What are you then?"
"A Sprite. And I'm nearly ten."
"I'm an almost forty-four-year-old Elf," replied Sportacia, which finally made Stephanie look up, presumably in surprise.
"We're really not on the same time scale, are we?" Stephanie asked.
Sportacia shook her head. "I guess not. See you after school?"
"See you," replied Stephanie, and disappeared into the building.
Number Seven had just brought his soccer training exercise to a close, when his crystal beeped. "Someone's in trouble," he said, then added, "Number One?" when it told him who needed help. He hurried to the platform.
One didn't appear to be in any obvious trouble once the crystal had guided him to her, and it didn't prompt any further action, so he merely greeted her.
"Morning, sis," he said. "Are you all right?"
She shared a conversation of what must only have been minutes ago, made out, with adolescent melodrama, to be heartbreaking. Seven could hear the mental violin soundtrack.
"Prima Sportacia, you hardly know her," he pointed out.
"I know," she sighed, and sagged against him.
He put his arms around her and tucked her under his chin. "Don't be in such a hurry. Look at what a mess Ten got himself into by not thinking."
"I'm only forty," she said petulantly. "What's his excuse?"
"Mid-life crisis?" Seven suggested mildly.
"I thought mid-life crises were supposed to happen in mid-life. He's not even 150 yet." She paused, forehead wrinkling. "How fast do Gremlins age?"
"A little faster than Elves, but not so fast as to be an obvious reason not to do it. Unlike everything else about them."
She squeezed him a little tighter, then pulled away. As she did so, both their crystals beeped. Both crystal-bearers turned as one, and raced in the direction indicated. Seven was a little faster, and arrived in time to catch a curvy, blue-haired, middle-aged woman as she tumbled backwards for no apparent reason.
Seven lowered her to the ground, and One knelt beside her.
"Are you all right?"
"I feel a bit faint," she replied. "Thank you, Sp..."she started to say, then she focused her eyes properly, and realised he wasn't Ten. "You're not Sportacus," she complained, starting to sit up.
"Yes he is. He's just Number Seven, the one you know is Number Ten, our big brother," One explained. "I'm Number One. You can call me Sportacia, 'cause that's not so likely to confuse you."
Seven glanced down, then across at One. Both crystals continued to blink in perfect synchrony. Medical attention, they thought.
"I really think we ought to take you to the hospital," One said aloud. "You didn't just fall down, you fainted, that doesn't happen for no reason."
"One forty-two over 86," said Doctor Honey, pulling the stethoscope from her ears, and starting to pull the blood pressure cuff off. "That's too high, but high blood pressure alone doesn't cause faintness."
"It's not a change of life symptom, either," Bessie replied.
"You've been having peri-menopausal symptoms?"
"Not that I noticed, but I seem to have stopped, and I'm the right age."
"Stopped? Your periods? You're having amenorrhoea?" the doctor asked.
Bessie nodded.
"But you were regular before that?"
"Yes."
"How long since your last menstrual period?" The doctor scooted around the desk in her chair, and retrieved a specimen jar.
"Four months, maybe, but why ..."
"Are you sexually active?"
"I don't see what that's got to do with anything," Bessie said, affronted.
"Humour me. Go pee in the jar," Doctor Honey said, indicating the small bathroom off the examination room.
"Congratulations."
"What?"
"You're not menopausal, you're pregnant. Either that was a yes on the sexual activity question, or we better start calling you Mary."
"I'm far too old."
"You said yourself you have no peri-menopause symptoms. Everyone's different, it's perfectly normal for human menopause to be as late as 55."
"Goodness," said Bessie, resting her hands on her stomach, suddenly aware of how round it was. "Stephanie's going to have a cousin."
"That's assuming you both make it. I hate to be negative, Bessie, but you are a 46-year-old prima gravida who is showing signs of hypertension of pregnancy and has had no prenatal care before now. There are no guarantees even for a young healthy woman who is being looked after."
prima gravida doctor-speak for woman who is having her first pregnancy.
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Courtship Rituals