She had felt him slip out of bed, but hadn't thought much of it, being too concerned with sleeping in. It was a Sunday morning after all, and she was expecting a lazy day with Tim, reading the paper and not getting dressed until noon.
Their morning routine had not changed significantly in the first several days of their marriage; in fact nothing had changed. Tim getting up early on a Sunday was unusual, but maybe he was busy doing something.
Delilah managed to fall back asleep. Now that she knew of her "condition", she was never surprised to find herself exhausted at the end of the day, much less the beginning of the day.
Her eyes opened again, only for her to catch Tim in the act. He was carrying in a breakfast tray.
"Hey, honey," She rubbed a hand over her face, sitting up. "What time is it?" she asked.
"Ten," he set down the tray in front of her, before leaning in for a kiss. "Good morning."
"What's the occasion?" she asked, looking it over. French toast and decaf coffee- Tim had been firm on that; well, that in exchange for him being more careful at work. As well, there was a vase on it with a red carnation.
"It's Mother's Day," he explained with a grin, sitting next to her on the bed.
"Tim, I'm not a mom yet."
"Not yet," he pointed out, squeezing her hand. "So I made you breakfast."
"And got me flowers."
"The other bouquet is sitting on the counter in the kitchen," he admitted.
"Oh, come here you." She pulled him in for another kiss. "You didn't have to do this, Tim."
"First Mother's Day, I think it's pretty important."
"You didn't plan anything for today, did you?" she asked, picking at her food.
"No. I've kind of noticed that whenever I plan something, it always goes sideways." He paused, narrowing his eyes as he noticed. "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no Tim, it's nothing, it's just having my food brought in on a tray reminds me of the hospital."
He winced, "Sorry."
"No, no don't be. This looks amazing. But a little too much for one person. Don't," she said, holding up a finger as he opened his mouth, "say anything about me eating for two."
He merely rolled his eyes, and swiped a piece of French toast off her plate, stuffing it in his mouth.
She wrinkled her nose, "You picked that up from Tony, didn't you?"
He said something through his mouth of French toast, and then grinned, swallowing it. "I suggest you enjoy it," he informed her.
"You acting like Tony? I'll pass, hon."
"No, not me acting like Tony. I meant, you should enjoy the lazy Sundays for as long as possible, because this time next year, little Peanut will be here, and life as we know it will be very different."
"Well thankfully, Tim, we have a whole team full of babysitters."
"Did you mean my coworkers?"
"No, Tim, I meant the Director… yes your coworkers!" She nudged his shoulder.
He nudged her back, "It's too early for sarcasm. I got up to make you breakfast."
"I noticed. Very romantic, but just so you know Tim, it's in the rule book. If you're this sweet at the beginning of our marriage, then you have to be like this in fifty years. Breakfast in bed and everything."
He kissed her on the cheek, "That won't be hard. You're making it sound like I won't still be in love with you in fifty years."
"I can't speak for you, Tim, but I will love you forever."
"Loving you has been the easiest thing I've ever done. Even if life has had other ideas."
She smiled at him, "Damn it, Tim. Now I'm going to cry."
"Don't do that, or we'll both end up blubbering."
She giggled through her unshed tears. "Tim, your hair is sticking up like a porcupine."
He put his hand to his head in alarm, before looking over at the mirror, sighing at his reflection. "Delilah, honey, you knew what you were getting into when you married me. That does include the bedhead."
She looked closer, smiling, "I actually think that was my fault."
"You're obsessed with my hair," he pointed out.
"And you spend hours playing with mine, so you're not any better. You're also prone to staring with those puppy-dog eyes," she teased.
"Well you're just so beautiful, how could I not?"
She nodded, rolling her eyes. "Ever the romantic."
"Okay, if you can answer my question right, you get your present."
"You didn't get me a present," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"'Course I did."
"And what if I get it wrong?"
"You know I'll give it to you anyway, because you can pretty much talk me into anything. It almost got us kicked out of Comic Con."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Don't remind me."
"Best fictional mom?" he asked.
She closed her eyes, thinking, before opening them again with her answer. "Hm… Molly Weasley. Or Elastigirl."
"Really?" he asked, grinning at her.
"Yes, Tim, sue me, I'm a nerd."
He let go of her hand to pull a box out of his pocket, "Yes, and that's why I love you."
She narrowed her eyes at it. "That looks expensive."
"Well it is. Kind of." He held out the box. "Happy Mother's Day, Delilah."
She took the box, and unwrapped it, biting her lip as she opened it. And then she smiled up at him. "You're a huge dork."
She was close to tears though, staring down at the little silver necklace with a sun pendant, and the matching earrings. There was a note inside, one that even without the added influence of hormones, would have caused her to cry.
Delilah-
You will always be my light, and an amazing mother. I love you honey.
Love Tim.
"Hey, hey, are you okay?" Tim asked, moving in closer as a tear streaked down her cheek. "Delilah?" He was such a natural worrier- it was to be expected, of course, circumstances considered- and it made her smile through her tears, her shoulders shaking. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, moving the breakfast tray aside, as she giggled wetly into his shoulder, burying her face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of her husband. He stroked a hand through her hair. "Shh, hey."
"Tim," she said softly, muffled in his shoulder. "I love you."
She could tell he was grinning, even though she wasn't looking up at him, "I love you too, honey. Do you like it?"
She pulled away and looked up at him, shaking her head. "No, I don't like it, Tim, I love it. Come here, you."
She pulled him into a kiss, her smile disappearing as she pulled away, "What else are you hiding, Mr. McGee?"
"Can't fool you can I?" he asked, teasing.
"I'll hit you with my Conrad pyramid."
"It's out in the living room," he said, smiling as he moved away.
"I'll run you over with my wheelchair," she tried again.
"I love you too. Want help putting on the necklace?"
She nodded, and he brushed her hair aside, fastening the necklace, and then back to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Thank you," she said softly.
"I love you too," there was a smile in his voice, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him, breathing him in. They lay like that for a few minutes, before he asked "How are you feeling today?"
"Tired."
"That's normal," he sounded relieved.
"Is this how you're going to be until the baby is born?" she asked, only pretending to be annoyed.
"Just be grateful that I'm not wrapping you in bubble wrap."
"If anyone should be in bubble wrap, it's you, Tim. How many times have you almost been shot or blown up?"
"Enough times," he admitted.
"I spend most of my time in an office, so stop worrying."
"I'm your husband, it is my job to worry."
"Aw, hon, that's sweet, but I'm a little more capable than I look. Remember who took down Malik?"
"I did have a plan," he reminded her.
"And I had a knife, which proved to be the better plan."
"00110."
"I love you too."
"C'mon," he kissed the top of her head, "Let's go Mrs. McGee."