Title: White Roses.
Summary: Being pregnant, rather than making her look like a mountain that waddles, instead makes her look even more beautiful. In a way. TWxPG one-shot, hints of the comic, but all animated in version.
Warnings: Mentions of abortion, Ultra Boy being a jerk, wedlock motherhood, they're all adults under thirty.
Disclaimer: Yeah, sure, like I own anything. Keep dreaming, though.

This is what I get for watching the first episode of Cowboy Bebop and reading a book on quotations of other books at the same time. I get rather contemplative when I try and make a fic for a certain category, and it was a LOSH lucky evening.

-:-
The first symptom of true love in a young man is timidity; in a young woman, it is boldness.
-Les Miserables.

The sun is up finally and Brin has an actual reason to get up from his bed and head over to Tinya's. He probably shouldn't, if one of the other Legionnaires decide to pop by the woman's house later, the gossip chain won't break, it will only weld more rumors around Tinya and she doesn't need that, not now, but…

Growling under his breath about office politics and Brainy and Ultra Boy being a prick like he has since seven months ago, Brin shuffled out of his bed (a big king size that takes up half the space in his small apartment bedroom, but is so clean and good that he doesn't mind having his desk for data-work sit outside the door) with nothing but a pair of sweatpants and started going through his closet for a clean shirt.

Seven months ago, after finally—finally and completely, if only—breaking up with Jo for being a chauvinistic, womanizing, cheating scum bag, he'd been in fairly high spirits. He had been ready and willing to ask Phantom Girl to accompany him and Cham on a trip to Winath to help Lightning Blitz with some crop maneuvers he was having trouble with along with Ayla. It had been a morning not unlike this one, with the sun crowning the sky in lovely gold and pink and birds flitting about outside the tower of the Legion when he had walked into her room and found her crying with a data pad in her lap and her tears sliding through her fingers.

The pad had almost been tossed at his head when he'd entered, with her head flipping up to reveal very red eyes and the angriest face he'd ever seen her give—teeth showing as she had opened her mouth to no doubt cuss out Brainy, who'd she thought was coming to see her at the time—anyone, before she'd actually seen him (worried) and had dropped it.

Finding a clean white shirt that a person from the 21st Century would have called a "wife beater" and put it on, the tightness of the fabric showing off all the muscles in his back he'd spent years conditioning and toning. If one looked closely, they could count all of the bumps of his rigid spine that often raised up when he had to bring up his more feral figure.

On that day, when she'd spoken through gasps and sobs that he could just barely make out when she'd tossed herself at him like he was a pillar of strength, he'd never wanted to kill anyone so badly in his life (that included his father).

Shortly before Tinya and Jo had broken up—or before she dumped him—they had had one of their more volatile sessions of angry sex and Tinya had gotten pregnant. When she had to find out for sure from Brainy (she'd had to go to him of course, seeing as normal pregnancy tests never worked for her) just the day before, she went straight to Jo. Ultra Boy had told her to get an abortion. Not asked her, told her. He hadn't been there the day before because he was in Metropolis with Kell-El on a mission. She had been reviewing her options and none of them looked very good since she had consulted with Brainy (not really a good option, but the best she'd had at the time with everyone else gone on a mission somewhere else) and all he said was that it was her decision. If she were to keep the child, she would have to take time off from the Legion during the gestation and some six months after just to be safe. If she were to get rid of it, she would need to have an emergency contact to keep an eye on her for a month or so.

Brin, of course, had walked in on her just after she's made the decision to keep the baby and the reality of the situation—her anger at Brainy for not being more human (no pun intended) when he had discussed it with her; her rage at Jo Nah for not caring and being so cavalier about it; her fear at everyone, especially her mother, finding out—had sunk into her like a hunting knife into a dead pig. It was heartbreaking.

Since then, he had been helping her out to the best of his abilities. Helped her get a small house on Earth—not in Metropolis, she wouldn't stay there for risk of getting constant visits from her mother or the wretched press—in a little city just outside where Clark had said Kansas used to be, helped her get a job—she was actually really good at what she did; being a florist of rare plants to give to various people who ordered, and she could work out of her house if she had to—and he, himself had taken leave from Legion duties to stay close to her during the pregnancy; he now worked at a bakery three blocks from his apartment and was loving the flow of it all. Superman was right when he'd said small towns were nice.

Today was exactly, to the day, the mark of her seventh month being pregnant and he wanted her to wake up to a good breakfast. Or, at the least the smell of it, seeing as she still was unfortunate in having to wake up to throw up first. Gotta hate that morning sickness.

Grabbing his keys and slipping on a pair of flip-flops Tinya had given him before she'd gotten pregnant that he'd found to be a very nice change from the spandex that had always covered his feet, Brin locked his door and headed out down the lane for where her house was. A mile and a half into a small wood, with trees all tall as some buildings in Metropolis that smelled of lilac and often dropped little cotton clumps down on the unsuspecting. The birds that lived in the trees had a habit of swooping down to steal locks of his hair when they could.

There is a battle for either the feeling of utter peace in staying within the way and land of sleep or suppression of the sun chasing those feelings away taking place along the features of Tinya's face.

She knows it is happening, even as she tries to squash it out and keep her features weightless and lax and—why do those sprocking birds have to be so damn loud in the morning?

The façade and hope for staying in the unworried and so much more preferable realm of the little slices of death faded away and Tinya poked her head out from the little nest of her covers, little bits of her hair standing up in weird directions and she slid out into the morning air. It was getting harder and harder for her to sleep at all these days, which was why she looked like such a wreck every single morning. Before she got pregnant, she needed six hours maximum and she had a well rested, fruitful day. Now? Now she would be lucky to finally pass out around four in the morning and then wake up three hours later; the baby kept her awake with its kicking and heartburn that Brainy said was impossible but she still retained the thought that he wasn't pregnant, so how would he know anything at all about the little thing wreaking havoc on her systems?

Swinging her legs out of the rest of the covers, her bare feet—with the nails painted the prettiest shade of blue, compliments of Shrinking Violet when she'd visited the week before to give her gossip as well as a small check-up—feeling of pins and needles, Tinya ignored making the bed in favor of raising her head and wandering out of the bedroom towards the smell of pancakes and bacon.

She looked like a perfect young woman in her white satin nightgown that skimmed the floor and made her look a little more desirable, even with the medium sized bump of her stomach the she rested her hands atop like a Buddha on her small pilgrimage to the kitchen. Given the months, she was a little worried that the baby was underdeveloped, but Brainy promised her, she was fine. She would take his advice since Brin had threatened to hunt down the human Coluan if he was wrong and knew that the caring werewolf looking man would definitely follow through.

Wandering into the room and stopping just at the table with the plates for two already put down along with the silverware, Tinya just sort of gazed quietly as Timber Wolf made breakfast with his back to her.

He had bought a bouquet and quiet, gentle white roses and already put them in water in a see-through glass vase with tiny little seagulls printed along the neck. They made the room smell almost as good as the bacon that was cooking, grease once and while—though a little too often for her own comfort—spitting up into the air and landing on his hands or cheeks; an act that would be quite painful to people who weren't protected by a thin layer of fur.

The pancakes were in the pan and she couldn't begin to count all of the bubbles building up from the batter before popping and alerting him that it was time to flip them, spatula grazing the pan with ease that only came from practice before going up and then slapping the slip of golden brown back onto the pan to continue until ready.

If she had asked him out like she would have liked to before she had found out she was pregnant, she would have laughed if someone told her that they would practically be living together; him the perfect little house husband and her the irritable workaholic with insomniac problems. It would have been humorous—it was humorous now—but she never would have believed it. It's still nice to know that this was a way of living she would like to continue with him, but would be so much better if she would just step up and ask him out. But, she didn't want to ruin what they had here—maybe after the baby was born and she could blame it on the post-partum hormones…

He's here now, though, nobody else is, and that's what counts.

"Do you have to buy me flowers every time you come over here?"

Her voice is sudden and out of the blue and she has this slight and fleeting moment of glee that, seven months ago, she would have held onto longer for catching him off guard and by surprise. He jumps a little and turns his head with his hands gripping the counter and nearly grazing the stove in a fashion that if he hadn't pulled away just as quickly could have very well burnt his finger pads and made him miserable, rather than happy to see her.

He grins like he always seems to when he's only around her (though, she hasn't noticed this and for that he is grateful) and flips both the pancake and the now done bacon onto separate plates, answering without really looking at her, "Yes, I think so. The ones I buy on previous visits are always dead. What would you have to make your house more presentable if I didn't bring them? You know, you make these things up and pretty for a living, I can't understand why you can't keep them alive longer."

She huffs, keeping one hand on her stomach as she pulls out a chair at the table and just watches him—very much as schoolgirl with a crush on the captain of the Varsity football team—in that skin tight shirt and those pants that don't leave much to the imagination.

"I sell the things, I don't keep them. In fact, I'm pretty sure the baby sucks the life out of them during the night when he keeps me awake, jumping up and down on my bladder. The little brat."

Finished with the cooking and bringing the food out on their giant plates that reminded her of the silver platters at embassy balls Tinya had so often attended with her mother, Brin set the bacon and the pancakes on the table right next to the syrup he had left by the flowers exactly within Tinya's reach—far be it for him to irk her feminist attitude, but he'd rather her think him sexist while she was swimming in her own hormones than send her off on a kick about being the size of a planet when she can't reach one little thing—and gave her a mock frown. He brought on hand to her stomach and rubbed without permission, cooing a little.

"Don't talk like that about the unborn. What if he remembers you saying that like he's supposed to remember all that music you play and brings it up against you?"

Tinya rolled her eyes as she chewed on a whole bacon slice and her pinky finger touched his own as he continued to rub her bump; the baby always kicked so hard when Brin touch her, like the hammering in her chest manifesting in the baby, "Yeah, like that'll happen. Brainy isn't his dad, he won't be able to talk back to me at a month and a half or however soon Coluans start acting like pompous jerks."

Timber Wolf growled humorously under his breath, but dropped the subject, starting in on his own part of the breakfast (just two of the five pancakes he'd made and one-third of the bacon, least he lose a hand) as Tinya did her best to stay polite, but ended up swallowing most of it like a black hole.

It was quiet between them for a few minutes that were not unpleasant like back at the Legion, but Tinya ended up speaking first, "Oh, I forgot, um, you wouldn't mind helping me do my laundry today, would you?"

"Mind? Why would I mind?"

She shrugged almost guiltily, "You'd have to show me how to do it and do the heavy lifting. I mean, I can do the whole hanging them out to dry in the yard thing, but the rest—"

Without preamble and with all the warmth of a newborn sun, Brin lifted from the table to put the dishes in the sink, but paused over her like a beast to her beauty and leaned over to give her a peck on the top of her head. The affect left her cheeks hot and a little bit of a buzzing in her ears like shock and giddiness.

"Hah, as you wish, Princess…"

The nickname that he had used on her for as long as they had known each other died on his lips quite suddenly as he found she had followed him—quite silent and quick for a pregnant woman—to the sink and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck once he turned to find her standing there, and gave him a peck just on the tip of his nose.

It was gratitude, not romantic. It was teasing, not flirting. She could wait until the baby was born.

"Thanks, Puppy," she giggled, walking back through the house to the living room where she had left her basket of dirty maternity clothes sitting on the coach with the large window that over looked her yard that they would end up being in the rest of that afternoon; the White Poppy and Maiden roses he'd helped her plant were in full bloom under the tree in her yard whose names she couldn't pronounce unless she read it from a book, but all had an orange, brown, grey and white coloring that made her feel so very comfortable while outside.

Brin stood speechless a moment, but he followed after her, intent on paying her back in kind and perhaps very much more as soon as possible.

Or, as soon as the baby was born.