A/N: This one would take place when Mac is pregnant with Matthew.

Omelets – My Way

It's 4:00 in the morning and everyone in the house is asleep except Mac. She is absolutely starving, most likely because dinner didn't set on her stomach too well last night. She hadn't thrown up, but she had been extremely nauseous for most of the night, causing her to toss and turn quite a bit. She laughed at her husband, sleeping like a rock next to her. Normally when she is restless, he will wrap his arms around her and pull her closer, trying to soothe her. Tonight, however, he seems to be out for the count. Her nausea has now subsided, and her and the baby require some nourishment. She slides out of bed, and heads down to the kitchen.

Mac pries open the door for the refrigerator, glancing at the various shelves and not really finding much that calls out to her until she reaches the eggs. Those give her the perfect idea. She grabs a few more ingredients from various cupboards, puts everything together in the pan and sits down on a barstool waiting for everything to be ready.

She feels Harm come in before she sees him. She turns to find him with his navy-blue robe cinched around his waist with his hair sticking up in various directions. She chuckles, "Good morning, bed-head. What are you doing up so early?"

He yawns as he sits on the stool next to her, "You weren't in bed with me, so I came looking for you. I wanted to check on you and make sure that you were okay. I know you weren't feeling very well last night." He runs a hand over her slightly rounded belly, "Is junior here acting up again?"

Mac shrugs her shoulders, "I don't think so. Just don't think he was really agreeable to the burger I fed him last night." Cheekily she adds, "He definitely must be your son."

Harm rolls his eyes. Ever since they found out they were having a son, each time "he" upset her stomach for eating meat, it was Harm's fault. "I take it you are feeling better since you are down here?"

Mac nods, "Yeah, I'm famished so I decided to make an omelet."

Harm squints his eyes at her, "There's no pan on the stove. Did you already eat, or have you just not made it yet?"

Mac grins conspiratorially, "Neither. It's in the oven."

Harm tries to clear the cobwebs from his brain. It's way too early for her teasing. He states, "You don't make omelets in the oven, Mac, you make them in a pan on top of the stove."

The timer dings signaling completion. She hops off the stool and grabs the lobster oven mitts, "Nope, this kind go in the oven. The recipe said so."

Harm is thoroughly confused, "Since when do you follow a recipe? You've seen me make omelets enough times to be able to do it in your sleep."

Mac smiles, "Yes, but those are omelets your way, these are omelets my way." She pulls the pan out of the stove, turns the oven off, and sets the pan on a pot holder to cool, setting her internal clock for five minutes before she can partake of her delicacy.

Harm takes a whiff, and without even seeing the contents of the pan he accuses, "You didn't make an omelet, you made brownies!"

Mac gives him a quick kiss and sits back on the stool next to him. She challenges, "I completely disagree, counselor. I seasoned the eggs with sugar, oil, and chocolate, and decided to throw in a little flour for texture. When you make them, you season the eggs with various spices and throw in vegetables or meat for texture. How is that different?"

Harm thinks about her argument, and realizes he can't really fault her logic, especially when his brain isn't firing on all cylinders. He mumbles, "I guess it's not."

Mac's internal buzzer signals that it is time to cut herself a slice of chocolate heaven. She grins over her shoulder, "I rest my case."

Harm smiles, "Are you going to share your omelet with me?"

Mac brings the pan back over and sets it on her side of the counter, just outside of his reach. She leans in towards him, and brings a piece up between their lips and says, "I'm sure you can find a way to persuade me."