Requested by Ashley1985: I would love to read a fluffy fun one about Liz's pregnancy cravings. Maybe she wakes Tom up at all hours to get her some food.

Cravings

She had been tossing and turning all night. The movement itself hadn't been enough to fully cut through the haze of pain medication that the hospital had sent him home with, but Tom jolted awake as Liz accidentally knocked his still-healing leg while turning over in the bed next to him.

"Sorry," she grumbled as he sucked in a pain-filled breath and she scooted further away.

Tom lay there for a long moment, wide awake and letting the pain pass, and he heard her shift again. "Hey?" he called softly in the dark bedroom and heard her grunt in response. "You okay?"

"Baby's kicking."

A soft breath escaped him and, despite the pain that had jerked him awake, Tom felt a smile tug his lips. The baby. Their baby. It was hard to be put out when he remembered that in just a few months he was going to get to meet his child.

With that thought he leaned over carefully and press kiss to her cheek. "You need anything?"

He received a barely intelligible no in response and started the process of untangling himself from the sheets and getting out of bed. He grimaced as he put too much weight on his left arm, straining the stitches holding the second hole that Gina's people had put into him closed.

"Where're you going?" Liz's sleepy question came once he had his legs over his side of the bed.

"Just need to get up and move. Maybe breakfast," he answered. He started to stand and reached instantly for the cane he had been trying to wean himself off of the last few days. Today would not be the one.

Liz didn't answer, but snuggled down a little deeper under the blankets. Tom stopped his slow limp towards the bedroom door and looked back, struck not for the first time how lucky he was. Lucky to have met her at all and lucky that she had been willing to give him a second chance and then some. He would do better. He would be better. She and their baby deserved everything he had to give them, and he couldn't do that by getting himself killed. He'd find another way to get them out from under Reddington. He just needed time.

The apartment was quiet and dark, the sun not over the horizon outside yet. Tom moved slowly, nearly tripping over Hudson that was sprawled right in his path. The dog looked up irritably. Between them both, he had been a little displaced too.

Tom made his way over to the kitchen, checking the cupboards and fridge, hoping beyond hope that they had more than those frozen waffles Liz liked to keep. There wasn't much. Some eggs just shy of their expiration date, a third of a loaf of bread, and a few other odds and ends that wouldn't make a great breakfast. He was in the process of throwing the bacon out that just didn't smell right when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find Liz standing on the other side of the counter, sweater pulled tight around her shoulders, and she looked exhausted.

Tom tried for a smile. "Change your mind about breakfast?" She nodded and his smile grew a little more real. "Any idea what you're up for?"

There was something off in her expression, almost sour, and for a moment Tom was worried he'd done something wrong. "What?" he ventured carefully.

"You can't make fun of me," she groused and Tom felt at least some of the worry ease.

"Okay," he promised softly.

That didn't convince her. Instead Liz took a seat and watched him for a moment. He leaned against the counter to take some of the weight off his bad leg and wait, not wanting to harass her into answering before she was ready. The moodswings were mostly under control, but they were up at this terrible hour and neither of them felt great. No reason to push their luck.

Liz pursed her lips together and finally looked up, meeting his eyes briefly before looking back down at her hands and mumbling something so softly he couldn't quite make it out.

"What's that?" he asked, straightening to limp over to the counter so he could hear her better.

"Do you have what you need to make pancakes?" she asked a little louder.

Tom blinked, surprised. "Ahhh…. You sure?"

Her gaze snapped to meet his, frustration flashing through it. "I told you you couldn't make fun of me for it."

"Woh," he chuckled, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. "I just want to make sure that what you really want. I'd like to keep my bones intact."

"You're not funny."

"Only because it's four-thirty in the morning," he teased softly and reached across, his fingers hesitantly ghosting over her knuckles, but she instantly turned her hand over to take his. He smiled, stroking the underside of her wrist with his thumb and he felt her fingers close around his.

"Maybe," she huffed, her own lips twitching up just a little. "I do really hate them."

"Then why…?"

"Apparently our kid takes after you in that department."

Tom's smile only grew at that. Liz's cravings hadn't been too strange yet, and even when they were he was just now getting to the point that he could really be on his feet in the kitchen for any length of time. They'd ordered in a lot, and by ordered in that really meant that Baz had brought them take out. He wondered if this was the first time that their little one had demanded pancakes for breakfast or if Liz had just been fighting him or her and finally had lost that battle. Either way, it left him grinning like an idiot and Liz rolled her eyes at him.

"Do we need to wake Baz up to go get stuff or are we good?"

Tom huffed a laugh at that one. "No, we've got it. We're good. And he's probably up anyway. Not sure that guy actually sleeps."

"Pretty sure he doesn't. I mean, how else would he be able to report my every move back to Reddington?" Liz grumbled.

"Not Baz's fault. He's just trying to protect you," Tom tried as he moved back to gather his supplies. Eggs, bisquick… He pulled the milk out from the fridge and made a face at the smell. Nope. He limped towards a far cabinet.

"Did you ever do that?"

"Do what?" he asked as he opened the cabinet to search through their canned goods. No. No. Not even close. There it was. He pulled out a can of evaporated milk, checked the date, and counted it as a win. This would actually work better anyway. A little sweeter, a little fluffier. It really was a shame Liz didn't like pancakes, but their son or daughter did, apparently. It was a silly thing he could share with them. He hoped there would be a lot of things they could share once he got to meet them.

"Sit up at all hours watching surveillance to keep me safe?"

That felt like a loaded question, and Tom let his response rattle around his mind a moment or two longer than normal as he put the ingredients together in a large bowl and reached for a wooden spoon to mix them together.

"Tom?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he answered hesitantly. "Early on, before we actually met."

"You watched me?"

"I swear it's not as creepy as you just made it sound."

Thankfully, that pulled a laugh from her and Tom felt a little of the tension ease from his chest. "How close?"

It took his sleep-deprived mind a moment to make sense of the question as he stirred the ingredients in the bowl together so that they formed up batter. "I mean, it wasn't like I had a camera in your place or anything. Mostly it was just keeping vague tabs to make sure no one was targeting you. Reddington wasn't exactly… clear on what the threat was, just that there could be one and I needed to be ready." He leaned down carefully, grabbing the large skillet and putting it on the burner.

"Is that why you showed up that day at the coffee shop?" Liz asked, amusement lining her voice. "You'd already fallen for me?"

Tom poured the batter into the pan and flipped the burner on underneath. "I went because Elly pushed for it and it was starting to look weird that I wouldn't go." He turned back to look at her. "You were just a woman that I'd been hired to protect. You became Liz at the coffee shop and I guess… I don't know, I just got in further and further the more time we spent together."

She was watching him and he ducked his head, suddenly feeling very exposed in their dimly lit kitchen as his pregnant ex-wife sat watching him. "Was it really the shoes?"

"Was what really the shoes?"

"You told me that you knew you had me, but I've wondered for a long time..."

A smile perked his lips and he reached out. "Come here?"

Liz slipped off her stool and made her way over. He took her hands in his and leaned in. She met him in the kiss and he reached to touche the side of her face, his fingers buried in her dark hair even after they broke from it. "You had me too," he said a little breathlessly. "Before then, after then. Now and for as long as you'll have me. I love you, Liz."

She smiled for him, and he might have lost himself to it if she hadn't nodded behind him. "You're going to burn our breakfast."

"Right," he huffed and turned, wincing as his leg twinged at the movement, and he flipped both pancakes over.

He felt Liz's hands against his back, moving up to settle on his shoulders, and she leaned in to press a kiss between his shoulder blades. "I love you too," she murmured softly.

"Even when I tease you for craving pancakes?" Tom asked with a wink in her direction and she shot him a playful warning look.

"Watch it. I might forget and hit you right in the arm."

He scooped the pancakes off the skillet and onto two plates, handing her one. "Already hit me in the leg. That's why we're both up before five."

She rolled her eyes and started for the table. He watched her, a fond smile touching his lips before he limped his way over to join her, leaning heavily on the cane. She had already started in, looking strangely satisfied with each bite she took.

"Any better than you remembered?"

"Well, they're not gluten free. That's a plus," she teased him and caught his eyes as she took another bite.

Tom grinned, starting in on his own breakfast. He had expected to eat alone and possibly catch a few minutes more sleep on the couch after, but instead he had the chance to share breakfast with the woman he loved and, in a way, with their unborn child. With each step he found himself in places he hadn't dared hope for, and some that he wouldn't have even known he could hope for. A life, a family, and a future. They could do this, no matter what they came up against.

"So how far can I push this?" Liz asked lightly, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I mean, it hasn't happened yet, but I hear cravings can get pretty weird. What if I asked you to make something just totally disgusting like… I don't know. Peanut butter and mushrooms?"

Tom wasn't sure what his face did at that one, but it pulled a laugh out of Liz. He swallowed his bite of pancake. "If that's what you really want, I'll figure out a way to make it…. Yeah, nevermind. No way to make that not disgusting."

"True," she said with a smile and reached over, her hand brushing his. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Taking care of me when I should be taking care of you."

He pulled her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "We'll take care of each other," he promised softly and found her softened gaze lingering on him.

She squeezed his hand. "I don't have to be in the office until later this morning. If I promise not to kick you, you want to see if we can get another couple hours' sleep?"

"Yeah, just let me get this -"

"I got it. Taking care of each other, remember?" She stood, but paused before reaching for the plates. Instead she leaned down, her lips pressed against his. Tom felt himself melt into it and her hand snaked around to the back of his neck as if she had to hold him in place. As they parted, he tried to follow her, not quite ready to let the moment end. She didn't move far, though, and he found her palm against his scruffy cheek. There was something in the way she was watching him, like she was struggling with whatever was playing across her mind, but instead she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you," she said softly, the words riding out on a breath like a confession.

Tom turned into her hand, kissing her palm, and he stood carefully without letting go. "Forget the plates."

The woman he loved made a soft, amused sound, but she didn't argue as he led her back to the bedroom to find what he hoped were a couple hours of peace with each other before she had to go into work.

Notes: Agnes would totally demand pancakes, just saying :P

I feel like I struggled with the end to this, but you can't go wrong with giving these two a little bit of snuggly peace.