The violent inhale of breath actually woke her up seconds before the sobbing did. With a grunt she rolled off the bed (Over her bedmate, whose turn it was to wake up. Pure coincidence, of course.)
"Lungs on that thing," she muttered with the kind of darkness that only comes out in the wee hours of the morning.
"I'm sure you're not referring to our daughter that way," answered the lump on the bed, and even all these years later she had to struggle to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
Still, the grin she couldn't help as she looked down on him. He smiled back, the edges of his eyes wrinkling as he did. Mysteriously, Serra grew silent.
"Since you're up…" He allowed an exaggerated pause at the end of the sentence and she giggled and punched his shoulder. "Would you like breakfast?" He finished.
She nodded happily and offered him her hands. He seized the one that bore his wedding ring even at this hour and used it to haul himself out of the bed. Holding hands as though they were both teenagers, the made their way down to the kitchen, slowly. There was no hurry. After all, they had today, and then, the rest of their lives.
He slowly loaded logs into the fireplace and with a casual flick of his hand watched as they promptly went up in flames. With the same steady, deliberate movements that had suited him quite nicely for decades now Numair filled the kettle with clear water and placed it on a hook above the fireplace. He pulled up a chair and they sat, together and watched the fire burn.
Slowly the trickle of steam rising from the kettle became a torrent and he moved about the kitchen with grace that she still admired. They began to eat a porridge with nuts, milk, and sugar in it and a cup of hot tea. She made sure to eat slowly, savoring the taste of every bite as well as the warmth she could now feel in her stomach that slowly traveled throughout her entire body. Between the warmth within and around her and the gorgeous sunrise the mutely watched through the window, a satisfied "hm" was the only noise that escaped her lips.
They finished eating their meals in a peaceful and companionable silence as they had never been ones to waste air among those they respected. Daine made a move to help with the dishes, but he swatted her hands away from her dishes with one of his (though it pained his wife to admit it) grins that retained every iota of its charm.
She waited a while he set the dishes aside and walked back over to her, bending down, his lips far closer to her ears than would have been needed simply to be heard. "Happy birthday, magelet."
As he leaned back slightly she very deliberately turned her head to catch his lips with hers and felt his quiet smile turn into a Cheshire grin before his hands moved to lightly grasp her waist.
She stood up, easing her body to be completely pressed against his as the kiss grew deeper. He felt her hands wrapped around his waist in a tight grip.
Numair's hands moved under her shirt to feel the skin on her back, his fingers dancing lightly over the still-present scars.