June
…
On one morning in late spring, a couple brushes their teeth side by side.
"You wanna meet for lunch?" Jack says before spitting out into his sink.
Liz does the same, and thinks of a suggestion. "How about that popcorn place in midtown? I haven't been in ages."
His face twists while he rinses. "Lemon, really?"
She wipes her face with a soft 'Hers' towel, and turns off the tap.
"If you don't wanna go, whatever. I will experience the magic by myself."
"Don't be silly."
"Come on, I'm pregnant," she wheedles.
"Are you, now?"
"Very funny," she says, and turns to the mirror to pop in her contacts. Jack sets down his towel, and they exit the bathroom.
"Fine," he sighs.
"You'll come?"
"Yes. I'll go to your ridiculous popcorn eatery. If you can even call it that."
She, and him. The morning is so breathtakingly wonderful in its ordinariness.
Before they begin breakfast he grabs her by her waist, pulling her close. These days she feels heavier in his arms, and Jack enjoys it immensely.
"Good morning," he says lowly, pecking her lips.
"You hate mornings, Jack."
But her arms wrap themselves around his back, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. He smells like intimacy in the morning, still warm from sleep.
"Have I told you lately how wonderful you feel?" he murmurs, showering her neck with kisses.
He shifts his lips onto hers, savoring the taste of her. The kiss is slow, tentative; a nice part of their morning routine. He slips his fingers under her empire-waist blouse to feel the smooth alabaster skin at her hip.
But she pulls away when she spots the awesome-looking box of donuts on the table.
…
"Are you sure you don't want any help?" Liz asks warily from the door, her hands clasped under her tummy.
"Yes, Lemon, I'm doing just fine," Jack answers, refusing to tear his eyes away from his work. It shouldn't be this hard, really.
They'd decided to hire professionals to deal with the walls of the new nursery, but oddly, Jack wanted to deal with the furniture himself.
"You don't seem to be doing that fine." She arches her eyebrows. "You've been trying to assemble that crib for the past two hours and it looks like nothing's improved since the last time I came here to check."
Jack curses under his breath, inadvertently proving her point.
"Why aren't you looking at the manual?"
"It's a GE crib, Lemon. I practically wrote the manual. Although they seem to have made a few changes since…" he curses again.
She ignores him and steps into the room, appraising the walls. The nursery is almost all set, quite an accomplishment since they started it less than a month ago.
"It's beautiful, Jack."
It really is. The walls are a soft blue, with pale yellow stars painted on the ceiling. Two large windows offer a lovely view of the park, and soon, billowy white curtains will hang in them.
He pauses in his task, and looks up at her. The fading afternoon light casts shadows around the room, but Liz is truly glowing with her pregnancy.
"You're right, Lemon. It is."
…
The door to the apartment opens silently. Her heels click on the hardwood floor of the long hallway as she turns and quietly shuts the door, locking it carefully. She steps into the living room, tossing her thin jacket over the chair before turning to walk down the hall towards the bedroom.
She steps lightly through the door to the bedroom, stopping at the foot of the bed to remove her shoes, dress and jewelry. Slipping on only a thin silk robe, she climbs into bed and slides close to his sleeping form. He doesn't always stay up to watch the show (especially if he's had a long day). It is common for her to wake him in the wee hours of Sunday morning, though. Pregnancy will do that to a woman.
"Do you love me?" she asks.
He can only give her honesty. "Yes. How was the show?"
Lately, she's had no patience for hedging, and so cuts right to the chase. "Fine. Do you want to do stuff?"
"Depends what you had in mind." He is awake now, and his eyebrows slide up, interested. Always interested in whatever she has to offer.
"Um, the usual, I guess. If you're not too sleepy."
In response, his hand slides down her torso to her tummy. "How are you both feeling tonight? Good?"
She sighs. "I'm more tired than I used to be, but weirdly energized. I'm glad to be home."
He smiles and leans up to capture her lips in a soft kiss. "I'm glad you're home too, Lemon."
It is almost noon, when they stir again, the sun tickling their faces.
Her naked body is warm and pliant in his arms, and Jack watches her struggle with sleepiness for a few blissful minutes. He always appreciates a well-made-up woman, but first thing in the morning, so unguarded... this is how he likes her best. Her face with hints of last night's make-up; her dark hair tousled, her cheeks rosy from sleep. There is something so heart-crushingly innocent about a drowsy Liz, something he can't really explain.
The birds have long been singing their morning arias, and Jack moves his palm under her robe to touch bare belly. Suddenly, Liz is wide-awake, and she studies him studying her. He looks so devoted, so blissful, and she smiles invitingly.
Using his free hand, Jack loosens the tie of her robe, his hand roaming over silky white skin. He slowly traces her form, savoring the fullness of her breasts; the heaviness of her hips.
His mouth captures her rosy lips, and Liz is sure that she will never get enough of the sensation of his soft tongue in her mouth, of the responses her body makes in his arms. His hand slid down her sides, skimming her stomach before settling on her hip.
"I can feel the difference," he murmurs between kisses, and she chuckles.
"Are you implying that I'm fat?"
"Hmm. Let me feel again."
His fingers tickle over her soft skin, setting her ablaze, and desire pools deep inside of her. She has just had him last night, slowly and sensually, but Liz craves it again. Only a few months ago had her doctor warned about an increased sexual appetite, but no one in the Lemon-Donaghy household is complaining yet.
His hands on her become the center of the world, and he gently palms her swollen breasts, careful to avoid hurting the sensitive mounds.
Just when he lowers his head to suck one very sensitive peak, "Ride of the Valkyries" interrupts her sweet ache.
"Nooooo," she groans, and his head falls to her shoulder with a gasp.
"Agreed."
"I'm not answering it. It's Sunday."
He sighs. "Regardless, I believe this what one considers a "shattered mood."
"Blerg."
…
"So, I've been wondering about something…" Jenna begins, watching her best friend making herself a sandwich at crafts services.
"What's that?" Liz asks distractedly as she carefully layers some cheese.
"What do you call Jack?" Jenna asks, unable to hide a grin.
Liz gives her a patented 'Are you stupid?' look and asks, "Is that supposed to be a joke question?"
"No."
"I call Jack 'Jack,'" she says, biting into the sandwich.
"Not just when you're working or talking or whatever. I mean, when you're, you know, in the throws of passion."
"Ugh, Jenna. You know I don't discuss details."
"I'm not asking for measurements or a performance report. Although…" Liz gives her a pointed stare and Jenna raises her hands in concession.
"Come on Liz, just give me a little something to work with for my imagination."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you imagining what you want to imagine. And besides, why would I call Jack something other than Jack when we're in bed?"
"Well, he has another name for you. Do you ever call him 'Donaghy'?"
Liz makes a face. "No. That would like him calling me Elizabeth. It's just…wrong."
"What's wrong?" says the man in question, exiting the elevator.
"Jenna wants to know if I'm ever inclined to call you by your last name."
"Oh, God… please, don't start doing that," he responds, and she giggles at the nearly horrified look on his face.
"It's cute," Jenna says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "You don't call her 'Elizabeth', or even 'Liz', and she doesn't call you 'Donaghy'," she says, pointing at them respectively.
"I don't believe it was a decision of recent consequence, but your conclusion is correct," Jack says.
"So, in bed, you're just 'Jack and Lemon?'" Jenna states, and Jack's face twitches.
Liz sees the twitch too and rolls her eyes. "Come on…" Jenna prods.
"He may…" Liz starts with a huff. "From time to time, he calls me 'baby.'"
Jenna lets out a shocked squeak. "And you let him get away with that?"
"She's usually a little too busy thanking God to call me on it."
"JACK!" Liz shouts, smacking his shoulder. He winces at the tiny mustard stain that is left behind.
"Lemon, don't be a prude."
"Yes, because it's my being prudish that has gotten us so far," she says sarcastically, gently poking her abdomen. They continue to banter on their way to Liz's office, unaware of all that they've given Jenna to work with over the summer hiatus.
…