Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, I know they discuss Avengers, which came out in May 2012. Pretend it doesn't come out until August, yeah? Okay.
August
…
Liz finds it irritating how her belly has turned into a piece of public interest. It's fine when it's Jack or Jenna or whatever, but it's rather disturbing when the lady at Crumbs leans over the counter with an outstretched hand before a stern look from Liz is able to stop her last-minute.
Liz doesn't like that at all. But she still goes anyways because the cupcakes are so freaking good. She can even finish a Colossal Cupcake all by herself if she's in the mood.
She usually is.
But she still finds the physical attention annoying. On the other hand, what she does like is Jack's head resting near her tummy, telling his daughter about his day. The baby reacts to his voice, and very often a tiny movement inside of her follows his tales. Butterflies, a wave, wind, bubbles – she comes up with a lot of words to describe the fluttering sensation inside of her. She really can't get used to it, and probably won't.
Another beautiful thing, one she can't think about without warmth spreading out inside of her, is their lovemaking. Jack certainly has no problem with touching his pregnant woman in a sexual way, but, nonetheless, it's gotten different. Over the last few weeks it's changed simultaneously with her body. Since he can't lift her anymore, pinning her against a wall while pumping into her in a rhythm that leaves her without any coherent thought, they've settled on more conventional places and positions.
He makes her feel pretty as well. Liz has always been slender, and even though she's a well-educated woman who's always had a "decent set", she sometimes can't help but being a little insecure about her new curves. But Jack always knows what to say.
(Or, at least he thinks he does. Usually his words turn into those of seduction; however, she's usually okay with what comes next.)
…
In mid-August, the city maintains a quiet stillness. At least in their neighborhood, most have (smartly) fled to Nantucket or the Hamptons. For whatever reason, Liz and Jack have stayed in New York aside from the occasional weekend spent upstate. There's a certain sense of special privacy that they have, as if they're the only two people left on this side of Central Park.
It's early evening. Not too hot, maybe low seventies. They're going to go out on the bedroom balcony with drinks. Scotch for Jack, iced tea for Liz. He watches as she cracks a window, giggling when the long curtains tickle her face, and grabs a throw blanket from the chair to bring outside. Jack holds the French doors open for her while balancing the drinks in his other hand. She settles into one of the chaises, and makes some complaint about how you can never see the stars in New York ("Feel free to move to a flyover state, Lemon,").
Still standing, Jack takes her all in as he hands her the glass. She's wearing comfortable pajama shorts and a tank top that pulls tight across her belly; he can see the protrusion quite clearly. Six months pregnant, Liz looks like every incarnation of beauty. Her hair seems shinier, her face fuller; even her eyes are browner somehow. She glows, and not just from the moonlight above.
He can't help but smile at her. "You're beautiful, you know that?"
Liz laughs at this and as a result chokes on her drink. Very attractive, indeed.
When she's done coughing, she counters, "Um. Not really. I think it's more of a me-getting-fat situation." She sets her tea on the small table, and self-consciously tugs the blanket over her stomach.
He takes his own seat next to her.
"Fat, Lemon?" he murmurs, shaking his head.
He reaches out to move the blanket away and places a sure hand on her tummy. "Not here. Definitely not here where our baby lives. Don't you feel that? It's hard and tight. That's not fat."
He skims one hand up between her breasts to brush against the sensitive inner swell of her cleavage, enjoying the shiver that his touch earns.
"And certainly not here where your body is preparing to nourish our daughter."
His hands run down along her ribs to her hips, which he grasps lightly while leaning down to press his lips to her neck.
"You're not fat here where your hips have spread to accommodate the birth of our baby," he rasps. His words sound a little weird to her, but it doesn't matter, because anything he says in that voice sounds so damn sexy. He's placing kisses along that spot by her ear that drives her nuts, which he knows.
He slides his hands up her torso and down again to rest gently on the outsides of her thighs. She whimpers a little and he smiles when his face is an inch from hers. With his next words, Jack's voice drops to a husky cadence. "You're absolutely not fat, Lemon."
Without warning, he pulls away entirely, and casually sips from his tumbler. What a jerk.
"Um, Jack?" she asks shakily.
"Yes, Lemon," he responds lowly, smirking a little.
"If you wanna kiss for a bit, I'm cool with it."
"Are you done stargazing, then?"
"Shut up."
…
Liz leans on one hand and taps her fingers on the white tablecloth. She's inside the Rock Center café, and while she has a nice view of the concourse from her spot, she'd rather see Jack as part of that view. He's fifteen minutes late and she really wishes he'd hurry up because she is starving. Liz drains her third strawberry lemonade (which is not helping her bladder), checks her phone again and sighs, pulling a random thread from her light cardigan.
At least the place has air conditioning.
She's about to try Jack's number again, but lowers her phone when she spots a familiar guy at the hostess' area. He catches her staring, and when she makes eye contact, his expression shifts into one of utter surprise.
"Liz?"
He makes a beeline towards her table, and she closes her mouth, hoping she doesn't look too much like a gaping fish. She's never been good at making impressions, though (be it first, second, or hundredth). As for him, she doesn't get why he looks so flabbergasted. She does work around here, and he has no idea that she's on maternity leave.
"Floyd. What are you doing here?"
He runs a hand through his dark hair and smiles awkwardly. "I, ah, I was going to call you, but it's just been so hectic, with the move and all…"
Liz shifts in her seat—she's rarely comfortable anymore—and doesn't miss when his eyes flicker towards her chest. "What? You're moving?"
"Yeah, um, Cleveland was nice, but I realized that I was leaving behind something more important. I'm starting in the legal department at Hearst next week." He smiles suddenly, like he's just found something he's been waiting for. "It's so nice to see you, Liz."
"Wow, um, you too. How is Kaitlin adjusting?"
His handsome face falls and she sees the weariness in his features. "We…divorced. Not over this. Last year. It wasn't working out."
"Oh my god…Floyd, I'm so sorry. She seemed really nice."
He shrugs, and she figures that he doesn't want to get into it.
"It seems like ages since we last talked, Liz. I'm sorry, for not keeping in touch better. You look amazing!"
She gives him a weird look, because her hair is piled on top of her head in an absolute mess (which is pointless because her neck still feels sweaty), and she skipped makeup today. "Ha, ha…thanks. Um, you too."
"You must hate me for dropping of the face of the earth," he says apologetically.
"Don't worry. I've been pretty busy too, so I don't blame you."
(He doesn't know the half of it.)
She nods at the empty chair across from her, and he sits.
"So you're back in New York. The big ci-tay," Liz says, and promptly frowns. Clearly she's forgotten how to talk to normal people. She continues to lean on the table; not really hiding herself behind the tablecloth, except that yeah, she is. Slurping her straw, she thinks of how to tell him—Floyd, whom she hasn't heard from in over two years, not that she's attempted to call him either—that she's married and expecting. How does one announce that without sounding like a bad reality TV show?
"Yeah. Look, Liz, I know it's kind of arrogant of me to ask this, but I was wondering if you were seeing any—?
He's cut off by the arrival of Jack. "The Floydster? Is that you?"
"Hey, Jack, how are ya?" Floyd stands to bro-hug him, and Liz pushes herself to her feet for her own greeting without thinking.
"Sorry I'm late," Jack says to Liz, and kisses her firmly.
"S'okay."
Meanwhile, Floyd's jaw is on the floor. The hiding-behind-the-table method seems to have worked, because he obviously didn't notice her pregnancy. She'd been about to tell him anyways. Probably.
"Wow," he sputters when the couple pulls apart. "You're, uh, wow."
"Married," Jack offers with the smirk of the alpha male that has won.
"Pregnant," Liz says at the same time. Floyd nods, mouth still a little open.
"Wow," he says again, unable to draw his eyes from her body.
"I know, I'm huge." Liz looks down at her stomach and sighs. "I'm not having not twins, I swear."
Jack rolls his eyes while Floyd laughs nervously. "So, uh, when did…?"
Liz isn't sure she wants to discuss this. Floyd's missed a lot, and she didn't invite him to the wedding for a reason. But she figures she owes him one, so she smiles kindly.
"Um, well, we got married in May," she says, smiling at Jack when he slides an arm around her waist. "We've been together for longer, though."
"Well, congratulations," Floyd says. His face changes and he seems to understand something. Maybe he's thinking of Jack's weird/possessive behavior that went on while he and Liz were dating.
She decides to hug him, partly out of pity. She's had her own share of rejection and it can't hurt to show some care. "Nice to see you, Floyd. Take care."
"Yeah. Same to you guys. And good luck." He doesn't respond to the hug much, which is fine with her.
He leaves the dining area to pick up his take-out, and Jack takes his seat. Liz flags down the waiter to order drinks; they fall into easy conversation, and for whatever reason, neither of them discusses Floyd.
He's a good guy, and she's always liked him. But it was never love, and besides, he missed his chance. That's all.
…
It's a lazy evening, too hot to really do anything, so they're just in bed watching late-night talk shows.
"Is it sad that I get most of my news from Fallon's monologues?"
"Yes, Lemon, it is."
"Ah, well," she mumbles indifferently. She has other stuff to worry about, like how nice it feels to get a head massage. She's lying in his lap while Jack gently rubs her headache away, occasionally muttering comments about her hair's slight dampness. It's not her fault. The humidity kind of plasters it to her head in places.
She sighs contentedly when the last hints of achiness leave, and he moves his hands from her hair to slowly trace her features, distractedly outlining her cheekbones and chin while he watches the TV. She stiffens when his fingers reach her thin scar, lingering for a moment, and he notices.
"You've never asked me about it," she says softly.
"I haven't," Jack agrees, drawing his eyes away from the TV to meet hers. It is surprisingly easy for him to be patient. He has wondered about the scar off and on over the years, but has never mentioned it, nor has she brought it up. He senses that the story is not a pleasant one, but is confident that she will tell him when she is ready.
Liz is silent for a minute and doesn't meet his gaze. "Do you think it's ugly?"
He traces it one more and ends by touching her lips briefly. "No. It is only a piece of you, and I love you as a whole, not in parts."
"I can't tell if that's a nice thing to say."
"I meant it as such. I apologize if it sounded otherwise."
"It's okay. I think…I know what you mean. Thank you." Her blinks become slower; the last one ends in closed eyes.
"You're welcome."
She yawns sleepily, and he barely catches her next words. "I'll tell you about it someday, Jack."
"Shh. Sleep, Lemon."
"LoveyouJack…" she sighs.
"Mmhmm."
Her breathing deepens, and he carefully removes her glasses to place them on the bedside table when he is sure she's asleep.
…
"It's Sunday, Lemon. What do you want to do today?"
"I dunno, want to see Avengers?"
"Again? You've seen it twice."
"What can I say, Jack? I like the booty."
"You know, the movie does have an actual plot, albeit a mediocre one."
"I'm horny 'cuz I'm pregnant, and therefore off the hook."
"I see."
"And the plot is not bad! There's a lot of complexity with the characters. It's really sad that Banner outcasts himself because he can't control his power, and if he would just let Tony Stark help him, then maybe he would have a chance of living in a normal society where he occasionally fights crime and meets for drinks with Tony to discuss new technological developments and other science-y stuff—"
"—I only saw it once, Lemon, but I can tell that your obsession with the Banner/Stark relationship is bordering on unhealthy."
"Jack, those two deserve to be successful and happy science bros."
"Science bros?"
"Yeah. I saw something about it on an Avengers Tumblr."
"Good god, when did you become a socially inept college student? Tumblr, Lemon, really?"
"I have a lot of free time ever since we finished the nursery! And I can't even go shopping, really, because...well. Have you looked in a closet lately?"
"Yes, I see your point. I found myself buried under a diaper mountain when I went to retrieve a tie today."
"Sorry about that. I just want to be ready, you know?"
"You're certainly prepared, Lemon. You're going to do fine—we both are. Together."
"Okay. You know what? Let's go out; I want to get a Captain America T-shirt for the baby."
"Forget it."
…
Liz sinks her hands into the hot water, feeling a wave of warmth overtake her as her hands tingle in the near-simmering heat.
"You know, you don't have to do dishes," Jack says.
"But I made them dirty," she argues, picking up the sponge off the edge of the sink and soaking it. She could use the dishwasher, of course, but she feels like doing some hard labor. She's been sitting around a lot lately and is pretty tired of it.
"Yes, by cooking me dinner. You cooked, I should clean," he points out. She shakes her head.
"We both know that you'd just leave them until Rosa comes tomorrow. I doubt you even remember how to clean a dish."
"This coming from the woman who never unloads the dishwasher; simply taking out forks as needed."
"Are you going to keep arguing with me or are you going to dry dishes?"
He shakes his head with amusement. "So now I'm allowed to participate?"
She rolls her eyes, thrusts the towel at him, and turns back to the sink.
They settle into a comfortable lull as they work in tandem, washing and drying and setting each dish gently on the drying rack. They fit together like two parts of a well-tuned machine, cleaning without the need for aimless chatter and working around each other's elbows easily.
After a few minutes, when he isn't looking, she sneaks the tips of her fingers into the sink and withdraws them, flicking them towards him and sending a shower of droplets at his face. He looks momentarily stunned before a suspicious look flashes across his face.
"Don't pretend that was an accident," he says, setting his hand into the water and cupping it ever so slightly. She sees the beginning of his motion and her stance turns defensive.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she says innocently.
"I think you do," he says, and uses his panther-reflexes to send a spray of water up in her direction. She splashes him back and in the span of ten seconds they've both transformed from rational, mature adults who do chores into irreverent children, covering the counter and floor and each other with water as they send sheets of it towards each other.
When there is little water left in the sink to splash, they stop, winded from laughing and soaked down the front with water. Jack wipes the water from his face, shaking his head like a dog, and Liz pushes wet pieces of bangs away from her forehead.
"Truce?" he asks, regaining his voice. They stare at each other, dripping and cold (it's August, but they have an excellent central AC system), and a shiver runs up her back that has nothing to do with the water. She pants slightly and licks her lips, which taste vaguely soapy. She shakes her head, hand darting for the spraying sink head, and reaches it a split second before he does.
"Not on your life, Donaghy."
…
It is easy to live moment-to-moment; to simply deal with the next thing as it comes.
Planning is harder. Be it for the distant future, or breakfast tomorrow, or a baby that's coming in three months, it's hard. But Liz thinks she's doing a great job of juggling it all. For her, the key is understanding that nothing about life is consistent, except how different it is. This August, she is married, loved, pregnant…last August, she was alone, picking up trash in an orange jumpsuit and learning Spanish slang words. It's remarkable how different her life is now. Liz knows that she has changed, that she has grown in more ways than one.
She feels like crying sometimes. Sure, it's partly from hormones, but it's also partly from true joy…and sometimes from the thought of she and Jack almost missing their chance. She knows now that it was always inevitable for them; it just took a little longer.
Because the good kind of love is always hidden away.
…