A/N: Someone over on Tumblr (I believe?) wanted to see something along these lines, and it's about time these two got something nice. I have a handful of other requests in a word doc - including another AU, and a chapter centreing around Groves getting some love - and I want to do the SFW/NSFW alphabet for James and Theodora, but I'm still always open for more requests, even if they might take me a wee while to get to. If you have one, you can let me know on here, or on Tumblr (esta-elavaris) where I have anonymous asks enabled, if you're feeling shy B)


The fact that Theo spent much of their time in the Caribbean bemoaning the loss of the dreary weather she'd grown up with and always associated with home often came back to bite her on days such as this. When the heavens turned dark grey and pelted everything they had down upon them with storms that could only be outmatched by Calypso's maelstrom way back when, if she greeted it with anything other than absolute glee, James would arch a dark eyebrow at her and remind her - teasingly - that this was what she'd pined for. He always did so as if he hadn't been right beside her, sweating under ridiculous layers and that god-awful wig, wishing for the same "bad" weather.

Although she could admit that she'd been a bit more vocal about how little time she had for the scorching Caribbean heat. She'd grown used to it, but never fond of it. They'd hardly gotten off on the right foot, considering her introduction to it had involved sunstroke and a brush with death-by-exposure. But hey, it made for a good story now, even if not a fond memory. Not for the most part.

As it was, she could feel James' familiar jest just dying to spill from his lips as they slid from the carriage and raced to get the horses untethered and seen to so that they could retreat into their home, out of the cold and the mud and the wet. But her rush had nothing to do with that - not the chill that steadily worked a numbness into her fingers even despite her gloves, not the rain that kept managing to slither down the back of her neck and into her dress…although the mud was a concern. She had to move twice as slowly as James to make sure she didn't fall, not content to risk such a thing now that…well.

Once she got a chance to tell James what dwelled in her mind, he'd probably bar the door to stop her so much as standing on the doorstep in weather such as this.

Their work was handled with a swift, practised efficiency, and they barely stopped to do little more than curse quietly to themselves and remove their cloaks, gloves, and boots in the side entranceway - the one that led into the kitchen, that they were free to trek mud into. After that, it was straight into the house proper, where a fire already waited for them.

Closing the door to the sitting room, they drew the curtains and then set about stripping down so that they could dry off and warm up. James was already long down to his shirt and his breeches, forgoing his stockings which were soaked through, by the time Theo had only just managed to wriggle free of her bodice and one layer of skirts. James helped her make quick work of the rest until she was down to her shift, and then she freed her hair until it cascaded down her back, free to dry properly.

Then, finally, they huddled by the hearth, easing the cold from their fingers as they splayed them towards the flames.

"It was a good day," Theo hummed.

The time immediately following their return from Maryport was always the most leisurely, and she was looking forward to the next few days. With all business seen to so freshly, they wouldn't even have to think about returning, or even working from home, for those first couple of days and would be free to do as they wished. They could walk for miles and miles - not aiming for anywhere in particular, and finding fresh new beautiful trails that they'd never discovered yet, even after living here for sometime now, then they could fish for their dinner and return home just in time for darkness to hit. Well, only if this weather cleared up a bit before then. Usually she'd be happy to just brave it, but things were about to change on that score - and even if she'd be happy to press her luck, she knew he would definitely put up a fuss if she was stupid enough to start taking risks with her health. In general, but especially now.

Keeping it a secret was growing more difficult - not just because of her excitement. The vomiting, she'd passed off as being the product of particularly bad period pain. That had happened before so it was rooted in fact, and the excuse had lasted her all of a week, and had necessitated keeping him at arm's length so he didn't realise she was lying. She just didn't want to say anything until she was certain, though, because if she told him only to end up being mistaken, she knew he'd hardly hold it against her but she'd still feel awful. But now she was sure. More than sure - because she was very, very late and she felt...different. Healers in this time couldn't tell, not yet, but all signs pointed to it. Even the part of her that was nervous about believing it now struggled to doubt.

Once they no longer looked like extras from Titanic, they shifted back a little from the flames, James extending his legs out towards her and leaning back on his hands, the glimmer in those green eyes of his very familiar to her. Smiling a little, Theo rose to her knees and moved forward until she was sitting astride him, a knee at either side of his hips. He chuckled lowly, his hands coming up to grasp at her thighs.

"This reminds me of our wedding night."

She still flushed at that memory, but tried to laugh it off as her nose brushed his.

"Jack's not here."

"Thank God," he intoned "But I was referring to our real wedding night."

"Oh. That one."

Pecking him on the lips, she lingered for longer than she'd meant to, but then pulled back before this could lead to some very fun, rather strenuous places. She didn't want to get distracted just yet.

"I have a surprise for you," she said in response to his curiosity at her pulling back.

"Oh? It's not Sparrow, is it?"

"I'm saving that for our anniversary," she teased as one of his hands trailed around to the small of her back, anchoring her in place while the other slid forward, up her left thigh "Guess again."

"Well, this very flattering garment doesn't appear to have any pockets."

He plucked at the hem of the shift, rucked up almost to her hips to illustrate his point.

"A shocking manufacturing oversight," she replied.

"Mm. Is this surprise perhaps beneath it?"

Theo smiled "In a manner of speaking."

She slung her right arm around his neck as his hand slid beneath the shift, leaning in close again but not quite kissing him, returning his hooded gaze. Before his fingertips could even graze where she knew they were headed, though, she wrapped the fingers of her left hand around his wrist and guided his hand upwards, until she was encouraging his palm to press flat against her abdomen, at the still-flat expanse of skin just below her bellybutton.

His brow furrowed, but after that it took all but a second for him to comprehend her meaning. And then his eyes widened, his back straightening as he stared at her questioningly. Theo's smile widened into a grin.

"But you just had your blood," he argued - but he didn't outright disagree with her, because she knew he wanted this to be true just as much as she did.

"No," she shook her head "I didn't. Not for a while, actually. A long while. I just needed a cover story - so I could make sure it wasn't just a stomach bug."

Staring at her with something akin to wonder, he said nothing and she couldn't help but anxiously fill the silence, even as his hand remained pressed over her abdomen, his thumb running gently over the soft skin there.

"That was why you insisted on taking the carriage to and from Maryport," he murmured.

Carriage was a rather grand name for it, considering it was just a little two-person coach that had the both of them sitting directly behind the horses, with James controlling the reins.

"I couldn't risk falling from the horse."

He'd taught her how to ride since they'd left the Caribbean, but she wasn't such a skilled rider that she'd be happy risking it. Horses could be timid at the best of times, and she knew she'd never forgive herself if she was unseated because hers got a fright and she lost…this. Their baby.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I had to be completely certain. If I said something and then turned out to be mistaken…and I was almost scared to believe it because I was starting to doubt."

"I never did," he shook his head.

"Bullshit," she teased with a soft smile.

"You'd denounce me as a liar? Me? The father of your child?"

His tone of mock-offence might've been convincing were it not for the light dancing there in his eyes…and the smile that had set up shop on his face as he gazed at her, his hand never moving from her abdomen even after hers returned to his shoulder to help keep her steady. Nor could she laugh at him for it, really, because her own still threatened to break her jaw.

"I seem to remember a whole lot of if it's to be just the two of us, that's no small reward for our suffering."

It spoke to just how many times he'd said those words to her that she could recite them perfectly to the letter. And she adored him for it.

But if there was any doubt as to just how thrilled he was, the fact that her terrible impression of his voice - which mainly meant sounding as exaggeratedly posh as possible while speaking as lowly as she was able - actually drew a laugh from him, where it usually would've just earned her a snort and a fond eye roll.

"And I meant every word of it, in spite of your disrespect," he said.

"Not because of it?"

"I'd never admit that," he smirked "And yet still, I did not doubt. I always knew it would happen. Eventually."

"You didn't let on."

"Of course not. I had no wish to weigh that on your shoulders. Nor was I offering empty platitudes. If my instincts proved mistaken, I would still be content," he said "Happily, however…they never are mistaken."

"Never?" she echoed.

"Mm."

"I seem to remember a man who despaired being saddled with me, certain I'd bring nothing but trouble."

That smile turned into a smirk that might've been mischievous were it not so damn fond. And he made no attempt to dispute her words. Theo gasped her outrage.

"Yes, well…perhaps not solely trouble," he said "And despair is a strong word."

"Oh?"

"An accurate one," he doubled down with a sniff and a lopsided, heart-stopping smile "But a strong one all the same."

"Is that any way to speak to the mother of your child?" she echoed his earlier words back to him.

At that, though, she could see his desire to poke fun at her fall away, along with his smirk, as he gazed at her like she was the eighth wonder of the world. Or the seventh, she supposed - for Christ the Redeemer hadn't been built yet.

"Say it again," he murmured "Please, Theodora - say it again."

His hand finally slid away from her abdomen, remaining under her shift to cup her bare hip, squeezing gently. He needn't have begged her to repeat it. The pause his words had prompted wasn't deliberate, but because they'd dragged her head-first into a memory - one from Tortuga, when he'd first said something like that to her. When the words he'd wanted to hear were you'll get it all back, and how scared she'd been at the time. They'd come a long, long way since then.

And she celebrated it by doing as he wished, leaning in close until she was practically whispering the words against his lips.

"I'm carrying your child," she repeated softly "Our baby, James."

It was he who closed the gap, kissing her deeply as her fingertips threaded up into his hair. Before it could lead anywhere particularly enthralling, though, he was inhaling sharply and pulling back.

"You are far too cold," he said, the hand that had been under her shift withdrawing, and then grasping the linen by the hem so he could pull it further down.

It was a fool's errand, considering how she still straddled his lap, but that was quickly remedied (although not in a way that was to her liking) as he gently urged her up and off of him so he could throw another log onto the fire, and then he herded her in the direction of the sofa.

"You do realise you're moving me away from the fire?" she pointed out drily.

He didn't justify her snark with an answer, well not a verbal one - but the blanket that had previously been slung across the back of the chair (usually utilised when they were down here reading on cold winter's evenings) was wrapped around her quickly, and then he sat beside her and began to rub some warmth into her hands.

"You haven't eaten since Maryport," he said "You should eat."

"Dinner's in an hour or two. I'm sure I won't waste away before then."

"You're not hungry?"

She breathed a laugh, shaking her head as he breathed warm air into her hands where they were clasped between his "No, James, I'm not hungry. Just very, very happy."

His lips split into a wide, brilliant grin - the kind those who worked with him would often insist he wasn't capable of - and she knew the feeling was more than mutual.

There was one other thing she knew, too. Christ the Redeemer had not been invented yet, but cotton wool had been - which her husband would no doubt delight in, as he'd have her wrapped up safely in it by the time she even began to show.


A/N: I do have a google doc draft that centres around Theo's doubt (and how facing that as a woman in this time period, especially, would absolutely fucking suck) which was originally going to be the first half of this, but it didn't feel right. I may or may not post it separately at some point, but I like having this one just be happy and sweet.