Specs: Babylon 5, John/Delenn, 1100 words
John was lying across the middle of the bed, his head resting on her abdomen. One of his hands gently ran up and down the top of her thigh. There was nothing particularly sensual or seductive in the gesture - he had quickly learned to read the signs of her "morning sickness," which tended to strike her in the afternoon. She'd had to excuse herself from the ISA meeting today, only the second since they'd moved to Minbar. She'd done her best to fight against her nausea for as long as she could, but finally decided that it would be better for her to gracefully excuse herself, rather than vomit in front of the representatives of two dozen different worlds. Delenn had then returned to their quarters, feeling weak and dreadful.
John had joined her ten minutes later.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, afraid that her leaving had caused some kind of offense. He didn't answer, just took off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, moving here and there throughout their rooms, finally returning with a wet cloth and some tea. She did not wish to drink the tea, just smell the warm vapors drift her way, and he knew that, setting it down on the table beside the bed. He folded the wet cloth and pressed it against her forehead, and she closed her eyes, too tired to protest his attentions.
Now he turned his head and placed a kiss against her belly. "Hello, baby," he said quietly.
"The fetus does not have ears yet. It is also only ten centimeters long. It cannot hear you."
"Sure he can." John shifted so he was facing her, his ear pressed against her stomach again. The warmth and pressure of his head felt good, more comforting than the cloth and the tea.
"What makes you think the fetus is male?"
"Just have a feeling." They laid in silence for awhile, and the nausea slowly diminished. Delenn ran her fingers slowly through John's hair, wishing that they could just stay like this. Let someone else run the ISA, let someone else lead the Rangers. They could just stay in these rooms, days spent laughing and talking and making love, waiting for their child to come.
"Have you thought about names?" he asked, just as she was starting to drift off. As she always had to do when he wanted to talk to her when she was not fully awake, she had to take a moment to reorient her mind to think in English.
"Not really, no," she finally answered. "Minbari do not name children until they are three months old. How can you assign a name to a child without first meeting him or her, learning a little about what kind of person he or she is?"
"I was thinking about David."
"After your father." He nodded his head against her belly, and Delenn felt herself overwhelmed by her love for him, almost as though she were feeling it for the first time. He turned his head again, whispering to her stomach.
"Hello, baby David."
"And what if it is female?"
"Hello, baby David." She laughed, and he kissed her stomach. She wished she'd had the energy to change out of her robes when she'd come home. She did not feel up to making love, but she would have preferred the feel of his lips against her skin. "I wish we knew when we made him," John said.
"Or her." He smiled at that, but there was something smug in his smile that made her suddenly sure that he was right, that the fetus was male - and that somehow he knew it was male. "I hope that it was not when we copulated inside that supply closet," she said, knowing that it would make him laugh. He did, and she smoothed his hair back, liking the way his laugh brightened his face, brought out the happy wrinkles around his eyes, and smoothed out the unhappy wrinkles on his forehead. He worked too much, never took time off to rest. Maybe she would endeavor to have her morning sickness more often. If he thought he was taking care of her, she might be able to sneak in a little taking care of him.
"I liked when we copulated inside that supply closet. It was fun."
"But that is a not a very dignified story to one day tell our child."
"Dear baby David," he said, nuzzling his nose against her abdomen, his voice reaching up into a higher register. She had never heard him sound like that before. "You were made on a day when I was very, very tired, and frustrated, and busy. And I was walking to my office to pick up some paperwork I'd left behind, and your mom was walking the opposite way, and she was so beautiful, David. And when we saw each other we knew that nothing else mattered at that moment. So I grabbed her and pulled her into the nearest empty room, which was small and filled with cleaning supplies, but we didn't care. I'll fill you in more when you're older, but there are few things better in life than spending time with the woman you love. Especially when that time is spent nailing her up against a door."
Delenn laughed, as much from the lilting tone in his voice as from what he said. "I will not allow you to relate this story to our son."
"Let me tell you, David, I really gave it to your mom."
"John, stop it!"
"I mean, I don't want to brag, but I'm pretty sure I screwed her brains out." She again tried to tell him to quit, but she was laughing too hard. He was laughing now, too, and pulled himself up the bed to lie beside her. He kissed her, and she tossed aside the cloth on her head, rolling onto her side to press up against him. "I'd say 'let's make a baby,' but my work here is already done," he murmured between kisses.
"It still sounds like a good idea," she said, and he started unfastening her robes. "We can try to come up with a better story."
"Dear baby David, you were made on a day your mom played hooky from an important meeting."
"Be quiet and help me take this off."
"Dear baby David, you were made on a sunny day, on some grassy hill far away from the city, no one but the birds watching."
"We have never done that."
"I already scheduled us a morning off next week."
"I like that story, John."
"I thought you would."