Pregnant Gallya? Illya as a doting, loving, funny father to be to the mother of his child?
They’re in Greece, his hand is on the small of her back where the skin is exposed from the cut of her dress. Wherever his hand settles she feels her temperature rise a few degrees and when she looks up at him, he gives her the smallest of smiles. It’s a subtle turn of his lips that is only reserved for her and Gaby smiles back for a moment, raising both brows, “Can we go?” She whispers the words softly.
The sun is high overhead and Illya can see the redness shining across her cheeks and forehead when she turns towards him. Gaby turns her head in and lays it carefully against the front of his chest for a moment, sniffing softly then makes a face. Her nose crinkles and she pulls back from him, shaking her dark head, “Your cologne is awful,” She emphasizes on the words as she backs up from him, hand on her belly. He can only shake his head to her.