Chapter One: Morning Sickness


Nick

Ashley and I got married on January 31st, as you probably already know. I think everyone does. It was on every newspaper from here to kingdom come just because of all the drama that went with it. Like with Chris and all.

It was just ten days later that I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Ashley puking her guts out in the master bathroom. I rubbed my eyes and rolled out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom in a way that would've made anyone swear I was a drunken sailor instead of just massively sleepy. Ashley was on her knees praising the porcelain gods, her face red, tears in her eyes. I scooped up her hair in my fist and held it behind her neck, dropping my ass onto the edge of the bathtub beside her as she leaned in for round whatever-number-she-was-on of the hurlfest. This was the beauty that was morning sickness. Just the sound of it made my sleepy belly nauseated. But this is what I am for, as the husband of a pregnant woman. Holding the hair.

It's the least I could do. After all, it was my sperms that made her this way.

Is it sperms? Is sperm plural? I dunno. Science is a bitch.

Or spelling. Whatever that would be. Grammar, maybe?

Fuck I'm too tired for this shit.

Ashley struggled to pull away from the toilet, looking up at me with a hiccough and a miserable expression. "You didn't hafta get up," she mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She sounded as miserable as she looked.

I let her hair loose as she attempted to struggle to her feet, and I stood up and helped her instead. "I wanted to," I lied. I wanted to sleep, but I also wanted her to know I cared about her and I'd spent enough of my life treating her like crap. I didn't need to do it any longer. She turned on the faucet and cupped her hand under the stream, swishing water around in her mouth before spitting into the sink, rinsing away the sick. I pulled the Listerine out of the cupboard and handed it to her and she swished that about, too. "Feelin' better?" I asked her gently.

"I think so," she answered. "Thank you," she added.

I nodded and herded her back to the bed.

"Zoey didn't make me this sick," she groaned.

"Maybe it's a sign this one's a boy?" I suggested hopefully. I so wanted it to be a boy. Ever since Ashley had told me she was pregnant - as my birthday present a week and a half before - I'd been begging whatever gods there may be out there in the universe to please give this one a penis so I had someone to pass on my man-wisdom to. That's all I wanted.

Ashley sighed as she hit the mattress. I laid next to her and wrapped my arms around her. She wasn't showing yet, but my hand still rested on her stomach, like if it was there I had some connection with the baby inside. It really wasn't that long ago that I would've run screaming from something like this, really, but yet it felt a hundred thousand lightyears past for all the excitement I felt inside me every time I imagined a little human being growing inside Ashley. A little me-and-her cyborg thing. I thought of what pre-plane-crash me would've thought of the idea of me laying in bed with one baby in the next room and another one on the way. Pre-plane-crash me would've scoffed at the concept, never would've believed that I could possible be not only okay with it but really excited about it. Pre-plane-crash me would've been freaked out by the fact that I was laying in bed with Dogface at all, as I would've called her then, let alone having caused her current delicate state.

But now...

I nestled my face against her arm, perfectly content. More than that. Completely happy for the first time in my life.

"We should do something nice... on Saturday," Ashley mumbled into the darkness just before I fell asleep.

"What's Saturday?" I mumbled into her skin.

She was quiet a moment. Then, "It's not important, really, I just -- I thought maybe it'd be nice to -- because -- nevermind."

I opened my eyes at the disappointment in her voice. I didn't wanna disappoint her this soon in our marriage - no way. So I did a quick mental evaluation. Not an anniversary, we just got married like eleven days ago... her birthday wasn't yet, either... not Zoey's... a holiday? I ran through a list of them in my head. It took me going over the list twice in my mind before I realized what it was.

Valentine's Day.

"No, no," I said, "It is important. I just - I'm half asleep."

"I know you don't like the whole Valentiney holiday-y thing," Ashley said.

"Who says I don't like Valentine's Day?" I asked defensively. I dunno why I got all defensive about it. It's not like I do like Valentine's Day or anything. At least I never had. Maybe it'd be different with an actual girl that I actually cared about instead of an obligation to give flowers and stuff to one of the current flavors of the week as the previous years had called for.

"You always say that you don't like Valentine's Day," she said.

"When?"

"Every year?" She laughed.

"Every year before you," I said with emphasis.

Ashley laughed again. Like she thought maybe I was joking or maybe she couldn't believe I was serious. And because I had this feeling that she didn't believe me, I said. "You'll see. You'll be amazed what I have planned."

"You have a plan?" she asked, laughter dying, replaced by surprise. "You?"

"Is that so shocking?" I asked.

"Uh. Yeah. Do you really?"

"Really."

Ashley hummed in a way that told me she was surprised, intrigued, and maybe even excited. "You never will cease to surprise me, Mr. Carter," she commented.

I leaned over and kissed her cheek, "I don't plan to any time soon, Mrs. Carter," I replied, and I rolled back down and pressed my face back against her arm, hugging her, my hand still splayed across her belly, trying as hard as I could not to let her feel the tension going through my veins, electrifying my body.

I didn't have anything planned.

But now I had to get something planned. And something amazing, no less.

The shit I get myself into.




Ashley

I knew Nick didn't have anything planned - or at least I strongly suspected it. He felt twitchy and nervous laying there beside me in the dark. But that was okay by me because I hadn't really planned anything, either. I'd been too busy puking every five minutes.

Which, whatever Nick had to say about boys versus girls, I was still nervous about all of the puking because I truly didn't remember feeling this shitty when I was pregnant with Zoey. Was there something extra volatile about being pregnant with Nick's baby versus being pregnant with Chris's that was making my uterus flip the hell out? Was it because I'd been through so much bullshit when I was carrying Zoey that my body was just like oh fuck no not this again? Was the universe really so evil to Nick and I that something terrible could be happening? What would I do if I lost this baby? My hand slid to my stomach nervously at just the thought, like I had to protect my baby from the elements of the horribly nasty universe that was clearly out against Nick and I.

Speaking of Nick.

Valentine's Day.

I glanced down at Nick to make sure he was definitely asleep before I slid out of the bed again and pulled the shoebox from under the bed. I glanced up at him, now smooshed into the mattress, a little bit of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth, his mostly-naked body pale in the moonlight. The sheet only just covered him. He was almost too perfect to tear my eyes away from but finally, after a good long look at the curve of his legs and the dip in his spine and the way his arm curved aroun his muscles, I grabbed the box to my chest and snuck out of the room, being careful not to step too heavy on the carpet and wake him up again.

In Zoey's room I looked down at her in her crib before sitting down on the floor and pulling the lid off the shoebox. It was a collection of random crap that I'd saved over the years. I needed inspiration for Valentine's Day and I knew exactly what I needed to see to get it. I shifted through letters from Patrick (my sort of honorary father), and the letter from my actual, biological father, and pictures of Zoey and pictures of Nick and I growing up until I came to the one thing I'd been looking for to begin with.

I put one hand on my belly as I stared at the crinkled up, ratty old Valentine... a relic from 1987.


I'd kept it tacked to my bedroom wall for over twelve years. It was jut a cheesy Ninja Turtles valentine - one of those stupid cartoony things that elementary school kids give to each other in little paper mailboxes they make and hang up on their desks the week leading up to February 14th. Nick's was the only Valentine I received that year, since I was an outcast because I lived at the group home (like being an orphan was a disease the other kids could catch from being in close proximity to me); but that was okay because Nick's also happened to be the only one that I wanted to get.

Cowabunga! Be my Valentine? To Dogface, from Nick.

I remember laying on my bed after school at the home I lived at, certain that I would marry Nick Carter someday. After all, I was his valentine. Isn't that how it starts? You meet a boy, you maybe play some kick ball after school, when it's time to play kissing tag on the playground you always go after him, and then he gives you a scratch and sniff Ninja Turtle valentine and you're pretty much engaged from there. We'd get married and I'd finally have a real home, some place that I really belonged in. At the time, that was something I'd never had. And someday we'd have kids and name them Leonardo, Donatello, Michaelangelo, and... whatever the hell the fourth turtle is named. And they'd all have a home.

That was the dream for me - having a home and having a family. A real family - with a mom and a dad and the babies all living together under one roof.

But of course as you know it didn't just turn out that way...

Nick became an international pop star and soared to unbelievable heights of fame seemingly overnight and instead of coming home to the girl next door, he slept with every girl that fell across his path. And sometimes they were so drunk they literally fell across his path. And desperate just to be something in his life I became his wingman, his assistant in hooking up. I was practically on staff the way the guy acted...

In all the years that I knew Nick I only received the one Valentine's Day card from him.

It took a lot of patience and heartache and a lot of waiting to get to a point that Nick Carter would fall asleep hugging me, that he would tell me he loved me, that we got married and now were working on that whole having kids thing. And sure, Zoey wasn't named after any of the turtles (Damn it, what is that fourth turtle's name? It's a painter, too, I know it is. Ugh!), but that was obviously only a child's pipedream anyways. Nobody really names their kids after TMNT when they grow up, whatever they may say when they're seven. My point is that even though it wasn't the way I'd expected it to be - we'd hit a lot of massive speed bumps along the way - it was worth every moment of blinding pain that I'd gone through to get here.

I scratched the Valentine gently. It still held just a bit of it's smell - pizza - even after all these years. I smiled to myself, remembering that horrible bowl cut mop of hair Nick had back then, and the goofy way his teeth kind of bumped into each other in the front and the way he had just a teeny bit of a speech impediment that he eventually grew out of naturally between just getting older and all his vocal lessons and stuff. That had been the Nick I'd originally fallen in love with - that little boy who gave everyone, even a leper like an orphan, a chance.

I knew it was important - this Valentine's Day - to show him how much I loved him then, how much I'd always loved him, how much I loved him now, and how much I always would love him. But how?

There came a little cry from the crib and gently I put the Valentine back into the box and closed it before pushing myself up to my feet and leaning over the crib to look at Zoey, who was kicking her little legs, making a face of disapproval as she shed her blanket away from her. "Oh Zozo," I whispered, reaching down and picking her up, "Don't worry, mummy's here," I pulled her to my chest and she thumped her hands against me, clutching my hair with one little fist.

I settled into the rocking chair and moved softly, rocking her, staring into her tightly squeezed shut eyes. She was doing a poo-poo. That's what that little grumpy face meant.

Nick waddled into the frame of the door, rubbing his eyes again, wearing the sweatpants he kept by the bed that he'd obviously just pulled on. His chest was still bare. He was still a specimen in the dim lamp light of the room. He stood out - the only starkly manly thing in a room full of pink. He stared across at me. "You got up fast," he mumbled.

"I was in here anyways," I answered. "I couldn't sleep. Didn't wanna wake you up."

He nodded. I could see the sleep in his eyes still. "She okay?" he asked in a rumbly, blurry sort of voice.

I smiled because he asked. Because he cared to ask. Because he was a good father like that. Because he'd answered the baby monitor so quickly.

"Yeah," I answered, "We're good."

He smiled back sleepily.

I needed to get him the perfect Valentine's gift -- nothing less would be enough.

"Oliver," I told him, a smirk on my face. Because we'd said I love you to each other this way almost every single day.

Nick's sleepy smile widened. "Oliver too," he said, his voice kinda running all together like a blurry mess. He walked over and knelt down at the arm of the chair, staring at Zoey as she grumped and pooped in my arms. "Oliver, too, Zoey-zo," he said. Then he caught a wiff of the odor emanating from her diaper. "Oh man, Zoey, that is a righteous deuce you're laying." He waved his hand over his nose and got up, pulling his t-shirt up to cover his nostrils.

I laughed.

"I don't care what AJ says," Nick muttered as he hightailed it from the room - probably afraid I'd ask him to change the diaper, "Shit does not smell like roses no matter who lays the poo."

"Coward!" I shouted as he disappeared into the hallway, but I was laughing. I looked down at Zoey, "Silly Daddy," I cooed, "Silly Daddy!"

Zoey shrieked with laughter.

Chapter Two: Fluff, Interrupted


Ashley

I stood in the bathroom later that morning, sideways, my shirt pulled up just under my boobs, staring at the curve of my stomach in the mirror. I was running my hand over it, trying to decide if I was showing or not yet. The stretchmarks hadn't even completely faded off from carrying Zoey yet. They were raw and pink and lined the bottom of my stomach like folded up accordians. I frowned.

Nick stuck his head around the bathroom door. "Hey," he said. He looked at me in the reflection of the mirror a moment, a small smile spread across his face and he stepped into the room behind me. I started to pull my shirt down, but he slipped his own hands over mine. "Hey don't, you're sexy." He kissed my shoulder.

"Sexy. Please." My eyes were still on those stretchmarks.

"You're always sexy to me," he said, moving his hands slowly over my belly. Somehow his hands there made me feel fuller, made the curve look more definite, more sexy-momma than stretched-out-crazy woman. And his body felt warm against my back. "Have I told you oliver today?" he asked.

"Not yet," I replied.

"Well," he said, and he leaned down, pressing his mouth against my shoulder, "Oliver."

I smiled.

"What? No oliver back?" he teased, a smirk playing across his face.

"Oliver back," I replied with a giggle.

"You're just sayin' that," he said, his voice teasing.

"No really, I do," I laughed.

"Prove it," he said, pulling me with him into the bedroom, his hands tangling our fingers all up together as he pulled me on top of him on the bed, my breasts smooshing on his chest. It'd taken him half the day to get around to putting clothing on his body - like more than just those horrible sweatpants - a black tank top and a pair of light washed jeans. But it took me only a couple moments to get them back off him.

We'd had sex the first time a little more than two years ago - in Las Vegas on Nick's birthday - and countless times since then (in countless places) - but it still made my skin heat up with anticipation every time I started to undress him. It was like opening a present on Christmas morning, only way hotter of course. He was everything I'd ever asked for, and he was just for me, and I felt this rush of adrenaline and urgency flow through my system like drugs. If Nick Carter was crack, I was addicted, and I was so not going to rehab to get him out of my system. Like, ever. My heart rate increased and I pushed his shirt up, wrangling with it, until it slipped over his head, messing up his hair. He stared up into my eyes with such intensity that I found it impossible to look away. My fingers fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans. I could feel him pressing against the fabric, his body tense and on full alert. I kissed his face to break the hypnotic hold his eyes held on me and then kissed down his chest, slowly sliding away from him until I was kneeling on the floor in front of him, and I kissed his jeans softly as I pulled the zipper down. He groaned as he grabbed hold of the bedspread, squeezing his knuckles tight, pulling the fabric tight in his fist.

I slid his pants down and because he's always commando he was fully on display. It was still a little strange, being this intimate with him. I'd grown up with Nick. Nick and I went back further than my understanding of what sex even was went back. I could still remember sitting in the pipe and talking about our bodies developing when we were kids after the first session of health class. I remember sitting in there during a rainstorm eating gummy worms and teasing Nick that his penis probably looked like one of them, waving a red worm in his face until he grabbed it away from me. "It ain't nothin' like that," he'd said haughtily, "Not that it matters to you, 'cos you'll never see it, flatty."

I grinned up at him now, imagining the look on his eleven year old face if I'd ever told him that we'd be married someday and my boobs would eventually actually fill out a pretty good sized bra cup.

"Why are you laughing down there?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"I'm not laughing," I said. I couldn't help it. I could just picture the perplexed expression he would've had if he'd only known.

"Yeah you are. Is there something wrong with my dick?" he sat up, concern definitely in his voice now.

I leaned up and pushed him back, "No, Mr. Carter," I said in a husky voice, taking a deep breath to regain my composure. I stared into his eyes, then said thickly, "There's... absolutely... nothing wrong with your dick." I reached for it and he tilted his head back as my fingers found him and started rubbing gently. "It's perfect."

"Yeah?" he groaned.

"Yes, sir," I answered, and I lowered myself back to my knees, now that he was contented. I made a mental note to tell him what I'd thought of later, after the sex, when he was feeling less self-conscious. He'd laugh at the memory, too, when he was in a less... stimulated... state. I smiled as I moved my hand slowly across him. He was right. He was nothing like the red gummy worm.

Nick's eyes were closed, he was biting his lip in anticipation, and he drew in a breath as I pressed my lips to his skin softly.

I was just getting started on him really good when Zoey's cries broke through the baby monitor.

"No," Nick whimpered.

I ignored it at first. She'd quiet down, I told myself. We couldn't be running to her every beck and call, especially now that she was getting older... and I kept going on Nick. But she kept crying. "We should... prolly... go check..." he murmered, moaning just a little at the last of the words as I withdrew myself from him.

"Probably," I admitted.

He was breathing hard.

"You okay?"

"Go check on her," he muttered.

This wasn't the first time we'd tried and failed to have sex without getting interrupted by Zoey - it wasn't even close. Hell it wasn't even the first time that week. It was like she had radar and knew we were in the middle of doing stuff. I mean obviously we'd succeeded a couple times at least - the little bundle of lovin' in my belly was proof enough of that - but most of those times had been when we'd left Zoey with friends. AJ and Rochelle, or Brian and his new girlfriend, Katie. Zoey was just way too good at interrupting us. She hated when our attention wasn't on her 24/7.

Kinda says something about Nick and I and our sexual encounters, though, that we couldn't squeeze in even what we considered a quickie before she noticed.

They last forever.

Until she cries.

"One of these days, Mr. Carter," I said as I pulled my shirt back on, "I'm gonna fluff you uninterrupted." I bent down and kissed his cheek as he grabbed his shirt and tugged it on.

"My wrist will appreciate the vacation time," he called after me as I rushed out of the room to answer the crying baby.




Nick

"Sex on Valentine's Day."

Ashley looked up. Zoey was in her high chair, a bunch of cheerios smooshed on the tray in front of her, Ashley sitting on a stool she'd pulled up next to her, waving a spoonful of mushy baby stuff at her face. I'd spent the last twenty minutes recovering from our near escapade. I pulled a bottle of Kale juice from the fridge and unscrewed the cap as Ashley tucked the spoon into Zoey's mouth.

"I think that's what we should do," I said. "Each other."

Ashley laughed, "Okay. But what're we gonna do with this one?" she waved at Zoey.

"Gabbbaaahhhhhhhhloo!" Zoey waved her hands at the spoon and Ashley obediently turned around and stuck some more food in Zoey's mouth. But she spit it out, smooshing it between her lips so it dripped down her chin. She was more interested in Ashley's attention than the food she was holding out.

"Maybe we can get Brian or AJ to baby sit," I said. I pulled a chair up and sat next to my two ladies at the breakfast bar, putting my feet up. Zoey waved her hands at me and I reached out and picked up a Cheerio, closing it in my fist. She laughed and tried to pry it out of my fingers.

"On Valenine's?" Ashley asked. "They're probably making plans, too."

"We could hire someone," I said.

Ashley frowned.

"I know you don't like having people we don't know around Zoey but --"

"Nick, you've got so many psychotic fans out there..."

"I know, but --"

"What if one of the true nut jobs shows up on our door step to baby sit her? Huh? What then? Or what if it's one of Chris's friends or something? What if it's just a generally crazy person? Like that chick that shook the baby to death that was in the news that time."

"You worry too much."

Ashley pouted at me.

"We'll figure something out."

"We only have a couple days. We really should've looked into this before now."

"We were a little busy," I answered. "Getting married and stuff."

"BLOOOOOOOOOOOF!!" Zoey was tired of picking at my fingers and wanted attention again. I released the Cheerio as Ashley spooned more mushy stuff into her mouth absently.

We both glanced at her. She grinned and threw pink giraffe over the side of the chair. Ashley sighed and picked the giraffe up and put it on the counter. "RRRRRRRRRRRA!!" Zoey waved her arms at the giraffe.

"Did she just say raff?" I asked, "As in... Giraffe?"

"Nawh, she said ra," Ashley replied.

"In in... giRAffe?" I asked.

"She was leaning against the tray," Ashley answered. "I think the tray made her grunt." She paused. "I dont' want her first word to be giraffe," she frowned.

"We don't get to pick the first word," I reminded her.

"I know..." Ashley said. "But I'd like it to be something nice like dada." She turned to Zoey. "Say dada, Zoey. Dada."

I walked over and picked the giraffe up from the counter and hande it to Zoey, whose pudgey little arms were still waving desperately in that direction. And I bent forward and kissed Ashley softly, her eyes swiveling up to look at me. "Oliver," I whispered to her, and she laughed and kissed me back.

Even if sex wasn't really an option as often as I'd like, I was still happy. Happier than I'd ever been in all my life before. I couldn't help but smirk on the inside at how appalled my old self would've been with my new self. Not having had sex in more than a day used to make me feel like a failure, and thinking of having sex with the same girl more than once had made shivers of horror crawl down my spine. Now, I was just glad to have my family, a place where I belonged.

In the grand scheme of things, that plane crash had been the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Chapter Three: I Need A Favor


Nick

"I have the answer to our problem," Ashley announced later that night as she threw herself onto the mattress beside me. I was laying on the bed, my stocking feet crossed, basket ball highlights on the TV. I looked over at her. "Our sex on Valentine's Day problem," she elaborated.

I muted the TV and sat up.

"We celebrate a day early."

"Yeah?"

Ashley nodded. "Valentine's Day comes on February 13th this year. That way, we're not messing up anyone' s V-Day plans, but we still get to do it like horny, over caffeinated rabbits all night long if we so choose because Zoey will be at Uncle AJ's or Uncle Brian's or somebody's." She grinned, quite proud of herself for having come up with the idea.

I leaned over and pressed my mouth to hers.

"You're a fluffing genius, you know that?" I asked, pecking her lips softly with my own, our noses bumping a little, soft laughter between us.

We fell asleep whispering plans for all the filthy stuff we were going to do to each other on Valentine's Day.

The next morning, I got up bright and early. Ashley was still in bed as I planted myself on the back deck with a cup of coffee, the baby monitor, and my cell phone. I called AJ.

"You better be dying," he muttered into the phone by way of a greeting. AJ's never been much of a morning person, but I wanted to get everything squared away first thing because I was gonna be celebrating Valentine's Day with Ashley for the first time in the twenty-some-odd-almost-thirty-years that I knew her, and I needed all the damn time in the world to get it right. And who better to help plan a big romantic gesture than the king himself?

"I need a favor," I said.

"Fuck you."

"Don't hang up!" I said, laughing.

"Dude, you got a kid now, you know how rare and beautiful sleeping is."

"Trust me," I replied, looking at the baby monitor, "I know all about all the things that become rare when you gotta kid around. Which is kind of what I'm calling about. In a way."

AJ paused. "Go on?"

"I need sex."

"Is this a booty call?"

"No, AJ --"

"Cos you should talk to Ashley about that favor, not me."

"That's not the favor, dude."

"That's good." AJ paused. "So what's the favor, then?"

I took a deep breath, "I need your help."

"To bang Ashley?"

"Dude, stop it. I need you to baby sit Zoey on the 13th."

AJ was quiet a moment. Then, "You know Valentine's Day is the 14th, right?"

"Yes," I replied. "We're gonna celebrate it a day early so y'all will be available to baby-sit for us," I explained. "It's our ingenious idea to get what we want." I grinned, even though AJ couldn't see me.

"Okay. I was just checking 'cos - no offense or nothin' - but, you're not exactly the best at, you know, dates and shit," AJ pointed out.

"So will you do it?"

"I'm sure I can talk Ro into watching the lil squeaker for the day," AJ replied.

"Awesome," I said. I took a sip of my coffee, then a deep breath. "Okay, I have another favor."

"Always asking me for shit, I swear, man... one of these days..." I could picture AJ shaking his head on the other end of the line.

"Well, I'm not real good at the - you know - the romantic stuff."

AJ was quiet.

"Like I'm real good at the sex - and we're gonna have a lotta sex that day - but I wanna, like, amaze her at how romantical I am that day." I paused because romantical had sounded wrong. "Roman-a-tie-a-cal? Ro- ro--maa - nit-a-sysim? Romalositic?"

"Oh Jesus," AJ said. "We have a lot to do and so little time."




Ashley

"I need a favor."

Rochelle groaned.

"I know it's early, but --"

"Your husband is on the phone with my husband," Rochelle said. "Favor's already been asked. We'll watch your kid. Let me sleep."

"Don't hang up!" I said, laughing and stretching so my feet caught the very last of the warmth Nick had left behind whe he got up to go talk to AJ on the phone. "I have a different favor."

Rochelle groaned again.

"Look, I know it's early, I know, but how else am I gonna be sure Nick won't walk in while I ask you this? You'll know if he's about to hang up and you'll tell me." I grinned. Nick thought he was so stealth. I was so the stealth one.

"What's the favor?" Rochelle asked finally, after much humming, hawing, groaning, and silent complaining.

"I need help figuring out a great romantic gesture for Nick for our first Valentine's Day together as an official couple," I answered.

Rochelle snorted, "Please. You've been in love with the bloke since you were kids. You've probably got a million ideas about it. You don't need my help. Besides, I'm not the romantic one in this relationship." I heard her snuggle into AJ.

"Exactly. I need a guy perspective to bounce some ideas off of."

"Well shit then, you called the right girl," Rochelle replied. "Tell me what you got."

"Okay," I answered, "So. I was thinking. When we were kids, Nick gave me this Valentine. When we were like eight years old or something. And I still have it. And I was thinking about having it framed and giving it back to him."

"Yawn. Boring. Corny as hell." Rochelle's voice was commanding, "You should go to some lingerie store and get the sexiest leather strappy thing you can possibly find and wear it so your boobs all squish out and you look like Madame Buxom or something."

"He's already getting sex for Valentine's regardless of the present I give him," I answered. "I don't know about the Madame Buxom bit, but there will be boobs involved." Leave it to Rochelle to give me a completely boy-ish answer. She and AJ really had found the perfect partners for one another. I smirked to myself.

"Well then. As long as there's boobs..." she replied, "As a secondary gift, the Valentine thing is kinda cool." She laughed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can't believe you have a Valentine still from when you were a kid. That's insane."

"Yeah. It's like twenty-six years old. It has a Ninja Turtle on it."

"A Ninja Turtle?" Rochelle laughed, "You should've opened with that. Cool factor just hiked about a thousand percent."

"What was I thinking?" I joked.

"Hey - I love joking with you, but mayday, the boys are getting ready to hang up," Rochelle said, breaking into the laugh we'd been sharing.

"Thanks for the heads up."

"Anytime. See you when we baby sit."

"Bye."

I quickly hung up and put my phone back up on the charger on the night stand and rolled onto my back, withdrawing my feet back to my side of the bed, before he crawled under the blankets and wrapped his arms around me, completely unaware that I was even awake. I loved when he snuggled in like that.

At least until Zoey's cries came through the monitor speakers.

Chapter Four: You Gotta Woo Me


Ashley

The sunlight came in through the giant picture window of our bedroom, reflecting off the ocean outback. I stared out at it as a seagull soared past. Living in this house with Nick was like a fairy tale come to life. I hummed contentedly and leaned back into him. He was just so soft and warm and wonderful. He snuggled into me and pressed his face into the nape of my neck and I could feel his breath on my skin, his arm wrapping around me, holding me close. "Happy Valentine's Day Early," he whispered into my ear.

"Happy Valentine's Day Early," I answered, smiling.

Nick kissed the base of my neck where it met my spine and then I felt him roll away, the mattress flexing as his weight left it. I snuggled into the pillow, feeling lonely now that he was gone, but thankful it was only to the adjoined bathroom. I listened to the roaring of the waves outside as I waited for him to come back. The toilet flushed, and the faucet ran. I could hear him brushing his teeth. When the bathroom door opened again, the bed bounced under his weight as he climbed into bed with enthusiasm.

"Okay baby," he said with energy in his voice - far more than I had yet that early in the morning, "Let's do this." He grinned and pulled off the tank top he'd slept in.

I raised my eyebrow and stared up at him. "You think we're gonna just wake up and fluff?" I asked.

"Well, it is sex day," he said.

"Uh-uh mister," I said, "I don't just put out, you gotta woo me."

He paused, chewing on his lip. "Is that slang for... you know..." he wiggled his tongue at me suggestively.

I snorted. "You wish, sir."

Nick grinned, a dirty sort of smirk playing on his face. He looked like an impish little boy. "No, darlin'," he said in a low, sultry voice that sent shivers down my spine, "I think you wish."

I'm not gonna lie. I came extremely close to giving in right there, with him doing nothing but giving the suggestion. Because yes, I did wish. Everyone thinks the guys are the sex crazy mammals, and yeah in Nick's case he's a total fricking horn-dog, but little known fact is that when it comes to sex with Nick, I'm a horn-doggette. Or a horn-dogface, maybe. So I stared into his eyes, my body saying yes, my brain saying no. Stay strong, Vagina! my heart shrieked, We can fluff his brains out later today, no worries.

"Get dressed, pig," I said, laughing and pushing his face away.

"Okay, okay," he caved, "I figured it wouldn't hurt to give it a whirl... but I do have actual plans." Nick's brilliantly blue eyes sparkled with an air of mystery. "So, you should wear that purple dress of yours and meet me down stairs." He winked.

I winked back because I knew what was gonna be under the purple dress.




Nick

The thing about plans - and I swear this is how the universe and God and stuff like planned this to be - is that you make'em but they very, very rarely actually happen the way you make'em.

At least not in my experience.

I stood in the kitchen and packed the subs and drinks I'd bought the day before into a cooler bag, and brought them out to the car, where I'd hidden a bottle of sparkling grape juice (because of all the pregnant-ness, I couldn't do champagne) and a tray of chocolate covered strawberries. Ashley was gonna be mind-fucked, I thought to myself as I wrapped the seat buckle around the cooler to hold it into place. Completely mind-fucked. I'd invested a lot of time into planning this for once and it showed.

My track record for holidays wasn't the best. I've always either completely forgotten her altogether or given her some stupid piece of crap at the last moment - like the little jar of beach sand from Miami that I'd given her the Christmas before the plane crash, which she still wore around her neck. I ran my fingers over the little velvet box in my pocket, which contained a new necklace, something I hoped she'd replace the bottle of sand with. Every time I looked at that little bottle of sad, I felt like I'd let her down all over again.

There was no way in hell I was gonna screw up this holiday, our first together as a married couple. No way.

When I went back in the house, Ashley was just coming down the stairs, her body perfectly wrapped in that purple dress of hers. Well maybe a little less than perfectly - it was tight across her belly, but not so much so that she couldn't zip it up. She'd put her hair up and dusted powder across her eye lids that made 'em all purpley and sexy. I smiled as she drifted down the last couple steps, digging through a little white purse that hung from her shoulder, a sweater hanging over her arm.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the entire world, I just know it," I told her.

Ashley laughed. "You, sir, are entirely biased."

I shook my head, "Not really. No. I just have these two holes in my head called eyes."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "I can tell you're buttering me up for sex." Even though her voice lilted with annoyance, I could tell she was actually really humored because her giggle was in her eye-twinkle. "You'd think it wasn't guaranteed already."

"Is it?" I asked, "Guaranteed?"

Ashley shook her head, "Nothing in life is."

"True," I replied. "But on a scale of one to ten, how close to guaranteed is it?"

She mused a moment, rubbed her chin. "Mmm.. on a scale of one to ten?"

"Yeah," I said, "One being I'm more likely to catch a cold on the sun, ten being I might as well count myself fluffed already."

Ashley grinned wickedly, "Twelve."

I groaned with excitement. "Why do I gotta wait again?"

"Because you need to woo me."

"Let the woo-ing begin then, my dear." I waved the way to the door.

Ashley laughed, "So we're going somewhere?"

"Mmhm," I nodded.

She grinned, "Very fancy."

"Just one thing before we go."

"Yeah?"

I leaned close, looking right into Ashley's eyes, trying desperately to bring the memory to her mind. "I'm going to give you the best date ever."

Ashley's cheeks flushed and she stared up into my eyes.

If her heart was pounding as hard as mine, then we were practically a bass line, blending together in a symphony...

Chapter Five: Out of Order


Nick

The first thing that went wrong happened really, ridiculously quickly. We weren't even completely to the car when Ashley's shoe heel broke. She tripped on the stair going down to the driveway and I caught her just before she went down. She clutched my arm, her nails digging into my skin. She stared up at me. "Shit," she gasped.

"Sugar," I corrected. I righted her and bent down for the broken piece of her shoe. I held it up. "You might wanna rethink the shoes,"I joked.

Ashley sighed and kicked the half-shoe off and hobbled back up the stairs. I helped her in the door and watched as she carried her broken shoe up the stairs again, my eyes admittedly lingering a bit too long on her butt. It was a really nice butt. I couldn't wait until we got to Vegas to ravish her. I shook my head out of the dream cloud of what I was gonna do to her... I grinned and leaned against the door. A few minutes later, Ashley came back down the stairs in jeans and a t-shirt, the purple dress flung over her arm and a pair of flats in her hands. "What'cha doin'?"

"I changed. I can't wear these flats in the car. They make my ankles swell." She waved them.

While Ashley was getting ready (again), I mentally went over my plans for the day a couple more times. I was recreating the first date, with a happy ending this time. We were going for slushies at the 7-Eleven, and breakfast at IHOP, then driving like a bat out of hell to Vegas, with a gas stop along the way, where I'd go in and buy condoms and breath mints. But this time, when I came out of the little store, we'd turn left out of the lot, continue on route to Vegas, where a hotel reservation waited. We had a master suite and I was gonna bring that sparkling juice and those strawberries up to the room and feed them to her and kiss her and we were finally going to have sex without being interrupted by Zoey.

I paced, picturing the reaction she was gonna have. She was gonna love this. This was a romantic gesture to the Nth degree, and according to AJ it was the singlemost brilliant idea I'd had in my entire life. "It's guarunteed to get you laid like nobody's business," he'd said enthusiastically. "She's gonna ride you like you're a fucking rodeo."

I wiped my palms, sweaty at the thought of rodeo-wild sex with Ashley.

She appeared on the stairs then, a smile on her face, her pregnant glow like a ray of light shining off her face. She'd changed entirely. I stared up at her, struggling not to conceal my disappointment. "What happened to the purple dress? I like that dress," I said. It was crucial to the recreation being perfect.

"Those were the only shoes I own that match it," she replied. She'd put on a greenish dress with little flowers all over it and a belt that wrapped around her midriff right above her baby bump. It was a smokin' hot dress, don't get me wrong, but the purple was... well, it was a classic for us. It was like vintage Dogface. My face must've shown my disappointment. "Do I look terrible?" she asked, worry in her voice.

"No, no, you look really good," I answered.

"Then why do you look like someone just gutted Bambi in front of you?"

"I don't mean to," I answered.

Ashley gave me a look. "I can go put the purple one back on, but we'll need to stop to get shoes."

"No, no that's okay," I replied. We were already running later than I'd planned thanks to the whole shoe mishap. We were going to have less time fluffing in Vegas - or end up being late to pick Zoey up from AJ's that night, one or the other. I reached for her hand and guided her down the last couple steps. "You're perfect like you are."

Ashley laughed, "I'd be more perfect if baby here wasn't busting me out like a balloon."

"Baby can do whatever he wants," I replied.

"Or she," Ashley reminded me.

I rubbed my hand across her belly.

"So...are we going then?"

"Right! Right, yes, let's go." I guided Ashley out the door, and helped her into the car. It was breaking into a beautiful morning outside. I climbed into the driver's side and looked over at Ashley as she buckled her seat belt. Her hair hung loose around her face in soft red waves. I couldn't resist. I leaned over and slid my fingers into her hair, turning her to look up at me as her hands clicked the buckle together. "Oliver," I breathed.

"Oliver," she whispered back.

"You're fluffing beautiful," I added.

She blushed.

I turned back forward and turned the car on. "On to Valentine's Day," I announced, and we started backing out of the driveway, thinking that we'd do everything I'd planned... but really about to do about... I dunno, 5% of it.




Ashley

Nick's present was stabbing the underside of my boobs. I hate sexy underwire bras for this very reason. But I looked amazing - even with my big fat pregnant belly under there. Nick was gonna be blown away. As long as the damn wire didn't pop my boob, that is. I wriggled my shoulders awkwardly, trying to adjust the contraption without actually grabbing at it. I glanced over at Nick's profile as he drove, his eyes roving over the pavement before us. Tonight, when I took my dress off and stood in front of him in this fucking strappy lingerie from hell, he was gonna smile with a twinkle in his eyes that would make every moment of pain I went through right now completely worth it. I took a deep breath.

Well, as deep as the thing would allow me to take, anyways.

"So, where are we going anyways?" I asked.

"You'll see," he answered.

"Oh will I?"

"Mhm," he grinned.

"Not a ton of walking?" I asked. I rubbed my back against the seat, trying to shift the bra. It wasn't working.

"Nothin' too bad," he replied.

"I'm not sure how well my feet will do," I said.

"I'll carry you if you get too tired," he answered with a smirk.

I rolled my shoulders. God, I was gonna put this thing in a box somewhere in the depths of the closet and only pull it out on extremely special occasions, like Nick's birthday and anniversaries and stuff. Or maybe I'd just burn the crap out of it until it was nothing but cinders. Make it die. Before it makes me die.

I wanted to offer Nick to carry my boobs because they were tired.

He’d like that.

Probably more than the damn lingerie.

I was so distracted with trying to discreetly adjust my bra that I didn’t even notice where Nick had driven. When I looked up, I realized he was pulling into a gas station. I looked over at the fuel indicator. “Gas stop?”

“Something like that.” He parked, pushed open the door, and climbed out. He rushed ‘round the car and pulled open the door beside me. I laughed as he held out his hand and pulled me forth from the seat, smiling as I pressed into him. “The best time to have a slushie is on a date,” he said thickly.

My heart raced. I stared up into his eyes and suddenly I just knew what we were doing for the whole day. He was recreating one of the most romantic - and equally terrible - nights of my entire life. “I’ve heard that,” I breathed.

Nick grinned. “Well then… come with me, babe.” He wrapped his fingers between mine, squeezed them and led the way into the gas station doors.

It smelled like dirty windshield wiper fluid inside. The butch of a woman behind the counter looked up when the door dinged. Nick practically danced, dragging me along to the far wall where the machines and prepared foods were. “Aw shit,” he muttered.

I ducked around him to see a sign taped to the front of the icee machine. Out of Order, it said.

I rubbed his shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said.

Nick looked like a deflated balloon. “But it’s important. We had slushies.”

I took his other hand in mine so I was holding both of his hands. “The fact that we’re here at all is enough. You’re incredibly romantic.”

“But I wanted to recreate most of our first date,” he said.

I smiled, “I know.”

“And slushies are important to dates,” he added.

“You’re important to dates," I said, leaning in to kissing him. Nick kissed me back. I could feel the butch woman glowering at us. But I didn't care.

It was Valentine's day.

And also Nick's hands were on my back and he'd nudged my bra strap just right.

Heaven.

Chapter Six: yggeP


Ashley

Nick’s fingers stayed twined with me after we got back into the car. He drove, one hand on the wheel, down the street toward the IHOP where we’d eaten that night. “What made you think of doing this?” I asked him.

He shrugged, glancing at me as the car coasted to a stop at a red light. “It was one of the most important nights of my life,” he answered, “And if it’d gone right… if things hadn’t changed at the end… it would’ve been the most wonderful night of my life, too. And I just… I guess I wanted to… to kinda free the memory from the… the bad stuff that came with it.”

Poetic. God. When Nick wanted to be, he certainly could. He smiled shakily at me with those perfectly straight veneers of his, and I felt a little bit of a love shiver crawl up my spine.

“That’s why you wanted the purple dress,” I realized.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry the dress didn’t work out.”

“You’re sexy in this one,” he replied.

When we’d done this the first time, we’d parked in a garage back by the 7-Eleven and walked to IHOP, which I was willing to bet was our next stop. It’d been in the restaurant, over a basket of pancake puppies, that Nick had first proposed… "We'll get in the car, and we'll drive all night,” he’d said. I could still feel the sweat pooling in my palms as he said it, my eyes watching his lips moving, unable to comprehend that the words he was saying were real, were meant for me…."We'll run down the street and find the first chapel with an ordained Elvis and we'll do it. By morning, you'll be Ashley Carter."

It’d been a fantasy. It’d been real. It’d been everything. And just like that - with a yes that had brought on a shower of powdered sugar over the pancake pup at the hands of a confused waitress - we’d run back to the car in the rain, my dress had fluttered through the night air, the water had burst in puddles like tears falling from the sky. Maybe God crying ‘cos he knew how all of it would end, who knows? It was the coldest, most exhilarating rain in my memory. Nick’s fingers had twined through my fingers then, too, I thought, and I squeezed him, glad to feel his skin as I stared out the window at the pavement we’d run that night, remembering the sound of our feet clapping against it, remembering the way the world had seemed to spin and saturate itself in colours more vibrant than I’d ever seen before… tinted by passion.

I’d wanted to be Ashley Carter then.

And I was thankful as all hell to be Ashley Carter now.

I turned to look at Nick as the car came to a stop in the parking lot in front of the IHOP, the warm windows glowing. “Do you remember --”

“Yes,” he said.

“The running down the street? The way the water splashed?”

“Like it’s in slow motion,” he replied. He turned off the engine and turned to look back out the rear window at the road beyond. “I remember the neon lights. They were like fireworks in the puddles when we ran… in the splashes.” He licked his lips, then looked at me. “When you were with Chris… when I didn’t think I had a chance… I used to drive down this street because it was haunted with us. I thought that being with your ghost was better than not being with you at all.”

My throat burned at the thought of Nick driving down an empty street alone, dreaming of the same night that I’d spent that time dreaming about, too. How many things I would’ve done differently if only I’d known that night.

Nick helped me out of the car again and we walked into the doors of the shady restaurant. It had been shady then, too, sure, but it seemed to have gotten worse since. I tried to ignore the grime on the windows and the eerily empty bubble gum machines by the door. A couple early morning hangovers looked up from the bar stool seating, and a waitress in a coffee-stained apron glared up from the register, where she’d been absently spinning an unlit cigarette between her nicotine-yellow fingers, like she was counting down the moments before her next smoke break by the revolutions.

I looked up at Nick.

He cleared his throat.

A couple of the hangovers looked up. The waitress finished a couple more revolutions before sighing and sliding the cigarette over her ear and pulling a notepad out of the waistband of her pants and a pencil from her apron pouch, which she licked the tip of, and then came over. “Two?” she asked, her voice scratched and robotic.

“Please,” Nick replied.

We followed her to a booth in the corner where the sunlight came in through the shades and blinded us. The leather stuck to the back of my bare legs like double-stick tape, and my pregnant belly only just fit behind the table. Nick shuffled it closer to his side to make room for me as the waitress slapped down two dingy looking menus with doodles on the plastic coatings and entire meals white-outed on the actual pages. “Anything to drink?” she asked.

“Coffee?” Nick ventured slowly.

The waitress looked at me. “Orange juice,” I answered. She just turned and walked away without another word. I looked at Nick. “Jesus,” I whispered.

He laughed, “Was it this bad before?” His voice lilted with the laughter, but also with a note of disappointment.

“I was wondering that, too,” I said in a hushed whisper, “How rose-coloured were the glasses we were wearing that night?”

“Blush,” he whispered back, leaning closer over the table, “Like the champagne we drank at the party before we left.” His eyes sparkled.

I laughed, “Possibly.”

Nick leaned back and looked around. One of the hangovers were glancing our way. I could tell he was looking at the scar on Nick’s face - a feature of him that I barely even noticed anymore, something ugly turned beautiful in my eyes - trying to decide if Nick was really who he thought he was. If either of us were who he thought we were.

“Pancake puppies?” he asked, grinning.

“Of course,” I answered. “What else?”




Nick

So pancake puppies? No longer on the menu. At least not according to Waitress Ratchet and the Whiteout Marks of Death. Ashley looked profoundly disappointed, but Waitress Ratchet, who returned smelling of smoke twenty minutes after seating us, her name tag pinned on upside down, reading POHI OT EMOCLEW, SI EMAN YM, yggeP, ?ECIVRES FO EB I NAC WOH

We got a short stack with two sides of bacon to share... and a bowl of commemorative oatmeal for the table because she'd ordered oatmeal that night.

I looked over at her. "You know how scared I was?"

"As scared as I was?" she guessed.

I shook my head, "I doubt it. There's no way you felt anything even remotely close to the gut wrenching fear I felt that night. I'd waited a year to tell you that I loved you, waited in agony, watching you kiss Chris and love him and..." I shook my head, "Knowing this was my one shot, my one opportunity, and that blowing it meant losing you forever...?"

Ashley stared at me a long moment. "I was gonna wait and give you this later," she said. Then she reached into her dress, right into her bra, and pulled something out. Not her breast or anything - although, aside from the drunk zombie guy at the bar looking over that would've been cool with me - just a paper. She stared down at it for a long moment. "You wanna talk about being in love with someone a long time without being able to say it? To watch them love someone else? To know that blowing it meant losing them forever?" She held out her hand.

In her palm lay a crumpled, old Valentine. I remembered it. I remebered writing the little note, remembered picking it out of the box my mom had bought me for class, and choosing that one - that particular one - just for Ashley. I reached over and lifted it from her palm, an artifact of a hundred thousand years ago, a time when I loved her simply, without the complications of sex and boobs and testosterone and fame.

And I realized maybe I had been in love with Ashley the whole time... maybe, I'd never know, it was too far repressed... but Ashley definitely had. Enough to keep the first Valentine I'd ever given her. Where as I'd been calling this our first Valentine's Day all month.

"I win, Carter," she said thickly.

I nodded.

"You do," I agreed.

Ashley stared at the Valentine as I held it gently. "That night... when we were last here... I remember being so freaked out because every dream I'd had since I was a little girl - since you gave me this card - was about to come true."

I looked up at her. "Thank you for waiting for me. Kinda. Minus the whole Chris thing."

Ashley laughed. "Thank you for coming around."

"Thank aerodynamics and mechanical failures," I joked.

"Beautiful physics," she said, eyes twinkling.

"Gravity's a bitch, but she knows what she's doing."

And then yggeP was back with our order, sliding dishes on the table with foggy, spotty flatware and my mug of coffee had a little bit of a lipstick stain residue on the side and I stared down at the food as she walked away.

I looked up at Ashley, "Well, it wouldn't be the same as last time if we actually stayed to eat the food," I said.

Ashley laughed, "I was really hoping you weren't going to make me eat this."

We leaped up from the booth - well, no, Ashley kind of truffle shuffled out of the seat she was firmly lodged into thanks to Mystery Baby - and I guided her to the door. We didn't pay. Fuck it if it got in the news or whatever. Nick Carter stiffs $12 bill at IHOP. If they'd ever been to this location, they'd understand. I had the heebie jeebies.

"Next time we try to recreate a moment," Ashley shouted as we drove away, me making the brakes squealch for dramatic effect, "Let's visit a different IHOP."

"As you wish," I said, smirking.

"The good news," she said, "is that was the third thing to go wrong today. The rest should be smooth sailing."

I grinned, "Thank God. The best is yet to come."

Chapter Seven: Blow Out


Nick

And was it ever yet to come.

We drove out of Los Angeles right from the IHOP parking lot without another stop, the radio playing but neither of us listening to it. Instead, we reminisced. The Valentine had made a lot of stuff come to mind for both of us - just general stuff that we'd done together over the years of being a set, Nick and Dogface, like salt and pepper. We'd spent long afternoons held back at school for detentions that we never told either of our parents about, and we'd one so many firsts together, taken so many trips, seen so many monumental life moments from graduations to finding biological parents to world fame to the moon and back again. Because me and Dogface, we go way back.

"You ever wonder how it is you got stuck with my stupid ass?" I asked her, looking over as the car sailed along the interstate toward Vegas. "Like what'd you do in your prior lives to deserve to this?"

Ashley laughed, "Everyday, Nick, everyday."

I grinned.

And then all hell broke loose. The car swerved as the front tire blew out and we crisscrossed the mostly deserted road a couple times before finally scraping the guardrail, royally fucking up my paint job, and coming to a stop a couple feet later. Ashley was clutching her stomach with one hand, and the handle over the door with the other, her eyes wide, while both my hands were wrapped tight around the steering wheel. I'm pretty sure I left dents where my fingers had been.

"Fuck," I gasped.

Ashley looked over at me.

"Fuck," I muttered again.

She raised an eyebrow. "Fluff," I corrected myself.

We were both panting, gasping loudly. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my heart rate. Slowly, I loosened my grip on the steering wheel, peeling my fingers back like they were a banana skin. I turned to Ashley. "Are you okay?" I asked, getting my first fear out of the way.

She nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Baby okay?"

Ashley nodded again.

That settled, I moved on to the next issue. I zoomed the GPS out to see where the fuck we were. Ashley stared at the screen as I zoomed out further. We weren't in the middle of no where, but we were pretty damn close. We were sorta lucky, though, I guess, in a way, because the gas station - the historical gas station where Ashley had found out she was pregnant with Zoey - was only four miles from us. This is a small miracle because behind us was about three hours worth of sand and exit-less highway void.

Ashley stared at the GPS, then her eyes swiveled to look at me.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Lemme see if I can fix it," I replied, and I pushed the door open and stepped out onto the empty road. Ashley looked out at me with worry in her eyes.

"How are you gonna fix it?" she asked, nerves in her voice.

I shrugged, "I think there's a spare in the trunk, I dunno." I closed the door and walked around the nose of the car to see the damage on the front passanger wheel. Flatter than a 12 year old girl. Flatter than Ashley had been when she showed me her boobs the first time in the cement pipe we always sat in. I leaned against the guard rail that lined the road. The entire side of the car was all scratched up and looking like shit. I sighed and rubbed my hand across my face. "Jesus," I muttered.

Ashley pushed her door open and got out, slamming it shut, and sitting beside me. She looked at the car, then looked at the wheel. "Poor car," she muttered.

"I'm sorry," I said, because I wasn't sure what else to say. I started mentally calculating what all this was gonna do to fuck up our festivities. If we somehow managed to get moving again within the next hour, and drove straight to Vegas - another hour and a half from where we were, not counting traffic or stopping at the gas station for history's sake - we'd have only a couple hours before we had to head home to collect Zoey from AJ by the next morning at our agreed upon time.

And I'd have to have the tire changed somewhere while we were at the hotel, I thought.

"We could call Triple A," Ashley suggested. "They can change the tire."

Something prideful and mannish possessed me. I looked at her. I hated that she just assumed I couldn't change a tire myself. Of course I could change a tire myself, how the fuck hard could it be? I mean in the NASCAR stuff they switch tires out in like a second. I'm a man, men do things like change tires.

I got up and went to the trunk and pulled it open and dug around in all the shit I had back there - a basket ball, a blanket, random CDs here and there, a old stereo subwoofer I'd replaced forever ago, a bag of clothes I'd meant to bring to the Goodwill - and found the hatch that hid the donut tire and the tools to change it out. I yanked until I got the hit out of the guts of the car and dragged it over to the wheel that needed changing.

"You aren't seriously gonna do this?" Ashley asked.

"Course I am," I replied, "I'm a man. I can do things like this."

"In your suit?"

I hadn't really thought about the fact that I was wearing the suit. I mean, in an attempt to keep up the recreation, I'd dressed up in a suit as similar to the one I'd worn that night as I could find. That was probably going to make this a little harder, I had to admit, but hell if I wasn't gonna prove to her that I was manly and could do things like change tires. So, I loosed the necktie and gave it to her.

"Nick, just call Triple A."

"I can do this," I replied.

She sighed, "Okay fine, he-man." She moved and set herself on the guard rail a couple feet away so she wasn't in the working space, holding my tie in her lap, watching as I upended the foam thingy the donut tire rested in. There was a bunch of tools that I had no idea what they were for and I stood over the pieces laying on the cement, analyzing them. I wanted to know what I was doing when I started in on this project, wanted her to be impressed I knew what I was doing. I took a deep breath. Even though I didn't.

Well, I thought. Here goes nothing.




Ashley

Nick descended on the spattered tools with an air of faked confidence. He didn't want me to know he had never done this before. Like I didn't already know that. I knew everything there was to know about Nick and I happen to know for a fact that this was the first time anything like this had ever happened to him when he wasn't on a tour bus, where other people were responsible for fixing it.

I kind of wished I had popcorn.

It was his own fault. I'd offered him not once but twice an option to get out of looking like an idiot trying to do this. Offered him a perfectly manly excuse, like preservation of the suit he had on, that would've kept him from feeling like he was a total loser. Yet there he was, picking up the wrench and staring at the wheel. He reached for the hubcap and pulled it off with little trouble, and put it on the ground. Then he stared at the lugnuts underneath like they were foreign objects.

"You gotta jack the car up first," I said.

He looked up at me, "I know. I'm just... lookin'." He didn't know, but that's okay. He took the little jack thing and shoved it under the car. I leaned forward, trying to see that he had it placed right and wouldn't fuck up the car even worse. He looked over at me. "What?"

"Make sure it's on the frame," I said, "Or you'll crack the body."

"I know," he said again. He still didn't know. He felt under the car and moved the jack. His hand came back out from under all greasy and dirty, his finger tips blackened. He caught himself just before he swiped his palm across his pants, and squatted there all helplessly with his dirty hand, like he didn't know what to do now that his hand had dirt on it. I refrained from saying anything as he struggled to move back and get the wrench into the jack with his non-dirty hand.

While he worked on jacking the car up - which he kept knocking the jack over and cursing - I used the opportunity to adjust the bra strap from hell. Since he was distracted and all. I reached behind me, bending my elbows to pull down the back of my dress enough to get access to the bra, and tugged, trying to get it to stop riding up. My boobs hurt. They felt like they were being tortured by some 16th century device.

I wanted to get rid of the bra so bad. But it was gonna be worth it when Nick pulled it off. The look on his face was gonna be worth it, I told myself. That hungry, mouth-watery kind of look he'd get. And then he'd unsnap it and he'd lift it away and my boobs would feel sweet freedom and then he'd kiss them and rub them and...

"Success!"

I snapped out of my reverie to look down at Nick, who'd managed to get the car up on the jack right finally. He looked extremely proud of himself. Both hands were messy now, and his hair was getting a little limp in the front from sweat and stress. He looked insanely hot. Being all manly. Or psuedo manly at least. My mind was now on the idea of him massaging my breasts, my poor tired achey breasts that just needed a break from the prison they were in. So even though he was all sweaty from working on a car, I was picturing him sweaty from working on me.

I wanted to jump him.

"Now I gotta get the thingies off..." he pulled the wrench out of the slot on the jack and eyed the lugnuts. He didn't know what they were called. "First I gotta take this off." He stood up and shrugged off his jacket.

Mama mia.

I licked my lips as he tossed the jacket into the car, his body now glad in a cobalt blue button-down shirt and the black suitpants. He unbuttoned the wrist of the shirt and rolled the sleeves up, revealing his sexy forearms.

Hormones. So. Many. Hormones.

He crouched again and affixed the wrench to the first lugnut and started trying to move it. My voice shook, "You're screwing it the wrong way."

Nick looked up. "What?"

"Counter clockwise," I said thickly. My voice was coming out all husky and heavy, like I was saying dirty somethings in his ear at night or something, instead of giving him instructions on how to change a car tire.

Nick pulled the wrench, but nothing happened, so he made a face and pulled harder and his cheeks turned red with the strain of pulling the wrench and still nothing happened. He stood up and put his foot on the wrench and pushed down. The nut loosened and he tripped into the car, slamming stomach-first onto the passanger door.

"Shit, are you okay?" I asked, standing up, worried.

"Yeah. Ow. God damn." Nick backed away from the car.

"Maybe we should just call Triple A," I suggested again, holding out my hands like I was trying to steady him. Mommy's instincts, I guess. He shook his head. "Nick, please, before you get hurt."

"I ain't gettin' hurt, I can do this," he whined.

"If you get hurt, you won't be able to fluff me later and -- and Nick, I - really wanna be fluffed," I stared up at him with watery eyes.

"And I really wanna fluff you," he answered, "But first I wanna change the tire."

I sighed as he gently put his hands on my sides and moved me out of his way. I watched as he attacked the next three lugnuts and struggled to dismount the tire, getting grease and dirt all up his forearms and when he swiped sweat from his brow he smeared some on his face. My loins stirred like a meterologically cataclysmic storm, hovering on the edge of horny. My boobs cried for mercy.

The underwire was severing them off, I was willing to bet.

It took him awhile, but finally Nick had fitted the donut tire onto the mount. I'm not gonna lie, I was impressed that, despite the fact he had absolutely no vehicular skills whatsoever, he had managed to fake his way through getting the tire on the car. Well. Almost anyways.

"Where the fuck is the four thingies?" he demanded, looking around for the lugnuts. They were MIA. I looked around, but I couldn't see them anywhere. "What the hell it's not like it's got feet and couldda run away," he muttered, scrambling. He dropped to his knees, his pants scraping on the tar, getting dirtier and dirtier the more he panicked. His shirt had come untucked somehow and as he leaned down to stare under the car, his asscrack peeked out of the waistband.

I stared at the little patch of skin there.

I've never been so turned on by his damn asscrack showing.

"Nick," I whined.

He looked up.

"I wish you'd just... fuck me, right here, right now, on the side of the road."

Nick blinked in surprise.

"Fuck me, please," I begged.

Nick looked up and down the road, then up at the sky, like he expected there to be choppers up there, snapping pictures of us standing on the side of the Mojave Highway as I begged for sex. "Fuck me hard and fast and rub my boobs, please rub my boobs." I grabbed his hands as he stood up and put them on my chest.

"Ashley, do you got like heatstroke or something?" he asked, staring at me with concern.

"No," I said, "I just want you. I want you so bad. And I -- I want out of this bra."

He laughed.

He wasn't taking me seriously.

"I mean it, I want this bra off my body," I said, tears in my eyes.

He leaned in, his mouth pressing against mine, and his hands slid up my back. I had a feeling I now had car grease all over my back, but I didn't give a shit. I pressed myself closer to him. "Yes," I whispered, our lips overing over one another breathing eachother's breath, as his expert fingers played with the hooks on the bra. "Yes, oh my God, yes." Any moment now... he'd unsnap them and my boobs would taste sweet freedom.

He snickered against my mouth as his fingers dropped away without unhooking me. "We can't have sex in the middle of the road," he said lowly.

"Yes we can," I said, a desperate tone in my voice, "We can. Zoey's not here. We can fluff like wild animals."

Nick laughed again.

"I can't stand another minute, Nick, please," I whispered. But he only continued chuckling lowly. "Please," I begged. "My boobs have been trapped in this God forsaken bra all day and they can't take it anymore. They. Want. You. Please. Rub them."

"In an hour and a half," he said thickly, "We will be at the hotel in Las Vegas, and I will not only rub them... I will kiss them and lick them and suck on them. But until then, I gotta get this tire fixed and that will require finding the thingy," he said thickly.

I ran my hand down the length of him until my palm cupped his crotch. "I found the thingy."

Nick groaned as I palmed him through his pants gently.

"Babe," he whispered after a couple moments of my hand working on him, "I gotta do this. For real."

I pouted as he pulled away, leaving me standing there all hot and bothered and desperate and started looking for the lugnut again.

I wondered if anyone had ever died from sexual desire.

Chapter Eight: Carry On


Ashley

Yep, pretty sure death by sexual desire's a real thing.

He was just so damn sexy doing man things, like real man things not dancing on a stage and stuff, that I couldn't get my brain out of the gutter it was rooted in. I needed him. I wanted him to throw me down right there in the Mojave desert sands and we'd make sexy sand-angels with our writhing, passion filled bodies...

I was so regretting telling him to woo me that morning. By woo me, I'd really meant carry me downstairs, put on the Sleepless in Seattle DVD, and make out with me for the 90 minutes it's playing, then we're good, not bring me on a four hour road trip to sin city and subsequently get us stranded on the desert road while you look for your nuts.

Haha. Nick couldn't find his nuts. I couldn't help but giggle.

I sat down in the front seat of the car, watched him, rubbed my stomach and tried like hell not to think about sex.

It wasn't possible.

"The nut things gotta be here somewhere," he said. He'd climbed over the guardrail and was kicking dirt around, inspecting the ground. Dust covered his shoes and ankles, his knees scraped up and dirty from kneeling on the tar, shirt clinging to his sweaty chest, hair all droopy. Somewhere along the line, my rational side knew he'd crossed the line between sexily dressed and a hot mess, but he still looked like prime sexual fodder to me.

A car went by, slowed down only marginally as it passed us, swerving toward the other side of the road to give us a wide berth, then sailed on down the freeway. I squinted off into the distance. Nick sighed. He looked up, hands on his hips and followed my gaze. "It's only like four miles," he said. He looked back at me.

I looked at him.

"That's walkable," he commented.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Think that gas station has an extra nut thingy laying around I could buy?" he asked.

"I don't know, I can't walk it, though," I replied. I looked around the car. "And you can't just leave me here," I added. "Nick, just call Triple A."

He sighed, "You're right."

Thank God. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped his thumb over the screen. I leaned into the seat and closed my eyes. I was exhausted. But I wanted to be more exhausted. My mind wandered over the idea of him suddenly throwing the phone off into the sand, rushing me, and ravishing me in the backseat. I'd put my legs up on the headrests and we'd --

"Fuck."

I opened my eyes.

Nick looked up, fully disgruntled. "There's no reception."

"There's reception everywhere," I answered.

"Not here," he replied.

"Bullshit," I answered. I struggled to get up and went over and looked down at his phone. He was right. I looked around. "We aren't that far from civilization, why the hell is there no reception?" I asked.

"I don't know," Nick groaned. He paced, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "God damn it."

He was frustrated. Frustrated by his plans not working like he wanted them to, despite how hard he was trying. And he was trying really hard. I could see it in his eyes, in the way his forehead crinkled.

"I'll have to carry you," he said, turning to face me.

I laughed. "Carry me?"

"Yes. Carry you. Only until we can get reception."

"Nick, don't be silly, four miles is long enough without carrying a fat, pregnant woma--aah!" I didn't finish the sentence because instead of waiting for the words to come out of my mouth, he'd tromped over and lifted me right up out of the car. I kicked my feet, "Oh my God. Put me down you, mad man."

To be honest, it did scare me a little bit. Last time I'd been picked up like this, it'd been by Chris on the stairs at my old apartment, when I was having contractions, about to have Zoey. I'd been scared to death that day, but now Nick had me in a slightly better position - like he was a fireman, carrying a damsel in distress from furious flames or something. His strong arms hooked under my knees and across my back.

I wrapped my arm around his neck.

I could smell him, feel his muscles flexing against me. And his breath, hot on my breast at the neckline of my dress.

Oh God.




Nick

Ashley's breathing was heavy as I carried her down the highway. Her hands were laced behind my neck and she stared up at me, her eyes wide with suprise and something else, something... I wasn't sure what it was, though. I held her close to my chest, protecting her from the world. Not that there was anything out there in the middle of the desert to protect her from. Except maybe my luck.

We were both quiet as I walked. I dunno what her excuse was, but I was struggling with where I'd gone wrong in the planning of the perfect Valentine's Day. I'd wanted this to be the most romantic day of her life, I'd wanted to change bad memories, make them into good ones, and all that was happening was this burning wreckage of horribleness. It seemed like everything that could possibly go wrong had gone wrong, and I had little to no hope that would change before the end of the night.

After all, it was official now that by the time we got to the gas station, back to the car to add the nuts to the tire, got the tire fixed, and drove on to Vegas, we were gonna be there, have a quickie, and move like bats outta hell back to LA to pick up Zoey.

"I'm sorry," I said through thick breaths. Ashley was rapidly becoming quite heavy. I couldn't yet see the gas station in the distance, even when I squinted against the sunlight. It felt like an endless road, through endless sands, like we'd been transplanted to another planet without either of us noticing.

"Sorry?" she asked, "For what?" She had her head against my shoulder.

"Lettin' you down."

"You aren't letting me down," she answered.

I took a deep breath, "I feel like I am."

She put her hand on my cheek, "You really aren't." I could almost believe her when I looked into her eyes.

Almost.

About thirty minutes of walking carrying her and my arms felt numb, so I lowered her down and we sat ourselves on a large rock off the side of the roadway. From where we sat, we couldn't quite see the car, but you could almost make out what looked like signs announcing the exit the gas station was off of ahead. I closed my eyes and felt the slowly sinking sun on the side of my face, and I knew we had to get moving again soon or we were gonna be walking through the dark in the middle of the desert, and God knows what was out in the middle of the night in a desert, but I wasn't too keen on learning either.

Ashley got up and was standing a couple feet away, staring off, squinting at the dot that was the possibility of the gas station. "Would you have done it that night? Married me?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

She licked her lips. "Do you think things would be different? Between us, I mean, if we'd done it that night? If we hadn't been through everything with Chris?"

I shrugged. "Maybe not exactly the same, but... I mean. I dunno."

She came over and stood in front of me. "I can walk awhile," she suggested. "I mean I'm two people right now, I must be heavy." She smiled.

I took a deep breath and stood up, too, and we walked along a ways, our hands swinging, tangled up between us. "There must be something about me and Vegas and being pregnant," she joked as we walked along.

I laughed. "At least you knew it before we got here this time."

Ashley laughed. "Have you thought of any names you like this time?" she asked.

"I dunno," I answered, "I kinda like the name Brandon."

"Brandon's a good name. What about Heather?"

"That's good too. How about Lawrence?"

"Jessica."

"Jacob."

"I'm seeing a pattern," she laughed.

"I just really want a boy this time," I admitted. "I need someone to pass along all my wisdom to." I wiggled my eyebrows.

Ashley laughed, "All your wisdom, hm?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Like how not to get to Vegas?" she teased, elbowing me gently.

I laughed. "Apparently. That and the fact that if you suppress your feelings long enough, eventually the universe throws you to the ground from a thousand feet. Whatever it takes to make you open your damn eyes."

"Maybe we'll teach him - or her - how to have feelings without getting in a plan crash," Ashley suggested.

"I like that idea too."

She was slowing down. I turned to her and swept her up into my arms again. She let out a squeal as I lifted her up.

Chapter Nine: Bonnie and Clyde


Nick

It took a little better than an hour and a half to get to the gas station, taking intermittent breaks and Ashley walking a little bit of the time. Mostly I carried her, though, like I'd promised back at the house that morning before we'd left. And we made it only just in time, too; we were walking across the parking lot toward the convenience shop doors just as the last rays of sun were slipping below the horizon line.

The station looked every bit the same as it had last time we'd been there. A last-chance type of place, with neon runner lights in the window, way-too-high prices, and the short Indian man behind the counter. I walked up. "Hey," I said. I wondered if it was the same guy. "We had a blow out about four miles back south and I've seemed to have misplaced my nuts."

Ashley giggled.

I glanced at her. The fact that she'd giggle at that sentence was one of the many reasons I loved her so damn much. She was just as dirty-minded as me. Then looked back up to the attendant. "Do you have any car parts by chance?"

"Aisle two."

I turned around, following the careless wave he'd administered, and dodged around a display of chips. Ashley followed me. There was a small section of tiny car parts and tools laying on shelves below. Right next to the pregnancy tests. Ashley stared at the shelf. She'd taken one of those last time she'd been here.

I looked through the various objects and managed to come up with four nuts for the car tire. I turned to Ashley, "Do you wanna stay here while I walk back?"

"You're gonna walk back in the dark?" she demanded, "You can't walk back in the dark."

I snagged a flashlight from the shelf and held it up.

“That does not count as un-dark,” Ashley said.

"Well what else am I gonna do? We can't stay here all night," I pointed out.

Ashley looked at me with big, nervous eyes.

"I'll be fine."

"You'll get eaten by wild... wild... ostrich."

I snorted. "Ostrich? Babe, I don't think there's ostriches in the Mojave," I said, "But I appreciate the concern."

“What about Zoey?”

“What about her?”

“She needs a father.”

“Relax. She’ll have a father, even after the wild ostrich is done with me.”

"We could call a cab."

"I don't think there are cabs out here, anymore than there are ostriches," I laughed. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I'll be faster this time. I don't gotta carry nobody this time." I winked at her as I pulled away.

She looked around, then leaned closer and whispered, "We could shag in the bathroom before you go." She bit her lip. “Just in case the ostriches do get you. Then you got laid one last time… and… and I can get out of this mother-fluffin’ bra…” She gave me big ol’ doe eyes.

As tempting as it was to be like hell yes (I mean, what guy doesn’t want a quickie in the restroom with a super, super sexy lady?), I shook my head and just laughed, "Down girl."

"Jesus, Nick, when did you become the one that was capable of waiting for sex in this relationship?" she asked.

"I dunno," I replied. "The irony is that I'm the one that was willing to throw the plans out the window this morning if you hadn't insisted on being wooed."

Ashley shook her head, "I'm so stupid, I should've just spread 'em this morning."

I smirked. "Next time you'll know better." I kissed her forehead. "I'll be back."

Her voice squeaked, "Don't get eaten by the wild ---- whatever is out there!"

"I'll do my best," I answered, and I took the bag with the nuts and flashlight and headed out the door, back to the car.

I never would've admitted it to Ashley, but I really wasn't looking forward to going off hiking through the Mojave in the dark. And she was right, the flashlight really didn’t count as undarkness. Maybe there was wild ostrich out there, I had no idea where ostriches were from naturally, although I had a feeling it wasn’t anywhere in the US. Maybe Africa or Australia. But there was something wild in the Mojave, I was sure of that, and I could only hope that I didn't meet it on the way back to the car.

The only thing keeping me strong was the promise that Ashley had on a really uncomfortable bra... and in my past experience the less comfortable a bra was, the sexier she looked in it. And shit was she horny. If we could just get to Vegas, I was gonna get myself laid so hard.




Ashley

I watched Nick walk away, fading into the darkness, from the door of the convenience store until I couldn’t see him anymore. The flashlight had bobbled in the dark for quite some time over the rack of Pepperidge Farm cookies in front of the window, but finally he’d disappeared completely from view. I sighed and turned away, counting minutes in my mind, waiting until the moment the car pulled into the lot with it’s stupid donut wheel.

I wandered around the store. I could feel the little Indian guy’s eyes on me as I looked around. In my mind, I fancied he was thinking Nick and I were some kind of modern-day Bonnie and Clyde, like we were about to cause a world class shoot-out in his gas station, blowing bullet holes through the dairy coolers or like I was gonna hold him up and rush out the door into the sleek 1950s getaway car, manned by Nick in a low-slung fedora.

The way I moved around the store was in no way designed to reassure him that we weren’t. It was kind of exciting imagining that he thought I was something like Bonnie. I let my fingers linger over product shelves as I moved, humming as I walked through the teeny-tiny boring aisles, waiting for Nick to get his ass back. The fantasy at least kept me from thinking about Nick incessantly.

Then I came to the medicine aisle, where a row of condoms and pregnancy tests sat on one of the shelves. I lingered by these for an especially long time, smiling at the generic brand packaging of the pregnancy test I’d used that fateful night. I lifted it up and stared down at the information on the back of the box. I took a deep breath, remembering the panic that had seemed to slither through me like iced snakes in my veins that night. Every dream I’d ever had, leaving with the appearance of a plus sign on a stick coated in urine.

I looked up and saw the door of the bathroom I’d used to hide in during my discovery. I put the test box back on the shelf and quickly walked to the bathroom, realizing that like last time, when I’d sought refuge in the bathroom, I could seek refuge in there again. Not from panic that I might be pregnant this time (I was already quite aware that I was very, very pregnant this time), but from the bra of death.

I closed the door behind me and locked it and struggled to reach the zipper on the back of my dress. It was like trying to dance a mamba. I wiggled to the left, then to the right, then hopped backwards and forwards and leaned against the wall, arching my back. I finally managed to get the dress unzipped enough I could reach the strap of the bra. My fingers scrappled across the skin of my back, trying desperately to catch hold of the strap on my bra. Finally, they hooked it - just barely. I pulled, trying to make it so I could reach the snaps.

If only my arms were like an inch longer.

If only Nick hadn’t been a jackass earlier and had just unsnapped it.

I rolled the front of the dress down like I was a damn banana being peeled and fought with the bra to turn it to the front so I could reach the snaps. It was like liberation day. I could breathe. I chucked the bra to the floor, taking deeper breaths than I’d been able to achieve all afternoon. I leaned against the wall and sighed, closing my eyes, enjoying the feeling of sweet, luscious freedom.

I didn’t realize how long I’d been in the bathroom until there was a knock on the door. “You okay in there?” came a thickly accented voice. “You not die, right?”

“No I’m okay,” I called back.

“You need come out now,” he called. And walked away.

Damn.

I looked at the bra, and then at myself in the mirror. My boobs literally had dent-marks on them from the underwires. I shuddered at the thought of putting that thing back on. I picked the bra up and shoved it into my purse, then rolled the front of my dress back up and struggled to push the zipper. I stared at the reflection of myself. My breasts didn’t look too bad without the bra, right? Well, they flooped a little - that’s what happens when you have a baby, though, and plus they were heavy from Baby 2.0’s effects on my body - and I wasn’t sure if it was just in my head or not but I thought maybe you could see my nipples through the fabric.

Ehh fuck it, Nick probably wouldn’t even notice the mood he’d been in all day.

I fluffed my hair and zipped my bra-stuffed purse, and creeped out the door… back to my Bonnie and Clyde game, I thought to myself with a smirk as I moved through the aisles of the convenience store.

Chapter Nine (and a half): Beware of Wild Ostrich


Nick

The highway was dark, and with the exception of two or three cars that passed me by as I walked my way back to the car, it was pretty much empty, too. I walked along, my shoes clopping on the cement, looking around in the dark at the shapes of rocks and stuff and wondering what lurked behind them, certain at any moment the wild ostriches were going to come out and peck my eyes out. I clutched the flashlight harder, a lump rising in my throat. If something did jump out of the dark and try to peck me or maul me to death, nobody would even notice until hours and hours later when Ashley finally said something to the shopkeeper. And she'd be all stranded there at the gas station and then AJ and Rochelle would be pissed off 'cos we weren't there first thing in the morning to pick Zoey up so they could go have their Valentine's Day, which, I thought jealously, would probably go perfectly smoothly for them.

Fucking bastards.

Then I heard something - behind me, and I whipped around so fast I almost fell over and I tripped backwards, only just catching my balance before going down, the flashlight waving wildly. There was a lizard on the road. "Jesus," I said, scrambling backward. I turned 'round again and started running, the flashlight bobbling ahead of me.

Ashley was right. I was gonna get eaten by God-knows-what. Or abducted by aliens. Or by some crazy person that would drive by, see me, then haul me out to the middle of no where - like three feet off the road or something - and bury me alive. I was gonna end up in a shallow grave with the vultures eating my carcass. My beautiful, sexy carcass! And I hadn't even accepted a quick, commemorative last shag in the bathroom before leaving! I was so stupid.

I've never run as fast as I did that night.

When I reached the car, my hands hook as I knelt beside it, the flashlight gripped between my teeth, as I pulled the nuts out of the bag carefully affixing them with the wrench, my head swiveling in panic as I looked about left to right to make sure nothing was sneaking up on me. I kept expecting the flashlight's beams to pick up on eyes glowing hungrily in the darkness as something skulked up behind me.

Please God, just let me get out of this alive, I prayed as my hands flew with the wrench, Just let me make it back to the gas station to fuck my wife.

I bet God rarely hears requests like that.

Or maybe he hears them all the time. Who knows.

I can't be the only guy on the planet praying to fuck a hot woman, right?

When the nuts were finally on there securely, I muttered a hushed thank you and leaped to my feet, shoved the busted tire and all the tools into the back and ran 'round to the driver's side door and climbed into the car, pulling the door closed behind me and smacking the lock down. I let out a breath of relief and leaned back into the cushioned seat.

Then, because I felt like I'd conquered something (though I'm not entirely sure what exactly), I unrolled my window and I yelled out, "Fuck you ostriches! You can't eat me!" and rolled the window back up, laughing with giddy relief.

Chapter Ten: History Repeats Itself


Ashley

Even my Bonnie and Clyde fantasy had grown old before long and I ended up sitting on the curb in front of the gas station, leaning against the ice machine, nibbling on a bag of potato chips I'd bought inside. My stomach was thinking about turning. Morning sickness turned middle-of-the-night sickness was pending. I always got sick in the middle of the night thanks to baby.

When Nick finally turned into the lot, I stood up, sending chip crumbs cascading down the front of me. I clutched my bag of Lays as Nick coasted up in front of me, the car leaning slightly to the corner with the donut.

He got out. "I didn't see a single wild ostrich," he announced. I threw myself at him, glad to see he'd made it. I'd managed to suppress how truly worried I'd been. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I'd pictured him out there in the dark, all brave like a courageous warrior of olde, just him and the torchlight, strutting down the road, not afraid of anything. A real he-man. The thought of it was intoxicatingly hot.

But then again, we already know my hormones were racing at the speed of light so pretty much imagining Nick doing anything was intoxicatingly hot.

He hugged me close, his hands sliding down the length of my back as my breasts pressed into his chest. "Hmm," he muttered, as he leaned into me to kiss my mouth, "What happened?" He raised his eyebrows, a dirty grin crawling across his face.

I knew he'd felt my bra-less state.

"I couldn't take it anymore," I whispered.

He laughed.

"I went in the bathroom - the one where Zoey was first suspected. And I had to dance to get it off." I reached for my purse, unzipped it, and held the bra up for him. I laid it in his hand, and grinned up at him.

He swallowed as the lacey, padded bra hung over his palm.

"It looked better on," I commented.

"I'm sure," he croaked.

"So... how's your nuts?" I asked, grinning.

Nick grinned and snickered. "You're dirty."

"I'm talking about the damn car, perv," I teased him, winking. I turned and looked at the sad little donut wheel on the car. "Well," I said, "I guess that's the end of our little trip to Vegas, huh?" I said with a sigh.

Nick looked at me in surprise, "Why?"

"Nick, seriously? You wanna keep going with this trip from hell?"

"Well part of the plan was to make it all the way to Vegas this time," he said in a whiney little voice.

I took a deep breath, "Yeah... change history and all that..." I said. I licked my lips. "But Nick, I kinda just wanna go home."

"You do know you're giving me horrible flashbacks, right?"

I laughed.

"Okay. We'll go home. We'll let history repeat itself." He jumped down off the curb and opened the passenger side door to the car and waved his arm, a real gentleman.

I walked over and pressed myself against him as I climbed in, even though that was entirely unneccessary. I stared up into his eyes. "Well," I said, "I mean, it won't entirely repeat..." I gave him my very best impression of Marilyn Monroe eyes. "I mean," I said huskily, "If I recall correctly, last time did not end with fluffing."

Nick groaned as I slid into the seat.

"Will ya put this back on?" he asked, holding out my bra.

I laughed. "Maybe. If you're good for the whole ride home."

"I'll be good," he said in a hurried voice, like a little kid.

He closed the door, then rushed around the car. He pulled open the driver's side door and climbed in. Starting the car, he looked back to reverse. Then he stopped. "Wait. I forgot something important." He parked again. "Be right back." And he leaped out of the car and ran into the store.

A few minutes later - and a couple of Bonnie and Clyde panic attacks from the poor guy behind the counter, I'm sure - Nick came back out carrying a small bag. He climbed in and handed it to me.

"I got condoms. And breathmints." He grinned.

"Take me home!" I shouted.

But this time when I shouted it, Nick laughed, and I meant home.

One day, we'd make it to Vegas. But that day was not today. Today I just hoped we made it to the house without anything else happening.




Nick

"Remember that thing about fluffing on the side of the road?" I asked.

"You passed that opportunity by," Ashley answered with an evil cackle. "Next time, think twice before you say no."

"Damn."

The ride home seemed unending. The road just stretched on and on and on and on. It'd been a long day. Every muscle in my body was achey from all the walking and carrying and disappointments and troubles we'd been through. I gripped the wheel and stared ahead into the dark that stretched away ahead of us.

"I'm so bloody exhausted," I muttered after passing a sign declaring we were only fifty miles from Los Angeles.

"Too tired for our festivities?" she asked, glancing over.

"I'm never too tired for that," I answered.

Ashley snickered.

"I could be on my death bed, breathing my last words, and I wouldn't be too tired for that," I said.

"At least you'd be on a bed," she commented.

We pulled up to the house. It was almost midnight. The car came to a stop and I cut the engine and drew a deep breath. Despite the disappointment of not making it all the way to Vegas - again - it felt good to be home. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headrest.

"Don't fall asleep now, sir," Ashley said. I shook myself awake and looked over at her. She was holding up the bra in a tantalizing manner. "I'm gonna go put this on. Count to two hundred and come upstairs." She winked and pushed the car door opened. I watched as she walked up to the front door, carrying her flats in her hands. She lingered at the door frame and slipped through the door in a seductive manner.

Sweet heavens to Mergatroid.

I climbed out of the car eagerly, my brain racing through numbers like it was the Matrix, and I started to run across the lawn. Then I remembered the strawberries and sparkley juice, and I ran back to the car and opened the trunk. The chocolate from the strawberries had melted and given them a sort of deformed look. But other than that everything looked okay. So I scooped them all up and rushed inside, sure my count to two hundred would've been accomplished by now, had I actually been doing that.

When I got upstairs, Ashley was kneeling on the bed in this skimpy black lingerie set that really made the creaminess of her skin stand out. She had fluffed up her hair so it was really pretty and poofy and sexy and her eyes were relined with dark goopy stuff that made them bright and pretty and perfect. I stood there in the door holding the bottle of sparkley juice by it's neck, the two plastic champagne glasses, and a tupperware full of melted strawberries. I felt like a Valentine failure with an offering for the goddess Venus.

"Wow," I said.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she said.

I inched closer. "Happy Valentine's."

I held out the strawberries.

Ashley smiled and reached for one. She lifted it up and brought it to her mouth slowly, wrapping her lips around it and sucking on the chocolate.

"Sweet Lord alive," I whispered.

Ashley lowered the strawberry and looked at it. "What the hell happened to these?" she asked, laughing.

"They've been in the car," I replied. I climbed onto the bed and knelt in front of her.

Ashley grinned and put the strawberry in my mouth, then started unbuttoning my dirty blue shirt, pusing it away from my chest softly, her hands pressing against me. I couldn't hardly breathe. She felt so good. I leaned in to kiss her, but she lifted a strawberry up between our mouths so I ended up kissing chocolate and sweetness and she grinned at me from the other side of it, her eyes all smouldering.

I ran my hands up her sides and across the lacey front of her bra. She hummed against the berry. I could feel it vibrating against my mouth from the soundwaves travelling through it. I reached around to the back and unhooked it, sliding it off her. She moaned again into the strawberry and I stiffened down below as my hands gently moved their way around front to massage her breasts, and she pushed the strawberry into my mouth and my teeth sank into the sweetness and juices.

"A little fake champagne?" I asked, and lowered my hands to pour the juice into the two plastic glasses I was still holding.

Ashley put down the tupperware of strawberries and took her glass from me, our arms doing that cheesy criss-crossy thing where she pours my juice into my mouth while I pour hers into her mouth. Somehow it seemed less cheesy while we were doing it, however bad it might look in restaurants when couples do it.

Ashley was midway through the juice when she closed her eyes and made a face.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied.

"You sure?"

"Yes," she answered. And she lowered the glass, putting it on the night stand, then leaned in to kiss me. She tipped me backwards onto the bed and my arms snaked around her as we rolled so I was on top and I laced my fingers through hers, my mouth on her neck, traveling downward, across her collar bone to the plane of her chest, to her boobs... and just before my mouth hit it's target, Ashley groaned, "Oh God, hold that thought." And she rolled away, leaping from the bed, and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Even through the closed door, I could hear her throwing up.

I looked at the clock. Morning sickness. Right on schedule.

If it wasn't one baby... it was the other.

Chapter Eleven - The Perfect Valentine


Nick

I woke up to the feeling of a little hand smooshing into my face. I blinked my eyes open slowly, battling the sunlight streaming in through the bay window that overlooked the ocean outback. And then the squishy little hand came down on my cheeks again, smooshing my lips and my cheek and my nose. Followed by a giggle.

My eyes struggled to focus until they settled on Zoey.

"Hey baby girl," I whispered. I reached up and caught her hand before she could shove two fingers up my nostrils. "Hey baby, baby girl." I scooped her to my chest and she squealed, laughing excitedly.

It was almost a full minute of this before I realized that when I'd fallen asleep Zoey had not been there. I looked over. Ashley was alseep in the bed, wearing pajamas that covered every inch of her, the blankets wrapped around her, her hair a mess. I looked at Zoey. "Shh," I whispered, "Mummy's sleepin'." I wrapped my arms around Zoey and carefully rolled off the bed with her. She giggled and waved her arms as I got up and carried her downstairs after a quick stop by her room to get Pink Giraffe.

In the kitchen, I set Zoey down in her chair and poured some dry Cheerios on her tray, then I shrugged on the dirty, wrinkled blue shirt from the day before over my boxer shorts and sat down on one of the stools by the counter beside Zoey. "Ugh," I groaned, leaning my head down on the counter top. My arms ached and my legs hurt and my eyes felt heavy. The only part of me that hadn't gotten a work out at all had been my ---

"Nick?"

"Kitchen," I called.

Ashley appeared in the doorway, holding closed a bathrobe. She stare at me and Zoey. "Hey," she said tentatively.

"Hey," I answered.

She stepped in slowly. "I'm sorry about last night," she said quietly.

"Don't be sorry, I'm sure you didn't choose to spend half the night puking," I answered.

"Of course not, it was sex night." Ashley pouted.

"Or fall asleep night." I looked at Zoey. "How did our little princess get home anyways?" I asked, "Or was it like those really loyal dogs like in Homeward Bound, and she just came walking up out of the woods to some dramatic musical score?"

"That."

I laughed.

"AJ and Rochelle dropped her off when we weren't there on time," Ashley said. "I just brought her to bed because I was exhausted and every time I tried to leave her in her crib she started feaking out."

I smirked at Zoey. "Always gotta be the center of attention, huh? Even on Valentine's Day?"




Ashley

I could see it in Nick's eyes that he was disappointed, however much he smiled. He sighed as he sat there in his battered shirt, the neck undone and hanging limply against his chest. He had his chin in his hand as he sat all forlornly at the breakfast bar. Zoey whimpered from her seat, waving her arms at him, throwing pink giraffe at him, trying whatever tricks she could to get Daddy to look at her. It wasn't usual for him to be able to resist looking at her. Which was a serious gauge of how upset he was.

"It's okay, Nick," I said, pulling two plates out of the cupboard. "There's lots of Valentine's Days to celebrate. We can go out next week. It's not a big deal."

"Yeah-huh, it is," he argued. "Today is Valentine's Day. Not next week." He pouted up at me. "Babe, I ain't never really celebrated today right, you know? I've always half-assed it, or avoided it altogether. And this is the first time I really -- really -- wanted it to be perfect and I just -- it's ruined." He frowned severely.

"It's not ruined," I said.

I reached into the cupboard and pulled out a box of pancake mix. When I turned around, Nick had leaned back so his head hung back and his neck curled up like a reverse swan. I put the stuff on the counter. "We can do this old school, home style," I suggested. "Movies and dinner. Maybe light some candles."

"I just had so many plans," he mumbled.

"I had plans, too," I said.

"And the sex," he added, looking up, "We were gonna have sex without getting interrupted." He glanced at Zoey, then back at me. "So. Much. Sex."

"I wore a bra that was like a torture device, specifically for the sex," I pointed out. I pulled a pan out of the dishwasher and tossed some butter on it, setting it on the stove to heat up for the pancakes. Then I turned and leaned against the bar across from him. "We'll make it work," I said.

"I wanted to do you in the jacuzzi at the hotel," he confessed.

"There was a jacuzzi?"

"In the room," he answered, nodding. "But I'd rather think of it as a love tub."

I laughed. "You're dirty."

"Which is why we needed the tub. Think about them water jets... hittin' all... the right... places."

"So fluffin' dirty," I whispered.

"I had a whole list of places I wanted to do you," he whispered, "I was stupid not to take you up on the roadside sex."

With that, I leaned across to kiss him and just as our lips were about to meet, just before our skins touched and the kiss made itself solid and real and the magic moment occurred...

"Oliver."

I pulled back in surprise. Nick did, too. We both turned to look at Zoey.

Zoey giggle-cooed, pleased because with one action she'd managed to get both our attentions turned to her.

Nick looked at me. "Did she just...?"

"I think so," I whispered, awed, afraid to speak aloud, afraid the spell would break.

We both stood there, waiting. Staring. Zoey laughed and blew a big spit bubble, which popped and dribbled saliva over her chin. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and kicked her legs and grinned up at us over her hand, her eyes twinkling, as though she knew a secret that neither of us did. I looked at Nick, "Maybe not," I said.

"Yeah. We probably just... thought..." he nodded, an almost concerned look on his face, "I mean." He paused, biting his lip.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Yeah."

We paused, then Nick shrugged, and leaned back in to kiss me like before we were interrupted, and I turned back to him again, too, and once more we were just about to kiss when --

"Oliver!"

Nick leaped up from his chair, "SHE DID SAY IT! SHE DID! I SAW HER LIPS MOVE! SHE SAID IT!" He pointed at her frantically, the way someone might if they were in a courtroom and they were pointing at the witness with a crucial piece of evidence. "Holy fluffin' cow!"

Zoey's eyes were wide at Nick's excited shouting, and she stared at him, her little mouth dropped in awe as he danced around the room. Then she looked at me with an expression on her face that I totally could picture when she was a teenager, annoyed by something Nick was doing to embarass her. I had a feeling I'd get a lot of those looks in the future. "It's okay, Zozozozo," I laughed, and I pulled her up out of the chair and hugged her to my chest.

Nick was dancing like he would if the Buccs just won the Superbowl.

Not that that would be happening anytime soon.

I smiled, though, watching as he cawed and crowed in excitement.

"Just think, Zozozo," I whispered as Nick reveled, "If our plans had all worked out like we'd wanted to, we might have missed your first word. Silly Zozo." I kissed her forehead. "Oliver, baby girl," I said.

"Oliver," Zoey replied, grinning.

I put a hand over my stomach... and a smile spread across my face, too.

Our baby's first words were I love you. It was the perfect Valentine after all.