"This..." He waved a hand at their surroundings. "None of this matters. It's temporary. I feel like I'm whoring myself out to Hollywood to make a fast buck. It's just a god-damned movie. That's all it is." Once that was said, spilling out all at once as if he'd been keeping it locked up too long, he blew out a breath, shoving the anger back down. She was right. He'd made this choice for himself and for her, and for now, it was only a month-long committment. "No, of course not," he replied, "But I don't think she realizes what she's gotten herself into and neither does he, and it's my fault. This movie is going to be huge, Vicki. It's going to blow Twilight right out of the water."

He'd splurged his feelings like this to her only once before, on their second date. At least this time Vicki knew what to expect, not to take offence at his quiet explosion. "You're allowed to be angry," she told him firmly. "You're allowed to resent the fact that you need to do a movie at all. You're even allowed to regret making this decision. But the decision is made, Jon. And you do not have to embrace being a huge star, you do not have to play the game. You can hold to your commitment; you can do the bare minimum of the P.R., and you can come home between the whirlwinds of interest. But you can't take responsibility for anyone else's decisions, and breaking your word just isn't you." She sighed softly, shaking her head. "You need to find a way to reconcile this with yourself, or it's going to drive you insane."

He sighed again, knowing she was right, but not quite sure how to make that reconciliation with himself and his own inner demons. To him, it was just another acting gig, though it was one he was being paid vulgar amounts of money to take part in. Still, five million was probably chump change when one considered the profit the movie was more than likely to pull in. "Sorry," he apologized, his voice quiet with remorse. He wasn't upset with her; he was just worrying too much. "I'm not going to break my word. I made a commitment, and I'll stand by it. I just..." He sighed again and shoved his fingers through his hair. "This isn't me anymore, Vicki."

"I know." She leaned over, gently touching her lips against his cheek. "But even if you're not Jon Granger the mega movie star, you're always going to be Jon Granger the actor. You're always going to crave the rush that comes with performing to an audience, the thrill when someone recognises you and acknowledges your talent and skill. You're going to be remembered for all time as one of the greatest stage actors that ever lived. But you know what? I love you. Our baby will adore you. No matter what you choose to do with your life, you will be my husband, the father of my children, and I will never regret that." Her lips touched his once again. "That is who you are, Jon."

Her gentle words and quiet reassurance seemed to calm the troubled waters that were clashing inside him. The tension seemed to ease, his shoulders relaxing, the frown disappearing, the worry lines in his forehead smoothing out, touched by her words, by her confidence and belief in him, perhaps more than his own confidence in himself. He believed he had yet to reach his full potential as an actor, but what that full potential was, he wasn't quite sure. As a man, however, life got no better than this, and he was truly thankful for what he'd been given.

"I'm going to go down in the history books of Hollywood as that guy who played Christian Grey," he remarked casually and somewhat sarcastically. He knew there were worse roles, and he was proud of his work, but he wished people could see past the role and understand how much effort it took to make it all look so easy.

"Who cares what Hollywood thinks?" Vicki countered with a faint smile. "They tried to make a star out of Pamela Anderson, for goodness' sake. And besides, there are worse ways to be remembered. You could have taken a role that meant you'd go down in history as the man who humped Ricky Gervais." Her smile brightened to a teasing grin as she leaned close once more, nipping a soft kiss to the end of his nose. "Or Micky Mouse."

He was having a lot of trouble staying glum in the wake of Vicki's effervescent teasing, unable to hold back a smile as she dropped a kiss against the tip of his nose. "Only if it's the porn version." Of Mickey Mouse, that is. "Seriously....If I ever do another movie once this is over, it had better be Oscar material." Hell, he'd done Oscar material before, but had never been nominated for one. He'd tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, but it annoyed him at times. The Academy was a fickle bunch who forgot you all too soon. "I'll probably get one posthumously one day."

"Good for you. Rhy'Din being what it is, you could always terrify the Academy by showing up in ghost form to collect." She laughed at this mental image, nuzzling a soft kiss to his lips. "Now let's get inside before the paparazzi realise we're still in the car."

He laughed at her suggestion, imagining himself as a ghost. "I'd be like Jacob Marley. Ask me not who I am, but who I was," he quoted, feiging a gravely voice, and laying a hand against his chest, pretending to be Marley's Ghost. It had been a long time since he'd done A Christmas Carol, but he knew the lines as if by rote. Odd how lines from various plays stuck in his mind, though his memory was full of holes like Swiss cheese. He leaned over, extending his arms to her, ghost like and tried to look scary. "Bahhhhhhh."

Vicki let out a little squeal of laughter, lurching back against the passenger door as he leaned toward her, playing at cowering in the face of his awesome fearsomeness. "And what does the ghost of Granger present want to do to me, hmm?" she chuckled to him, batting his hands out of the way to tweak at his nose playfully.

He continued trying to look fierce, even as one groping hand copped a feel. "The ghost of Granger present demands your presence in the boudoir, so he can give you proper and thorough humping."

"Well, I'd better get moving, hadn't I?" Chuckling, Vicki slid closer to catch his cheek in her hand, pressing the sort of kiss gossip magazines paid vast amounts for pictures of to his lips with a quiet murmur of a teasing moan. "Think you can make it without developing a limp?" she grinned wickedly, nipping at his lips.

He smiled into her kiss, returning it with just as much gusto. "Think you can make it without stopping the elevator halfway there?" he countered with a challenging smirk, still leaning across the seat at her.

"I'll race you," was Vicki's laughing counter-tease, knowing full well that Jon would always win a race like that. He was fitter, had longer legs, and wasn't wearing heels, for a start. Touching one last kiss to his lips, she slid back again, twisting to open the door. "I might even let you get grabby if you let me win."

"I did kind of promise to call your dad, didn't I?" he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice at the prospect of that. He smiled as she pulled him into the elevator with her, the doors swishing closed behind them. He settled his hands against her hips, sighing into her kiss. "As soon as possible," he repeated, seconding her thoughts, wondering if she was anxious to get married or anxious for something else. He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, a little more thoroughly, despite the risk of nausea.

So long as he didn't whisk her off her feet and spin her about, Vicki was fairly confident that the nausea was under control all over again. She'd only thrown up twice so far, and she had no intention of doing so again. Her arms curled about him beneath his jacket as she smiled against his lips, meeting that thorough kiss with her own enthusiasm, only drawing back when she realised that neither of them had actually put the key into the pad to signal the lift to move. "Key, stud-muffin," she laughed softly, nuzzling to his jaw fondly.

He laughed as he realized his own faux pas. "Oh, right. We're not going anywhere this way," he remarked, flushing slightly, not entirely from embarrassment. They might be going somewhere, but it wasn't up the elevator to the penthouse. He fished the keycard out of his wallet and swiped it to activate the elevator, then pressed a thumb against the button for the top floor. "Sorry, I got distracted," he apologized for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day, keeping the card handy to swipe their way into the room.

Giggling at how easily he'd allowed himself to be swept out of reality with kisses and warm affection, Vicki stepped back to allow him space to swipe and set the elevator to moving, leaning back against the metal wall. The look in her eyes was infinitely loving as she crooked her finger to him. "Think you can handle a little more distraction?"

He arched a brow at her, gaze darting to the finger that was beckoning him forward for a brief moment, his mouth curving into a mischievous grin. "You realize if we stay here too long, they'll call the Fire Department," he warned, closing the distance between them. He leaned close, bracing himself against the metal wall behind her, one hand on each side of her head as he dipped his head to drop his lips against the side of her neck.

"Only if we don't get out when the lift stops," she grinned back at him, perfectly willing to tempt Fate so long as Jon was right there with her, doing a little tempting of his own. Shrunk back against the wall as he leaned into her, Vicki's laugh faded into a deeply satisfied sigh of pleasure as his lips found purchase on her skin. Her own lips brushed his ear as her fingers wound through his hair, her other hand resting soft and tender over his heart. "I'd rather you were the one to put out the fire."

His lips parted from her neck, if only temporarily, to reply to her remark, his face flushed with desire. They'd been covertly teasing each other all day, in the car, beneath the table, now in the elevator, and he wasn't sure he could wait much longer. "Tell you what," he told her, as his lips continued their travels along the side of her neck, his fingers wandering against the curve of her waist. "Let's call your father and give him the good news, and then you're all mine."

"Oh, that's mean," she laughed in response, his teasing compromise earning him a sharp nip to his earlobe even as she shifted, growing restless under his tender ministrations. "You really think you can behave yourself long enough to make that phone call, hmm?"

The nip to his earlobe produced a soft groan, and he suddenly wasn't sure if he'd be able to wait, after all. "It's either that or wait until later, but if we wait until later, it probably won't be 'til morning." Either way, he didn't really care. Chris was her father, not his. Jon smiled as his fingers crept higher and curled around the curve of her left breast. "What do you say I fill the tub while you pour us some champagne?" The elevator dinged as they reached the top floor, the doors sliding open behind him.

She gasped softly, arching into the cup of his hand against her breast, the reaction something more vehement than it had been only a couple of months before. Not only were they swelling, but they were definitely more sensitive now, and Jon seemed to be reaping all the benefits of that. Her skin flushed as she brushed a kiss to his cheekbone. "Make it lemonade, and you're on," she countered with a low chuckle, moving to ease out from between him and the wall. "We're here."

"Lemonade it is," he agreed with a chuckle, resigning himself to the fact that she wasn't going to be partaking of any alcoholic beverages anytime soon, and in order to be supportive, neither was he. He brushed a thumb against her breast, coaxing her further, a mischievous grin on his face, wondering if she'd even be able to wait long enough for him to get the tub filled. He would have continued his seduction right then and there, but the door to the elevator was wide open and if they tarried much longer, security might come looking to see what was wrong. Instead, he let her go, turning to follow her out of the elevator to the penthouse suite.

"Mmm ..." The sound was half a protest and half a moan as he continued with his mischief, slipping free of his grasp with a quietly gasping chuckle. "You are so going to follow through on being the biggest tease this side of the portals, Granger," she informed him, throwing a grin over her shoulder to him as she stepped out of the elevator.

He laughed, amused at the way he could so easily manipulate and seduce her. "What are you gonna call me when you're a Granger, Miss Marshall?" he asked, a teasing tone to his voice, as he put an emphasis on the word Miss. If he had his way, her days as Miss Marshall were numbered. He admired the view as she stepped out in front of him, following after her, hesitating just long enough that the elevator doors almost swished closed on him before he could make his escape.

She heard the scramble to get out of the elevator before the doors closed, letting her own mischievous laugh float back to him before she offered an answer to his question. "Well, I have a liking for 'husband'," she grinned, taking up a lean beside the last locked door before they would finally have true privacy for the rest of the evening. "What do you think?"

He caught up to her finally and unable to keep his hands to himself once he got going, he slid an arm around her waist from behind, leaning over her to nuzzle her neck with his lips once again. "I think we're not going to make it to the bathroom," he predicted, not quite answering her question. He swiped the keycard and the lock in the door clicked, signalling it was open.

"You think?" Vicki's chuckle faded into a softly sweet sigh as she leaned back into him, one hand stroking over the length of his arm at her waist to link her fingers with his as her head tipped to one side, offering him more of the smooth line of her neck to taste. Her free hand rose to push the door open, her body moving forward with a strange mixture of reluctance and eagerness, and together they tumbled through, the gentle click of the lock sealing them into intimate privacy for their eyes only.

((Huge thanks to Jon's player for this scene!))