((Warning, this is Jon and Vicki. Pretty much guaranteed they'll end up in bed together. Just sayin'.)) _____________________

Another day, another hotel. Vicki couldn't really complain; she'd been expecting to be in a different city every other day for the next couple of weeks, after all. Jon had to do his bit to promote 50 Shades....which had premiered in New York the previous Saturday to a crowd of screaming lunatics all desperate to see her husband with his kit off on the big screen.

It had been a crazy evening from start to finish, but Vicki finally understood just how important a P.A. could be to someone in Jon's position. Thanks to Liv, the transition from interview to interview had been smooth and easy, and the questions had all been pre-arranged. No one had pressed either of them for any information they weren't happy to give, and indeed, the red carpet had been filled with shouts of congratulations on both Jon's marriage and his imminent fatherhood. After the premiere had come the party, which again Liv had organised their role in so well that the car was ready to whisk them away just as Vicki started to feel frazzled.

Everyday brought a new press opportunity for Jon to engage in, and though she was invited to all of them, Vicki was glad she didn't have to attend. Like this evening, for example ....Jon had been given a guest spot on one of the many live entertainment shows, and Vicki had graciously declined, choosing instead to curl up in her pajamas and watch the show from the comfort of their ludicrously luxurious hotel suite. She expected him back at any moment, the show long since over, but lying there on her back, her feet up on the couch, feeling the baby stretching in her womb, she missed her husband quite badly. So badly, in fact, that she'd got up and rummaged through his belongings for one of his sweaters to wrap herself up in before returning to her comfortable position on the floor.

Pressing a hand to the side of her now prominent bump, she felt distinctly the push from the inside against her palm, and smiled. "Finally," she told the fetus with a relieved tone to her voice. "Just you keep moving when your dad gets here, or he's going to think I'm making it up again."

Jon was accustomed to the daily grind of PR and promos, but after a while, it all started to wear on him. He was starting to sound like a broken record, answering the same questions over and over, but this was the price one paid for stardom, and the seemingly endless cycle of talk shows and magazine interviews wouldn't last forever. Jon privately wondered if he hadn't sold his soul to Hollywood for the almighty dollar, but thankfully, once things settled down, he and Vicki would be off to the peace and quiet and relative anonymity of Rhy'Din again, until it was time to start all over again. At least, the movie was a success, which was a relief. Had it bombed, his career might have been over, at least as far as the film business was concerned, and while it wasn't exactly Oscar material, he'd put everything he had into the role of Christian Grey.

Thankfully, Liv had been careful to keep their hotels secret from the press, though every now and then a reporter or two figured it out and popped out of the woodwork to accost him with a question or three or a candid photo op. Jon tried to be as gracious and accommodating as possible, but there were times when it got old. Tonight was one of those times. It had been a long day full of public appearances and interviews, flash bulbs flashing and microphones shoved in his face, and all he wanted was a little peace and quiet with his wife for a while.

Unfortunately for him, word had somehow gotten out, and a small crowd was waiting for him outside the hotel when the limo pulled up to drop him off. There was no way around it really, unless he went in through the service entrance, and even then, they'd more than likely follow. He just had to suck it up and deal with the price of fame for another night.

Jon flashed a smile to the crowd as he climbed out of the limo, the security Liv had hired to protect him and Vicki and their privacy flanking him on either side to escort him through the crowd to the door. He stopped every now and then to appease his fans, signing an autograph here, having his picture taken there. It seemed to take forever to get through the gauntlet of fans, but once he made it to the door, he knew it would be all downhill from there. He was almost there when something gave him pause. Scribbling yet another autograph for a gushing fan, his attention was caught by a face in the crowd - a strangely familiar face. It seemed for a moment as if time stood still, his gaze meeting that of a woman's who he didn't know, didn't recognize, and yet whose familiarity made his blood run cold.

For just a split second, it seemed he was a million miles away, walking down a busy street, someone chattering amicably at his side, and then a shot rang out, like a tire blowing out or a gun being fired, and he felt himself falling, a familiar voice screaming his name, but like a flash, the feeling passed. He blinked to clear his head and his vision, but the face was gone, as if it had never been there at all.

He was remotely aware that one of the security guards had taken hold of his arm and was tugging him away from the crowd, and before he could wrap his head around what had just happened, he found himself in the relative safety of the hotel lobby, the elevator dinging to take him to the room where Vicki was patiently awaiting his arrival. Someone asked if he was all right, and he mumbled a reply, muttering that he was just tired, but was that all it was" Jon watched as the floors moved past, the doors opening and closing as other guests came and went, arriving at last at 14, his floor. He mumbled a good night to the remaining guests on the elevator and numbly made his way down the hall to his hotel room.

Arriving outside his hotel room, Jon fumbled in his jacket for the keycard and slid it through the scanner, waiting for the lock to click open before stepping into the room. Home at last. Or at least, as close to home as he was going to get for a while.

As the key sounded in the lock, Vicki lowered her book to her chest, arching her back to raise her eyes and watch upside down as Jon made his way inside. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," she smiled in greeting, blowing a hank of bright copper hair out of her eyes as she looked up at him. The smile faded into a concerned frown as she took in his expression, not needing anything else to know that something was up. "Jon, what?s wrong?"

His face was pale, as if he'd just seen a ghost, which was nearly what he'd done, though he didn't know it yet. He stepped out of his shoes, almost automatically, leaving them by the door. Even after a few days away, it felt strange not to have Cosmo barking at his arrival and greeting him at the door. He made his way to the couch, a troubled look on his face, which he didn't even try to hide. There was no point in hiding his confusion; Vicki knew him too well and would only find out sooner or later anyway. "I don't know," he replied. "I think I just had a flashback." He didn't say it like it was a good thing.

Setting her book aside, she shifted, dropping her feet from the couch and struggling to sit up as he moved toward her, reaching up to lay a hand with reassuring affection on his thigh. "Ordinarily I'd say that's good, but I don't think you'd agree with me," she said quietly, drawing him to sit down and settling herself between his knees, arms resting on his thighs as she held his gaze. "What did you see?"

He lowered himself to the couch, partly because he wasn't sure if his legs would hold him upright much longer, a far-away look in his eyes. The doctors had told him he'd probably never regain an ounce of the memories he'd had before the shooting, but doctors were known to have been wrong before. He furrowed his brows, a thoughtful look on his face as he tried to explain what had just happened. "I'm not sure. A woman. Something about her face." He shuddered, for some reason, without really knowing why.

If there was one thing Jon was, it was patient. He pressed his hand to her side at her guidance, brows furrowing in anticipation as he waited for something, anything, to happen. He chuckled a little as she attempted to encourage the baby to move with a remark he found reminiscent of her mother. "Your mother used to call you..." He trailed off as he thought he felt something. It wasn't a strong kick, but there was definitely something moving somewhere inside there. "I felt it," he said, cutting a momentary glance to her, eyes wide with wonder. "Is that the baby?"

She just couldn't resist the opening he gave her with that question, her smile just sarcastic enough to give him warning before her mouth opened to drawl her teasing response. "No, Jon, I'm just brewing a really big fart and wanted to include you in the experience." She laughed, and the baby kicked again, more purposeful this time as it aimed a limb directly at Jon's palm. "Yes, it's the baby."

He took her at face value, so used to her coarse sense of humor that it didn't even phase him, his face lighting up with excitement, his earlier brush with morbidity forgotten. "I felt it! I felt it kick! That's not gas, Vicki. That's the baby!" he proclaimed excitedly, as if she didn't know this already. "Do it again," he said, either to her or the baby.

Vicki's laughter certainly seemed to engage the baby in her womb, if the flutter of little movements pressing and retreating in and out of Jon's palm was anything to go by. "See?" she grinned. "I told you there was life in there!"

"Well, I know it's not a balloon in there!" he teased, grinning back at her. He slid his palm along Vicki's stomach and leaned close to rest his head gently against the gentle swell of baby. "Hey, can you hear me in there" This is your dad," he said softly, moving to his knees in front of her to find a better angle. "Are you a boy or a girl" One kick for boy, two kicks for girl."

It was absolutely charming to watch Jon interacting with the bump and getting a response for once. He'd spent weeks talking to her navel and only having her word for it that anything was happening inside; it was wonderful to be able to direct him to where the kid was making its presence felt. She giggled at his attempt to identify the sex by movement, her laughter growing louder when the answer came in a series of little kicks, rather than the asked for one or two.

"What does that mean?" he asked, looking to Vicki for interpretation, not understanding what baby kicks meant and hoping for an answer.

"I think that means wait and see," she smiled, gently guiding Jon's hand to where the movement was most enthusiastic, helping him to feel it. In a few weeks' time, he wouldn't need her to guide him, but for now, she didn't mind it at all.

"Do you think he can hear me?" he asked, choosing one pronoun over the other, though it really didn't matter to him which it was, so long as the baby was healthy. He slid his hand to where the baby was kicking in full force, smile widening, his eyes shining with excitement. "We should stop in Cornwall while we're in England. Visit your father for a few days." The hell with the schedule. They were already both exhausted. The press could wait another day or two. He wanted her father to be as much a part of their lives and their children's lives as possible.

"How should I know?" she chuckled at his question. "Personally, I'm just glad it's not using my bladder as a trampoline tonight." She watched him as he smoothed his hand over her bump, hiking her shirt up to take away the barrier of cloth and give him a better experience in the process. "Really?" Her own eyes lit up at the prospect of visiting her father. Though they had been with him only a few months before, that had been before she had begun to show, before there was a bump for him to exclaim over and poke at. She could well imagine that her father's excitement at the prospect of becoming a grandfather was going to rival Humphey's at becoming a great-grand-uncle. "Are you sure, love" It's right in the middle of your promo tour."

"Yes, really. A couple of days won't hurt anything. They can't expect me to work everyday. I'm an actor, not an indentured servant." He settled himself on the floor at her feet, arms going around her as he laid his head to rest against her baby bump. "If they don't like it, they can talk to my agent. They still want two more movies out of me," he reminded her. "They want to keep us happy." He closed his eyes, feeling tired but happy. He'd practically sold his soul to Hollywood, but once the trilogy was over, he'd be able to pick any project he wanted.

Her bare feet moved, wrapping her legs around him as he hugged to the swell that encompassed his son or daughter in his wife's womb. Her fingers combed tenderly through his hair, knowing that now more than ever he needed to be able to come back to calm and normality and escape from the weird that was the business of promoting a new and frankly terrifyingly popular film. "They want to keep you happy," she murmured impishly. "Maybe I should start being a diva, see how they like having to accomodate a trouble-maker just to keep their sexy star on board."

"There's no I in us, Vic," he quipped, smiling up at her. She was as much a part of all this as he was, at least, as far as wanting to keep her happy was concerned. "I swear when this is all over, we're going to go away somewhere, take some time off to relax, just the two of us." In between plays at the Shanachie, anyway. "Wherever you want to go, even if it's just home." He caressed her belly gently and leaned in to follow that caress with a tender kiss. "I'm the luckiest man in the world, no, the universe," he corrected, knowing the world was a lot bigger than just Earth or Rhy'Din.

"We're going away in mid-November again, hmm?" she chuckled softly, tweaking his nose with playful affection. "Sounds like a tradition in the making." Leaning down, she nuzzled a kiss into his hair, curling her arms around him. A low, gentle sigh of contentment escaped her chest in a soft huff of breath. "If you're the luckiest man, then I'm off the scale of lucky for women. I need a new word for what I am."

He chuckled as she tweaked his nose reached up to return the tweak with equal affection. "You are beautiful and adorable and smart and funny, and I love you." He moved to his feet, reaching for her hands to pull her up with him. "What do you say we turn in, Mrs. Granger" It's been a long day."

Her nose scrunched as he tweaked, teeth nipping lightly at his fingertips. "I say that's a wonderful idea, Mr Granger," she smiled as he drew her up onto her feet, winding her arms about his waist to lean into him, trying not to chuckle at the enthusiastic kicks now being applied to her husband's stomach. "Do you want me to tuck you in" Or just warm a glass of milk for you?" She grinned cheekily. He knew she'd do it, too; she'd already presented him with a beer in a baby bottle on two separate occasions.

And at that first presentation of a baby bottle, he'd declared that he preferred to suck from a different kind of nipple, not one made of synthetic materal. He left the half-empty glass of expensive scotch on the table as he rose to his feet, arms sliding around his wife's ever-expanding waist. "How about I tuck you in instead?" He leaned in to brush a lovingly affectionate kiss against her lips, brief but warm and tender. "Do you want me to order ice cream and pickles from room service?" he asked, with a smirk.

He grabbed hold of her as she shimmied by, holding her by the shoulders as he thrust his hips back and forth toward her in time to the music. He leaned forward to slide his tongue against her lips as he eased his own sweater back from her shoulders. So much for the show. He seemed more interested in stripping her than himself.

Her lips parted easily, capturing his tongue between her teeth with a wicked little giggle before releasing him, smothering his lips with her own as she trailed her fingertips against his jaw, his sweater halfway down her arms and still falling. He was still wearing more than her, but stripping him came a close second to kissing him, and he knew it. She might have a one-track mind, but she loved the journey along it just as much as the destination.

He finished tugging the sweater from her arms, dropping it onto the floor, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding past her lips, offering her a taste of the scotch he'd sipped only a short time earlier. He kissed her slowly, languidly, the game of striptease completely forgotten and replaced with a new game. His arms slid around her waist as he backed her slowly toward the bed, even as the Spice Girls finished singing, and were replaced by a commerical advertising condoms.

She breathed him in as he kissed her, reacquainting herself with the unique scent that clung to her husband's skin as he guided her across the room toward the bed, only too happy to be guided about as she focused herself entirely on kissing and touching. "I missed you tonight," she whispered against his lips as her hands roamed restlessly from cradling his jaw to skimming his neck, brushing the skin beneath his shirt, and back once again. It was a confession she didn't often make, not wanting him to feel guilty for leaving her alone, but tonight she wanted him to know just how wanted he was, in every way.

"I missed you, too," he admitted, as she broke away from his lips, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, his gaze soft and loving and attentive. Though they both had jobs they loved, they still missed each other and coming back together at the end of the day was what made it all worthwhile. "No more talking," he told her, pressing a finger against her lips before kissing her again, fingers sliding through her hair and pulling her deeper into the kiss, his body catching fire with longing and desire.

The expression in her own eyes matched his in that quiet, exposed moment, reasserting the bond that had woven them together through so many years, whether they'd known it or not. Obediently, she silenced whatever else she might have said, drawing her fingers down his chest as he kissed her once more, her breath carrying a moan to paint his mouth with the taste of her as her arms slid about him beneath the thin material he still wore. Even the gentle ache in her back wasn't enough to distract her from this, tender and submissive to Jon in a way only he would ever see.

He eased her slowly back against the bed, the playfulness still there but muted, going slowly and gently with her now, as he peeled her shirt away from her body, leaving a trail of tender, loving kisses against the swell of her stomach, moving upwards to the swell of her bosom, knowing from experience these last weeks just how tender and sensitive they were now that she was pregnant. Each part of her body would receive the same gentle, loving attention, ignoring his own needs and desires to satisfy hers.

These moods always came upon them unexpectedly, this sweet turn toward devotion to one another that couldn't be predicted or planned, and there was always time enough for each to lavish ample attention on the other. For her own part, Vicki's increasingly sensitive form was a playground for Jon, brought to rousing, aching desperation with the lightest of touches. Her skin fairly glowed with that delicious spread of arousal, the hue deepening in rippling waves until she came for him in a shuddering tsunami of sensation that left her breathless and limp for long moments, reaching out to pull him down with her as she regained her breath.

It seemed to take almost no effort to bring her to that point, knowing just what she liked, just wanted he needed to do to bring her pleasure, practiced at the art of making love to his Vicki. That was not to say it was boring. Each time they made love, he learned something new; each time, it was a little bit different, and she'd taught him an important lesson in teaching him to relax and have fun, letting go of life's troubles and to just be himself. He savored quiet moments like these, confident in his ability to return the favor, to excite her or relax her at his whim. Tonight was about relaxing, and once he was satisfied her needs and desires were met, he rolled away from her to finish undressing, taking a moment to turn the radio and the lights off before climbing back into bed and covering her body with his to finish what he'd started. He made love to her slowly once more, gently, so as not to hurt the baby that was growing inside her, until he, too, was out of breath and sighing with satisfaction.

There were some who might say that they were fixated on sex, that their inability to get through even a single day without coming together in that physical joining was somehow unhealthy. But what could possibly be unhealthy about a pasttime that brought their connection so blatantly out into the light, and left them nestled in one another's arms to welcome the peace of the night ahead together" And yet tonight, as Jon and Vicki sank into sleep, arms draped about one another in unconsciously tender affection, they couldn't possibly have known that in the street below, fourteen floors down, a pair of dull eyes stared up at the windows of their hotel suite, unforgiving in the darkness. Some obsessions never die.

((Loose end, anyone" ::chuckles:: Stay tuned! And, yanno, thank'ee Mr Jon-Player-Person for indulging me!))