Haha, so someone on tumblr asked me to write a oneshot based off of AP!Chase's pregnancy line (if you've married him, you know the one hurr) and I just couldn't resist. Even though I really should get back to writing my ToTT fic…

But anyway. Just a quick note before you get reading, Molly/Hikari is once again called Holly because I'm used to using that name now. And it fits much better, imo anyway :P

Accidentally on Purpose

Chase didn't know whether to be amused or horrified as he watched his wife Holly wolf down a large piece of his homemade orange cake. Mostly because it took her approximately two bites to finish it – a feat he thought only Maya was capable of.

Pregnancy did strange things to a woman's body, Chase knew that. Between Holly's morning sickness and mood swings, he'd been witness to it firsthand in fact. If these few weeks were any indication, it was going to get even more difficult for her from here on. For both of them.

The most baffling change – to him anyway, considering his occupation – was the sudden shift in her appetite. Just a few days ago, Holly couldn't stand the sight of her once beloved pancakes, and just the faintest whiff of coffee sent her running to the bathroom with her hand clamped over her mouth. Seemingly overnight, her hunger had returned with vengeance, so to celebrate Chase had prepared a three course dinner of all of her favourite dishes.

"Can I have another slice?" Holly asked, holding up her plate. She'd barely paused to wipe the crumbs from her lips.

"Another?" Chase repeated with a chuckle. He leant over and reached out, gently brushing the side of her mouth with his thumb. "Don't you think you're over doing it?"

She eagerly eyed the cake on the nearby kitchen counter. "Hmm? No, I feel fine."

Despite having already eaten a bowl of spinach risotto, a big portion of pan fried fish in meuniere sauce and some orange cake, she was still hungry? Chase crossed his arms and shook his head.

Holly pouted her lips just a little, "Pleeease?"

Uh oh. The puppy dog look.

He was powerless against her. Chase stood up from the table in defeat and headed over to the kitchen. Minutes later, he returned with another piece. He set the plate down in front of his wife. She wasted no time, immediately digging in.

When the cake had been devoured (in five bites), Holly sat back with a contented sigh and patted her stomach. There wasn't much to see yet; at thirteen weeks, her baby bump was no more than the slightest paunch on her abdomen. If her appetite continued on like this, however…

"Maybe you should start watching what you eat," Chase suggested, as he began cleaning up the remnants of their meal, "You don't want to put on too much weight, right?"

Holly fixed him with a concerned frown, "Chase, I'm pregnant. What do you think is going to happen?"

He shrugged slightly, "I'm just saying… it won't be easy to lose if you gain too much."

"I might be pregnant, but I'm not an invalid," She said reproachfully, "I still have the farm to take care of."

"But that'll get harder as the months go by. I mean, by the end you'll be too big to even tie your own shoes."

Holly shot out of her chair. A mix of fury, hurt and tears twisted her expression.

Chase recognised that look. He saw it once a month, when that time turned his normally placid and sweet wife into a verbal sharpshooter with no mercy. Baby hormones had the same effect, but amplified it by a factor of ten. Chase had soon learnt the easiest way to dispel a bad mood was to do the 'right thing'. Take tonight, for example; Holly had been so overjoyed by the prospect of a romantic night together that dinner was delayed by half an hour because she couldn't keep her hands off him.

Say or do the wrong thing, on the other hand?

Chase gulped as his wife stomped towards him. He'd be lucky to get out of this alive.

"That's right. Regardless of what I eat, I'm going to look like I've swallowed a watermelon," She growled, poking him in the chest, "This is the first time I've been able to keep anything down in a week. I think I deserved an extra piece of cake!"

And just as quickly as it had flared up, Holly's anger fizzled and she turned away. Seconds later, she began to sniffle.

Oh crap.

"I'm sorry, Holly, I didn't mean it like that! Please don't cry." Chase went to comfort his wife, but she drew away from his open arms. "I just… I was worried about you and the baby and… you know I have trouble controlling my mouth sometimes–"

Holly was having no more of this. She tore across the living-dining-kitchen area and disappeared into their bedroom – he heard the distinct sound of a lock clicking into place.

Chase let out a tired sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. Of all the things to comment on, he had to pick her weight.

He followed the familiar path to their bedroom and took a moment to steel his nerves, before knocking at the door. When he predictably didn't receive a reply, he pressed his ear to the door; Holly's sobs were muted by the barrier between them, but it was enough to make his heart pang.

"Holly? I'm really, really sorry…" He said helplessly.

No answer.

"C'mon, open the door. Please?"

This time, her muffled voice shouted: "G-Go away!"

"I know I'm a stupid, big mouthed, insensitive jerk. Please forgive me! I'm on my knees here!" – A little white lie, but she'd never know.

Once again, it seemed like Holly would not reply.

The sound of a click suddenly broke the silence. Chase's heart skipped a beat and he scrambled down on his knees. The doorknob slowly turned, the door creaking open.

Her tearful eyes cautiously peered around the edge.

"Holly, I–"

A pillow collided with his face.

It was midnight and the temperature had dropped below the autumn norm. Chase shivered and hugged himself tighter, rubbing at his upper arms to keep his blood flowing. This flimsy sheet he'd found in one of the laundry cupboards was no help. He fidgeted on the spot, trying to get comfortable, but the sofa was hard, and no matter which position he tried, he couldn't dislodge the spring in his side. And of course, Holly had assaulted him with the lumpiest of their pillows.

There was no point; he'd be getting no sleep tonight. Chase threw off the thin blanket and sat up. At a loss of what to do, he stood and paced over to the kitchen (not hungry), then to the TV (too much noise), then to the bookshelf (too tired), before he wandered over to his bedroom door.

He leant his ear against the door, hoping for some indication that his wife might still be awake and calm enough to take pity on him.

Nothing.

Chase's shoulder drooped in defeat. With nowhere else to go, he retreated back to his spot on the couch. He lay down, folding his arms behind his head, and stared at the darkened ceiling above.

She couldn't stay mad at him forever… could she?