A/N: I assumed the fic world knew what FLAN meant. Silly me. :P I means same chapter, FLipped Narrative. Here's a slightly longer chapter this time. Enjoy. :)

Louisa~

She stood in the door way. He was still sat there with his furrowed brow in concentration on his medical journal. He looked so serious all the time. Which made sense because...he was. But there were moments she knew reserved just for her when the crease between his eyes softened. That was when she loved him most. She loved it when he would stumble on his words and try to back track with no amount of hope, ultimately becoming flustered. Oh, how he was utterly adorable when flustered. His manner endeared him to her. His brief moments of vulnerability when the chinks in his armor were revealed showed her the man she loved; the man she didn't want to live without.

She didn't alert her presence to him at first, she just wanted to watch without him aware. Watch his calm, collected, serious manner. Because she knew when he saw what she was wearing he was going to get extremely adorable.

The soft blue cotton hung loose over her small frame reaching a few inches above the knees. She reserved the right to keep the top button undone...and the second one as well.
'Martin?'

'Hmm?' he replied not looking up from his reading.

She said his name again to steer his eyes away from the words on the page to the woman in his pajama top.

When he did his eyes blinked and opened wider than usual. His eyebrows were arched in a surprised sort of look whilst his lovely full lips parted slightly and then closed swallowing, eyes firmly fixed on her attire...well, his attire.

She spoke, 'I didn't want to wake James searching for my things. I hope you don't mind.'
He didn't respond.

'It was laying on the bed.'
Still no answer.

'It's quite soft and warm actually.'
Rubbing the fabric waiting for him to speak.

'Didn't think it would be so...'
Her one sided conversation was wearing thin.

'I can go take it off.'

'No!' he almost shouted. 'It's fine...it's good..you can borrow it. I have plenty more.'

So adorable, she thought smiling.
'OK. Thank you, Martin.'

Her fingers grasped the edges of the too long sleeves in nervous anticipation of the something she longed for and the something she wasn't sure would actually happen again in this house.
She didn't think she had to be more clear. She was standing in front of him very nearly naked but this was Martin, he didn't always grasp the obvious.

She could verbalize her intentions, 'Martin, will you go to bed with me?' ...scratch that, he would take that quite literally and they would likely end up in the same situation they'd been in for the past months, lying in bed together, each on their respective sides, him touching her in the middle of the night only by accident, apologising profoundly.

'Martin will you make love with me?' sounded a bit desperate and as much as she loved him he would make love with her but he would make it clinical, like it was his duty as a partner and her being the mother of his child. She wasn't expecting him to rip her top off and pin her to the nearest wall, as much as she wanted him to, however, she did hope her actions and few words were a sign to him that she wanted a more physical relationship; that she needed that side to the relationship to keep her sane; to have another aspect of their life together that she didn't have to worry about. Because she knew they were compatible in the bedroom...

under the sheets...

unbuttoned and...

pant less...

So there they were, she stood and he sat for what seemed like ages until they both spoke at the same time.

'Would you..'
'I'll just be..'

She gestured toward him, 'Would you like to join me?' he asked.

'Yeah, just...I'll be...just a minute.'

She turned to the kitchen and just stood there to catch her breath. She moved to the sink running the water placing her hands in the stream. She didn't know why she was washing her hands she just needed a moment to collect her thoughts; to calm down and just breathe. She knew he took things slowly; another thing she loved about him, his apparent respect for her. Though she wondered of if he hid behind his proper attitude towards her as a woman because he was just too bloody scared to do anything more. Fear of rejection, maybe? Fear of... who knows? He didn't have to be afraid of her. She was ready and willing. And now she wished he would just have the courage for once to make a move, put forth the effort to show her that he desires her. A woman needs some sort of reassurance especially one that recently gave birth. So there she was, standing at the sink, the soap sliding from her skin creating tiny bubbles slipping down the drain, feeling emotionally exhausted from the day...when she felt his presence behind her.

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