Owen cried! It wasn't overly loud or forceful, but it was there and it was so nice to hear him. He was usually so quiet in his isolette, especially with some sort of breathing assistance in his face. Today was bath day. When the nurse had suggested to Gillian that she could help bathe him she had called Cal. With Lewis and work, they were hardly ever up at the hospital at the same time and this felt like the perfect excuse for them to do something with Owen together. It was taking them time to adjust, sure, but Gillian also didn't like the feeling that she hardly got to spend time with her husband that didn't involve getting ready for bed and going to sleep.

"Oi come on," Cal coaxed Owen gently, his large hand holding the baby's head and neck while Gillian trailed water over his skin. At least he wasn't that angry red anymore. Not exactly cherub pink either but he was gaining weight, slowly, and filling out. He was a few ounces over his birth weight now and getting extra calories added to Gillian's breast milk to help him gain weight that bit faster. That felt like a victory in the right direction. After the infection last week, the cessation of feeds and a course of antibiotics, including being put back on the CPAP, anything that showed improvement made Cal feel a whole lot better about his boy's progress.

"We're just makin' you clean," Cal told Owen. The umbilical stump had fallen off which meant they could finally submerge him in water. Sort of. They were set up on a trolley right by all his monitors and medical equipment, just in case. The oxygen saturation monitor had been removed from his foot for this and his IV line had officially been removed yesterday, so they just had to be careful of the apnoea and bradycardia monitors, which were, thankfully, plastic covered and waterproof.

Gillian smoothed her hand slowly over the boy's head, pressing against Cal's fingers to get the water between father and son. She took her time and was focussed and Cal turned his head to watch her for a moment. She still cried a bit. Mostly when she had to leave Owen. But sometimes he caught her tearing up at random moments. She said it was because she was tired. Cal knew it was more than that; crazy hormones were still coursing through her. It had been well over a week, nearly two, since Owen had been born too early, but that didn't make this situation any easier. Their house was a mess. Laundry piled up. Lewis was often late for his pre-K classes. But they were surviving through it. Surviving. Not exactly excelling. They were still working on that plan. But it was getting better. It was.

"Cal," Gillian got his attention and he realised he had been day dreaming. She was nudging the baby by the shoulder. He had gone still and pale. He had stopped breathing. Cal's heart rate started to go up as Owen's slowed down, and tension entered his shoulders. Gillian nudged Owen again, firmer this time. The alarm of the monitor started to sound and Cal wondered if he should take Owen out of the water. He couldn't keep his body temperature up by himself; he would freeze with no clothes on. Owen still didn't stir and the nurse approached quickly, not panicked, but with some urgency. Gillian switched to tapping the bottom of Owen's feet forcefully.

Owen started to go blue and the nurse reached forward to intervene. Cal's heart beat so hard it was starting to feel uncomfortable and he was afraid he was going to drop the baby. There was nothing worse than standing there with his hands full of an infant who was not breathing and not be able to do anything. But Owen suddenly sucked in a breath and another. The nurse relaxed, the machine quit its alert but Cal didn't calm down. Not until Owen had gone pink again did he feel comfortable about even moving. The nurse suggested it was time to get him out again. But not dressed. Not until he could regulate his own body temperature would he get clothes.

PJ

"That was scary," Gillian admitted as they headed out of the hospital. It was time to get Lewis. Cal volunteered. Gillian said she would meet him at home, seeing as they had arrived in different cars.

"It was," he agreed. "You know if you wanna stay for a bit." Because it must be hard for her to walk away after that. What with Lily and all.

Gillian slipped her hand into his. "No, it's ok. Family time at home sounds pretty good about now." They headed into the car park and then tried going their separate ways. Their arms extended out until their hands pulled.

Cal laughed suddenly. "Just had the biggest flashback."

Gillian stepped closer to him again. "I'm over there."

"But I'm ova there," he repeated. Gillian put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest and throat. Cal pressed his cheek against her hair. "Do you rememba?"

"Yes."

The night their nephew Max had been born; he wasn't Cal's back then but he was now. So long ago. Cal chuckled again. He wasn't even sure he had thought about having kids with Gillian at that point. They had just got back together. Things had been a little weird. Cal was still figuring out what he wanted. He wanted Gillian, but how much? It wasn't long after that he had started thinking about marriage.

"What?" Gillian queried lightly.

"Nuthin'. I'm glad you called me today." Change the subject, distract her. It seemed that was enough; he didn't have to add anything more to that statement. All the things left unsaid were shouted out into the silence. Gillian held him tighter. She shifted her head and gave him their first proper kiss since she had gone into labour, almost two weeks ago now.

"Love you Cal."

He gave her a smile, loved the way her eyes glittered in their genuineness. "Love you too."

PJ

"How have things been?"

"Tough," Cal admitted. "There's all that normal baby tension stuff goin' on but no baby and it's worse because we're also waitin' to bring him home as soon as we can."

"When are you allowed to take him home?" Wu crossed his leg over his knee.

"We don't actually know. It could be at least a month. As his docta keeps tellin' us: it's all up to Owen."

"How is he doing?"

"Good. Gained a couple of ounces in weight; he's just short of four pounds now. He's still on the air but he's figa-ed out how to pull the cannula off his face. You go in and he's got it in his little fist," Cal smiled, proud, gushing. He didn't care. The psychologist did ask. They were allowed to pick him up now, so long as he'd had a chance to rest between his last interaction and they had learnt to be able to tell when he was sleepy or over stimulated. Cal could snuggle him up against his chest, buttoning his shirt over him. The nurses called it Kangaroo-care; the skin to skin contact would help the baby connect, develop and grow.

Wu smiled pleasantly. Cal gave a little mouth shrug, to say he had finished. The doctor could change the subject if he wished. "And how is Gillian coping?"

"Surprisingly well," Cal responded optimistically. Now.

"Would you be able to tell if she wasn't?"

"Yes," Cal answered confidently. He was noticing a change.

"And you? Are you coping?"

"I think so yeah. I mean, Gill was pretty distant for a while last week, you know, right afta she got home? And I don't think it helped that I was bein' pretty distant." He held up a hand, almost in warning. "Can't exactly blame the whole thing on her. That's not right."

Wu gave him a wry smile. He nodded. "Very good."

"I think, at least for me, it was the shock of it. It happened quite fast and there's that double worry of the baby not bein' completely right and the emotional aftamath for Gill. It's a lot like afta Lewis was born. But he was with us the whole time and he came home."

Not that Lewis's birth was in any way practice for what they were going through now.

"I can imagine that's very difficult."

"Yeah but we kind of have a system now for gettin' up there to see Owen and runnin' around afta Lewis and tryin' to put a dent in the housework. Gill's mum's been really good."

She came over with meals, or cooked and did laundry and dishes. It helped. She said it was her duty as the Grandmother and Cal was half inclined to believe her.

Wu gave Cal another smile. "That's great to hear."

PJ

AN: Slightly M section

"Are you awake?"

"I am now," Cal mumbled. He felt Gillian shift, but instead of further away, it was closer against his chest. An embrace. A hug. He let his arm drop around her, gave a pleased kind of murmur. "Boobs," he muttered. "Fantastic." He felt Gillian chuckle.

"Such a dirty mind."

Cal woke up further. This was different. He let his hand slide a little lower into the small of her back. She reached back and shifted it further down to her butt. "Oh hello," Cal spoke up, finally catching on.

"Hello," Gillian murmured. Cal could feel her breath tickle against his neck. It was still dark, even for March, so it must have been early. Early enough for no Lewis. Early enough to be between pumps of breast milk. He hoped anyway. He hoped she wasn't waking him up in the dead of the night for... Wait, what were they doing?

"Gill?"

"Hm?" She hummed pleasantly as she found his lips.

"Um. Just wonderin' what we're doin' here."

Gillian shifted to kiss in the hollow beneath his jaw. She nibbled at him gently and he gave a disgruntled sigh. "Fooling around?" She finally supplied.

"Ok," Cal agreed. They were on that six week no sex ban again and only two weeks into it. Nearly three. Nearly half way.

"Because the thing is," Gillian murmured, her hand suddenly against his groin. Cal flinched. "I've been thinking about you."

"Oh," Cal strangled out as she massaged him. "Gill."

"I miss you," she almost whined. She shifted her hand beneath underwear. "And we've been doing so well at figuring out a plan. And talking. This seems like the next step, don't you think?"

Cal wasn't even listening but he was aware she had suddenly gone quiet and that the air was loaded with the question he hadn't heard. "Sorry what?"

"Never mind," she sounded amused. She shifted to kiss his throat again. He felt her teeth and tongue, the way her fingers alternated between firm and feather. Her full breasts pressed against his chest, soft and warm. He could feel his heart rate steadily rising, his skin getting hot as she worked him. She worked him perfectly. At some point through their marriage he figured it would be a turn off that she knew him too well. He always figured they'd hit the wall. He'd get bored with her. But no. She knew, but she didn't rush it, she teased and she drew it out, stringing him along just enough until he started begging. He never begged. Gillian let out a laugh and he wanted to flip her over and ride her hard, but no. He wasn't allowed to do that either. So he settled for fisting the bed sheet, for trying to gain a little of his control back with hip thrusts that should throw her off; they didn't. He struggled with her name in his throat, which only amused her more and just when he thought he was about to die she tipped him into release and withdrew.

"Wholly fff," he stammered and couldn't finish the word. Gillian laughed lightly. Cal rolled into her, feeling limp and yet wired. He growled against her throat and she shivered. "Oh," he noted lightly. "So that was a little bit hot for you too was it?"

"Why do you think I woke you up?"

Cal growled again, low and dangerous and purposeful. He shifted his arm out from under him and went straight for the jugular. Gillian arched her back off the bed in a sudden convulsive movement. "Oh shit!"

"Swearin'!" Cal reprimanded. He bit her neck, open mouthed, not a nip, because nips left angry little red marks and an open bite was more likely to fade faster. He didn't sooth the spot either, because that aggravated the skin more. Or at least, that was what he had figured out about Gillian.

Her lithe fingers closed around his upper and lower arm, clung on tight. "Sorry," she whispered to the ceiling. "It's your fault."

"My fault?" Cal murmured. "Have I been teachin' you bad habits too?"

"Too easy," Gillian groaned.

Cal chuckled. Gillian slipped her hand to his wrist, applied pressure. "Oh do you want to do it? Should I just go have my showa?"

"No," she whined. "Just hurry."

"Hurry? That's so offensive Gillian."

"I'm on a schedule."

"What time is it!" Cal asked shocked.

"Six."

"Bloody hell," Cal groaned.

"Swearing," she retorted.

"That's not a swear word."

Gillian gave a huff. She squirmed. "Can we not? Not right now?"

Cal grinned to himself. He leaned in to her neck again, kissing and teasing her skin. Gillian gave a little 'oh' and squirmed again. And then the alarm went off and she tensed up. "Shall I get that?" Cal asked lightly.

"Would you?" Gillian responded politely.

He shifted, had to withdraw his hand; the groan of displeasure she gave cut right through him and made his heart pound suddenly. There was no way he could still be turned on, could he? He struggled with once a day... Or at least, he used to.

Cal hit the button to shut the alarm up. Gillian wrapped her arms around his neck and clung on, kissing him as he turned back, tangling his legs in hers and pyjamas and bed sheets. She pushed him onto his back, rubbed herself against him; so not fair. She reached for his hand, selected two of his fingers and directed them exactly where she wanted them, letting out a satisfied sigh as the connection was made again. She pressed down on him and Cal decided he didn't particularly want to be a passive participant when he was supposed to be pleasuring her. That was kind of beside the point. So he sat up into her, wrapping his left arm around her back to hold her tightly against his body. Her head dropped to his shoulder as he pressed his thumb upwards. "Oh god!" She groaned.

'There,' Cal thought smugly. 'Can't do that without my assistance can you?'

He pushed harder, slowly winning over control until she gave up and wrapped her arms around his neck and head, pressing his face in close against her shoulder. He could feel her breasts again and the dampness of her skin. He fought back the urge to turn her over again. Maybe they shouldn't be doing this, 'fooling around' as Gillian put it; Cal didn't know what was worse, the taste of temptation or simply abstaining.

The thing with Gillian is that Cal knew her so well too and he thought he would have gotten bored with knowing every way to take her to the heights of pleasure. He knew the exact amount of pressure, the pace to set, the moment when if he didn't end it she would hurt him in her desperation. But it was fun. Still fun. She collapsed against him, breathing heavily, hot, damp, quivering and Cal rode it out with his arm around her, holding her tightly against him.

Then she gave a moan and he slid her to his side, against the mattress, leaned over her and pressed his mouth against hers sweetly.

"Consida yourself beaten at your own game," Cal told her, kissing her neck a little and then withdrawing.