A/N: I think I warned about this before, but I don't know what Nathan's canon DOB is, so if anyone does know his DOB, it may or may not mesh up with his DOB in this story. Also, I'm going to try and get Chapter 37 up today. I've gotten most of it written, but it's not quite done yet. I was going to wait to post both of them together, but you all have been waiting too long anyway, so I'll just get this up now.

All That She Wants

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Please, Peyton. Please? Pleeeeeease?"

The blonde squirmed out of the way as her best friend bounced around her, giving her the most pathetic puppy dog eyes she'd ever seen. "Ugh, fine!" she complained as she stepped behind the man in line at the Cinnabon counter. "What is with you and cinnabons lately anyway?"

"Cravings," the brunette only half lied. "And thank you!" She threw her arms around Peyton's neck. "I'll pay you back as soon as I get my check."

Peyton sighed. "Don't worry about it, I got your back. Or your stomach. Or whatever."

"You're the best!"

"I know," she smirked as they stepped up to the front. "One regular cinnabon with extra icing, please." She retrieved her debit card from her purse as Brooke practically salivated at the counter. "But seriously, since I'm being such a good friend, I think you should finally let me take a peek at your new job."

"Why are you so interested in seeing me at work?"

"Because Brooke Davis working is a sign of the apocalypse that I need to see for myself?" She ducked out of the way of the brunette's swatting hand. "But seriously, though. I just want to check it out. Can't a best friend check out another best friend's new job?"

"I don't want my boss to think I'm inviting my friends over to chat and goof off. This is important, Peyton. I may not like it, I may not want a job, but it's what has to be done."

"Wow," Peyton replied seriously. "You really have grown up in these last few months."

Brooke dove into cinnabon with her plastic fork as Peyton spoke. "Mhmm," she mumbled through a mouthful of sweet cinnamon-sugar goodness.

"Or not." Peyton dryly ribbed. They walked in silence for a few moments as Brooke shoveled the sweet between her lips, then Peyton inquired, "So how's it going so far? Are you liking it? Are customers as awful as the movies make them out to be?"

"Seriously, one question at a time P. Sawyer. First, it's been okay. Not terrible, but then again, I've only been at it for three weeks, so the novelty could wear off at some point. Two, I kind of already answered that in one. And three, they aren't as bad as you'd think. But that could also be because I'm not working in a fast food place or gas station or something equally horrible like that. The parents are actually worse than the kids when it comes to leaving clothes around and not putting stuff back where they found it."

"You used to do that all the time."

"Yeah, well, now I know how flipping annoying it is. My new position is that I hate people who do that. My kid will never be one of them."

"Unless it rebels."

"Shhh!" Brooke hissed, pressing her index finger firmly to her lips. "Ixnay the ebelray! Remember, it can hear stuff now, it might be listening!"

"Well in that case I'm going to make a point of playing my records every night when you get home, so as to indoctrinate it with my musical mojo by the time it breaks free of your womb."

"You wouldn't!"

"I so would!"

"I need full belly ear muffs. You're an evil, evil woman." She stopped at the door of Mommie's Designs and finished up the last of her cinnabon, then pointed to the windows. "Okay, now you've seen the store, happy now?"

"What? That doesn't count. That's like saying you've seen the Eiffel Tower because you saw an online virtual tour."

"Except you're five feet away and online, you're a half a world away."

Peyton rolled her eyes. "You're impossible. But lucky for you, I've got some errands to run right now, so I don't have time to grind down your defenses. But trust me! By the time I get back here tonight, I'm going to want a tour and I swear I'll hold you in a headlock until you give me one, pregnant or not."

Brooke playfully swatted Peyton on the butt. "Get your skinny ass out of here!" She flashed her middle finger in mock offense as Peyton kissed her fingers and slapped them to her butt before scampering off.

"Friend of yours?"

Brooke jumped at the sound of Melanie's voice. "Uh, yeah." She felt her cheeks burn, hoping Melanie hadn't seen her flip Peyton off. "The best, actually. Her name's Peyton, we've been friends since were kids."

Melanie nodded as she led Brooke to the cash register. "Are you comfortable manning the store for about forty-five minutes by yourself?"

Brooke squirmed. "I've been doing alright the last couple weeks while you've been in the back," she edged. "I don't see why not."

"Great! I'm really sorry to leave you, but I've got to get down to the bank this morning, it's urgent."

"Sure, no problem." I hope it's slow. She watched Melanie collect her purse and coat, then gave her boss a friendly wave as she left. For fifteen minutes, the store remained empty, until Brooke finally got board enough to pull some scratch paper out of her backpack and a pen off the register and start doodling.

First she made rough sketches of a couple of the garments Lydia had given her several weeks earlier, then she began to shade and fill in the details. She chewed her lip while musing on the clothes for a while, then she thought back to the advice she'd given Jordanne on the things she'd bought the day Melanie had given her the job. Finally, she flipped her pencil over and began to erase certain things and then redraw them, some with new designs, others with added or subtracted fabric, and still others with new shading.

By the time she was finished, the bell above the door announced her first customer of the day, so Brooke slid the sketches back into her bag and glided out from behind the counter. "Welcome to Mommie's Designs," she chirped. "How can I help you today?"

The father who had entered was carrying his daughter on his shoulders. Although he was in his late thirties or early forties, he was still intensely attractive for his age, vaguely resembling Taye Diggs, though he shared a smile that he unmistakably shared with Eddie Murphy, which as far as Brooke could tell, seemed to be reserved for his daughter and the silly jokes she was telling him.

The little girl, on the other hand, was noticeably biracial, and perhaps one of the most beautiful children Brooke had ever seen. The child's slanted eyes and cherub face made her think of Kimora Lee Simmons and simultaneously reminded her of how as a kid, Peyton's dad had once threatened them that if they made faces at each other, their faces would stick that way, so they'd tried to use his logic to pull at the corner of their eyes so they could have Asian eyes during what Peyton later referred to as their Oriental phase.

"We're looking for something for my nephew," the man explained. "My brother just had his second, their first daughter, and now her newly crowned big brother is feeling a little out of the loop. We wanted to make him feel appreciated."

Brooke snapped her fingers enthusiastically. "We've got just the thing!" she replied in her most cheerfully cheerleader voice, almost bordering on over enthusiasm. "Does your nephew like superheroes, by any chance?"

"Supewman!"

"Ah," Brooke winked at the little girl. "The All American Superhero, huh? I was always partial to Wonder Woman myself." She giggled. "Actually, I always kind of thought Wonder Woman and Superman would be perfect for each other, ya know? 'Cause they're so alike."

"Nuh-uh!" the little girl laughed. "Supewman and Louis Lane!"

"Yeah," Brooke deflated a bit. "That's what everyone used to tell me too." She shrugged. "They were together once in the comics, though. They had a son, actually. But," she waved her hand, "anyway…Here we are. We just got these in last week: all your name brand superhero PJ's, complete with action figures! Do you think your nephew would be interested, Sir?"

The gentleman picked up a folded pair of pajamas spotted with Superman in different poses along the night shirt and night pants, which also had a plastic bag attached to the tag containing a red cape and a Superman action figure inside. "He'll love this one! We'll probably never be able think, Akahana?"

"I likes it!"

"Looks like we're set!"

Brooke ushered them back to the counter and chit chatted about the man's nephew as she rang up his order, then flashed a pearly smile and wished them well as they left. Once gone, she retrieved her sketches again and continued to mull over what she'd done, before a new idea began to formulate in her head.

Unable to stop thinking about the delicate blending of Asian and African features that Akahana had, Brooke began to chew on the end of the pen, then pressed her sketches to her rounding belly. I wonder what features from Nathan and I are going to be most prominent? She pressed her pen to her paper again, this time drawing the outline of head, with a rather pointed chin, similar to her own. Then she sketched in Nathan's lips and eyes, with her nose, and finally began to add in a nest of dark curls and even bangs, as an afterthought.

"Is that what you look like?" she rubbed her belly in slow circles with the warm palm of her hand and felt a familiar heat come to her eyes as she thought back to the previous months, to the miscarriage of one of the two lives she and Nathan had created together.

With a shaky wrist, she slid her pen a few inches to the right and drew another facial outline, this time with a more rounded chin, like Nathan's. She drew in his ears, shaded in her eyebrows, and once again gave the face the basketball star's eyes. All in all, the second sketch looked more like him than her, though she did make a point of blending their noses and lips in the second one, even if the lips did stretch into his smile that was, for the most part, rare on his face.

Maybe it won't even have brown hair? Blonde? Nathan's half brother has blonde hair and Nathan looks more like his brother's parents than his own. Except my parents aren't blonde. I don't think I'm even related to a blonde. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the rules about recessive genes from biology but gave up thirty seconds later.

"I wish the ultrasound could show me a real picture of you. Not that I can even afford an ultrasound now anyway. It's driving me nuts not knowing what you look like and who you are. Will you look like him or me? Love basketball or cheerleading? Love cinnabons or…" she exhaled and bent over to slip her sketch book into her backpack. "Whatever you are – whoever you turn out to be – one thing's for sure: I'll love you. I already love you. And you know what? No matter what that no good grandmother of yours or anyone else does to us, nobody can change that. Got it?"

Soon a peculiar feeling developed in her stomach, similar to the fluttering or air bubble-like sensation she'd been feeling for a while, but stronger: an actual kick. Brooke wrapped both arms around her belly and reveled in the sensation. "You're the first person in my family to ever tell me that."