Author's note: Thank you to Guest, NotMarge, Rasha007, NicoleR85, partygirl98, Luna von Rae, Jedi DC of Marvel, and ZabuzasGirl for the reviews! I'm glad you guys liked that one, I was a little worried about it. Also, special thank you to Rasha007 for doing some digging for me on the HCA- cancer link :-) Luna- no DOFP, I'm going somewhere different. Hopefully you guys will still like it though!

For today's chapter- I couldn't help it, I had to give Hank a Jaguar as a nod to Nicholas Hoult's car commercials. I can't help smiling whenever they're on because they're so cheesy! And am I the only one who feels like Hoult stole the glasses from his X-Men costume...?

Jealousy

"Hank?"

I blinked away the sleep that had begun to steal over me. "Yes, my love?"

We were laying in bed together several months later- almost a year since we wed. Zoey's head was on my chest, one of her legs tangled in mine as she pressed tightly against my side. She had to cuddle with me like that, or else Sydney's chubby self would try to inveigle his way in between us like some sort of feline chastity belt.

For now he was snuggled up against Zoey's other side, jealously guarding her. I knew cats didn't really have facial expressions, but he always seemed angry when he looked at me nowadays. Sydney used to sleep in Zoey's arms like a teddy bear at night, and now he hated me for usurping his position.

Lucie and Charlie had been more enthusiastic and accepting of me permanently moving into their territory. Lucie liked to sleep on my pillow, right next to my head, and Charlie slept at my feet. I think he liked that I could scratch behind his ears with my finger-toes- I had four limbs for petting, instead of just two.

That's right, cat. I am your god.

Zoey's voice made me focus back on the present.

"I think we should buy you a new car."

"A new car?" I asked blankly. "What's wrong with the one I have?"

"Well..." she began hesitantly. "It's not really your car, is it? It sorta became yours by default."

She had a point there. The Bentley was actually Charles' car- I'd just been driving it for so long that it basically became mine. Now that I no longer lived at the Institute I only ever really drove it to and from work. Otherwise I drove us around in Zoey's Aston Martin.

Getting her to allow me do that had been a herculean effort in itself.

It caused the closest thing to an argument that we'd had since that night when I'd refused to show Zoey the Beast. We didn't really have "fights" the way other couples seemed to have- they were more mild disagreements than anything else. Both of us were much too easygoing and logical to devolve into name-calling or grudge-holding.

But Zoey's car, unbeknownst to me, had been a touchy subject.

The Bentley was in the shop for a tune up when she suggested that we go into the City for dinner one night, not long after we got home from the honeymoon.

"Sure," I agreed. "I'll drive, if you'd like."

Zoey's daily commute was much longer than mine, so I honestly thought I was doing her a favor by offering a break from driving.

She frowned and clutched at her keys, immediately making me confused.

"What? You don't want me to drive your car?"

I'd meant it as a joke, but Zoey's face only became more cloudy. I immediately felt wounded.

"Why not?"

"Because it's my car," she muttered mulishly. "You don't appreciate that car the way I do."

On one hand, I could see her point- to me, the only prerequisites for an automobile were four wheels and a working engine. The attributes Zoey drooled over were inconsequential to me.

But on the other...

"I'll give you that, but don't you trust me? I mean, my reflexes are faster than yours, if you're worried about me crashing the Aston Martin," I reasoned.

"Of course I trust you," Zoey replied. "It's just..."

She trailed off, shrugging unhelpfully.

I felt a spark of irritation over her reticence. Weren't married couples supposed to talk these issues out? I had thought we were past evasiveness.

"Zoey... I know I make less money than you, but you were the one who said we weren't going to delineate between our salaries and possessions," I told her, trying (and failing) to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "No 'yours, mine, and ours,' remember?"

Now she looked guilty- like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"That's not fair," she said, her voice taking on a petulant tone.

"How is it not fair?"

A pause.

"My dad gave me that car," Zoey explained quietly.

I exhaled heavily.

Talk about unfair. She pulled out the "dead father" card.

"Never mind then," I conceded stiffly, shaking my head. I couldn't argue with a sentimental attachment like that. "I understand."

"Hank-"

"Sweetheart, it's fine."

Zoey sighed. "No, it isn't. You're right- we're a team now. What's mine is yours, too. Here," she said, offering me the keys. It still looked like someone was trying to pull her teeth out, despite her acquiescence. "But if you hurt my- I mean, our baby, I'll-"

"Put my clothes out on the curb and set them on fire?" I joked. "Yes, I know."

"I was going to say that I'd feel completely justified in buying the new DBS that's coming out, but that works too," she replied, only half-teasing.

"I can agree to that," I told her, chuckling.

Relief swept over both of us, I think, because the disagreement had been resolved.

"Come here," Zoey urged, her eyes suddenly smoldering. She made a beckoning motion with one hand and gave me an inviting, alluring smile. "That almost felt like a fight, and now we need to go make up."

"But dinner-?" I asked, though I stepped closer anyway. I couldn't help it- she was irresistible to me.

Why are you arguing? Moron.

"Can wait," she finished, pulling me by the hand towards our bedroom.

And then we found out just how much fun "making up" could be.

"Ok, you want me to return the Bentley and get a new car," I said now, months later. "Did you already have one in mind?"

Like I even need to ask.

"The new Jaguar E-Type," Zoey replied happily.

"I see. Are you sure I'm going to be the one driving this car?"

She pouted. "Yes, of course. What do you take me for?"

"Just the prettiest gear head I've ever seen," I told her, kissing her hair.

I felt her skin warm in the dark, a sure sign that she was blushing.

"Oh, Hank. You always say the sweetest things."

The next weekend Zoey eagerly dragged me to the luxury car dealership, and I let her. I knew better than to quibble over price at this point- we truly were well-off enough that even a luxury import wouldn't set us back much. And if it made her happy for me to drive a fancy car, then drive a fancy car I would.

She could hardly wait for me to open the car door for her when we arrived. Once she was out she linked her arm with mine and walked us towards the Jaguar Cars, Ltd. section. We didn't make it far before we were intercepted by a slick-looking salesman.

"Can I help you?" the unctuous man asked, his eyes darting between us.

It seemed like he couldn't decide who to speak to- me (the male, who therefore supposedly should know about cars), or the beautiful woman on my arm. His admiration was evident as he looked at Zoey.

I immediately felt a tremor of possessiveness, a warning hiss in the back of my head from Beast. Did this man really have to give my wife the "once-over" right in front of me? Or was I just too insignificant to matter? I tried to tamp down the slimy feeling in my chest, without much success.

Zoey glanced up at me, the question evident in her eyes. I nodded reluctantly.

You like her now, Mr. Salesman? Wait until she drops her car knowledge on you.

"Yes, you can," she said happily. "My husband and I are looking for a Jaguar E-Type 2+2 coupe."

He blinked. "W-what year?"

"1969. I know the seats are different, but I want you to be comfortable," Zoey replied, looking up at me with a loving smile. "Power steering and air conditioning too, please. Is it true that they changed the cam covers on the Series II-?"

I think the man- his name turned out to be Jim- was in love with her by the time she said "power steering," just as I thought he would be. He tripped all over himself showing Zoey the one E-Type they had on site, leaning uncomfortably close to point out the dashboard features as she sat in the driver's seat. Meanwhile, I stood off to the side feeling useless and trying to contain my jealousy over another man fawning over my wife.

It got very difficult when he boldly used one hand to brush her curls back over her shoulder, ignoring the way she shied away from the overly-familiar gesture.

I almost reached out and broke his wrist, but settled for a pointed cough to remind him I hadn't miraculously disappeared.

Seeing another man touch her made my vision blur, the metallic, burning taste of rage fill my mouth and frissons of energy course through my limbs. I hadn't felt such an overwhelming fury in a very long time. Keeping calm was almost impossible when Zoey was involved.

"You alright?" she asked, as Jim ran to see the list price for the car. He was completely unaware of the violence I was contemplating towards him.

"He likes you too much," I muttered through gritted teeth.

If he touches you again, I'll tear his arm off.

"He's being a salesmen," Zoey agreed, scrunching up her nose in distaste. "He's so oily if I threw him in a bathtub he'd float to the top."

I was startled into a laugh, but the moment of levity quickly passed as I thought again of how Jim looked at her. Her dismissive attitude towards the man was rather soothing, though.

"Are you feeling jealous?" Zoey asked, her expression shocked.

I shrugged. Suddenly my shoes were much too interesting to meet her gaze.

"Oh, Hank," she murmured, slipping her arms around my neck. She stood on tiptoe to kiss me. "There's no competition for you, anywhere. Ever."

Her words worked their way into my soul, assuaging my animosity. I relaxed a little.

"Now watch me 'CEO' that man into the worst deal of his life," Zoey said darkly, a dangerous gleam in her eyes that actually turned me on a little.

Am I crazy for that? Eh. Oh well.

And sure enough, she made good on her word. I don't think a Jaguar had ever sold for less before then, or since.