authors note: so, I am very, very sorry that I am terrible at updating in a timely manner. This semester, I hope to get my time management a little bit more under control so that I have a little bit more time to focus on fanfiction (also known as free time to relax so that I don't go completely and totally insane). Classes start tomorrow, so wish me luck with this plan!

I know that you don't particularly care about my life story, so I hope you like the chapter and PLEASE leave feedback so that I know you still care about this story! I hope you like it!


Addison awoke the following morning before Mark, which was unsurprising given that she had fallen asleep long before he had. She was disoriented at first, and even more confused as to why it was that Mark Sloan was sleeping in the bed with her—and fully clothed, at that. Slowly she began to remember the events of the previous night. She slapped his arm, effectively waking him up,

"Ow, what was that for?" She grinned crookedly at him,

"I don't know. Seemed like he thing to do at the time." He rolled his eyes,

"So are you feeling any better?" She nodded energetically and he was taken aback by the seemingly sudden shift in her attitude, but made no comments about it—it wasn't like he was complaining. Out of the blue, she smiled and kissed him quickly on the nose before giggling softly. By this point, Mark was completely confused, but he decided to just go with it for the moment. It didn't seem like she was faking her sudden happiness, and even if she was, he would eventually pick up on it and he could call her out on it later.

Before Mark even knew what was going on, Addison had hopped out of the bed and begun to strip on front of him, before going into the bathroom and turning on the shower. He wasn't exactly sure whether or not she wanted him to join her in the shower or had just not really been paying attention to what she was doing, but a couple of minutes later when she emerged with a wicked smile on her face, he knew exactly what she wanted, and was more than willing to oblige. He shucked his clothing and approached the now slightly damp woman who stood in the threshold between the bedroom and the bathroom. He placed his hands on her hips, lowering his face to hers, leaning in to kiss her lightly before moving his mouth to her ear and whispering "are you sure?" She took his hands in hers, leading them up to her breasts before replying,

"Absolutely." Her response almost seemed more a growl than a word, but he didn't particularly mind…at all. One of her hands snuck down to the sensitive area between his legs without him noticing until suddenly she was stroking his shaft, teasing. His hips bucked slightly, and on that note he dragged her into the bathroom, pulling them both underneath the hot flow. While he was not at all objecting to the sex, he found it strange that she had yet to kiss him. Generally she was one of those women who almost liked kissing more than sex. Almost.

Pushing the concern aside for a moment, he rubbed his hands up and down her sides gently, allowing his fingernails to run along her skin every now and again, watching the gooseflesh rise all of her body, her nipples hardening and darkening. She shivered slightly, involuntarily and he laughed slightly, pulling her into his arms, and thus more directly under the flow of water.

He waited for her to make the first move, not wanting to assume anything or cause her any pain, no matter how insignificant, because he still didn't trust that she was completely okay. Unexpectedly, she laid her head down on his shoulder, wrapping her arms more tightly around him. He rubbed her back gently and asked her what she wanted. She lifted her large blue eyes to his hopefully,

"Don't ever leave me." He chuckled, putting a little distance between their torsos, cupping her face in his hands.

"I never have." He placed a sweet, tender kiss upon her slightly pouting lips as a single tear escaped her right eye. She clasped her hands to the back of his head, crushing their lips together passionately, as though she were apologizing for every mistake, with urgency as though this might be the last time she ever saw him again. He reciprocated her passion easily, getting harder. Wanting to reassure her, he slipped his hands between her slick folds, one rubbing fast circles on her clitoris, the other pumping two fingers swiftly in and out of her. His mouth played with her nipples, sucking, biting and swirling to elicit deep, guttural moans. She moaned, her hips bucking against him until she screamed her release, falling against him somewhat limply. He kissed her neck, gently skimming his teeth over the sensitive, flushed surface of her skin. After she had recovered enough, he pushed her up against the wall, lifted her off the floor, and he slid into her gently, both moaning slightly at the contact. She had her legs wrapped tightly around him, as if afraid that if she loosened her grip, he might disappear. She took a little longer than usual to adjust to having him within her, he noted, but quickly pushed the thought out of his head, beginning to grind their hips together, thrusting at first gently, tenderly, then increasing his speed slowly. She squirmed beneath him, attempting to make him hurry, but he would not relent, instead set on putting as much love into the act as possible. He had almost reached his orgasm when her muscles tightened around him, pushing him over the edge as they exploded together.

He let her down gently, and she wobbled, trying to grip the wall to prevent herself from falling, but almost before her hands reached the tile, his strong arms were wrapped protectively around her. He removed his arms slowly, making sure that she could stand on her own before lathering some soap on a pouf and gently washing her skin. She smiled tiredly, gratefully. He grinned, giving her a quick peck on the lips before turning her around to work on her back. She didn't seem as tight as she had previously, but there were still a few knots in her back that he noticed while washing, which he then eased away carefully, earning him a moan of approval. He kissed one of her shoulder blades before going about shampooing her hair. When he finished, he sensed that he was supporting most of her weight, and thus lifted her. She protested, telling him to put her down, but he refused. He dried her off gently, sliding one of the hotel's fluffy robes over her body and then putting her to bed again. She huffed like a child, insisting she wasn't tired, but by the time he finished showering himself, she was out like a light.

He sat beside her watching her sleep and stroking her still wet hair. He pressed a light kiss into her temple before changing. He pulled out his phone, checking for messages. Discovering he had none, he took out his laptop and looked up information on fertility problems. She had thrown around a bunch of terms and acronyms that he didn't quite understand, and he wanted to be on the same page as she was, or as close as possible.

While the information seemed positively dismal, it was not completely discouraging. There was still a spark of hope, if they acted in this minute, if they had enough sex, there was a very, very, very minute chance that this could work. Obviously, it was not enough of a chance to get one's hopes up about, however it was possible. Maybe if they simply had sex enough, she would end up getting pregnant without even thinking that it was possible. That seemed to be more the way to go—at least to Mark's way of thinking. The worst-case scenario could not disappoint a person if that person were programmed to expect the worst while hoping for the best.

Whether or not Addison was able to get pregnant did not at all affect the way that he felt about her. Children had never been at the forefront of his mind, but as soon as he had found out that she was pregnant with his child, his entire perspective on the matter shifted. He wanted nothing more than to have a child with the one woman that he had ever truly loved. Although he still had doubts about his potential abilities as a parent, not having had good parents himself (his father was abusive, his mother absent). He figured that he could use them as examples of what not to do, and he could always use Derek's parents as the ideal. What scared him more was the fact that he occasionally lost control of his temper. He had never really hurt anyone in one of these fits of rage (or, at least, not anyone who hadn't been deserving—there had been an issue with a would-be rapist whom he had beaten off of Addison on one occasion—an event that neither particularly cared to recall. Despite the fact that his therapist had constantly reminded him—and continued to remind him—of the fact that he was not his father, and he could control his rage, he still worried that he would slip into the same abusiveness that his father practiced, and that was not something that he wanted to risk. It was promising that he had never physically hurt anybody that he loved, and the fact that he was in therapy was also a very good thing in that he would never allow anything to progress should he have a lapse even once, but those irrational fears still pervaded his thoughts.

Mark was no longer afraid that he would fail her by being unfaithful. He had been unable to think of any other woman since she proposed the sixty days deal, or really anything at all other than her. He was serious this time—all that he wanted was her, if she wanted him too. If she was willing to give them as a couple a real chance, he could confidently say that he would want only her for the rest of his life.

He knew how badly Addison wanted children, how badly she had always wanted them, so he was dedicated to finding a way for her to have a child—whether with or without him. If she was just merely confused right now, or he was reading all of the signs wrong and she wasn't anywhere even near thinking about giving them a try, he still wanted her to be able to have what she wanted, and he still wanted to be one of her best friends, regardless of everything else.