A/N: I wanted to get this out about last weekend, but I went to Canada for a hockey tournament, and couldn't get on my computer before I left...then I had another hockey thing this past weekend...I'm just procrastinating on a paper right now.

Mad and Wicked thanks to my two reviewers Phantom Creedy Lover and DeceptiveKindness (yes, Rich is very sexy! ;P). You guys made my day!...days really.

And now on with the story.

In the bathroom, I set James down, then filled the tub with warm water. As the tub filled up, I helped James out of his soaking wet clothes, tossing them in the sink.

"Okay, up, over, and in," I said once the tub was full, taking off my hoodie.

James lifted his arms up to me, so I picked him up, and placed him in the tub. I turned to open the cabinet under the sink and took out James' bath toys, which consisted of a boat, a rubber duck, and some rubbery figurines. Setting the boat near the edge of the water, I gently pushed it towards him, then did the same with the rubber duck. With the figurines, I just set them on the edge of the tub until he wanted them.

As he was splashing around and making noises with the toys, I washed his hair, being careful not to get the soap in his eyes.

"Head back and close your eyes," I instructed so I could dump some water on his head to get the soap out.

When James was done playing in the water, I drained the tub, and he watched as the toys swirled in the whirlpool of the draining water.

"Mummy, save my toys!" he yelled with worry, pointing to them.

"It's all right, James, they're too big to fit down the drain," I explained, but grabbed them all anyway.

I put the toys back under the sink, then took his towel off the rack, tossing it on his head. He giggled and as I picked him up, he giggled more. I wrapped the towel around him, then put my hoodie back on and took him down the hall to his room.

Setting him on the edge of his bed, I went to his dresser, and took out some clean clothes.

James was still sitting with the towel over his head, lightly kicking his feet against the side of the bed, when I turned around. I snuck up on him from the other side of the bed, and lightly poked him in the back. When he went to turn to look for me, I ducked down, then when his feet started kicking again, I jumped up on his bed, pulled him down and tickled him.

James was laughing loudly and started thrashing about, so I relented, letting him catch his breath.

"Okay, now?" I asked him once he calmed down.

He nodded, so I go off the bed, and helped him into his clean, dry clothes.

"I'm cold," he said softly.

"Come here," I said, opening my arms to him.

He walked into me, so I picked him up, and held him close to my body. I walked back down the stairs and into the sitting room. The fire was roaring now, so I sat on the ledge with him cradled on my lap. James was shivering a little, so I pulled him closer to me and wrapped my arms around him as best I could to preserve his body heat, then rocked him gently.

About a minute or so later, Rich walked into the room. I looked up at him and he grinned at us.

"Could you bring a blanket over here, please? He's shivering," I asked him quietly. "Are the dishes clean now?"

"Yes," Rich replied, then grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and brought it over to us, laying it on top of James. He then sat down next to me, by James' feet.

I smiled at him, then looked down at our son. He had stopped shivering and closed his eyes. I stopped rocking him as I realized he was falling asleep. Rich put his arm around my shoulders and we sat there until James fell asleep.

When James finally nodded off, I looked at Rich, who took the blanket off us.

"Can I change out of this shirt now? It's making me cold," Rich complained.

"Not yet. Let me get him upstairs, then we'll remedy that," I answered in a whisper, grinning at him.

Rich smirked, looking at me with a look of hunger in his eyes.

I stood up from the ledge, holding onto James, then carried him back upstairs to his room. With one hand, I pulled his quilt down enough so I could slide him under. Pulling the quilt back up, and placing Zeke next to him, I kissed his forehead, then left the room, closing the door a little behind me.

Going back down to the sitting room (man, I was getting a lot of exercise), Rich was still sitting in front of the fire.

"You know, the longer you take, the more my shirt dries," he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Well, I'm here and there shouldn't be any interruptions for a while," I grinned, sitting on the couch. "Come over here."

Rich stood from the ledge and walked towards me. He moved the coffee table a few inches further away from the couch, then stood in front of me. Looking up at him, I smirked, then stood from the couch.

Our eyes locked and I reached for the edge of his sweater. Lifting it slightly, I ran my hands over his stomach, never losing eye contact with him, and making him shiver. My hands drifted back to the edge of the shirt, where I lifted it up and over his head (he pulled his arms out of it when I lifted it) and let it drop to the floor. I then let my hands slide back down his shoulders, over his pecks, and then his stomach again before letting them fall to my sides.

Rich then reached up for the zipper on my hoodie and pulled it down. His hands slid up my sides to my shoulders and pushed the hoodie off and down my arms, where it joined his shirt on the floor.

Quite suddenly, his arms wrapped around my shoulders and he kissed me passionately, making me gasp into his mouth out of surprise. My arms wrapped around to his back and, somehow, he maneuvered me until the back of my leg hit the couch, making me fall onto it...and Rich on top of me. We continued to kiss, hands going everywhere, until I heard a thump from upstairs...then another thump.

I turned my head away from Rich, and as soon as I did, he picked his head up to look down at me. Ignoring him, I stared at the ceiling trying to hear something else.

"What is it?" Rich whispered, panting slightly.

"I heard someth..." I started, then stopped mid-word as I heard James start crying. "Tonight, for sure."

"I'll hold you to it," he growled lightly, then kissed me before letting me up.

"I'm sorry, Rich," I apologized softly, standing from the couch.

Rich took my hand, and kissed it understandingly, then I quickly walked out of the room and up the stairs to James' room.

When I got to his room, I looked in and saw him sitting on the floor, holding his head, and wrapped in his blankets...still crying. I went in and kneeled next to him.

"James, sweetie, what happened?" I asked, rubbing his back.

"I-I-I fell," he said, in between tears.

"Did you hit your head?"

"Yeah," he whimpered.

I sighed quietly, then pulled the blankets from around him. Picking him up, I took his hand away from his head, and kissed where he was holding, letting my lips linger there for a few long moments; I could feel a bump starting to form. When I stopped kissing him, his crying slowed, reducing him to sobs.

As I walked around the room, with him in my arms, in an attempt to get him to calm and fall asleep again, he rested his head on my shoulder. I rubbed his back again, as his sobbing lessened more.

"What happened?"

I turned to the door to see Rich standing in the frame...a new, dry shirt on him.

"He fell off the bed, hitting his head," I answered.

Rich walked over to us, standing at my side so he could look James in the eye. He put his hand on James' back, just below the nape of his neck.

"Does your head hurt?" he asked, gently, tilting his head down to be level with James.

"Yeah," James replied in another whimper.

Rich moved his hand from James' back to the top of his head, petting him in a sense. I glanced over at him and saw his brow furrow when his hand stopped...he must have found where he hit his head. His hand slid to James' back again, and leaned down to kiss his head. When he pulled back slightly, he looked at me.

"Ice?" he asked.

"Maybe just a little," I said.

"All right, I'll be right back," he said to me, then looked at James before taking his hand away, and walking out of the room.

As Rich walked away, James's sobs diminished, and he was taking short, quick breaths. He was going to have the hiccups then pass out if he wasn't careful.

"James, take deeper breaths, honey. You're going to get hiccups," I told him, leaning my head against his.

He attempted to take deeper breaths as I walked over to the rocking chair, near the window. Before I sat down, I shifted the way I was holding James, cradling him, so he could rest comfortably on my lap. I rocked the chair and hummed to him as his breathing returned to normal, with the occasional shorter breath.

He had closed his eyes to try to sleep again. He must have had a headache, also, given the expression on his face: his eyes shut tight and slightly frowning.

Several seconds later, Rich came back into the room, and back over to us; he carried a small bag of ice. Kneeling down next to the chair, I stopped rocking, and he placed and held the ice on James' head.

James opened his eyes and looked up at me before he tried to look for his father, just out of his eye sight.

"How does your head feel now?" Rich asked, leaning over him. With his free hand, he brushed some of James' hair away from his eyes.

"Better," James answered softly, then closed his eyes again. He then curled up on his side, snuggling into me, as he prepared to fall asleep.

Rich leaned back, still holding the ice to James, and stared at me. I knew what he was thinking.

'I'm fine,' I mouthed.

How many times have I said that in the past two days...?

He raised an eyebrow, asking silently if I was sure.

I nodded once, with a grin, then looked back down on my son. Bringing my right hand up (since his head was on my left arm), I lightly ran a finger over his eyebrow. When he didn't try to struggle to get away, I knew he was sleeping again.

Rich took the ice away from his head, setting it on the window ledge, and I stood from the chair with James still snuggled against me. I carried him over to his bed and gently laid him down, while Rich picked the blankets off the floor. He then put them on James, tucking him in.

As Rich fixed James' blankets (and made sure Zeke was at his side), I grabbed the melting ice before it did something to the wooden ledge, and left the room. I took the ice down to the kitchen and dumped it in the sink. Leaning against the counter, I looked out the window above the sink.

A/N: That was a bad place to stop. Sorry, but I didn't want to make it too long.

More soon! And keep those reviews coming! ;D