Hello lovelies. It's been a while. Paris time. Also, this chapter is pretty M-rated. So if smut and sexy time isn't you thing, skip to the AN at the end, to see what happened. To those who brave on - happy reading.

"It's freezing!" She exclaims, as she steps closer to him, wrapping both her arms around his elbow, as his hand rests in his coat pocket. She huffs, and a cloud of white steam stretches from her lips into the unknown of the cold December night. "How is it this cold?" And she leans on him, resting her head on the side of his wide arm.

He chuckles, before taking his hand out of his pocket and reaching for hers, "Gimme." She lays it onto his palm, and he brings them both to his lips. He blows hot air, and she laughs, with childish resonance.

"That tickles." She says, a little breathlessly, as she picks up her pace to keep up with his. He brings their hands back down into his pocket, and she instantly starts to relax as warmth spreads through her body, from the very tips of her fingers, to the valley of her palm and the translucent gentility of her wrist, up her arm, down her sides; until it's warming up her insides, and calming her thumping heart. "How do you always make everything better?" She asks earnestly, as she snuggles her head deeper into his shoulder; leaning on him completely, as they make their way down the deserted cobbled street.

"Because I love you." He says simply. She smiles, it's the perfect answer.

"Yes, you do." She says gingerly, dragging it out, letting the vowels fall off her lips and melt into the frisk air. "I love you to." She says with a small giggle. "A lot. Like a lot, a lot. Like I'd let you have the last piece of that chocolate cheesecake that my mom used to make. If you wanted it, I would totally give you the cheesecake."

"Totally?" He questions, amused, as he tightens his grip on her.

"Yeah." She says through a soft laugh. "I think I'm a little bit drunk."

"I think you're more than a little bit drunk." He says, as he looks down at her, his eyes filled with love.

"Hey…" She says sternly, then stops, seemingly distracted. "How are your eyes that blue. I mean it's dark. Like, really dark. And they're still shiny. Shiny, shiny. Like little disco balls."

He laughs, and mutters, "Too much wine," under his breath.

She catches it, and says seriously, "It was very good wine. Very, very good French wine. In France. It was very good French wine in France. And well… once we start trying, I'm going to be off-wine, any wine, even crappy wine, for a while, so I figured I'd better make the most of it now." She doesn't register him tense up, doesn't register his quick glance. She trips, the combination of five inch heels, cobbled street cloaked in darkness, and wine that is coursing through her blood and invading her mind; apparently too much. He pulls her up, catches her, before she even starts to fall, and she smiles, looking up, "Maybe a little bit too much wine."

She wakes up slowly, consciousness washing over her like lazy waves that crawl up the sand on quiet, still mornings, disappearing and retreating, before sneaking up again, reaching a little bit farther, staying a little bit longer. Her head is pounding, every vessel thumping in unison. The pulsing makes it impossible to think, and the harsh morning sun makes it impossible for her to open her eyes. She turns to her side, and feels the bed for him, if only, if only she could bury her head deep in the crook of his neck, into the darkness and comfort that it holds. But the bed is empty and cold, so she turns on her stomach and disappears under the pillow. She drifts off again, her arm outstretched to where his body usually lies.

She feels the mattress shift and she smiles as he lays a soft kiss on her shoulder.

"Morning."

She pushes the pillow off her head, and looks up at him, a pair of bright eyes smiling at him through a curtain of sleek black hair. "Morning."

"How are you?" He asks as he strokes her cheek with his finger.

She leans into it, cherishing the warmth of the familiar touch. "Better than the first time I woke up," she says groggily, as she turns on to her back, letting the white sheet slip, exposing her bare breast. He swallows hard, then kisses her nose, before lying down next to her. She eyes him suspiciously, before running her fingers through his hair, letting her nails scrape his scalp lightly. He looks at her and smiles, but it's a small smile, a small kindness, a show of love rather than happiness. And then she remembers. "This is about the thing I said about us trying, isn't it?"

He looks at her, and she can tell he's thinking, debating what to say. He settles on just nodding his head. "You think I said it because I was drunk, and I forgot all about it, and you're not sure how to bring it up." He smiles again, this time it's wider, no longer a courtesy, but a necessity.

"How do you..?" He asks in wonder, his voice laced with love.

"Because I love you." She says as she runs her hand down the back of his head, and starts playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "I didn't say it because of the wine, or because the last three days have been like a dream and I'd give you the world now, if you asked for it; I said it because I want it. I want another baby."

"Are you-"

"Of course I'm sure. It's not a car that we can return if we don't like. And I know, I know it hasn't been very long since mom died, I get that I'm supposed to be mourning and that you may think that this is me coping, and maybe it is, but I do want it. I know that I want it. I feel that I want it. I mean, Zo will be graduating next year if she has anything to do with it, Nur is old enough. We have the space, we have the money… we have the love."

"We do have the love." He says, his voice low, the tone he knows makes her tremble.

He pushes the sheet lower, exposing her other breast. Her breathing picks up as he drags his hand slowly over her heated flesh. "We can't start…" And she inhales sharply as he ghosts his hand over center. He bends over her, letting his lips hover just above hers, as he drags his finger along her slit. She bucks her hips, desperate for his touch, for relief that it brings.

"We can't what?" He whispers in her ear, his voice deep.

"I… IUD." She says breathily. She trails her hand down his body instinctually, wrapping her fingers around his throbbing member. And he groans at her grip, as her thumb tenderly circles his tip. And then it's primal, carnal; it's familiar touch that still lights their skin on fire, brings their souls to life; it's caresses that make them moan, whisper each other's names like prayers, until their hearts are beating out of their chests, until all they know is feverish grip that will leave bruises; and more, more, always more, faster and deeper; until a single sensation overtakes their body, until they disappear in it, a moment of eternity; a slice of infinity. And it feels like nothing will ever, nothing can ever, feel as good as this; and then they're crashing, and falling – together.

And she falls on top of him, her chest to his, their bodies, exhausted, limp, but sated. She hears his heart slow down, the beats become more even under her ear. He doesn't pull out, not straight away, and they both cherish it – the few extra moments of being connected in the most intimate of ways.

"I think I want to stay like this forever." He mumbles, as he lets his hands lazily roam her body.

"It might get a bit awkward around the kids." She says, her voice muffled by his chest.

"Funny!" And he starts tickling her sides playfully. And she laughs, loudly, uncontrollably, no inhibitions, complete openness of two lovers who've seen each other at their worst, who've loved as much at the darkest of times; as they have at during the happiest moments of their lives. They know each other's souls, intimately, better than their own. And she tries to get out of his grip, but he holds her tight, and they roll on their sides. She manages to her hands between their heated bodies and tickle him, and it distracts him, distracts him enough for her to turn around, and bring her face to his; her lips to his. And momentarily they disappear in a kiss; in their tongues moving slowly past the familiar lips, scraping the teeth, moaning as they touch the tender tips. And she's throwing her leg over his hip and kneading his ass with one hand, as she fists him with another. And he's whispering her name as he enters her, and yet again the earthly reality dissipates as they gasp for air.

/

"We should go explore." He says, barely mustering enough energy to speak.

"I don't think I can walk." She says with a soft giggle, as she lets her fingers play with the wiry hair on his chest.

"Yeah, me neither." He says, as he kisses the top of her head. "I'm hungry." He whines, as he snuggles closer to her.

"Yeah, we're not-" She says with a serious face.

"Oh, God not!" He exclaims, his eyes wide.

"Thanks." She says in an icy tone, with a plastered smile, but makes no attempt to move out of his embrace.

"Livvie…" He whispers sweetly, trying desperately not to grin at her antics, "I love you, and I find you incredibly attractive, and you feel so good and you taste so good, but I literally cannot move.

"Alright." She says, pouting her lips. "I just… I mean, how are we going to handle a baby and a toddler then? If we can't handle a bit of sex?" And she grins, daring.

"You will be the end of me." He growls, as he flips her on her stomach in one swift motion. She feels his hand trail the bare skin of her back. He traces her spine, running small circles around every vertebra. He kisses each spot softly, as his hands make their way down her body. He lays another kiss, right above her tailbone, before drawing a line with his tongue, back up to her neck, grazing his teeth gently against the skin between her shoulder blades. She shivers. She can't think straight, and there doesn't seem to be enough air. She turns around, and flips them over, with a small giggle as surprise flashes across his face. She slides down his body, leaving a trail of wet kisses, each of them a love letter, to his chest, to each of his ribs, to his abs, his hips, and his navel. She takes him in her mouth and swirls her tongue around his shaft, he groans, throwing his head back as she lets him out with a loud pop. She sits up again, straddling his thighs. She traces his hips with her fingertips as she moves her other hand down her body, until her fingers are grazing her clit lightly. And she can see him getting harder with each movement of her fingers, with every slide of her hips; she can see him twitch. She smiles, her eyes never leaving his; and he watches her, mesmerized.

"Livvie…" He chokes out, his voice hoarse.

"Yes?" She asks calmly, as she picks up the pace, and runs her other hand slowly along his shaft.

"I need you to-" He inhales sharply, as she wraps her hand around his length and dips her fingers in her center.

"Yes?" She ask again; struggling to keep her voice calm and her own desire in check. She is enjoying this too much, the control she has over him, to let it slip.

"Suck my dick." And she smirks at the breathiness, the neediness of his words. She slides lower and bends down, gliding her tongue along his shaft, before taking him in, all of him. She can feel him pulsing against the flat of her tongue and she hums. She keeps going, using her hands to squeeze and massage as her soft lips suck. She picks up her pace, as he starts thrusting his hips, and she moves one of her hands to her slit. She slides her fingers in, in the same rhythm in which her head is moving, as her thumb presses into her clit. And he's reaching for her shoulders and she hollows her cheeks, as the tip of her tongue runs along his shaft, and he's exploding, spilling his seeds deep in her throat. And she keeps going, until he softens completely in her mouth. She sits up, her hand moving between her sticky thighs, but then he pushes her on her back, and adds his own hand to hers. And it's too much, too good, as he adds pressure, as he sucks on her neck, nibbles on her ear, his free hand twisting her nipple. And she arches her back, as heat spreads though her body, from the very pit of her stomach, to her toes and her fingertips, as her muscles clench rightly around her slender fingers.

Their breathing steadies as their bodies lie lifelessly on the entangled pillows and sheets.

"You still worried about us handing the baby?" He asks with a smirk, his eyes closed.

"Well…" She trails off seductively.

"Do not even think about it." He says without looking at her. He just throws his arm over her midsection lazily. They let comfortable silence settle over them, as their interlaced fingers rest on her abdomen.

She speaks after a while, the vulnerability in her voice breaking him out of his own thoughts, "What if..." And she trails off, unable to finish the sentence, to voice her fears. He turns to his side and looks at her, as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Why are you worried?" He asks as he caresses her cheek with his knuckles.

"I just…With Nur, we were younger, and we weren't trying, and it just… it happened. What if now, what if we can't?"

"Don't do this." He whispers as he bends down and brushes his nose against hers. "Don't freak out over this, before we even begin. Don't stress yourself out Livvie. We'll try, and we'll keep trying until we get it right. And if we don't…" and he trails off, painfully aware of her watchful gaze, "If we can't, we'll figure out something else. We are going to have a baby, and he or she is going to be amazing."

"Promise?" She asks, her eyes looking for signs of uncertainty on his face.

"I promise." He says. And as she snuggles in his arms he prays, to whoever might have the power in the universe, to whoever might be holding the cosmic scales, to give them this one thing; grant them this one wish. Because he thinks, fears, deep inside, below the certainty and confidence, that if this doesn't happen, if they don't have a baby – they won't survive it. The thing about happiness, bliss – it's ethereal; it can be gone in a blink, with a single minus sign imprinted on a stick. She's lost too much, too young; her losses are in her past, and she can't handle a loss of possibility, a loss of a future they imagined. He holds her tighter, close to his body; he lets his arms engulf her petite frame.

He protects. He prays.

As the sun begins to settle, she stirs. "We should go out." Her tone is drowsy, she slurs her words.

"We should stay in bed." He says in protest, pulling her closer.

"We need to buy presents." She reasons, as she snuggles her head deeper into the crook of his neck.

"It's the 21st century. There is literally nothing they have in Paris that we can't get in New York."

"That's not the point." She says, as she rubs her nose against his shoulder muscle.

"We can get stuff at the airport." He tries, one last time.

"But we'll always know that we got them crappy airport gifts."

"Fine." He mumbles into her hair. He tries to slip out of bed, but she tightens her hold on him, and lets out a grunt in protest.

"Livvie…"

"Five more minutes." And he smiles, as he settles back down.

Five minutes go by. And another five. And an hour, and two. And small snowflakes waltz through the winter air, as Christmas lights illuminate the endless city. They're asleep, dreaming of chubby cheeks with her eyes and his crooked smile.

They found love.

How was that for happy?

So they're going to start trying for a baby! Now, most of you know me well enough to know that that does not mean there'll be a little angel in their arms in two chapters. It's about the journey, right?!

Let me know your thoughts and hopes... as those of you who read Grow Up now, I am susceptible to peer pressure. I also happen to adore your reviews.

Until the next time... keep on reading on :)