Guilty Until Proven Innocent

by rachtree

Life's been good to Nathan Scott.Popularity,money,looks,talent & a beautiful g/f. Most boys only dream of such good fortune. Nate takes it as his due. Arrogant & often heartless,Peyton still sees good in him. Can she stick by him awaiting good to conquer bad?S1ish NP

129. Chapter 129

A/N: Here is part 1 of the epilogue. It takes place nearly two years after the end of the last chapter, and is quite long so I hope you enjoy. Sorry for the long wait. I don't have a great deal of time to write these days, but I try to write when I can, and I do promise I will not leave any story left incomplete. I will finish any story I start, even if it sometimes takes a while to update

...

He awoke with a stiff and aching neck from the couch he was beginning to hate with a fierce passion. The apartment they'd rented off campus—with his parents' money—two years ago had come furnished with this lumpy piece of furniture and Nathan fully understood why the last tenants had left it behind. In the two years they'd been using it, it was only getting worse. Now there were springs sticking out uncomfortably everywhere. He should know. He slept on it often enough while his wife spread out leisurely on their soft but firm queen size bed that barely fit in their tiny bedroom.

The bed they'd picked out and purchased themselves, again with the help of his parents who were willing to help as long as he remained in college.

Once, before their first wedding even, Nathan had told Peyton that he wouldn't mind being sent off to the couch whenever they had an argument, but that was no longer true. He did mind. Because they fought even more than either of them could have anticipated. Way more often than the often they figured they would. And his back and neck were paying the price thanks to this piece of shit lump of furniture in their living room. They needed a new one if they were going to keep fighting like this.

But it was hard here on their own as Nathan attended Duke University in Durham NC and Peyton worked at a small but prestigious recording studio in Raleigh NC as an assistant to the assistant. It had begun as an internship but she had since been promoted.

At first they'd been on top of the world. She had her internship and he had a full ride to Duke, and luck had stayed with them when they'd found this apartment in a small town called Morrisville in Wake County, dead center between Durham and Raleigh. With its population of just over 5,000, it was small, but perfect, and they'd thought they'd struck gold. The commute for both of them was about twenty minutes in opposite directions, and they weren't so far from Tree Hill that they couldn't go 'home' on any given weekend.

But the fights. God, the fights. They'd envisioned a life of ease and happiness out on their own, and when they didn't get it, both their unpredictable tempers soared to new heights.

The first year had been the worst. Nathan shone on the court but struggled academically even more than he ever did in high school, and Peyton struggled with the fact that working for a record label wasn't as glamorous and self-fulfilling as she'd thought it would be. Worse was that she had ideas to make it better for both the studio and the artists, but the higher ups didn't take advice from the lower levels like her. According to them she would have to learn to 'play the game' if she expected to make it in the music industry. That first year had been a bitter pill for them to swallow, and because they were both miserable and had nobody else to take it out on, serious fights ensued.

In that first year when all the pressures were so new and their visions all but shattered, she'd probably threatened divorce a dozen times and he took off to a local bar just as many. But not once had they broken up, and not once had he strayed, nor had she suspected him of it. In fact, there at Duke, he'd quickly become known as the hot guy not to bother hitting on because he was so devoted to his equally hot wife, despite their several all-out disagreements.

Through it all they'd learned to hold onto to each other with a fierce determination to stay together. They held on tighter than they ever had in the past. They fought and fought, then fought some more, but they loved stronger and refused to let each other go. They knew they wouldn't survive without the other. And in a weird way they were comfortable with the constant bickering. It was their familiar thing amid all the change. That something that had stayed the same.

This second year was proving to be better. They still argued, and the pressures and disappointments were the same, but they were older, wiser, and expected the hardships now. Now they put to good use the skills they'd acquired to hold on to each other as though their lives depended on it.

They figured it was probably the marriage vows that saved them. Both sets of them. It wasn't so easy to give up and walk away when they considered those vows they'd made twice and completely meant. Maybe that's why they fought so much harder to keep their love alive.

And it was alive. No matter how much they griped and came to blows, when things were good, they were heaven. No one had ever found out about their first set of marriage vows, and that was something they both cherished to this very day. Their second wedding had happened after graduation as planned, and though it was beautiful and satisfying to have everyone there, their first wedding held an extra special place in their hearts that belonged to them alone.

But of course the second one had been nice too. Nathan had ended up drunkenly asking Luke to stand in the wedding, but then again, in the same frame of mind, he'd also asked Mouth, Jake and Tyler. And because he hadn't been willing to renege on any of them, Peyton had laughingly been forced to choose three other girls to stand for her so that they were equal. So, on Nathan's side had been Cooper as best man, and Tim, Lucas, Jake, Mouth and Tyler as groomsmen, and on Peyton's side had been Brooke as maid of honor, and Rachel, Haley, Ellie, Bevin, and Teresa as bride's maids. They'd both found it incredibly comical to have such an enormous party for the second wedding compared to the complete solitude of their first. What could they say? They enjoyed both privacy and popularity.

Their sex life had also gone back to normal, as though there never had been a Damien West to temporarily dampen it. Neither of them thought of Damien very often anymore, especially in their blissfully happy moments.

And there were plenty of those before, after, and in between their moments of temper and fury. Again, when they were good, they were good, and nobody could burst that happy bubble they were in except themselves which, of course, they often did.

Yes, they'd come far, but they still had a long way to go. They sometimes wondered if they'd ever get it right to the point where they didn't argue for at least a week. Where they didn't take their daily frustrations out on each other.

Nathan figured it would all get better if he could get drafted to the NBA because it would cut out half their problems right there. He wouldn't have to worry about grades. And they'd have enough money that Peyton could do something, anything, else she liked better than her current job. Maybe even open her own record label as Brooke had suggested to her last year. He knew Peyton hadn't been able to get that idea out of her head ever since their best friend mentioned it.

But it took money to open a studio. Money they didn't have because he'd neither been drafted yet nor would his trust fund kick in till he was twenty-one. And he couldn't ask his parents for more. They were already paying for almost all their living expenses. Her parents sent what they could when they could, but it wasn't much nor often.

So for now, they were stuck. It was a good thing they were stuck together or they might have both given up by now.

Nathan stood from the couch and stretched his body, prepared to go apologize to his girl. He wasn't quite sure how the argument had gotten so out of control, or even what it was about in the first place, but he knew it was something small, insignificant, that one or both of them had blown out of proportion due to their barely contained and overwrought emotions. They'd both said things, thrown their stones, but now the anger had died—or his had he knew—and he was ready to make up.

He walked in their bedroom to find her sitting up in bed, and before he could say anything, she blurted out an apology.

He grinned boyishly—that grin she simply adored. "You stole my line," he teased. "That's what I was coming to say."

She smiled at him. "I know. But last night was my fault," she admitted sheepishly. "I had a horrible day at work and I took it out on you."

"Is that what happened?" he asked lightly. "Cause I couldn't remember." He really didn't. They fought so often he lost track of what was said and when.

"Stop it. You know it is."

"I know I said some things too, and I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "I provoked you."

"And I provoked you," he countered.

"We keep doing this," she lamented, leaning into the crook of his arm.

"Yeah. I don't know how to stop. Do you?"

She shook her head in the negative.

"You could quit your job," he suggested.

"You know I can't. We need that money."

"I could get one."

Peyton shook her head again. This wasn't the first time he'd suggested this, but it was impossible. "You're busy enough with school and home work and basketball, and, trust me, I don't need you any grumpier than you already are. And what would I be doing while you're juggling everything? Sitting around the apartment?"

He shrugged and sent her a half smile. "Maybe clean it."

She chuckled lightly. Yeah, their housekeeping skills left much to be desired. She was embarrassed to say it didn't usually get cleaned until Deb stopped by for a visit and did it. Luckily Deb visited frequently. "I think being a house wife is the only job that would suck more than being the assistant to the assistant," she mumbled dryly.

"Some women don't mind," he told her.

"And that's great for them," she returned. "But it's not me. I need to work."

"I know," he acknowledged. "I just wish you didn't have to work there. It's bringing you down."

"And school doesn't bring you down?" she challenged.

"That's different. I'm moving toward my goal."

"Oh, and I'm not?"

"You hate it there, Peyton."

"Well, when you're a big NBA star, I can quit and you can take care of me," she said, her tone dripping sarcasm.

"That's when you'll open your own label," he answered definitively, ignoring the sarcasm.

"Which you'll fund."

"We'll fund," he corrected. "We're in this together, remember? For everything."

She nodded. "Yeah. So why don't you get drafted already so we can get out of this nightmare."

"I'm working on it," he told her. It couldn't come fast enough, and it wasn't only himself he wanted it for anymore. It was her too. "Hey, you think we'll get along better when we're rich?"

"Who knows? I think we're bound to always find reasons to fight."

"Well then our next investment is a new couch," he said in all seriousness.

She burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. "I think that's fair," she responded between gasps. Poor guy having to sleep on that thing so often. She hated even sitting on it. "So you wanna go to the beach?" she asked him.

He nodded agreeably. The beach was their go-to place where they could relax, swim, play fight in the water. It had always been so for them. Their place to forget all the pressures for a little while. "Yeah. But first..." he drifted off as his hands ran over her body in that familiar and welcoming way. "We haven't officially made up yet," he muttered hoarsely in her ear.

"No we haven't," she said, leaning back to encourage more of his intoxicating touch.

Water and sex. The two things they loved in common.

She giggled suddenly. "The Atwoods are gonna hate us," she said, referring to the older couple in the apartment directly beneath them. They always complained about the noise level upstairs, and it wasn't only when the young couple decided to throw a party. Indeed, in the throes of passion, whether it be screaming matches or hot, wild sex, Nathan and Peyton were anything but quiet. They tried sometimes to keep it down, but the old couple complained all the same so they didn't bother trying anymore, and sometimes it might seem they even did it on purpose.

He laughed too. "They already do," he reasoned. "He's just jealous that my wife's hot and his isn't."

"Oh ok," she continued to giggle as Nathan pulled off his shirt. "And her excuse?"

"Same," he concluded. "She doesn't have this," he said, indicating his own body, "keeping her warm at night."

"Huh. Neither do I half the time," she teased before her hungry eyes completely settled on him. "But I can definitely see why she'd be jealous," she added provocatively, pulling him down to her, loving the feel of his body as it crushed against hers. Not to mention the infamous Scott smirk that twisted his lips just before he kissed her. Yes, every other girl certainly had cause to envy her position, not only because she had his body, but because she also had his heart.

...

"I don't know, Peyton," Nathan said of her suggestion as they walked back in their apartment later that evening after spending the entire day at the beach. "Do you think we're ready for that?"

"Why not? We've been preparing for it for almost two years."

"For that specifically?" he challenged. "I don't think so. I think we're better off with just the two of us."

"Oh, come on," she urged. "It'll be fun."

"Fun? It's a lot of work."

"I know, but don't you think it'll be worth it?"

"Not really. Why don't we wait a while until we can actually afford to screw it up?"

"We're not gonna screw it up. Think positive."

"Yeah, if that worked, I'd have been drafted by now."

She pulled her lower lip and stared at him beseechingly before pushing him onto the couch and straddling him. "Please," she said, her tone smooth and seductive. She wiggled her bottom against him, causing a low moan to escape him. "In return I can provide you with all kinds of sexual favors," she bargained. "Let's say every day for a month?"

His breath hitched, but still he chuckled at her appeal. "We already have sex practically every day," he reasoned honestly. The only time they didn't was during her monthly cycle.

"Yeah, but we can up it to twice a day," she whispered sensually.

"We already..."

"Plus," she cut him off, knowing he'd say they usually did that too. "A blowjob every morning before I go to work."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Every morning?" he questioned with disbelief. She was so not a morning person when woken up before she was ready by the cursed alarm clock.

"Every morning," she whispered in confirmation. "For a month."

His eyes twinkled in amusement. He rather liked this bargaining power he seemed to currently possess, even if he didn't believe for a second she'd follow through. "And a back rub every night before bed," he added his own condition.

Unable to help herself, she made a face. "How long of a back rub?" she questioned.

He seemed to ponder it a moment and then shrugged. "Twenty minutes."

"Ten."

"Fifteen."

"Deal." By ten minutes he'd either be horny, in which case he'd want something other than a massage, or fast asleep, in which case he'd never know the difference if she stopped early.

"Wow, it means that much, huh?" She hated giving back rubs and tended only to give them when she wanted something or if he was truly aching, and even then he had to practically beg for it.

"I just think it would be nice to put our newly learned skills to the test."

"I hate tests," he replied. He usually failed them.

"Yeah, but this one you can cheat on. The answers will be right in front of you."

"All right, fine," he gave in.

"Thank you, baby," she said, kissing him excitedly.

"Just keep in mind, last time we tried this was a disaster."

She nodded. She hadn't forgotten. "This time will be different," she said with assurance. "We've had a lot of lessons and a lot more practice."

"Yeah," he readily agreed. "Well, you can make the phone calls," he said, and laughed when she instantly reached for her cell phone and began dialling.

"Hey, bestest friend in the whole wide world," she said giddily into the receiver. "Just calling to invite you to a dinner party Nathan and I are having. We'll be doing the cooking so you don't have to bring anything but your foxy ass, and maybe Chase if you wanted to. I'm not exactly sure on the dates yet but call me back when you get this so we can discuss. It's gonna be so great to see you. We miss you like crazy. Love you. Bye."

She ended the call. "Voice mail," she told Nathan.

He nodded. "I figured. You know how lame and cheesy we sound having a dinner party?"

"Nothing wrong with a little cheesy once in a while," she defended. "And it is so not lame. People have dinner parties all the time."

"Yeah, but they don't all call it that," he mumbled. "You could just say 'wanna come over for dinner on whatever day,' he suggested.

She chuckled lightly. "Aww, is my big, macho husband feeling too domestic?" she teased.

"I can handle domestic. It's lame I have a problem with. Who you calling now?" he asked when she began to dial another number.

"Haley. I have to get available dates from her and Luke so I can coincide with Brooke's schedule."

Before she could say any more, she had Haley on the line. "Hey," she greeted. "How goes Stanford?" Pause. "Oh good. Luke's doing well too? Awesome. Listen," she began, glancing over at Nathan in amusement. "Do you two wanna come over for dinner someday soon?"

Nathan sat back against the cushions and chuckled softly when she mouthed 'Better?' at him. Damn he loved his girl, sarcastic humor and all.

"Oh yeah, of course we can make a weekend of it," Peyton continued on the phone. "No sense flying all the way out here just for dinner that, I admit, may or may not be edible." She laughed. "You guessed it. Nathan and I are cooking." Pause. "That is not funny. Besides, you already said yes."

Nathan chuckled harder, imagining Haley trying to back out now that she knew who the cooks would be.

Peyton shot him a feigned wounded look before continuing on the phone. "Ok perfect. I just need some available dates from you so when I talk to Brooke again, I can set something up and get back to you. Sound good? Good. Ok, hit me up."

As Peyton stayed on the phone a while longer, Nathan stood and went to the fridge for a beer. He grabbed one for himself and held another up for Peyton, silently questioning if she wanted one too. She nodded affirmatively so he twisted the cap off both and handed her one before settling back on the couch and turning on the TV to the sports channel, pressing the mute button so the sound wouldn't interfere with Peyton's telephone conversation.

It was about a half hour before she hung up and came to sit beside him, Haley and Luke's available dates scribbled on a sheet of paper.

"There," she said with sigh. "Now we just have to wait for Brooke to call."

He turned his head to look at his wife. "Why?" he asked. "Are they the only ones you're inviting?"

"No, but they're the only ones who aren't near enough to stop by at any given time. Everyone else is in or around Tree Hill."

"How many people you thinking?"

"I don't know," she pondered. "Besides those four, I was thinking our parents for sure. Cooper and Jess and their kids, of course. Rachel and Jake. They're dating now, you know."

"Yeah," he said. He'd heard. "Never saw that coming."

"Me neither. Guess you just never know. Ok, so who else? We could invite Mouth. You haven't talked to him in a while. And some of the guys from the Ravens and their better halves, if any. I'm sure they'd love to hang out with you again and..."

"We're not gonna have room for all those people in here," Nathan cut her off to reason. "Plus we only have two chairs."

"Ok, well what do you suggest?"

"Keep it low key," he answered. "Small. Like, maybe just the ones you've already invited."

"I want our parents here too," she replied. "We can get foldable chairs; we'll have to anyway, and a table."

He nodded agreeably. "Sure. They're cheap, right?" he asked with some irk. God, how he hated worrying about money.

"We'll get the cheapest ones," she said. "Our moms can use the good chairs and the rest of us can make do."

"Alright. There's still not a whole lot of room though," he said. "This is a pretty small place."

"We'll make it work. If we can throw all night ragers in here for dozens of college students, we can accommodate a few guests."

"We haven't had a rager in a long time," he countered. Thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Atwood downstairs who'd called the police the only two times they'd thrown a party. "And even then, people didn't care about being cramped. All they cared about was the keg."

"True," she agreed. "But it'll be fine," she assured him. "Stop being so negative."

The comment made him laugh, only because it was coming from her. "Not a line I usually hear from you."

She shrugged her small shoulders. "Maybe I'm trying to change."

"I hope not," he told her truthfully. "Because I love you just the way you are."

"Aww, baby, you're so sweet sometimes. I knew I married you for a reason."

He smiled and pulled her close. "That and my good looks," he gloated in his usual cocky manner. "So, you really think Brooke's gonna call back?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't she?"

"You mentioned we're cooking on your voice mail," he replied. "Might have scared her."

"Right. Maybe I should have left that part out until I got a yes out of her, huh?" she joked back. "Oh well," she added with a shrug. "If she doesn't call then I'll keep calling her until she's so annoyed, she has no choice but to answer."

He laughed. "Great strategy; hound her into submission."

"Works on you every time," she teased.

"Hey."

"Oh, did I say that out loud? Oops."

"Haha. I only let you think I need convincing on stuff to make you feel good when I agree."

She shrugged her small shoulders. "Works for me," she replied.

No ready comeback, he turned back to the TV.

"Oh, and by the way," Peyton said some few seconds later. "Haley said she and Lucas have some news."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"She wouldn't say yet, but I'm guessing Lucas proposed."

"Or he knocked her up," Nathan suggested.

The comment earned him Peyton's elbow to the gut. It was a playful gesture, but a painful one all the same, and he yelped because of it.

"What was that for?" he questioned, rubbing the sore spot.

"For being so crude," she answered. "Besides, Haley's not having sex until her wedding night. You know that."

"Right," he muttered. "Isn't that what every girl says? And how many actually stick to it?"

"Not every girl says that," she argued playfully. "I never said that."

"That's because you met me and knew you could never hold to it."

"Yeah, that's the reason," she laughed. "Ok, changing the subject, we have to decide what we're gonna make."

"Right now?"

"Not now necessarily, but soon. How 'bout we go to tomorrow's cooking class and decide from there. Sound good?"

"Sure," he answered unenthusiastically. He didn't mind going to cooking classes with her. It had actually been him to sign them up every Sunday afternoon and Thursday evening because he hadn't wanted to be stuck with frozen dinners and take-out every day for however many years. He was glad they went for they'd learned quite a bit despite their complete lack of culinary skills in the beginning. He just wasn't sure their new abilities were up to cook for a group. "So, what if whatever we make sucks?" he asked her.

"It won't. We'll keep it simple, but delicious. I'm thinking some kind of casserole."

"And if it's not delicious?" he pressed.

"Nathan..." she lamented.

"I'm serious, Peyt. This is us we're talking about. We can screw up even the simplest dish." They should know. They'd screwed up enough of them despite cooking class.

"Well then your parents can spring for pizza," she said, and he laughed. "We could make that chicken and rice casserole we made last week," she suggested next. "That turned out pretty good, right? And it's within our price range."

"It was good, wasn't it?" he boasted.

"Best we've made yet," she replied. "Of course, we'll have to quadruple the recipe."

"Even that might not be enough food," he said. "We ate the whole pan in one sitting, just me and you," he reminded her.

"That's true. Ok, here's what we'll do; we'll add salad and get a giant bag of buns. Problem solved."

He nodded compliantly. "Ok, let's do this."

"Just waiting on Brooke's call."

"Yeah, you should probably call her again. I still think she'll try to avoid our "dinner party."

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his torso. "You're right," she agreed, only not to what he thought she was agreeing to. "That does sound lame."

"Told ya," he answered, poking her sides. "But hey, everyone's entitled to be lame once in a while," he remarked of her cute, pouty lip.

"Thank you."

"But if you start talking tea parties next, I'm gonna seriously consider divorce," he declared in a feigned warning tone.

"No you won't," she countered knowingly.

"Ok, I won't, but I'll definitely be worried."

"Ok," she let him have. "No tea parties."

He heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief before dropping his lips down to mesh with hers.

The kiss went deeper, but just when he started thinking this couch wasn't as bad as all that, Peyton's cell went off. Brooke's ringtone. Girl always did have lousy timing. Some things never changed.

Nathan muttered under his breath as his wife left him to attend to her dinner plans. Exasperated, he pushed himself back against the couch only to have a spring poke him painfully in one butt cheek. "Fucking piece of shit couch," he grumbled as Peyton giggled incessantly on the phone. The sound of her laughter made him smile in turn. They may not have a lot, and what they had was not necessarily in the greatest shape, but they still had each other, and even if they found every stupid, petty thing possible to argue over, he swore he loved her more and more every day, even though every day he didn't think it possible to love her more.

...

One month later

"Oh my God! Turn it off!" Peyton shrieked over the deafening sound of the fire alarm as it rang incessantly.

"I'm trying," Nathan grumbled in return. "It's fucking stuck," he added with aggravation.

"Just unhook the damn thing!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do!?" he shouted back irately.

She was just about to shove him aside and do it herself—seriously how hard could it be?—when finally the noise ceased. "About time," she groaned.

"Would you calm down?" he more ordered than asked. "It's not like I was letting it ring on purpose."

"Well, you sure took your damn sweet time stopping it."

"I was trying..." he began and then shook his head, taking a deep breath to cool his escalating frustration over her frustration. "How's the casserole?" he asked rather than continuing the senseless argument over the bloody fire alarm.

She rolled her eyes at what she considered a stupid question. "Burnt," she deadpanned before screaming. "How do you think it is!?"

"Just asking, fuck."

"It set off the fire alarm," she pointed out gratingly. "It's a no brainer that it's burnt."

He sighed irritably. She'd just basically called him brainless. Even so, he used all his might to refrain from making a snarky comment back. "All of it?" he asked instead. "Or just the top?"

"I don't know," she grumbled. "I didn't perform exploratory surgery on the thing. All I know is where it's supposed to be a nice golden brown, it's black."

While Nathan went to inspect the dish, Peyton continued to gripe about how it figured they'd gotten the recipe perfect the last time, but today when it actually mattered, when they were feeding other people, they messed it up. This dinner was a month in the making—the only time everyone could clear their schedules—and they'd gotten everything they needed—chairs, table, extra dishes and so on. Everything was set. Their guests were due to arrive within the next hour or two. But dinner was ruined.

Or was it?

"Babe, it's just the top layer that's burnt," Nathan informed her. "We could just scrape it off."

She guffawed at the idea of it. "We can't just scrape it off, Nathan," she fumed.

"Why not?"

"Because..." she began, but realized she was stumped for an answer. "I don't know," she admitted. She couldn't come up with a single reason why not. "Can we?" she asked, hope rising within her.

"You got any better ideas?" he answered. "Grab me that big flipper thing," he said when she shook her head in the negative.

"The spatula?"

"Yeah, that."

She did as he said and watched as her husband scraped away at the top layer. She also got him a knife when he asked for that next.

It took some doing but finally he managed to scrape, chisel and peel until no blackness remained.

A wide smile spread across Peyton's face as she studied Nathan's handiwork as though it were some fine art on display. "Dude, it worked," she said in amazement. "You totally rock."

He smiled back at her. "Remember that next time you want to yell at me for no reason."

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"It's fine," he conceded amiably. He never could resist those sexy gestures of hers. "But you're making it up to me tonight."

"Oh, but what will our company say?"

With a smirk, he replied, "That we're still hot for each other, and they'll be right."

"Down boy," she said when he pulled her flush against him. "We still have this casserole to deal with."

"I thought it was dealt with," he griped.

"Really?" she said, all serious again. "Does that even remotely resemble a casserole anymore?"

A quick glance at the dish and he shrugged his broad shoulders. "No, but so what? I'm sure it'll taste the same."

"But it doesn't look very appetizing, does it? Nobody's gonna even wanna try it."

"Fine. So, what if we throw some cheese on top?" he suggested, hoping she wouldn't go off again. "Everything's better with cheese, right?"

He was happy to see the brilliant grin spread over her beautiful face. "That would so work!" she exclaimed, hugging him exuberantly. "How did I land a sexy and smart husband?" she asked with glee. "If I haven't told you before, you're a freaking genius."

He smirked at her excitement. His grades suggested he was far from a genius, but he knew she hated when he got down on himself for that so he didn't mention it. Nor did he remind her that just seconds ago she'd pretty much called him the exact opposite of a genius. Her and her moods. He swore he'd never get used to them, and it seemed to him they were getting worse, as proven by her instant irritability when she searched the refrigerator to discover the cheese was gone.

"Did you eat all the rest?" she questioned accusingly. His face showed guilt and she threw her hands in the air in frustration.

"There was only a few slices left," he said defensively.

"There was half a block!" she contradicted.

"No, there was half a block before I used it for your grilled cheese yesterday," he pointed out.

"Oh," she answered begrudgingly. "Well, you were still the last one to use it so you knew we were out. Why even suggest it then?"

Now Nathan was nowhere near a patient guy by nature, but he tried. He really tried. But he'd had it. "It was just a thought, ok, so calm your bipolar ass already and get off my back."

He swore under his breath when she started to cry. He didn't know what to feel at that point, frustration or sympathy.

"You think I'm bipolar?" she asked so distraughtly that he instantly felt bad.

"No," he denied, though he hesitated a little to do so.

"Yes you do," she cried. "You're sick of me already after less than two years of marriage."

"I'm not sick of you," he countered. Just her moods. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." At least he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"You didn't?"

"Of course not. Come here," he said, pulling her into his arms.

She clung to him and sobbed. He held her tightly though he had no real clue what she was crying about. He said stuff like that all the time and she would retaliate by calling him something even worse. That's just what they did. Not that bursting into tears was such an oddity for her to do—it was certainly common for her—but not generally over some petty name he called her during one of their equally petty arguments. Nevertheless, he rubbed her back and muttered soothing words in her ear while his shirt became increasingly damper.

"Shh," he softly hushed after a while. "Look, I'll go get some more cheese, ok?" he offered. It would actually be nice to step away from her for a while. He couldn't take much more of her mood swings. "Do we have money left?" he asked since she took care of the finances.

"Barely," she replied with a sniffle. "We've already dipped into next week's gas money. How are we supposed to get to work and school?"

"I'll borrow a little from my parents. It'll be ok."

"Fine," she conceded reluctantly. "God, this dinner was such a bad idea. It threw us way off budget, and I hate borrowing from your parents all the time."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist. "I know, babe," he said with quiet understanding. He too hated pinching pennies, probably even more than she did. He'd never had to. But what choice did they have? "I'll start looking for a part-time job, ok? Would that make things easier?"

"Financially, sure," she replied. "But no. We've been through this. You're overworked as it is with school and basketball. I don't want you wearing yourself out and risking your basketball career. I can always get a second job."

"No, he stated firmly. "We talked about that too. You're stressed enough with the job you already have."

"Well, what are we supposed to do?"

"We were managing for the most part before the expenses of this dinner came up, right?"

"If you consider living paycheck to paycheck managing, sure."

"But we were doing it, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agreed with a huff. "Until I got this crazy idea of a dinner. You were right. It was a stupid idea and we can't afford it."

"It wasn't a stupid idea," he denied empathetically. "You miss our friends, and so do I. I think this will be good for us even if it does set us back a bit. I'll borrow from my parents to get us over this hump and after that, I don't know, we'll figure out a way to get back on track."

She nodded but was far from appeased. "I hate this," she mumbled. "I hate that a simple dinner for our friends and family is enough to bankrupt us."

"I know," he agreed. "I do too." Did he ever. He, who'd grown up with money, was usually the one complaining about their finances. He'd always had money at his disposal, and he realized now that he'd taken advantage of that. It was made especially hard because of Peyton's reluctance to borrow from his parents. He had no trouble asking them for a loan—or rather, a handout—but she never wanted him to, nor did she ever consent to him getting a part-time job. It would burn him out, she always said. A job, even part-time, would also affect both his studies, which he already struggled with, and his energy on the basketball court, which would inevitably lower his chances of getting drafted to the NBA.

She wasn't wrong. In fact, he knew she was right. But still, he felt so guilty for their financial troubles when he wasn't contributing to it at all. She was the sole bread winner, and that made him feel less than a man. It certainly took a toll on his male pride. She had no choice but to stay at a job she hated, working for people she hated even more. He hated that.

When he thought about it, he knew he couldn't really complain about her moodiness. Hell, he was moody and he was doing what he wanted. Except the school part, that is. And technically she was doing what she wanted too. She just knew she could do it better on her own, and because she was so sure about it, he was too. He just wished he could give it to her. He realized that the fact she was now agreeing to borrow from his parents meant she was at her wit's end.

She pulled back from him and wiped at the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm ok," she said upon his look of concern. "Go get the cheese," she urged.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm just being a girl, but I'll be fine. Go."

He didn't doubt she'd be fine. She'd had her meltdown and now it was over. Until the next one, that is. He gave her a quick kiss and nodded before heading toward the door.

"Grab some more buns too," she told him. "If this casserole's a flop, at least we'll have that. It's not like we can ruin buns, right?"

His first instinct was to say that they could ruin anything, but he wisely kept that to himself and instead agreed with her. "Right."

"And hurry up, ok."

Flashing his famous Scott smirk, he responded. "Why? You gonna miss me?"

"Sure, we'll go with that," she replied. "Instead of people are gonna start showing up soon and I don't wanna explain where you are and why."

"Oh, is that it?" he asked with a chuckle. "I'm so unloved," he complained playfully. "Oh well, at least I'm hot."

"Why do you think I married you?" she deadpanned. "Besides, why do you need me to love you when you obviously love yourself enough for the both of us?"

"My wife thinks she's a comedian," he muttered. "I just figure I must be great since I got the perfect girl to marry me."

"Wow, you know all the right things to say today," she said, sounding impressed. "Keep that up and I might let you sleep in the bed tonight."

"I hope so considering the couch is gonna be occupied."

"There's always the floor."

"Right. I'll shut up now."

"Good idea. And get going. You'll never make it back before they get here if you just stand there."

"I love it when you get all aggressive and bossy," he joked.

"I aim to please," she countered. "Go." He was halfway out the door before she called out to him.

He turned to face her.

"I kinda love you, you know?"

"Yeah? Because I let you boss me around?"

A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. He far from let her as far as she was concerned. "That and because you're hot."

He chuckled. "I kinda love you back."

"Because I let you boss me around?"

Let him. What a joke. "And cause you're hot too," he replied with a wink before slipping out the door.

...

"Mmm, never thought I'd say this," Brooke Davis said as she put the small sample forkful into her mouth to taste, "but yum! What's happened to my fellow kitchen illiterates?" she joked before stuffing a much larger bite in her mouth.

Nathan smirked at his childhood friend. Success. Brooke had been convinced—not so easily—to taste their concoction and actually liked it. "They took cooking lessons," he answered, satisfied that everyone else seemed happy with the meal as well. No one had even reached for a bun yet. He silently wondered what they would do with the excess buns if they didn't eat them. He and Peyton had healthy appetites, true, but even they couldn't eat all of those before they went bad. He supposed they could always stick them in the freezer. Or maybe give them to the Atwoods downstairs as a kind of peace offering of sort. Nah, freezer. Why should they share their stuff with such miserable people? He'd just as soon let the buns go rotten.

"Well they obviously work," Brooke returned. "I'm impressed. Anybody who can turn you two into master chefs gets my vote."

"Vote?"

"Of approval, duh."

Nathan nodded and then turned to his wife, grabbing her leg under the table. "Hear that babe?" he asked. "We're masters."

"Yeah, I heard," Peyton answered agreeably, but her expression was a little on the sour side.

"You ok?" he asked, noticing.

"Fine," she replied flatly. "I'm just...I'm sitting right here. How could I have not heard what she said from two feet away?"

Nathan sighed inwardly. "Just making conversation," he said dully.

She realized that. She really did. She had no idea why she felt so annoyed with him lately. So annoyed with everything lately. She wasn't angry with Nathan at all, but she was feeling off and directed it at him since he was the one always there.

She also had no idea why the casserole suddenly smelled so nauseating. "Does this smell right to you?" she asked Nathan softly, meant for his ears only. The last thing she wanted was to serve her guests rotten food at their very first dinner party.

"It smells and tastes wonderful, sweetie," Deb answered, clearly in too enclosed a space for a comment, even a whispered comment, to be heard by Nathan alone.

Peyton smiled warily at her mother in law, for that was all she could muster.

"You don't think so?" Nathan asked. As far as he was concerned, the casserole had turned out better this time than the last. It actually had a nice charbroiled taste throughout it, as Ellie had already mentioned. Looks like burning it hadn't been such a bad thing. Although, judging by Peyton's face, she clearly disagreed. Then again, she hadn't taken a single bite, he realized.

"No," she answered wearily. "I don't know. It's turning my stomach," she admitted. The smell had been nauseating her ever since she'd sat down and the steam had wafted to her nostrils. That hadn't happened the last time. Last time she'd been more than anxious to dig in. "You sure the cheese you bought wasn't expired?"

He made a face at her. "Aren't they not allowed to sell it if it's expired?" he asked defensively. Really, did she have to pick a fight over nothing right now?

"Well, there's this thing called human error," she shot out. "Maybe you've heard of it. Don't look at me like I've just grown three heads. It happens. Did you even check the dates? And don't say you did because that would be a first."

"Honey," her dad jumped in, feeling rather sympathetic toward his son-in-law at the moment. Who knew that day would ever come? "The cheese is fine. We all would have noticed if it wasn't."

"Well, something's not right," she rationalized. If all was right, the smell of it wouldn't cause her to want to vomit. "Excuse me," she said, pushing from the table and rushing off as the wave of nausea hit her harder.

Without a word to their guests, Nathan followed her—mostly because he was annoyed and wanted to see what the hell was up—and walked in the open door of the washroom just on time to see her expel the contents of her stomach, albeit it wasn't much since she'd been saving her appetite for this dinner most of the day.

His irritation instantly vanished to be replaced with concern. He came up behind her and held her hair back—yes, it turned out he was that guy to hold her hair back after all, despite her once thinking he wasn't and never would be—until finally she stopped heaving and her body slackened against him.

"You ok?" he asked, handing her a wad of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. "I know, stupid question," he added before she could.

"No, I think I'm ok now," she said, her voice coarse.

"You wanna go lie down or something?"

Shaking her head, she brought up the fact they had guests.

"So? Babe, you're sick. Everyone will understand." If they didn't, then screw them all. It was probably all the stress from this dinner for them that made her sick in the first place.

"It's rude," she argued feebly. "Besides, I'm fine now."

"It's not rude, and if it is, so what? And you're not fine."

"Gee thanks," she said lightly. "And you said earlier I was still hot."

"Earlier you didn't have puke dripping down your mouth."

"I do not," she denied, yet instinctively brought the tissue to her mouth. "Do I?" she asked, frowning.

"No," he assured her. He really shouldn't be teasing her right now. "But that's what you get for trying to distract me from the fact that you're sick."

"But I feel fine now," she repeated. "And ready to eat. I'm starving!"

"I'll bet. You just lost the little bit you ate all day."

"I'm going out there."

"Peyt..."

"Nate. I want to be with everybody else. Ok?"

It wasn't permission she was seeking though it was worded that way. She was telling him she was joining the others and basically daring him to try to stop her.

"Whatever then," he muttered, knowing he wasn't going to win this battle. "But if you start feeling sick again, I'll drag you to bed myself."

"Hmm, promise?" she returned flirtily.

"Nice," he deadpanned. "Rinse your mouth and it might even be sexy."

"Hey," she lamented, slapping his leg. "You're so mean to me."

"Payback," was all he said.

"Huh," she huffed, even as she stood up to rinse her mouth and brush her teeth. It wasn't like she wasn't going to do that anyway. "Well, at least you were worried about me," she said with a mouthful of toothpaste. "It's cute when you do."

He shrugged. "Guess that makes me always cute."

"That's a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one," she said, laughing.

"Seriously though," he said, his arms wrapping behind her. "You sure you're ok?"

"I really am," she stressed. "The pie I had earlier must not have agreed with me."

He threw her a look of disbelief. "You practically live off that pie," he pointed out truthfully. "How's it, all of a sudden, gonna make you barf?"

Wow, he had such an eloquent way with his wording, she thought with sarcasm. She was well used to it by now, and it didn't bother her in the least. It never had. But what did bother her to the point of anger, as cute as it was, was his persistent questioning and doubt over her current health. In just a few minutes in the washroom, he'd asked the same question three or four times, and then look at her with the same suspicious look he was giving her now.

"I don't know, Nathan," she said, exasperated. "Maybe it's something else. All I know is right now I feel better so I'm going out there to eat and socialize with my loving husband and the people we invited over from various parts of the country and whom I've missed so terribly. If I start to feel sick again, I will promptly excuse myself and take myself to bed with no necessary brute muscle on your part. Ok? Ok."

"Fine," he agreed. It's not like he had a choice; She was already walking away from him. So he followed behind with a sigh, hoping she was as fine as she claimed to be.

...

"Everything ok?" everybody seemed to ask simultaneously as they took their seats back at the table.

"Everything's fine," Peyton assured them. "Just a little bug is all. Nothing to worry about," she added as she toyed with her now cold plate of casserole. It actually looked quite appealing now and she couldn't wait to sink her teeth into it. She didn't know what the hell was wrong with her a few minutes ago.

Yet she couldn't bring herself to put another forkful into her mouth after the initial one. She told herself it was because it was cold. Nothing tasted as good when left sitting at room temperature so long. "Needs nuking," she said.

"I'll get it," Nathan said, getting up before she could.

"Thanks, babe," she said with a warm smile. She really did find it adorable when he worried about her so. At least she did when she wasn't finding it annoying as hell.

He returned her smile and shrugged his shoulders. He had to reheat his anyway. May as well do hers first.

"So you said you and Luke had news?" Peyton asked Haley as she buttered a bun for herself and another for Nathan, knowing he'd eat it.

She was going to wait until either Haley or Lucas brought the subject up, but her curiosity got the better of her. If Nathan's prediction that she was pregnant was right, it didn't show, and there was no engagement ring on her finger so clearly Peyton's own prediction was less than accurate too.

She found herself smiling as Haley and Lucas argued playfully over who would reveal this bit of news. Funny enough, they both wanted the other to say it.

"Ok, one of you spit it out," Brooke snapped impatiently, echoing both Nathan and Peyton's sentiments. None of those three long-time friends had ever been blessed with the virtue of patience.

"Ok," Luke said to the crowd, sitting up a little more in his chair. "You know how I was writing "An Unkindness of Ravens?"

Those who knew nodded their heads and watched Luke expectantly for him to go on. But instead of Luke going on, Haley jumped in. "It's getting published!" she exclaimed.

There was an all-around murmur of shock and congratulatory excitement.

"I didn't even know you'd finished it," Peyton said. "Good for you, Luke."

"Yeah, congrats, bro," Nathan said from where he still stood by the microwave.

"Thanks," Luke said to his brother. His eyes turned back to Peyton. "I finished it before graduation," he admitted.

"Two years ago?" she gasped.

"Two years ago," Lucas confirmed. "That's how long it took to gain interest after wayyyyyy too many rejections."

"Dude, that's so awesome!" Peyton couldn't hide her excitement. She was really happy for him.

"I suppose you're gonna expect me to read it now, huh?" Nathan joked. "You know, before it goes public so I can say I knew you back when..."

"Back when you hated me?" Luke teased. "And tormented me every second you got? Broke my arm and a couple ribs? Destroyed the Rivercourt?" He could go on, but his brother's face took on a guilty expression and that is not what Lucas intended.

Nathan rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I thought we'd leave that part out," he muttered.

Lucas chuckled but couldn't help going on. "And the part where you tried to get me kicked off the team? Stole my clothes? Dumped me a ditch? Threatened me away from Peyton?"

"Hey, I had good reason for the last one," Nathan said defensively. The guy had been after Peyton. He'd have threatened no matter who it was. He still would. "As for the rest, I was an ass. I'm sorry."

Now Luke shrugged his shoulders. "No worries. You've apologized at least a dozen times already, little brother."

"Well then, get over it, big brother," Nathan responded, easing what could have been a very tense few minutes.

"You should all read the book," Haley stated next. "It's really good, and I'm not just saying that cause it's about me."

Lucas set loving eyes upon her, still wondering how he could have been writing a whole book about her and not even realize until much later that he was completely in love with her.

"I'll take a finished copy," Dan said. He'd already read it in its creation stage when he and Luke had been drawing closer, but only in manuscript format. "Didn't I tell you that book would take off?" he asked in his usual confident manner?

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Luke said, much less confidently. "It's getting published. That doesn't mean it's going to take off. People may not like it."

"Don't sell yourself short, kid," Dan told him. "It will take off and people will like it. You know why? Because it's good. Believe that."

"Thanks Dan," Luke mumbled. He still couldn't bring himself to call him Dad. He doubted he ever would.

"Don't thank me. It's your hard work that's paid off," Dan said. "And I'm proud of you, son," he added.

"Thanks. That means a lot," Luke replied honestly.

Instinctively, both Peyton and Brooke glanced over at Nathan to gauge his reaction. As much as he'd grown, he still looked for his father's approval, and rarely got it, so to hear him praise Lucas, the other son, tell him how proud he was of him..., well, it still stung. He tried to hide it for he and Lucas were much closer than they ever were, and logically he knew that Lucas deserved his share of glory from their father. But logic was a worthy competitor against jealousy. It's not that Nathan wanted to take the sudden glory away from Lucas. He would just like to hear those words himself from Dan.

He caught the girls' eyes, knowing Peyton understood because he often talked to her about it, and Brooke, well, he talked to her plus she understood first hand. Her parents were cut from the same cloth, always making their daughter feel like nothing she did was ever good enough—much the way Dan was with him.

Peyton's heart went out to them. Even though her parents didn't criticize and push, she knew more of what they went through with their parents than either of them thought. Her own dad had been on a dredging boat for much of her life, the only mother she'd known had been in a fatal car crash, and Ellie...well, Ellie was great now, but she hadn't been there as she'd grown up, and Peyton still often times found herself resentful toward the birth mother who'd given her up, even though she said all the right reasons for doing so. Most times those reasons were enough for Peyton and she could let go of the resentment, but it was still there at the surface, ready to take over should Peyton allow it.

She wanted to go to Nathan and wrap her arms around him, tell him she was proud of him, but he was coming back with their plates and congratulating Luke himself.

And as soon as he put the plate down in front of her, and the steam reached her nostrils, all empathy toward Nathan was gone and was replaced with another wave of nausea. Oh God, this casserole had to be bad to cause such a reaction twice. How could everyone else just sit there and chow down on it? "No," she said, covering her mouth and pushing away from the table. "Take it away."

Nathan frowned but did as she said. She'd loved this dish the last time they'd made it. The only difference was the cheese they'd added, and she loved cheese. Hell, she hadn't even taken a single bite. How could she know it was no good? He decided she must definitely be coming down with something.

Yet, that theory vanished about the same time her nausea eased and she ended up munching away on the bun she'd buttered. Apparently those were delicious. "You should try the casserole," Nathan told her, pushing her plate toward her again.

The mere thought of it sent her stomach to turning once more, and she shook her head vigorously until Nathan took it away again. She was both amazed and aghast that everyone else was actually eating it and enjoying it when she couldn't even stand the smell or the idea of putting it in her mouth.

"You're crazy," Haley told her. "This is the second best casserole I've ever tasted, the first being Karen's because, let's face it, Karen's the best, which is why she's in the restaurant business, of course, so that's no offence to you both because that's such a high bar to reach, and this one is definitely comparable..."

As Haley prattled on, the two mothers at the table were exchanging suspicious glances over Peyton's sudden sickly condition. They knew all about being sensitive to smells and one of the main reasons for it.

"You say you enjoyed it the last time you made it, dear?" Deb inquired.

Peyton simply nodded while Nathan elaborated, telling them how they'd polished off an entire pan in one sitting by themselves. "I even had to fight her off from eating my share," he embellished with a quirky smile. "It was a joke," he said to Peyton when she threw him the most hostile of looks.

Again, the two mothers exchanged looks.

"And have you been sick often lately?" Ellie asked.

Peyton shook her head. "No, not till now," she answered.

"And your moods, how have they been?" Deb asked. "Up and down at all?"

"Not really," Peyton said.

"Yes," Nathan countered. "They've been all over the place."

"No more than usual," Peyton shot back, glaring at him as though he'd just revealed her top secret.

"Way more than usual," Nathan said anyway.

"Ok, you know what?" Peyton snapped at her husband. "You're not exactly Mr. Sunshine yourself, especially when you're doing homework or, God forbid, you lose a game, so I'd shut up if I were you."

"Ok, that's enough," Larry piped in. "Everyone's just worried about you, sweetheart, including your young husband here so no need to bite his head off."

This infuriated Peyton all the more and she glared at her dad with the same snide look she generally kept for her husband these days. "Hey, remember when you hated Nathan?" she goaded. Now he couldn't seem to defend him enough.

"Quite clearly," Larry answered, even toned, quite adept at dealing with his daughter's ever-changing attitudes. Yet, he knew Nathan was used to them too, so if he was saying they were worse than usual, then he believed him. Besides that, he caught on quite well to the line of questioning from Ellie and Deb and the reasons behind it.

Ellie opened her mouth to speak again, but then paused. She wanted to ask about Peyton's monthly cycle next but she didn't think Peyton would appreciate that at the dinner table surrounded by all these people, half of them being men. Besides that, her goal was not to put husband and father in hot water with the beautiful but snarky blonde. "Well, I totally agree with Haley," she chose to say instead. "This casserole is the bomb."

...

"Have you missed a period?" Deb flat-out asked what Ellie had meant to ask earlier. It was later the same evening and it was just the girls. Nathan and the rest of the guys had gone off to some nearby park that Nathan had found shortly after they'd moved here, and often visited due to the basketball court it had.

"Oh my God!" Brooke exclaimed, just now clueing in to the question and all the ones during dinner. "You're pregnant!"

Haley's jaw dropped, not because she hadn't caught on to the subtle questions at lunch, but because of Brooke's sudden outburst. She'd been holding it in herself as it seemed the mothers involved were attempting a tactful way to learn answers. But it was out there now so Haley's own enthusiasm could bubble forth. "Dibs on Godmother!" she called out.

"Back off little girl," Brooke warned, both playfully and seriously. "Nobody's God...mothering...this kid but me," she huffed. "Dibs," she continued mockingly. "As if." She'd had dibs long before Haley or Lucas had come along, and she wasn't giving it up for anybody, not even sweet little Haley.

"Before anybody pees on me, I'm not pregnant."

"You sure about that?" Ellie asked.

"Well, I can't be," Peyton protested. "We use protection and, plus, it would be horrible timing."

"Mother Nature works on her own schedule," Ellie retorted teasingly.

"And I don't care what protection you use, the only guarantee against pregnancy is abstinence." Deb threw in her own jibe. "Have you two been abstaining from sex?"

"Umm," Peyton began, her cheeks flushing at being asked such a question by Nathan's mom, with her own mother watching her expectantly for the answer she already knew. "Well..."

"I didn't think so," Deb concluded. "My son is a Scott, after all. So then you're not sure. You didn't answer if you've missed a period."

"I haven't," Peyton answered quickly. "On the clock as usual," she added.

"And when was the last one?" Ellie pressed.

"Oh my God, I'm pregnant!" Peyton suddenly burst out as she, doing the math, realized her cycle should be now. This couldn't be. They couldn't afford her to be pregnant. They were barely getting by as it was. "How am I gonna tell Nathan?" she began, starting to pace the room anxiously. "We can't have a baby. Not right now. We can barely take care of ourselves. I'm the only one working, and it's not like he can quit school to get a job because there would go the NBA. Oh God, this is terrible! What are we gonna do?"

"Well, first of all," Ellie said, taking hold of her daughter's shoulders to calm her, "you're going to calm down. You don't know that you're pregnant and, in either case, a panic attack will change nothing."

"Very true," Deb agreed. "What we need to do is get you tested. We'll run to the drugstore, pick up a home-test, and go from there. Ok?"

Peyton nodded, feeling herself calming in the face of the two older women's exterior serenity. "Ok, yeah. That's what I need to do. Find out for sure and then go from there. I could be worrying for nothing."

"Oh this is so exciting!" Haley exclaimed, clapping her hands quite Brooke-like. One look at her best friend and Peyton saw that Brooke was doing the same. She silently admitted she'd probably be excited too if it was one of them with a possible bun in the oven, but seeing as it was herself, she was petrified. They seriously could not afford a baby.

"Ok, let's go," Brooke urged, barely able to contain her enthusiasm, pulling along a grumbling and reluctant best friend.

Why they all had to go was beyond Peyton, but she went quietly, dread filling every bone in her body.

...

The last thing she expected as they entered the drugstore was to find the boys there. Nathan spotted them right away and approached his wife sheepishly. Peyton noticed he looked nervous and embarrassed. She wondered why.

She needn't wonder long as he pulled her aside and spoke so low she had to strain her ears to hear him. It didn't help that he was stammering over his words.

"Hey, uh," he began, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck—a true sign of his anxiety. "This wa...wasn't my idea," he continued. "The guys thought that we should...uh...like, come here and...it wasn't my idea."

Her brow lifted curiously. He was repeating himself now. He didn't get that nervous, ever. Despite his obvious discomfort, it was kind of amusing to watch and served to lessen her own uneasiness. "Come here and what?" she pressed, a small smile playing on her lips.

His cheeks flushed adorably, and he broke eye contact. "And, well, you know, to buy, like..."

"Condoms?" she guessed. What else would make a guy with nerves of steel so nervous? She didn't think condoms would make him react so either, but it was possible seeing as her father, and now her mother, were around to witness the purchase.

He shook his head. "Uh, no, not condoms," he answered awkwardly. As if the purchase of condoms would embarrass him. Well, in front of her parents, maybe. In any case, they were never in short supply of those rubber miracle workers. He made sure of that. "It's a uh...a test," he added, his gaze dropping to the floor now. Nice tiles they had, if he were to notice things like that.

"A test," she muttered, her jaw dropping as she realized they were all there for the very same reason. She would laugh if it were funny at all. "Oh my God. They got to you too?"

His head lifted and their eyes met, his questioning.

"You're buying a pregnancy test right?"

"Uh...yeah. Well...my dad is. The guys, they were asking all these questions, and I didn't even realize why at first, but then it became kinda obvious, but by that time it was too late and they were dragging me here, insisting we get this test..."

She couldn't help it now. She burst out into giggles, stopping Nathan mid-rant. It was amusing to know that as she'd been getting the third degree by family and friends, he'd been going through the same thing. And here she'd thought he was enjoying playing ball with the guys while she was being interrogated.

"What's funny?" he asked curiously.

"The girls did the same to me," she admitted. "Right down to the dragging part," she added.

He smiled now. "So everyone had the same thought in mind."

"Seems so," she returned. "In fact, I'm suspecting they all plotted this together—get us apart so they can grill us separately? What do you think?"

"I think you're right," he agreed. "And I, uh," he added, nervous again, "I also think you should take the test."

"Yeah," she replied in a duh tone. "It's kinda something we're gonna need to know."

"Yeah."

"Besides, Brooke's probably gonna buy them out of tests so might as well make use of them, right?"

"Right," he said with a nod, his hands dropping to caress her flat belly, a smile playing on his lips. "Imagine that," he said wistfully. "A mini me in there."

"Yep, imagine that," she repeated, her voice dull now. "You can quit smiling now cause it's definitely not something to hope for."

She walked away toward the girls before he could answer, leaving him staring after her with a feeling similar to being kicked in the stomach.

...

"Why not hope?" Nathan asked Peyton later that night as the two of them lay in their bed. Her words in the drugstore had been bothering him for the rest of the evening, so much so that he could barely enjoy the company of their guests.

"Really?" Peyton returned cattily. "You have to ask that? You don't think we're struggling enough without adding a baby in the mix?"

"I know it's bad timing..." he began to admit before she cut him off.

"Try the worst timing," she corrected.

"Ok," he said with a disgruntled sigh, turning onto his back. Sometimes he wished they could just talk without anyone flying off the handle, but that was an art neither of them had mastered yet. He wondered if they ever would. "I won't hope then. Happy?"

"Yeah, cause you hoping or not hoping somehow changes the outcome," she muttered sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes, unable to help doing so. "You don't have to be a bitch. I'm just saying."

"If I'm pregnant, you'll have nine months of hearing me bitch so you'd better get used to it."

"I'm already used to it," he mumbled. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Another reason we shouldn't be raising a kid together," she rationalized. "We fight too much." And they never censored their words, despite Ellie's advice from a while back that, at the very least, they should stop with the name-calling.

"So, what are you saying, Peyt?"he wondered aloud. "That we shouldn't have a kid right now or we shouldn't have one ever?"

"First of all, quit calling me Peyt. You know I hate it!" Funny show she took more offence to being called Peyt than bitch. "Second of all, don't be stupid! You know I want to have babies with you someday."

"No, actually, I don't know that, Peyt," he argued, emphasizing her supposedly hated nickname he'd always had for her. "Cause like you said earlier, we're always gonna find reasons to fight so if we're always fighting and that's one reason you think we shouldn't have kids, then it kinda implies you mean ever."

"Or," she stressed, "you're taking everything I say the wrong way."

He didn't know how that was possible. To him, she was pretty clear. But still, he asked, "then what's the right way? And it'd be awesome if you could tell me without yelling."

"I'm not yelling."

"You're whisper yelling, and only because you don't wanna wake Brooke up."

"Yeah, wonder why she didn't go to a hotel with the rest of them," she wondered.

"Because she wanted to stay here with us," Nathan answered reasonably. It was what Brooke had said, after all. If he had to guess though, she wanted to be there first thing in the morning when Peyton took the test, which was what the directions said would yield the best results.

"On a lumpy couch versus a five-star hotel," Peyton scoffed. She too had her suspicions that were not at all that Brooke had missed them so terribly much that she would sleep on an old, uncomfortable sofa just to be near them. It was more like she couldn't stand not being the first to know, other than Nathan and Peyton themselves, if Peyton was with child. "You know she just wants to find out when we do."

"Yep," he agreed.

Chuckling, Peyton continued, "Gotta love her right? She thinks she's so smooth, but she should know by now that she can't fool us."

"Yeah. And you should know you can't fool me."

"What does that mean?"

"You changed the subject, hoping I wouldn't notice."

"I did not."

"No? How did our conversation about babies turn into a conversation about Brooke?"

"That happens in the flow of conversation," Peyton explained. "And if you wanna blame anybody, you're the one who brought Brooke up."

He only frowned, clearly not amused, and clearly intent on steering their talk back to babies. She sighed deeply before beginning her explanation again. "All I meant was before we start a family, we should be better at controlling our tempers, and it would be nice to be financially stable so we can actually, you know, provide, for our children."

He nodded, glad that she, at least, wasn't rejecting the idea of a family altogether. He hated to think that they'd never have kids. "Ok," he said agreeably. "But what happens if we're not?" he asked, reason kicking in, mostly because it had to. "What happens if you take that test tomorrow morning and it comes out positive? What then, Peyton?"

"Then we deal with it," she replied. "What choice would we have?"

"Three that I know of," he answered.

"No," she countered. "There's only one," she said forcefully. "So, if you're implying that we give our baby up, or worse, have an abortion, you can forget it because I'm not doing that and I can't believe you would even suggest..."

"I'm not suggesting anything," he defended himself. "I'm just laying out the options cause you asked what choice we would have. There are choices, Peyton."

"Not for me, there's not."

"Ok. I'm just saying it's something to think about."

"And I'm saying it's not."

"Fine."

"You'd actually be ok with killing our baby or giving it away to strangers?"

"If we couldn't take care of it, yeah," he returned. "It wouldn't technically be a baby yet, and sometimes strangers make great parents. Do I even need to tell you that? I mean, look at yours compared to mine, and mine were natural."

"We are not our parents," she argued. "And I'm telling you right now, if I am pregnant, we're keeping it."

"Fine. Then what are we arguing about? I said I'm cool with us having a kid. You're the one who said you didn't want one right now."

"That doesn't mean I'm willing to kill it if it's there or just hand it off to someone else and hope they're as great as my adoptive parents were. I got lucky, Nathan, and I couldn't take the chance that our child wouldn't be so lucky," she fumed. "And you're cool with having a kid? Really? Do you know how much responsibility that is? It's not like getting a new TV or a couch."

"Oh, my bad, I thought they were the same," he muttered. "What kind of idiot do you think I am? Wait, don't answer that. I don't think I'd like the answer."

"Probably not," she said, a sudden smile playing at her lips. She couldn't help it. His comment was funny.

He didn't think so. "Oh, now you're laughing. That's great," he mumbled sourly.

"No," she began then stopped. Really, she had laughed. He took it the wrong way, but she could see why. Her features grew serious again. "All right, listen, I'm sorry. I know that you know the difference," she gave him. "I just think maybe..."

"What?"

She took the chance of answering honestly. "That you're romanticizing the idea of us having a baby because you've been envious of Cooper and Jess's life for a while..." She stopped dead when he shook his head. It really was a chance she was taking bringing that up. She risked making him extremely angry.

"That's not it," was all he answered.

"Really? So you actually think we're ready to start a family right now?"

"I don't know if we're ready, Peyton," he replied. "But if you're pregnant, and you don't wanna consider adoption or abortion, then we have to get ready, and fast."

"If I won't consider it," she tossed, angry again. "Well, I'm sorry that I'm not cool with any option like you seem to be."

He sighed in frustration. He was trying to be supportive of any decision she made. As the male in this scenario, wasn't that what he was supposed to do? Apparently not. "Look, I'm fine with whatever you choose, ok?" He wasn't pro or con anything. It wasn't something he'd ever spent a great deal of time thinking about.

"My point in case," she commented. "So you're basically saying the decision's all on me, like you have no part in it at all."

"No, actually you said that when you said we'd keep it. You didn't give me a say. Ultimately it is your decision, right? You don't even wanna let me hope."

Stuck for words, she realized she couldn't argue the truth of that. "You're right," she admitted. "So then, what do you want? Do you really hope that test is positive? With all the obstacles we would face if it were?"

He looked at her. She genuinely wanted to know what he thought. He shrugged his broad shoulders and took a deep, calming breath. "Honest to God truth?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Now that the possibility's in my head and I know we'd be keeping it, I...I'd be kinda disappointed if that test turns out negative."

"Yeah," she said softly. It's basically what he'd been saying the whole time. "Wanna hear my truth?"

"Pretty sure I already did."

He hadn't. But he would. "Now that it's in my head," she began to tell him, "I'd be kinda disappointed too."

Brows shooting up in surprise, he stared at her in wonder. He hadn't seen that coming, not the way she'd been going on the last several minutes, and her words at the drugstore. "Really?" he questioned doubtfully.

She nodded her head in admittance before covering her face and letting out an aggravated groan. "God, that is so selfish and wrong."

"What?" he asked, even more taken aback. "How is it either wrong or selfish?" he wanted to know.

She put her hands down from her face to look at him and heaved a deep, disgruntled sigh. "Because I know we can't afford to take care of a baby, and yet here I am hoping I'm pregnant. It's probably just a fricking pile of...cells... at this point, if it's even anything at all, and I'm already a bad mom. Our poor kid's gonna starve because we have no money to feed it."

A smile curved his lips now, or at least it did until she smacked him for it. Even then he couldn't hide the amusement in his eyes. "Babe, nobody's gonna let that happen," he reasoned. So this was her issue. It was a simple panic attack. She was so cute. "Not my parents or yours, and you know Brooke won't. And then there's Lucas and Haley, and all the rest of our friends. We have a lot of people who are not going to let our kid, who by the way, is gonna be the cutest kid ever, starve."

"I know, you're right. But depending on everyone else for everything? I'm sorry, but I hate that idea."

"It won't be for everything," he answered. "We'll do what we can on our own and swallow our pride and accept help from the people who care about us."

"It'll be ok?" she asked hopefully, taking an easier breath than any she'd taken since the possible pregnancy had been pointed out to her.

"It'll be fine. You'll see."

"You promise?" she asked, snuggling against him.

"I promise," he replied, pulling her closer, his anger and frustration all forgotten. "Besides, you're gonna breast feed for the first little while, right?"

"Who said?"

He shrugged. "It's healthier for the baby, plus it's free."

"That's true. You're not gonna get jealous, are you? Cause I hear a lot of guys do."

He chuckled. "I think I can deal. I love you, you know that?"

"I know you do. I kinda like you too. And you can call me Peyt, it's fine. I don't hate it that much."

"That's good, cause it rhymes with Nate and I like the ring to it."

She chuckled against his chest. "Nate and Peyt," she said dreamily. "It does have a nice ring to it."

He nodded though she didn't see it. "Nate and Peyt, plus eight," he jested.

"Oh God. You better be joking or I want a divorce. No matter how hot you are."

"I told you before, I would never sign divorce papers so you're stuck with me forever."

"Forever sounds good."

They were quiet in their own thoughts for a long while before Peyton spoke again. "It's gonna be hard to sleep not knowing."

He couldn't agree more. "Then we don't sleep."

Again they lay quietly, both wide awake.

"You wanna have sex?" Peyton asked.

He grinned at the suggestion and pulled her atop of him. "To make the time go faster?" he teased.

"Is that a bad reason?" she teased back, grinding against his already growing erection.

He shook his head. "Is there a such thing as a bad reason?" he stated, his hands already traveling up her long, beautiful legs.

"None that comes to mind," she replied, closing her eyes as the sensations his hands evoked hit her instantly.

...

"Seriously guys," Peyton said in playful exasperation. "I don't need an audience to pee on a stick." It was the next morning, and Nathan and Brooke were actually trying to follow her into the bathroom.

"We just want to find out when you find out," Brooke lamented. It was the whole reason she'd stayed last night on the piece of crap furniture her friends called the couch. She hadn't slept a wink, and it wasn't only because of the spring pressing into her back. The noise level from the other room—all night long—had also prevented her from getting any shut-eye. Tonight she'd go to the hotel with the others. But now, right now, she wanted to know some results.

"And you will," Peyton assured her with a humouring smile. "I'll just do my thing and then I'll come out, ok? Ok." She shut the door before they could answer or take another step.

Nathan and Brooke shared a look, and Nathan instantly began pacing as Brooke leaned against the wall.

"So, Superstar," Brooke began as her eyes followed his steps back and forth. "I take it you're as nervous as I am."

His brows creasing, he sent her a strange look. "Why are you nervous?"

"Duh, we might be having a baby."

He chuckled at that. "We?" he scoffed despite knowing that Brooke would be just as involved whether they had a problem with it or not. Luckily he did not have a problem with it, and he knew Peyton wouldn't either.

"Yes, we," Brooke stated defiantly. "But I warn you right now, if you two pick Haley as Godmother, I'm never speaking to either of you again. I'll come to see the little guy or gal, but you two will be dead to me. Just saying."

Nathan responded with his infamous Scott smirk, and opened his mouth to reply when they heard Peyton shout from inside the bathroom. "You couldn't cut us out forever," she said firmly. "We're your besties in the whole wide world."

"Like you said," Brooke responded, "it's a big wide world. I'll get new besties. And why are you talking when you should be peeing?"

"I'm multi-tasking," Peyton joked. "You see, since I mastered peeing a long time ago, I can actually do both at the same time. "And in fact," she continued, "Peeing is such a natural occurrence now that I could do it in my sleep. Not that I do, just saying I could."

Nathan chuckled at both his wife's jestful comments and at Brooke's scrunched up face because of them.

"Just shut up and pee already," Brooke returned sternly though a smile spread over her face too.

"Why? Is it gonna change the test results if I talk too?"

"Blondie, don't make me go in there."

"So if I can't talk, I guess I'm not allowed to say that, of course you would be Godmother, Brooke."

"You can speak," Brooke quickly changed her tune, her smile quadrupling in size as she lifted her hand to her heart and her eyes misted. "Really?" she asked, her raspy voice coming out even rougher. "You're not just saying that because I threatened you?"

Nathan tapped her arm lightly in jest. "Well, actually, the threat kinda made me lean towards Haley. The bad influence thing and all."

"You're not funny," Brooke told him crossly, tapping him much harder than he'd tapped her. "You know," she continued as Nathan laughed. "There's something to be said about people who laugh at their own jokes."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Nathan questioned in amusement.

"That they're crazy."

"Is that really what's said or did you just make that up because you don't actually know what's said?"

"It's something along those lines," Brooke replied. "And who cares? This is about me now."

"It's always about you, Brooke."

"This coming from the most self-absorbed guy I know," Brooke replied with an eye-roll. "But seriously, you guys are really choosing me?

"Duh," came from Peyton. "Haley might have called dibs today, but you called it, I don't even know when. I think we were ten. So yes, and I speak for Nathan too, we choose you."

"Yeah?" Brooke asked, biting her bottom lip and looking at Nathan imploringly.

He got serious then. "Was there ever a doubt?" he questioned. Seriously, did she really think she wouldn't be their first choice?

"A little," Brooke admitted with a lift of her shoulder. "I mean, Haley's so smart and level-headed and stable, and I don't know anything about babies."

"Neither do we," Nathan said. "We'll have to learn. Maybe sooner than we thought but it's cool."

"Oh my God!" Brooke suddenly exclaimed. "You two are totally gonna be that milf/dilf couple every teenager and teeny bopper drools over."

His arrogance never far, Nathan simply smirked cockily and nodded his head in agreement. Yes they would be.

"Totally Barbie and Ken," Brooke added, to which Nathan frowned at. Referring to them as milf and dilf was fine, but likening them to a couple plastic dolls definitely was not. "Oh don't give me that look," Brooke waved off. "It just means you're both beautiful people and everyone wants you, which you already know," she added, sticking her tongue out.

Peyton came out before he could come up with any sort of reply, and then he lost all interest in the conversation.

"Now we just wait," Peyton said. "Three to five minutes," she added.

It was the longest few minutes of their lives. Soon they would discover if they would be parents, and the waiting was excruciating.

But Brooke was there to distract them, standing between them, one arm around each of them, reassuring them that all would be well no matter the outcome of the test. "And just think," the brunette stated expressively. "If it's positive, depending how far along you are, you could have an anniversary baby. Wouldn't it be awesome if it was the very same day? I don't know, do you think that would awesome? Maybe not."

Peyton and Nathan shared a look before Peyton responded. "But Brooke, honey, we got married at the end of the school year, remember? I'd have to be about six months along to deliver on our anniversary. I definitely don't think I'm that," she said, indicating her very flat belly.

"Umm yeah," Brooke answered knowingly. "Except that I'm referring to your first wedding from City Hall, not the second one you had later that everyone was at."

Now Nathan and Peyton shared a sharp glance, and they both spoke simultaneously. "You told her?" they both accused each other.

"Calm down," Brooke said. "Neither of you told me. No, that's not true. One of you told me, but not directly and not on purpose."

The couple stared at her dumbfounded, waiting for her to elaborate.

"And that person," she went on, "is the sleep talker of the group."

"That'd be you," Nathan threw out to a sheepish looking Peyton.

"Correct," Brooke said. "So, for future reference, P. Sawyer, if you ever have a secret you're trying to keep from hubby here, I suggest you send him out to the couch to sleep."

"She already does that," Nathan mumbled.

"Hmm, suspicious," Brooke joked. "Anything you wanna tell your husband, Goldilocks?"

"Yeah, anything you wanna tell me?" Nathan repeated in jest.

"Other than your jokes aren't as funny as you think they are, not really," Peyton said lightly before turning a serious expression to her best friend. "How long have you known?"

"A while," Brooke answered non-specifically.

"And you're not mad? Why didn't you say anything?"

Lifting a shoulder, Brooke answered. "Not mad," she said. "I mean, I wish you would have told me at the time, but then you guys were mad at me for organizing that whole sorta intervention thing so I figured it wasn't my place to say anything."

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" Nathan asked, but then shut up when Peyton sent him a warning glance.

"Brooke, that intervention was forgotten a long time ago. You know we can't ever stay mad at you."

"I know, but I figured I'd let you have your secret until you were ready to tell me. I just didn't think you'd never be ready."

"We're sorry, Brooke," Peyton said genuinely as Nathan nodded in agreement. "It was just something we had to do for ourselves."

"It's ok," Brooke assured them. She was a little hurt that they'd never confessed to her, but she could deal with it. Logically, she knew they were allowed to have parts of their lives that they didn't share with her. "I did think about calling you guys out on your anniversary, just to let you know you didn't fool me, but..." She let her words trail off, figuring they knew the rest. Obviously they knew she hadn't called them out as she'd considered doing.

"Who else knows besides you?" Peyton asked. Nobody had said a word to them.

"No one. Just me."

"You kept a secret?" Nathan questioned. He didn't mean to sound so surprised, but the surprise in his tone was there nonetheless, and very evident.

"I did, thank you very much," Brooke huffed. "You should know by now that I'd do anything for you two."

"Which is exactly why we choose you as Godmother," Peyton interjected perfectly. "That is, if that's a choice to be made."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Brooke asked impatiently. "It's been three minutes. What does the test say?"

"Yeah, what does the test say?" came the voice of Lucas Scott who'd just come in the front door, accompanied by the rest of their guests. Clearly they'd made plans amongst themselves to return at the same time. "Am I gonna be an uncle this year or what?" he asked, and Peyton was amused that he sounded just as eager and excited as Brooke and Haley had yesterday.

"Let's go find out," Nathan piped up, taking one of Peyton's hands while Brooke took the other. This time Peyton let them escort her to the bathroom counter where she'd laid the test.

The three of them looked down at the results, Nathan and Peyton's hearts beating erratically and practically out of their chests.

"Wait, maybe we should wait the extra two minutes," Peyton suggested nervously. "You know, just in case."

"Yeah," Nathan agreed. What was two more minutes to wait to discover whether or not their lives were about to change drastically? "It does say three to five, right?"

"Right."

"Ok," Brooke allowed. Somehow she was in charge now. But that was fine with the young married couple whose legs shook as they waited for the remaining time to pass in complete silence. As usual, they were glad for Brooke's support as the next two minutes determined the course of their lives.

...

A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed Part 1 of the epilogue. Stay tuned for Part 2. It will be the final entry for this story and will be much shorter than part 1and will take place approximately 6 months from the ending of this part. After that, this story will officially be complete. Thanks for sticking with me all this time. I sincerely appreciated all your support and I hope this ending, as well as part 2 of it is to your liking.