MORNING light filtered through the soft drapes of Dane's room and gently touched sleeping faces as they snuggled together in a way neither of them had expected or sought.

They fell asleep talking, they fell asleep sooner than planned. Sooner than they'd both hoped.

There was a lot to talk about and very little time to do it.

But it had been warm and soft and neither of them had been sleeping well in recent times and their bodies had just drifted off.

Sure they'd fought over whom would have what side of the bed; like they did anytime they slept in the same space (other than THAT night). Before snuggling in with him sleeping left and her right – as always.

The throw pillows from Margaret's sitting room were still piled on the floor beside the bed as Dane spooned Sarah. She was tucked in close to his body, he had his arms securely around her middle, with a hand draped protectively over their child.

It was romantic and heartbreaking in equal measure.

She was still asleep, he wasn't, not really.

He couldn't.

Part of him woke early, as it always did when he slept close to Fox.

He was painfully hard and the moment she woke, it would be painfully obvious and totally inappropriate given their current situation; he should leave and give himself a good seeing too in the shower. He didn't want to pressure her and they really shouldn't have sex just because his body wanted it and they'd done it before. He didn't know what the baby meant to them yet, for them. He was in a relationship with someone else, sure it was casual, but it was coming into awards season, and there were roles he wanted and he needed stability not scandal and this could be seen as a scandal if you didn't know them. The timing was so wrong. But the fact that his Fox was having a baby, his baby. kept repeating on a loop in his head. It was complicated anyway without him waking up with his cock weeping in his pajama pants, pressed hard against the most fascinating, infuriating and unpredictable woman he knew. But the feel of her body was too intoxicating and sleep making, he was dozy and more relaxed than he'd been in months. He was reluctant to break this spell. Reluctant until the world came crashing in on them – which it would. But not yet.

He smiled to himself, content like a cat in the warm sun despite his hard on. A memory of another time, the first time she'd woken up in his arms, filtered into his head. Unlike now when they were conservative 30 somethings in flannel PJs with knit-t tops, they'd been naked that morning. He'd been embarrassed that his young body had gifted him with morning wood. Was that normal? Would she feel pressured to do it again? He wasn't making it do that, it had a mind on its own and it had, to his relief, decided it really liked girls and there was one in his bed. They'd only talked about one night not the next morning. He'd been so worried about it all that he didn't feel her move; take in what she was doing until she took him in. She sucked on the tip of his cock, ran her tongue down it until his eyes rolled back in his head and he could take no more. He'd asked permission then, even if she didn't, permission to take her again and she'd smiled shyly as she'd scooted up his body and then wantonly she lowered herself down. He had to hold it up for her and she was obviously still a little sore, her muscles adjusting to having him or anyone in that intimate place, she hissed and flinched a little but still, she kept going, slowly, god so slowly. The sight of the naked Fox with her pert beautiful breasts bobbing as she slowly ate his cock with her pussy had almost brought him unstuck before she got half way but he closed his eyes and recited scenes from Hamlet until she groaned and he knew he was there, fully there. He hadn't lasted long that morning with his hands on her breasts as she moved on him but by god, it was still a memory that made him hard. Probably not the memory for right here right now though.

Right here right now was something different from that horny young lust.

He never verbalized it. but somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd always kind of thought one day he'd marry her. they'd have kids and a life.

But life was complicated.

And in the past five years, their lives had taken them in different directions. They were friends, family; she was someone to ground him when his life got insane. Someone to smack him back into shape when he got too big for his own britches; when he started believing his own publicity.

But as his world got bigger and busier, and so did hers, she'd almost become someone on the edge of his life. She didn't particularly like jet setting or expensive champagne or award ceremonies, she was a homebody, she worked hard and, other than her television career, liked behind the scenes, hiding in libraries. No Fox wasn't the sort of partner that a well-known and respected actor needed. She was outspoken and no-nonsense and wouldn't play the Hollywood schmooze game – great for a friend but not so good for a partner. The idea of them actually becoming a couple, husband and wife had started to seem remote.

Until you got here.

She was in his arms.

And his hand was resting on the child they'd made.

That unreal world of fame felt sordid right now, snuggled against his Fox, wanting to show her that her birthday was no one-off, no meaningless drunken fumble. No in this moment there wasn't a world outside this room, this bed.

Because in the morning light, with the woman who knew everything about him, feeling (deceptively) small and delicate in his arms, he could admit to himself that her birthday wasn't an accident and wasn't just about sex, it was him giving into something he carried with him – always.

As much as she infuriated and annoyed him – he loved her, counted on her, needed her.

Last night they'd both told the family that the pregnancy was the result of a haze of too much whiskey and loneliness and was all over quickly. And they'd been praised for their honesty by his sisters.

But they were lying their heads off.

He touched his hand to her stomach, trying to feel the bulge but not wake the mother. Whether they would admit it to others or even to each other he knew this baby had been made of love. He could just hear Fox making puking noises in response to a comment like that. But it was true.

If Bean was an accident, it was an accident waiting to happen.

He'd rung her two days before her birthday to ask her what she wanted to do. She was full of stories of people stopping her on the street and wanting to talk about Shakespeare after his birthday celebrations. She was smart and beautiful and had become a bit of a nerdy icon. It had freaked her a little and his last movie had propelled him into the spotlight even more so they'd decided against an expensive restaurant or out to the theatre, running into the paps, starting rumours. There had been rumours about them over the years though most people dismissed her as a friend, family.

And she was.

Except she wasn't.

So they decided to do something decadent – nothing.

He hadn't stopped in months and neither had she.

Netflix and chill.

That's what normal friends did in the normal world right?

Fox didn't visit normal much and neither did he if he was honest.

She'd arrived at his at 6.30pm on her birthday to find her the lights low – candles everywhere and her favourite expensive designer pizzas, expensive red wine and single malt waiting for her. The big television in his lounge room already on and their favourite raspberry cheesecake (with unlit candles) waiting for her.

Beautiful crockery, her weakness, this time from Morocco, wrapped carefully. She squealed – he knew what she liked, he should, they'd known each other forever now.

They'd polished off the pizzas and two bottles of wine by the time they made it to the second movie – an old favourite of hers – Roman Holiday. For someone who hated all sorts of romance and sentimentality and was quick to call it "all a load of shit", Fox' guilty secret was a love of Audrey Hepburn and this movie particularly. They'd been arguing about how this movie couldn't happen now in the world of mobile phones and social networks. She used her pointer finger to his chest to push home her point and in his tipsy state she'd pushed him down on the lounge, fallen with him, on him. Her body covered his and it took a heart beat for her lips to do the same.

His hands roamed her curves, her bra undone and his hands teasing her nipples in another beat. Their hands were everywhere and they rolled until they hit the floor, him on top of her now, kissing her, pulling at her jeans as fast as she could pull at his. He stood to get rid of the superfluous clothing and she was with him in another heartbeat, her own jeans down and off. He was still desperately trying to join her jean free, still locking lips, trying to move her towards his bedroom when she pushed him against the wall and climbed him. He fumbled with his wallet pulled out the condom and ripped it open with his teeth fumbling to get it on with her wrapped around him, kissing him hard. Not the shy young girl that he'd had all those years ago but a woman all woman, a woman who knew what she wanted, a prowling growling predator who was making him hard and spinning his head. But not entirely, he still had some control, enough to flip them. Her back hit the wall and she moaned his name. He felt the condom break as he pushed himself home, but he didn't care, couldn't care, hell he couldn't tell you his name at that point even though she was moaning it, screaming it, pulling his hair, wrapping him vicelike in the curl of her legs. It was hard and fast, a breathless, heart racing encounter which had them slumped against the wall together quickly, fighting for air for control, eyes wide, bodies alive as every nerve-ending flicked into action.

There was little recollection of the next few moments but somehow they finally made it to his room, made it to his bed, her upside-down slung over his shoulder. He was a caveman, a predator now, not the quaint English gentleman he was portrayed as in the papers. No the man between her knees eating her out to the point of release and then backing off, then going in again, was no gentleman but third time's a charm and she came hard and heavy and he was there again, condomed up and ready for action. And she was ready for him, he had the scratches and bites and she had the bruises to prove it. They weren't timid or quiet or holding back and they had a small condom supply in the drawer next to the bed to keep them going.

And somewhere in the early hours of the morning, after a run to the fridge for a water bottle to share, they wore each other out, drifting off, her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her.

"Welcome to 35 babe," he'd whispered.

"Shut up and go to sleep fuck toy," she sighed back and he laughed sleepily against her skin.

The morning, just like today, felt like magic. A warm summer morning with only a sheet to cover them, arms and legs entwined, sated, bruised but happy. They'd spooned but as the dawn broke she rolled in his arms and turned towards him, his eyes fluttering open slowly to her lazy, sleepy smile.

"Good morning beautiful," she said slowly and he laughed deep and gentle.

"That's my line," he sighed as their foreheads touched and then their lips.

It was languid and slow and gentle, nothing urgent now, achingly passionate as they kissed and he gently stroked her back with his fingertips until she sounded for all the world like a cat purring. His fingers did a slow lap down her shoulder, side, marveling at the feel of her shivering as they ghosted across the top of her bum and back up and around.

They kissed languidly too, tongues tangoing slowly.

He was hard, getting harder as her fingers worked their magic on his own back. Reaching into the draw across her he couldn't find the condom box; god knows what they'd done with it last night. He sighed it was too good all too good.

"I can't find the condoms but I don't want to stop doing," he purred under her fingers.

"Your 35 and our friends have proven........."

She kissed him then pulled him towards her, over her.

"And my cycle is still unpredictable," she sighed as she opened her legs and wrapped them around him and then he slowly made contact and then inched inside her. Every movement was slow, achingly so, lovingly so. Their arms were above their heads, their fingers intertwined as his hands trapped hers to the bed below them and his body did the same, moving, slowly, in and out, hard and slow, every cell alight as they moved, inched towards climax, as hit it all the right spots and she whispered all the right words in his ear. Dirty, beautiful, encouraging words and (for what he didn't realise was the first time in her life without a little digital stimulation) she came apart around him, teasing the cum from his body, pulling his seed to her, making their baby.

"Oh god I love you," he said as he came, his blue eyes fixed on her green ones.

"I love you too oh god Will I love you," she'd moaned.

He'd held her for a long time afterwards, felt her body twitching and spasming, still coming down, still vibrating. He'd felt smug that he could do that to her and so happy in their magic bubble.

It was her phone that popped it – an early meeting with a director friend about a stage play, his followed a few minutes later, a callback.

The world came in.

He'd promised to call her. He wanted to feel like they had again.

But fear, fear of the strength of emotion, fear of the future or losing the past or chasing this dream and losing the one he'd been on for so long, fear crippled him.

And he knew, as much as this felt right now, as much as being her with her, with them, made the endorphins flow through his body, put him back in that love bubble, he knew the world could get in again.

He wanted to protect her to be with her to watch the baby grow, to love them. But what would the cost be? Would he end up hating them? Her? He didn't want that and she'd made it clear they weren't a couple and they weren't going to be a couple last night.

Dane had been so shocked last night and then, to be honest, so excited in spite of himself. He'd made a baby and he'd done it with one of the most important people in his life. But she wasn't his girlfriend and in the morning light the reality of the situation, of what she'd said was powering to the fore. He was sure he'd change his mind a million times, just today, it was so much to take in. He loved change but not in his personal life, his personal life needed stability.

He was right on the cusp now, so close to cementing what he wanted from life, cementing his career. A big award nomination or two and the right roles, roles he was in discussion for, and he'd be set – this time next year the fact that Sarah was pregnant wouldn't matter, wouldn't really have the potential to hurt his career or dry up the work but right now it did.

It was a sobering thought.

A thought that propelled him out of bed and to the shower to work out some of his frustrations, a thought that made him pound the beach for five kilometres, only returning to shower again and go back to his room when he knew she'd be up and into the world.

The same thoughts were streaming through her head as she gently opened an eye and watched him leave the bed, the room, in the early morning light.

And if he'd turned around at that moment he'd have seen a single, unwanted, sentimental tear rolling down her cheek.