THE sounds of the house woke her up. The excited squeals of children reverberating through the beautiful old structure in a way that took her back to her childhood, well her teen-aged years at least; a way that dragged her out of her slumber but left her in a dream state, disorientated and confused.

Her eyes drifted open and in a moment of panic she wondered where she was and how she'd got there, the surroundings totally unfamiliar in the morning haze, still drowsy snuggled in a cocoon of duvet, sheets and the warm body next to her, spooning her protectively.

A warm body?

What the hell?

The haze started to clear, that beautiful feeling of total relaxation started to seep from her body like water through old brick work until she reached a point of total and complete clarity. The activities and events of the past few days hitting her psyche with a tidal-wave of emotions. Stress, anger, sadness, tiredness and sexual frustration, slammed her between the eyes.

"Shit!" she said almost to herself, realising where she was and who she was with. It made sense; she'd fallen asleep in the car, he'd carried her here (she half remembered that) but then where else was she going to sleep in a house full of Hilditch, where else but the one place she really really didn't want to be. The one person she didn't want to see and yet was unlikely to avoid in the sardine-can existence of Christmas with the family. Not her family though, not really, not by blood – well Neville, Ruby and Athena. She shifted uncomfortably, they were her blood, her kin – but not him – no not him. He was...........

She didn't know what he was.

Five months ago he was one her dearest friends and now.............now he was a source of pain and anguish, pain in more ways than one if you counted the one shooting down her legs from sciatica caused by her changing body, her changing centre of gravity.

Now he was the father of the fetus growing inside her and he had her off kilter.

Constantly.

He was under her skin – literally and figuratively.

She had almost convinced herself that they could and should be friends and then she'd seen the scan, their baby, an unmistakable look of him, too long and gangly already. Perhaps if she hadn't seen Bean before the Christmas drinks at the library on Friday night then she wouldn't have turned Greg from Geographical down. She never had before. But she couldn't drink this time, maybe you had to drink to find Greg from Geographical attractive enough to fuck. She'd certainly kissed him but even that felt like a betrayal. She kissed him and the shot of serotonin must have hit Bean, given it a wake up call. That's what had happened, Bean had moved and reminded Sarah of it's existence and she'd decided she couldn't have a stranger poking around in Bean's house.

Yes, that was what had happened.

She wished she hadn't now – she woke up alone and still horny – fucking pregnancy hormones. She woke up alone, horny and to pictures of Dane having a romantic time in Paris with his girlfriend.

She was angry.

With herself mainly.

She knew he had a girlfriend, he was entitled to a life.

She wanted him to have a life.

This was her mantra.

Bean was hers, her responsibility, her life. He hadn't asked her for a baby – well not in recent decades. This wasn't a planned decision but keeping it was – though the decision had been hers and hers alone, she had never asked him. Maybe he didn't want to be a father not to her child. Oh god, she hated this, hated to second guess herself.

And of course, part of her played with the fantasy of a happy family. Part of her reminded her that she was carrying Dane's baby, the child of the man she loved.

Of course, then the world came in and reminded her that it wasn't romantic love, on his part anyway. Reminded her that romantic love and happy ever after were bullshit.

By yesterday evening, however, she was back in control, the pictures were a wake-up call.

And now this - Christmas morning, his body moulded to hers, his breath on her shoulder, his arm protectively around her middle, claiming what was already his – his child, her.

Sarah felt the anger swell again – he had taken liberties, lured her here in her sleep, it was nothing to him, sleeping arrangements only - but to her........

"Shit!" she said again, this time a little louder.

"Go back to sleep darling," he murmured sleepily in her ear.

She let out an angry sigh and pushed his arm off her, pushed him away.

"Saaarrrahh," he groaned. "It's too early for this."

"Your side of the bed," she growled. "I realise we have to share but that doesn't mean you should be in my personal space. I'm sure your girlfriend would be horrified."

Half asleep still he laughed.

"Don't have a girlfriend."

Would he have said it had he been more awake, less blissfully comfortable, less sure he had what he want?

God knows but probably not. He knew better than to flash a red rag to the angry, beautiful bull-headed historian in his arms.

She lost it.

She was always going to lose it.

She was hungry, trapped, frustrated, angry and in the back of her mind she was hurt, really hurt and that mucked with her head more than anything.

"Oh, and what the hell were those pictures in Paris then – you walking your pet French Poodle?" she hissed.

"We're friends Dane don't you dare lie to me just because you knocked me up. I wouldn't take it before and I sure as hell won't take it now," Sarah said low and mean, getting her point across without wanting to draw attention to herself, to them. She could still hear excited voices downstair, the bubbling giggles of children on Christmas morning, of Thena just as excited but trying to keep her gaggle of young nieces in check, the odd murmur of an adult voice – Lizzy she suspected, though it could have been Lydia. That's where she should be, she didn't want to stand here and be lied to. Why would he? What was he after? Did he have some weird pregnancy kink? Well, wouldn't his fans love to know that!

She slid angrily out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor was even more of a wake-up call, what she needed now. She hadn't thought to check how many clothes she still had on but it seemed like he'd only taken off her shoes and socks, leaving her usual uniform intact. The room was warmish but after the bed, she knew she'd need a dressing gown – god she hated those things and slippers – something else she wasn't enamoured with. But her body was running warmer than usual – all that extra blood that comes with pregnancy, with incubating a little person inside yourself. Another thing to hate him for right?

Maybe. Rationality was going out the window fast. But she didn't care.

Sarah stomped over to where her suitcase had been placed near the wardrobe, not watching where she was going and stubbing her toe on one of his bags for her trouble.

He was still causing her pain.

"Shit!" she said hopping on one foot and grabbing her toe as best she could, a week or two more she wouldn't be able to see her toes let alone touch them.

Dane moved in the bed, drawn by the commotion, he tried not to laugh at the sight of his pregnant friend bouncing around like Tigger – laughter would mean death stares and at the very least an extremely angry Fox, she was almost there now. He wasn't going to be the one to push her over. Plus she may have hurt herself, broken a toe, but at least it didn't look like she fell, heaven forbid she did that.

"Are you okay?" real concern lacing his words, worry replacing any hint of mirth that may have threatened to enter his voice.

"No I'm bloody well not," she hissed still trying not to wake up the rest of the house. "My toe is bleeding and my feet are freezing."

"I'll help," he said pulling himself out of the warm cocoon, she was right – it was cold, he scrambled his feet under the bed looking for his own slippers and chastising himself for not putting hers there too. He couldn't think of everything and he'd been tired, dog tired, by the time he'd tumbled into bed last night after helping his sisters with the final wrapping of those "special" Christmas presents now probably being laid-waste in the loungeroom.

"Stay where you bloody are," she growled.

"I don't want or need your help I'm perfectly capable of getting my own bloody clothes and fixing my own damn toe and raising my own damned child!"

She was really angry now as she leaned over to get to her bag. It was getting more difficult as her bump got bigger and that wasn't helping her mood. He cautiously moved towards her, her toe was bleeding and her face looked like thunder but he bent down and moved the bag to the bed wordlessly.

"I didn't need your help," she hissed through clenched teeth as she unzipped the bag.

"Just trying to make it easier," he sighed back.

"Guilt? Guilt and remorse that you got me this way and I'm stuffing up your love life – well you're stuffing up mine too you bastard," she said turning to poke him in the chest. But he sensed her coming and grabbed her arm shocking her into the silence he needed.

"Fox I don't have a love life, not with Sabine, not really, I mean we will in public while the award season is on but I went to Paris to tell her about you, about Bean, about us," he said quickly looking into her stormy green eyes.

"There is no us and now she'll spread it all over the fucking place," she hissed not wanting to be easily placated and squirming to get out of his grasp.

"And you can stop that right now too!" she said with a little less venom, suddenly placing her free hand on her tummy and looking down.

"Oh god was that Bean, did it move?" his eyes suddenly wide looking at her T shirt. She had to laugh, and before she thought about it she was grabbing his free hand and placing it on her tummy.

"It'll stop now, Bean doesn't perform for anyone!" she said just as a small movement moved Tom's hand.

She sighed. "Make a liar out of me you little traitor!" she laughed.

"Oh my god!" he said his blue eyes so wide now she was sure they would bug out of his head.

And suddenly he kissed her, one hand still on her wrist, the other still on her stomach waiting for more movements, he couldn't help it. It was real, more real than the scan, the pictures. 

"Our baby, oh my god I felt our baby," he whispered against her lips.

"I'm still angry," she whispered back and he chuckled, letting go of her hand and touching her hair reverently. She'd tell you she looked a fright, he thought she was beautiful.

He wanted to tell her he loved her because right at that moment he loved her so much his chest might burst.

And so he did and then he kissed her before she could protest, their hands now entwined on her tummy, her other pulling him closer, as close as she could Bean considered.

Somehow the gentle kiss became more, rougher, wanting, clothes were lost, her bag dropped to the floor and before he knew it she was there naked sinking down on him, her pregnant belly touching his own stomach. The sexiest thing he'd ever seen, riding him, taking him. He moved to grab at her breast, her really voluptuous breasts, eyes big as she used him hard for her own pleasure, and his. She flinched a little and he pulled back.

"It's okay, they're just a bit tender," she said grabbing and placing them back on her frankly spectacular breasts – thank you hormones.

He didn't last long, neither did she with a bit of digital help – but she knew she'd be back for more later, he'd created a monster, she was feeling well again despite the odd bout of nausea and what they said about second trimester hormones had not been the wives tale she'd thought. She was as horny as a toad.

And he felt good.

She wasn't sure what to make of his declaration.

But as she spooned in his arms after her first man-made climax in five months she didn't really care.

"Don't think this means anything, it's just sex and the hormones are making me horny," she warned him drowsily.

"Yes dear!" he chuckled against her neck. He'd pay for that one later.