Once again, apologies that I didn't post this at the same time as Sunday's update. As sometimes happens, I had an idea right at the end of writing this and then the rest didn't quite fit. So after another wonderful email exchange with the fabulous LetItReign and a night in on my own, I finally managed to make this work. I hope anyway.

So here's the rest of your 2-4-1 special. Courtesy of Mr Ambrose this time round. And I know I said in the first part that there was no big smut scene. But I just can't help myself. I would apologise, but I'm sure none of you will be mad about the inclusion of such a scene.

WARNING: The usual (well, the usual when it comes to Dean and Becca anyway - they don't play ball. They play rough.)

DISCLAIMER: The usual

Enjoy x

I wanna talk tonight
Until the mornin' light
'Bout how you saved my life
You and me see how we are
You and me see how we are
Talk Tonight, Oasis

Dean's POV

Becca's hips move freely under my hands as she grinds against me. Her breasts brush against my face as she reaches above my head, a fist hitting the wall as a moan tears from her throat. The headboard is hard against my back, but I couldn't give a shit, not with the way her pussy is gripping my dick.

She hisses as my mouth closes around a hard nipple, tugging softly at first before my teeth scrape sharply. Looking up, I'm enthralled by the look of ecstasy on her flushed face. She pauses, causing me to groan loudly as she shifts, her legs moving from either side of my thighs until her knees brush against the sides of my torso.

"Fuck..." she whimpers, her nails scrapping against the headboard as she grips hard and starts to bounce once again.

My hands slide under her ass, spreading her cheeks and making her whine as she slams herself down on my length.

"Becca..." My eyes are squeezed shut, determined to hold off my own climax until she reaches hers.

"Go on," she urges, her hands dropping to my shoulders as she takes me in deep, twisting slowly.

I growl in response, my fingers digging in hard as I force her back to moving up and down, where I can control my own desires and not give in.

"Dean, oh..." She tightens around me, her head rocking back as I latch back onto her breast, biting softly as her orgasm rips through her, my name lost in a harsh sob.

I'm quick to flip her, pushing her into the mattress, pulling her legs around my waist as I thrust into her. Her back arches in response, my hand coming up to push the hair from her face and she murmurs softly.

"Do it..."

My hand slips to her throat, squeezing gently as her eyes flutter closed and her body tenses in response. Her hands drop above her head and she smiles softly as I reach for them with my free hand, pinning her down as I squeeze again, my hips jack-hammering against her.

She gasps as I release her throat, my head dropping down to kiss away the faint red marks from my fingers. I'm so fucking close, her hot breath on my ear, her soft murmurings as I tighten my hold around her wrists and slam into her one final time.

I collapse against her, panting from exhaustion, my head spinning. Her fingers slide softly through my hair, her lips pressing against my forehead as I pull out of her and ease her legs from around my waist.

But she won't let me roll away, not yet anyway. We collect our breath, our bodies pressed together, almost sealed from sweat and who knows what else. It's been carnage since we entered the room, pressing her against the door, tugging her shirt over her head, biting her nipples through her bra. Watching her sink to her knees in her tight leather skirt and drawing out my dick. She let me fuck her mouth, my hand cupping the back of her head as she held my gaze, her lips stretched around me, before I pulled back and unloaded with a grunt on her face.

My anniversary gift, she informed with a grin beforehand. A belated one, she told me as she unzipped me.

Thanks to schedules, we're a few weeks late to celebrate, but fuck... It was worth the wait.

Hence my grumbling at dinner. Well, before the big announcement anyway. Becca knew I was pissed at the thought of spending the evening with others, rather than just her, but even on the way back to the hotel, I had to admit it was worth it.

It felt odd at first. It felt like only yesterday we were sat in that bar, bullshitting our way through an evening when Lex and Siobhan strolled in through the door. Thinking about it, Seth and I seem to have been through every milestone with them – first and second encounters, moving in, exchanging vows.

And now this. Despite his recent cheerful mood, I hadn't put two and two together. I was vaguely aware of what was going on between the pair over the last few months. Travelling together means overhearing conversations that should have remained private. But I wasn't about to spill the beans. I kept my mouth shut, not even telling Becca what I'd heard. I played dumb, refusing to pry into his and Lex's business. There were times where I wanted to tell him that I had figured out what was behind his sullen moods, especially when they lasted for hours on the road. But what could I say?

I know fuck all about that stuff. There was nothing I could say that would make it any better. So I stayed quiet.

Becca nudges me softly. "I need to pee."

I groan as I roll off her, watching as she sits up and stretches slowly before moving off the bed towards the bathroom.

"Did your high-school girlfriend's dad really drag you from the car when you were making out?" she calls out to me over the sound of running water.

"Yup. Threatened to castrate me there and then too," I chuckle as her head pokes around the door. "Your dad never threaten any boys?"

She shakes her head. "I never took them home," she grins. "Only girl in the family, remember? No boy was going to stand a chance against my older brothers."

"So you played innocent, huh?"

She nods, approaching the bed. "I'm pretty sure they and my dad still think I'm a virgin." I snort loudly in response and she raises an eyebrow. "You saying I'm not innocent, Ambrose?"

"You're anything but, darlin'," I grin, pulling her against me, my lips finding the back of her neck.

"I'm sure you'd want to believe the same if it was our daughter," she murmurs. I barely notice how she freezes in my arms, too busy wondering why a niggle of excitement is building in my stomach, my lips twitching into a small grin.

"Shit," Becca is mumbling. "I didn't mean..."

"Huh?"

She twists in my arms, her forehead creased in worry. "I meant hypothetically."

"What's hypothetical?"

"A.. A family," she stammers. "It just slipped out, I didn't mean... Fuck."

"You want one?"

Her eyes narrow slightly. "Are you asking hypothetically?"

"I'm just asking."

"Maybe."

I nod slowly. "With me?"

"Dean... I..." But I press my finger to her lips.

"With me?" I repeat, slowly easing my finger away so she can answer.

"Maybe," she whispers, her cheeks flushing.

I chew my lip, letting her solitary word wash over me.

Maybe.

Definitely not a no. Halfway to a yes.

"I didn't mean to ruin tonight." She's slipping from my arms, pushing away the covers, her back to me. "I'm such an idiot."

She rises before I can make a move, heading back to the bathroom, swiping a shirt from her suitcase in the process. The bathroom door slams behind her.

Fuck.

So maybe that wasn't the best response I could have given her. To be honest, it was probably the worst. But I was too busy thinking about the fact that she'd thought about that being a possibility. With me no less.

Me.

She is beyond perfect. Too fucking perfect. Too good for me. She's beautiful, both inside and out and I love every part of her in equal measure. But I sometimes wonder why. Why she puts up with me, why she wants a relationship with a guy who can't be there for her all the time. I wonder how she envisions this going forward, when she wants more and I can't give it to her for whatever reason. I mean, I know I'll try to make her happy, but there might be times where I fail to meet that standard and what then? What's to stop her from tossing in the towel and removing herself from my life? What's to stop her from finding someone who can give her everything she wants and be by her side at all times?

My mind has a tendency to wander whilst I'm driving. I have a habit of thinking of the worst case scenarios and watching them play out in minute detail in my mind's eye. I imagine slipping up, making a damning indiscretion. I imagine retreating back to my old self, the Dean who fucked anything with legs. I watch in horror as my actions catch up with me. I imagine coming home and finding she's no longer there as a result.

Being alone never bothered me before. I was happy with a select few close enough to know me almost as well as I know myself. I was guarded, never staying with one person to let my emotions get the better of me.

And then Becca turned up, all five-foot-something of blonde, brown-eyed teasing fun. I let her in and I have no regrets whatsoever. She's been the best thing that's ever happened to me, guiding me through the past year with ease, even though it was really a case of the blind leading the blind. She makes me realise that I can do this, but at the same time, I worry that one day my hand will slip from hers and I'll fall.

I don't want to be alone anymore. I can't go back to that, not now I know what it feels like to be wanted and loved and to want and love back. I never thought that anyone could truly care for me, truly miss me. I never thought that I could truly care for someone other than myself. I never thought for a second that I could miss a woman for more than one reason.

I curse under my breath, staring at the closed door. All that and what do I do? I slip and fall.

I made her confess something and then said nothing at all.

Fuck.

But it wasn't for the reasons that she obviously thinks.

No, instead of feeling the emotions that I had expected, I was caught up in the unnerving warmth that started to spread through me. I was too busy thinking about what it might feel like to be in Roman and Lex's position. I was too fascinated by the idea of Becca thinking the same. Too preoccupied to smile and tell her that the thought had crossed my mind, maybe even more than once.

Because that's what you do when you're in love, right? You think about these things. I mean, I know we're years away from any of that, but we can still about it, surely?

It's a natural progression... Right?

Or... Maybe not. Maybe you're not supposed to. Maybe you're supposed to take things slow, think things through in order. And maybe that's why Becca is currently stood on the other side of that door.

We don't even live together for one thing. Even thought we do seem to spend an equal amount of time in each other's apartments. Her key is firmly fastened to my own bunch and vice versa. Sometimes I just head straight to hers when I'm home, not even bothering to dump my laundry at my own place. I'm on first name terms with Becca's elderly neighbour, having helped her climb the stairs on more than one occasion. And Becca? Well, she's recognised more than me in the coffee shop on my block, her order already being called out by one of the baristas, the second she walks through the door.

But it's not like I haven't thought about it. Living together. Like I said, a lot of time on the road leads to these thoughts working their way around my brain, like an endless game of Snake. With each twist and turn, they grow bigger, bolder. It started out innocently enough, a viewing of an apartment in a complex a few blocks away. A definite step up from my current place with its balcony and floor to ceiling to windows to enhance the view further. I'd absentmindedly mentioned it to Becca, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of lazy days at mine, spending them lounging on the sun-trapped, yet surprisingly private balcony.

Her delight had led my brain down a path which lured me further and further along without even realising. Until it was too late. I imagined coming home to our apartment. To opening the door and instantly seeing her stuff mixed in with mine. With every viewing of the apartment, I started to wonder what it would be like to come home and see her lounging on our couch, sleeping in our bed, standing on our balcony, eating in our kitchen, showering in our bathroom. It was the simple things that got to me, that spurred me on.

Was it too much to want that? Was it too soon to want that and more?

The old part of my brain screamed at the stupidity. What a dumb fucking idea, it muttered incessantly. But I was determined to ignore old me. Old me only cared about me. And I wasn't old me anymore.

Not that new me was charging ahead. No, new me was still hesitant. But only because I didn't want to move to fast for her. I've spent hours debating how to approach the subject, yet still haven't had the balls to breathe a word. Even when I signed the papers on the apartment last week, my initial idea to tell her tonight, I lost my fucking nerve.

That and just as I was about to tell her, she'd kissed me, her hand slipping between us to rub teasingly at my dick. I decide that it was best to leave it. I didn't want to spoil the moment.

Although that didn't go quite to plan in the end. I scrape a hand over my face and push back the sheets. Reaching to the floor, I pick up my boxers, standing as I pull them up.

I cross the room and tap gently on the bathroom door. "Becca?"

Silence.

I try the handle and it gives way easily. I push the door open slowly, peering around. My eyes meet hers through the mirror. They're red and puffy and I feel myself crumple.

"Becca..." I move inside, closer, reaching for her. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not," she sniffs, her arm moving out of reach.

"Why are you hiding in here?"

"I'm not."

I frown, unsure where to go next and then sigh quietly. "Was it something I... I didn't say?"

"I shouldn't have said anything," she says adamantly, her hand scrunching up a tissue. "Forget about it."

"No."

"I didn't mean it."

"Mean what?" I step closer and this time she doesn't move away from me. My hand circles her wrist. "You mean you don't want a family with me?"

She looks away.

"Do you think I'm mad at you?" I ask, my hand slipping into hers, pulling her towards me.

"I don't know."

"Because I'm not."

"You should be."

I stare at her through the mirror, my other hand coming up to cup her face, turning her gaze towards the mirror, forcing her to meet my eye in the reflection. "Why would I be mad when the woman I love tells me she sees a future with me?"

Her face softens ever so slightly, but her voice is still firm when she answers. "It's too soon."

"Maybe. But I don't care about that," I say softly as I curl my arm around her waist, moving behind her to rest my chin on her shoulder.

"It's silly though. We don't even live together."

I grin over her shoulder, the words building up inside me. But now is not the time or place. I choose more carefully instead. "So if we did live together, you'd be more happy to think about these things?"

A smile tugs at her lips and relief washes over me. "Still too soon. It was just tonight. Seeing Lex and Roman all happy. Made me wonder what it would be like to be in their situation."

"You ever thought about having kids before?" I murmur, my lips brushing over her shoulder.

She shrugs. "I guess. One day. You?"

"I dunno. Reckon I need to stop being a kid myself first."

Becca chuckles softly. "You're not a kid, Dean."

"Fine, a more responsible adult then."

"You're better at it than you think," she turns in my arms. "I thought you'd freak."

"Why?"

"One minute you're nutting on my face, choking me on demand. The next I'm talking shit about an imaginary child."

I press my lips to her forehead. "Kinda one of the same thing, don't you think?"

She pulls back with a puzzled frown. "Explain that logic to me."

"Trust," I tell her. "The stuff we do in there," I jerk my thumb towards the bedroom. "That ain't just about what I do to your body. You gotta trust someone up here too." I press my lips to her forehead.

"Your point being?"

"I know how much you trust me with all that, Becca. And I'm not a jerk. I'm not going to fuck with your mind and make out that the crazy shit we do in bed means nothing outside of it. You have no idea how it makes me feel when you place that faith in me. I'm not going to mess with that. Not in there, not here. Especially not with this."

My nose rubs against hers as I lower my mouth to her soft lips.

"I think about it too," I murmur as we pull back.

"About what?"

"Us." More than you realise.

"Does it scare you?"

"Sometimes," I confess. "Becca, I dunno what I'm doing half the time. The only place I used to feel fully in control was in the ring. Outside of that I was a mess."

"Was?"

I chuckle. "You implying I still am?" I toy with a loose strand of hair that grazes her cheek, shaking my head before lowering my mouth to her ear, grinning at my reflection as I watch her visibly shiver as my breath hits her sensitive lobe. "Truth is, darlin', I'm less of a mess because of you."

"Dean..."

"You make me a better person, Becca. Why the hell would I want to do anything to change that?"

She pulls back, her cheeks flushing as she chews her lip. "You really see me that way?"

"How do you think I see you?"

"I don't know..." she admits. "I try not to think ahead. I try not to think about what's going to happen next month, I try to focus just on when I see you next. But sometimes I can't help myself. I've never... I've never felt that way about anyone, Dean. I've never seen a future with anyone and that's–"

"Terrifying?" I suggest. Hell, it's how I feel right now. Once again, the words are there. Right there, willing me to take them.

"Yeah... Terrifying. But not just that." She pauses, searching for the right word. "It's terrifying but kind of exciting."

The feelings that took over my ability to speak earlier are back. But I don't need words. I squeeze her tightly, nodding in agreement as I kiss her again. And again.

Fuck the rules. Fuck doing this the right way. Fuck boring ass sex and conventional anniversary gifts.

"Becca..." I breathe against her mouth. "I..."

"Ssh," she tells me, her hand slipping to mine, pulling me back to the bedroom. "No more talking."

And despite my better judgment, I keep my mouth shut.

I stifle a yawn as I make way out into the arrivals hall, my neck cracking from built up tension caused by plane seats that weren't met for those over six foot.

"Dean!"

I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound of my name. I don't need this. Not now. Not with my bed calling me. But I turn anyway, prepared to plaster on a half-assed smile at the very most.

My eyes widen when I see Becca.

"Surprise," she grins, two coffees in hand.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were out of town this week." I reach for her, pulling her against my side as she tries to keep the coffee cups steady. I breathe in her familiar fragrance, my lips finding the top of her head.

"Change of plans. I took some vacation days instead. To make up for our non-existent anniversary celebration."

"I thought we celebrated last week," I say as she hands me one of the cups.

"Doesn't count. It was barely 12 hours," she tells me as we head to the exit. "This time you got me for 48." She casts me a sly look. "Imagine what we can do this time..."

We pause to cross the over the drop-off zone and I take the opportunity to pull her against me once again. "You think you can handle that, darlin'?"

"I've been warming up," she whispers back causing me to groan.

"Fuck, Becca..."

She giggles, stepping in front of me as we cross and head for the parking lot.

She chats animatedly as we head back into the city. I sip my coffee and listen, her voice comforting. Her car is warm, familiar, the radio tuned into whatever she's decided she likes best this week.

I'm on the verge of falling asleep once again when the car slows to a halt.

"Hey," she murmurs, her fingers fluttering over my forehead. "You're exhausted, babe."

"I'm good," I promise, shaking my head and blinking furiously. I realise that we're outside her apartment block rather than mine.

"Do you want to go back to yours?" she asks. "We can meet up later if you want to get some sleep?"

But I shake my head again. "Nah, I always sleep better here anyway."

A small smile. "I like that you do."

"Yeah?"

She unbuckles her seatbelt and shifts closer, leaning across the central console to kiss my cheek. "I'll get your stuff. Go to bed."

I'm too tired to argue, rustling the keys from my backpack as I head up the steps to the entrance. I barely remember getting through the apartment door, making my way across her lounge and into her bedroom, before face-planting onto her bed.

Cool fingers stroke the back of my neck and I twist slowly to find their source. Becca's soft brown eyes meet mine, her body curled against me.

"What time is it?" I ask, my voice rough with sleep.

"Just after midday," she tells me, her fingers still stroking.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"You took time off work and all I do is sleep."

She chuckles. "I don't mind. I quite like listening to your snoring."

"You're weird, you know that?" I roll onto my side to face her properly.

"You don't think it's weird that you now sleep better here than at your place?" she counters with a raised eyebrow.

I shrug against the sheets. "Maybe."

That word again.

She eyes me carefully. "Dean..." she starts, before trailing off.

"What?"

"I've been thinking about last week."

"What about last week?"

"In the hotel. What we talked about."

I nod slowly. I wondered when this was going to come up again. The moment I kissed her goodbye the following morning, I regretted keeping silent. The question had been on the tip of my tongue once again, but there was barely enough time for breakfast before her flight home, let alone a loaded question about where our relationship was moving.

"I mean, we talked about a lot of stuff. About us, I mean."

"I remember," I encourage.

"You asked me if it would be easier to think about those things if we lived together."

"I did." My heart picks up pace, thudding brazenly against my chest as she ponders her next words.

"I don't know if it would make it easier..."

I swallow hard. Maybe old me was right. Shit. Fuck.

"But I'd like to give it a go."

My breath catches in my throat, my voice croaking as I speak. "Give it a go?"

"Living together," she whispers. "Like properly. Well, not properly as we'll still only see each other when we can, but y'know, not just have keys to each others places. Have... Have our own place. Together."

"Together," I echo.

"If... If you want to as well." Her voice drops lower, her eyes darting away and I scramble to find the right words to stop a repeat of last week. Words that I imagined her saying rather than me, but words that fill me with excitement nevertheless.

"I want to."

Her gaze rises slowly. "Really?"

"Really," I affirm.

"I don't mind where," she murmurs. "Here, your place. Wherever you want."

I curl my arms around her and roll onto my back, taking her with me. She settles above me, her legs sliding alongside my waist and thighs.

"How about neither?" I ask, a smirk tugging at my lips.

She looks at me, confused. "What do you mean?"

"How about somewhere new?"

"New? Dean, I'm not suggesting we buy–"

"Neither am I."

She frowns. "Dean..."

"That apartment I told you about."

Her frown deepens for a second and then: "You mean–"

"Yeah," I grin, as realisation dawns on her face. "The one I showed you a while back."

"With those floor to ceiling windows and that balcony?"

"That's the one."

"And you want to move in there with me?"

"If you want to." I smile. "I kind of already signed for it..."

"What?"

"It was kind of my anniversary gift to you," I confess.

"The apartment or asking me to move in with you?"

"Well, you kinda beat me to the latter," I chuckle and she blushes. "And the former seems a little forw–"

"It's not."

I give her a curious look. "I think most people would beg to differ."

"We're aren't 'most people,'" she whispers.

True.

"So is that a yes?" I ask with a smirk. But she doesn't reply. Instead, her mouth crashes against mine in a blistering kiss.

"Yes," she breathes against my lips as she draws back and then blushes.

"What?" I stroke her cheek with my thumb.

"Kinda makes my 'gift' seem pretty inadequate now," she tells me.

"Never," I hold her gaze firmly.

"I let you face-fuck me," she whines with a giggle. "That definitely pales in comparison to this."

"You forget what else we talked about last week?"

"No..."

"So?" I prompt.

"I trust you, you trust me," she tells me.

"Exactly. And was that?"

"Trust."

"And what's trust?"

She shrugs her shoulders.

"Everything, darlin'" I pull mouth back to mine. "Everything."

Fin x

A/N: Two things... One, this will be the last from me for a couple of weeks. Real life is taking over - my gorgeous bestie is getting married in January, so the next few weekends are taken up with last minute hen party planning, dress fittings and the hen party weekend itself.

Secondly, I will obviously still be thinking about what's in store for all three couples, but in the mean time, I wondered about following other authors' leads and putting together a story/photo album... This also follows on from a couple of people asking who inspired my OCs. Whilst I'm not a particularly visual person, there have been many times where I've looked for inspiration for locations, outfits and so on for all three couples - I know I would be doing this totally backwards, but would anyone be interested in seeing that retrospectively?! Let me know... Until next time x