A/N: Oh. My. God. I loved this last episode so much. Seriously, the moment these two had at the end brought me to tears, and I raised my hands to the air, internally thanking Brenda Hampton, because finally. Anyway, when Ben told Adrian about taking her to the bookstore, I knew I'd have to write this, and soon. Gotta admit, it's pretty fluffy and maybe OOC, but hey, whatever, I'm in an awesome mood. Title comes from the song "Your Song" by Kate Walsh.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Ben, we are not naming our son Desmond," she tells him, stifling the urge to shudder at his appallingly horrible idea.

She can practically see a boy with her eyes and his hair being pushed into the corner by other kids his age with normal names. She allows her thoughts to focus on that; on what their child would possibly look like, and she absentmindedly strokes the side of her belly. He frowns, flipping through the pages of the thick book again, blissfully oblivious to Adrian's daydreaming. Heaving a sigh, he cranes his neck to look at her.

"Well, who said it was going to be a boy? Since you so graciously decided to order our OB/GYN to keep the sex of the baby a mystery a secret until you give birth. It could still be a girl, you know," he challenges, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes droop slightly to her barely-there bump, a smile dancing on his lips. "I really want it to be a girl."

Her lips quirk imperceptibly and she nudges his arm with her elbow, jutting her chin in the direction of the signature What To Expect When You're Expecting.

"I know you do."

"How about Mallory if it's a girl?"

She grimaced, shaking her head slightly. "No Ben. You must've totally forgotten about the fact that Adrian Lee is the mother of this baby and that we made an agreement; you get to choose the name if it's a boy, I get to choose the name if it's a girl. And we both have to agree on it," she reminds him when she can see that he's about to fight to put Desmond on the table.

He leans his head back against the shelf, restraining the urge to sigh. "Fine. You're right, I guess. Hypothetically speaking, what would you name our daughter?"

"Dylan?" He gapes at her, eyes bugging so wide that she's almost worried they're going to fall out of his sockets. She'll take that as a no. "Kyleigh?" His jaw sets, and she throws her arms up in the air with frustration. "Well, what do you want me to say, Ben?"

He gives her a pointed look. "Not those. They're...satisfactory at best."

Her eyes train themselves on one of the multitude of baby books spread across the floor between them, and her fingers fiddle with the hem of her (his) sweatshirt. "Well, there is one name I really like..." He inclines his head to the side and she takes a deep breath. "How do you feel about Blair?"

She doesn't know why she's so nervous about sharing her ideal baby name with him. Maybe it's the fact that it could get shot down because he doesn't like it or another of his lame excuses. But ever since Gossip Girl came on her screen and she saw that headstrong, passionate girl that hid so many vulnerabilities from the world, she'd fallen in love with her character; Adrian liked to believe it mirrored her own life, and she'd vowed to name her future daughter after the snarky trust-fund brat. She didn't know she'd be thinking about it at seventeen, of course.

"Blair...Blair," he muses, and she bites the inside of her lip. He turns to her with wide eyes. "I like it. Love it, actually." She beams up at him and he chuckles before turning serious once more, his expression indecipherable as his eyes search hers. "Although I do have one request." She raises an eyebrow and he inhales deeply. "Can her middle name be Sarah? You know...after my mother?"

Her lips open just slightly, and her heart speeds up, because there it was, that glimmer of something that gave her hope that maybe, one day, they could be so much more.

The fact that he trusts her.

She nods slowly, assuring him with a soft smirk. "Blair Sarah Boykewich."

He grins. "Is it just me or does that sound amazing?"

"I couldn't agree more." His eyes stay trained on her face, and she looks away, clearing her throat. "So we have our daughter's name. About our son's...well, we'll buy this book," she tells him, chucking a rendition of 10,000 Baby Names at him, biting back a smile as she watches him fumble for it and ultimately fail, "and we'll debate."

He grunts as he picks up the book, along with the book about her expectations and some stuff that tells her what's good for a newborn and an infant, because there was no way Adrian was leaving without those.

"Tonight? My place?"

"You know it."

"Will you go pay for these?" he asks, giving her the books before pulling out two hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet. He places his hands on his hips and sighs as he surveys their wrecking site. "I have to pick this mess up before we're banned from here."

She nods and walks toward the cash register.

"How are you doing today, ma'am?"

She looks up to stare at the cashier and smiles seductively, an alert going off in her head when she sees tan skin and a strong jaw.

"I'm doing fine. But I'm great, now."

Ryan - according to his nametag - smiles shyly, trying to discreetly rove his eyes over her frame and failing. She raises a skeptical eyebrow when he winks at her, despite the fact that she's aware of his knowledge that she's pregnant. A girl in a sweatshirt that falls to her thighs buying baby books is kind of a tip-off.

His eyes remain trained on her face as he places the books in the bag and hands her the change. Adrian knows it's wrong, but she feels her self-esteem rising to a new level when she discovers that she can still be deemed attractive when she's withchild. The father of her child may be just behind some shelves, and she may not want a relationship with anyone else at the moment, but Ryan's amazing smile and jade eyes are enticing, and she's surprised to find that she wants him to think she's hot.

"So hey, my shift is over in about a half hour. What do you say we get together and - "

"Are you done, Adrian?"

She closes her eyes in irritation and gives Ryan an apologetic smile as she looks at Ben. "Yeah. Just about. Give me a minute, will you?" Her voice is tainted with feigned innocence, and Ben sees right through it.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. We should really get going."

She's painfully aware of Ben's fingers on the small of her back as he stares down Ryan. She's also aware of how much less appealing the seemingly in-college guy is to her now that Ben's appeared. She doesn't really want to think of all the implications that would give her, so she grabs his arm and pulls him aside.

"Excuse us." She glares at him. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing?" he spits incredulously. "What are you doing? You're not supposed to be flirting with other guys when my child - when our child - is in your belly." Her teeth grind together and she fumes silently, eyes fixated on a spot on the wall behind his head as her foot taps in a monotonous rhythm against the floor. He swallows, eyes darting quickly to the waiting cashier before his eyes bore into hers. "You're mine."

Her eyes widen slightly and her heart thrums wildly against her ribcage. She's always wanted to hear those words come from someone's lips, and although Ben Boykewich is the last person she thought would ever tell her that, she finds that she doesn't mind.

Not in the slightest.

But he can't know that.

So instead, she rolls her eyes and groans as she stalks out of the bookstore, not bothering to give Ryan a second glance. She walks across the parking lot with her arms across her chest, him on her tail, trailing quietly behind her. She hopes he doesn't notice how she's desperately trying to cover up the way she's very aware of something fluttering in her stomach as she replays his posessiveness and jealousy in her mind, because she's never had someone care that much.

At first, she dismisses it as her unborn child acting about in her womb, but she closes her eyes for a moment when she realizes that it only ever happens when she's around Ben. She's not used to butterflies, she's not the type for that. Grace, Amy - those are the butterflies type of girls. They're the ones looking for the romance, for someone to love them.

Adrian was usually about the way her skin set on fire in the wake of someone's touch, the way her blood boiled in the pit of her stomach whenever someone so much as looked her way, the way she was never fully satisfied. She was usually after the chase, and she can't help but think that her abrasive independence is what got her into this whole mess in the first place.

She's sure it's what made her keep going back to Ricky.

The ghost of memories, of kisses that more likely than not led to ecstasy, of smiles and promises that still lingers around her heart begged to differ.

She shivers as a mixture of nostalgia and regret pulses through her veins, and Ben sighs inaudibly, moving next to her and running his hands lightly over her arms, mistaking her shiver as a reaction to the light breeze that passed. She closes her eyes and sets her hand over his, taking it gently, lacing their fingers together as something akin to hope settles in her stomach.

She breathes an inaudible sigh of relief when he throws a smile in her direction, only to frown when she feels it again - that stupid fluttering.

She's more like Amy and Grace than she thought, because here she was, hand-in-hand with the one guy that ever managed to make her feel safe nestled in a metaphorical cocoon of all the love he has to offer. His sole mission in life is to let someone know that he loves them, and she's someone who'd never admit that she's always wanted to know what it was like to be someone's everything. A steady throb encircles her head as she tries to decipher the meaning of it all.

This, them. Ben and Adrian. It's unexpected, it's different, it's comfortable.

Looking up at the guy in front of her with a smile in her eyes, having him brush his thumb along her cheek with something that can only be described as affection, appearing to be the walking ad for a perfectly happy couple; it ensures that she doesn't have a problem with that. She gives his hand a squeeze and reaches up on her tiptoes so their foreheads are pressed together. Slowly, almost unbearably so, she presses her lips to the corner of his mouth, subconsciously hoping to convey all her troubled feelings for him in the contact.

"I'm yours."

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