Okay if you don't hate me you're going to laugh. I was sitting on my bed, eating my favorite food: Guacamole, of all things, when I remembered this story. I only truly remembered it because this mean review about how I never wrote the fifteenth chapter came to mind, and how I needed to either continue it consider it abandoned so you all wouldn't be left in suspense. I guess that excited me to write since I'm on summer break (after it pissed me off of course). SOOOO shoutout to whoever sent that; this chapter goes to you. Enjoy. -Laurice

APOV:

I quickly composed my face and emotions, rubbing my now sweating palms down my maternity jeans. I haven't even grown enough to need them, Christian just over worries. Oh my Fifty. Clearing my head of my distraction, I place the very phone that got me into this mess in my back pocket. When I step in the room, Fifty is trying to look as reprimanding as possible with a red, stuffy nose.

"You called, my love?" I play nonchalant.

"Anastasia, now's not the time." He responds flatly. At this point my subconscious is weighing my options of continuing to try to wear him down or just taking my scolding like a woman. Fuck the woman power, save your ass Steele! My subconscious screams at me, looking through her filing cabinet frantically for the rules of "wearing down your husband".

Rule 1) Play nonchalant. Check.

Rule 2) Facial Expressions.

I quickly shift my face, already biting my lip from thinking over my plan, and shift my head down while looking up at him. Even from across the room on our ruffled bed, he's being affected. The deep sigh is all I need before I release my lip to crack an all-knowing smile. I saunter over to the bed, making sure he knows, that I know I've won.

Check.

Sitting on the bed in front of him, both of our legs in front of us criss-crossed, I settle to hear what he has to say. "No."

"But Christian…"

Looks like I haven't won quite yet, my subconscious licks her finger and flips the rule book back open.

Rule 3) Pouting

"Don't give me those puppy eyes and that pouty lip, you know how I feel about you fighting, pregnant or not."

"Why do you sound like my dad right now?"

"Someone's gotta be the boss babe." He says with a smirk.

"I'll have you know I own a successful publishing company as of… as of… as of sometime." All was going so well for me until he jumbled up all my senses with his close proximity. Dammit Grey.

"I'll show you a real boss, Mrs. Grey." He quickly, although carefully and softly, lunges at me, catching me under him. We somehow squirm and wrestle until we're both breathing hard, laying sideways on the bed, his hands holding both of my wrists above my head, and my feet hanging off the end. He's careful to keep his knees separated on each side of my thighs, putting no weight on me, while still displaying his ever-present dominance.

"What are you gonna do? Bonk me over the head and carry me to your lair, Mr. Caveman?" I joke, completely liking where this supposed reprimand is going.

"Haven't you noticed? You're already in my lair. Baited and hooked Anastasia, bated and hooked." He switching between looking into my right and left eye, and the mood quickly shifts from playful to something warmer. It's not necessarily sexy, and in the back of my head, something's telling me it's a family moment, even with the twins not in the world yet.

I quickly crane my neck up and peck him on the lips, still aware of his fever, and possible illness, but still wanting to show him my undying love.

"Oh no you don't, my fair lady." He quickly tries to sneak another kiss, and I turn my head, more of a damsel in distress rather than his fair lady. He's relentless in his attacks, loving none the less, rubbing his face all over the skin exposed. My jaw, neck, and collarbones are now being covered in the delicious burn of stubble and his loving nips and kisses. I would enjoy if I didn't see he was trying to get me sick.

"That's what it's come to? Trying to get your Mrs. Grey, your love, your fair lady, sick? I'm shocked and appalled.

"Says the one who tried to kill me with the heart attack I got from hearing from Bastille!" I roll my eyes rather than dignifying it with a response. "I'm serious though, I love you, but there's no way I'm letting you in a room with that man with any intention even close to exercise." He finished off with an eyebrow raise. I raise my right one right back.

"Fine."

"Really?" He loosens his grip on my wrists in his surprise. I quickly roll us and completely reverse our positions. I'm shorter, so my knees end up bent around his hips, and with the way he's flexing his wrists easily in my grip, I know he's only letting me have my fun by holding him down.

"You train me then, instead." I know that either way this conversation goes, I'll be surprised with his next response.

"When do you want to start?" He doesn't miss a beat, though I know he's just as surprised as I am with what came out of my mouth.

"You can't be serious, Christian." I know he's not. I know those muscles are well earned, but there's no way he's going to be using those with me in any other way than lovingly. By his chuckle it's apparent that I've said my last thought under my breath, but hovering over him, he's heard it. He smoothly releases his wrists from my futile hold, and sits us both up, so I'm practically sitting on his lap, my legs still bent on each side of his thighs.

"Of course I'm serious; and I promise to only use these muscles on you… lovingly." He ends it with a cute kiss on my nose, and I scrunch it up in reflex.

"Then we're not boxing. We work out together with me choosing the exercises."

"One: I knew you didn't want to actually box, you just wanted a rise out of me. Two: If you choose them five days of the week out of five, you might as well do your fitness alone!"

He sounds baffled, as if I had invited him, rather than his intrusion. "You asked me to train you, so I get to choose."

"No." I cross my arms in front of my breasts, already growing out of my normal B cup. He cups his warm hands around each of my elbows. "I get to choose 3 days week, you get 2 days. Deal or No Deal, Grey."

"I didn't realize we were back to making deals like with the contract."

"Seems the only way to get through to you, business at heart." He cracks a smile, letting me know it's a 'touché' moment.

"Deal. But you really have to tell me when we start."

"When you get over this sickness, babe."

"I'll get over it faster if you nap with me?" He says it questioningly, asking because he knows as well as I do that I don't want to get sick.

"I'm in no hurry." I say, getting off his lap, and off the bed all together. "But you'll get over it faster if you eat something and rest."

"Yes! Go forth to the stove, wench!" He says jokingly, slapping my ass then laying back down with his ice pack.

"Any more of this male dominance, and you'll be fending for yourself in that kitchen!" I wag my finger at him, one hand on my hip for emphasis.

"Forgive me," He pauses. "You know what sounds great?" He doesn't wait for me to ask 'what?' before he continues "Fish, Salad and a popsicle, not necessarily in that order or combination."

"You're lucky that sounds good to me too," I snort. "But no white wine; if I can't have it, neither can you."

"No fair you wench!" He says loudly, his voice following me out of the room as I go so kindly to prepare our lunch.

Okay so I just pumped that out in like 90 minutes? I know people usually wait a year for a new book, not a new chapter, but I hope it was somewhat worth it? I can't promise I'll post regularly, but the first step was coming back… right? Thank you if you haven't given up on me. And I can't forget! QotC: Who's reading this story? Men? Women? Children? Let me know!