Chlollie Update: Beauty in the Breakdown IV - Falling In, Part 7
Anyone in the mood for a Chlollie update? :-)
Enjoy. If it makes no sense, let me know and I'll edit it in the morning. Half asleep here...Zzzzzz....
Title: Beauty in the Breakdown IV - Falling In
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter PG-13)
Warnings: None
Timeline: Season 9; an expansion of Chlollie post-Warrior
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Series Summary: With Oliver by her side, Chloe learns to let go, find peace, and fall in love.
Story Summary: The bond between Oliver and Chloe continues to deepen.
Feedback: …oh, definitely! J
Written for sxymami0909, based on my favourite song on the Chlollie playlist she sent me. J
Awesome banner by ellashy, the manipping maestro. :-)
Falling In, Part 1
Falling In, Part 2
Falling In, Part 3
Falling In, Part 4
Falling In, Part 5
Falling In, Part 6
Beauty in the Breakdown IV
Falling In
Every time I see your face
My heart takes off on a high-speed chase, now
Don’t be scared, it’s only love
Baby, that we’re falling in…
- Falling In, by Lifehouse
Part 7
Chloe bit her lip as she sneakily extended one leg out from beneath the blankets, slowly followed by the other. Carefully she got to her feet, keeping a close eye on the sleeping man in the bed. So far, he hadn’t been disturbed, which was how she wanted to keep it.
She quietly tip-toed to the bathroom and turned the lights on, surprised to see her clothes drying on the heating rail. Oliver must have awoken sometime in the night and washed everything -including her underwear, she thought with a blush. She was touched that he was looking after her so thoroughly, but also now more determined than ever to make sure she got out of this with her heart intact. After years of longing for Clark, the last thing she needed to was to get hooked on Ollie like a puppy on crack.
She showered, deep in thought. Despite her resolve, she honestly didn’t know how she would ever find the strength to tell Oliver that this was over. He didn’t even have to touch her to distract her; one look in those tempting, chocolatey brown eyes, and she knew she’d be a goner.
So it was a good thing her clothes were dry, and that they were hanging here in the bathroom. She’d leave unobtrusively as soon as she was done here, and face him later; preferably when neither of them were naked.
***
Oliver cracked one eye open and smiled to himself as Chloe crept into the bathroom. Somehow he doubted that she was just being quiet so as not to disturb him. She was up to something, he was sure of it. Call it a sixth sense, but he could pretty much read her now. She was going to try and make a run for it, so that she could go home and build a carefully orchestrated argument to back up her reasons for calling time on their relationship.
Well, he wasn’t going to let her, he thought grimly, pulling off the black vest he’d put on the night before. She was in for a big surprise if she thought he was going to make it that easy.
***
It was time to go. Chloe reluctantly shut off the water and grabbed a green fluffy towel - of course his towels were green - and dried herself off. Sighing, she hung it back on the hook and stepped out of the shower into the main area - and blinked.
All her clothes had disappeared. In fact, every stitch of clothing that had been hanging on the rails when she’d walked in here had vanished. Or had she been imagining things?
Frowning, she returned to the shower and took the towel back off the hook and wrapped it around herself. She wasn’t sure what Ollie was up to, but it was a safe bet to think it would probably be clothing optional.
She returned to the bedroom and sure enough, he was sitting up in bed sans the black vest he’d been wearing when she’d woken up, looking through some type of journal. He lifted his head above the top of the thick volume and smiled.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“Yeah I, um…wanted to use the bathroom,” she said shyly as she approached. “Listen, I ought to get a move on as soon as-” she stopped, her eyes widening as she realised what was in his hands.
“Oliver - is that what I think it is?” she asked excitedly.
He grinned. “I promised you baby pictures, didn’t I?”
“Oh, wow!” she squealed and ran over to his side. “I’d hoped you’d bring them out, but didn’t think you’d actually deliver!”
“Hey, I always deliver on my promises, my word is my bond,” he said smugly. “But…you have to abide by the caveat. No laughing, no smirking, no snorting. Otherwise they’re going back in cold storage.”
She made a face and sighed. “Aw, man! Okay, I will do my best not to laugh, but I can’t guarantee I won’t pass a snarky comment or two. Or three…or four…?”
Oliver sighed dramatically and started to close the leather-bound album.
“No, no, no - joking, joking!” she said hurriedly as she jumped back into bed and snuggled up beside him. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse, cross my heart.”
He smiled and shifted so that she was sitting between his legs, and balanced the album in her lap.
“Thank you. Here we go…” he took a deep breath and turned the first page.
Chloe’s breath caught in her throat at the full page black and white picture of a slim blonde woman in late pregnancy, sitting in a window seat bathed in sunlight. There was a huge smile on her face and she was glancing down at her belly, one hand resting delicately on her large bump.
“Is this you?” she asked, her voice breathy.
She felt a chuckle rumble against her back. “Not unless I’ve had gender reconstruction, no…”
She rolled her eyes at him and dug an elbow into his ribs. “You know what I mean,” she said, tapping the pregnant belly of the woman in the photo.
“That’s my Mom, and that’s me in there, yeah,” he admitted. “June ’77; about a month before I was born.”
“You’re a Summer baby,” she observed.
“Blond as the sunshine, my Mom used to say.”
Chloe smiled at the expectant joy on Oliver’s mother’s face. “She was really beautiful, your Mom.”
“Like an angel,” he said softly. “I still miss her.”
Chloe glanced at him, seeing nostalgia in his gaze. She turned the page, and was greeted with a hospital picture of the young family. Oliver’s mother looked a lot less glamorous in this one, but about a million times as happy.
“Mom, Dad…and me, aged about seven minutes,” he said proudly.
“Aw, look at you!” she cooed. “It’s hard to believe you were ever that small.”
“Eight pounds and seven ounces of pure gorgeousness, even then.”
Chloe frowned and tilted her head. “Pretty hard to tell, if I’m going to be completely honest; your face is all red and scrunched up, like some kind of pickled prune, and you’ve definitely got a conehead thing going on up there...”
“Hey!” he yelled plaintively, and started shutting the album.
“Sorry, sorry!” she giggled. He fixed her with a stern look and opened the album again.
“Twelve hours of labour and a natural childbirth will do that to the best of us,” he mumbled. “I’d like to see your baby pictures, and see if you looked any better.”
“Fortunately for me, I was born by caesarean section, which means my perfect little features remained untouched,” she said airily.
He playfully yanked on her hair. “Show-off.”
She chuckled and turned the page, and her heart instantly melted. “Now this is more like it!” she said, grinning at a close up shot of Oliver in christening robes, complete with frilly bonnet.
“You think I look better in drag?” he said in dismay.
“It’s not drag, you were a baby!” she defended. “All infants were subject to the fashion faux pas that is The Christening Robe, male and female. But for what it’s worth, you totally rocked it.”
He grunted. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Backhanded, but a compliment nevertheless.”
Another page turned, and the grin widened.
“Ah…I can just about see the beginnings of the Oliver Queen chin, right there,” she noted, pointing at the tiny dimpled chin on his infant picture. “And your hair’s finally started grow, look at that!”
He turned to her with an indignant expression on his face. “Chloe…” he warned.
“It’s an honest observation!”
He sighed. “Fair enough.”
“I mean, it’s not like I called you ‘baldie,’ or anything…” she murmured.
“Pushing it…”
“Moving on,” she added hastily, turning the page. “Awwww!!! Look at you!”
Oliver must have been about six or seven months old; probably just started sitting up, as he was surrounded by lush pillows on all sides, and was leaning a bit further forward than he ought to be. There was a look of pure comedic horror on his chubby face as he stared directly into the camera, no doubt startled by the flash going off, his spiky blond hair standing on end.
“Now this face, I recognise,” she said with a smile. “This is the face you make when you think someone’s talking out of their you-know-where.”
He frowned. “Really?”
“Totally!” she confirmed. “And your hair - ha! You look like you stuck your finger in a socket!”
“And there you were thinking my signature look was all down to Brylcreem,” he mused.
“I will never doubt your personal style again, not that I ever did,” she said mock-solemnly, and continued leafing through pages of pictures. It was a thing of joy to watch the man she’d come to adore grow up in photographs, and much as she was trying to remain detached, she felt strangely honoured that he’d shared this with her.
“Your mama was right; you were one hell of a beautiful baby.” And an even more beautiful man, her mind supplied.
“Yeah, thanks for not pointing out my pot belly and double chin,” he replied dryly. “Much appreciated.”
“You know…it would be a travesty if you decided not to procreate, Ollie,” she said as she gazed at a two-year old Oliver giving him mother a kiss in one of the pictures. “You just have to pass on that chin, and all that blond, spiky hair. It would be absolutely criminal to deprive the world of it.”
Oliver chuckled and tightened his arms around her. “Then I’ll just have to find me another gorgeous blonde to marry to increase my chances, won’t I?” he said smoothly.
Chloe gulped and turned her head to look at him. He was smiling, but his eyes were serious. Surely he didn’t mean…?
She faced forward and focused on the pictures again, her heart thumping wildly at his thinly veiled suggestion. No; he wasn’t suggesting anything, she chided herself. A few romps does not a marriage proposal make, no matter how smoking hot the romp.
“You look so much like your father,” she observed, changing the subject. “It’s like you’re a little rubber stamp of him, or something.”
He gasped. “Are you saying you think my Dad’s hot?”
“Ollie!”
He laughed again and stroked her bare stomach. “Couldn’t help myself. I don’t often catch you on the back foot, so I have to take aim whenever the opportunity presents itself, no?”
“That was a cheap shot, and you know it,” she huffed, and turned the next page.
And burst out into loud shrieks of laughter. Grinning Baby Oliver was sprawled on a changing mat, legs in the air, baring it all for the world to see.
“Oliver Queen! You brazen child!” she squealed.
“Hey, you promised - no laughter!” he complained, looking hurt.
“Just look at you!” she laughed. “Balls-out nekkid, not a care in the world…!”
“Okay, that’s it.” He shut the cover page of the album, whereupon she snatched it out of his hands and rapidly opened it again.
“Nuh-uh!” he said, lifting it out of her reach.
“Yuh-uh!” she countered, reaching up as far as her arms would go. But Oliver easily lifted it over her head and dropped it down behind the headboard, clear out of her reach.
“Oh, you spoilsport!” she thumped him in the chest and folded her arms petulantly.
“Well you just had to laugh, didn’t you?” he smirked, digging his fingers under her arms for a quick tickle.
Chloe shrieked and erupted into peals of laughter. Oliver stopped abruptly, his eyes widening with undisguised glee.
“Ticklish, huh?” he mused, an evil glint in his eye. “Fantastic.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Ollie, no!”
“Too late.” He tickled her relentlessly, his long fingers travelling up and down her ribs until she screamed and laughed and begged and pleaded with him to stop.
“No more!” she wheezed. “Please!”
“Say ‘uncle’!” he teased as he pinned her down and tickled.
“Uncle!” she screeched.
“What was that?”
“Uncle!”
He cupped his ear. “Pardon me?”
“Uncle, uncle, UNCLLLLLLE!!!” she yelled.
He took pity on her and finally let her go. “That’ll teach you to laugh at me,” he grinned.
“Well, what was I supposed to do, it was a funny picture!” she pouted, and turned away from him. With a quick whirl of his arm he swung her around and onto his chest, so that she was lying on top of him.
“Hey, you wanted to laugh,” he pointed out sagely. “I just made doubly sure of it.”
She folded her arms and scowled. “Meanie.”
“Yup.”
“Don’t like you anymore.”
“’Course you do.” He took her face in his hands and brushed his lips against hers gently, coaxing them apart.
“No I don’t,” she whispered even as her clenched fists uncurled on his chest.
“Do.”
“I mean it,” she insisted. “This isn’t gonna work, you know.”
“Isn’t it?” He slid his lips over the rapidly increasing pulse at her throat, and she gasped.
“Uh…” she trailed off, and a shiver ran through her as he kissed her neck, his warm breath making her skin sizzle.
“Uh, what?”
“Mmm…” she moaned throatily, her hands sliding into his hair as she pressed her lower half against him.
Oliver simply chuckled. “I rest my case.”
“I wasn’t aware that we were arguing,” she replied sultrily, pressing her lips hard against his in a deep kiss.
One more time. She’d allow herself the pleasure of his arms one last time, and then she’d hit the reset button, even though the prospect of saying goodbye to him was breaking her heart.
***
Chapter 8…
Enjoy. If it makes no sense, let me know and I'll edit it in the morning. Half asleep here...Zzzzzz....
Title: Beauty in the Breakdown IV - Falling In
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter PG-13)
Warnings: None
Timeline: Season 9; an expansion of Chlollie post-Warrior
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Series Summary: With Oliver by her side, Chloe learns to let go, find peace, and fall in love.
Story Summary: The bond between Oliver and Chloe continues to deepen.
Feedback: …oh, definitely! J
Written for sxymami0909, based on my favourite song on the Chlollie playlist she sent me. J
Awesome banner by ellashy, the manipping maestro. :-)
Falling In, Part 1
Falling In, Part 2
Falling In, Part 3
Falling In, Part 4
Falling In, Part 5
Falling In, Part 6
Beauty in the Breakdown IV
Falling In
Every time I see your face
My heart takes off on a high-speed chase, now
Don’t be scared, it’s only love
Baby, that we’re falling in…
- Falling In, by Lifehouse
Part 7
Chloe bit her lip as she sneakily extended one leg out from beneath the blankets, slowly followed by the other. Carefully she got to her feet, keeping a close eye on the sleeping man in the bed. So far, he hadn’t been disturbed, which was how she wanted to keep it.
She quietly tip-toed to the bathroom and turned the lights on, surprised to see her clothes drying on the heating rail. Oliver must have awoken sometime in the night and washed everything -including her underwear, she thought with a blush. She was touched that he was looking after her so thoroughly, but also now more determined than ever to make sure she got out of this with her heart intact. After years of longing for Clark, the last thing she needed to was to get hooked on Ollie like a puppy on crack.
She showered, deep in thought. Despite her resolve, she honestly didn’t know how she would ever find the strength to tell Oliver that this was over. He didn’t even have to touch her to distract her; one look in those tempting, chocolatey brown eyes, and she knew she’d be a goner.
So it was a good thing her clothes were dry, and that they were hanging here in the bathroom. She’d leave unobtrusively as soon as she was done here, and face him later; preferably when neither of them were naked.
***
Oliver cracked one eye open and smiled to himself as Chloe crept into the bathroom. Somehow he doubted that she was just being quiet so as not to disturb him. She was up to something, he was sure of it. Call it a sixth sense, but he could pretty much read her now. She was going to try and make a run for it, so that she could go home and build a carefully orchestrated argument to back up her reasons for calling time on their relationship.
Well, he wasn’t going to let her, he thought grimly, pulling off the black vest he’d put on the night before. She was in for a big surprise if she thought he was going to make it that easy.
***
It was time to go. Chloe reluctantly shut off the water and grabbed a green fluffy towel - of course his towels were green - and dried herself off. Sighing, she hung it back on the hook and stepped out of the shower into the main area - and blinked.
All her clothes had disappeared. In fact, every stitch of clothing that had been hanging on the rails when she’d walked in here had vanished. Or had she been imagining things?
Frowning, she returned to the shower and took the towel back off the hook and wrapped it around herself. She wasn’t sure what Ollie was up to, but it was a safe bet to think it would probably be clothing optional.
She returned to the bedroom and sure enough, he was sitting up in bed sans the black vest he’d been wearing when she’d woken up, looking through some type of journal. He lifted his head above the top of the thick volume and smiled.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“Yeah I, um…wanted to use the bathroom,” she said shyly as she approached. “Listen, I ought to get a move on as soon as-” she stopped, her eyes widening as she realised what was in his hands.
“Oliver - is that what I think it is?” she asked excitedly.
He grinned. “I promised you baby pictures, didn’t I?”
“Oh, wow!” she squealed and ran over to his side. “I’d hoped you’d bring them out, but didn’t think you’d actually deliver!”
“Hey, I always deliver on my promises, my word is my bond,” he said smugly. “But…you have to abide by the caveat. No laughing, no smirking, no snorting. Otherwise they’re going back in cold storage.”
She made a face and sighed. “Aw, man! Okay, I will do my best not to laugh, but I can’t guarantee I won’t pass a snarky comment or two. Or three…or four…?”
Oliver sighed dramatically and started to close the leather-bound album.
“No, no, no - joking, joking!” she said hurriedly as she jumped back into bed and snuggled up beside him. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse, cross my heart.”
He smiled and shifted so that she was sitting between his legs, and balanced the album in her lap.
“Thank you. Here we go…” he took a deep breath and turned the first page.
Chloe’s breath caught in her throat at the full page black and white picture of a slim blonde woman in late pregnancy, sitting in a window seat bathed in sunlight. There was a huge smile on her face and she was glancing down at her belly, one hand resting delicately on her large bump.
“Is this you?” she asked, her voice breathy.
She felt a chuckle rumble against her back. “Not unless I’ve had gender reconstruction, no…”
She rolled her eyes at him and dug an elbow into his ribs. “You know what I mean,” she said, tapping the pregnant belly of the woman in the photo.
“That’s my Mom, and that’s me in there, yeah,” he admitted. “June ’77; about a month before I was born.”
“You’re a Summer baby,” she observed.
“Blond as the sunshine, my Mom used to say.”
Chloe smiled at the expectant joy on Oliver’s mother’s face. “She was really beautiful, your Mom.”
“Like an angel,” he said softly. “I still miss her.”
Chloe glanced at him, seeing nostalgia in his gaze. She turned the page, and was greeted with a hospital picture of the young family. Oliver’s mother looked a lot less glamorous in this one, but about a million times as happy.
“Mom, Dad…and me, aged about seven minutes,” he said proudly.
“Aw, look at you!” she cooed. “It’s hard to believe you were ever that small.”
“Eight pounds and seven ounces of pure gorgeousness, even then.”
Chloe frowned and tilted her head. “Pretty hard to tell, if I’m going to be completely honest; your face is all red and scrunched up, like some kind of pickled prune, and you’ve definitely got a conehead thing going on up there...”
“Hey!” he yelled plaintively, and started shutting the album.
“Sorry, sorry!” she giggled. He fixed her with a stern look and opened the album again.
“Twelve hours of labour and a natural childbirth will do that to the best of us,” he mumbled. “I’d like to see your baby pictures, and see if you looked any better.”
“Fortunately for me, I was born by caesarean section, which means my perfect little features remained untouched,” she said airily.
He playfully yanked on her hair. “Show-off.”
She chuckled and turned the page, and her heart instantly melted. “Now this is more like it!” she said, grinning at a close up shot of Oliver in christening robes, complete with frilly bonnet.
“You think I look better in drag?” he said in dismay.
“It’s not drag, you were a baby!” she defended. “All infants were subject to the fashion faux pas that is The Christening Robe, male and female. But for what it’s worth, you totally rocked it.”
He grunted. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Backhanded, but a compliment nevertheless.”
Another page turned, and the grin widened.
“Ah…I can just about see the beginnings of the Oliver Queen chin, right there,” she noted, pointing at the tiny dimpled chin on his infant picture. “And your hair’s finally started grow, look at that!”
He turned to her with an indignant expression on his face. “Chloe…” he warned.
“It’s an honest observation!”
He sighed. “Fair enough.”
“I mean, it’s not like I called you ‘baldie,’ or anything…” she murmured.
“Pushing it…”
“Moving on,” she added hastily, turning the page. “Awwww!!! Look at you!”
Oliver must have been about six or seven months old; probably just started sitting up, as he was surrounded by lush pillows on all sides, and was leaning a bit further forward than he ought to be. There was a look of pure comedic horror on his chubby face as he stared directly into the camera, no doubt startled by the flash going off, his spiky blond hair standing on end.
“Now this face, I recognise,” she said with a smile. “This is the face you make when you think someone’s talking out of their you-know-where.”
He frowned. “Really?”
“Totally!” she confirmed. “And your hair - ha! You look like you stuck your finger in a socket!”
“And there you were thinking my signature look was all down to Brylcreem,” he mused.
“I will never doubt your personal style again, not that I ever did,” she said mock-solemnly, and continued leafing through pages of pictures. It was a thing of joy to watch the man she’d come to adore grow up in photographs, and much as she was trying to remain detached, she felt strangely honoured that he’d shared this with her.
“Your mama was right; you were one hell of a beautiful baby.” And an even more beautiful man, her mind supplied.
“Yeah, thanks for not pointing out my pot belly and double chin,” he replied dryly. “Much appreciated.”
“You know…it would be a travesty if you decided not to procreate, Ollie,” she said as she gazed at a two-year old Oliver giving him mother a kiss in one of the pictures. “You just have to pass on that chin, and all that blond, spiky hair. It would be absolutely criminal to deprive the world of it.”
Oliver chuckled and tightened his arms around her. “Then I’ll just have to find me another gorgeous blonde to marry to increase my chances, won’t I?” he said smoothly.
Chloe gulped and turned her head to look at him. He was smiling, but his eyes were serious. Surely he didn’t mean…?
She faced forward and focused on the pictures again, her heart thumping wildly at his thinly veiled suggestion. No; he wasn’t suggesting anything, she chided herself. A few romps does not a marriage proposal make, no matter how smoking hot the romp.
“You look so much like your father,” she observed, changing the subject. “It’s like you’re a little rubber stamp of him, or something.”
He gasped. “Are you saying you think my Dad’s hot?”
“Ollie!”
He laughed again and stroked her bare stomach. “Couldn’t help myself. I don’t often catch you on the back foot, so I have to take aim whenever the opportunity presents itself, no?”
“That was a cheap shot, and you know it,” she huffed, and turned the next page.
And burst out into loud shrieks of laughter. Grinning Baby Oliver was sprawled on a changing mat, legs in the air, baring it all for the world to see.
“Oliver Queen! You brazen child!” she squealed.
“Hey, you promised - no laughter!” he complained, looking hurt.
“Just look at you!” she laughed. “Balls-out nekkid, not a care in the world…!”
“Okay, that’s it.” He shut the cover page of the album, whereupon she snatched it out of his hands and rapidly opened it again.
“Nuh-uh!” he said, lifting it out of her reach.
“Yuh-uh!” she countered, reaching up as far as her arms would go. But Oliver easily lifted it over her head and dropped it down behind the headboard, clear out of her reach.
“Oh, you spoilsport!” she thumped him in the chest and folded her arms petulantly.
“Well you just had to laugh, didn’t you?” he smirked, digging his fingers under her arms for a quick tickle.
Chloe shrieked and erupted into peals of laughter. Oliver stopped abruptly, his eyes widening with undisguised glee.
“Ticklish, huh?” he mused, an evil glint in his eye. “Fantastic.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Ollie, no!”
“Too late.” He tickled her relentlessly, his long fingers travelling up and down her ribs until she screamed and laughed and begged and pleaded with him to stop.
“No more!” she wheezed. “Please!”
“Say ‘uncle’!” he teased as he pinned her down and tickled.
“Uncle!” she screeched.
“What was that?”
“Uncle!”
He cupped his ear. “Pardon me?”
“Uncle, uncle, UNCLLLLLLE!!!” she yelled.
He took pity on her and finally let her go. “That’ll teach you to laugh at me,” he grinned.
“Well, what was I supposed to do, it was a funny picture!” she pouted, and turned away from him. With a quick whirl of his arm he swung her around and onto his chest, so that she was lying on top of him.
“Hey, you wanted to laugh,” he pointed out sagely. “I just made doubly sure of it.”
She folded her arms and scowled. “Meanie.”
“Yup.”
“Don’t like you anymore.”
“’Course you do.” He took her face in his hands and brushed his lips against hers gently, coaxing them apart.
“No I don’t,” she whispered even as her clenched fists uncurled on his chest.
“Do.”
“I mean it,” she insisted. “This isn’t gonna work, you know.”
“Isn’t it?” He slid his lips over the rapidly increasing pulse at her throat, and she gasped.
“Uh…” she trailed off, and a shiver ran through her as he kissed her neck, his warm breath making her skin sizzle.
“Uh, what?”
“Mmm…” she moaned throatily, her hands sliding into his hair as she pressed her lower half against him.
Oliver simply chuckled. “I rest my case.”
“I wasn’t aware that we were arguing,” she replied sultrily, pressing her lips hard against his in a deep kiss.
One more time. She’d allow herself the pleasure of his arms one last time, and then she’d hit the reset button, even though the prospect of saying goodbye to him was breaking her heart.
***
Chapter 8…