Authors Note: Ok, since I am coming to the end of my Angela and Gordon fic's, I'm pretty sure the next fic will be his last. I decided to do something short, quick, and fun. Go me! Enjoy!

Home…

I parked in the driveway with one and only one thing in mind that I wanted to do, with absolutely nothing else that I needed to have my get-up for. The full beard and long hair made me look like one of the ZZ-Top members.

Granted my hair was pulled back in a braid and my beard was well maintained after a hour long shower to get two weeks worth of swamp out of my skin, hair, pores, and other parts of my anatomy my wife had expressed great affection for.

In firmly pressed jeans and a basic grey t-shirt I walked into our little home.

Randy behind me.

Bald, but sporting the same beard from nine weeks of non-stop growing.

"I thought your misses was home?"

Her little mustang wasn't in the driveway and the garage was closed up. Which meant she was not home. "No, cars gone."

Fine with me.

I could shave and not look like a hobo when she came home. I hadn't seen her in about three months.

While I dug around my rucksack for keys Randy walked past me. He pulled something thin, pointy, and metal from his pocket and inserted it in my front doorknob's lock.

Within a matter of seconds my front door was open. A fresh smelling very bright house greeted me.

I stepped inside to see she had repainted all the walls and reorganized the furniture. My wife was utterly amazing. All while six months pregnant. I dropped my bag and looked around. Everything looked like it could have been featured in one of those home décor magazines.

From behind me Randy muttered, "Why doesn't my house look like this?"

As I walked into what used to be the living room, now her studio, I told him, "Cause you live with twin boys and a school teacher. Your house is supposed to look like a Toys'R'Us explosion."

Randy murmured something.

I walked through her studio which was just jam packed with everything any artist could ever want, walked into what used to me the dining area, now was apparently the living room.

Thank God the kitchen couldn't be moved, that was where I had last seen it. The dining room was nowhere to be seen though.

Shouting from where I was to Randy, "I found the kitchen!"

Our fridge had been painted purple.

I opened it and grabbed a soda and a small white box: Chinese Food.

With her being pregnant we'd never run out of food.

From somewhere in my house Randy shouted, "I found the nursery!"

Oh good.

While I defeated the box I walked past the calendar, then stopped. What was today? I had no clue.

"Randy! What's today!"

From what was apparently the nursery he shouted, "The third!"

With a keen eye I spotted the little box.

She had an OBGYN appointment at two. I peeked at my watch, her appointment was fifteen minutes away. I could make that. First I wanted to see the nursery. Maybe I could figure out whether I was having a son or daughter.

It took me a few minutes to find the nursery, which was what had been the master bedroom when I left.

Where our bedroom was was a mystery to me.

Randy was staring at the room from the doorway, "So are you having a boy or girl?"

I no earthly idea.

The walls were lite blue, but a calming shade and were full of a coral reef, a pod of dolphins, even a mermaid with treasure and sunken ship. The ceiling had been painted to look like you were underwater looking up.

There was a sparkly purple rocking chair.

The crib was in pieces on the floor. Along with a hammer, the phone, and a bag of chips.

Randy pointed to the crib, "We'll put that together tonight."

Randy was a good man.

"Yeah, she's at her baby doctor, I'm going to go see if I can catch up. I'll see you Stephanie and the boys for dinner?"

With a nod, Randy's eyes never left the walls, "Absolutely. I'm going to try to find a bathroom and shave. Then I'm going to surprise Stephanie, propose, and then try and find my boys."

I patted his shoulder, "Good luck man."

Ten minutes later…

For some reason my wife went to an OBGYN off base. Some doctor that cost an ear and a leg. She paid the costs up front though. She wanted to see the same doctor Holly had, I wasn't carrying the baby so shut up had been her argument. Then she started crying and pleaded for pizza and Chinese food.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

Unlike my wife who was seated on a plush chair in the waiting room with none other the Sanderson at her side, holding her purse, in khaki's and a polo shirt.

The waiting room had paintings by Rembrandt, or so said my wife and I believed her.

The waiting room also had an espresso machine.

The women were all wives of men whose salaries exceeded my own by three digits. Much like my wife's.

At the sight of me a couple of them actually gasped.

Angela glanced up and beamed at the sight of me, her hobo husband. Sanderson, who was listening to my baby with a stethoscope, glanced up too. At the sight of me he laughed.

I strolled on over to them.

Sanderson handed me my wife's purse, thus handing over the responsibility it entailed. But he didn't get out of the seat. Instead he took off the medical tool we had stolen a few months ago.

Angela had the world's biggest smile on her face. I leant down and kissed her. I couldn't hug her anymore. That bump made it very difficult and she tasted like a meatball sub.

I just found that beyond amusing.

Against her lips I asked, "You stopped at Subway?"

She grinned and nodded, "I have half a meatball sub in my purse."

That made me laugh. I kissed her once more and sat down beside her.

Sanderson lifted her silk kimono top bottom up and instructed, "Watch."

I watched as Sanderson grabbed a bump on my wife's pale round bump. The slight bump he had grabbed moved. The two of them had the world's largest grin on their faces.

My wife informed me, "That's the baby's foot. It doesn't like when we do that."

I swatted Sanderson's hand aside and touched the tiny bump in the bigger bump, when it rested its foot back against her stomach. Unlike Sanderson I didn't grab the tiny bump. I rubbed it with my thumb and felt the heel of a tiny foot. Angela then told me, "Put those on and you can hear the heart beat."

Obediently I listened.

I put the earpieces in my ear and the other part on her stomach. They were right. Not only could I hear Angela's heartbeat, I heard a less loud beat. Not as strong, but it was still there.

"I want to be the Godfather," Sanderson piped up, "Hoot can be the Godmother."

A little later…

"There is your daughter Angela, Gary, Jeff."

The doctor was very confused. He didn't know whether Sanderson or I was the father.

Both of us stood behind Angela and watched the ultrasound screen. I held her hand while Sanderson cooed, "She has my chin! Oh she's beautiful!"

The short Nigerian man looked between the two of us, unsure what to say while I kissed Angela.

Sanderson beamed and sipped Angela's espresso, "Could I get a few copies of that? I need some for my Christmas card."

Again I kissed Angela's temple. I whispered private things in her ear as Sanderson just beamed away.

Dr. O, I couldn't pronounce his full name, looked between the two of us, and then to Angela, "Would you like to hear the baby?"

I blinked in disbelief.

Angela vocalized my feelings with tender eagerness in her voice, "We can do that?"

She was going to make a great mother.

Sanderson continued to beam, "Make sure I get copies of those! I want some for our date tonight."

I peered over the top of Angela's head, "What?"

To which Sanderson calmly and collectedly informed me, "My cousin is in town and I want to show Angela off. He doesn't believe me that my wife is pregnant."

I began to argue.

His wife wasn't pregnant, it was my wife that was pregnant. Angela placed her fingers gently over my lips, "Sweetie it's ok. I'll be back by nine, and I get a free steak dinner with salad bar."