Too much angst . . . must write fluff. Oh, look. Here we go. Silly. I disclaim.

"Out." Chloe points sternly at the door. "Dog. Now."

Oliver tries to stifle laughter, and fails. Chloe turns to him and glares—shutting off his laughter with a single look. "Sorry," he says sheepishly.

"Oliver, this dog isn't listening to me."

"I can't imagine why. I mean, you're really channeling 'school marm' right now. It's shocking that a wee little puppy can stand up against your-" He stops himself, noticing Chloe's warning glance. "-charms."

"Nice save." Because what he was going to say involved her being scary and intimidating, and that was not what she wanted to hear. "This is your fault."

Oliver raises a brow. "How so?"

"This mutt is yours, Ollie."

"I thought you liked dogs."

"I do. This is not a dog. This is a monster that's already destroyed my shoes, ruined my favorite sweater and peed just about everywhere in this apartment—including on my computer. In two days, Ollie," she whined. She knew it wasn't attractive, but . . . ugh.

Oliver gets up and moves over to the dog and picks him up, holding him. "That's okay, little one. Don't listen to anything the mean woman says, she doesn't mean to hurt your feelings, she's just in a bad mood."

"I am not in a bad mood, I'm pregnant. There's a damned difference."

Oliver nearly dropped the puppy. "What?"

"Yup."

"Oh." He sat down. Oh dear.

"We have a puppy."

"Yup."

"And we're having a baby."

"Yup."

"Wow."

Chloe's a little nervous. Because even though they love each other, and they've moved in together, she's not quite sure how he feels about having a child with her.

He gently puts the puppy down and walks over to her. She's standing nervously. "We're going to have a baby."

"Yup." It's like that's all she can say now.

"How long have you known?" He asks, knowing that this requires a bit more of an answer.

"Just since this morning."

"I love you, you know that."

"Yes."

"This is a good thing."

Chloe lets out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "It is?"

"Yeah. It is. You're going to be a great mother, and we're going to be good parents."

Chloe smiles, relieved. His words have reassured her.

"We're having a baby," she says, happily.

"It's too bad it didn't wait a few more months though." He says offhandedly. He walks away, into their bedroom.

She's confused, and a little hurt. She follows him. "What do you mean?"

He pulls out a ring. "Well, I was waiting until we were a little more settled. I wanted to see how we'd deal with the puppy . . . and I was waiting for you to be ready."

"Oh," is all she manages.

"Marry me. Not just because you're pregnant, I promise. But because I love you. And this ring has been waiting here, in this cabinet—"he motions toward the drawer he pulled the ring box out of. "—just for you."

Chloe closes her eyes and breathes deeply. "Yes."

"Good." He slides the ring onto her finger—it fits perfectly, of course.

He leans down and kisses her. "I love you."

"I love you too. But I don't love that dog."

"It'll grow on you. Just like me. Give it time."

The puppy barked at that moment. "We still haven't named it."

"I said it was up to you."

"Once we name it, we have to keep it."

Oliver merely nods in agreement, realizing that this is an important moment. Sure, they're getting married and having a baby. But she needs to name the puppy.

"Later."

Oliver sighs, but doesn't say anything.

The next day he wakes up and she's already out of bed—unsurprisingly, of course.

She's sitting in the living area looking incredibly guilty.

"What happened?"

She jumps. "I lost my ring."

He doesn't know what to say to that. "Oh."

"Yup."

They just stay there, she sits on the couch, and he stands in the doorway. The unnamed puppy pounces into the room and sits himself down in front of Chloe.

"I don't have time for this."

The puppy opens his mouth, and out falls her ring.

Chloe gasps. She grabs the ring, puts it on her finger and picks up the puppy. "Thank you."

Oliver smiles at the scene before him. Chloe smiling brilliantly and letting the puppy lick her face.

"Do you think Ringo is too cheesy?"

"Yes." He replies honestly.

"Perfect. Ringo it is."

"Really? Ringo?" He wanted her to name the puppy, but Ringo? No.

"Methinks daddy doesn't like your name. Hmm. Droopy."

"You're not naming the baby."

"Oh, Droopy. Daddy just doesn't understand that you're supposed to give puppies odd names. Babies are a completely different matter."

"You're talking to the dog."

Chloe continues, ignoring his interruption. "Droopy, Oliver. And what would you have named him?"

"Spot."

Chloe just stared at him. "No. And I think I'm naming the baby."

Oliver felt slightly insulted. "Spot is a perfectly acceptable dog name. Unlike . . . Droopy, which is silly."

"You're silly. And, by the way, he doesn't have spots," Chloe retorts immaturely. "Haven't you ever head of Droopy, the detective dog?

"No."

"You have been deprived. And I have named the dog."

"We're negotiating the baby's name." Oliver said firmly.

"Deal. Say hello to daddy, Droopy," Chloe held the puppy—who looked a bit like the old cartoon dog—to Oliver. He took the puppy.

Chloe got up suddenly, ran to the bathroom. Oliver faintly heard the sounds of morning sickness. He whispered to Droopy, "Mommy's crazy. But that's okay. Because we love her anyway."

FLUFF. Just because I can.