The morning light shot into the room as Malcolm withdrew the white drapes with his left hand. On his right hand, he held something readily unidentifiable. Something dark and lumpy. It was, however, not what caught Hoshi's attention as she turned over to see him approach to the bed. His full Starfleet regalia was what made her sit up, albeit in a slow and no-quite awake pace. A smirk grew across her lips as she took measure of him, spit and polished, practically angelic in the glow of the morning sun.

"Malcolm, you don't have to try so hard. I'm always up for little morning exercise," Hoshi said, laughter in her voice. Then with exaggerated shyness, she gestured for him to sit across from her on the bed.

Yet somehow, Malcolm couldn't quite get a smile out as he sat. But the adoration in his blue eyes was as clear as day. She sidled up against him, her chin against his stiff shoulders, peering at the unidentifiable food on the plate.

"Hmmm, what's this?"

He held up a finger, and asked in a voice he considered to be scholarly, "What is a rare British delicacy that was created in the last few decades?"

"Hmmm..." Hoshi snatched at his waving finger and held her dark gaze to his light ones as she continued, "You mean, besides Malcolm Reed?"

She licked her captured prize. He swallowed unsteadily as his ears warmed.

"It's called Pemberlade..." he said, offering her a spoon.

She dug a small spoonful and held it to her mouth. She closed her eyes and let out a long suffering sigh.

"Do I want to know what's in it?"

Malcolm coughed and offered, "Not if you're going to eat it, no."

She rolled her eyes at him, as if to say 'Thanks for the encouragement', but nibbled gamely at the odd substance on the spoon.

Watching intently, Malcolm added, "It's an acquired taste."

"All good things are," she replied, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. She then took another spoonful before snuggling against him.

"Maddy said it also helps with morning sickness," he said in a whisper against her ear.

Hoshi stopped chewing. She placed the spoon on the plate before setting them both aside.

"You know."

"Yes."

"I'm only slightly nauseous. I haven't even thrown up."

"There are other signs."

"Oh."

Hoshi didn't realize it herself, but she was frowning. Finally, as if coming to a decision, she started to say, "I haven't decided--"

"Whether you wanted to keep it?" he asked, cutting in, as tense as he ever felt in his life.

"--what name I wanted to give him or her," she finished, glaring at him. She turned, her back towards him before continuing, "Names are like front seats, the person to call it first gets it. I haven't told you yet because I don't like the name 'Shotgun'."

He was speechless.

"Although," she paused upon a sudden realization, "If we did use 'Shotgun', no one will blame me."

That's Commander Reed, the weapons specialist...he named his kid Shotgun.

Tsk, tsk. Scarred for life, that one...

Seconds before he regained his ability to speak, Hoshi whipped around and placed her hands on her still flat belly. With an evil glint in her eyes, she smiled hugely at him.

"Shotgun."

Daddy, why do people look at you funny when I tell them my name is Shotgun?