AN: This is part of a series. First: What They Did on Their Thanksgiving Vacation. Second: What They Did on Valentine's Day. Third: What They Did on the Fourth of July.

"I think we should just stay home and hand out candy," Chase said. "And wait for you to go into labor," he added, patting his wife's very round abdomen. The two were lying in bed, content to be underneath the warm blankets.

"Not happening," Cameron said. "Meggie was two weeks late. So I figure I've got at least a week before this baby comes."

"You know you can't go by your sister's pregnancy."

Cameron gave him a look that said, Wanna bet? "My mom was late delivering all of us too. Parker women are like elephants. No cracks about my weight."

"Have I ever made a crack about your weight?" Chase asked, hurt. "You're not as big as you seem to think you are."

She had gained about forty pounds, depending on how much fluid retention she had from day to day. "You're sweet. You're lying, but you're sweet." She placed her hand on top of his. They could both feel the baby kick. "Come on. It'll be our last hoorah as child-free adults," she urged, trying to get Chase to agree to attend the hospital's charity costume ball.

"You're in no condition to party," Chase maintained.

"You just don't want to wear your costume," Cameron argued.

"You're right. I don't," he agreed with a huff.

"Next time go with me to pick out the costumes," Cameron suggested. "Besides, do you know how hard it is to find a costume that will fit when you're nine months pregnant? This way I can wear the jacket and my own black tights and still look the part." She slid out of the bed and went to their closet. She pulled a hanger from the wrack and showed him a red jacket with gold trim that was still in the clear plastic dry cleaner's bag.

"Come on, Chase. It'll be awesome," she insisted. She pulled out another costume. This one was a form-hugging sold black body suit with a tail.

"I'm not wearing that," Chase told her, sitting up in bed. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You're supposed to be a lion tamer. Why do I have to be a panther?"

"I'm a big cat tamer and the lion suit was way too big for you," she explained--again.

"Well, that one is way too small, so forget it. I'm not going."

"You are the very definition of a party pooper," Cameron sulked. "This is so much better than a big, heavy, sweaty lion suit. You'll be the hottest man at the party."

"And you'll look like a dominatrix with that whip and I'll have to listen to House and everyone else give me hell until next Halloween. I'm not going."

Cameron frowned and sniffed, then hung the costumes back in the closet and shut the door. She walked out of the bedroom without a word.

Chase sighed and got out of bed, immediately catching a chill when he left the warmth of the blankets. He stepped into his slippers and followed his wife.

He found her in the living room wrapped in the blanket they kept on the couch. A pile of crumpled white tissues were on the cushion beside her and she was dabbing at her eyes with another.

"That is so unfair," he said, sitting down on the couch and stealing half her blanket. "You've got super enhanced crying power." Between her hormonal induced ability to tear up over anything and the leverage she had by carrying his child, Chase was completely susceptible to her tears.

She leaned against him, "I just," she sniffed. "I really wanted this." She blew her nose. "It'll be fun and it's for a good cause and you'll great. Every woman there will envy me even if I do look like an elephant."

Chase sighed. "I want you to be happy." He rubbed her shoulder. "But I'd like to keep my dignity too. I tried that thing on. I look like… a really ugly stripper."

"You know how you're always telling me I'm not as fat as I think I am?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if you want me to believe in you, believe in me when I saw that you look great in that costume. You have a flat stomach--unlike me--and you have a tight ass and if anyone gives you hell it'll be because they're jealous that they can't get away with wearing something that tight.

"Can we at least leave the whip at home? Take a trumpet and we can be a high school mascot and a member of the marching band."

Cameron frowned, not liking this idea. "Being a big cat tamer is sexy. Being in the marching band is not."

"It's promoting cruelty to animals."

"I know that's high on your list of priorities," Cameron scoffed.

"Hey, I've given to the Humane Society."

"I think you're more worried about promoting cruelty to husbands."

"On behalf of myself and all the lions, tigers, leopards, and panthers in the world, we think it's a bad idea."

Cameron's eyes welled with tears again. She rubbed her tummy, "I guess your mommy isn't going to get to go to the party."

"Okay. Fine," Chase said, frustrated, but fully manipulated. "I'll go and I'll look like a male stripper from some kind of freak show."

Cameron kissed him on the cheek. "You're the best."

"For the record, I hope your water breaks before lunch and you're too busy giving birth to go to the ball." He abandoned the couch before she had a chance to swat him.

He went to work and it was business as usual, except that he kept flipping open his cell phone, hoping for a call from his wife.

"It works," Foreman told him, snatching the phone. "But you're going to run down the battery if you keep checking it." He handed the closed phone back to its owner. "Expecting a Halloween baby?" he asked.

"I sure hope so," he said, slipping the phone into his pocket. "She was due a few days ago."

"The kid will come when it gets good and ready," Foreman responded. "Everything's fine." He laughed. "Enjoy being free while it lasts," he advised.

"I'm ready," Chase told him.

"No, you're not," Foreman said.

Chase smiled. "You're right. I'm not. But I'm as ready as I'll ever be." He remembered getting the news that they were expecting a baby on Valentine's Day. He remembered that Cameron decided she wanted to have a baby almost a year ago on Thanksgiving. "That baby is coming today," he said figuring that holidays had played such a part in its being that it was only fitting.

Foreman laughed. "Then why are you at work? You hardly ever take a day off. You must have at least eight weeks worth of vacation time built up.

"Ten," Chase answered.

"Go home! You can be anxious and fidgety there and you won't wear out your cell phone's capacity to flip."

"Can you believe Cameron wants to go to the charity ball tonight?" Chase asked, ignoring Foreman's advice.

"Yeah, I can believe it," Foreman said. "You want her to rest and she doesn't want to slow down."

Chase nodded. "She's so stubborn."

"So are you," Foreman reminded him. "At least you are on Tuesdays."

"Too bad it's Friday," Chase said, regretting that he had given in about the party. He reached in his pocket and brought out his phone. There were no missed calls.