Sydney slips an arm around Michael's waist as they start down the hall toward their bedroom. "Did you check on Jack and Aaron?"

"Yeah. Amanda let them pitch a tent down in the rec room," he says. "Pretend like they're camping."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," Sydney says, snuggling closer to him. "I'm surprised Em didn't beg to camp, too."

"She might have. I didn't get the details," Michael says. "Our conversation pretty much consisted of me handing her some cash and her saying, 'Oh, uh, Jack and Aaron are sleeping in a tent in the rec room. Pretending they're camping.'"

"God, didn't you feel about a million years old lecturing them about appropriate behavior?" Sydney giggles.

"Sydney, I really don't think--"

"They probably think we're the oldest, stuffiest couple in the world." They reach their bedroom, and Sydney undoes the belted waist of her wraparound dress. "Little do they know that while Amanda was trying to keep Jason's hands away from the zipper of her pants, you had me naked up against the wall of a storage room."

"I really don't think this is funny, Sydney." Michael takes off his jacket and tosses it in the general direction of an empty chair. "And you know what really burns me? Emily knew Jason. Do you think she walked in on them doing God knows what before, or do you think Amanda, like, introduced them and told her not to tell Mommy and Daddy about him?"

"Who cares, Michael?" Sydney asks impatiently, selecting a nightgown from her drawer.

"I care, Syd." Michael's dress shirt lands on top of his jacket. "Either our baby-sitter is asking our daughter to lie for her, or Emily's walking in on them doing inappropriate things."

"Kissing?" Sydney asks bemusedly. "Emily's seen people kiss before, Michael. Hell," she smirks. "She could walk in on far more inappropriate behavior in our bedroom on any given night."

"No, she couldn't, because we lock the door," Michael insists. "And anyway, we're married."

"Oh, and I suppose you spent your teen years saving yourself for me, is that it?"

"You're completely missing the point," Michael says, frustrated. "It's bad enough that Emily-- or Jack, by the way-- could and probably has walked in on them, but Amanda's supposed to be watching our kids. Would she have even heard the baby monitor?"

"I know, Michael," Sydney sighs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I don't like her having him here, either, and I told her so. But it probably won't happen again--"

"You mean she won't let us catch her again."

Sydney rolls her eyes. "Can we forget about this long enough to go down to the kitchen and make something to eat?"

"Oh." He frowns. "Of course. I'm sorry, honey. You must be starving."

"Not too bad," she admits. "I kind of pigged out on hors d'oevres at the gallery."

"That's okay." Michael smiles, and he approaches her, planting a kiss on her lips. "You're having our baby." They part, and he regards her seriously. "So this has been interesting," he says with a nod.

"What has?"

"Seeing how it's going to be." A flicker of a smile crosses his face. "I'm going to be the mean parent."

"Shut up," she says with a laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I am so the mean parent. I'm the one who won't let Emily have whipped cream and chocolate on her ice cream because she'll make a mess. You're the fun one, taking them out to play hockey and see the dinosaurs at the museum on the weekends." She considers. "Though I can see you not reacting so well what, ten or twelve years from now, when that's Emily or Grace with her boyfriend on the--"

"Please don't even say it," he winces. "I don't want to have to think about that until it's thrown in my face, and if that never happens, I'll be the happiest man alive."

"You know, it's not like Amanda and Jason were even having sex," Sydney rolls her eyes.

"He was touching boob, Sydney."

Sydney bursts out laughing. "You know, last I heard, that doesn't qualify as sex. It can't actually get you pregnant."

Michael nods with mock seriousness. "You also can't get pregnant if you do it standing up. Or underwater."

"Is that what you told your high school girlfriends?"

Michael laughs. "Come, my dear," he says. "I'll make you a sandwich. You must be hungry after…before."

"So hungry."

Their eyes lock for a moment. "I'll-- I'll tell you what," he says. "You stay here, and I'll bring you the sandwich."

"Ah, a servant," she sighs, flopping down on the bed. "I always wanted one of those."

"I think I'd rather be your love slave."

"I think I'd like even better to be yours."

Their eyes lock for another moment. The moment is dangerous. Electric.

"Go make the sandwiches, Michael," she says after a long moment, her voice low.

"Your wish is my command." He moves to kiss her on the cheek before he leaves the room. It takes everything in her power to keep herself from grabbing him. Stopping him from going anywhere.

Instead she lies back on the bed, anxious in anticipation of the food.

And something else.