Months passed. Mimi's 21st birthday was arriving. Her belly, boobs, and butt got huge (the three Bs, she called it) and she could no longer fit in any of her clothes, with the exception of her college sweatshirt, one or two band t-shirts, and a long black skirt that even her grandmother wouldn't have been caught dead in. She started wearing Roger's clothes, but since he only had one good pair of jeans, that presented a problem. Sacrifices had to be made. She wore his pants and he wore Mark's sweats. That didn't last long, though.

Just as Maureen had promised, Mimi was given a 21st birthday bash to remember. The gang, her peeps from Life Support, Roger's sister Libby, her old friends from work and a few girls from school, 2 couples from their building, and even Benny showed up at the Life Café that night, all of them bearing gifts. Mostly maternity clothes (thank God!) and baby junk. She was four months along by now and had started to worry about such things.

Roger snuck up behind her and covered her eyes with his hands. "Guess who."

"George Clooney?" She turned around and faced him. "Well what do you know? I was right." She kissed him.

"I can't believe you're not letting anyone drink tonight," he complained, massaging her sore back.

"If I can't drink on my 21st birthday, no one can."

"Do you enjoy being evil?"

She leaned her head to his and nibbled his ear. "A bit," she said in her most excellent sex kitten voice, and they kissed

"You know," he said, between kisses, "The 5th amendment to the Constitution specifically states 'No cruel or unusual punishment.' I think no drinking qualifies for cruel and unusual."

She snorted out laughter. "That's the 8th amendment, you fucker. Don't be a douche. The 5th is protection against self incrimination." He wrinkled his nose and she kissed him again. "You're cute."

She leaned against his chest and he traced the outline of her belly with his big hands. "How do you feel? Now that you're 21."

She shrugged. "Same, I guess. Birthdays are funny that way. Certain ones always are supposed to have this great significance, but I never felt that."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Like…when you're thirteen…you're finally a teenager. But by the time I was that old, I just didn't care. I was already an adult on the inside. And then you're 16 and it's like 'Woah! I can drive!' But I never learned how, so that didn't matter. Then comes 17 and you can see R rated movies. I'd been sneaking in to those since I was 11. I guess my 18th birthday was okay…I was allowed to have sex with older men and get my blockbuster card."

He blinked a few times. "And vote…"

"Whatever. But now I'm 21 and it's the same as always. This baby thing is making me cynical. Say something to make me happy."

"You…you can drink!" She rolled her eyes, grabbed his hands and placed them firmly on her middle, emphasizing her point. "Oh…yeah…uh…oh, look! Things!" He kissed her cheek and went to talk to his sister.

"Loser," she called after him and he winked at her. "I'll be here! Drinking my water."

Maureen came over and started jabbering away about the "killer baby shower" she was going to throw by the time Mimi was in her seventh month. "…I mean, I know that baby showers should be cute and shit, but this is Mimi Marquez the STRIPPER we're talking about. If Junior is a girl, do you think she'll want to be a stripper? How cool would that be? I mean, of course I'll be the responsible Auntie and tell her 'No way, José,' but dude. Strippers rule. Shame you had to quit. Do you think you'll get another job? Anyway, the baby shower…I'm thinking we'll need a theme…nothing lame like Star Trek. You know, I've never ever seen an episode of that. Maybe I should. Oh, God. What if junior turns out to be a Trekkie? That's it, there's no way I'm letting that baby watch any TV ever."

"Maureen!" Mimi laughed. "Reality is actually mildly cool. You should check it out sometime."

Maureen smiled and waved Mark over. He held his camera up and narrated, "Pan in on Mimi's fat tummy. Is it Mark Junior or Maureen Junior in there? What do we think, Mimi?" He looked up, neglecting to notice at what angle he was currently filming.

"Mark! Get that camera away from my cleavage!"

"Oops! Sorry…" He shoved in into Maureen's hands and she filmed them as Mark tickled Mimi's abdomen and she attempted to strangle him.

Joanne planted herself next to Mimi and began talking about a woman she'd represented her first year out of law school. Her name was Clarisse and she'd murdered her husband during her ninth month of pregnancy. Thanks to her lovely lawyer, she was found not guilty. Joanne had managed to convince the jury that pregnant women could not be held accountable for their actions. Mimi smiled at that and gave Mark a little pat on the head before running over to Collins for a great big hug. She loved his hugs. They reminded her of Angel.

The next morning, Roger woke Mimi much too early for her taste. "Come on! Come on! Come on!" He whined, bouncing slightly on the bed like a petulant child.

"Ughh." She rolled over and covered her head with a pillow.

"Mimi!" He yelled, and pulled the blanket off her. Things had gotten a little kinky between them the night before, and she was completely naked. She gave a little shriek and snatched the blanket away from him, covering herself. "Aww, Mimi. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"It's fucking freezing, you asshole!" She wrapped it around her and stood up to change into some of her cute new—and much needed—maternity clothes. "Why did you wake me up, anyway? I had been having this great dream…I was on a nude beach with Fabio and I wasn't fat and pregnant."

"Fabio!" He cried, and fell onto the bed in mock death.

"It was only a dream," she said, laughing.

"But Fabio? You'd rather go to a nude beach with Fabio than with me! Mimi, I'm appalled." He got up and helped her adjust the straps on her new black motherhood tank top. "Well, how did he look?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was he…you know…big?"

She put her brown newsboy hat on and giggled. "Roger, it was a dream."

He handed a scarf to her. "I just want to know. Was he bigger?"

"What," she said, "Than you?" He nodded. "Roger, I can not believe we are having this conversation!"

"Just answer the question!"

"Well, sweetie," she began, smiling, "We were learning about George Washington in class the other day, and I just don't think I can tell a lie…"

He came to her with big his big hands and started tickling her sides. "Tell me!" He pleaded.

"No! Stop!" She shrieked happily. She tried to run away and he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Within minutes both their shirts were off and they were making out. AGAIN.

Finally, Roger tore himself away from her and sighed. "There's no time. We're going to be late!"

"For what?" She asked, pulling the tank top back over her head.

"Mimi, you forgot?"

"Forgot what?"

"Mimi," he groaned. "The ultra sound! It's today!"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Shiiiit!" She moaned. It was supposed to be neglectful daddies forgetting about things like ultra sounds. Not mommies. "I'm a terrible mother!" She wailed.

Roger groaned. "Mimi, cry later! We need to be there in half an hour!"

She rushed to put on her shoes. "They don't fit!" She cried. "My feet are swollen!"

"Wear mine."

"But what will you wear?"

"I have my old sneakers." He was still putting them on while they were running out the door.

As they walked (actually, it was more like sprinting) to the clinic, Roger asked, "So…should we find out if it's a boy or girl? Because I really want to know."

"I'm not sure if they can tell us yet. I'm only four months along."

"Well, yeah," he said, "but we can ask, right?"

She stopped and shook her head. "My mother told me on the phone the other day that it's bad luck to find out the sex before it's born."

"Mimi! Come on! You don't believe in that stuff!"

"Roger," she admonished him, "You're acting like a child. You're not four. Now come, on, if we find out and then we end up with a stillborn…" she shuddered. "I miscarried once before. And we have HIV. I'm not taking any chances with this baby."

He let out a long breath. "Fine, you win. Hey, we're here."

When they got inside, they spent five whole minutes arguing over whether or not to take the elevator. ("It's only 3 floors, Roger. I'm pregnant, not immobile." "You'll tire yourself out, Meems. Do it for the little one! Please?") She finally agreed to take the lift, but called him fat and made him use the stairs, claiming that Americans were too lazy. By the time they both got up to the third floor and made it into the waiting room, they were late. Mimi and Roger went up to the front desk.

"Name?" Asked the angry nurse.

"Um…Marquez?"

"Late!" She barked.

"I know…" Mimi began, "But only by eight minutes."

"More like four months," Roger murmured. She elbowed him hard in the gut and he bent over in pain, gasping for air.

"Well," said the nurse, "We had to give your appointment to someone else. You'll have to wait another hour."

Mimi turned to Roger, annoyed. "Nice going, Daddy."

"Hey," he said, "Don't hate the player. Hate the game."

"How did that even make sense?" She cried, following him to two empty seats and sitting down next to him. "You used that in completely the wrong context!"

"College is making you too smart for your own good." She grinned and he kissed her.

There was a very pregnant African-American woman with the most amazing dread locks Mimi had ever seen sitting next to them. She was holding a little baby and had a six year old-ish girl sitting on her knee. "How cute," said the woman, staring at them.

Mimi leaned her head on Roger's shoulder and introduced them.

"Hi," said the woman, shaking their hands. "I'm Kara. This is my daughter, Beverly, and my son Arturo."

Roger's eyes widened. Arturo. He tried very hard not to laugh. They made small talk about the miseries of pregnancy. Then the nurse called Kara's name. She stood up with her children and went to the door for her appointment, but the nurse stopped her.

"No kids allowed in the exam room."

"Oh," said Kara, "But I…my husband had to work and I couldn't get a babysitter. Please."

"No kids allowed in the exam room."

Kara frowned. "I guess I'll just have to come back later..."

Just as she was about to leave, Mimi heard her self calling out, "We can watch them for you!" Roger gave her no way in hell look, but she ignored them. "Really, go get your appointment. We'd be happy to look after them. Really."

Kara thought about it for a second, and then agreed. "I've got no time for another appointment. Thank you so much." She set down her diaper bag, handed Arturo to Mimi and left Beverly standing in front of Roger, thoughtfully chewing her lower lip. The woman smiled at them both, said she wouldn't be long,

"Roger?" Mimi said when Kara had gone.

"Yes?"

"I've…never actually held a baby before. Ever." He smiled. She lifted little Arturo from under the arms and held him out in front of her. He cocked his head to the left, then to the right, taking in all of Mimi's features. He didn't seem to have any problem with her, because then he simply fell asleep. "Er…Roger?" She muttered.

"Not now," he said, "I think I'm having a staring contest with Beverly." The two of them were glaring unflappably at each other.

"You blinked!" Beverly cried.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Told ya' so!" Beverly stated obnoxiously.

Roger squinted his eyes and tried to figure out where he'd gone wrong in all that. Then he turned back to Mimi. "What?"

She held up Arturo. "It's asleep."

"And…?"

"So, now what?"

"Um," he said, "You hold him."

"That's it?"

"Yup. That's it."

She looked down at him. He was cute. She wondered if her baby would be cute. "Do you want to hold him?" she asked Roger.

"Not particularly…" Beverly suddenly climbed onto Roger's lap. "Hey, what are you doing!"

"There's no other chairs!" She whined. "And my feet hurt."

"Well…sit on the floor."

"Roger!" Mimi scolded.

"Grrrrr."

"Did you just growl at me!"

"I'd…rather not say." He looked to Beverly and waved. "Hi."

"You're a sick weirdo," said the little girl.

Roger's jaw dropped. "I don't understand where this hostility comes from!" Mimi laughed. Arturo woke up, gurgled a little, pulled Mimi's hair, and went back to sleep. Then Kara came back out.

"It's a boy!" she cried happily. Mimi and Roger congratulated her and gave her back her children. Kara thanked them over and over and over and over. She offered to pay them, but of course Mimi refused. Then it was time for her appointment.

The Mean Nurse of Death and Doom (as Roger had thus named her) left them alone in the exam room. Roger helped Mimi change into the incredibly ugly blue paper hospital gown, and the doctor came in just as she was sitting on the exam table.

"Ah," he said, "Miss Marquez. How are you this fine day?"

"Pregnant."

He laughed that soap opera doctor laugh. "I can see that." He asked her some questions (How have you been feeling, how often do you pee, are you experiencing any unusual discomfort, have you been taking the Navirpane, do you know when the child was conceived?) and nodded rather stupidly each time she answered. Then he told her to lie down, opened up the gown at the belly, and then squirted some blue gel on her. She gave a little yelp at how cold it was and grabbed Roger's hand. The doctor began to do the ultra sound. A little gray and white picture appeared on a screen in front of them.

She smiled and couldn't help but laugh. "Is…that the baby?" She asked.

"Sure is."

She looked up at Roger and grinned from ear to ear. He kissed her forehead and gave her hand a little squeeze.

He pointed to the screen. "That's the head, right there. Do you see?"

She nodded. "I think so. Is that little blinky thing the heart beat?"

"Indeed it is, Miss Marquez. Now, you don't want to know the sex, correct?"

"Correct."

Roger let out the most blatantly obvious sigh of annoyance this world has ever heard.

"Oh, shut it, will you? No, doc, we don't want to know."

"Well then," he said, "everything seems in order. You'll be giving birth to a fine healthy little girl or boy on what should be…" he checked his chart, "January 22nd."

"January 22nd," she repeated, instilling the date into her memory. "January 22nd, 1991."

"Doc?" said Roger. "Is there any way to find if…you know…if junior here has HIV?"

The doctor frowned. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid we can't know for sure until it's born and has been on Navipane for at least a year."

"A year?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a whole waiting room full of pregnant people."

A/N: You like? Please review! Sorry it took so long for me to update, this was a long chapter. Until I update again, I'd love very much for you to read my latest oneshot "When Your Heart Has Expired." You can find a link in my profile. Thank you! And remember, review!