Maureen sat on the floor of the loft. A pile of books lay at her feet. Mark danced around the loft filming everything. Roger flipped through a book in the corner. He glanced up every few seconds to look at Collins. He'd gotten sick three weeks ago. Really sick. They decided to bring him back to the loft, much as he protested. Collins now sat propped up on the sofa, his makeshift bed since he refused to kick any of them out of their own bed.

Collins stared at them all and a small smirk played on his lips.

"What's so funny?" Mark asked from behind the camera.

"This is fucked up," he said with a small laugh.

"What?"

"Think about it. Five years ago we moved into this place. Me, Maureen, Mark, Benny. Then Benny moved out and Roger moved in. Then Mimi moved out and April moved in. Then April…and then I left…."

"Collins, you goin' somewhere with this?" Mark asked.

"All these years, all the bullshit we been through and here we are. Rooming together again. Only now Maureen's pregnant with Roger's baby," he said.

Maureen giggled. "It is kinda funny."

The other two gave in to the laughs and Mark set down the camera.

"Okay, so how sure was the doctor?"

"Hundred and nine percent," Maureen said.

"Boy. It's definitely a boy," Mark said.

"You better learn to throw a football, Cohen," Roger said.

Collins reached an arm down and picked up a book off the floor. "Damn, Maureen, these things all baby names?"

"Collins, a name is very important. It's what defines who we are."

"What about the whole 'rose by any other name' bit?"

"Shakespeare….well the guy's name was Shakespeare. Probably grew up being teased and called Shake-a-Spear or Shakes-and-Peer."

Collins laughed again. "Fair enough. You guys got any ideas?"

"Well I like Matthew," Mark said.

"Uh-uh, no way," Roger said.

"What? What's wrong with Matthew?"

"Too---normal."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "So you suggest…"

"Damon."

"No," Maureen said, shaking her head. Her eyes never left her book.

"What? Why not?"

"Because. You're not naming my kid something that sounds like Demon."

Roger laughed. "Guess that isn't such a good idea."

"How about…"

"David," Collins said.

They all looked up.

"David?"

"Yeah. David. Gives him a connection to both his dads."

Mark and Roger looked at each other, confused.

"Okay Col, even I'm not getting this one. How's that name connected to Mark and Roger?"

"David's a Jewish name."

"Okay."

"Roger Davis. The baby's Davis's son. Davison. Davidson. David."

Maureen smiled. "David. David…I like David."

Roger nodded slowly. "Yeah…yeah. It's a good name."

"Then that settles it. David."

"Now we need a middle name," Maureen said, flipping another page.

"What?"

"Oh come off it, you both know you have to give a kid a middle name."

"No you don't," Roger said.

"Yeah, you do. It's probably a law or something. Besides, I'm the mother. If I say he's got a middle name, he's got a middle name."

"Could come in handy if he gets in trouble," Collins said with a smile.

Roger and Mark laughed.

"Okay, so David….something that goes with David….David Austen?"

The men both shook their heads.

"David Paul?"

They stared blankly at her.

"Fine. Um….oh here! David Anthony."

"No, doesn't sound right," Mark said.

"David ….Adam?"

Roger shook his head.

"David Schunard," Mark said suddenly.

"Ooh! I like that! David Schunard Cohen….not quite complete though."

"How about David Bernard Schunard Cohen?" Roger said. Bernard was Collins's middle name.

"Bernard Schunard? That's sweet but are you tryin' to get the kid's ass kicked?" Collins asked.

Roger laughed. "Nah, guess you're right….How about David Michael Schunard Cohen?"

"Michael?" Mark asked.

"Your middle name, dumb ass," Roger said.

Mark threw him a mocking glare and laughed. "I don't know…"

"I do! I like it. Beautiful. David Michael Schunard Cohen," Maureen said.

"Quite a mouthful, though…David Michael Cohen," Collins said.

Maureen pouted. "But I want something from Angel—"

"Didn't she ever tell you?"

"Tell us what?"

Collins smiled. "Angel's given name was Michael. She didn't start goin' by Angel till she was sixteen."

"Perfect then! David Michael Cohen!" Maureen said, squealing in delight.