Danny hugged his wife around the waist as she cooked breakfast. She chuckled as he felt a bump where her belly button used to be.

"You sure you don't mind making breakfast?"

"Danny, you've made breakfast almost everyday since we found out. It's the least I could do."

"Well, thanks." He said as he laid a kiss on her neck. Sam grinned as she felt his stubble. She loved the way it scratched against her, so rough, so masculine, so sexy...

"So are those real eggs?"

"Huh, what?" She asked, having been jerked out of her reverie. "You wish, hotshot. You want real scrambled eggs, you make them yourself."

"Oh, 'hotshot' am I?" He asked as he tickled her recently formed outie.

"Stop that!" Sam replied as she burst out laughing, dropping the spatula, her hands trying to separate Danny's hands as his thumbs rubbed the sensitive area. "You sit down." She stated, victorious. "On second thought, keep an eye on the eggs." Sam ran off to the bathroom.

"I thought we were done with morning sickness!" Danny called out.

"It's not morning sickness. The baby just thought it'd be fun to use my bladder as a punching bag." She replied as Danny helped himself to some breakfast. "So, are we dead yet?" She asked as Danny read the newspaper obituaries, a habit of his.

"Not yet." Danny replied, taking a sip of coffee. "I thought I'd finish painting the nursery today. No, you can't help." He finished, cutting off Sam's reply.

"Ugh, Danny-"

"No, Sam."

"It's because I'm a woman, isn't it?" She asked, a little irritated. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, Danny, but a woman can do anything a man can do, and just as well."

"That's not it."

"Then what is it?" Sam asked, her anger growing.

"Because I don't want you hurting the baby by breathing in the paint fumes!"

"I'll wear a mask!"

"There's still a risk, Samantha!"

"There are always risks, Daniel! What about the risk you took when you walked into your parent's dormant ghost portal?"

"A. I was a stupid kid back then, and B. you convinced me to do it, and C. there wasn't another life on the line! You have a life growing inside you, Sam. Do you really want to risk giving birth to an unhealthy child?" He added, regaining his cool.

"You're right, Danny. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, Sam. It was just your hormones talking. Can you forgive me for calling you 'Samantha'?"

"Only if you forgive me for calling you 'Daniel'."

"It's cool. Actually, I kind of like the way 'Daniel' sounds."

Danny sighed as he looked at the room. The walls had been finished and were now a pale blue. All he had left to do were the borders and the windowsill, which they had agreed would be violet. Putting on an old Harley-Davidson t-shirt that his dad had been about to throw out (read "that his mom was making him throw out"), he opened the window and set to work, masking tape having already been set up so that the border would be as precise as possible.

Later that morning, he went downstairs to make himself a turkey sandwich, only to find Sam asleep on the couch. Chewing his lunch, he watched her breathe in and out, a slight grin across her lips as she dozed. As quietly as possible, he went to the closet, pulled a camera off the top shelf, and captured the Kodak moment. Kissing her gently on the forehead, he resumed his work as he ate.