Maureen wakes slowly, yawning as she rolls onto her back. A warm hand slides under her shirt, over her belly. She grins, eyes closed, and rests her hand over his. There's a strange serenity that she's flooded with, the warm sunlight splashes in and his hand on her stomach and his breath falling on her neck.

"Good morning, beautiful," he croaks, nuzzling her neck.

"Hi baby," she replies, reaching over and combing her fingers through his short hair.

Roger kisses her neck, making her giggle, and then her collar bone, her breast through her shirt, her ribs and lifting her shirt, he kisses her belly. She laughs again, her fingers massaging his scalp gently. He looks up at her, this new look in his eyes, and he smiles, kissing her once more.

"How are you feeling?"

She laughs again, turning her head sideways on the pillow to look at him better. "It's only been three weeks. I feel fine."

"Good," he says, situating himself between her legs, his chin resting gently on her belly. "Can we tell people yet?"

"No," she grins, biting her lip.

"Why not?" he whines.

She crinkles her nose a bit, not answering right away. "Let's just keep it between us." In case something doesn't work out. In case I'm wrong. In case there's a miscarriage. Maureen is trying her hardest not to think about the last thing, but she wants to make sure. "You're awfully excited about this."

Roger smiles, it's a bit of a nervous smile, but there's that twinkle in his eye. "Yes, I am," he admits.

"Really?" she asks, perking up a bit.

"Really," he nods. "I mean, I'm scared to death. But we're going to have a baby. You and me. Right there," he says, patting her belly.

Maureen feels a rush of emotions flooding her chest, her eyes brimming as he kissed her belly again. "Roger," she breaths, her fingers combing back through his hair.

He climbs up to meet her face, being careful as he did so and holds her face in his hands and kisses her lips gently and tells her that he loves her and he can't think of anyone else he'd rather be doing this with. He wipes away her tears, kisses her forehead and holds her close.

"I'm going to make you breakfast, okay?"

"Alright," she laughed.

She relaxes back on the bed as Roger skips out, clad only in boxers, a grin plastered on his face.

"You're in an awfully good mood. Especially for morning."

Roger turns his head and laughs softly as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

"Yes I am, Marky," he chirps, taking a sip. "It's a great day. The sun is shining, I'm in love with a beautiful woman… my best friend is here."

Mark nods and buries himself further into his book, curling up in the laz-y boy Roger and Collins had carried up the many flights of stairs a few weeks before Collins left for school.

Roger begins digging around in the fridge, clanging pots and pans around, throwing items out onto the metal table. Mark finds it difficult to read and peers over the top of his book, watching the rock star destroy the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"Making breakfast," Roger shouts, spinning around the kitchen as he throws things into a metal bowl.

"You mean making a mess?"

"You wanna help?"

Mark doesn't want to help. He doesn't want to help Roger make breakfast for Maureen. He wants to make breakfast for Maureen, but Mark doesn't say that.

"Sure."

"Thanks," Roger grins, licking whatever is on his finger. "Cause I really have no idea what I'm doing."

"No shit," Mark rolls his eyes, shooing Roger out of his way. "You really are in a sickeningly good mood."

Roger dances around the kitchen, grinding up behind Mark.

"Roger! Get off!"

Slowly Maureen shuffles out of the bedroom and leans against the doorjamb, wearing one of Roger's old band t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, watching as Roger dances around Mark. She laughs softly, walking into the kitchen and sneaking up behind Roger, grabbing his hips.

"Leave poor Mark alone," she scolds, giggling as he picks her up. "I'm sorry, Mark, baby," she says as Roger drapes her over his shoulder. She ruffles his hair gently before she's carried off towards the couch, squealing in delight as Roger tickles her. He drops her gently onto the couch, cradling her head with his hand before falling on top of her.

Mark watches quietly from the kitchen as Roger nuzzles her neck, runs his hands over her thighs, kisses her pouty lips… he clangs around under the stove for a pan, throws it up onto the stove and sighs loudly, however the couple seems oblivious to the racket he's making. Of course they are.

"You want another one?"

"Roger, I just finished a third," Maureen shook her head. "You're going to make me explode."

"Yeah, jeez, Rog," Mark agrees, looking slightly concerned.

"I'm just checking," Roger shrugs, dropping the pancake onto his plate instead.

"While you eat like you're a bottom-less pit, I do end at some point," she laughs.

Mark laughs and picks up her paper plate, throwing it out with his.

"I'm going to go shower," she tells Roger, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "I'll be back in a bit."

Roger nods and watches as she disappears into the bathroom. He smiles and forks up another bite of pancake.

"Rog?" Mark shouts, coming back over to the couch. "Is uh.. everything okay with Maur?"

"Uh, yeah," he nods, wiping his face with a paper towel. "Yeah. Why?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "She just ate more than she usually does…"

"Guess she was hungry this morning."

"You were trying to get her to eat more."

"Was just offering."

"She's moving kind of tenderly."

"She's fine," Roger snaps, looking up at Mark.

"Rog, is she-"

"Mark, drop it," Roger says, trying to smile. "She's fine."

Mark nods slowly as Roger stands up and practically sprints into the kitchen, throwing his plate away and then disappearing into the bedroom. Mark shakes his head as the soft twangs of guitar strings floated out from under the door. The song was familiar, he played it a lot lately, something by Clapton. Mark sighs and leans back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Is that a crack? Shit.