A/N: Warning! Fluff alert! Ewww, I know. It just happened.

"Michael..." Fiona whined, leaning up against me.

I wrapped an arm around her, planting a tiny kiss on the top of her head. "What is it, Fi?"

"I'm tired of this."

"Tired of what?"

She placed a hand on her stomach. "This. Being pregnant. Waiting."

"I can't wait to hold her, either."

She chuckled a little, pulling my hand to the roundness of her belly, where I could feel two tiny feet kicking impatiently.

"I think she's ready, too."

"What do you think she'll be like?" Fiona mused.

She put her arms around me, holding on for a few minutes, thinking. I started thinking, too. Would Mallory have dark or light hair? Blue eyes? Brown? Would she look more like Fiona or me? Would she be quiet and shy or talkative and outgoing? Would she be sneaky? A good fighter? A little angel or big trouble?

"She'll be perfect," I assured Fi.

"Do you think we'll be good parents?"

I stroked her hair. "We'll love her."

"But will she love us?"

Would she love us? I had no idea how to take care of a child, how to raise one.

"Are we ready for this?" Fiona asked, fear in her voice.

I swallowed hard, feeling Mallory's strong kick. I could feel the shapes of her two tiny feet.

"I don't think we have a choice."