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[wormholed]

Scorpius perched his hideous form on the washer and removed the Safari hat from his head. You're being too particular. The red swim trunks were more than adequate.

"Adequate?" asked Crichton. He fished the red speedo from the floor where he'd thrown it ten minutes ago. "I said I wanted to go swimming, not speak in falsetto for the rest of my

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[theunascended]

Daniel stared at the pile that Crichton was making. He ignored the fact that he was talking to himself, although a part of him was vaguely tempted to say hello to Scorpius, too, and just stared. Finally he shook his head and lifted an eyebrow at Crichton.

"Something you haven't told me?"

[wormholed]

"Yeah," said John, slipping the socks onto both hands. Well, to the first knuckle, anyway. He waggled them at Daniel and grinned. "I got really into dolls in the last week. Did you know there's over one hundred varieties of American Girl? I like their foray into historical, myself."

[theunascended]

"Dolls," Daniel repeated. "You know, you are many things, weird being among the most prominent, but I never pictured dolls." Although how he knew the fact about American Girl was anyone's guess. "And I'm pretty sure when I came down it sounded like a pig was being murdered. Which either means you're really enjoying this new obsession or..."

He left it open for Crichton to fill in the blank.

[wormholed]

"How do you know what a pig sounds like when it's being murdered?" John asked. He pulled the socks from his fingers. "Also, what kind of stonehearted bastard doesn't squeal over kitten onesies?"

[theunascended]

"Anthropologist, remember?" Daniel grinned. "You're changing the subject. Why are you changing the subject?" Daniel wasn't going to let the idea of kitten onesies distract him from the kitten onesies.

[wormholed]

"I'm not changing the subject," said Crichton, who in truth had lost track of what the subject was, though he suspected it had something to do with his mountain of baby clothes.

He looked down at it, then up at Daniel, hope and caution warring for dominance in his expression. "It's bad luck to talk about it."

[theunascended]

Daniel followed his glance. "Hypothetically, then, if those clothes aren't for your latest doll obsession, should I be offering congratulations?" He could read between the lines. If he hadn't been told not to say anything, Daniel would have heard long before now. He hoped.

[wormholed]

John tried hard not to smile, he did, but in the end lost the battle just as surely as night loses to the sun coming up. He'd guessed how good it would feel to tell someone, but he hadn't been prepared for the joy welling up in his gut. "Hypothetical ones," he grinned. "I'm uh, hypothetically, really frelling happy."

[theunascended]

"And, uh, hypothetically," Daniel said, beginning to grin a little himself, "how long would I have to make something like a crib?" Although he was fairly sure that was pretty far off, if Crichton was still hiding the fact that Dr. Brennan was pregnant. "You know, the hypothetical crib."

[wormholed]

"Big ol' chunk of hypothetical time," said John, still grinning. "Seven months or so. Why, you got some fine woodworking skills to show off?"

[theunascended]

"Plenty of hypothetical time, not so hypothetical skills. I'm on the building crew, you know, and I built the addition to my hut." Daniel grinned and raised an eyebrow. "And no, it hasn't fallen down, yet. Think that might do? Hypothetically."

[wormholed]

"I think it might. Y'know, I'd ask for a princess castle too, but I'm not sure Bones'd be into it." He had the grace to look embarrassed. "Or if wishful thinking'll get me a girl."

[theunascended]

"Tell you what," Daniel said, laughing and looking more than pleased. "You can keep the princess castle at my place. I have the extra room. As long as you let me babysit every now and then."

[wormholed]

"Long as you don't send her back speaking Klingon, you big nerd," said John, patting the ground next to him. "She'll have a hard enough time learning the missus' language."

[theunascended]

"I don't know Klingon," Daniel pointed out, taking the offered seat. "But you have to teach her languages early if you ever want her to speak more than one. What are you going to do, give her your nanobots?" He lifted an eyebrow. Clearly that wasn't the solution.

"And who are you calling nerd, mister astrophysicist?"

[wormholed]

"They prefer the term 'microbes'," said John pompously. "And I traded in my smarts for leather pants. She's gonna have to get her brains from her mama and nerdy uncle Jackson."