She'd tried everything.

She'd tried sucking it in, doing squats to stretch the material, laying flat on the bed but the pants wouldn't zip. She blew out an exasperated sigh as she flopped back on the bed, finally surrendering. The Bump would no longer fit into anything but her damn sweatpants and she refused to wear those to the weekly meeting.

It wasn't widespread knowledge just yet, but she figured walking through Terra Nova in sweats was like to make an announcement. Then there would be congratulations and probably gifts and possibly even hugs. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate a hug every once in a while, but she felt there was a time and a place.

She threw a cross look at the doorway when she felt smug satisfaction radiating at her. Nathaniel was grinning at her. "Having issues?"

She glared harder.

"There's a baby in there," he said knowingly, pointing at her stomach.

Her composure cracked and she finally rolled her eyes at him.

Seeing that she wasn't too upset Nathaniel abandoned his better judgment and made what would have been an entirely reasonable suggestion under other circumstances (or perhaps given better wording.) "Well if you're getting too big for yours I can loan you a pair of mine until-" her wadded up pants hit him in the face.

Staring startled at the red-faced woman on his bed he seemed to realize his mistake. "Now Wash, when I said 'big' I didn't mean-" The combat boot wasn't nearly as soft as the pants had been.

When they walked into Command thirty minutes later Jim couldn't help but snicker at the content look on Wash's face as she strolled in wearing a pair of fatigues that were heavily cuffed at the bottom and Taylor hesitantly followed, watching his mate warily, and rubbing a small purple mark on his forehead.

Hormones were a bitch.