They're driving home after the wedding, less a roommate thanks to the weird Schmidt/Gretchen situation, and Jess is in the driver's seat, humming softly to a song playing only in her head.
Nick's ears are ringing from the party and his head is swimming from the booze. The road rushing up in front of them is starting to make him nauseous, so he lets his cheek rest against the cool leather of the passenger seat and stares at his roommate instead.
"Hey, Jess," he starts, but she shushes him before he can continue.
"Inside voice," she says, like he's one of her students. "Winston's asleep."
He twists gingerly in the passenger seat to look at his friend. "Wimp," he mutters. "Listen, I just wanted to say thanks for tonight. You really… you helped me out with Caroline, you know? And now it's over and I can move on."
"Aw, shucks," she says, and there's a brief, terrifying moment where he thinks the teeth are going to make another appearance. "It was nothing."
"It wasn't, Jess." There's a red light, and she lets her big, blue eyes meet his and travel down his slumped-over form. "You went all out, and you did a great job, and I just want to let you know that I appreciate it."
"Well, you're very welcome."
It's quiet for a moment, and the light turns green. He watches her as she navigates the road, and he starts giggling as he remembers her performance earlier in the night. She gives him a look like she's suddenly remembered that he's still kind of smashed.
"What? What's so funny, Mr. Drunky Suspenders?" she asks.
"Just… the whole thing. You really put a lot of effort into that girlfriend character," he laughs. "'Our baby! And our other baby!' She was so freaked out, she didn't know what to say."
"Well, you know, we're having twins," she says with a grin. "I couldn't let you just walk out on little Luke and Leia."
He's wide-eyed. "Uh, no. We are not naming our imaginary kids after Star Wars characters."
"What? They're perfectly normal names," she argues.
"They are, when used separately," he says, staring out the window and regretting it when his stomach flips. "But when you put them together, suddenly you have kids who get teased on the playground and parents that whisper about us at PTA meetings, you know what I'm saying?"
"Yeah, whisper about how fun and creative we are!" she says with a snort, slapping his arm. "Huh? Besides, I have a kid in my class named Starlight. I think little Luke and Leia will be just fine."
"It's not like I'm saying their middle names should be Skywalker."
"Jess," he groans.
"Fine," she says. "You know what other names I've always liked for, you know, if I ever have twins?"
"Imaginary twins," he mutters.
"Audrey and Seymour, from Little Shop of Horrors? That would be so cute, right?"
"Seriously? Seymour? You want to saddle a kid with Seymour?"
"You're really picky," she mumbles. Then she's focusing on the road, humming what he's pretty sure is "Suddenly Seymour," until she cries, "Ooh, I've got it. Frances and Johnny!"
"Who are they?"
"The main characters in Dirty Dancing."
He sighs and suddenly sounds exhausted. "No, Jess. No."
"Oh, come on."
"You are not allowed to name our fake children," he slurs. He closes his eyes and tries to get comfortable.
"Guys," groans Winston from the backseat. "Shut. Up."
"Sorry," they say in unison.