Another elbow to the ribs. More giggling. Pretty much her usual reaction to everything at this point. Turning, she gives him a once over. "Maybe the back of your shoulder. Or on your chest, over your heart...It'll give you motivation to stay all...Abercrombie and Hot." Grinning, she leans in to peck his lips, fingers walking over his chest. "One of those two." Both of them spend (or will be spending) so much time changing in front of other people that no matter where the tattoos are, there'll be no doubt that they belong to each other.

"Shut it, Puckerman." She raises on eyebrow in response to the groan, zooming the camera in and getting a slow pan of his chest. "Note to Rachel: Help him keep his figure, kay?" Zooming out again, she turns the camera on herself, lifting her shirt to show her flat, toned stomach. "Look at this, Rachel. Look. It's gone now, isn't it? It's all Noah's fault. Hit him. And then let him knock you up again. Pregnant is okay. Fat is not."