Spencer Reid was a worry wart. The Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI at Quantico, Virginia knew that well. So the look of utter panic on his face was no surprise as Emily shouted, "Spencer, Spencer, come here quickly!" from the back bedroom of their little Cape cottage. He had stumbled off of the couch, the half read book falling to the ground with an unheard clatter, and he had raced to her side, only to note the look of sheer joy on her face as she lay sprawled out on the brown cotton sheets.
"What's wrong, Emily?" he had asked, eyes checking her over wildly, comparing every bit of her to the image in his brain, but nothing was noticeably concerning. His brows furrowed worriedly, and Emily could barely stifle her giggle.
"He kicked! An actual kick, not just moving around," she nearly squealed, and Spencer's brows furrowed even deeper, trying to figure out when his pregnant wife had been replaced with a squealing imposter. "Come on Spence, baby genius is trying to communicate with Morse code, help me figure out what he's saying." She reached for his hand, and Spencer couldn't help but flinch away.
"It's impossible for an infant to learn Morse code, much less successfully translate it into English words. Even a baby genius wouldn't be able to accomplish that feat. Babies start kicking as early as fourteen weeks, though the mother usually can't feel it because there's plenty of space for him to move around. They kick to explore and strengthen muscles. Babies have also been shown to react to stimuli. In one instance I read about-" he was abruptly cut off as Emily clasped a hand over his mouth.
"No fact babble, Doctor Reid. I'm five months pregnant and our baby is moving, so put your hand on my damn stomach and stop being such a pansy. Henry might have freaked you out but this is not Henry, this is our baby and you need to bond," Emily replied, her tone implying absolutely no discussion in the matter.
"Emily, I've read to him every night since we found out that you were pregnant, I've talked to him, I'm sure he recognizes my voice. And I've touched your stomach plenty of times, why is it so important that I feel him kick? I believe you, I know he's moving," for all his time spent with Emily, Spencer never really learned when to back down as a precaution, resulting in damage control most of the time, and hormonal Emily was even more difficult to deal with.
"He's going to think that you don't love him!" Emily replied incredulously, her hands deliberately placed on either side of her stomach. "And you do love him, right?" She raised an eyebrow threateningly, resisting the urge to squeal as their baby shifted inside of her.
"Of course I love him," Reid replied indignantly, more than a little offended that she thought it necessary to ask. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she curled instinctively into his side. "Why would you even ask me that, Emily?" his brows furrowed.
"Then feel," she instructed, hiking her blue tee shirt up over her baby bump. Spencer just sighed, realizing that there wasn't a way out of his predicament. Instead, he brought a hand, large but slender to her skin, and he waited, lips parted slightly in anticipation. As Spencer felt the flutter against his hand, he broke into a delighted grin. "See, I told you it was different."
Spencer didn't respond, instead he shifted slightly, freeing up his other hand to add it to Emily's belly. "Hi baby," he whispered to her baby bump. "Its daddy, don't listen to what your mother is saying; it's the hormones talking. I bet you know that too though, babies tend to share emotions with their mothers' in the womb because of the hormones they share."
Emily couldn't bite back the grin on her face, "no need for a science lesson yet, Spence," she teased lightly, placing a hand on top of his. "There will be plenty of time for volcanoes and chess later."
"Shhh," he waved her off, "we're bonding, be quiet." He grinned. "Your mom will never admit to it, but she's a genius too, baby. You know she speaks five languages fluently? She's beautiful too, baby, just you wait and see. And she likes to read too, almost as much as your daddy. She loves Kurt Vonnegut you know. You've heard all twenty six of his novels, baby."
"And he liked Breakfast of Champions best, didn't you baby?" She rubbed her hands over her swollen belly, earning yet another kick from the baby. "And Bluebeard. Baby's smart, likes the same books as mommy."
"But baby also likes the classics, don't you," Spencer directed his attention back to their baby. "Chaucer, Kempe, Gascoigne, you won't have to do any of the required reading during high school, just like Daddy," he grinned, caressing her stomach gently.
Emily smiled, tucking a strand of Spencer's wavy hair behind his ear, pulling his attention from baby to her. "We do have to start thinking about names you know. We can't just call him baby genius forever. That doesn't sound very good with doctor," she teased lightly.
"Emily, you are the only one who calls him baby genius, I have never used that particular term. In any case, statistics indicate that a significant majority of couples who choose names before seeing their child change their minds once the baby is born. Even babies have to look like their names," Spencer replied easily, resting his head against the pillow, nose nearly touching Emily's.
"Garcia and JJ call him baby genius too. So does Morgan. You're the only person who doesn't," Emily retorted, voice still light and teasing. "And even if we change our minds, we have to have some sort of short list; we can't just hope that we're struck with an overwhelming desire to call him something. And people do grow into their names, you know. I didn't look much like an Emily when I was little. I do now though, I'd like to think."
"Hotch and Rossi don't call him baby genius, so that doesn't make me the only person," Spencer added in his defense. "Though that's probably because they're both terrified of hormonal women..." was an afterthought. "And I've seen baby pictures of you, Emmy; you always looked like an Emily. You know the name is the English feminine form of Aemilius. In the English-speaking world it wasn't common until after the German House of Hanover came to the British throne in the 18th century. The princess Amelia Sophia was commonly known as Emily in English, even though Amelia is an unrelated name," the facts rolled off his tongue with ease. "Spencer is also English, from a surname which meant "dispenser of provisions" in Middle English," he added.
"Yeah yeah," she waved him off. "What about Alexander? Or Isaac?" Emily's question was more directed towards the baby, than to Spencer in all honesty. "No? How about Samuel?" She waited for some sort of communication from baby, a shift or a kick.
"Emily, he's not going to decide his own name," Spencer chuckled lightly. "It's never that easy. I do like Alexander though, but what about something a little less traditional, you know, not off the top one hundred boy's names?"
Emily just scowled, "well forgive me for not having the top one hundred boy's names list memorized. What would you suggest, oh great encyclopedia of everything?"
"Well, what about Kelvin, or Jethro?" Spencer suggested, pulling a few names from the immeasurable number stored within his brain. "Louis or Graham?" He added a few more.
"No way. No, just no. If you keep throwing out names like that I'm taking away your naming privileges and I'll decide myself," she was teasing, but only barely. "We can do a less common name, but I'd prefer something ethnic instead of outright odd." She shifted in the bed, giving Spencer a bit more room to get comfortable.
"Well what sort of culture are you talking about? Like Italian, or Middle Eastern or something like that?" Spencer asked, wracking his brain for names that fit in the previous categories. "I'm not really a fan of male Italian names, other than Antonio, but I don't like Tony for short," he frowned.
"Maybe Middle Eastern, I love Arabic, but the names," Emily shrugged, "I'm not particularly fond of anything I can think of right now. What about French names?" she suggested. "Mathieu or Sébastien." She yawned as punctuation, failing to hide the sleepiness in her eyes.
"Well, the problem with French names is that people commonly mispronounce them. Unlike most Italian and Spanish, French pronunciation differs greatly from English. That being said, some names can be corrected with anglicized spellings. I really like the name Henri, and it could easily be corrected by sound spelling, O-n-r-i," Spencer responded thoughtfully, smiling as Emily yawned. "It's similar to Henry though, I suppose. You're so cute when you're tired," the compliment flowed smoothly into his speech.
"I like it," Emily mumbled, fighting to keep her eyes open. "It's not that close to Henry," she yawned again. "And I'm not that tired," her words trailed off as she drifted into sleep.
Spencer just smiled, and knew they'd finish the conversation in the morning. So he pressed a kiss to her temple and pulled the down comforter over them. He wasn't quite ready to sleep, but he was comfortable, and so was she, and he was content with whispering quietly to their baby.