When Rachel Puckerman first found out that she and her husband were having a boy she had put her foot down and insisted that they weren't going to give their son a ridiculous name. She loved her husband dearly but the problem was that he had come up with some extremely ridiculous names for the little boy that was growing inside of her. And she blamed most of them on the weekly video game binges he and Mike Chang still had. Twenty-four years-old and the two of them got together and still acted like they were twelve.

First Noah had wanted to name their son either Mario or Luigi after Super Mario Brothers, two names that Rachel vetoed without even looking up from the newspaper that morning in her fifth month that he had spat them out. His spoon had clanged in his cereal bowl and she didn't even have to look at him to know that he was pouting. He, of course, insisted that he never pouted because it wasn't badass but he could pout almost as well as she could. Sometimes she even thought his pout was better than hers.

"Babe, come on," he had insisted. "Those are perfectly good names."

"Noah," she said reasonably from behind her newspaper. "I accept that you have an unnatural obsession with those games but the fact of the matter is that I refuse to name my son after some antiquated video game that you happen to adore. So you're just going to have to accept that fact and move on."

After that the names hadn't gotten any better. Next was Leon (vetoed because he spat it out after a Resident Evil marathon), and then Cid (his old school Final Fantasy run had been the cause of that one). Then there was Ash (Final Fantasy XII), Snow (Final Fantasy XII and seriously?), Bill (Left 4 Dead) and Viktor (Call of Duty: Black Ops). And then she had finally put her foot down and told him that there was absolutely no way that she was naming her son after a video game character so if he had to come up with names he better believe that they weren't going to be ones she could link to the games he was playing at the time.

Then came the names that were from Sam and his various obsessions. James (Star Trek) and Jake (Avatar) and Anakin (Star Wars) all of which she vetoed not because they were necessarily horrible but because she wasn't naming their son something that he came up with because of what was on his television screen at the time. It was getting to the point where she was getting ready to insist that he wasn't allowed to have any input as to their son's name.

It got so bad that she even called up his mother of all people to complain about him. And Mrs. Puckerman gave her a weary sigh as though she hadn't expected anything less from her son which she supposed was probably true. They all knew that even if Noah was grown-up now, a married man with a baby on the way, that the odds of him actually growing up was slim to none. She simply told Rachel that they would probably have to just pick a name at random and accept it which, of course, the girl that couldn't go through a single day without micromanaging every second couldn't get behind.

Their son didn't manage to get named until he was actually born and Rachel was holding him in her arms. She had simply looked down at the little boy in her arms with his chubby cheeks and the spray of dark hair on the top of his head and had decided that Aaron suited him just fine. And at first Noah had said something about it being totally uncool and unoriginal and totally notbadass. But then Rachel passed their baby to him and he looked down at the little one's dark, dark eyes and decided that, alright, so maybe Aaron could be badass if the kid himself turned out badass.

And for a while there were no more issues when it came to that. For a while they raised their son in perfect harmony. That was until Noah came home with their eighteen month-old son after an appointment to get his hair cut and the little boy had his head shaved into a mohawk reminiscent of the hairstyle that Noah himself had worn for so many years but was eventually convinced to shave off for good before their wedding.

Rachel had put her hands on her hips and looked at Noah with both of her eyebrows arched, the look on her face doing nothing to hide how frustrating she found the whole situation. Aaron was nestled safely in his father's arms, his head resting on Noah's shoulder, his eyes half-closed like maybe he was tired and was going to fall asleep. But Rachel wasn't stupid. She knew her husband was holding onto their son in his sleepy state in hopes that she wouldn't scream with the baby around. Because she wouldn't do that. But she wasn't happy.

"What were you thinking, Noah Puckerman? He's a baby. He looks silly with his hair like that."

"Come on, babe," Noah tried to soothe as he looked down at his son. "He looks totally badass like that."

"Don't use that word around him."

"He can't understand me anyway."

"Exactly. He can't understand what I'm saying so it doesn't matter what I'm saying."

"He's going to start repeating you if you use words like that around him. And if my son's first word is a curse I will personally smack you right upside the head and you will be spending the next month sleeping on the couch."

Noah just smiled at her at first like he expected her to laugh but the look on her face told him that she was serious. The smile slipped away like she had slapped him right across the face. Aaron yawning saved him from any more of a lecture from his wife because she just reached out and took the little boy from him, her eyes narrowed. "I am growing his hair out and you are never to do this to him again. When he gets older and can choose his own hairstyles I'll let him have whatever hair he wants. But while he's a little boy I refuse to let you make him a mini carbon copy of you."

"Come on, Rach. Even you gotta admit that he looks cute."

Rachel did think he looked adorable but that was hardly the point and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of telling him that. Instead she just took her son down the hall and changed him into his pajamas before putting him down for his nap.

The hair stayed that way for a while because unfortunately Aaron's hair didn't grow out that fast. She had hoped that his hair would be back to normal before they were supposed to go to Sam and Quinn's wedding but unfortunately for her the hair was pretty much still the same. (Of course, she should have known that two weeks wasn't enough time for it to grow out but a girl could always hope. And she had hoped.)

The morning of the wedding Rachel had dressed her son up in his little white button-up shirt and in his little bowtie before she went out to run some errands. She had left Noah with some very simple instructions- make sure that he didn't get his shirt dirty before the wedding so that he looked presentable.

Noah had rolled his eyes at her and told her that she worried too much, insisted that he and Aaron would be just fine. Rachel, however, was dubious at best but she figured he could handle that at the very least. Still, she wasn't completely confident as she left the house. She was only supposed to be out for an hour. Just an hour. What trouble could her son really get into in that short of a period of time with his father there to watch him?

And yet when she walked in the door her son made his way over to her, pacifier in his mouth and she crouched down in front of him to smooth out his little shirt. Aaron folded his hands behind his back and Rachel stopped in the middle of soothing down her son's shirt, looked over at the little play table they set up for him in the living room and sighed. Her husband was nowhere to be seen.

"Noah," she had called out to him. "Can you come out here, please?"

Her husband appeared in the doorway a minute later, straightening out the tie he had just put on and looked at her. "Yeah?"

"What gave you the brilliant idea of letting Aaron play with paint in a white shirt that he's supposed to wear to a wedding today?"

Both of Puck's eyebrows shot up and he turned his head to look at the little table. Nothing seemed out of order to him. The painting that Aaron had been working on was sitting on the table, the paints all in the paint containers, the brushes lying on other paper. He wasn't sure what the problem was. That was until Rachel picked up their son and turned him in her arms so that he could clearly see the yellow splotches of paint on his son's shirt.

Sighing Puck ran a hand over his face. "Buddy, I told you to be careful."

"Noah, he's a toddler. You can't expect him not to get paint all over himself. That's why I bought him that smock. Why didn't you put it on him?"

"I couldn't find it."

"It's hanging up in his closet."

Puck shrugged helplessly. How was he supposed to know that? She was the one who always put it on Aaron.

Shaking her head Rachel looked down at her son. "Come on, little man. Mommy has to find you a new shirt to wear." She kissed her son's rosy red cheek and headed past her husband in the doorway towards the bedroom. "And you, Noah, are on the couch tonight," she called over her shoulder.

Crossing his arms over his chest, and pouting- he totally would deny later that he pouted- Puck watched them go, grumbling something under his breath that sounded like it never would have happened if he had a more badass name because badasses knew how to be careful when they needed to.

Despite herself Rachel laughed as she closed the door to her son's bedroom.