I needed to write something, and this was the result. This can be read independently or as a sequel to Que sera sera, and all that jazz. rae of sunshinexx, I hope this satisfies your desire for fluff ;-)
I.
He walks into the bathroom as she's finishing getting dressed for the day and he sees her dabbing perfume behind her ear with two fingertips, a movement so familiar he can't help but smile.
He leans in to kiss her clavicle, as he normally does when he witnesses this particular gesture, but she narrows her eyes at him through the mirror, and steps out of his reach and towards the bedroom.
"I'm not having sex with you," she informs him bluntly, using both hands to signal her huge belly that currently, but not for much longer, houses their son. "There's already too much going on inside there thanks to you."
"I wasn't trying to…" he automatically starts to defend, but the glare she shoots him shuts him up right quick.
She's already a week beyond her due date, and to say she's not happy is an understatement.
"Yes you were!" she practically shrieks, starting to cry.
"That's all you're good for. You're a guy, and you don't get it! None of you have to do this. All you have to do is watch! They…" she says, gesturing wildly towards downstairs where her dads are watching television, "They didn't even have to do that with Shelby! And I'm adding another one of you to the world. He's going to turn out to be just like you!"
Now, in hindsight, he realizes that laughter may not have been the best response.
But, it was funny, okay? Rachel had gone on for months about how excited she was to have a boy, because, apparently, it meant that she had been blessed with the good fortune to share her life with the most amazing men in the world.
Her words. Not his.
He, on the other hand, had been silently praying for a girl. He's seen the way that Rachel's dads are with her; how they spoil and indulge her. He can easily see himself doing that and more – showing his little girl ballet steps, helping her put on stage makeup, singing along to every song from every Disney movie ever made.
One day, hopefully.
It's no secret that he's never been the manliest of men, and he lives in fear of the day that his son wants him to pitch a baseball, build a treehouse on their Manhattan street, or throw around a football. He'll do it of course, but he has nightmares about his son wanting to become a better-looking, better-coiffed version of Finn Hudson, and it being the greatest irony of his life.
What's that saying about sleeping with a man's high school sweetheart and eventually marrying her? Isn't there some unique level of hell reserved for that?
Damn it, she was his first.
Concerned by Rachel's tone and how it echoes through their townhouse, Hiram comes bolting up the stairs only to find Jesse failing badly at holding in his laughter and Rachel throwing socks from the laundry basket on the bed at him.
"Daddy, he was trying to have sex with me," she accuses with delight, confident in the fact that her daddy will take her side.
Hiram shoots Jesse an amused look because they both know that Rachel has been completely impossible to deal with for the past couple of days. All the patience she had had for letting the baby enter the world on his own time has dissipated with her increasing discomfort.
She's absolutely huge, which none of them will ever, ever mention to her, but her belly is gigantic on her tiny frame, and she waddles more than walks these days.
Jesse holds up both hands towards Hiram to declare his innocence. "John wants me to meet him at the gym. Like the dutiful husband I am, I came to ask her permission. I'll have my phone, and I won't be gone for longer than an hour."
"Fine," Rachel says, pouting. "Go. I don't want you here anyway if all you can do is laugh at me."
Jesse looks ready to argue again, but Hiram wordlessly directs him out of the room with a stern finger.
"Good Lord," Hiram says half-jokingly, addressing his daughter. "How are you two ever going to raise a child if your father and I still need to referee your arguments?"
"It was all his fault," Rachel complains, "He doesn't have to go through any of this, he gets to do whatever he wants, and he still gets a son out of it."
Hiram laughs, which earns him one of Rachel's well-rehearsed glares.
"You are being a bit short with us, honey. We know you're uncomfortable, and none of us have any idea what you're feeling, but Jesse has taken the summer off from working to be with you, and he deserves to spend some time on his birthday with his friend."
"Crap," Rachel whispers, "I can't believe I forgot his birthday was today."
Hiram reaches out to pat her belly, smiling when the baby kicks in response. "You've been distracted," Hiram answers loyally. "He doesn't mind. He loves you regardless, and he knows that you have to be the focus right now. You and this little guy."
"He's waiting for his perfect entrance," Rachel recites cheerfully, cradling where she knows the baby's head is. It's a line that she and Jesse have been using to make each other smile in the last few weeks.
"I'll make it up to him when he gets back," she promises Hiram, "But first, a nap."
After seeing Rachel to sleep, Hiram makes his way back downstairs, where he finds Jesse and Leroy watching Top Chef on the huge screen in the living room.
"Boy's whipped," Leroy explains with a laugh at Hiram's perplexed look. "You really thought he was going to leave her?"
Jesse smiles at the on-point dig. "It could be any minute now," he says excitedly. "Literally."
II.
He's brushing his teeth after lunch when Rachel, freshly awake from her nap, waddles into the bathroom.
"I think I'm in labor," she says matter-of-factly.
"You think?" Jesse says, half swallowing, half spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste.
Rachel looks chagrined. "I'm not sure," she admits almost tearfully. "I've been having this back pain all morning, and it's getting worse. I looked at the book, and it's possible that this is it."
"It hurts, Jesse."
They hail two cabs to the hospital, with Leroy grabbing the bottle of champagne from the fridge on the way out of the house.
It turns out that Rachel is in labor – has been for a while – and the baby's closer to being born than any of them had thought.
"See, I told you," Rachel says exasperatedly, when she's situated in bed and the baby's heartbeat is echoing in the room thanks to the monitor.
"Yes, you were right," he concurs easily, far too excited to hold a grudge.
He turns away to pour her some water, but she immediately gets his attention once more.
"Oh," she groans, looking worried. "I forgot to tell you Happy Birthday this morning. I'm so sorry that I forgot."
"I think under the current circumstances, I'll forgive you," he assures her, handing her the glass of water he's finally managed to pour.
"Do you mind that he's going to be born on your birthday?" she asks him anxiously, the thought just occurring to her.
Jesse tilts his head in contemplation. She has her own birthday, and, to be honest, she's the main beneficiary of any and all holidays, plus their various anniversaries. He's proud to say that he spoils his wife, but this means that he's also giving up exclusive rights to his birthday for the rest of his life.
Something tells him that it will be worth it. It amazes him how much he already loves his son, and he's never met him. He would think he was crazy, but it's the same sentiment he has seen reflected in Rachel throughout her pregnancy.
"Maybe it would be easier if you just kept him in there for another day," he teases her, and laughs when she bites her lip, and it actually looks like she's considering it.
"I was kidding, Rach," he promises her, kissing her temple. "It just means that we have to make August 29th a national holiday. Two St. James men born on the same day? That deserves epic celebration."
She manages to smile, even as her breathing labors and he can tell she's in pain.
"St. James family holiday," she declares through gritted teeth and an additional squeeze to Jesse's hand.
"I love you so much," he whispers, but, at that moment, she releases a scream, and he's not sure that she hears him.
III.
Isaac Jude St. James is born at 4:50pm, and it's love at first sight for the entire Berry-St. James clan.
Even from the start, little Isaac has quite the grip, and Leroy and Hiram theorize that he will be a painter, a writer, or a pianist.
"Definitely some sort of artist," Rachel muses sleepily. "Just like his daddy."
Jesse manages to tear his gaze away from where Leroy is holding his son and makes his way over to Rachel's bedside.
He can tell that she wants a bit of attention after ceding the stage to Isaac.
"Just so you know," Rachel whispers conspiratorially as her eyes close, "I totally planned this. Isaac and I had a deal."
"Happy Birthday, baby."
