This is a prompt taken from imagineyourotp on Tumblr. Imagine your OTP coming up with baby name ideas, and Person A starts to suggest joke names while Person B is trying to be serious. Eventually Person B gives in and they try to come up with the worst name possible.
A/N: I apologise if you liked any of the names John doesn't. I used the more obscure names on the 'top names of the 1920s'. This isn't really a serious story, I've written it quickly after a sudden burst of inspiration. But it's fluffy, and I hope you like it. I'd love to know your thoughts.
Disclaimer: Put it this way, something like this would be happening in the show if Downton Abbey belonged to me. Sadly it doesn't, and neither do these two characters, no matter how much I want them to. I'd say this is set in an alternate universe after S3, but it could also be a few years after the current series finished *fingers crossed* we get something like it one day.
The Art of a Name
"What about Caroline?"
Anna asked, looking intently at the note pad she had in front of her, chewing on the pencil she had found in one of their drawers downstairs.
John merely grunted his 'approval' as he continued to read his latest book, his eyes almost closed anyway given the time of night – nearly morning – and the length of their day up at Downton Abbey, and their days recently. Lord Grantham and Lady Grantham had been hosting numerous guests, and since not all of them had thought to bring lady's maids or valets, Anna and John had been required to step in and help where necessary. John had not been thrilled at the prospect, especially considering the condition Anna was in. But as she had told him during an exchange in the courtyard, none of the family knew yet, and neither did Mr Carson or Mrs Hughes, so it was hardly their fault for asking their help. For them to do their jobs.
Anna was only just reaching her fourth month of pregnancy, and so far there was little physical evidence of the little life growing inside of her. Only husband and wife could tell that Anna was carrying their first child, under the veil of the night and beneath the comfort of their bed sheets when John would rub the palm of his hand across her naked stomach. Then there was a bump.
Anna had been to visit Doctor Clarkson around a month ago after John had insisted and persuaded her to go. Anna had been a lot more tired as of recently, and she had snapped at John a few times at home. One time it had been because he had mildly forgotten to put an extra sugar in her tea. Needless to say, John had been concerned and he had insisted she see Doctor Clarkson.
And when she had brought the news back home to him that night, he had been overjoyed. So had she. And it took all of their strength not to spread their good news the next day up at the Abbey. They had decided to tell their friends and employers once the pregnancy was more visible – some time over the next month, then it would give Lady Mary enough time to find a replacement.
"John, what about Caroline for a girl?"
John was pulled away from Burns – a poet he could probably recite, but still thoroughly enjoyed regardless – as he looked across at his wife, who was lying on her side in their bed.
"It's a nice name."
Anna sighed, fixing him with an evil stare.
"Anyone would think the name of your child doesn't even matter to you."
John knew that Anna was teasing him, that she was tired and probably a little bit emotional. But she had been overjoyed and giddy at the thought of choosing some potential baby names that he had not had the heart to refuse her, even if he was exhausted.
"Of course it does," John argued. "But no one even knows yet. Surely we could wait a little while?"
"We know."
John sighed, and knew that he would not be winning this battle. In order to prove his point, he dramatically turned onto his side and closed his book, marking the page and placing it on his bedside table. He then turned around and propped his head up on his elbow, looking at Anna and waiting for her to continue.
"Go on then, give me your best ones."
"Harry for a boy."
John had once known a Harry, and a nastier person had never drawn breath. He scowled at the suggestion. Anna noticed this and sighed, reeling off another of her suggestions.
"Charlotte."
Charlotte Haricot had broken his heart when he was six years old.
"Rebecca. Becky for short."
No. Vanity Fair.
"Samuel."
One of the hall boys was a Sam. He never warmed to him.
"Juliet."
Too Shakespearean tragedy.
"Oliver."
Too Dickens.
Anna sighed and threw her note pad good-naturedly at John as he sighed and rebuffed all of her suggestions.
"Well, do you have any ideas?"
"What about Thomas?"
John asked innocently, watching for her reaction.
He raised an eyebrow.
She raised hers.
"Thomas?"
"It is a perfectly good name." John reasoned.
"So is Donald."
"Donald seems like a very strong name."
Anna sighed.
"If you're not going to take this seriously…"
"I am being serious."
John was trying not to laugh.
"What about David?" Anna proposed.
"Gladys?"
"Martha?"
"Mildred?"
"Billy?"
"Bernice?"
"Lawrence?"
"Beatrice?"
Their rally continued for another few minutes at least, John doing his best to make Anna laugh with his suggestions.
"Geraldine?" John asked, shifting his arm across to her side of the bed and wrapping it over her waist, pulling her gently towards him as Anna tried to keep her face solemn and passive to his 'amusing' suggestions. He lowered his voice, "Gertrude?"
"No child of mine is going to be called Gertrude Bates." Anna began, moving her hand to fiddle with some of the buttons on his night shirt. "Maybe we could call her Pearl? Or Myrtle?"
John raised his eyebrow, glad to see her involved in his little game.
He pretended to consider it for a moment, "I don't know. I always liked Cecil."
"Mm, Cecil, maybe…"
"We could always call our daughter Eunice. And our son Horace. Eunice and Horace."
This seemed to be the suggestion to finally drive away Anna and her passive streak, because she eventually fell into uncontrollable giggles. John revelled in the feel of her face falling forward and resting against his chest, her shoulders moving up and down as a signal that she was still laughing to herself. He chuckled with her, his hands rubbing up and down her back.
When Anna did pull back and look up at him, the pair descended into laughter again. Mid-laughter, Anna let out a rather loud and impressive yawn, causing her to stop as silence descended around them for the first time in a while. But once she had finished, Anna giggled again – seemingly quite unable to stop.
John silenced her with a kiss. He captured her lips in a long, passionate embrace that worked to rapidly increase their breathing rates. When Anna pulled back she was breathing heavily, although that did not prevent her from moving her head to capture his lips this time, initiating another kiss between them.
Anna frantically began to undo the rest of his buttons, whilst John made easy work of her nightgown. She placed soft, teasing kisses to his jaw line and then neck, moving across his chest where she began to play with the coarse, dark hair she found there. She kissed the skin just above his heart before speaking softly, "At least we have a little longer to think of some more."
"I don't know what you mean," John began, placing his hands on her hips. "I think Horace Bates has a nice ring to it."
John carefully flipped Anna over, causing her to squeal out loud as her husband settled on top of her, laughing first but then letting out a high-pitched moan as he began to nip at the sensitive skin of her neck, his hands thoroughly caressing her sides and chest as he continued his ministrations.
Anna closed her eyes, revelling in the sensations that her husband was building within her, and all the while forgetting about their previous squabble. It would be a topic of debate for another day.
But five months later, they would settle on one of the suggestions from that night. Five months later Martha Beatrice Bates would arrive into the world, and John and Anna would decide in the moment they fixed their eyes upon their baby girl that their lives could never have taken a better turn. And that they could not have picked a more suitable name for their daughter.
THE END
