Maybe if I ask Make-A-Wish, they'll give me Glee...Nope. Already tried. I don't own Finn or Rachel (or Quinn, but she's only mentioned). BUT I DO OWN CALE. He's mine. So hands off.

Rachel lay in the California King bed in the master suite of her and Finn's four room apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, her hands resting on her swollen stomach, thinking. Her and Finn had been trying to come up with names for the bouncing baby boy that would be arriving in their lives in three months, but they'd been coming across many problems, most of them having to do with the fact that Rachel was bursting with pregnancy hormones and couldn't stand the idea of choosing any old "average" name for their first child. She thought back to her and Finn's first "find the baby name" escapade.

*Flashback*

"Well what about James? That's a good strong name for a good strong boy." Finn suggested. He and his wife of under a year lay in their large bed looking through books for a name for their first child.

"You really want our son to be so…so…so average? Come on Finn. You've got to have something better than that. Think Finn. Think." She replied incredulously.

"Well what about Isaiah? It's a Jewish name. And it's not too average. It's just right."

"Isaiah? Are you actually serious? Finn, Isaiah? It would take the poor boy years to learn to spell his name correctly."

"Fine. Shane. Mathew. Jacob. Caleb. Daniel. David. Nathan. Nate. Aaron. Jesse." At the last name that came out of her husband's mouth, her jaw dropped, and tears swelled in her eyes.

"You would actually want to name our son, our son, Jesse?" She asked, her usual buoyant voice undertook a quiet whisper.

"Dammit Rach. You know I would never want that. But you're being so…hard to please with any of these names I'm giving you. I don't want our son, our son, growing up with some weird name. Alright? I want him to be as normal as he can be." With that he got up from the bed, stalked out of their room, then right out of the apartment.

*End Flashback*

At the sound of the apartment door opening Rachel looked through the bedroom door to see Finn standing there, in his dark blue V-neck wrinkled on the stomach, he had obviously been sitting hunched over, with his hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. He had discarded his runners at the door, and was scuffing the hardwood floor with his grey-toed socks. He looked up at her through his eyelashes, and she motioned for him to come back into their room.

"I'm sorry." He told her, while walking through the doorway of their room.

"No no. I'm sorry. I am being fussy with this. Finn, this is our first son. Our first child. I'm nervous. Scared to death. I never had my mom around to teach me anything about raising kids. Alright? I want our son to stand out. To be a star. I'm pretty sure every mother wants that. And he can't be a star with just any old name."

"Rach. Look, from what I can remember, my mom wanted me to shine when I was a kid. I want our son to shine too. But shining isn't about having an extraordinary name that no other person has. Shining has nothing to do with a name. It's all about attitude. And with you as a mother, I'm sure all our kids will have plenty of attitude." He had moved to sit by his wife on the bed and was holding her in his arms, gently stroking her long brown curls.

"You're right. I don't know how it happened. But you, Finn Hudson, are right. And I, Rachel Berry, am wrong." She smiled up at him and hugged his torso.

"Rachel Hudson."

"Right, Rachel Hudson." She smiled wider and hugged him tighter. "But Finn, why are you so set on having a son with an average name?"

"Drizzle."

"What?"

"Drizzle. Like not pouring but not misting. Drizzling. But Drizzle. It was the first name that I could think of when I thought Quinn's baby was mine. I wanted to name it Drizzle so bad. She thought it was stupid. And looking back on it, it really was a horrible name. And I just don't even want to have thoughts of naming our kids anything like Drizzle."

"You seriously wanted to name a kid Drizzle?"

"Yep. And believe me, the first name that came to my mind when we decided on a Jewish first name was Nimrod."

"We're not naming our son Nimrod."

"I know. So I went to a bookstore and looked through a book of Jewish names, and I found this." He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a bright blue post-it and on it was written Cale Alexander Hudson. "See. It's a unique, but not horrible, Jewish first name, a not-so-original, Christian middle name, and just about the best last name in the world." Rachel stared down at the blue square stuck onto her husband's left pointer and middle fingers. She looked up at him, into those hazel eyes that made her melt, and she nodded. She nodded slowly at first but getting more vigorously with each nod.

"Well. It looks as if we, officially, have named you little buddy." Finn talked down to Rachel's stomach while rubbing his hands gently over and across the bump. Rachel smiled, because right now, she couldn't be happier. She had her wonderful husband, who has been putting up with her melodramatic and high maintenance ways for the past ten years, and she has her son, she really has her son, because finally they had decided on a name. The baby was no longer an unnamed bump in her stomach; he was a living little baby. Their living little baby.

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