"We should start making a list of names for the baby." Reaching over to the bedside table, Rachel dips the butter knife into the jar for a hefty amount of jam to slather across her Saltine cracker. Lifting her head, she sees Noah pause from moving around the bedroom to lift an amused eyebrow at her. She makes a face at him and pushes the whole cracker in her mouth in retaliation.
"Okay, but only Jewish names." He unbuttons his plaid shirt before throwing it in the hamper by the adjoining bathroom door. "Ma will disown me if we don't choose something Jewish for Pucker-baby."
"Hm," she ponders, swallowing. "I like Analise," she says, spreading another cracker.
He pauses in the middle of pulling up the window and frowns at her. "It's gonna be a Pucker-boy. Boy names only."
She raises an eyebrow in return. When they found out about the pregnancy, Noah had become adamant about the baby being a boy. Not because of some paternal instinct or because he was worried that he couldn't connect to or raise their daughter; rather he believes that with both of their genes, he'd have to learn some kind of martial arts to keep the oversexed teenage boys away from their gorgeous, talented, overachieving badass daughter. (She's paraphrasing.) He thinks that if he wishes it hard enough and doesn't put "evil thoughts" out into the universe, they'd get a son.
She loves him dearly, but the man's crazy.
"What happens when it's a girl, but we've only thought of boys' names? Let's at least be prepared for the fifty percent chance that it's-"
"Shhhhhhh," he hisses, half undressed, and flies from across the room to take hold of her shoulders. "Don't say that."
You'd think she'd hoped for something absolutely terrible with the way he'd just reacted.
"Noah-"
"Shhh."
"I'm just say-"
"Shh."
Huffing, she pushes him away and grabs another cracker, jerkily smearing more jam before shoving it in her mouth so she's not tempted to call him some not very nice names the baby will hear. It's been sixteen weeks of this. It's a miracle she hasn't strangled him yet, and she still has twenty-three weeks to go. She needs to think of something. And fast.
When she doesn't say anything else, just grouchily munches on her crackers, he goes into the bathroom and she hears the tap start to run.
There's got to be a way to prepare for a girls' name without him fighting her everytime she tries to bring it up.
She goes through two more crackers before she gasps, sitting up excitedly. (Some crumbs fall to the floor, but she'll make him pick them up later.)
There's a clank in the bathroom before he's hurrying over, froth on the corner of his mouth. "What? What is it? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is he okay?" He kneels down next to her, running his hands around her slightly protruding belly while he looks over her.
"I'm fine." He sighs, kisses her cheek and moves to get up before she grabs his arm. "I bet it's a girl," she grins smugly, watching his glower form. "When she comes out and you see that she is, in fact, our daughter, I get to name her."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"If it's a boy," she says louder, easily talking over him. "Then you get to name him."
"I know what you're trying to do." She shrugs and smiles (what she hopes looks somewhat) innocently. He narrows his eyes at her before groaning. "Fine."
"Fine," she repeats, trying to hide her triumphant smile.
They sit there for a moment, the buzz of the bet dangling between them. He draws his finger across her belly. She licks a blob of jam from her fingers as she wipes away the foam from his mouth with her thumb.
"Are we going to wait until the baby's born?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. Do you want to wait that long?"
They'd both agreed to wait to find the gender of the baby. But that was before the bet - and Noah driving her up the wall calling Pucker-baby a Pucker-boy. She bites her lip. "We have an appointment in two days."
"Okay, brace yourself for the cold," their OBGYN warns, squirting a blue gel on Rachel's belly. She moves the wand around until there's a steady "woop woop" sound and their baby appears on screen. "That's your baby's heartbeat, and there's your baby."
Her heart flutters, and she feels Noah grip her hand tighter.
"It sounds like Baby Puckerman's good and healthy."
Rachel looks over to smile at Noah, and though she can't see him clearly with tears blurring her vision, she knows he's smiling right back.
"Now, I know you two decided not to know the sex of the baby, but-"
"Actually," Noah interrupts. "We changed our minds. We want to know." He squeezes her hand.
"Okay then." The baby turns, showing its (She absolutely hates calling their child 'it'.) profile and they all stare at the screen, the two of them waiting. "Congrats, mommy and daddy - it's a boy!"
Rachel can't help but let out a cry of joy. "We have a boy," she smiles through her tears.
He kisses the hand he's holding before leaning forward and kissing her forehead. She closes her eyes, and feels him push a kiss against her lips, murmuring, "We have a boy."
They have a picture of the ultrasound printed.
When they walk to the car holding hands, Noah whoops, pumping a fist into the air, and yells across the road to another couple walking down the street, "I'm having a boy!"
She laughs and places a hand over her stomach.
She stares at the picture the whole ride home.
"Jam."
Later that night, they're laying in bed watching a rerun of The Office while Rachel eats some jam straight from her third jar of the week. "Mine." She protectively moves it away from him. (She knows it's selfish, but what their son wants, their son gets. Their son. She's never been more happy.)
He chuckles, sitting up. "No. I mean that should be his name."
She frowns. "That's not a name."
"James. Jam."
James. "Jimmy Jam. It's clever; I like it."
"Yeah? What about you, little James?" She watches with a grin so wide as Noah shuffles down between her legs and kisses her tummy. "Jimmy Jam," he laughs.
Gasping, she sits up straighter. "He's kicking!" She grabs his hand and moves it to where James is attacking her with his tiny foot.
She watches his face when he kicks again. "Holy crap!" He looks up at her in astonishment before nudging the tiny foot with his nose and continues whispering to her belly. Jam replies in kicks.
Giggling with joy, Rachel kisses the top of Noah's head. "I love you."
"Love you too," he smiles up at her, craning his neck. She takes the hint and leans down, meeting him halfway for a kiss. He turns back to her stomach and kisses it. "And I love you." Feeling their son push against her tummy, she bites her lip at the soft expression on his face.
She turns the television off in favour of watching her boys instead, dipping her fingers in for more jam.
AN: There might be more from this 'verse if anyone is interested.
(edit: fixed some mistakes and made some changes due to characterisation issues)