This is just a short chapter. Bed rest isn't exactly thrilling to write lol

Month Seven

Bed rest sucked. There was no other way to describe it—bed rest sucked. Spencer was not someone who was built for inactivity. Maybe he wasn't the most physical, but he was one that needed some kind of constant stimulation. Television didn't count, either. He'd already played through all his games, watched tons of movies on Netflix, read every book he had in the house. One week into his orders of bed rest and Spencer was already going insane.

His blood pressure still wasn't as perfect as Hank would like it and the contractions kept threatening him any time he was up and moving for too long. Hank was worried that the babies were going to try and come too soon. Twenty-seven weeks was much sooner than they wanted. They wanted to get Spencer to at least thirty-two weeks. That was the typical date for triplets to make it to. He'd already been restricted to minimal movement before this, Hank ordering him to be on his feet for no more than thirty minutes at a time, maximum. But even that hadn't stemmed the blood pressure or the contractions. So now Spencer was on full bed rest. The only time he was allowed up was to use the bathroom and even then Hank very strongly suggested that Spencer show no shame in using his powers to get him to the bathroom and back.

He used his powers to get him to and from the school. Bed rest or not, Spencer was not stopping teaching. He'd come to enjoy his teaching position far more than he'd ever planned on. He liked the work and he loved the students. So when he found out that he was going on bed rest, the very first thing he did was replace the chair in his classroom with a comfortable couch that he could sit on. Sure, it looked ridiculous to be lounging on a couch in front of all his students. None of them seemed to care, though, and it worked perfectly to keep Spencer rested and relaxing. Hank allowed it, provided Spencer lay down better between classes. He even had a time schedule set up for how long Spencer was allowed to lay on one side before switching over to the other as well as positions that Spencer wasn't allowed to lay in.

There were some things he could do, even if he didn't exactly admit to doing them in front of the others. Not many people knew that Spencer knew how to knit. He'd learned years and years ago not to share that little detail. Derek had almost laughed himself hoarse when he'd found Spencer knitting a Doctor Who scarf for himself, and later the TARDIS beanie for Penelope. But it had been one of those things his Mom had taught him way back when he was younger. Back when she was still doing somewhat okay and the doctor had encouraged her to do things that would keep her mind working and would help her focus when she felt out of sorts. Diana had learned, and she'd taught Spencer in turn, claiming it was a talent he should have.

Spencer used that talent while on bed rest to entertain himself when no one else was around. There was a little bag in the drawer of his nightstand that held his needles and yarn. He'd already knitted a few baby items. Some hats and some little mittens and socks. What he was working on now were blankets for the babies. Once he was done he'd slip them in with the babies' things. No one would need to know that he'd been the one to make them.

But on this late Sunday afternoon, knitting wasn't an option as he lay in bed, nor was in the mood for another movie or another book. He felt restless, which had him on edge, and none of the options provided for him were really all that entertaining. The only thing that was keeping him from going insane was the man currently hanging out in his bedroom with him.

Spencer was sitting propped up at the head of the bed with a mound of pillows behind him and his blankets tossed to the side. He was dressed in a pair of pajama pants and one of the nightshirts that Derek had gotten for him that was big enough to almost be a dress. Spencer felt ridiculous in it. However, it was extremely comfortable, and right now comfort was more important than fashion. Remy, the little bastard, was down at the foot of the bed lying on his back and amusing himself by painting Spencer's toenails. Spencer had tried to stop him, but he'd learned many times over that sometimes it was best to just let the Cajun have his way. He was less dangerous that way.

"I'm bored." Spencer sighed out. He was trying to twist enough to be able to see what colors Remy was painting his toes; his stomach didn't exactly make it the easiest to see.

As if sensing what Spencer was trying to do, Remy curled his hand over Spencer's ankle to hold him into place. "Hold still or y'r gonna mess me up."

"Why on earth are you painting my toes anyways? Why do you even know how to paint toes?"

"Painted Stormy's toes plenty of times when I lose a bet with her." Remy said. He tipped his head and Spencer very much did not think how adorable he looked as he stuck his tongue between his teeth to better concentrate as he painted Spencer's pinky toe. When he finished, he grinned and looked up at Spencer. "I did em last night and figured maybe I'd bring de polish and do y'rs, just fo' fun. Better dan sitting and doing nothing, oui?" All of a sudden his grin grew and he tossed aside the now closed bottle of nail polish. Dark blue, Spencer saw. At least it wasn't neon pink or anything like that. He watched as Remy stretched himself along the bed to grab at his coat, which was hanging on the post of the footboard. "I brought something else, too. Thought it might be fun."

"Oh Lord." Spencer mumbled. That wasn't exactly a reassuring statement.

A second later Remy made an 'ah-ha!' sound and proudly held up what looked to be a…pen? "Got it!"

"Remy—what is that?"

"A body pen." Remy said. "I got a few of em. Dey're fun." He straightened back up, moving to a cross-legged position instead of lying down. He was dressed just as comfortably as Spencer was, in a pair of sweats and a large white t-shirt.

"You are not drawing on me!"

"Hush. It'll be fun. Y' was saying y' were bored!"

"Not bored enough to become your easel, Remy LeBeau."

"Psh. Calm y'r ass, cher. It'll wash off in y'r next bath. Until den, why not? It'll entertain us." He flashed Spencer a grin. "I'll let y' draw on Remy later."

There wasn't really anything that Spencer could do to stop him short of using his powers to get Remy off the bed. Really, what would it hurt? Sighing, Spencer rolled his eyes. He didn't have to say anything. Remy recognized his surrender and made a happy sound before scooting up the bed and to Spencer's left side. There, he settled in once more with his legs crossed, and he caught Spencer's left hand up in his. "So, what's going on wit' de babies dis month?" Remy asked as he started to draw on Spencer's middle finger. Again, his tongue slipped out the corner of his mouth as he bit it, his attention focused on his drawing.

Spencer watched as the black paint or ink or whatever from the pen turned into little twisting flames over his fingers. As he watched, he recited the facts that came so easily to mind at Remy's question. "The babies are almost two pounds by now and should average around 14 inches in length. They sleep and wake now at regular intervals and are even opening and closing their eyes and sucking on their fingers. Their brains are growing and are more and more active now. Their lungs are developed enough that they could survive if born now, though it would take a lot of machinery to keep them that way."

"Dey aint gonna be born yet." Remy said firmly. He stopped his drawing long enough to look up at Spencer as if to make sure his words were sinking in. "We got y' resting and Hank's taking care of y'. De babies aren't coming out yet, cher. Don't y' worry y'rself. We just gotta get through, what, five more weeks, right?"

Oh, only five? Spencer kept that rather sarcastic sounding thought inside his own mind. No reason to get snarky with Remy when he was only trying to help. "Yes. The goal is thirty two weeks, though anything longer than that would be wonderful."

"Y'll make it. Y'r too stubborn not to." With that pronouncement, Remy went back to work, adding the flames down over the back of Spencer's hand and down to his wrist. "Y' and Derek thought up any baby names yet?"

"I keep asking him and he keeps telling me he doesn't know yet. But he hasn't really liked any of the ones I've suggested so far." It was rather annoying, actually. Derek seemed to have no issue shooting down any names that Spencer suggested yet he couldn't come up with any on his own. Shifting against his pillows until he was comfortable again, Spencer tried not to scowl and only succeeded in looking like he was sulking instead. "Fran told me that Derek's dad was the same way when she was pregnant. She says in the end, she had to pick all the names and he was just stuck with them, an she told me I'd probably have to do the same. So I told Derek if we don't settle on something soon, I'm picking them and he can just deal with what I pick."

"Why don't y' name dem after Knights?" Amusement colored Remy's voice and he snuck a peek up at Spencer's face. "Y' could have y'r own round table, eh Merlin?"

Spencer rolled his eyes and shoved his knee out at Remy, who just took the blow and laughed through it. "I am not saddling my children with any strange names."

"Aw, c'mon! Y' don't like Percival? Lancelot? Galahad, maybe, or Bohrs."

"Shut up." God, the idea of saddling his children with that kind of name was painful. He was not going to do that to his children; especially not with how much Remy liked to call him Merlin. It was part of why he hadn't put Arthur on his baby name list even though he liked the name. Spencer's free hand came up to rest on his stomach as he tried to rub away the kicking that was starting up. "I don't really know what I'd pick. It's, difficult. More difficult than I realized. Hotch warned me, and so did JJ, but I didn't really realize. So many names I come across inspire certain thoughts. I mean, I love the name Theodore, but I think of it and all I think about is that it's Ted Bundy's first name."

That made Remy wince. "Yeah, I can see how dat would suck. Not exactly something y' want y'r little one associated with."

"Exactly. I like Nathaniel, but there's the serial killer Nathaniel White, who beat and stabbed six women to death in the early 1990's. I like Cyrus, but then I think of Benjamin Cyrus, who led that cult and who held Emily and I hostage. There are just, I've worked with serial killers for years and my brain is so full of all those things. Names of the killers, of their victims. How do I pick a name beyond all that?"

"Y' can't let y'rself think of it, Spencer. No, I know, it aint easy." He added on the last part when he caught sight of the look on Spencer's face. "Y'r memory works against y' here. But, y' gotta just find a name that y' like, one dat y' enjoy, and even if it's got a bad tie to it—so what? Y' take de name and y' make it y'r own. De babies, dey're gonna grow up to be deir own people, y'know? Let em build a new legacy fo' deir names. It aint like dey're gonna be tainted just because someone else dat has deir name did something horrible."

He was right. Spencer knew he was absolutely right. For a few moments he stayed quiet and just watched as Remy continued to draw, up onto his arm now. On the inside of Spencer's wrist he had made a heart with little flourishes out of it and was now adding a star next to it, though the two looked slightly connected somehow in a way that Spencer could privately admit looked rather neat.

The silence over the room wasn't heavy. It was easy and relaxed. Comfortable. It was always comfortable between them. When Spencer broke it, it didn't feel strange, either. "I like Rebecca. Rebecca Lynn. It's a pretty, old fashioned name, and Derek hasn't turned it down yet."

Remy hummed lightly in the back of his throat. "It's a pretty one. Strong, too. What about fo' de boys?"

Not letting himself hesitate or overthink it, Spencer blurted out "Elijah, maybe. Or Gabriel. Derek didn't seem to protest Elijah, but I'm not sure how he'd like Gabriel. You know his, his issues with the church." It was why Spencer hadn't added yet another name to the list that he loved. He kept that one quiet now.

"I like em." Remy said. "Dey're good names. Solid names. Ones dey can take and make deir own." Another star was appearing by the star and heart already there. The three shapes were joined together and yet were also separate. Spencer was fascinated as he watched them form. Remy didn't make them simple; there were curls and swirls and little flecks of what ended up looking like stardust all around them, and a ribbon that seemed to twist and wind around them and twine the three together, with no beginning or no end in sight. As Spencer watched, Remy put a G in one star, an E in the other, and then an R in the heart.

He looked up at Spencer and smiled, warm and happy, and Spencer fought the little twist in his stomach at the sight of it. It wasn't anything; just kicking. That's all that feeling was. Just a kick. Maybe if he told himself that enough, he'd believe it.