Disclaimer: These characters belong to Aaron Sorkin and the masterpiece that is the 2006 television series Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip. I am not making any profit from this except for a little writing practice.
"I've got one," Matt offered, kneading his knuckles into the bottom of Harriet's aching feet.
"Just because it works for a boy and girl does not mean I'm naming our child, Danny." Harriet laughed at her husband, it wouldn't surprise her in the least if that was what he was about to suggest, which was why she needed to nip the idea in the bud even if he was joking.
Matt rolled his eyes and leant forward, his thighs bracing beneath her calves until she bent her knees a little with the force of his presence. He kissed her lips softly.
He stank of the studio. Only someone who lived and breathed the history of that building would be able to smell it, it wasn't sweat or paint or buttery popcorn, but ink and paper and hairspray. She missed it. No one said she couldn't drop in, but she was nearing her due date and on maternity leave and her brothers were visiting and Matt's sisters and mother were doting with their unending spa days and books they thought she might like to read to prepare. Jordan was the same, with Rebecca now three, she had a whole host of material and good advice to give Harriet over lunches. Jordan and Danny almost donated some of their old baby paraphernalia before they realised Matt went overboard at the stores all on his own. And then they found out they were having their second a few weeks ago, at least that was taking some of the attention of Harriet. Still, she missed the studio.
But she wouldn't change her new role for anything.
"Oh, that's good," Harry moaned when Matt reached her calf. Her feet were so swollen these days, her lower back and her ankles taking the brunt of the burden of her pregnancy. Thankfully, Matt had writer's fingers: nimble and powerful. He fixed all her kinks so effortlessly.
"We should name her after your mother," he suggested.
Harriet squinted at her husband. Matthew and Harriet were biblical names but none so much as Eve. She didn't expect he'd consent to baptising their baby until it chose the church, which was fine by Harriet, that was how she had been raised as well, but they were talking names and he was offering traditional biblical names and even talking of having middle names. Five years ago, Harriet could have sworn Matt would put his foot down and refuse her that.
"We're having a girl, are we?" she smirked instead of addressing Matt's offer, just to give herself time to think it through.
Matt's nose crinkled adorably, his eyes twinkling with joy like they did whenever they spoke about their growing family. He'd been so sure their first would be a bit when Danny's first was a girl, but the moment they'd discovered she was pregnant, he'd changed his tune.
"Yes." No joke, no teasing smile, no bets on the table or place for her equally uninformed opinion. "And I think we should name her after your mother."
His large hand settled warmly on her swollen belly and their growing child rippled against his touch. Harriet felt the movement before Matt did but they wore identical beans of pride at the action.
"Why my mother and not yours? Or your grandmother?" Harriet asked, twining her fingers with his against her stomach and trying not to groan too sensually at the way his other hand caressed just below her knee in a way that was both unsexual and completely arousing.
Susan wasn't the best name, Harriet knew, but it wasn't the worst. Matt's grandmother had practically raised him, she'd taken him to see his first John Hughes movie and bought him his first typewriter, paying for his first semester of college when he changed his degree to screenwriting and English Lit. She fostered Matt's love of writing from the moment he was born, to hear Matt tell the story, when she bought him his first journal.
Harriet was also a little bit surprised Matt hadn't offered 'Hannah' as an option. He was always adoring and overly complimentary of her, and to Harry it seemed logical that if Matt was going to offer 'Danny' as a name, or her mother's name, then surely he might suggest her name as well, the one she didn't go by much.
"I ever got to meet her but I owe her my happiness," he said simply, bending over and pressing a kiss to her navel, leaving his lips against her exposed skin until their baby pressed back.
Harriet lifted her hand to rake her nails through Matthew's soft locks. He hummed at her touch but that wasn't why she continued to run her fingers through his hair and scratch her nails against his scalp, she did it because he was warm against her and somehow caressing him like this, knowing he sought comfort in her, he who was so together in public and so vulnerable in private, boosted her self esteem and gave her endless contentment.
"Harry," he said, voice thick with emotion even though his head never rose from where his lips pressed against her navel where their baby lay nor his forehead from their entwined fingers. "She made you who you are. If you hadn't found your faith you wouldn't have found comedy and vice versa."
"I remember a time," she shouldn't have brought it up, but the words were out of her mouth without a thought, "when you thought I should have one not the other."
"No," his voice rumbled against her skin and piercing blue eyes met hers, a fire blazing in his gaze. "Without your comedy, you're Hannah Hayes, with a slew of brilliant spiritual albums trailing behind you and I make fun of you for a living because I don't understand what it is you do if I ever made it that far. And without your faith, you're just like every other woman."
"What? Out of your league?" she teased. Harriet understood what he was trying to say at first, but his second point made less sense.
"Basically, but not the way you're thinking," he backtracked, "You're a model and a serious actor. You might still be a comedian but I'm just another writer. If don't insult you so thoroughly that first week, you don't pay attention."
"Are you saying that if we don't fight, I'm not attracted to you, or attractive?" It might have been hormones but Harriet didn't think she was that offended by what was being said now, she just didn't understand. Her tone wasn't matching that, she didn't think, and she'd always prided herself on her voice being just right, always. To compensate, Harriet kept stroking the back of Matt's neck.
Matthew sighed. "I think I'm trying to say that we would have just missed each other if we didn't have that catalyst of you turning around and trying to prove me wrong."
Harriet smiled softly, tugging on the ends of his hair so her husband looked at her. "I don't think that's true," she told him. "I think, even if you don't insult me that day, you're just awkward and eager enough that I look up your plays. I think if you poked at religion, I'd be incensed and come down to the studio, or it would only be if I was a guest on the show somehow in an attempt to reach a wider audience or prove you wrong. Yes, faith and comedy have always been inextricable for me, but I think we would have happened even if they weren't."
"Faith and comedy, you need both of them, in tandem, to be the Harriet Hayes I love. And you always said it was your mother that gave you those worlds. I just thought..." His exhalation was heavy. "I always thought we'd name our first daughter after your mother. I don't know why."
Harriet bit her lip and craned her neck to see the blush colour Matt's cheeks. "Always? How long is always?"
The colour deepened but he stayed quiet despite her prompting.
"I love it, Matthew," she realised she hadn't told him that. His idea was touching and beautiful and brilliant, she was only hesitant because she thought his family should be honoured too. "And I love you. Some things are just meant to be."
"Nice to meet you, Evelyn Danielle Albie."
"No," Harriet laughed. They hadn't settled on a name, announcing it would be named after family and likely her mother, but Danny also knew Matt would probably object to her mother's name, supplementing similar ones to compromise. What she was really objecting to was his name in there.
"Yeah, I wouldn't go with Albie either."
"It's Eve Jordan, isn't it?" Jordan asked, playing with the incomprehensibly small fingers of the newborn Danny had taken from Matt's grip.
"Her name is Evangeline Daniella," Matt said easily, tender fingers squeezing hers. Evie. Word of hope. Good tidings. Angie if she didn't like Eve. A remembrance of Harriet's mother and a name about words.
"Are you sure?" she asked, searching Matthew's face for any trace of doubt. How did he look - admittedly tired, his eyes were always easily bruised from lack of sleep - fresh and rejuvenated? Harry felt like she'd run a marathon and yet blissful, the same as Matt looked. "It means gospel; the good word of God."
But Matt wasn't smiling at her. He hadn't looked at her once since Danny and Jordan had entered the room, his eyes only for his daughter as though he was afraid of being separated from her too long and only breathed easy again when Danny returned her to his arms.
"I'm sure."