No Idea

chapter 12

"Finn," she says quietly, shaking him.

"Five more minutes," he mutters.

"Finn, get up," she insists.

He groans.

"Finn!"

He shoots up, opening his eyes groggily. "What is it, Rach? Is the baby coming?"

She shakes her head. "No, no, I'm only five and a half months, Finn."

"Oh," he says. "Right." He furrows his brow in confusion. "Then what is it, Rach?"

She bites her lip. "It's silly, really, but…"

He stares at her in anticipation. "What, babe?"

"Can you go to the store and get me some peanut butter ice cream?" She spews it all out in one breath, looking at him expectantly.

He glances at the clock. "It's… it's one a.m."

She pouts. "Please, Finny? For the baby?"

He sighs. She knows he's caving; he can tell by the way her lips curl up in a smile. "Anything else?"

She squeals, peppering his face with kisses. "Thank you, baby, thank you thank you thank you." She claps her hands together. "If it's not too much to ask, I'd also like those jumbo marshmallows. And some bananas." She pats her stomach. "Baby likes bananas."

He laughs. "I'll be back in a bit, okay?"

She grins. "Love you."

"Love you, too." He leans over to kiss her on the forehead, then he leaves. He really would do anything for his wife – and for their little girl, too.

He comes back forty-five minutes later, her sack of food in hand.

"Rach?" he calls softly as he comes in the door. There's no answer.

He puts the ice cream in the freezer, then heads back to the bedroom. She's sprawled out across the pillows, her chest rising and falling as she sleeps.

He grins, shaking his head. He takes off his shoes and jeans, climbing into bed next to her. She groans, shifting so she's leaning into him. Her eyes flutter open. "Hey," she murmurs.

He brushes her hair out of her face. "Go back to sleep, baby."

"The ice cream and bananas," she mutters.

"I got them," he assures her. "You can eat them in the morning, okay?"

She nods sleepily, cuddling into his side. "Okay. Love you, Finny."

He wraps his arm around her, kissing her forehead. "Love you, too, Rach."

She's asleep within minutes.

"Finn, we need to discuss names."

He looks up from the stack of papers he's grading to see her staring at him intently, hand resting on her stomach. She's been doing that a lot lately, keeping her hand on her stomach. He thinks it's adorable.

"Okay," he concedes, putting the papers aside. "What are your ideas, Rach?"

"Well," she says, pulling a piece of paper out of the pocket of her sweatpants, "I think we should go with a classic sounding name, like Fanny or Maria—"

"Rach, I'm sorry, I love you, but we're not naming our daughter after the main character in Funny Girlor West Side Story."

She pouts. "Elphaba?" she tries.

He stares at her. "Babe. This is our daughter."

Rachel huffs. "And Elphaba is a perfectly acceptable name."