A capricious rollercoaster of feelings - just for you and Harry, minced with a flavour of each emotion and sentiment you desire to experience.
. . .
[Oneshots] First prize winner of Imagines category in Kiwi Awards, 2019.
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♧
“Let's say—Adam?”
Right now, you and your new born were out with Gemma for a girl date. And unfortunately, baby naming was the ongoing topic. Baby naming feels like changing profile pictures every now and then, because it just doesn't feel right or perfect. The horror, literally.
“Woah, we don't want an Adamlevinepart two in the industry, alright?” She laughed, forking her pasta while your baby boy cradled your body. He was an adorable sleeper, a total prototype of Harry.
“How do you know he'll be a singer, Gem?” You asked with a huff. This was probably the thirty seventh name which she was rejecting.
Gemma simply smirked, “He'sHarry's son. Give him some credit, you muck.”
“Sorry? Did you say you suck? I quite agree though.” You smirked back. It was a quick comeback. She just made a face at you, feigning annoyance.
“Um, how about . . . Jack?” You suggested with a chuckle. “It actually can work. Jack—”
“—off. Nope, it's an excuse for future bullying—Next.” Gemma shrugged casually, causing you to choke on your salad before spluttering out fits of coughs. But nevertheless you tried to control them. It'd vibrate your body and wake the infant up. And no one wants a wailing baby and two panicked adults in a coffee shop.
Gemma gave out an amused chuckle at your reaction. “Don't work it up now. Give him to me and cough all you want.”
She didn't have to wait. You immediately handed her your baby boy across the table, being extremely heedful about it. The second she took him in her arms, you broke out into a series of coughs, all over again. Gemma couldn't help but laugh while you tried to smile, but it kept being interrupted by an impulsive cough.
It was only three minutes later when you properly stopped coughing and took in a breather. Despite of that, your face contorted into a sheepish smile as you sighed through relief.
Gemma whistled lowly, “Wow, that was a record breaker.”
You shook your head at yourself, “If you keep making these vulgar comments, I can only wonder how my baby boy would bully those bullies in return.”
At the end of the day, the baby couldn't be named, despite of suggesting a hundered and three names to Gemma. That woman could literally find excuses and faults in every single one of them. Like literally.
Looks like I should leave the naming process to Anne, you wondered and chuckled to yourself.
