“What about Haley?” you asked, eyes shifting from the television that was playing an episode of One Tree Hill back towards the heavy baby book of names that rested on your eight and a half month pregnancy bump.
“I’m not naming my child after a fucking television character,” Michael said, turning his attention away from the laptop perched on his lap to face you. His hand dropped to your belly, gently rubbing his hand in a circle. Almost instantly, his hand was met with a kick, your unborn baby girl clearly annoyed with her father like her mother.
"Oh but we can name her after Queen fucking Amidala, a movie character. Yeah, that makes sense,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.
“Padmé is a badass."
"Excuse me, so is Haley ,” you defended.
“No,” he deadpanned, his hand continuing rubbing across your belly. Your daughter’s foot meeting Michael’s hand no matter how gently he moved it.
"Dammit Mike. I’m due any day now and we still don’t have a name. What the hell are we supposed to do when the nurse asks us what to name our daughter? Oh, we forgot to pick,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“I just want her to have the best name ever,” he whispered, before his fingers are moving the fabric of your pajamas shirt away from your stomach. You groaned at his actions, shutting your eyes as to not see the state of your body. Michael kissed the spot just above your navel. “Right bean, you don’t want a boring name like Michael do you?”
“For the last time your name is not boring,” you said, pulling the fabric of your shirt back over your bump. “And she will love her name no matter what we name her.”
Michael couldn’t help but smile at you. His hand stayed protectively at your stomach while his lips found yours. A wordless exchange that made you remember why you put up with him for all these years and years to come.
You tried to soak up the quiet moment, knowing these moments would be few and far between in a few short weeks. But the moment was ruined when you felt an unfamiliar wetness pooling in between your legs.
“I think my water just broke,” you said, calmer than words called for.
“You’re kidding,” Michael asked, eyes growing wide as he pulls the blanket from you seeing the wet spot on the sheet for himself. “Oh my god.”
“I know,” you smiled, before kissing Michael once more. When you pulled apart the two of you jumped into action. Michael raced to grab your bag from the closet as you waddled your way into a new pair of sweatpants.
Thirteen hours later, Peyton Leia Clifford was born.
domestic!5sos blurb night with @complicashton, request/tag us in your writing!