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“We’ve gotta name her,” Beckett says.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to sound so miserable about it.”
“I’m not miserable about it.” Brad looks actually horrified at the suggestion, which makes Beckett smile. “Of course I want to name her. She’s our daughter.”
Beckett still isn’t used to the rush of warmth that floods her when he says that. When anyone says it. When she even so much thinks about the fact that she has a kid. She’s terrified out of her mind and has no idea how she’s supposed to go about being a mom, but she’s so fucking excited at the same time. Every time she looks at her daughter's chubby little cheeks and mess of purple hair, she thinks she could take on the whole world.
“Beckett, did I lose you?”
Beckett blinks and realizes Brad has crossed the room to her, leaving their daughter in her bassinet. He’s staring at her with a half-grin, concern bright in his eyes.
“We’ve gotta give her a kickass name,” Beckett declares, frowning when Brad gives her an exaggerated eye roll.
He steps closer and plants his hands on her waist. “Obviously,” he says. “She’s got the coolest mom on the planet, so she’s gotta have the coolest name.”
Beckett ducks her head with a blush. Things are still a little rocky, a week out from giving birth. A week out from seeing Brad in person for the first time since their one-night stand together. Sometimes Beckett looks at Brad and still kind of wants to launch him out of an airlock. But then she thinks about him by her side as she fucking gave birth, how he let her crush his hand, and how he sat with her afterwards…it makes the anger a little easier to let go of.
“Did Riker give you lessons or something?”
Brad’s brow furrows. “What?”
“On being a smooth motherfucker,” Beckett clarifies. “You did not have this much game before you left.”
“Oh, I didn’t?” Brad retorts. “I had enough game to land you.”
Beckett lets out a faux scandalized gasp and slaps him lightly against the chest. “Using my mistakes against me, that’s dirty pool.”
Brad smiles softly at her. “I wouldn’t call it a mistake.”
This time it’s Beckett’s turn to roll her eyes. “Of course it wasn’t. What will be a mistake is not naming our daughter. If we wait any longer, Tendi might just forcibly choose a name all on her own. And I love Tendi, but I don’t actually want her to name our daughter. She’s already godmom.”
Brad nods. “I had a couple more ideas.”
“Okay, let’s hear ‘em.” Beckett lets out a sigh.
They’ve been trying to pick out a name since the morning after their daughter was born. The day of was too hectic to even consider it. Between Brad showing up, their daughter arriving, and starting to untangle all their complicated feelings, it had been easier to admire their daughter than name her. But now it’s been a week, and their kid still doesn’t have a name, which means they haven’t been able to do a birth announcement, and their friends and family are starting to breathe down their necks.
Brad lets a hand fall from Beckett’s hip to dig around in the pocket of his casual pants. He pulls out a list, on honest to god paper. “Eris.”
Beckett frowns. “Really, goddess of chaos?”
“She’s your daughter.”
Okay, that gets her to laugh. “That feels like tempting fate.”
“So you’re probably gonna say no to Pandora, then, too.”
Beckett laughs again. “Yeah, hard pass on that. They might suit her too well. The last thing we need to do is literally ask for trouble.”
“Huh, never thought I’d hear you say that. Maybe I should be recording this for posterity.” He starts to pull away like he might grab his PADD or something but Beckett winds her arms around him to keep him close. “Okay, fine. I’m definitely going to tell your mom about this, though.”
“Whatever.” Beckett sinks into the hug. Hugging Brad is more comforting than she thought anything could ever be. In her defense, she went through nine months of pregnancy without him near, missing him every single day. Sure, she had her friends and her mom and the support of the whole ship, but that’s not the same. Besides, Brad doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps one arm curled around her back, his hand rubbing soothingly along her spine, as he continues to read from his list.
“Galatea.”
Beckett hums. “Pretty,” she starts, “not super sure about naming our daughter something to the effect of being milky-white. I like being contrary, but…”
Brad grimaces. “Okay, fair.”
“Sucks though, cuz that’s gorgeous.”
“Well, I’ve got plenty left on this list.” He keeps reading, only pausing when Beckett interjects. None of them stand out or fit quite right, something they know without really discussing it. They’re on the same wavelength in this, which comforts Beckett even more. She’s almost lulled into sleep, her face tucked against Brad’s neck, when he reads a name that makes her frown.
“Titania, really?” Beckett leans back and gives Brad an unimpressed look. “She’s our daughter, not a new flagship.”
Brad sticks his tongue out. “It’s more ideas than you’ve had!”
“Need I remind you that I shoved her out of my—?”
Brad kisses her complaint from her lips and she leans into it, even though she’s still going to milk that complaint for all she can. Squeezing out a kid is hard fucking work, and as much as she appreciates Brad’s support, she still got the raw end of the deal. She deserves to wring the most sympathy out of it that she can. Sometimes that sympathy is just getting Brad to kiss her, which he always seems eager to do.
Against her lips, he admits, “Okay, I had one other idea, but I think you’ll hate it.”
“Well, it can’t be worse than Titania. Or naming our daughter milky-white , so…go for it.”
Brad hesitates. Beckett pinches his sides. He sighs and says, “Caroline.”
Beckett freezes. She leans back so that she can look Brad properly in the face. “Caroline,” she echoes.
Brad looks away, embarrassment clear on his face. “I know, I know, but it’s not a bad name. And your mom…she’s an amazing woman. And it’s not identical. So it’s not totally weird.”
“It’s kind of weird.”
“Yeah, kind of weird. Not totally weird.”
“Is this some advanced form of ass-kissing?” Beckett can’t help but ask. “I know my mom is pissed at you for ditching me, but she’ll get over it eventually. I didn’t even tell you I was pregnant, it’s not like you were trying to be an absentee father. She’ll come around.”
Brad shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not ass-kissing. I just think it’s a nice name, and it’d be a nice way to pay homage to someone who means a lot to you.”
Despite the slight weirdness of naming her daughter after her mom, Beckett’s heart thuds fondly. She bites her bottom lip and thinks the suggestion over. A thought occurs to her.
“What about your mom?”
Brad startles like he’s been shocked by a livewire. “What?”
“What about your mom?” Beckett asks again. “You wrote those songs about her. She means a lot to you, right? What’s her name?” And oh, that makes Beckett feel a special kind of way. Mostly dysfunctional—she sleeps with a dude she’s known for like two years, has his baby, and doesn’t even know his mother’s name. A real class act, she is.
“Adria,” Brad says quietly. “Her name is Adria.”
“What the fuck, that’s awesome! That’s so pretty.”
Brad nods. “Yeah it is.”
Beckett waits for him to say something else, but he stays silent. He looks distinctly uncomfortable, the way he does when he’s trying to keep a secret. Beckett frowns.
“Dude, what is it?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Obviously it’s not nothing. We’re not going to name our daughter something if you don’t like it.” Beckett gentles her tone and brings a hand to Brad’s cheek, stroking her thumb just under his eye. “Talk to me, Boims.”
Brad lets out a shuddering sigh. “I, uh, don’t really talk to my mom.”
“What?”
“I haven’t spoken to her in a while.” Brad shifts from foot to foot and he still won’t meet Beckett’s gaze. “I…I don’t get along with her, really.”
“I feel like maybe we should sit down for this.” Beckett tugs at Brad slightly until he follows her the scant few steps to the nearby couch. She sits first and after a second of hesitation, he sits beside her. They can’t stay wrapped up in each other’s arms like this, but their knees are bumping and Beckett keeps a hand on Brad’s thigh. “Why don’t you get along with her?”
Brad exhales. “It’s a long story. Like, long. And…dysfunctional. Unhealthy.” His leg starts to bounce anxiously. “She blamed me for my dad leaving, and the only way I could make it up to her was to excel in Starfleet, but even that hasn’t been good enough for her. It’s never been good enough. Even after I transferred to the Titan, all she could ask was why I was only a junior grade lieutenant, and not something better.”
Beckett’s mouth has gone dry. “But those songs…”
“My therapist suggested them. My mom’s never even heard them.”
“Oh.” Beckett drops her gaze to the floor. “Fuck, Brad, I’m sorry.”
Brad shakes his head. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. I don’t go around telling people about it. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” She looks up, determined, and scoots closer on the couch as if that’ll make him believe her more. “It does matter, and it’s fucked up that she treated you like that. I’m sorry, babe. You didn’t deserve that.”
Brad smiles at her softly. “Thanks, Beckett.”
“Thank you for telling me,” she replies. “Adria is a dope name, but there’s no way we’re naming our kid after someone so fucking uncool.” It’s a trial to keep from being nastier. For as much as she teases Brad, and as much as she hated him while he was gone, she could never fathom being truly cruel to him. It’s so outside the realm of possibility, it’s hard to imagine his own mother doing it to him. It makes her heart ache.
“That’s the first time you’ve called me babe. Is that a thing?”
Beckett blinks. “Huh?”
“You called me babe. Is that a thing we do?” Brad’s grinning wider now, looking pleased. “Can I call you babe? Baby? Snookums?”
“Oh, fuck off,” Beckett says as she lightly shoves at his chest. “No, that’s not a thing.” Except she’s pretty sure it’s going to become a thing. God, they’re going to be disgusting. It’s going to be horrific, being a couple on a ship, with a kid no less. She’s so fucking excited. “We can use Caroline.”
Brad’s teasing dies on the tip of his tongue as he gapes at her. “Really?”
“As a middle name,” Beckett clarifies. “Having a Carol and a Caroline is too confusing, but as a middle name… I like that. Mom and dad will like it. And it will get you some brownie points with Captain Mom, even if you keep insisting that wasn’t the point.”
“It really wasn’t.”
“Uh huh,” Beckett drawls, “sure.”
Brad rolls his eyes affectionately. “So we still need a first name, then.”
“Why the fuck is this so hard? Also, why don’t the baby books talk about how hard this is? That feels like important information. Like, maybe if I knew it’d be this hard to name a kid, I wouldn’t have had a kid.”
Brad slides his arm around her shoulders and leans in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Nah, you still would’ve.”
“Well, yeah. Duh.” She leans against him. She stares across the room, to where their daughter is sleeping soundly. She’s bound to wake up soon, though, and Beckett would really like to have a name by the time she does. “Sure you don’t have anything else on that list?”
“Nothing, but we do have PADDs, and probably another ten minutes before she needs to be fed, or changed, or held, so. Race you?”
Beckett looks at Brad with a grin. “You’re so on.”
“This seems excessive,” Beckett says as she glances around the mess hall. There are decorations strewn everywhere, food and drinks scattered about, and almost too many people gathered in the confined space. It’s not everyone on the Cerritos, because that would be absurd, but it’s a lot of people. Plus her dad beamed in. It just seems like a lot, all to announce their baby girl’s name.
“Please,” Brad murmurs, his arm around Beckett’s waist, “you love this. It’s a party. For you.”
“For her,” Beckett says as she rocks their daughter gently in her arms. “But yeah, kinda for me.”
“People brought presents.” Brad looks mystified, which is fair because he missed the baby shower, obviously, so he hasn’t gotten to experience this kind of thing before. Beckett’s pretty sure this sort of thing isn’t normal. She’s pretty sure it’s only happening because her mom is the captain, but again: presents, food, drinks, attention. It’s not so bad, really.
“Okay, okay,” Carol hollers, her commanding voice forcing the entire mess hall into a hush. All eyes turn to her as she walks over to where Beckett and Brad stand. She takes a moment to narrow her eyes at Brad, but then she smiles at Beckett, then looks down at their daughter. “I am sure I’m not the only one who’s been waiting with bated breath to hear what this precious little girl’s name is.”
“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Beckett says, and titters of laughter float around the room. “It’s just a name!”
“Oh, please,” booms her dad’s voice as he grins at her. “Stop stalling.”
Beckett can’t help her own smile. She looks down at her daughter’s face, slack with sleep. Her fat cheeks, her purple hair thin and wispy, her little stubby baby hands curled against her chest. “You want to do it?” she asks Brad.
“You sure?”
“Just do it!” Tendi shrieks. Thankfully, their daughter doesn’t even stir. Beckett shoots her best friend a glare anyway, and Tendi looks appropriately scolded.
“Uh,” Brad starts. He clears his throat and continues louder, “We’d like to introduce you all to Ayla Caroline Mariner.”
There’s a loaded pause in the wake of the announcement, before a cheer goes up. Thankfully, most of the crowd seems content to cheer with their glasses of champagne and talk amongst themselves, and it’s only Tendi, Rutherford, and Beckett’s parents moving closer.
“That’s gorgeous,” Tendi gushes as she pushes her way to the front. She grips Beckett’s arms gently and smiles widely at her. “How’d you guys pick it?”
“Well, we both agreed on Caroline for the middle name, to pay homage to someone who means a lot to us both.” Brad says it in a slight rush, his cheeks going pink with embarrassment.
Beckett enjoys watching her mom go speechless. This is a lot more fun than when she dropped the pregnancy news on her, though there are still tears in her mom’s eyes.
“Oh,” her mom whispers. Beckett’s dad comes up and lays a hand on Carol’s shoulder, smiling.
“That’s lovely,” he says with an approving nod.
“I found Ayla in an old book I read when I was younger,” Beckett adds, “she’s a pretty kickass character. It means moonlight.” She glances down at her daughter again and draws a finger over her cheek. “It just seemed to fit her.”
“It does,” Rutherford agrees.
“And her last name…” Carol starts. She’s wiped the tears from her eyes but Beckett’s willing to bet it won’t be long before they return.
“It felt right,” Beckett and Brad say together before sharing a smile.
Beckett continues, “We’re not married, so hyphenating seemed kind of weird. And Brad’s not going anywhere, but Ayla Boimler didn’t quite flow as well.”
“It’s not an easy last name, I know.” Brad holds up a hand as though surrendering. “Mariner just made sense.”
Tendi ‘aw’s loudly and Rutherford nods approvingly. He declares, “You two are going to be disgustingly cute.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Beckett agrees. “You guys better prepare, it’s gonna be horrific.”
They talk for a little longer before Beckett asks Tendi to grab her some food, and Rutherford follows her. Beckett passes Ayla to Brad so she can hug her parents, long and lingering, before they return to mingling in the party. Beckett’s sure her mom will be back before long, because she loves to be around her granddaughter. Beckett can’t blame her; Ayla is cute as fuck.
Even so, Beckett lets out a sigh of relief once she and Brad are left mostly alone, able to stand back and watch the party go on. She leans against Brad’s shoulder and stares down at their daughter.
“You know, we could change it to Boimler if you wanted.”
Brad snorts. “No, you were right the first time. Ayla Boimler doesn’t work, like, at all. It’s fine.” Brad nudges Beckett slightly until she looks up at him instead. “Besides, I was thinking…”
Beckett narrows her eyes. “You were thinking what? Don’t tell me you want to start trying for another kid, because—?”
“God, Mariner, no!” Brad’s laughing and shaking his head emphatically. “No, I was thinking…if we get married, someday, in the future, down the line…”
“Spit it out, Boims.”
“I was thinking I could take your last name.”
Beckett’s breathing catches in her chest. “You…what?”
Brad shrugs. “It’s just a thought. Like I said, down the line. In the future. Someday.”
Beckett sniffles. She’s glad she’s not holding her daughter right now because it makes it easier to wipe her eyes before the tears can start flowing. “Yeah,” she says, voice warbling, “someday.”
Brad leans over and brushes a kiss to her forehead. “Bradward Mariner isn’t so bad.”
“Can I still call you Boims?”
Brad laughs softly. “You can call me whatever you want, Beckett.”
“That’s a dangerous privilege to give me.”
“Oh, I know,” Brad says, “but that’s what love is.”
“Oh my god.” Beckett leans back and punches him swiftly in the arm. “You totally got lessons from Riker! You’re too smooth, dude! I can’t handle it!”
“You’ll get used to it,” Brad says, before tugging Beckett into a proper kiss. “Maybe we can even convince him to give you some lessons.”
“Oh, that’s it. Give me my baby back. I’ve changed my mind.” But Beckett doesn’t even try reaching for Ayla—she just reaches for Brad to kiss him again.
“See?” Rutherford says. “Disgusting already.” He sounds fond.
“It’s only gonna get worse from here,” Beckett promises. “Like, so much worse.”
“I can’t wait,” Brad murmurs. Beckett doesn’t even hear her friends pretend gagging over the sound of her own delighted laughter.