Summary: Dave and Lane try to name the baby.

Disclaimer: Not mine! Don't sue!

A/N: This fic takes place in the ALDI-verse...

Name the Baby

"John."

"As in...?"

"Lennon."

"Okay, good, but..."

"But?"

"But it also can be related to John Fogarty or... John Cougar Mellancamp."

Both Dave and Lane shuddered.

At that moment, something kicked at Lane from inside her protruding belly. She jumped a little and patted her stomach. "So... not John."

Dave smirked. "David."

Lane gave him an odd look. "Your name is David."

"It is."

"You want to name him after yourself."

"No!" Dave protested. "After Bowie."

"As much as I love Bowie..." Lane bit her lip. "No."

"No?"

"You want our son to grow up with a fetish for make-up?"

"Hey!" Dave cried. "My name is David, and I don't have a fetish for makeup!"

Lane snickered. "Says the man who wore lipstick on stage last month."

Dave grumbled, and then sighed. "Eddie?"

"As in Vedder? Nope."

"Trent?"

"As in Reznor? Forget it."

"Simon."

"As in Sid? Vicious? As much as I love The Sex Pistols, we're not naming out baby after a heroin addicted murderer."

"Peter."

"...Paul and Mary? No."

"Axel!"

Lane glared at him.

"...Or not..."

Lane groaned. "We're never going to find a good name."

"We will," Dave reassured her, getting up from his spot next to her on the couch. "We will! Where's that baby-naming book my mother got us...?" He began to search the small living room in their tiny apartment.

"How about Nicolas?" Lane asked.

"As in Leshay?"

"Good point.... How about Kurt?"

Dave glanced up at her from his spot kneeling at their bookshelf. "Honey, Cobain killed himself."

"Oh... Right. What about Keith?"

"...Moon OD'd on prescription pills in his sleep, and Richards is a heroin addict who will probably be the last organism left alive after the apocalypse."

Lane frowned.

"James," Dave nodded.

"Taylor? Hetfield?"

Dave wrinkled his nose. "Not James..."

Lane snickered. "How about Iggy Pop?"

Dave blinked. "Iggy Pop Rygalski?"

Lane giggled more and then covered her face with a throw pillow.

He sighed and gave up his search for the book. He got up and sat back on the couch, kissing her on the forehead. "How about Joseph?"

Lane blinked. "Joseph?"

Dave smiled.

"As in... Strummer?"

Dave nodded.

"As in...no, no one else matters," Lane rambled. "Joseph Strummer Rygalski." She smiled widely. "I love it."

Dave smiled again and wrapped an arm around her. "Joseph it is."

END