AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this a while ago, and since I haven't had time to write fanfic lately, I thought I'd post this one for anyone who's waiting for updates.

DISCLAIMER: Joss owns Cordy and Doyle. I own the kiddo.

SUMMARY: Cordy and Doyle debate over baby names.

"Moragh?!" Cordelia shrieked, her eyes flashing.

Doyle smiled innocently back it her. "It's a fine name, Cordy," he said, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice.

"There is no way I'm naming any child of mine Moragh," Cordy said. "Can you say childhood trauma?" She rested her hand protectively on her large protruding belly. "Don't worry in there," she said, glancing up to glare at Doyle, "Mommy won't let that man give you an awful Irish name."

"Now, now, Cordy," Doyle said, his eyes flashing even as they sparkled with mischief.

"Mommy will find you a beautiful name that speaks of good breeding and fashion sense," Cordy continued. She paused for a moment and wickedly bit the inside of her lips. "Like Larissa," she said, knowing that Doyle would hate the sound of it.

Doyle scoffed. "What kind of name is that?" he sputtered. "It sounds like a sneeze," he wiggled his eyebrows at Cordy and gave her a look, "or worse," he continued. He paused. "And who says the darling child will be a girl, huh?" He bent down to talk to Cordelia's stomach. "Could just be there's a fine lad in there." He pressed a firm kiss to Cordelia's stomach, and her eyes softened.

Deliberately and with a smile on her face, Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm pregnant," she said, playing her trump card, "and I say it's a girl. Trust me," she put her hand on her chest, her eyes serious. "Veronica and I are very close."

"Veronica?" Doyle shrieked. He held up both hands. "I've known some fine Veronica's in my day," he said, letting the unspoken 'if you know what I mean' hang in the air, "and no daughter of mine is going to be a Veronica."

"Vanessa?" Cordelia suggested.

Doyle looked at her. "There was a Vanessa in Vegas, I believeā€¦"

"No Vanessa," Cordelia said flatly. She put her hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. "Ommmmmmmmmm," she said.

"What are you doing now?" Doyle asked, rolling his eyes, but loving every minute of it.

"I'm channeling the name," Cordy said. She shrugged. "It's worth a try, and, trust me, little Vanessa Veronica Larissa Moragh will be grateful for it."

Doyle grinned like a madman and placed his hand on Cordelia's stomach. "Ommmmmmmm," he said, mock seriously.

Suddenly, the baby kick, and Cordelia and Doyle both jumped.

"Tessa," they said at once.

Cordy stared down at her stomach. "Hello in there," she called tentatively. "Can you hear me? Can you hear Mommy, baby?"

Doyle stared proudly at Cordelia's belly. "There's Daddy's little seer," he said.

Cordy raised an eyebrow, and, on impulse, Doyle leaned in and pressed a firm kiss to her face.

"My love," he said, the words rolling quickly and playfully off his tongue, "did I ever tell you that you're beautiful when you're pregnant?"

He leaned in to kiss her, and for a moment, the two were caught up in each other.

Ahem. They heard what sounded like a tiny little throat clearing sound.

At the same moment, they both stared down at her stomach, eyes wide.

For a moment, there was silence.

"Was that what I'm thinking it was?" Doyle asked.

Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest. "Well obviously," she said, "my baby is a genius."

"Your baby, is that it now, Queenie?" Doyle asked. He kissed her again and then turned his attention to her stomach. "Who's Daddy's little Telepath?" he asked.