A/N: Okay, I KNOW I'm not the only one who has ever wondered who in their right mind would name their child after a drink. Well, I've got the background for you! And is seriously a borderline crackfic, but I could care less! Enjoy everyone!

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT; that's Jonathon Larson's (May be rest in peace) gig. I don't even own Collins' parents. I'm just putting names to titles and since everyone has a mom and dad…no, I don't own anything…Except maybe Suzan's OBGYN.

My Baby the Cocktail

A shriek ripped through the air and usually a cry that loud would mean someone was being murdered. Of course, this knowledge usually would send people either running towards the source to help or away in fear. But this was the maternity ward at Bellevue Hospital in New York City and a baby was being birthed. No one, except the wincing husband in the hallway, paid any attention to Suzan Collins' shrieks of pain as she experienced increasingly painful contractions.


Clayton Collins winced and stood, leaving the uncomfortable plastic seat and slowly making his way into the room, where two nurses were waiting with a smock and gloves. One informed him that his wife was, "Fully dilated and should be able to start pushing soon" and he thanked God for that, only being able to think this would all soon be over.

After two more weeks of pregnancy than expected Suzan's water had finally broken at two o'clock the previous afternoon. It was now four o'clock in the morning. Suzan had been in labor for a whole, excruciating fourteen hours. Clayton just prayed it would be downhill from there.

He joined his wife's side as two doctors gathered at the foot of her bed. Her feet were in two stirrups hanging on either side of the bed and her knees were bent almost to her chest, spread an indecent distance apart. She was letting out animalistic growling noises and as he approached, Suzan finally just moaned, "Would someone get this kid outta me?!"

"It's all gonna be okay, Suzie," murmured the shaking soon-to-be father, gripping his wife's hand tightly.

She looked up at him, tears of pain and fury in her eyes and cried, "Oh, God Clay! It hurts!"

"I know, I know," he whispered, allowing her to squeeze his hand tight enough to break it.

"And this is all your fault too!" she whimpered, leaning her head against his arm and letting his sweater soak up the sweat from her forehead.

"I know," he replied, thinking it better to just agree with her at a time like this. "But in a few minutes, you're gonna forget all that because you're gonna have a beautiful baby in your arms."

"Our little Jessica," she sighed. She was convinced they were going to have a girl, and he didn't have the heart to argue with her on that point at the moment. They'd wanted to be surprised by the sex of the baby; but that didn't keep Suzan from fantasizing.

"Okay, Suzan," Doctor Mallory, Suzan's trusted Gynecologist, spoke up from behind the sheet they had covering her legs for decency purposes. "Start pushing. I'll count to five, and you push for another ten seconds, then you rest for five, got it?"

Suzan nodded as she readies herself and Doctor Mallory began, "One…Two…Three…Four…Five."

Going at it with all her vigor, Suzan's face screwed up and she bent her body upwards so her head was nearly between her knees. She cried out after only two seconds but kepy at it, squeezing Clayton's hand even tighter. Seven seconds later she collapsed back against the bed and Doctor Mallory cried out victoriously. "I see the head, Suzan! Here she comes! One more, sweetheart, go!"

Suzan looked about to cry as she pushed again, sobbing out that she couldn't do it anymore but trying anyway.

"Oh, oh, oh…And there it is! You did it, hun!"

Another cry pierced the air and Suzan burst into all-out tears, sobbing and flinging herself back onto the pillows, crying, "Oh, my baby! Oh, Clay! Is she beautiful?!"

"Prettiest thing I've ever seen," Clayton whispered, watching as they took his child to a table and cleared her lungs, only succeeding in making her cry louder. "Oh, baby! She's got a pair of lungs on her, too!"

Doctor Mallory walked over and settled a blue bundle in her arms. But that wasn't correct, was it? That blanket was supposed to be pink, right? Powder pink with the prettiest baby girl that ever was nestled in its soft cotton depths?

"Congratulations," the wizened woman declared, smiling at her patient, "a healthy baby boy."

"Oh…" Suzan murmured, placing a finger in the blanket and smiling when a little hand wrapped strongly around her finger. She couldn't say she was disapointed; after all, he was healthy and he was hers and that was all that really mattered. It was just a shock and she happily murmured, "But he's still so cute, isn't he? Our baby." Wow; that felt good rolling off her tongue. "He'll be a looker when he grows up."

Clayton chuckled in agreement and squeezed his wife's hand. He was pretty sure at least one of his fingers was broken but he wasn't going to voice his complaint just then. It was bearable at the moment, if only from the adrenalin still rushing through him. "He has your cheeks, baby."

"Your eyes," Suzan replied.

"What's his name?" asked a young blonde nurse, smiling widely with a pen poised over a paper.

"Oh…uh…" being completely sure she was carrying a girl, Suzan had never prepared herself for this eventuality. She laid her head back and stared down at her newborn, as though looking for any signs of what he should be named from his movements. Finally, she just gave up on reading nonverbal queues from a five-minute old child, sighed, and grumbled, "Jesus, Clayton…I could sure go for a Tom Collins right about now," and Clayton laughed. She continued, it having just popped into her mind that they could honor Clayton's father and make their first child his namesake. "How about Bri –"

"Thomas it is," chirped the nurse, and wrote it down.

Suzan's eyes widened and she glanced at her husband, who looked down at her with a similar expression on his face.

"Middle name?" The nurse, whom Suzan realized must really have not been the most observant and attentive girl, inquired eagerly again.

"Brian…" mumbled Suzan and questioned, "Clay…did I just name our child after a drink…?"

"Yes, sweetheart, you did," Clayton sighed, looking down at their son with the chubby cheeks and the big bright eyes. "But…I guess he looks like a Tom…right?"

Suzan giggled, mostly at the ridiculousness of the situation, and nodded. "Mmm hmm." Looking down at her newly named newborn, she inquired, "What do you think, Tommy?"

Tom, in response, rolled towards his mother's chest and snuggled in, drooling on her breast.

"Yeah, I thought so too…Oh, my baby the cocktail," Suzan laughed, and gently kissed her son's tiny forehead, murmuring to him, "Tom Collins. Thomas Brian Collins. I like it."

Someone once said, "When you first look upon, two visions flash before your eyes. One of your child, standing at a podium and declaring, "I'd like to thank the committee for this Nobel Prize" and the other is of them standing behind the counter at McDonalds enquiring, "Want fries with that?""

All any parent can do it hope it's somewhere in-between, and their child will be happy. Though Suzan did not know how angry, how exasperated, and how sad Tom would make her in the next eighteen years, she somehow knew, no matter who or what he decided to be, she would always support him, and he would find ways to make her proud.

End Story

A/N: I hope you liked it! The quote at the end there is from Robin Williams. I think that dude is just frickin' awesome. :D Seriously - go watch Night at the Museum. You'll see what I mean. hehe.

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