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"I swear to god," Cornelia starts, sitting down at the picnic table across from a startled Dan. It's late June and the Florida sun is beating down, and there are cousins and aunts and uncles and partners scattered around drinking and laughing and telling stories.
Dan looks up from his phone, his expression softening when he sees it's just her.
"I swear to god if one more person asks me about having kids I think I might just lose my mind."
Dan grins. "Are you sure? Are you suuure they aren't persuading you? That uterus might shrivel up one of these days. You know, at a certain age, a woman's life really is only worthwhile with a child." Dan says.
"Consider this me spitting at you."
"Woah, spicy today," Dan notes, tiping a bag of chips so they spill on to a napkin. "Should I back off?"
Cornelia sighs. "No. I'm sorry, love."
"They've really got you wound up, huh?" Dan points out.
"So it seems."
"What about all those little cousins running around,” Dan follows the frantic path of a few kids ranging somewhere between three and ten as they rush past the table. He smiles after them. “They aren't making you feel all those gooey maternal feelings?"
"Not at the moment, no."
"They're just white suburban people, they don't have anything to do with their 30's other than have kids because that's what all their friends are doing, you're fine."
Cornelia smiles good naturedly. "I just wish they'd stop asking me about it. If at some point we decide we want kids I'll be sure to let everyone know as soon as possible."
"I'm sure that's really annoying," Dan nods sympathetically.
“The first few times I didn’t mind all that much, but now it’s all the time and I’m starting to dread starting conversations,” she says, almost laughing.
Dan peels at the corner of the crisp bag, creating a small tear before slowly pulling it apart.
“It’s really that constant?” he asks.
Cornelia frowns. "What? Do you mean they aren't bugging you?"
Dan pauses, averting his eyes before momentarily turning his head so he has a direct line of sight to where Phil’s stood with Martyn and a few pasty cousins.
"Not so much, no."
Cornelia’s head ducks, reflexively clicking the lock on her phone and glancing at the time before shaking her head dismissively. "That doesn't make any sense, you're a sure deal."
"Kath's mentioned it a few times," Dan offers, before shrugging.
"Well you're twenty-eight," Cornelia offers.
"Yeah," Dan pauses. "Phil's not, though."
"That's odd, then."
"I mean," Dan says. "It's not."
Cornelia looks at him, tilting her head.
"It's...a different conversation once you involve me and Phil."
"So? Nobody cares."
Dan raises his eyebrows.
"They don't."
She can barely hear Dan mutter something that sounds vaguely like, "Not anymore," before speaking up.
"It's not that anyone cares," he says."It's that the conversation gets derailed for twenty minutes and instead of them getting to talk about how rewarding changing diapers is to validate how miserable they really are on the inside, they have to pretend to ask questions about whether or not we want to adopt, as if we'd even consider another option, and if we've looked into anything and literally nobody wants to be there for the whole conversation." Dan says, straightforward. He exhales. "Hence nobody coming after us."
"Oh." Cornelia says. "That's...upsetting."
"Suppose it could be bad the other way too." Dan picks his feet up and swings around so they’re resting on the bench in front of him, shoulders facing his knees.
"Has Phil mentioned anything to you about it?" she asks.
"Not to me, no." Dan reaches for another crisp.
"He and Martyn both can be a bit blind when it comes to family."
Dan snorts. "I'd say I'd agree with you if Phil hadn't ranted to me for 'bout forty minutes at Claire's wedding."
"Yeah well, that side of the family’s a mess," Cornelia says. "Pretty sure she only married him because she wanted kids and a picket fence and all that before she turned forty."
"God," Dan scoffs. It's quiet for a minute before he says, "There's this assumption, not just online but in you know, our smaller, private world, that there are things that are Good and things that are Bad."
Cornelia takes the hint. "What about your family, then?"
"My grandma won't shut up about me having kids," Dan says. "My mum’s with her until she remembers she still has one of her own not totally out of the house yet," he continues. "What my mum really wants right now is for us to get a dog-"
"Her and the rest of the world," Cornelia interjects.
Dan snorts, continuing where he left off. "She really wants us to get a dog, but every time she mentions it she talks about how it's great practice for a baby. Mentioned it last time she came over for dinner and I thought she'd put Phil into anaphylactic shock." He pauses. "It worked though, he put an application in to a standard poodle breeder the next day."
"Fancy."
"Hypoallergenic." Dan counters.
"Suppose bending down six-foot-something every time you wanna pet your dog is a bit of a hassle." Cornelia muses.
"They're also wicked smart, and playful, loving. Good family dogs," he adds.
There it was again.
"How about your dad though? Is he pushing for a grandkid?" she asks.
Dan fidgets, unlocking his phone before locking it again.
"He doesn't ask about it," Dan says, before catching Cornelia's sympathetic face. "It's not like, a gay thing for him, it's just, you know, we don't talk about important stuff at all really."
Phil collapses down on the bench with a plate next to Dan, unaware and yet completely saving Cornelia from responding. "I heard talk of dogs, thought it might be an excellent time to join."
"Are those hot dogs? Are you really going to be eating little tiny dog children while talking about your future puppy?" Cornelia teases, a smile playing on her lips.
"It's ok, they're beagles. We're getting a poodle," Phil says, grinning before taking a bite.
"I already told her," Dan says.
"Bit soon yeah? Thought you said the house wouldn't be done until late August."
"We're going for the October litter," Phil says, pulling out his phone and opening up his camera roll. "This is the mum and dad," he says, swiping through photos. "These are some of the puppies from their last litter."
"I wanted to adopt all of them." Dan says, seriously.
"I thought maybe that wasn't the best idea," Phil says, putting away his phone. "Considering we don't have anywhere to put them."
"End of the five-year plan? Retire and breed poodles?" Dan offers.
Cornelia sighs. "I can't believe we're all old now."
"Imagine how Phil feels walking into the chiropractor's office for the second time last month," Dan says offhand.
"Hey, shut up, my office chair isn't as good as yours!"
"But your gaming one’s much better than mine," Dan points out. "Nice try, though."
"Well then can I buy a new one?"
"You can do whatever the hell you want with your money," Dan says, a hint of amusement playing in his voice at what must be a familiar conversation.
Phil's voice goes quiet and a little higher, as it does. "No, I mean with the account for the gaming channel."
"Maybe hold out until the move, yeah?" Cornelia says.
"A much better idea. We don't even know what we're keeping yet," Dan agrees, raising his hands as he says it.
Phil shakes his head in mock-defeat before turning the subject to whatever gossip had been shared with him and Martyn a few minutes prior, only to have Martyn join them halfway through and start to tell it alongside Phil. The conversation picks up quickly and dissolves into laughter, as it so usually does between the four of them and, slowly, the warmth radiates from their picnic table instead of from simply just the summer air.