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"Hey Cove?" You were laying on the couch, pampering Football (beloved chihuahua, first of her name) and not helping with the laundry.
"Hmmm?" Cove was folding towels and stacking them in piles according to size, not being helped.
You use the spider fingers move, it's wittle schnookum's favorite because she gets to slap fight your fingers. "Have you thought about kids?"
He doesn't make a noise exactly, but something definitely happens. You look over to see him in the middle of folding a dish towel, holding it aloft like a banner. His eyes are wide. "In—in general?? Or, ours?"
You huff a laugh and grin. "Ours, I suppose. As a hypothetical future."
He lets the towel drop into his lap, staring into the middle distance of your apartment wall. Your darling pookie has settled down in the hollow of your sternum, dozing lightly, a warm little weight.
"Have you thought about this already??"
"Cove. Dude." You sit up to look at him directly, cupping your hands around your precious princess to make sure she doesn't fall. "As soon as I knew I loved you and the initial freak out settled, I started thinking about it." You stare at him, keeping your gaze steady. "Even before I proposed to you. I knew I wanted to be by your side for the rest of forever, so I might as well start deciding what I thought about every possibility."
He'd teared up, nowhere near sad, just a pure spilling over of the emotions welling up in him. Football was huffing and headbutting your boob, which was her usual way of announcing that she was done with whatever situation was currently taking place. You set her down the ground, and after a shake to put herself in order, she trotted off to another room.
"Are you worried you'd fuck up somehow?" Your voice is low and even. You ask this question bluntly because you went through this exact crisis while figuring out your feelings on the subject.
"Basically, yeah. That’s a whole entire *person* that I'd be in charge of, at least partially." He runs his fingers through his hair. "And I am still kind of a mess sometimes."
You use your foot to flick an unfolded washcloth at him, and it lands on his leg in a gentle reproach. "Hey, Cove. Listen. I think you'd be great as a dad. You'd make sure the kid knows they're loved?"
"Yes." There wasn’t even a breath of hesitation, nor did his expression waver, like he'd been born with that answer in him.
You lighten your tone. "And you'd help me make sure the kid doesn't die, riiiiight?"
"Of course." He giggled a little this time, wiping at his eyes.
"That's the bare minimum, dude. I think we'd do fine. We have a bunch of people who can help us with the whole 'preparing them for the future' bits."
Cove nods, still pensive, but more visibly relaxed, thinking. "I assume you're thinking about. Uh, getting pregnant, and not adoption, right?"
You shrug. "Yeah, it seems the simplest."
"Okay." He inhaled slowly, and exhaled evenly, looking more steady. "...Would you be mmmom? Then?" He sounds hesitant. Cove has known for years you don't begrudge having been a girl, using some fem terms even these days, but he's always cautious about it. Though he doesn't even wait for an answer before continuing to mutter. "You could be dad I guess, but then I couldn't also be dad, that'd be confusing for both me and the kid. Could I be Papa??"
"Mom could work, but I gotta say I've always liked the idea of being 'Pops'. You could be 'Papa', or 'Daddy'?"
Your eyebrows climb into your hairline as he tears up again. you better remind him to hydrate after this conversation.
"Sorry! Sorry, I— I just. Had the thought of a tiny kid who looks just like you... looking up at me and calling me 'daddy' and-" He sniffed loudly, swallowing and knuckling his eyes. "Ugh, this is so dumb, I never grow out of this."
"Oh Cove." You join him on the floor, attaching yourself to his side and leaning in. "My sappy sweetheart. My extremely tall crybaby man."
He wraps his arms around you, a familiar angy kitty expression on his face. "Fuck you."
"Yes. That's the end goal here."
He scoffs, smiling down at you, clearly not actually mad. He stilled, eyebrows slightly scrunched. "So... we decided. How... do we start. Uh." A whole museum of emotions visibly crossed his face. "Trying?"
You hummed thoughtfully. "I figured we'd just keep up our usual pattern, just without condoms." A mischievous whim crosses your mind and you grin. "Orrrrrrr..." He immediately squinted at you in trepidatious suspicion. He was very familiar with this tone of your voice. "I could start ambushing you."
He choked on air, and you smiled. Cove's face turning completely red has gotten increasingly rarer over time, but sometimes, like now, you succeeded in bringing it out.
"Think about it, there's soooo many times we start fumbling around." You turn towards him, hand still on his arm, not breaking contact with his wide blue eyes. "And sometimes neither of us have supplies on hand. You get grumpy sometimes when we gotta stop in the middle." You kept moving slowly, your leg pinned over his now, trapping him. "What if we didn't have to?" You sorta loved this look on his face, excited fear, but not fear, especially not paired with the iron trembling grip of his hand across your back, pulling you closer.
You lean up, letting your lips brush his ear. "I could keep going for as long as I like."
Cove broke, squeaking as he grabbed your shoulders and put you at arm's distance. He was breathing heavily, face red, eyes practically sparking. He opened his mouth a couple times, before finally croaking out, "You talk a big game for someone who got wrecked last night."
You grin, feral and delighted. "Do it again, coward."
The angry raspberry he blew into your shoulder was, somehow, not very threatening. Your peals of laughter ring across the popcorn ceiling like hallowed arches, coaxing your husband into joining you. Everything was gonna be fine, whenever it started to actually happen.