Work Text:
“Y’know,” Steve said, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts, “when I was shopping with Robin yesterday, something caught my eye.”
You looked up at him. “Oh yeah? What was it?”
“A ring,” he replied, brushing his thumb over your left ring finger. “I couldn’t help but imagine it here.”
Your heart raced at the implication. This should have been a sweet moment — the first real conversation where the man you loved expressed his intentions to marry you. Instead, it felt like a nightmare. You had been meaning to bring up what you overheard, but it never seemed like the right time. Now, you realized you had no choice.
"I'm sorry” he said, his brow furrowing with concern as he noticed the look of panic on your face. "Was that too much?"
“No,” you whispered, as the nausea rose within you. “Not at all. Truly, there's nothing more I want than to be your wife."
“That’s all I want too, pretty girl. So sure of it, almost bought the ring.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. You felt him smile into the kiss, and you wanted to revel in the moment, kiss him back with the same ferocity but your guilt was eating you from the inside.
Pulling away, you saw Steve lean in again, only to pause as his eyes flickered open taking in the sight of you. “Aww honey, you're crying?" He chuckled softly, moving his hand to caress your cheek.
Fuck. He'd mistaken them for tears of joy, rather than anguish they were born from — the words you'd struggled to voice.
You took his wrist, gently removing his hand from your face as you repositioned yourself to sit up in bed. Your fingers gripping the comforter for some sense of control.
“Hey, what's wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“I need to talk to you about something important.”
“Okay.” He sat up now, confusion washing over him as his eyes searched yours for any indication of what you were about to say. You could almost see him rifling through possible scenarios in his mind.
“I’ve been selfish,” you admitted, tears stinging your eyes. “I thought there was time. We've only been together for two years, I thought things could change. I'd feel different-”
“Hey, slow down. I need you to take a deep breath."
He was right. You were nearly hyperventilating, words jumbling together. You shook your head, trying to calm yourself, but the pit in your stomach taunted you. You couldn't help but think this was beginning of the end.
“A few weeks ago, that night Robin, Vickie and I were over, when I passed out on the couch during the movie. I kept going in and out of sleep when you were all chatting, and I overheard you talking about your dream life. Something like six kids, summer trips in a Winnebago across the countryside. Right?”
Steve looked perplexed, as if trying to connect the dots. “Yeah, that’s a dream I have, but it’s a long way off. Did that scare you? There are a lot of steps still-"
“Steve, it didn’t scare me. It’s just… I don’t,” your voice quivered, the trail of hot tears now streaming down your cheeks. “I’ve been meaning to bring it up, but I didn’t want to ruin everything. I thought if anyone could change my mind, it would be you. But-”
“About what?" He cut you off. "Honey, what are you talking about?”
“I don’t think I want kids, Steve,” you blurted out.
His face fell, and his eyes widened. It looked as if all the air had been expelled from his lungs. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.
Your words began to tumble out of your mouth faster than you could think them through. "We’ve never really talked about it. If I’d known how much you wanted kids, I wouldn’t have waited so long to tell you." You paused, your heart pounding. “Hearing you talk about a big family has pained me for weeks. I know, without a doubt, you’d be an amazing father. I just... I don’t think it will be to my children.”
“But you’d be a great mom,” he said, desperation clear in his voice. You weren't sure if he was trying to convince you or if it was just a fact he believed.
“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to be... I've tried to will the desire into existence, but I just don’t have it.”
Steve’s eyes glistened as he processed your words. You noticed his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek — a gesture he always made when he was getting emotional. You wanted to take everything back, wished you could turn back time and not say a fucking word. But he deserved to know, even if it meant you'd lose him.
The silence was deafening — the only sound in your ears was the thump of your heart, racing so rapidly you thought it might burst through your chest. A few minutes passed, but it felt like hours. You weren’t sure how much more of the quiet you could take.
"Say something, please," you urged.
Steve focused his eyes back on you. "Sorry, I never imagined us not having kids together, y'know? So I'm... processing."
"I'm so sorry, Steve. One day it may change, but I'm not hopeful." A sob caught in your throat. "And it's not fair to either of us to prolong the inevitable on the hope that I’ll change my mind.”
"W-wait, what? Are you saying you want to end this?” He ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh escaping him. He shrugged his shoulders, raising a brow as he added, "I'm confused how this conversation went from talking about marriage to breaking up?"
“Isn’t that where this is headed?"
“That's what you think?"
"Isn't that our only option, Steve? Kids are something you want out of life, and I’m fairly certain I don’t—how can there be a future for us?”
"We both want each other! We’ll figure the rest out eventually.”
“And when ‘eventually’ comes, and I still feel the same, what then? When years from now you realize something is missing in your life, and I'm the reason for it—you'll resent me."
“No, I won't. How can you say that?” He leaned in closer. “Maybe it won't be exactly what I pictured, but this doesn't change anything for me."
“You say that now, but you don't know how you'll feel down the line!" You raised your hands, in an effort to emphasize your point.
“If I don't know how I'll feel, how can you be so certain I'll resent you then?"
“I could hear it in your voice, Steve. You sounded so happy describing that life. A life I can't guarantee. So it doesn’t matter how much I want this or how much I love you. You deserve someone who you can share those dreams with!"
Steve moved his hands to cradle your face, hazel orbs piercing yours. "Oh honey... don't you realize, in every scenario of my dream life, you’re there. Fuck... you're the most important part.”
You swallowed thickly, your heart fluttering at the sentiment, tears still trickling down your cheeks. You wanted to accept what he was saying, but fear gripped you. The thought of losing him, of him one day loathing you, was unbearable to fathom. "What if you change your mind?"
"Never, my love." He gently brushed away your tears with his thumbs, shaking his head softly. "Listen, we can talk about this as long as we need to. Come back to it as much as you'd like. But please hear me when I say, if kids aren’t in your future, they’re not in mine. You're my future — you always have been.”
"Baby, you know that dreams, they're for those who sleep / Life, it's for us to keep / And if I chose the one I'd like to help me through / I'd like to make it with you... I really think that we could make it, girl."
Despite your affinity for lazy Sundays in bed, this particular morning found you in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while laughter echoed from the dining room.
"I hope you boys are ready to eat!" you called as you plated the pancakes.
"You hungry, bud?" You heard Steve ask.
"Mhmm!"
"Alright, then let's put the crayons away."
After a few minutes, Steve waltzed into the kitchen, grabbing the plate of pancakes from you. "Smells amazing, baby." He pressed a kiss to your cheek before heading back to the dining room.
A few minutes later, you joined Steve and the doe eyed little boy at the table, enjoying breakfast together.
As you finished up, Steve was prompting a burst of giggles from the child, as he made Mrs. Butterworth talk.
"You're so silly, Uncle Steve!"
"He really is, isn't he, Jamie?" you said, a smile tugging at your lips at the sight.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
"I think Mom's here!" Steve said, standing up to answer the door.
As Chrissy stepped inside, Steve pulled her into a hug. "Oh my, it smells incredible in here!”
“Had to feed my handsome little man,” you replied, nodding toward Jamie, who was bouncing eagerly in his seat.
Chrissy approached the table, ruffling Jamie’s hair. “Did you have a fun at your sleepover?”
“Yeah!”
“Did you thank your aunt and uncle?” she prompted.
“Sank you!” he beamed.
"Seriously, you guys, Eddie and I owe you one."
"Anytime," you said, handing her the Tupperware you'd prepared in the kitchen. "I packed some breakfast for you and Eddie too."
"You’re the absolute best," she replied, pulling you into a warm hug as Jamie and Steve exchanged their goodbyes.
Jamie then came barreling towards you, as you knelt down for a hug. "See you, bud!"
"Ready to go see Daddy?" Chrissy said as she ushered Jamie toward the door. "Thank you both so much."
"You'll always have a sitter with us, never hesitate to ask," Steve said.
"Love you both!" Chrissy called back, you and Steve echoing her words, before closing the door behind them.
As you turned toward Steve, he had a wide grin on his face. "Well, that was... a lot." He laughed.
"A lot of fun, though," you added.
"Sure was." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "Bit of an odd start, but I think we can still manage a lazy Sunday. What'dya say?"
"Always."
Steve placed a kiss on your forehead, lacing his hand with yours, as you followed him through the hall of your shared home. The story of your love adorned the walls — from your first date to your wedding photos to your trips across the countryside. Today, you paid extra attention to them all, playing back all the memories in your mind.
When you reached your room, the soft morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a glow on your sheets. Steve bounced onto the bed, and as you stood at the edge, laughing, he pulled you down beside him, peppering your face with kisses and murmurs of "I love you."
As you nuzzled into the warmth of his chest, you noted the rhythm of his heartbeat. It calmed you, as his fingertips danced softly across your skin. His touch was intricate and delicate while he hummed a soft tune. You lay there, basking in the bliss of it all. After a few moments, you couldn’t help but ask, "Steve, what are ya thinkin' about?"
"That I couldn't have dreamt up a better life than this," he said, matter of factly.
And honestly, you couldn't agree more