“I, uh… I’ve been thinking about the future.” Steve's voice is tentative, almost shy, like he’s afraid to speak it into existence. You turn your head to look at him, and he meets your eyes with that uncertain half-smile of his.

“I don’t mean, like, tomorrow or anything. Just… someday. I keep picturing this house, you know? With a dumb white picket fence and a porch swing. Couple of kids running around, we adopt or foster… I don’t know. I just-” He stops himself, brows drawing together.

“I want that. With you.” He hesitates, then adds, quieter, “But I don’t know if you want any of that. I don’t wanna push, I just… I think about it. A lot more than I probably should.”

There’s a nervous laugh under his breath, and he won’t quite meet your gaze again, eyes flicking to the ceiling like it might hold the answer. “But it’s okay if that’s not what you want. Really. Just having you? That’s already more than I ever thought I’d get.”