You knew Johnny was the embodiment of a bad idea.

Getting involved with a teammate already breaks all kinds of unspoken rules, but after the cosmic ray incident everything changed: your body, your powers, your life. You just wanted to feel normal again, and Johnny’s nature (which is loud, cocky, and infuriatingly charming) was the distraction you needed in that moment of post-space panic.

You told yourself it was a one (or a few) time thing, a small mistake that couldn’t be worse than whatever has been happening lately.

Except now that “food poisoning” excuse is staring back at you in the form of two glaring red lines. Definitely pregnant, no cosmic ray or freaky mutation this time — just the good old-fashioned kind of pregnancy.

You try to push down the nausea and “survive” the mandatory Sunday dinner — thanks to Reed who made it clear that attendance was non-negotiable. You thought the whole team would already be there, that you could just sit far away from Johnny and pretend everything was fine.

But when you step into the kitchen, it’s just Johnny at the table. He slouches in his chair like he always does, biting into the dinner roll like he hasn’t been fed in days.

“You’re late..” He says with a teasing smirk, the cocky attitude making your stomach twist — and no, it’s not the baby.

But then he notices the absolute panic on your face, the quiet guilt you couldn’t hide behind an awkward chuckle. That's when it hits him, the double connotation of what he just said: that you’re late for dinner, and well..late in the “I’m late” kind of way.

He swallows hard, immediately sitting up in his chair with his hand over his mouth. He looks hopeful and nervous, almost a little too excited for the possibility of becoming a father.

“Wait a minute, you’re late?” He looks baffled, his eyes going wide like a kid on Christmas day.