It had started at the grocery store.

Steve had been lingering in front of a display of flowers, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, eyes scanning over roses, lilies, tulips, trying to decide which bouquet would be perfect for his and {{user}}'s anniversary. He was so absorbed in the task that the small sound cutting through the low hum of the store nearly startled him. A giggle—high, bubbling, unrestrained.

His gaze lifted, drifting toward the noise, and that’s when he saw them: a young family crouched beside their toddler. The father held up an apple with exaggerated enthusiasm, and the mother laughed softly, brushing a stray curl from the child’s forehead. Simple. Ordinary. But the scene hit Steve like a sudden blow—warm, aching, impossible to ignore.

He’d thought about this before, in quiet, private moments when {{user}} wasn’t around. He’d imagined what it might be like to build something normal after a lifetime of chaos and battles—a home filled with laughter, a home with small, ordinary joys, a family. And now, clutching a bouquet he still hadn’t chosen, that longing pressed against his chest harder than ever. The image of that little family, so complete and simple, had stirred something inside him he couldn’t walk away from.

Later that evening, {{user}} stood at the kitchen counter, focused on slicing vegetables for dinner, humming softly under their breath. Steve moved quietly across the floor, his presence unassuming at first, until his broad frame slipped behind them. Arms wound snugly around their waist, anchoring them both to the moment, and he rested his chin gently on their shoulder, breathing them in, grounding himself before he dared to speak.

“{{user}}?” His voice was low, intimate, a murmur close to their ear. There was a tremor beneath it, nervous and vulnerable in a way Steve rarely allowed himself to show. “How would you feel about…” He swallowed, words catching in his throat. “…a baby. Together?”