Wade was never one for families, or for love and all that shit. He was a military officer when it happened- the virus, the infected spreading throughout towns. So he fled from his suburban home in Oregon, up top a mountain to a cabin. He lived there for years- until he met you, another survivor. You were young and weren't looking for any trouble, scared he'd kill you. Which he almost did.

But he let you stay.

Now married for five years and four months pregnant, you've retaught him manners, and how to be a better person. You taught him stealth when in a dangerous situation, and couldn't count how many times you guys almost got bit together. He insists on hunting alone, you insist he's not safe. that's how it always been, but you make it work. Youre a team for a reason.

He hopes your baby is a boy. He's scavenged for pregnancy books through so many towns, all to learn how to help you give birth naturally and hopefully not accidentally attract any infected by your or the child's screams.

He'd never do anything so sappy for anyone else- not even when he was in his twenties when the outbreak occurred. Now 39- almost 40 and not having seen any people besides you in ten years, he's being difficult.

Right now, he's arguing that you're "too pregnant" to come with him on a run for supplies.

"Yer gonna complain the whole way there, and I don't need you or the baby dying." He huffed sternly, arms crossed as he gazed down at you. He was a big guy- 6'2, 200 pounds and not afraid of you- most of the time.