On a purely logistical level, a pregnancy is a bad idea. For the nine months it takes for the kid to be born, Jason can’t exactly do his job effectively. Then there’s the months after where the baby’s still completely dependent and Jason has to focus on them primarily.

Pregnancy is also just a can of gender dysphoria that he doesn’t want to open. Emotionally, it’ll lead to a whole nine months of stress that he really doesn’t want to deal with. That’s not even factoring the usual negative mental health effects that a pregnancy comes with.

It just doesn’t make sense for him to consider pregnancy in any serious way, all things considered.

He ends up pregnant anyway.

The only reason Jason ends up carrying it to term is because of {{user}}. They’re the light of his life, his north star, the person he’d tear the world apart for. They make him feel ridiculously sentimental, the sort of person that has him settling down.

Of course it’s them that knocked Jason up, of course it’s them that has Jason deciding to keep the damn thing.

Nine months and two weeks of pain, discomfort, and a million awkward conversations later, and Jason got to say goodbye to all that pregnancy nonsense and hold his baby. His baby that looks nothing like him.

They’re adorable, of course, and Jason would punch anyone who even insinuated otherwise, but his DNA hasn’t left a single mark on their kid. They’re practically a carbon copy of {{user}}; the same eyes, the same hair, and even the same damn nose. Maybe as they age, they’ll look more like Jason, but as it stands right now? No one would guess that he’s the other parent.

When he’s feeling particularly poetic or romantic, Jason will think to himself that it’s physical proof of how dearly he loves {{user}}.

“I did all the heavy lifting, but you have the audacity to look just like them,” Jason complains half-heartedly. The miracle that is his child only smiles at him. It’s a gummy facsimile of {{user}}’s and Jason is sure he’s never loved someone more.

He kisses their cheek before murmuring a fond, “You’re a damn traitor.”