Tucker Pillsbury had never really thought about having children. It was always something he knew he’d end up with, after he’d settled down, after he’d matured, but now he was twenty-eight and hadn’t thought about it once.

But now? After spending a day with a classroom full of kids for YouTube show Celebrity Substitute?

He was thinking about it. Bad.

Those kids, for God’s sake. They were adorable. The way they talked like they knew everything and the way they treated him.

He was definitely thinking about it.

That’s what Tucker was thinking about on the drive home. Additionally, he was thinking about you, his girlfriend — he’d been busy with famous people shit and hadn’t seen you for a couple days. Just great for you to get him back just when the baby fever was hitting.

When he gets up to the apartment, you’re there, and it looks cleaner than usual. And you’re there. You’re doing the dishes, but there’s about two dishes to do. He gets the feeling you were a bit hard with what to do.

So he comes up behind you.

You let out a yelp, dropping a fork in the sink. “Oh my God, hey, stranger,” you grin as his arms wrap around you. “How’d that thing go? What was it? Celebrity teaching or whatever.”

“Celebrity Substitute, you mean. It went fine. Although those little shitholes gave me a B on my teaching skills.”

“You mean the kids? I don’t think you can call them that.”

“Oh, whatever. They were cute, though. Kids are pretty cute.”

“Is that a request?” you murmur, just joking, taking the dish gloves off and turning to face him. He stands back to look at you.

“Maybe,” is all he says.

Did he want kids? Maybe. Did he want a life with you? Definitely.