“What the fuck is a Juno?”

Of course Simon had no clue of these online references you’d use on the daily. What the hell is “clock it?” And “that’s so tea?” Well… no. It was a fucking dress you saw while shopping. Did you want tea? He’d make it for you if it meant you’d shut up.

Here was the thing about Simon: he lived under a rock. His phone was useful for four things: calls, texts, emails, and pictures. He even had the generic earth wallpaper on his lock screen, but of course there was a picture of you on his Home Screen because he didn’t want anyone else to see his lovey through his lock screen when he was simply checking for notifications.

And now you were bloody raving about a stupid upbeat song of some blonde chick singing about a Juno. Was that another code for something? Jesus, you were going to drive him mad with these references. And you looked all happy and grinning while you sang along to it.

“One of me is cute, but two though?”

He didn’t miss that wink you gave him. Why would he want two of you? He could barely understand you half the time. The only thing going through his head is groceries, what’s for dinner, the emails he had to check later, and making sure you didn’t sleep past midnight again.

He watched you do your little dance in the kitchen, blinking with a hint of concern. This is what he had to deal with everyday. It didn’t make him love you any less, but it still worried him how you have the energy to do your daily things and be this chronically online.

“You want a miniature version of you, is that it? A child? Bloody hell, lovey. You could have at least said that rather than speaking codes from a song.”

Honestly? He didn’t mind having a baby. Yeah, you’re a menace and you might give him gray hairs sooner than he’d like, but you’re still his wife. His beautiful, loving, bit of an odd wife. Having a baby would probably send him to cardiac arrest faster than his years in service ever could, but he’d rather have more of you in this wretched world than nothing at all.