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Family Talk

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The idea of having children never particularly appealed to All Might. At a young age, his villain career just dawning, he resolved to refrain from purposely procreating -- purposely, as he had some vices when it came to sex that could have easily resulted in accidental pregnancy. But a dash of self-control, held up mostly by partners on contraceptives, meant that previous couplings hadn’t resulted in any unwanted offspring.

That he knew of.

Granted, if he had found out he had fathered a child, he didn’t doubt he would have completely ignored their existence and refused to acknowledge any sort of lineage. He didn’t have the patience to raise something. Or be connected to something so… wholly.

A child did not fit into the lifestyle of the greatest villain in Japan. It was out of the realm of possibility. That unwavering mindset continued into the golden age of his reign, long after he had cemented himself as the best, and past the traditional point in his life where a biological impulse to reproduce would have started whispering in his ear. Kids just weren’t in the cards for All Might and he was more than comfortable with that.

It was a few weeks before Christmas when he sat down at his table one afternoon, boredly thumbing through a hero lifestyle magazine he had picked up during a sweets run at the nearby corner store. The cover had advertised a walkthrough of the sprawling, and architecturally charming, downtown Mustafu estate owned by a certain number one hero. Not that buildings or design held any interest to All Might -- instinctively he had grabbed onto the magazine as it was his business to know what the top heroes were up to and Endeavor’s flaming mug had been glaring up at him from a magazine rack. 

It wasn’t until he actually sat down to read the damn thing that it hit him how much of a waste the purchase had been. He didn’t care about the hero’s house, what it looked like, or the kind of taste Endeavor had when it came to selecting furniture.

Still, the magazine was in his hands. He had spent money on it.

Endeavor’s tour was the headlining article in the center of the publication. The first page of the printed package consisted of a photograph of the hero, that spanned two pages, standing and scowling at the entry of his front gate. Flowing script teased the traditional Japanese building style Endeavor had gone for during construction. 

All Might didn’t bother to read the actual story that went into detail about Endeavor’s home or the firms that had assisted in the design, he just glanced over the massive glossy photographs that took up each of the pages -- all of which involved a scowling Endeavor standing with his arms crossed in various rooms of his house.

Humored by the hero's consistency, All Might had to admit that the magazine may not have been a total wash. Besides, it had given him quite the idea: dropping downtown one day and kicking down the hero’s front door. Surely the level of disrespect would make the Hell Flame hero erupt ?

It wasn’t that All Might had specifically attached himself Endeavor… but the man’s role as the number one hero did naturally establish ‘the great hero and the great villain’ dynamic between the two of them. He was always so reactive and easy to wind up; a few taunts, or a simple appearance, and Endeavor could be enraged to the point of nearly burning blue. The resulting encounter was usually vicious and that always got All Might’s blood roaring. 

Plus, the accompanying press was always good.

Ample media attention was on his mind when he flipped to the last page of the centerfold. Just as he had been in every picture preceding, Endeavor was standing and scowling directly into the camera in some room in his home. 

Though, for the last shot, he had been joined by his two sons, who both looked equally unhappy to be involved in the project. There was also a smiling girl who All Might initially mistook for the hothead’s wife, until he noticed the flecks of amber in her otherwise white hair. It was the daughter, he realized. The wife wasn’t in the photo.

It was such an ordinary picture for Endeavor, the quasi-family man. It hadn’t been the first time the printed faces of the man’s spawn had emptily stared up at All Might -- the hothead was always quick to show off to the world what he had created. Especially since one of his sons was prepared to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a hero.

Perhaps it was that general line of thought that caused the villain to hesitate on turning the page. It wasn’t that he cared about Endeavor’s family ( hardly ), it was the idea of creating and having something that was undeniably his. He could see Endeavor in the faces of all his children -- even the smiling girl -- and in his mind’s eye, he envisioned his own family picture. All Might standing in the back, a brood of strong children surrounding him. 

Of course, in his fantasy, they were all carbon copies of him; leering children with confident postures and various stylings of messy blond hair.

It was one of the few times in his life that All Might seriously reflected on offspring. 

His children.

But they wouldn’t just be his children, would they? Someone would need to carry them, contribute their own DNA to the mix--

And that’s when you entered his head and suddenly there was an unfamiliar feeling pooling in the pit of his non-stomach.

It wouldn’t just be his children -- it would be your children. Together. A perfect blend of the two of you that you would carry…

Ohhh, but that image changed his line of thought, quickly snatching back the idea of ‘togetherness’ and replacing it with something more possessive. You round with his child--


… Why settle for just one?

He shook himself out of his almost-daydream, pointedly ignoring his lack of revulsion that usually accompanied disgustedly domestic thoughts like that.

No longer interested in the magazine, he lifted it up by a handful of balled pages and tossed it into the garbage. 

It was a worthless purchase after all, he determined as he made his way out of the kitchen.



You had arrived home from work one evening to find a wonderful surprise waiting for you--

A large puddle of water that had apparently gushed out across the kitchen floor from your dishwasher.

You suspected a leak had sprung during the wash cycle that you had started before you left for work. Irritated experimentation confirmed it: until the problem was solved, water would steadily spurt out whenever the appliance started up.

The need to fix overpowered any fatigue you had from having spent most of the day at work. After changing into leisure clothes, you ended up with most of your upper body shoved inside the machine, poking, prodding and unscrewing watertight seams and hose connections, trying to determine where water was escaping.

And, at some point, All Might had quietly entered your apartment.

Although broken windows and doors had become increasingly rare as your relationship evolved, they hadn’t been entirely eliminated. You had gotten fed up enough one night, after you discovered a bent door and broken frame, that you had just given the brute a key. That way, you no longer had to deal with any maintenance requests or the same curious repairmen he sent your way. All Might could just let himself in through the front door, saving you some headache.

The downside was that All Might could just let himself in through the front door and you were an idiot to think that wasn’t going to cause you any additional headaches.

He found you grunting and softly cursing to yourself, ass helplessly sticking up in the air. Minutes passed and it soon became clear to him that, not only did you not hear the villain enter, you were entirely oblivious to his presence behind you.

He liked that.

Taking one last mental snapshot of your… presentation, he leaned against the doorway of your kitchen and let out a low whistle.

It hadn’t been the first time All Might had snuck up behind you with the intention of scaring you. Still, at hearing the unexpected sound, you jolted and let out a soft gasp that you immediately regretted.

You knew who was there.

Snorting to yourself, you brought your head out from the dishwasher, glaring at your beaming houseguest.

“Don’t look so unhappy to see me!” All Might crooned with one of his smiles. “Don’t stop working because of me, either. I was enjoying the view.”

Your face darkened at his corny line and you wiped at your forehead with the back of your wrist, tossing your screwdriver back into the toolbag beside you.

“I’m done anyway,” you grumbled, grabbing a hold of the counter above you and pulling yourself to your feet. “I have to replace the lining around the door.”

“Ah, sprung a leak?”

Did. It’s clean now.”

All Might stood and watched as you handled putting away the probably-clean dishes before moving onto the dishwashing racks. They gave you some trouble as neither one wanted to align properly on their tracks. It took you a bit of finagling to get the top one in and then the bottom was--

All Might’s hands were on either side of your hips.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you…” he said thickly behind you, thumb digging into the front of your pelvis as he squeezed and mauled the pliable flesh of your sides.

“It’s been a week!” You retorted, baffled and trying to stand a little straighter as you glanced over your shoulder at him. “You used to go months without seeing me e --”

Without warning, he lifted your lower body off the ground to better position it against his crotch -- the sudden imbalance had you grabbing for the counter to keep your face from smacking into it.

“Isn’t that much better?” He sighed, twisting and groping the love handles his pressured touch was creating. “Now why don’t we--”

“Not tonight, All Might.”

The tone of your voice was firm and had enough resolve in it that the villain was looking at you with raised brow confusion. 

It was clear what he was silently asking: What? Why not?

After enough impatient wiggling, he returned your feet to the ground, allowing you to finish putting the dishwasher back together. Once the last rack was in place, you closed it with a firm snap.

“I’m switching birth control,” you said, unhappily studying your nails, aware his gaze was on your face. “Apparently you don’t have to wait for a period to start the new pack… I didn’t know that.” You switched to giving him a hard look. “I haven’t started my new pack and I’ve been off it for a few days. So no... funny business until I’m all squared away.”

There was no way in hell you were putting All Might’s dick anywhere near you without you being protected. Even if he wore a condom it wouldn’t give you enough peace of mind — it still put a level of control in his hands that you did not want to give up.

At so wholly denying him sex, you expected All Might’s reaction to be a little bit more… annoyed. Disappointed, even, with maybe a little bit of bargaining involved. Truthfully, you had already mentally prepared yourself to satisfy him with something, more than likely a blowjob (with the expectation that maybe you’d be given a little something for yourself in return...).

Instead, the man was looking at you… oddly. You couldn’t quite put a finger on his reaction, that looked to be somewhere between shock, turbulence and unease.

You furrowed your brows.

“You doing okay there, tiger?”

The concern you had over his unusual demeanor, not to mention the pet name… 

It just made matters worse. 

All Might made an unhappy, strangled sort of sound in his throat and turned heel, plopping himself down on one of your kitchen chairs. The cheap piece of wooden furniture creaked at his weight and you winced, expecting it to crumble apart like the one he had broken a month or so earlier.

Surprisingly, it held.

All Might was in his own little world, face stormy as he processed whatever was going on in his head. You stared for a bit, expecting something. When it didn’t come, your thoughts shifted over to heating up one of the frozen dinners you had... 

But, you had to admit, you were intrigued as to what was eating away at the man. 

Did it have to do with denying him sex?

Oh god, he wasn’t about to tell you it was his last night alive or something, was he?

It was your turn to be uneasy. You pushed yourself up so you were sitting on the counter, feet lightly swinging, waiting for a possible bombshell. 

The low ringing of your refrigerator the only sound between you.

Then, he was eyeing you.

Anxiety over the probably-bad news was swirling within your gut but you tried to play it cool, jaw clenching as you purposely prevented your face from appearing too worried.

The wait was excruciating.

“I want you to have my kid.”

The words didn’t settle right away -- his statement wasn’t anywhere close to what you had been preparing yourself for. Your face contorted in confusion, blinking as you tried to unscramble the meaning. Then the confusion began more pronounced as you blinked again, trying to wrap your head about what the fuck he had just said.

You were waiting for the laughter when you looked back at him, certain he was making some sort of joke--

There wasn’t the barest hint of laughter on his face.

He looked… irritated.

“You’re joking,” you said, voice deadpan.

His irritation grew more pronounced.

“I wouldn’t joke about that, girl,” he snapped at you. Which wasn’t true at all -- more than one occasion came to mind where he had teased you about accidental impregnation. However, you were not about to get into an argument over his bad memory.

There was a much bigger issue that needed your attention

“You… You… want to have a kid?”

He didn’t know how to answer that and gave a gruff shrug as if that was good enough. 

You looked at him like he was insane.

“Are you insane?” 

You needed to drive the point home.

The villain let out a scoff and stood, closing the distance between you. It wasn’t a power move, nor was there any intimidation in his approach. He simply stopped in front of you, arms crossed, close enough that your toes were pressed against his legs.

So it wasn’t a joke.

The look he was giving you was expectant -- he wanted an answer. And you wondered what it would be like to possess the single-mindedness that All Might often displayed. Every so often he would get an idea in his head and suddenly, that was all he could focus on.

And it looked like his newest preoccupation was a child.

“All Might… no,” you said tiredly, which made All Might’s head jerk back slightly. You weren’t sure if it was the tone or the answer that struck him the most.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because you're asking me to have a baby and that’s not going to happen.”


“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re a bad guy ?” You hissed, bringing your hands up in a shrugging, dumbfounded gesture that had him glaring. “Destined for Tartarus if you’re ever caught? Oh, we’re not married either. Hell, we don’t even live together. And I can barely afford all of my bills now and kids are expensive. And we both know that raising a child is going to come back on me. Not to mention I’d have to, you know, carry it around for nine months and eventually give birth to it--”

All Might groaned, leaning down to rest his forearms on either side of you before burying his face in your neck.

“You worry too much.”

You could have smacked him over his blaséness toward creating another life.

He didn’t remove himself right away, content with maintaining the closeness and steadily breathing in everything about you. 

You were pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I would handle everything,” he said against you, the bargaining phase starting up. Apparently, it was something he was really focusing in on. Your shoulder twitched at feeling the tickling combination of the hum of his voice and the movement of his lips. “You’d be taken care of.”

You sighed, staring unhappily at the opposite wall. Despite the frown on your face, you tilted your neck for him when he started kissing along your skin. 

He hummed with satisfaction.

“People don’t just decide one night that they want to have a kid,” you grumbled. There was a flash of wet as his tongue peeked out, joining his lips, before he paused against you.

“Been more than a night.”

So it’s been something he’s been thinking about.

Well, so he claims.

There hadn’t been any indication in your interactions with him that he had kids on the mind--

Well, except when he had popped his thigh into your backside toward a store display of baby carriages last month, wiggling his eyebrows at you. But you had taken that as one of his… 

Oh god, did you have to second guess all of his teasing interactions going forward? 

Were they hints to something deeper?

But a kid?

With him ?


You set your jaw, really forcing yourself to spit out what was coming next.

“You know what else, All Might?" You swallowed. “I can’t trust you to not leave me all alone with a child.”

You felt him slow.

Then go still.

What you said… 

It wasn’t something he could play off or drop a humored response to.

Because it was a very real possibility. 

A strange sensation traveled across your body, something akin to sadness but not as definitive. Almost like a melancholy over having admitted to something very near and dear to your heart. Fear, certainty and uncertainty all rolled into one.

Perhaps that’s why neither of you ever talked at length about the future -- it simultaneously was and wasn’t there.

It was just better… to take things one day at a time.

Apparently, your accusation was enough to stagger him. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t go back to kissing you. Didn’t move. Just stood with his face still buried against you as he processed an actual fear you had admitted to him. 

You gave him a few more minutes against you before you inhaled deeply, for some reason feeling as if you had just finished a decent cry, and started to shimmy away from him and off the counter.

He didn’t try and stop you.

Both of you refused to meet one another’s eyes as you smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles of your shirt. Neither of you knew what to say, how to react. 

Though you did give his arm a sad pat before you decided to leave the kitchen entirely.

You needed a breather before trying to make dinner.

All Might didn’t follow right away. You weren’t sure what he was doing in the kitchen -- standing there looking unhappy, you assumed. So, you settled on watching some comedy show in the living room -- a forced attempt to lighten your mood.

It wasn’t that you were mad at All Might -- for once -- the topic was just… heavy.

It was a solid ten minutes or so before the large blond man appeared, wordlessly taking a seat beside you on the couch. Instinctively you braced for the sudden sag in the furniture, adjusting when you started to slide down the slope his denseness created.

You cast a sidelong glance at him, noting he was staring directly at the television. Assuming he didn’t want to talk, you followed suit--

It was annoying, sometimes, how easily he could move you if he wanted. 

With laughable ease, he leaned over, grabbing you around the midsection and lifting you to resettle on his lap, facing him. Bewildered by his sudden move, you were sputtering at him but didn’t quite form cohesive words.

He brushed his thumb across your chin, expression uncharacteristically contemplative as he stared at your mouth. 

Though, you were almost certain your mouth wasn’t what he was thinking about. 

“What if… I promise not to die?” he asked. You had gone silent, watching him work through his own thoughts. Once he said that, however, you snorted with a raised brow -- so he was still on that.


“I’m a catch,” he snapped back. “Who better to have kids with than me ?”

“Are you going to retire?” you asked. His sneer was answer enough. “Jesus, Toshi, you’re not in the best health already and you won’t even consider living out the rest of your days--”

“I told you I’m not going to die. Leave it at that.”

“That’s not how the world works.”

He grinned at you though, returning to stroking your chin, though it was a much more appeasing gesture that time around. 

“Darling,” he said slowly, with a level of certainty that made your stomach squeeze. “I can twist and force this world to behave any way I want.”

It was a non-answer. It was a nonsensical answer. 

But he was looking at you so certainly, the beginnings of a driving fire echoing on his face, that, you felt the beginnings of a smile pull on your lips too.

It was the first time he had promised anything remotely related to a future. And, maybe you were suffering from level of Stockholm Syndrome after spending so much time handling his love, but… you believed him. He was telling you that he had no plans on leaving you.

“You’d be a terrible dad,” you offered, which only made his sly smile grow in size, glinting white teeth appearing behind parted lips.

You were playing into it.

“You’d be a good mother.”

Again, it was an otherwise terrible answer--

That had your stomach doing a strange sort of somersault.

“What if I don’t want it, though? Motherhood?” You asked softly, reaching up to lightly grab his wrist. Though it wasn’t to stop the motion of his hand -- limply you held on, allowing him to continue his stroking movement. “You gonna run off and find someone else to knock up?”

Unexpectedly he made a face, tongue flicking across his mouth as if he had tasted something foul. 

“If it’s not with you, I don’t want them,” he grunted. 


“Why what?

“Why me?”

The stroking stopped as he eyed you, trying to determine the best way to handle your question. There were a multitude of reasons driving him, most of which he couldn’t explain or put into words. To him, they were just urges that maybe, if he had a very brave therapist and an ounce of patience, he could have worked out the possible underlying motivations. Love, connection, the desire to reclaim a familial closeness, overcoming the hurdle of fear of loss…

Instead, he leaned back on the couch, arms hanging along the length of the back of it and then some.

“I want to fuck you fat with my kid.”

And with that, he lost whatever poignant tenderness he had been fanning.

You groaned at him, body going limp with indescribable disappointment in his… crassness. Your deflated reaction only made him cackle before he savagely bucked up his hips. Unprepared for sudden jolt, you inhaled loudly when you momentarily went airborne--

But he snapped forward, wrapping his arms around you entirely.

“Our kids would be perfect,” he groaned, returning to his earlier neck nuzzling, arms and body squeezing and crushing in a way that made you feel like you had been caught in the embrace of an overly-affectionate anaconda. “And I would take care of everything. Anything you want, you’d have.”

“Kids,” you breathed, slightly dazed, emphasizing the plural.

“Sweetheart, do you really think I could stop at just one?”

Another stomach somersault.

“All Might,” you groaned, trying to shrug away the newest round of neck kisses. “You can’t handle children. You can barely handle Midoriya.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed before chuckling against you, breaths coming out in tickling puffs. “Imagine the training they’d have now that I’ve had practice.”

That spoken train of thought was more for him but still, you found your brows dipping.

“You’re going to help raise them?” You asked, meanwhile internally slapping yourself over speaking in plural. You hadn’t even agreed to one and you’re already talking multiple!

He inhaled deeply.

Then exhaled loudly.

“I guess,” he grumbled.

You had to laugh at that. 

With two hands pressed against the base of his throat, you managed to force his head far enough away from you that you could see the shadows of his eyes. He seemed displeased at the broken face-on-skin connection but his squeezing hold on your body remained ironclad.

“You want me that have babies--” You emphasized the plural again. “-- and the best I can get to the question of you helping me raise them is, ‘I guess’?”

Fine,” he said thickly, sour face returned. “I’ll help.

“Actually, that’s probably a bad idea,” you sighed to yourself, pushing further away. “They’d probably turn into little monsters if you were involved. Maybe it is best I raise them. With any luck, they’d turn out like me.

All Might looked at you plainly.

“You’d want them to be like you,” he intoned dryly. Though he didn’t directly imply anything, judging from his unimpressed face, he suggested a lot. You bristled, smacking him on the shoulder.

Smart like me,” you snapped to which All Might responded with a vicious smile.

“I’m smart,” he said with a slightly bared-teeth, miming that he was going to bite your hand before--

His face smacked back into your neck, returning to its apparent home for the evening.

Though, you had apparently riled him up enough that he introduced teeth into the equation, nipping accompanying his mixture of soft and loud, open-mouthed kissing. He felt you shudder beneath him and that was enough the elicit a grunt of his own. 

You had said you were off birth control.

The idea of unprotected sex, actual unprotected sex, was thrilling in a new way that had his skin burning. You knew he was getting excited -- you didn’t feel the sudden swelling of an erection but his hugging had shifted into him pulling you into him, the slightest rubbing starting up. You weren’t even sure if he realized what he was doing, too caught up in whatever madness was swirling around his head.

“I want eight,” he groaned. You scoffed.

“You’re not getting eight. You’re not getting one.

At your denial he lifted his head so that he could bite your chin -- he looked hazy and that was enough to make you swallow with sick, excited, trepidation.

“I’d take good care of you,” he crooned against your chin, lidded blue eyes burning into yours. “Tell me what you want.”

Begging. A begging All Might. Oh, it was a rare sight that had you melting and grinning all at once, stroking his cheeks as he continued to leave soft kisses against your chin.

You had all the power. Pregnancy? Childbirth? Child-rearing? Sure, he may have a presence and a hand but it was all your realm. He knew that too, judging from the way he was so sincerely trying to win the favor of his little goddess. It was the one time he couldn’t twist you into submission. No, strong-arming you would ruin the taste of everything.

At least he understood that.

“So, you’d give me money?” You asked with a laugh. He curled his lip unhappily at how plain and typical the request was but affixed you with a look that plainly said he would. For once though, you weren’t interested in the money. No, this part of your life you wouldn’t want to be associated with any kind of transaction.

How noble of you.

“What about a house?” You asked, mind buzzing with what material things you could get him to agree to while he was so warm toward you. “A car? Jewelry? Home-cooked meals?”

With each request you dropped your voice lower and softer, coaxing a lax All Might’s face up so that your lips were close to touching. He grunted at you -- a wordless yes to everything.

“A big bathtub? The most comfortable bed in the world? What about a foot rub every night?”

All Might rested a large hand on most of your forearm.

“Don’t push yourself,” he grumbled. The request list was encroaching ridiculous, which annoyed him. You were making fun of him and the tightness of his face only highlighted his obvious hurt feelings as opposed to hiding them. 

All you did was ‘tsk’ though, brushing your nose slowly against the tip of his.

“Ankles swell during pregnancy, honey bun. Don’t be cruel.”

All at once he was grunting and leaning up to crush his mouth against yours in a heated kiss, air punctuated by loud nose breathing, lulled back to an atypical softness by your words and the suggestion of pregnancy. Your grip on his face had done nothing to slow him, so you simply held on, cupping his cheeks while you felt his arms grow tighter around you.

“Don’t break me,” you laughed into the corner of his mouth, escaping as much of his kiss as you could to warn him of his hold. You felt a fraction of relief. 

“I want babies with you,” he slurred, rubbing more than his cheek against you before licking the corner of your mouth. “Say yes.

The smart thing to do would have been to end it, to pull away and give All Might a chance to cool off. 

But then he was shoving his tongue inside your mouth.

Your eyes fluttered from a mixture of the intensity of his making out and the lack of decent airflow. The hands you had on his cheeks slid down to rest by his ears, pinching soft earlobes between your thumb and pointer finger.

“Babies,” he groaned, brain slightly addled. “Money, jewelry, fuck, a horse?”


“I don’t care, you’ll get it.”

You were laughing again which only made him more frenzied. Wrapping arms were shifting around you, hands traveling down your back to slip beneath the waistband of your sweatpants to hold your ass. His mouth was traveling down as well, kissing along the curve of your cleavage, tongue blindly lapping between your breasts.

“I’d want to name them,” you said.


The definitive denial made you giddy and he legitimately snarled and snapped at you when you went to push his head away from you a second time, so you could get another look at his face. Whenever he fell into behavior like that, you had to wonder if he had been raised by animals or if he was just more… aligned with the mechanisms of his Id than a normal person.

“No?” you repeated. He glowered at your raised brow… but noticed the light in your face. You were more humored than mad. “What would you name them?”

A scoff was your answer. But you did that little head bob that meant he needed to give you more and blindly he started scrambling for names he liked.

“Washington,” he rattled, irritated and scowling. “Fucking, Indiana. David… Tank.”

“Tank!?” You said, disgusted before launching into body-heaving laughter. Truthfully, Tank hadn’t been on the top of his list. But he had fallen short of American names and had just spouted the first tough thing he could think of. “And what about girl names?”

“Girls?” All Might’s brows shot up as bared his teeth in another unfurling smile. “I want sons.

You leaned back, tilting your head as you studied him. His hands were still moving beneath your pants, fingers pinching and groping the fat of your ass. 

His face was still clouded but there was a predatory sharpness as he waited to see what you had to say. You assumed he had also realized you had reached a ‘sink or swim’ point. He was gung-ho on starting the babymaking process that night. 

Carefully you reached to stroke at the wrinkles beneath his eyes with your thumb.

He leaned into the palm you had rested on the side of his face.

“Tank...” You murmured with a roll of your eyes. 

… Then you gave him a soft smile.

“I always liked the idea of naming our son after you.”

It didn’t hit him right away, what you said. Apparently, he had zoned out, resting against your hand.

But then you saw a clear, recognizing blink. 

The slight dip in his brows when he realized the implication. 

The… momentary shock--

And the slow reveal of the large, encompassing smile that displayed all of his teeth.

“Liked the idea, huh?” He purred, after a bit, a little lightheaded and suddenly much too hot. You shrugged as you listened to his loud, tongue-rolling swallow. You felt like you were vibrating from a not unpleasant nervous energy.

You took a steadying breath that had him hunching forward toward you, ready.

“You can’t die--” You began with finality.

Oh darling, I’m going to outlive you," he hissed immediately, hands sliding further down your pants to clutch the back of your thighs.

“And we’re not naming anyone Tank.”

Anything for you, my love,” he hissed again with a tightly strained chuckle that had his body twitching. 

All it took was the barest of nods from you and he was off the couch like a spring, blindly kissing your face, neck, chest, shoulder, mouth, eyelids-- as he stumbled toward the bedroom, knocking along the wall. 

He was right though, you thought to yourself as a large hand tangled in your hair. Who better to have kids with than him?

In fact, you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather have kids with.