Married Grown Ups

Summary: Just a couple of married grown ups, wondering about married grown up things. April/Andy. References to episode 5x3.

When he skypes with her that night, which they've been doing every night since she's been away, Andy's bouncy bubbly happiness is even more pronounced than usual. She wonders why until he tells her about his day, playing princesses with two little girls while Ron filled in a pothole. She can imagine the scene well, Ron grumbling and grousing while Andy donned a tiara and make up, and then he sends her a picture he took with his cellphone of Princess Swanson that he managed to sneak while Ron wasn't looking.

"This is so going online," she says, saving it to her phone and replacing it on her nightstand. She's all ready for bed in one of Andy's t-shirts and oversized sweatpants, sitting with her computer propped up against the wall next to her bed. Miles away, Andy wears his own pajamas, and his hair is wet from his recent shower. It's as close as they can come to sleeping in the same bed again, and they'll take what they can get.

"Did I tell you about the piggy back rides?" Andy asks, still smiling over his day.

The image erupts into her mind, and suddenly April sees Andy giving piggy back rides to a little girl with his smile, his own sparkling eyes. And suddenly her mind is in overdrive and far away from this conversation.

She's seen him play with his little cousins before, seen him with a gaggle of kids tackling him, seen him wave back to kids who wave at him from the backseats of cars on the street. But she's never really thought about Andy with kids of his own. Kids of their own.

But they're married grown up people, and that's what married grown up people do, after awhile. They have crying babies and clingy kids, watch them grow big and strong, and send them off to school and college, and they're always your kids, forever, even after they have crying babies of their own and after you're all old and gray.

She doesn't know if she wants that life. She doesn't know anything about kids at all except they're needy and dependent and so very messy. They can be cute, sometimes. And Andy. He doesn't know anything about raising a kid, either. She thinks he'd at least be a better parent than her, because he loves playing with them and never seems to get sick of it. He's a natural with them, and might even be able to learn all the hard parts of being a dad someday too.

She doesn't know if she could ever make a good mom.

"Earth to April," Andy says, and it's only then that she realizes she's been zoning out imagining herself with a fat belly and Andy's baby inside.

"Oh, sorry," she says. "Guess I'm kind of tired."

"Geezer," teases Andy. "It's not even late. What were you thinking of? I swear I thought the video had frozen."

"Nothing much," she says, fiddling with a loose thread from her blanket.

Andy gives her an adorably incredulous look. He's gotten better at reading her, that's for sure. "April..." he says, drawing out her name. "Tell me."

She meets his eyes for a moment, but then looks back down at her fidgeting fingers instead. "Do you want kids, Andy?"

He'd been mid gulp of water when she'd asked it, and does a spit take that makes her proud. He chokes for a moment, then looks at her like a deer caught in headlights. "Oh my God, April, are you pregnant?"

"What? No! I was just thinking of you with the kids and stuff."

"Oh, yeah, babe you definitely should have started with that. I was just like - boom - mind blown for a second, you know," he says, gesturing wildly and making an explosion sound with his mouth.

"Okay, but do you?" she asks, trying not to seem too worried or concerned about the answer but probably failing.

"Well, I mean, I think it would be cool to have kids. Someday. But April, I'm not ready to be a father. I mean, I like playing with kids but I just don't think that's enough to be a good dad, right? Why do - do you want to have kids now?" he asks, still looking completely thrown.

"No, I just thought maybe you did. But you know, sooner or later people are gonna start to ask us when we'll have kids since we're married and that's what married people do."

"Yeah, but those are old married people who are ready to be boring and responsible. I say we got at least five years before we're ready to be like that, right?"

She considers the thought and wonders what five years down the road will be like, wonders if the idea of being responsible for a little girl or boy that was entirely theirs won't scare her as much by then. A little boy with his smile, and her dark hair. She can see them teaching him about the world, and how to be awesome, and how to annoy Uncle Ron just enough that he can't help but love him. But Andy's right. That's years down the line, and for now, she just wants to take it one day at a time loving Andy more than she thought was possible. "You'll be a good dad someday, Andy." she tells him, and he smiles purely.

Andy, all sweet sincerity. "And you're gonna be the most awesome, hottest, best mom ever."

"I love you, Andy."

"Awesome sauce." says Andy, but he winks at her before she even has time to glare. "I love you too, April. Like, it's stupid how much I love you."

She smiles, then yawns. "I guess I'm ready for bed."

"Me too," he agrees.

With that, she places her computer onto the nightstand, makes sure it's plugged in for the night, and turns off the lamp. The glow of the computer gives her enough light to adjust herself in bed.

Across all the miles, Andy does the same thing, and turns the computer to face him. There's darkness in both rooms now, but they can just barely make out each other's silhouette on the computer screens. ""Goodnight, Andy." she says, voice muffled slightly by her pillow.

"Goodnight," he replies, voice equally as muffled.

She closes her eyes and thinks of him, and pretty soon, the sound of his snores from her computer speakers guide her to sleep.