milocxllum:
Milo smiled, “Years of practice. I’d punch everyone that talked shit on me as soon as I graduated high school. This queer could punch, that’s for sure.” He turned a little more, trying to ease the pressure on his side. He had plenty of concerns regarding this subject, but none of it was ever negative to actually raising the children. He wanted to – that was obvious. “I do too, Finn. But…” he trailed off, rolling onto his back as well as he looked up at the ceiling. Milo was twenty six, Finn was twenty-nine. He almost felt like he was playing catch up with Finn’s life. “What if I’m not home enough, you know? The last thing I need is my kid’s asking you ‘who’s that’ whenever I come home.” Milo played with the hem of his shirt, “Both. One of each.”
“I bet they never messed with you again,” Finn assumed gently, letting his head loll to face Milo’s profile. He watched how his features dimmed in their discussion and Finn was taken aback by the amount of thought he seemed to have given this conversation. “What is it?” he nudged lightly, hearing Milo’s voice trail away. Breathing softly, Finn nodded with an understanding that resonated deeply in his chest. He propped himself up on his elbows and laid a hand gently on Milo’s stomach, fingers light as he knew there was bruise underneath. “I know everything has taken off recently,” he began, referring to Milo’s career. He wasn’t blind to even the way countless people in the marine center were stealing looks at the famous man beside him. “But you’ve still made so much time for me, for our life. I know you would do the same for a kid, if we had one. They wouldn’t forget who you are.” Finn hovered for a moment, trying to determine whether his assurances had made a difference. He listened to Milo’s answer and it was subconscious the way a smile tugged at his lips. “Alright then.”

















