“You know what’d be awesome, Anon?”

	“No, what?”

	“If you got up and got me some more beer.”

	You roll your eyes at Winnie, who’s currently cuddled up next to you on the couch. “Can it wait until commercial? The quarter’s almost over, anyway…”

	“Fiiiiiiiiine,” she whines, “but for making me wait, you’re getting the barbecue chips, too.”

	“What? I grabbed a brand new bag of salt and vinegar chips like, ten minutes ago. What happened to those?”

	You receive your answer in the form of a crumpled up chip bag chucked at your head. You glare at Winnie, but it’s hard to stay mad at her when she’s giving you the classic puppy-dog stare. Three years together, and you figured you’d build up a resistance to it by now. 
	You turn your attention back to the TV, only to find the football stadium replaced with one of those stupid gimmicky Geico commercials. “Fuck, I missed the end! What happened? Did they score?”

	“I’ll tell you after you get the beer and chips,” Winnie cheekily replies, giving you a light shove with her foot-paw. She lounges back on the couch as you get up and head for the kitchen.

	Along the way, you pass by a few framed photos from Winnie’s days at her old finishing school hanging on the wall. The sight of these pictures is enough to make you stop and reminisce on the good old days, for lack of a better term; back when you first met the ghouls of Grimwood, Winnie included, and had your first dip into the world of the supernatural. Yes, monsters were a thing, but contrary to most popular culture, they were actually pretty nice once you got to know them. That was the whole purpose of the school, after all; to help prepare young monsters to mingle in the human world without getting chased off with pitchforks and torches. 
	A more recent photo, taken in front of Dracula’s castle during the latest reunion, catches your attention. Ah, that’s a day you remember fondly. You hadn’t seen the ghouls in some time, so catching up with them was a blast. It was great to see all of them, but something about seeing Winnie again that day gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. 	

	Maybe it was how her personality had mellowed out since she was a rough-and-tumble werewolf pup. Perhaps it had to do with how laid back she was compared to some of the other ghouls. Or maybe it was the fact that puberty had gifted her with hips for days and an ass that put the full moon to shame. Whatever the reason, you spent most of the reunion talking to her, drinking and sharing stories and the like. When the event came to a close, she slipped you her number and told you to keep in touch. You texted her a few days later, asked her to hang out, and things just took off from there.

	“I don’t hear any beer or chip retrieving,” you hear Winnie demand, albeit in a playful tone, “hop to it!” 

	You roll your eyes, stifling a smile as you step into the kitchen and begin gathering the snacks.

	As much of a nuisance as Winnie could be some times, that didn’t stop you from loving her. Sure, it was a BIT of an adjustment dating a werewolf, but having known her for a while, it didn’t take you long to look past the fur, fangs, and fleas. Winnie was an excellent partner, and her tendency to shed everywhere and stuff dead animals in the freezer without telling you you had come to accept as ‘quirks’. Do you get weird looks on the streets? Of course. Are they all worth the sheer love and happiness you’ve been experiencing over the past few years? Absolutely. 
	One thing that made the relationship work was just how casual you both were about the whole thing. Most couples you knew had those moments where they danced around their feelings for each other, but you and Winnie were nothing like that. You were both just so comfortable around each other, you barely had any moments of uncertainty. Sure, you had arguments here and there (like which Marvel movie was the best, or whether silverware had actual silver in it), but no deal-breakers.
 	Hell, even the way she “proposed” was casual. You were both just sitting at McDonald’s having some lunch when out of nowhere she said, “Man, wouldn’t it be awesome if we got married or something?” A month or so later, you had a visit to a local courthouse, signed a contract, and thanks to recently passed legislation on interspecies marriage, you were spending the rest of your life with your furry soulmate. Life couldn’t get any better!
	With a bottle of beer and a bag of barbecue chips (party size) in tow, you head back into the living room.

	“Alright, I got your chips. Please try to remember to chew this time and not just-”

	You pause, caught off guard by the rather unusual sight before you. Instead of lying back on the couch like she was when you left the room, Winnie was now leaning forward in her seat, eyes wide and glued to the television. Her mouth was hanging open too, although she didn’t seem to be drooling. You glance at the screen, catching the last 30 seconds or so of a Fisher Price commercial, featuring a bunch of toddlers getting excited over some colorful toy. Looking back at Winnie, you can’t help but notice a slight glimmer in her eyes; a glimmer usually reserved for whenever you cooked bacon for breakfast or ordered meat-lovers pizza. 

	As the commercial ends, Winnie snaps back to reality. “Oh, there you are. Took you long enough. You got the chips?”

	You toss her the bag and set the beer down on the coffee table before reclaiming your seat next to her. “You okay?”

	“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

	“Well, when I came in, you seemed pretty interested in that commercial-”

	Winnie scoffs. “The one with the rugrats? Yeah, it was alright I guess. Nothin’ special.”

	“You looked like you wanted to eat the screen.” 

	That actually makes her pause in her attempts to open the barbecue chip bag, her smirk faltering ever so slightly. “Well… you know, babies and stuff, they’re like… I dunno, so small and… chubby…”

	“Hey, no judgement here,” you interject. “I mean, you’re still a werewolf, so of course you get cravings for small living creatures every now and then. I can’t really blame you, those babies did look kinda delicious.”

	“Delicio- ew! The fuck’s wrong with you, Anon!? I don’t wanna EAT any babies!”

	“Oh… sorry.” Embarrassed, you avoid her gaze, instead focusing your attention on the football game. That’s what you get for assuming, jackass.
	A few moments of awkward silence pass, then you hear a deep sigh from Winnie.

	“But…” she begins, tapping her claws together, “I do kinda wanna… have one?”

	Your entire body freezes as those words register in your brain. All at once, an avalanche of stress and anxiety rushes over you. You’re not sure how, but something about the way those words are put together in that sentence incites such deep, unrelenting feelings of terror in the pit of your stomach. 

	“Anon? Are you okay?”

	Winnie’s concerned voice pulls you back to reality, and you take a moment to gather yourself. “Y-yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… a lot to take in.” That was the understatement of the century.

	“Yeah, I’m right there with you,” Winnie says, taking you by surprise. “Like, there’s just so many fucking questions. Would our kid be a human, or a werewolf? Or maybe some kind of freaky hybrid? Hell, can we even conceive in the first place? It just boggles my mind, it’s insane!” 

	She takes a moment to crack open her new beer and take a long drink, and she relaxes a bit. “Still, I see all these commercials and TV shows with babies in ‘em and… I dunno, it’s just like, I see that kind of happiness those couples have and… well, I want that for us. Even if it’s messy and confusing and scary, I feel like… I feel like we could make it work.”

	Could you, though? Sure, you worked a decent job and made enough to afford some pretty nice stuff, your house included, but having kids was more than just a financial commitment. You’ve heard it firsthand from your friends and family that bringing a baby into the world is no easy feat. Sleepless nights followed by exhausting days, the sudden huge changes you have to adjust to, constantly worrying that you’re messing up; not to mention, the very idea of dealing with a pregnant, hormonal werewolf sends shivers down your spine. You can’t help but feel bad for Winnie’s dad, dealing with all of that for every litter they had.

	“Winnie, I…” you struggle for words, which makes things worse because you know Winnie’s waiting for a reply, and you don’t want to upset her. “I’m… not saying I don’t want to have a baby, I just… does it have to be like, right here, right now?”

	Winnie’s ears flatten, but her expression carries a bit of sympathy. “Anon, I totally get it if you’re scared; hell, I’m just as terrified. Actually, I’m kinda pissed at myself, too. I told myself when I was a lot younger that I was never gonna have kids, and here I am, drooling over Fisher Price ads.”

	“Maternal instincts, you think?”

	“Oh, God, you’re probably right. That makes it even worse!” She falls back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Y’know, maybe you’ve got the right idea. Maybe now’s not the best time to think about this kinda stuff. I mean, now that I think about it, there’s a LOT of stuff I wanna do with my life before I try and settle down or some shit.”

	You nod, having your own personal list of things you wanted to do while you both still had the freedom. Actually… that gives you an idea.

	“Okay, well, how about this?” You put an arm around Winnie and pull her close. “Let’s make a list of say… ten things we wanna do before having kids. Whenever we do one of them, we cross it off, and when there’s nothing left…”

	“I get it,” Winnie says, her tail starting to wag. “Like, a baby bucket list!”

	“Exactly! It’ll give us plenty of time to enjoy our freedom AND prepare for the possibility of having kids!”

	“You’re a genius, Anon!” Before you can even react, Winnie’s got her arms wrapped around you and her lips firmly locked with yours. You, of course, happily reciprocate until she pulls away. “And here I thought I only married you for your good looks.”

	“Oh, please, we both know that’s bullshit.”

	Winnie snorts, giggling before giving you a rather sultry look with half-lidded eyes, tail wagging eagerly behind her. “Listen, I know we’re waiting on babies,” she says, claws tickling the back of your neck, “but you wouldn’t be opposed to some practice, would you?”

	You smile. “Not at all, fluffybutt. Should we take this upstairs?”

	“Are you kidding? It’s our house, let’s do it right fuckin’ here,” Winnie declares, immediately beginning to undo the buttons on her flannel shirt.

	Goddamn, life is good.