Hello, it's me again! Welcome to my one-shot series. I've been enjoying writing one-shots because they're a little more noncommittal. But if any of you are following my chaptered story from another category, do not fret! I am writing it as well.

This are one-shots on the GMW characters and their lives as parents (or as parents-to-be). I'm following no timeline, but basically these one-shots revolve around one AU, which is that Joshaya, Rucas and Smarkle are married (or possible will be married in future chapters). So there's a continuity in that sense.

I hope you enjoy. Requests are welcome (although I have an idea for a couple more chapters).

Disclaimer: I do not own GMW nor its characters.

How to Parent:

Husbands' Night Out

"I'm surprised your wife let you go out tonight," Josh remarked taking a piece of nacho and scooping quite an amount of salsa on it. "She's got you on a tight leash lately."

The boys were gathered around the table over at the pub one Friday night, not far from where Topanga's bakery was, and definitely within a considerable radius from their respective apartments. Friday night was boy's night, or so they claimed one night when they watched a football game altogether two months ago, except that this was the first time they actually got to claim it for real.

"What are you talking about?" Lucas asked incredulously, taking a forkful of the ribs he had ordered earlier and nearly forgotten. "I don't need her permission. I am a secure western hero—"

Farkle cracked up taking a swig of his beer. "Yeah, Cowboy. I see you're missing your rope," the genius said. "Oh wait, I guess it's wrapped around your wife's pretty little finger, just like you."

"Yeah, man," agreed Josh. "Riley's got you whipped."

"That is not true," Josh defended. "In fact, I got to choose dinner last night."

Josh raised an eyebrow, "Is that so? And what did you choose?"

Lone Star paused for a moment, considering, until he finally said meekly, "Italian."

"Which is Riley's favorite," Farkle said as a matter-of-factly.

Lucas frowned. "Do you want to have a World War III?" His friends laughed at the idea. Of course, it's best to have pregnant Riley to have what she wants, because the last time she didn't, well, let's just say it wasn't pretty. "Plus Millie likes it too, so I was outvoted."

"Well, she copies her mom like a shadow," Josh pointed out, gesturing with his hand holding a beer bottle, nearly spilling its contents. Millie was a Riley-mini-me, a ball of sunshine that has Riley's brown eyes and Lucas' smile.

"Once that kid bats her pretty little eyelashes, Lucas is gone," added Farkle.

Lucas frowned. "She has those big doe eyes like Riley. How can you say no to that?"

"Oh you poor thing," Josh lamented, taking another piece of the nacho chips. "You are going to have your work cut out for you when she grows up."

"Oh my god," Farkle realized. "You're going to be a Cory."

Lucas was taken aback at the comparison. "What? No," he denied, mouth agape. "What? No—Of course not! You know why?" And his friends knew it was rhetoric. "I'm not going to chase him out of my apartment. He's never stepping foot in our house because I am going to have a shotgun ready. That's right. Western Superdad, that's what they should call me."

"Okay, Western Superdad," mocked the youngest of the Matthews brothers. "Get your superpowers to work and grab us another round of beers. And where's Zay?"

Lucas shrugged. "Well, he better come quick because I think I only have one more round until the missus starts calling."

"You know what I don't understand," said Farkle pausing a moment to take another sip of his beer, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red, usually an indicator of a state on inebriation. "Is why something so tiny can pack such a loud screech? I mean, just how big is their lung capacity? And why, oh why, do they cry so freakin' much?"

Lucas laughed sympathetically, giving his friend a light tap on the shoulder. "Rough nights, buddy?"

"Rough is an understatement," groaned Farkle, massaging the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "I mean, they cry when they're hungry, they cry when they poop, they cry when there's nothing to cry about. Why? Don't their tear ducts run out of water or something? I don't understand. I graduated from an Ivy League school and I don't understand why babies work the way they do."

Josh nodded, tipping his beer bottle toward Farkle in solidarity. "Having babies should come with a warning sign that says 'beware, you may never sleep again.'"

"And the women blame us because we got them pregnant?" continued Farkle who was feeling on a roll (and under the influence of alcohol, would rant about just anything). "I mean, it's a two-way street, right? Isadora was getting mad at me the whole time she was delivering, and I had to be supportive and what not because apparently I'm not the one giving birth."

"You weren't the one giving birth," Josh clarified.

"So really, whose fault is it that we have a crying baby who wakes us up in the wee hours of the night, huh?"

The other two men exchanged looks. They always enjoyed a ranting Farkle—his arguments were crazy and unscientific as it would normally be if he were sober, but they nonetheless kind-of made sense.

"Okay, Farkle. Maybe you should sit this last round out," said Lucas upon the arrival of the three bottles of beer from the waiter. He takes the bottle meant for the genius and keeps it in the opposite end of the table. "I think we should at least return you to Smackle without ranting about how it was her fault for bringing your baby into the world why you are not getting enough sleep."

"I miss Farkle time," pouted Farkle, letting his face sink onto the table.

"I'm sure you can claim Farkle time anytime. Don't you just spurt out random facts about random things?" asked the Texan native.

"Not that kind of Farkle time," Farkle mumbled.

They raised their eyebrows simultaneously until it dawned to them what he meant. "Ew, Farkle," blanched Josh.

Grossed out, Lucas nearly spilled the beer he was sipping. "Too much information, Farks."

The genius ignored them. "I miss Farkle time."

"You're lucky, Josh," Lucas blurted, opting not to continue a discussion on 'Farkle time'. "You and Maya can still enjoy married life without a kid. Enjoy it while you can, pal, because once you have a baby," he let himself trail, leaving Josh to fill out the end of the sentence.

"Wow," Josh said, taking his final swig of his beer. "That's not very encouraging."

The cowboy shook his head wearily. "You'll never have a good night's sleep again."

"You may never have sex again," Farkle chimed in, still letting his face rest on the tabletop.

"You will change diapers, and your clothes will be covered in saliva."

"You may never have sex again."

"You will want to kill people who will make the slightest of sounds."

Josh kept changing his gaze from the blonde ranger rick to the MIT graduate as they recall their own experience of being new dads.

"But you will also love it when they smile or laugh at you," added Farkle. "It's like the second most beautiful smile you'll see in your life."

Lucas nodded, grinning. "And when they start calling you dad, it's going to be the proudest moment of your life. It's weird."

"And you'll wonder how you brought such a tiny, beautiful little human into this world," said Farkle, a smile slowly forming on his lips. "Because damn, how could something so little also make you tremendously happy."

"I'll pray for soul when the time comes, buddy."

Josh laughed. His friends were starting to scare him with all this scary stories about having a new baby and how it will change his life forever. And maybe it will. No, it definitely will. For a moment he was terrified, but when the two men's tones were starting to change, he felt a moment of relief. It wasn't going to be all bad, right?

"I guess I'll have to make you start praying for me, Lucas," grinned Josh, tipping his beer bottle over to the western hero. "Looks like I'm going to need it sooner than you think."

"Don't worry, you'll only need it when Maya gets pregnant," reassured Lucas.

Josh arched a brow, laughing. "Yeah, and I'm telling you, I need it now."

The two other men exchange a confused look, and it takes them a few more seconds to realize what Josh had meant.

"No way—"

"She's not—"

"Is she?"

"She is!"

"Calm down, guys," said Josh. "And since we're on the topic, keep it a secret until she gets to tell Riley, or I'm dead before I can even meet my own child."

"Holy cow, Maya's pregnant!" Farkle exclaimed. "When did you know?"

"Earlier today," he grinned proudly. "But we want to get a confirmation with the OB-GYN before we tell anyone, so don't tell anyone."

Lucas shrugged. "What's one more secret to keep from our wives, right?"

"That's my man!" cheered Josh, clanking their beer bottles together.

The news taking him by surprise, Farkle massaged his temples. "Suddenly I'm sober again," he said. "But congratulations, Josh. That's great news."

"Really?" Josh chortled. "I was starting to think I'm about to sign my death wish."

"I'm happy for you and Maya," said Lucas, ignoring the joke. "You both are going to be great parents… Well, no. You're probably going to be confused, and clueless and sleep-deprived," he said after considering his words, and Josh frowned at the idea. "But you'll learn, and you'll adapt, and you'll love the hell out of that child."

"We all will," corrected Farkle.

Josh sighed. "Well, it takes a village to raise a child, right?"

They all nodded sympathetically.

"Whose child are we raising?" asked a new voice, and they all turn to see Zay approach them at their table all chirpy.

"Zay!" Lucas called out, standing to give his childhood friend a swift hug for a greeting. "We were just about to leave."

Zay gave them an offended look. He just arrived and now they're all leaving? "What?"

"That's what happens when you're late to your plans with married men," explained Farkle.

"What? It's not even ten in the evening," argued Zay, looking at his watch to check just how late he is. "Not cool, man. Not cool."

"No, what's not cool is angry Riley."

"Aw man, you boys are whipped!"

The rest of them shrugged.