Author's Note: Hi! This is an AU - as in alternate universe - Fuller House fic where Stephanie is able to get pregnant naturally, with Jimmy Gibbler's baby :) So, basically, this fic is about them and their little family as they go from two to three...and beyond. :) Most every other character is in it too, and there's no absence of the Tanner-Fuller magic in this universe! :) I hope everybody likes it! Please review and let me know what you think! :)

She didn't know how to tell him. She wasn't stalling, not exactly, because if she was, she'd be kissing him with no mercy, holding him tightly to her by the sheer force of her tongue. It was one of their favorite, though not newfound, activities; well, it was hers, and because he's a man, or let's face it, a boy with the face of a man, he was quite fond of it, too. He pulls at her hair, unrushed and soft, spending a weird amount of time on the cartilage of her ear with both his fingers and teeth, not that she minds though, because when he whispered her name, his mouth stroking the corner of her own as he takes a breath, holy Toledo does that ever work for her. "Stephosorous, you're my little animal, aren't you?"

Sometimes, in fact, most of the time, unless he wasn't sober, he would vocalize his awkwardness, this odd vulnerability of his, that would mentally announce itself in his head; the embarrassment he felt whenever he'd demote her with sexual phrases or varying nicknames spoken with a kinky accent, to nothing more than what she reveled in, as a whore on a stripper's pole. Damn, how she loves being his little slut, who always, always, gets loved on afterwards, until she falls asleep.

With him holding the reigns, the loving comes a lot sooner than she ever likes, but nonetheless she cherishes it; allowing him to hold her cheeks in his hands, to draw shapes on her inner wrists, or to kiss her like he's the only one who's ever had the pleasure, with a slight territorial edge on the tip of his tongue, as if he knows he's going to be the only one who gets to kiss her for the rest of her life, and knows he doesn't have to say it but so be it because he does anyway, all the time. "I love you. You're awesome."

At this very moment though, on this warm day, forecasting rain warnings without conviction – May twenty fifth, 2019 – 4:55 pm – it wasn't kissing going on in this backyard – thankfully too, because the kids were home, although she couldn't help but think annoyingly, as she looked at his face.

A cleaned up five o'clock shadow, burning in the hot amber hues of the sun, full lips rounding the creamsicle he's eating, teeth biting into the frozen cream of the middle instead of her mouth…oh, wow, did she want him to nip at her ear, palm her lower back, where her skin was bare in the design of her shirt; she wanted him to call her his little Stephanie again, because last night it sounded so innocent coming from his mouth, when they were intertwined, clothed, with the lights still on and above the covers.

It was only so stupidly arousing to her now, because she remembered why it was first so stupidly arousing last night.

They'd come home from the Smash Club early, before the others, stumbling out of the Lyft and laughing their asses off about how Britney Spears started off so humble and then went certifiably insane. It really wasn't all that funny, and she inwardly cringed, thinking of it now. Shit, they were so drunk. When they managed to get inside much too long afterwards, he'd whispered in her ear that he'd love to take her to bed. Though, he really meant take her in bed, the difference plain in the rumbling of his vocal cords, shaking her to her very core. They'd rolled around, making out like the teenagers they swore they still were, in the same room where she applied her first coat of mascara, and ran the flat iron through her hair every morning before school. It was exhilarating.

When he fumbled with the zipper on her little black dress, aptly labelling her a trick tease, she pulled away and began to strip for him, off the bed, before he pulled her back over. That was when he said it, or, breathed it, raggedly in her mouth, so hotly she could feel the sharpness of his breath in the very back of her throat, his tongue playing roughly with her courage hang-y ball, causing her to gag on his words. "Keep putting on a little show like that, my sultry little Stephanie, and I'll be seeing to it that you won't be able to walk for the next week."

The memory made her visibly shiver, 'sultry little Stephanie' repeating itself in his lust ridden, sweat soaked moan, inside her eardrums.

"Stephy Dooby Doo? Are you okay?"

Stephanie blinked, once, twice, forcing her boyfriend to look less sexy, so that she would stop looking cold, sitting there, on their picnic blanket in jeans, something she should be anything but cold in, given the weather. Jimmy was luckily still wearing a shirt, with board shorts and a cowboy hat, as if he were at the beach and not in her backyard, looking both out of place and sexy as hell at the same time. Crap. She forced herself to think of her dad and swallowed, answering him.

"Yeah, babe, I'm fine. Thanks for asking though, you're sweet."

Jimmy grinned. "Well thank you. You're sweeter though. What were you thinking about? Your eyes were like…glazed over…you haven't been smoking weed have you? God, Steph, remember when we found that weed under my bed in my parents' house? You were so stoned I thought I'd put you in like a marijuana induced trance or something. I was ready to call 911."

He laughed, then so did she, grateful for the lapse in their - what was beginning to be a prolonged, relaxing for him, but agonizingly brutal for her, silence.

"Yeah, I remember. Oh god, that was crazy."

"What was crazy?"

Stephanie looked up at the voice, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the sun. Even before she saw whom the voice belonged to, her gaze zeroed in on the sandwich in his hand. "That looks delicious, could you go inside and get me one, buddy?"

Max eyed her suspiciously, looking down at his sandwich, dripping with mayonnaise, and back at her. "This is a tuna sandwich."

She shrugged. "Yeah, so? It looks crazy good."

"Aunt Stephanie," Max said, waving the sandwich in her face, effectively reducing her to a salivating dog, like Cosmo over his liver treats.

"You hate tuna. Mom loves to tell the story about the time when you spit out your tuna casserole all over Uncle Jesse's dress shirt. He was so mad because that was the only one that wasn't covered in baby spit up, and he had a date with what's-her-name from the ice cream store."

Stephanie sighed. Stupid cravings. But oh, how she loved them, because they were the only tangible thing, aside from the omnipresent morning sickness, which as of yet, she was able to keep a secret, that made her feel like all this was actually real.

"I know. But in my defense, I was eight and that's what he gets for trying to pick up girls when he's having a day with his nieces. And your palate changes over time. Just think, maybe one day, when you're my age, you'll hate tuna."

Max shook his head as she ruffled his hair. "Not possible," he spoke around a mouthful, and with that, went inside again from where he came, through the back door.

Stephanie almost reflexively put a hand on her stomach, because although there was nothing to feel, or to be seen, she felt tethered somehow, to a part of her body that was foreign to her, being a woman notwithstanding.

Passing it off as removing her sweater, she then grasped for his hand, squeezing it lightly, almost unperceptively, to the untrained eye in tacit gestures or to the virtually unwitting and Jimmy, she knew, was both.

"Babe, I –"

Just then, Kimmy came barging through from where Max had just disappeared. She was holding what looked like twenty gift bags total on both arms, and the dumb grin on her face widened as she talked.

"What are Mommy and Daddy up to this fine afternoon, huh?"

Stephanie was always weary of what was to come out of Kimmy Gibbler's mouth; even as a kid she knew the girl said things that more often than not matched the intent of her outfits: to shock and receive eye rolls, groans, or laughter, depending on the day.

This one, however, deserved a groan, and honestly, a tear or twenty, too, because if Jimmy understood the implication of his sister's proper noun use, then that was it, and all of her anxiety and hatred towards herself for waiting this long would be for nothing, because she hadn't even, in so many words, gotten to tell him on her own. How she wanted to. If only she knew how exactly she wanted to, something she'd still mentally been figuring out, when they were twice interrupted.

"Kimmy!" she hissed under her breath, when Jimmy just stared blankly at his sister. Probably not sure what to think or what to feel, if he was even doing either of those things at all. It was hard to tell.

"Wait, what did you just say? Kimmy what –"

Jimmy stopped, mouth open slightly. "Did you – you're talking to Steph and me, right? But we're not –"

He looked at her, unblinking. "She's not… you're not…right? I mean…you can't. Didn't you tell me that you couldn't?"

Stephanie gave him a soft smile, she couldn't help it. He was just so endearing like that; like a wonderstruck child on Christmas morning in their toddlerhood, old enough to see on top of the mantel on their tippy toes while standing on a step stool, old enough to understand that Santa does exist and that magic is real, because the cookies and milk are both gone. The carrots too. He was looking at her now as if she were a miracle in her own right, sitting there beside him with a half-upturned mouth, and her hand holding his on her flat stomach.

"So you're really…"

"Unless this is all just a very cruel April fool's joke that Kimmy was conveniently in on," she glared at the woman still standing behind them, who mouthed sorry, still smiling though, just like she was.

Jimmy shook his head after thinking for a few seconds. "But it's May. Like, late May."

She squeezed his hand again, and intertwined the one that was still resting on her stomach, with her own. "Exactly."

"Stephoscope, are you joking? No, you're not. You're pregnant!?"

Stephanie nodded vigorously, pressing herself even closer to his hand, hoping that he could feel what she felt just as powerfully - as much love and adoration the world allowed her to have for somebody.

When he moved his hand away and swiftly pulled her tightly to him so that he could kiss her, she knew. His lips upon hers, so soft, yet firm, delicate and sweet, said it all for him. He separated from her after some time, right after Kimmy cleared her throat, and this was either coincidently or not – she hoped it was, because if it weren't, she'd be pissed, because all of the sudden she didn't want to go another minute without him touching her – stupid, lovely, beautiful, hormones.

Grinning like an absolute idiot, she couldn't help but squeal stupidly, and bury her face in his chest; breathing in his scent – a mix of the outdoors and a woodsy cologne, which she made a mental note to ask him about (if it came in body wash too, because what she wouldn't give to inhale that smell on his naked pectorals, to have the steam of the shower cloud any and all other senses, so it was all she was aware of). It reminded her of their first kiss; when she felt safe from any and all harm, in that one shining crystal of time, those few seconds it lasted, that one moment they shared, which was a first of many.

"I love you," she murmured, and hoped that Kimmy had enough sense to leave them be, now.

Jimmy kissed her on the head, running his fingers through her hair, sliding his index fingers in the hoops of her earrings.

"I love you too. So much. You're so awesome, Stephy my love."

Stephanie laughed, but it was quiet and respectful in the intimacy of the moment. Their moment. "You're awesome too, Jimbo.

"Sorry," she said after a few seconds of silence. "That was not a very good one."

"Nah," Jimmy murmured into her hair. "It was. I love those movies. You can be my Michelle Flaherty any time you damn well want."

She laughed again, fisting the material of his red t-shirt as she whispered, "You like those kinds of stories, huh? Okay, I'll give you one. This one time, at summer camp…"

Stephanie proceeded to tell him about the time when her and Gia went back to Camp Lakota to be counsellors when they were seventeen. It was their last night, around eleven, and they'd snuck a bottle of wine out to the lake, intending to sip it on the dock and reminisce about days before, when they were kids. The conversation turned halfway through the bottle, and they began to talk about the time in the sixth grade (for her) and seventh (for Gia) when they absolutely hated each other's guts.

Somehow, though Stephanie couldn't really remember the catalyst, the two girls ended up lying side by side on the wood, their mouths connected; the drunken spells of red wine were sheer and bewitching, cajoling them to kiss longer, tongue and all, underneath the velvety noir of the sky. The next day, they acted as though it never happened, but she swore she could still feel the warm silhouette of Gia's chest overtop her bra, still taste the cheap wine, and the saccharinity of her breath, as lucidly as if it were still happening, right then.

It didn't sway her, though, these sensations that lingered, because even as she thought about the mystery that Gia embodied, the mystery she'd fleetingly been able to touch, she was wistful to be back in the arms of her then-boyfriend, David Cantone.

As she finished her recount of that night, biting her lip and awaiting his reaction, his eyes bulged and he took in a sharp breath.

"Wow, sweetheart, I knew you were a trouble maker growing up, a sidelined child who just wanted some attention that was all her own and nobody else's residual praise or anger, but I hadn't realized it translated into such rebellion. Sexy rebellion, might I add."

She stopped herself from nodding or saying anything to affirm this statement, to say that yes, it was all true, that she'd been craving the attention of her family ever since she stopped being the favorite child, no matter how entitled that sounded, when the person who lovingly called her their sweet little monkey, died tragically when she was only four.

"You tell your sister that her online psychology class is not enough to give her permission to psychoanalyze me."

She laughed it off instead, blaming Kimmy for his assessment of her; she'd rather do that than admit to the face of its truth and doing so in front of the man she may actually consider to be the best love she's ever had. Scratch that, the only love, real love, she'd ever allowed herself to have.

Jimmy leaned forward to kiss her again, and just as their joined motions were becoming languid in the presence of nothing and nobody, except the transitional evening breeze, Kimmy appeared, pushing her hands against the tops of their heads and forcing them apart.

He groaned, looking back at his sister with a glare, and she followed suit with a trite and half-hearted "how rude!" because all too quickly and suddenly, she couldn't breathe, her head dizzy from the increasing humidity and his kiss.

"Seriously, Kimmy?" he asked, shoving her shoulder.

"Don't shoot the messenger! I just came to tell you, at DJ's request, that Mr. T's here and that you two should be getting your lovebird butts inside before the rest of the Motley crew arrives."

Stephanie followed her boyfriend's suit in rising from the blanket, but was momentarily startled by his hand on her arm, trying to take most of her weight onto himself to help her up. She was about to tell him that she didn't need it, forgetting but only for a second, what she's just told him, that is until he rests his hand against her stomach again, with his other hand curled protectively around her lower back.

"Thanks babe," she smiled, kissing his cheek and taking his hand in her own, so that it was no longer on her stomach when they arrived in the kitchen.

It was Memorial Day weekend, and the Fuller's (well, DJ) decided to host the annual barbeque. Everyone was coming, it was going to be a huge affair, so Stephanie thought what better day to announce her news.

"Steph!"

"Dad, how are you?" she asked, the obligation to be cordial blending in with her legitimate excitement in seeing her father. She almost blurted it out right then, seeing his open expression, his pride so transparent, written on the fairness of his papery skin, in a beaming smile.

"I'm good, great, actually. How are you, honey? And Jimmy?" he added as a smooth afterthought, reaching over to shake her boyfriend's hand.

He was still a Gibbler, and Danny Tanner would forever be cautious with offering up any affection towards one, even if that particular Gibbler was the man his daughter loved.

"I'm amazing, Mr. T. Thanks for asking," Jimmy grinned at him, and Stephanie almost had to elbow him in the ribs for acting way too jovial, enough to raise suspicion.

"I'm good, Dad. Um, isn't DJ making the coleslaw? I think I'll go help her. How about you come too, babe?"

"Sure sweetie," Jimmy answered her, turning away from her father and heading into the kitchen, grabbing for her hand again as she came up beside him after excusing herself a second time, albeit more awkwardly than the first, leaving Danny to raise his eyebrow at her and shrug as he went to answer the ringing doorbell.

"It's always open!" she couldn't resist calling out, hearing her sister's echo a beat before she heard the commotion of people and saw DJ at the kitchen counter, placing salad tongs in the large pottery bowl filled with coleslaw dressed for days.

"Wow, overboard much?" Stephanie asked, plucking a grated carrot from the bowl and putting it into her mouth. "Do you want us all to gain fifty pounds?"

"Actually, I think Dad could use it. He's looking a little thin these days."

"Dad's always been a lanky guy. Cool your jets, Deej," she said, this time taking a whole spoonful of salad.

Stephanie saw the smile DJ gave her as she watched her pile the salad into her mouth, but noticed how she didn't say anything.

Half an hour later, the entire family, and those whom they'd consider family, were crowded in the backyard; nursing mojitos made with sprigs from the mint plant Max had grown in his farm project, engaged in inane, tangential conversations with one another, laughing about nothing in particular, smiling if only to show that they were having a good time, happy to be surrounded by such a crazy amount of love and taking in the scene around them, a scene which they were vitally apart of.

Stephanie was in the last category, sipping on a virgin mojito of club soda and lime, with a sad, droopy mint leaf floating alongside the slice. She's been hyper aware of Jimmy next to her, his arm looped around her waist and his hand once again seeking solace below her belly button.

DJ leaned over to whisper into her ear. "Does Jimmy – oh." She looked fondly, almost enviously, unless Stephanie was imagining things, at Jimmy's hand there. "Are you gonna tell everyone else today? Wasn't that the plan? Once Jimmy knows…"

She nodded. "Yep. That is the plan." Giving DJ a wry smile, she sighed, very nervous suddenly. Her sister gave her a thumbs up and Stephanie breathed out, poised to speak.

"Hey, everyone?" She tried again. "Guys?"

Her attempts were feeble, and she knew this, trying to shake it off and let everybody else in on their little secret. She feared that if she told them, that it would all disappear, or she'd wake up and realize it was all a dream. She wanted to stay in their bubble for a little while longer, but knew it was only a matter of time.

Stephanie put two fingers in her mouth and blew, gaining everyone's shocked, undivided attention, if only for a few seconds. She smiled. "I – I um – have something to tell you guys."

For effect, staring into all the rapt gazes of all the people – or most of the people - she loved, she covered Jimmy's hand on her belly, her smile growing exponentially. "A Gibbler got me pregnant and what's scary is I'm actually very happy about it."

She heard Jimmy laugh and felt him pull her in closer to kiss her temple. "Shut up," he mumbled against her head.

"That joke is so old. You love me, so just get used to the idea already. Things that I do, including having various pet names for you, Steph-a-getti, make you very happy alright," he purred, and she felt an oncoming urge that had the punch of a freight train, to feel those words reverberating along the roof of her mouth, with teeth chattering force, instead of hearing them inside her ear like she was.

Because of her wording, she guessed, the news took a bit longer to sink in. Her dad got it first. "Stephanie, are you serious!? I'm gonna be a grandpa for a fourth time!?"

"Yep," she said, starting to get teary now. She still couldn't believe her luck, how surreal this all was.

"Oh my god," Becky covered her mouth with her hand and squeezed Jesse's with the other. "Steph, I thought – "

"Me too," she sighed. "It's a high risk pregnancy, for sure, but we'll be okay."

At her admission, she felt Jimmy's hand massage light circles, and his physique tense up next to her. "What do you mean 'high risk'? Are they – is the baby gonna be okay? Are you?"

"We'll be good, babe," Stephanie assured him. "We just have to be watchful for my body signs, and if any flags go up, to see our doctor right away."

"Done," Jimmy told her, kissing her cheek then moving affectionately downwards to do the same to her belly. "I'm going to do everything I can to lessen your stress. You and our baby will be waited on hand and foot. I promise."

This received a chorus of awes and hands-to-hearts, but Stephanie shook her head. "No, I just need you to be there for me, mentally. But I guess if that means getting up to make me a tuna sandwich with extra mayo at three in the morning, then yeah, go ahead, wait on me."

She leaned in close to whisper. "I have one rule. You can only obey my every command in boxers and nothing else. And leave your bedhead," she smirked. "Because it's sexy as hell."

"Your wish is my command, sweetheart," he chuckled, chastely kissing her lips as everyone erupted into a second round of congratulatory hugs, cheek kisses, and claps on the back.

"So, Steph, how far along are you?" Becky asked later on, while biting into her hamburger, and when Jimmy looked at her expectantly, as did everybody else, her stomach turned.

She put down her burger and cast her eyes downwards, staring at the pool of ketchup and mustard that had spurted out with every few bites she had taken. "A month. Well, technically six weeks…" she finally looked up at her boyfriend, who was now looking at her in surprise, visibly hurt.

"And you just told me now?"

"Babe I – "

Jimmy shook his head, stubbornly denying her physical requests for affection, taking pleasure, it seemed, in unstitching their sewn fingers. He left the kitchen in silence, saying nothing upon his exit, except her name, short and abrupt, when she pleaded for him to listen and to let her explain.

"Not now, Stephanie, okay?"

There was a lengthy and awkward moment when nobody spoke, the cunctation in conversation heavy with tension and heated words silenced, portent of an upcoming fight between them.

He never calls her Stephanie. Ever since they've gotten to know each other on that deeper level, more intimately than she's ever known anybody, he's stopped doing it. Even when he was mildly angry or upset with her, it would only ever be an exasperated or argumentative "Steph" depending on his mood and the nature of their fight. She knew this was bad, and found herself wishing he'd call her anything else, any one of his myriad of play-on-words nicknames would do.

"Jimmy!" she called after him, standing ungracefully from her chair, leaving it untucked, an action that she knew would make both her father and sister cringe, but that was something she couldn't afford to worry about. She didn't want to, either. The drive of compulsion (in that sense, anyway, others though, were a different story altogether) wasn't a part of her, nor did she have any desire for it to be.

She'd been told time and time again that she was just like her mother, the opposite of her father in the way she tossed jackets onto furniture when she came through the door, kicked off her shoes just after the matt, not before, and in the way she made enormous, stake-holding decisions without thinking it through all the way. Like not telling her boyfriend she was pregnant with his baby, for much longer than was probably seen as ethical.

"Steph, wait." DJ pulled on her arm, keeping her there.

"Why didn't you tell him when you first found out? Why didn't you tell anybody, if not him? Why go through it alone? You didn't have to. Even if you didn't want Jimmy there at the time…you know you can trust me. You always have me. Use me."

Stephanie stared at her sister, who was staring back at her with a searching curiosity, intermingling with the sadness she freely showed within the sparkling of her irises, at the brink of tears.

"Deej," she said, her tone of voice soft, compassionate, or so she hoped it was.

"I'm so, so, sorry. Jimmy should be hearing this too, but now I see that you need to hear it first. I didn't tell anyone, not even the father, not even the love of my life, that I was pregnant because I was afraid. Afraid that this was all a pipe dream, that miscarriage was the inevitable, so why should I get everybody else worked up over me and excited about a baby that may never even get to be? I was told that I'd never be able to get pregnant, because my womb is an inhospitable environment. Figures right? The middle child always gets the short end of the stick."

She caught herself sounding slightly bitter at that, and tried to actively change her tune.

"So, anyways, I get pregnant. Or at least that's what seven positive tests tell me. So, I go to my doctor, and she tells me too, in this calm, but cheery voice, covering her hand with mine. I wanted to tell you Deej, right at that moment in her office, I wanted to call you. I wanted to make it home before I saw Jimmy and tell him in some clichéd, guess who's gonna be a number one daddy, type of way, but I couldn't. Because I wasn't pregnant, because it wasn't possible. I kept telling myself: 'Stephanie, you might be pregnant today, doesn't mean you will be tomorrow, or next week. Your womb isn't meant for a baby to live there, remember? It's inhospitable.'"

She took a big breath, feeling DJ's hand rubbing soothingly in little circles on her back, the way she always did when they were kids, when her younger sister was upset. She gained strength from it and continued.

"That word gave me nightmares for months, since I first heard it in the context of me and its ability to ruin my chances of conceiving. But it was especially terrifying in those weeks that nobody knew. Those first weeks of my pregnancy. I couldn't talk to anyone about my fears, or my joy, not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't have the strength. I knew if I told anyone, I'd break, and I knew if I broke I wouldn't be able to reign my fantasy in, and I'd be completely and utterly dead inside if something ever happened to my baby. It would be because of me. I'd jinxed it by telling people. So nobody could know."

"I'd roll over in the morning to see Jimmy asleep beside me, and I'd run my hand through his hair, while biting my tongue, because every damn morning, when I woke up, I wanted to tell him. Then I'd walk downstairs, and see you Deej, making breakfast for all of us, and your amazing boys with their rumpled pyjamas and sleepy faces and I'd bite my tongue even harder. It was torture for me. And Jimmy doesn't see that. He just sees that I kept it a secret from him, like I betrayed him somehow. Which I guess I did."

"Oh Stephanie," DJ cooed, hugging her close, and much too tight. "I completely understand you. And I'm sure Jimmy does too. He just needs some time to process it all, and see your side. I promise he will."

Stephanie shook her head. "I'm not so sure. Once again, Stephanie Tanner fucks up a really amazing thing by acting like an idiot."

"Language," Jesse chided, covering Nicky and Alex's ears as he winked at her, obviously trying to get her to smile.

"Sorry," she mumbled in response, cracking a little smile to make her uncle feel like his efforts were validated. "I just don't think Jimmy can love me anymore. Not like he did before. I've completely blindsided him."

"Stephanie!" Her name was blanketed by a warm gasp, and she turned her head towards its sound, seeing Jimmy standing just inside the door to the kitchen. He came towards her urgently, as if he feared her disappearance into thin air if he didn't touch her quickly enough.

He took both of her hands in his, pulling her up from her chair, where she'd sat again, so that they were eye to eye. His irises had a luminescence to them, a miniature halo of shine, making their milky chocolate color seem almost prismatic. There was a tender empathy there and the love he had for her was at the forefront of his expression; adorned on his lips as he kissed her, on his hands as he touched her, and in his muscles as he held her close.

"I would never stop loving you, or love you any less. You have to know that you're my whole heart, Stephy Bear. You do know that, right? You and our baby, now."

Struggling to emotionally find her footing against the strong current of awes pushing her further away from any coherent thought, Stephanie sighed. She remembered the first time he'd called her Stephy Bear.

It was a few months ago, close to Christmas, and she'd decided to go out for one last Christmas cocktail with the girls before the holiday hoopla was kicked into overdrive and the pubs would be packed with two types of people; the distressed mothers with a shopping list miles long, set on giving up on Christmas tradition altogether, because they couldn't find that be-all-end-all present their children had been heavily hinting about, the 'hint' being that it was the only thing written in all capitals with twenty exclamation points following it; and the complying gold-star husbands, goading the bartender into making many rounds of stronger drinks, because it would be the only way they'd get through the holiday season with their insufferable in-laws and their problematic attitudes.

She could remember wearing this little black number she'd gotten in a trendy shop in downtown London, pairing it with a crème buttoned coat that went down to her knees and boots that fully covered her calves. He'd seen her and told her that she looked hot before she left, and in response to his blandishment, she left a red imprint of her mouth on his cheek, and the scent of her perfume in his nostrils.

DJ being DJ made them promise to cap it at three drinks per person, but even before the restriction was put in place, she knew she wanted to have a hell of a lot of fun that night. And limiting herself wasn't going to allow her to do that. So she wouldn't. And didn't.

A couple hours later, the three of them were dancing obnoxiously to Abba and Michael Jackson, jean jacket-clad in their minds and singing loudly, with sharp high notes, in their hearts. The booths and tables beside them weren't filled with people, though it was considerably busier than they'd anticipated, and Stephanie suddenly couldn't control her flailing limbs as they crashed into others, the rhythm she'd possessed naturally as a dancer no longer there. Total inebriation had stolen it from her, waved it in front of her face, but far enough away so that she couldn't get a hold of it, taunting her. Her intoxication mocked her, as her brain admonished it for making her say foolish, stupid things. Things she'd regret tomorrow. But it didn't stop.

This led to DJ and Kimmy shouldering practically her entire body weight when they left the pub and then again when they got out of the cab and walked up their driveway, slowly, careful not to jostle her too much.

She was surprised to see him there, sitting on the couch. She couldn't help but want to scold him for it. So she did, because roughly five glasses of wine and four shots of vodka were surging through her blood, and with them she felt careless, too invincible to give a fuck about what was right and what was wrong.

"What is a Gibbler doing on my couch?"

His smile faded then at her tone, and what replaced it was a confused arch of his eyebrows, which funnily enough made him look years her junior, like a teenage boy.

"Steph, I – you told me to wait here for you. I'm staying over tonight, remember?"

Crossing her arms, she shook her head. "And why are you staying here? With me? Presumably in my bed?"

Jimmy, it seemed, had only one response to that, a response that, for some reason which was ludicrous in the moment but looking back made complete and total sense, an actual term defining committed couple cohabitation.

"We're dating. We've been dating for over a year now." He stopped. "Are you…okay? Are you drunk?"

"Bingo, little boy!" she exclaimed, a choppy laugh bubbling from her lips, stopping just as abruptly as it started.

"But seriously, Kimmy. Just leave me here, because I need to sleep or I'll die. Deej, where are the best nephews ever because I wanna kiss them all goodnight! There's Jackson, Max and Tommy and Cosmo. All four of them."

"Cosmo's the dog," Kimmy said, rolling her eyes and dropping Stephanie's arm, sending her half sprawling towards the couch. Without her sister holding up her other arm, she'd be there already, right next to Kimmy's younger brother.

"Come on Steph," DJ cooed, forever the level-headed, calm motherly type, attempting to drag her drunk ass to bed. "Let's get you a glass of ice water." Or not.

"Okay, but for real you guys, what is Jimmy Gibbler doing here?"

"Stephanie, for the second time, you two are in a loving, exclusive, and because you're really drunk and so I'm banking on you not remembering this, disgustingly affectionate, relationship."

Stephanie stuck her tongue out, mimicking the one of many faces she'd make at or along with DJ's middle child, Max, (and her favorite, but that's a secret), when he was not feeling well, or just generally unhappy. It always made him laugh, or at least crack a smile, but now, it held a different purpose of expressing her disbelief and slight disgust at the mere notion of dating, let alone kissing Jimmy Gibbler.

"We are not."

"Oh yes you are. You, Stephanie Tanner, are dating Jimmy Gibbler, the sweet, caring, sensitive one of the family. And let me say that you two are beyond annoying, but also beyond adorable," Kimmy told her, pushing the glass of water DJ had set down a minute ago towards her. "Sober up honey, you'll remember."

Despite the scepticism she was feeling, Stephanie drank the water anyways, figuring it wouldn't hurt to flush the alcohol out of her system, because the height of her drunkenness was wearing off, and a debilitating exhaustion was setting in, hammering its presence into her skull, like a surprise hangover that ambushes you, coming with a vengeance you hadn't known them to possess, the afternoon after.

After having another glass, only because she was pestered relentlessly by her sister, she could barely sit up, swept into the spinning tornado of combined nausea and tiredness. With her vision becoming blurry, she almost didn't register somebody picking her up and wrapping her legs around their hips like they would a young child. She saw masculine shoulders, distinctive from a woman's only because they were a slightly sturdier build, and a funky printed dress shirt. Jimmy.

"Wait, Gibbler. Where are we going?"

She could feel the vibrations of his laughter. "To bed, Steph. Just go with it, okay?"

She didn't have the energy or persistence it took to fight with him about it. "Okay. But just this once. Never again. And you are not getting a kiss goodnight."

Again, Jimmy laughed. "You're adorable when you're drunk. Funny, too."

"Am not," she argued, just for the sake of arguing, because as she knew it, and what she could remember from her childhood, arguing with a Gibbler was what it took to be a part of the Tanner family, or at least, in DJ's case, contesting their general presence in the house or elsewhere every once in a while, because usually wherever they were, they were assumedly unwelcome, if not obviously, then it was definitely thought.

"You are." For one reason or another, she craved a response from him and fought to get one. "You're adorable when you're drunk. And funny."

"Actually, I'm not. I'm a sloppy drunk. And you can attest to this, sweetheart. I know you've seen it. Remember, the Halloween party Ramona and Jackson had for all of their teeny bopper friends? I tripped over the sill of the sliding back door and fell face first into the wet grass?"

She giggled quietly but all she was thinking about was his use of the phrase 'teeny bopper' and how it dated them, in comparison to all the other descriptors he could have used.

"I can't believe you just said that."

"What?"

"Teeny bopper."

"Teeny bopper?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Stephanie sighed, laying her head on his shoulder, finding it strangely comfortable. How annoying.

"Because it makes me think about The Bangles and Monopoly and when a game of truth or dare was like 'I dare you to squirt a whole can of whipped cream in your mouth' and not a competition to see who could get the closest to death by being stupid. It just takes me back, that's all."

"Me too. My mom would tease Kimmy when she'd put on her stripper eyeshadow, that blue sparkly stuff, and call her a rebelling teeny bopper who's going off the rails, and she'd turn to me and tell me to stop growing."

"My dad had Michelle, so he never really worried about me growing up. And DJ was his first born, so of course he got all crazy when she did all that stuff. Not me though. Not as much."

"Awe Steph," Jimmy murmured, running his hand down the back of her head, and it wasn't until her eyes shut that she realized it was supposed to be a soothing mechanism, and that her speech was slurred with the fading of consciousness, and that she actually felt comfortable, flushed with an attraction that came from offside. "I'm going to put you down now, okay?"

She hadn't noticed until now, but they were in her bedroom and the door had been shut. Her bed looked so warm and inviting, beckoning to her with its quilted hand, humming the words 'sleep Stephanie…' across the small distance between them, like a wood burning fire in the dead of winter, like a freshwater lake in the tail end of spring. Something so tempting.

Except her stupid dress was still on. It didn't matter how desperate she was for sleep to take her. She wasn't sleeping in that. Except she had no energy to take it off. She had no control over her body anymore and what little of it she may have had before was in the heavy clutches of paralyzing exhaustion.

"Jimmy could you, maybe –"

She felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks, but somehow could tell it wasn't there because he was undressing her. It was there because of the anticipation of him undressing her. It wasn't embarrassment that warmed her skin, it was a small, hot rush of excitement.

"Is that better?" he asked when she was down to her bra and underwear.

"Much. Thank you."

She curled up underneath the covers, but right away felt an absence. A tingle that zinged down her spine and a flurry of hyperactive butterflies when he touched her shoulder in a bid of goodnight, told her all she needed to know. This time, it wasn't so annoying.

"Hey, Jimmy? Wait. Stay here with me, would you? I –um – have this feeling I don't sleep as well alone anymore."

He chuckled. "Well considering the facts, I'd say that's pretty accurate. It's like I don't remember what sleeping without you is like. For the last year and a half, you've been curled against my chest, your hair up in that bun, and still to this day, I don't know how it doesn't give you a total headache."

He kissed her head as he climbed in next to her, and she found herself almost automatically relaxing against him, but there was a part of her, and she felt it strongly, that wanted to be that close to him.

"I don't know, it just doesn't. If my hair's down, it itches me and gets in the way. Speaking of which, there's –"

Jimmy reached over towards the nightstand, fisting the elastic in his palm.

"An elastic band on the nightstand, right next to your reading glasses and chap stick, because your lips get dry no matter the time of year."

"Wow. Yeah," Stephanie said, allowing him to pull her hair up off of her shoulders.

"Stephanie, I know you. Just accept that, okay?"

He kissed the back of her neck after finishing her hair, tying the elastic around it two times, so it wasn't too loose at one, but not too tight at three, either. Impressive.

"Yeah, well I know that you love Lucky Charms but hate Alphabets, and that you can't watch the news before bed because you're convinced it gives you second hand PTSD, even though I keep trying to tell you that that's not a real thing.

"And I know that one time, when you were fourteen, you drove your brother's car into the mailbox when you were trying to back it out of the driveway. And when your mom got home and saw what happened, she made him pay for the damages, because even though you were the one who wrecked his car, he was the one who asked you to move it across the street, because he was too lazy to do it himself when she asked."

She hadn't known what convinced her to say those things. Or what area of her brain knew those things. But she did. "And I also know that there's at least one thing you don't know about me."

He was silent for a minute. Then two. And then she thought he may have fallen asleep, before he finally said something. "What's this? I've never noticed it before."

It was a wonder why she hadn't registered the sensation earlier, his fingertips delicately tracing her ribcage, but now that she had, her breath caught in her throat. "I was going to say you don't know that I once smoked a cigarette."

Jimmy stopped his hand, lying his palm flat on her bones. "Girl's bathroom, sixth grade. Peer pressure."

"Damn," she cursed, and then, as he kissed her neck again, "I was drunk."

"Just like you are now?"

"Just like I am now," she answered, although she realized then the words had little truth to them because the slow set-in of sobriety was beginning; her headache was letting up, the dizziness was disappearing, and she felt confident enough to walk to the bathroom, but was just too lazy to prove it.

He resumed in his fascination with her skin, drawing lines over its gauntly vampire hue, the hot weather having yet to work its magic, because Jimmy's favorite strapless black bikini was still buried in her drawer under mounds of underwear, bras, and socks. She could feel him making his way from one rib to the other, and circling there. "It's a bear."

"Not just any bear. It's Mr. Bear. Don't you see the trench coat and hat?"

"Oh, yeah…" He chuckled and that embarrassed her. Oddly enough, she hadn't been defensive when he'd first seen it, allowing him to take it in, in all its glory, but now, she was. Pulling away from his embrace, and his violating fingers, she curled into herself on the opposite side of the bed.

"It's adorable, sweetheart," he said, at the same time she blurted: "I was drunk and missing my mom, okay? It was her fortieth birthday."

Jimmy didn't allow for the societally agreed upon silence that tributes a tragedy, because he hated pauses, awkward or otherwise. He was a Gibbler who loved to gab, even if only to fill the void that others would be afraid to, in case of saying the wrong thing.

"Oh man, Steph. That's rough. But I mean it, it looks cute on you. Cuter than cute."

He leaned over to kiss it and murmured something under his breath. Something she couldn't hear. Only feel. When she asked him to repeat it, she wasn't sure he'd even heard her, but he did anyway, seeming to marvel in the words he spoke the same way he did her tattoo.

"My little Stephy Bear."

Stephanie almost felt like crying but held it in. She pulled his face up to hers by his hair, gently, and when he made eye contact with her, his expression was kind, soulful. She pressed her mouth to his, and when he wrapped his arms around her waist the best he could and laid them back down, she felt cocooned, safe and protected, like a caterpillar changing soon into a butterfly. It was a vulnerability that she couldn't shake by changing the subject, or putting the focus onto someone else; she could feel him in form in the most guarded of places: deep within the veins of her beating heart.

Right now, his kiss, his love for her, was what sustained her consciousness in this world. It felt like, to her, that they'd known each other for even longer than they've had lives, although the logical side of her knew that wasn't possible. When he mumbled it against her lips again, she felt its accent of affection on her tongue.

"I love you, Stephy Bear."

As he drew random shapes with his fingers along her back, she could feel herself falling asleep and "I love you too" were her last words before her hand went slack while clutching his cheek.

Stephanie shook her head, pulling herself out of the reverie. That same crushing vulnerability came over her again, and for a frightening moment, she thought that maybe her mojito had alcohol in it after all, her own mistake. But then she remembered it was DJ who'd made the mojitos, and she'd given her a wink when she'd given Stephanie hers. Stephanie Judith Tanner was never vulnerable. At least, not when she could help it. It was annoying. Jimmy Gibbler was annoying.

The fact that he was calling her that nickname was physically killing her. It made her think of her tattoo of Mr. Bear on her ribcage, it made her think of him touching it, asking questions about it, and then, the two of them, making out in the shadow of the trees ricocheting off the glass of her window pane; the moonlight making her, an emotional mess of a woman, who's a little drunk, look like a fairy tale princess locked away in the tower, and he, the prince who'd come to save her, from herself.

"I do know that," she whispered faintly, sighing as he hugged her close. "I do."

When he looked at her with wide, pleading eyes, there was something childlike about it, and she found herself envisioning a little boy – their little boy – staring up at her five years from now, hoping for a cookie before dinner or to be exempt from a timeout. "Please, Mommy, pretty pleeeease?"

This thought wasn't perverse, it wasn't how she'd meant it. Not at all. What she saw when she looked at Jimmy, begging silently for her to understand, was his boyishness and within that boyishness, suddenly she could see their son, with the same ruffled hair, same goofy, innocent grin, talking a thousand miles a minute. It made her smile.

Just as quickly as the image appeared to her, as if bestowed upon her by an oracle or some god, it disappeared, and she just saw Jimmy again, a soft smile shaping his mouth in response to hers.

"Now give me a Gibbler Nibbler," she said, biting her bottom lip as he laughed and rubbed his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss.

Just as she parted her lips, readying herself for a deep kiss, that left little to the imagination of their audience, he bent down, and she found herself protesting this, that is, until his nose was pressed into her stomach.

"What are you doing? All I wanted was a kiss!"

She watched as he Eskimo kissed her belly, though this one was teeming with a different type of affection, a fatherly affection, she realized, and knew that this would keep happening, that she would get taken aback by the surprise of it, the miracle of it, at least for eight more months; until the day she held her baby, her child, her flesh and blood, hers and Jimmy's, in her arms. If she were to be honest with herself, it would probably keep happening way past that, growing, and much too quickly for her liking, into bursts of overwhelming emotion – an overflow of tears at every birthday, right in front of their friends, or an outpouring of cuddles and kisses, also right in front of their friends, on any given day, at any moment.

"Oh," she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. "Did you just give our baby a Gibbler Nibbler?"

"Of course. Only people who I love and who are awesome get them. Our child will never go without them. A Gibbler Nibbler solves everything. As you've shown me," he winked and she giggled, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

"They sure do, babe. But can I have a kiss now please?"

"You sure can. A real good one too because you were patient."

She began to laugh, but his mouth obstructed the noise, and sinking into his kiss and body were as effortless an action as breathing, their tongues coming together the same natural way best friends linked arms as they walked beside one another, both appreciating the other person and the love between them, given and received.

When they broke apart after a moment too long, he lingered there, his nose being the last part of him that touched her, along with the breath of his words: "I love you. So much."

"I love you too," she said as quietly as he had.

"Jimmy, I'm awesome, right?" Kimmy asked her brother.

Stephanie snickered. "Can I answer this?"

"Zip it Tanner," Kimmy said, then, to Jimmy. "Seriously. We have the same DNA. If you're awesome, then by the definition of DNA, I'm awesome, too."

"That's the definition of biology, and I don't think awesomeness is a genetic quality," DJ told her, and Stephanie laughed.

"What are you getting at here, Kimberly?"

Kimmy bristled at the use of her given name and glared at her, the exact reaction Stephanie was hoping for.

"Well, Stephanie, I just wondered. Because if I am in fact awesome, and I'm loved, which is practically an obligation because I'm his sister, then I should be in recede of a famous Gibbler Nibbler. It's my name too, after all."

This time, it was DJ who laughed. "Kimmy, it's in receipt of, not recede."

"Like a receipt from the grocery store. Not like Uncle Jesse's hairline," Stephanie said, watching Becky hide her laughter behind her hand as Jesse fixed her with a withering stare.

"Well, whatever. Same thing," Kimmy shrugged. "But the point is, I'm feeling left out here."

"Kimmy, the first time you saw Jimmy give me a Gibbler Nibbler, you told me we literally were not the cutest. I saw your face. You were weirded out. And the next time you were mocking how Jimmy and I did it."

"Oh. You heard that? I totally thought I was in the clear because you two were so into each other that you hadn't even registered what I said. Seriously. And yeah, I was mocking you – and you hated it – but you guys really are annoying. But also sweet. And I like sweet. "

"Mom," Ramona cut in, before Stephanie could reply. "I love Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Stephanie as much as everybody else here – and Auntie DJ." She stopped for a beat, then continued, seeming to find her stride again, and Stephanie wondered why she'd done that in the first place.

It was almost like she'd caught herself saying something she shouldn't have, and thought about how to make people forget she'd said it, or at least distract them from it. Just like the time she swore in front of Max; she stubbed her toe on the edge of the couch, and what came out of her mouth was a small intake of air through her teeth and a pain-stricken, apt, though not appropriate, fuck. She'd seen Max standing there a few seconds later, and grinned, striking up a lame conversation about dinosaurs that for some reason had him riveted, and the thought of telling his mom about when Ramona hurt herself and swore in front of an eight year old was way away from his mind.

Stephanie though, couldn't shake the small pause in Ramona's speech before she conversely moved on. 'Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Stephanie' pause and Auntie DJ pause

"– resume But I don't want one of those. And I never will, because I don't know, just like, touching noses with another person is weird, it just feels weird, you know?" Ramona shivered. "Forget it."

It seemed like DJ noticed Ramona's odd dialogue pattern too, because she shot Stephanie a look, as if to say: 'huh? What was that about?'

According to DJ, Ramona hadn't called her Auntie since she'd politely requested that Kimmy stopped calling her Peanut when she was ten years old. So clearly, it was weird for her to be doing it now.

"Mom, I'm sure if you really wanted one, Uncle Jimmy would give you one. But you'll regret it. Trust me on this."

"It's true Kimmy. I mean, not that you'll regret it, because I'm a pro at Gibbler Nibblers – they're my thing, after all, but it's true that I'll give you one. Just one though."

"Okay, this conversation is turning down a really weird path…like one we should only be taking if we've all had like four glasses of wine. Each. It's The Road Not Taken."

Jimmy chuckled, turning to look at her, and winked. "You can only have one, sister of mine, because the rest are reserved for this sweetheart of mine."

She giggled, and then turned away from him, physically encroaching in on Kimmy now.

"You wanted one, now come get one," she said to the other woman, but Kimmy began backing away to her amusement, then Jimmy joined in on the taunt.

"My nose is ready when yours is."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ramona visibly cringe and DJ cover her mouth, watching, like the rest of them, with expressions of barely contained laughter.

"Okay, I take it back. I take it back!" she began to squeal as Stephanie got closer, and Kimmy was now blocked in by the countertop. "Besides, you're not even a Gibbler yet so you're not licenced to be giving them and Stephanie just get your nose out of my face or I swear to – "

Stephanie backed off, confused. 'What's that supposed to mean? I'm not a Gibbler yet?' And Ramona calling me Aunt Stephanie? But she called DJ her aunt too, so maybe it was just a slip in the moment? A generalization? It's weird.'

It may have been weird, but no matter how so, in true Stephanie Tanner fashion, she didn't ask about it. She'd wait until it was brought up by someone just as observant. Nobody said anything. In fact, everyone was strangely quiet. It seemed like the fun had stopped.

"Let's just say you said uncle," Stephanie said, then, to change the subject because she didn't want to dwell on it anymore, "is anybody else still starving? Or is that just me?"

Everybody laughed.

"Nope. Just you, Steph," Kimmy said and she sighed, staring longingly at the leftover patties on the plate, which sat on the counter a mere few inches from where she stood right now.

"Ugh. I'm gonna get so fat," she moaned, begrudging her lack of willpower. "I didn't even say no to a couple scoops of ice cream when I wasn't pregnant."

"Don't even start," DJ told her. "Do you even realize –"

"Of course I do," Stephanie said, palming her stomach, feeling Jimmy's hand there now, too. "I'm so lucky – we are so lucky – and this baby can make me gain fifty pounds, I don't even care, so long as it's healthy."

A/N: It's me again! Please let me know what you think! :) It is, in case you haven't already figured that part out, a multi-chapter fic! :)