"Let's make a baby."
The suggestion made her choke on her scotch and soda. It came from nowhere, which was often the case when he had a little too much to drink, but usually his drunken suggestions made some sort of sense.
"Elijah," she laid her hand on his arm gently, "honey… You know that's not possible."
"I am well aware of our reproductive capabilities, Elena," he slurred, pulling her into his lap. "Any child we bring into this house will be adopted."
"Will be?" She cocked an eyebrow.
"Of course," he smirked, "but that doesn't mean we can't try more traditional methods."
His hands stole under her top. They had been married nearly a decade without mention of the subject, and she had to assume he was really thinking about it too because it was a strange line to try and get her into bed; especially when all he needed to do was look at her in that way.
She giggled and decided to table the heavy conversation for a time when he was sober.