A/N: Hey guys, another hurt/comfort ish thingamawhatever here. Fills an anonymous request on tumblr.

Let me know whether you like it or not, because I'm bad at this sort of thing. Also if you want to pitch in on some ideas or whatever/request something, you can drop an ask on my tumblr or wherever I have an inbox. Thanks for any support you've given me throughout this bizarrely satisfying endeavor - reading, reviewing, or anything else is super appreciated.

Enjoy!

It was the first day that Andy didn't go with April for her checkup, which was just another banal appointment where they'd both stare at a fuzzy black and white picture and nod when the doctor pointed at a small oval on the screen. They were supposed to be excited or something, but they usually just shrugged and went about their day as usual. Andy expected it to be another day of that and had accidentally scheduled a Johnny Karate gig at the same time as the appointment, but April didn't seem to care. So he went, played for a bunch of effervescent kindergarteners, and packed away his gear to go home. It was just a regular day, filled with the things in any other day – Andy spilled coffee on himself in the morning, a kid stuck a booger on one of his guitars, and April was probably at work not doing anything.

Thinking to himself how obviously ordinary and awesome the day would be, Andy was a little surprised to be pulling up next to April's car in the driveway. She probably just took the day off, he decided. Inside the house there wasn't any sound, so he assumed April just went back to sleep and Andy walked into the kitchen to finish off whatever take-out leftovers were stashed in the fridge. Before he could get there, however, he was confronted by April sitting at the small table in the kitchen, playing with a spoon in a cup idly and looking downcast.

"Hey, babe…" Andy tried, "get out of work early?"

April didn't say anything and instead stopped the circular motion with the spoon, standing up and walking over to him. Silently she moved her arms under his, put her head against his chest, and stood there hugging him. Unsure, he returned the hug and sat in the unusual position for a while. It had to have been a long time because Andy could feel his arms stiffen and his legs get sweaty from being stuck together and next to April for so long.

Detaching himself from her, he looked down trying to gauge the situation.

"What's wrong?" Andy asked, trying to meet her eyes. "You look super pissed. Did the new guy do something stupid again?"

"I'm not pissed," she answered quietly.

"Cool, then I'm gonna go sleep," Andy said, turning around and ready to move before he heard a sharp scoff behind him. "Or I won't, that's cool too."

"Can we sit down," April didn't let him answer, going into the living room and sitting up on the couch with her knees brought to her chest.

Andy followed, sitting next to her. If someone pointed a gun at his head and told him he had to figure out what was bothering April or he'd die, Andy figured there was a ninety-nine percent chance he'd be missing his head. Normally her general mood was uncaring or apathetic, but this was distant. April was never absent – she liked being there to catch people's mistakes and make fun of them, or suggest an outrageous idea on the incredibly off chance that someone would approve it.

"So…" Andy started.

"Andy you know what a miscarriage is, right?" April asked, staring at her hands. "You did read that far in one of the books, didn't you?"

"I think, isn't that, like, when the baby-" Andy struggled for the definition in his head, until April's look – that look, the one where she had to tighten her lips and look everywhere but at him – told him enough.

"The doctor said it's pretty common in the first trimester," she explained, rubbing her shins as some sort of activity to keep her brain from focusing on the words she said. "And that we won't really know what caused it for a while, or something."

Andy didn't know what to say that could have made it any better, and in fact he was pretty sure that anything he said would probably make everything worse, so he simply sat there with his arm slumped over her back. They were quiet for a while like that, and Andy didn't realize the importance of what she was saying for most of that – their kid was just gone. It had been so exciting and Andy was so ready to be a dad, but now he simply wasn't going to be.

"I guess it's, like, the universe telling us something," April put her head on his shoulder while she spoke. "It's telling me I'm not supposed to be a mom, I think."

"Oh come on, that's dumb," Andy chided her, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders with his other hand, "you'll be an awesome mom."

"Andy, a baby literally died in me. That's messed up," she explained, pulling away from him and looking a little offended, "and I think I was right. I'm so not capable of being a mother."

"You just said that we don't know why it happened," he countered.

"We don't know but I know, okay?" she said, but Andy didn't know – he was just super confused. "I knew it: I knew it wasn't going to work."

Andy tried to think of any different way that she'd know this, and when the most logical seemed to be that she'd been pregnant before he just pushed that into some dark corner of his brain where he'd burn it from sight forever. They sat like that for another brief moment, the two of them quiet. He wasn't equipped to handle this situation and Andy was afraid of them getting into an argument over it.

"Look, we can try again and, and…" Andy stuttered, not sure what he was supposed to say, "and that's the best we can do, I guess."

"What if I don't want to try again?" she asked in a small voice.

"Then… that's cool," he finally said, disheartened at the news. "It's not like I can make you have a baby."

"Really? Just like that, no kid?" April asked, "I thought it was on your bucket list or whatever that thing is anymore."

"I mean it sucks, but…" Andy trailed off, scratching his beard before finishing, "and I want you to know that you'd be a better mom than that Mother Theresa lady-"

"That's not-"

"We'd be the best parents, like, ever and I want that for us," he didn't let her interrupt his sentence, continuing unabated. "But if I have to, I'd rather be married to you with no kids than have kids with someone else."

Andy didn't like saying it and part of him wished she would change her mind on the spot, but when April gave him a brief smile and she stood up he figured it would have to do.

It had been another couple of months before people started asking her questions, wondering why she wasn't showing at least a little bit, and April dreaded telling anyone about the miscarriage. Andy nearly had a heart attack keeping the secret, but as far as April was aware he was keeping things under wraps for her. She had already hated herself when she saw a little disappointment in Andy's face in the morning, and now she was sitting with Leslie over lunch, getting ready to explain why her belly was still the same old same old.

"Leslie," April started, catching her when she bit into a waffle, "I need you to not freak out, and not tell anyone what I'm about to say."

"Okay," Leslie answered slowly, putting the mound of whipped cream back down, "so let's talk. What's up?"

"It's about the baby," she moved her hands in a circle around her stomach, unsure what else to do with her hands.

"Oh yeah, how's that coming along? Ron's almost done with the crib," Leslie was already too excited, and April couldn't stop her without just spitting it out, "and Ben already started a futures expense report on what you guys should look forward to money-"

"Leslie there's no baby," she said quickly. "I had a miscarriage two months ago, so let's just eat after having learned that and move on with our day."

There was a second where Leslie thought April was joking, because of course she would joke about something like that, but when April returned to her food and silently jabbed at a few pieces on her plate, she made a weird sound. Reaching out she grabbed April's unwilling hand and held it in one of hers. Still, neither of them actually said anything. April just wanted to leave and pretend that none of this was happening – she really didn't want to relive this conversation.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Leslie asked.

"Because I didn't want to?" April pulled her hand away and went back to her food. "Besides, it's fine. You're the one who said we weren't ready to be parents anyways, so it works out for everyone."

"Oh, stop it," she returned, clearly offended by the last remark, "I didn't mean you weren't ready to be parents, I meant… you weren't-"

"Ready to be parents? Yeah, that's what I remember," April interrupted. "It's fine Leslie, we're already over it. Andy and I already had a big talk about it, and we're just gonna not have kids or whatever."

Leslie made a 'tut' noise and bit her lip, concentrating on something. That was never good when April had already decided on something, since that meant more arguments were coming.

"But you guys were so happy to be parents," Leslie finally said, pulling a small album out of her purse. "See, Andy's in the middle of jumping over the permits counter here and you're actually smiling in a picture. Without giving it the finger."

"Why do you have that in your purse?" April asked, a little frightened.

"Doesn't everyone keep their one hundred most important memories in a photo album on them at all times?" Leslie sounded sincere.

"No, they usually just have a phone…" April was staring at the picture and Andy vaulting over the low counter, a dumb grin plastered on his face from ear to ear.

There were days she thought about reversing her decision, a couple nights they had sex she wondered if she shouldn't have taken any pills or let him even use a condom, but April always fought against it in her head. It was clear to her that day when she got the news that her body wasn't fit to house a child – she wasn't fit to be a mother in the purest, physical sense and that made sense to her. Then Andy came into the picture and made her doubt that altogether, nearly scrubbing it away over a few months but then she remembered the feeling on that day – an empty feeling in her chest and a sagging weight in the back of her mind, barely wanting to get out of bed the next day, and making Andy promise never to have kids with her.

"April, I'm sure you haven't thought this through," Leslie interrupted her, pulling the album away from her, "but I can't tell you what to do on this one."

"No, you can't," April bit her lip and wondered.

"I'm sorry, I won't bring this up with anyone," Leslie made a motion with her hands like she was closing a zipper on her mouth. "Secret's safe with me."

They ate without saying anything else, quietly finishing their food and returning to City Hall where April left her to go to the Parks offices herself. No matter what she tried, she couldn't that image of enthusiastic Andy leaping over that counter out of her mind. He was so pumped up by the news that day, and she was pretty sure he never simmered down for another month – every day high-fiving April before they went to work and trying his best to read the book that Leslie had forced onto them. They had both worked so hard, and were ready to work even harder for the kid when it finally dropped out of her.

She just couldn't get one image out of her head: Andy holding a baby in his arms and looking like his face would split in half from the smile.

The days gliding on by after that were strange to Andy. April was acting weird around him again, like something was bothering her, but he usually let it boil over before asking her about it – he usually had the thought to talk with her earlier and realized he was oftentimes too lazy or bored by the prospect of what they would talk about. After their talk some months before Andy had taken out his bucket list and marked off his wish about having a son, chalking that up to a lost cause. He believed what he said – they'd have a great life together just the two of them, so maybe having a kid would just ruin it for them.

He expressed that thought and was met with a begrudged agreement from April, who looked a little disappointed when he said that. If anything else was confusing to him in their life, that was an absolutely mystifying response to something they'd agreed upon already. He was just trying to sweeten the deal for her and it surprised him to get some amount of backlash.

These thoughts were running through his head when April asked him to sit down for something important. It was going to be another one of those talks, he thought, and Andy didn't want to have any misconceptions about where the conversation would inevitably end up.

"Andy, you know how we talked about not doing this… kid thing?" April asked.

"Yep," he replied shortly.

"Okay, how do you feel about that?" she continued. "Like, is that cool with you? Are you rethinking it, like, at all?"

"Nope, still not… into it," he put on the same fake smile when he finished.

"Right," April nodded, "so you're not, like, lying to me to try and make me happy? You really don't want a son so you can show him how to throw the perfect spiral?"

Andy thought about the list and checking off both of those things prematurely. He'd be lying if he said otherwise, but he also didn't want April to feel bad about the decision they'd made. So he stuck to his guns.

"No lies here," he turned around, "no regret whatsoever."

"Well what if I said I wanted to try again?" April said from behind him and, for a second there, he was sure his heart wasn't going to slow down from the adrenaline rush. "What would you say then?"

"Is this a test?" Andy spun back around quickly, making himself dizzy and requiring him to use the counter to stabilize himself, "like is this another one of those hypodermicals?"

"Hypothetical?"

"Yes, that," he nodded, pushing himself off the counter. "This is one of those isn't it?"

April shook her head quietly, crossing her arms. He didn't know whether that was the angry shake of disbelief or if that was supposed to be answer, so Andy continued standing there. It took a few awkward seconds of silence before she spoke up.

"No, it's not," April said, "I'm serious."

"Yes… I mean, no! I mean, uh, what made you change your mind?" Andy was perplexed, sentences spilling out haphazardly. "Yeah, I thought we were just gonna go back to the creepy twins plan."

"Well, I talked to Leslie… or I guess I didn't, I just looked at her weird obsessive photography collection," April shook her head before continuing. "Anyway, I guess we can try at least. Like, I think we'd be awesome as parents and we don't want to take that away from someone, or something."

"So, this is real? You're cool with it again?" Andy cautiously walked forwards, looking around the kitchen for something to give away her ruse.

"Yes it's real, Andy," she said, biting back a smile. "Plus I want to see how ugly our baby will be."

"Oh it's gonna be so gross," Andy said absentmindedly, looking into April's eyes as she nodded. "And yeah, let's go make a baby."

He grabbed her hand and dragged her across the kitchen. She started a protest, but he was way too big for her to actually break away from.

"Right now, seriously?" April shouted after him. "I mean, I'm game but-"

"But what? No thinking, just sex," he looked to her over his shoulder. Repeating slowly, he said, "No thinking-"

"Just sex," April finished, grinning. "And then a baby."

"Yeah, but the important part is that we didn't think," Andy picked her up when they made it to the bedroom, pushing her up against the wall so he didn't have to support her the entire time himself. "I hate that part."

"The worst," she mumbled, skimming his neck with her lips for a second before Andy couldn't remember which direction was which or why he wasn't wearing any pants anymore.