a/n: Running on stress and sadness. Dollface may take a while... did someone say twins? Here you go.

He's holding two little bundles, with two little pink hats.

Under one hat is a bright blonde golden curl, that matches her father's hair. Under the other little pink hat is a dark brown patch, very thin, but prominent and beautiful.

She feels happy, but everything is fuzzy. He takes slow, careful steps around the room. His eyes shift back and forth between the babies.

Their babies.

And that makes her feel happy.

"This is really cool," he says. "My hair, and your hair, and they're both so beautiful."

He brings them closer to her. Things are still very foggy. She tries to push that feeling away.

She pulls the hat away, revealing the golden curl. She presses her lips into it, but there's no feeling. She pulls the baby into her. Everything feels really really fake.

That's when she startles awake.

Her arm is wrapped around her, twisted behind her head. Her fingers are locked up in his curls. She feels tension on her new shorter hair, and realizes he too has his fingers wrapped in her hair.

She takes a deep breath and sighs.

Yeah, dating for four months and already dreaming about having kids with this man.

But how she loves him. Yes, l-o-v-e. And how freaking cool would it be to have those beautiful little girls with contrasting hair colors. Is that even genetically possible?

She spends a moment trying to convince herself that her dream is a product of sleepy hair tugging and her new 'do, but she can't. Because there's an ache in her lower belly now, and she wants to hold a little warm being to her chest.

There's no way in hell that they're ready for kids. She's never even fully considered it an option. But now...

Now she's going to have a rough time sleeping.

She turns her head slightly, and watches his nose twitch wildly. Yes, yes, yes.

As she watches his peaceful sleep, she feels his fingers tighten around her hair, and she wonders what he's dreaming about. She wonders if he's ever dreamed about their baby's hair. Or babies' hair.

Maybe he'll tell her in the morning. Maybe someday, she'll tell him about her dream. But not today. Not yet.

With his fingers slowly letting her hair go, she presses a very, very light kiss into his scarred wrist, rests her head on her pillow and closes her eyes. She hopes she can find her dream again. She likes it more than she'll admit.

She wants to hear his adoring voice call their girls beautiful and perfect again. She wants to feel his eyes proudly looking at them as his pride and joy.

She doesn't understand why, because really they aren't ready for anything like this. But it sounds like the happy ending they both deserve. Little humans that are his and hers in a flawless, indescribable way.

Maybe she could tell him about her dream. Maybe. At least about the hair thing.

Obviously hair is important when it comes to them.

He'll see through that though, and they'll have to talk about things.

But maybe, if this dream is really as good as it makes her feel, these are things that are worth talking about.