Had originally tossed this ongoing story to the side temporarily to focus on the final chapter of "From Above". But I've been in baby mode since my niece was born three weeks ago, so decided to jump back into it. Enjoy!

June 2014

"Alright, Pooh Bear, I'm here," said Tracy as she burst into Ted's apartment.

She found her boyfriend sitting on his couch, clutching two (eek, very flashy) button-down shirts to his chest, a conflicted look on his face.

"Oh, thank God you're here!" he cried with relief, looking up at her helplessly. "I can't make these decisions on my own. I need your help, baby—desperately!"

Tracy had received a call from Ted 20 minutes earlier, frantically pleading with her to come help him empty out his closet. He was moving into her apartment in a couple of weeks, and he was—surprisingly—having more trouble scaling down his wardrobe than she had hers.

"Don't worry," she now assured him soothingly (because a warm, comforting tone was truly essential when he was in such a state), grabbing his hand and pulling him off the couch. "This is going to be easy."

Tracy took the two shirts from Ted's hands, already knowing very well the fate of the two items, and he followed her up the stairs to the second floor.

"Ok, so this is what we're going to do," she began as they walked into Ted's bedroom, gently pushing him down onto the bed. "I'll go through your closet. And if there's something that I haven't seen you wear in the past year we've been together, it's going into the donation pile." She tossed the two first casualties onto the bed for emphasis.

Ted stared at her pointedly. After a brief pause: "That's a horrible idea."

"Um, actually, I think it's the best and most logical way to organize your wardrobe," she retorted, as it was how she successfully cut down hers by 50%. "Now, let's do this, huh?"

He began to protest, balking at her method, but she ignored him as she turned to face his closet, filled to the brim and clearly untouched. She sighed.

This is going to be a long process.

Tracy reached in and pulled out a couple of argyle sweaters, that he clearly mustn't have worn since the mid-2000s. She gave him a disapproving look.

"Donate!" she announced, playfully throwing them at his head.

"But I look good in argyle!" he said defensively, holding on to the shirts. "I swear I'll wear them! They'll look great under my harris tweed jacket!"

She just ignored him and continued to rummage through his closet. Tracy made quick work of his clothes (as I always do—mental five!), tossing out a slew of dated pieces that she had never seen him wear before, as well as a few that she simply never (ever) wanted to see him wear. And she took the opportunity to also throw out a couple of items she'd always hoped to "accidentally" shrink in the wash.

Her boyfriend made the occasion peep of protest every time she threw out a piece of clothing his way—a ratty sweatshirt here, a hideous printed shirt there—but mostly remained quiet. He did ask Tracy for help and trusted her judgment, after all.

She mostly loved his wardrobe so, really, she didn't do too much damage—whether casual or dressy, Ted truly had a sense of style that Tracy appreciated and was very much attracted to. Some items also had sentimental value to Tracy—the sweater he wore on their first date, her favorite green checked shirt that brought out the warm brown of his eyes, his soft blue hoody that he wore on more casual days, which she loved borrowing occasionally. These, she would never be able to part with.

After 45 minutes of picking at his closet (and Ted letting out the occasional sob), his wardrobe had been scaled down significantly that Tracy was satisfied it would all fit into the space she had already reserved in her closet for his stuff.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, Tracy beamed as she looked over at Ted, who was glumly pushing the giant pile of clothes aside on the bed. From the look in on his face, he clearly wasn't as happy as she was.

Tracy may have felt a tad bit sorry for him, but she was having way too much fun.

"Ok, let's tackle shoes now!" she said rather excitedly, sitting down on the floor to get better access, already eyeing a pair of stinky suede Pumas.

"Fine," Ted said with a sigh, slinking down off the bed and crawling next to her.

Tracy gave him a kiss, thanking him for being a good sport in all this. "This will be significantly less painful," she assured him, pulling out a couple of pairs of scuffed-up shoes and handing them over to him.

Ted chuckled, probably for the first time since the whole ordeal began. "Hey, whatever. As long as it brings us closer to living together, I'll deal with the pain," he admitted, shooting her an excited grin.

Her stomach fluttered; it was all becoming so official, she realized. Over a year ago, she had just broken up with Lewis—a guy she couldn't 100% open up her life and home to—and now, with Ted, moving in with him was just the easiest and most right thing to do. And she was just as excited as he was to jump into this next phase of their relationship.

But before that could happen, she had some shoes to do away with first!

She gave him a sweet smile, conveying her own excitement, before turning her head back towards the task at-hand, spotting a large shopping bag all the way in the back of the closet.

"Mosby, have you been hiding stuff from me?" she chided, teasing, reaching in to grab the paper bag.

Ted's eyes widened in horror. "No, wait—"

Tracy peered into the bag, readying herself for a secret pair of red cowboy boots. (His friends had warned her about them.) But no. What Ted was hiding in the bag was...

"Onesies?" Tracy asked out loud, picking up a tiny Cleveland Browns one-piece. But there were more onesies. And baby footie pyjamas. Even baby socks. So many socks, with duckies and stripes and even a pair with tiny strawberries on them. They were all rather adorable. But not something she expected to find in the dark recesses of Ted Mosby's closet.

She looked up at him, eyes wide and eager to know. While his face was red with embarrassment, seemingly ashamed that she stumbled upon something that he evidently didn't want to be found, Tracy wanted to make sure he knew she was not judging. She was just really damn curious.

"Ted, what's all this?" she asked softly, thinking that he had maybe just picked up a few gifts for Daisy or even her nephew, Christopher. But that couldn't possibly explain why he looked as if he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

"Um," he began, struggling to grasp for the right words. "I was just—"

"Babe, it's me you're talking to," she said, offering a gentle smile. Because they weren't the kind of couple who kept their feelings and thoughts and fears from one other. It was brutal honesty and transparency right from the get-go; not to the extent of Marshall and Lily (Tracy didn't need to know what Ted had for lunch that day, unless he had gone to Tulcingo's for tacos without her... again), but close.

Ted sighed. "I don't know," he admitted, nervously running his hand through his hair, his cheeks still pink. "Over the years, every time I would walk into a kids' store and see something cute, I just... pictured my own kid wearing it. Someday. And I guess I just got ahead of myself, stocking up on clothes, hoping for that someday. You know?"

Oh, she knew.

Tracy knew baby-brained Ted very well, and she adored him. She would see how he was with babies, whether he was holding Marvin and Daisy, or even her nephew. And when babies would look up at Ted in the subway, he always gave tiny waves and made funny faces to elicit a smile or a laugh. He unabashedly loved kids; and it was no surprise he wanted them. Tracy didn't need to see a bag full of baby clothes to confirm it.

This find did come at a pivotal time in their relationship, though. They were about to live together; marriage and kids would likely come soon after. They've dicussed children, of course—fantasized about how many they would like to have, dreamed up their top five baby names—but this bag was something tangible, and full of possibilities.

"Plus," he added now, pulling out a pair of yellow socks from the bag, thumbing the dotted grip underneath. "Sock."

"Sock," she echoed, looking down at the tiny pieces of cotton, so small in Ted's large hands, stirring something inside her. She took one adorable sock from his fingers so that they now each had one.

She could picture Ted as a father, so vividly, in fact. She'd seen how he'd taken on the role of Uncle Ted. But he was now ready to move beyond that role.

And, really, she was done simply being Aunt Tracy, too.

"Tell you what," she began, eyes briefly darting back into the bag, eyeing the Browns onesie and thinking their kid would need to wear something showcasing a winning team. "Bring this bag with you when you move, what do you say?"

Ted beamed. "Sounds like a plan."

END