Author's Notes: This is only half of the chapter I had planned, but Shane asked for a Valentine's Day update, so here you go. My apologies for any formatting weirdness. I uploaded this via my iPad and it sometimes tricks me into thinking line breaks are paragraph breaks or vice versa. I shall review and fix if need be when I get some computer time.

Tending to the infant's needs kept Fai occupied well enough for the next couple of hours that he made no more attempts to further the relationship Kurogane had somehow or the other agreed to start. It was speeding along bewilderingly quickly already in the shopkeeper's estimation, and he gladly let the blond take the lion's share of playtime with the little girl since it gave him some extra breathing room.

Not that he mistrusted his willpower and common sense all that much, but it did raise an eyebrow or two when he looked back over the last day and a half and saw how far from his original viewpoint he'd come. He'd never agree to such madness as getting engaged or promising to move in together within a few days of meeting, but he was definitely proving dangerously susceptible to Fai's wiles and ways, and couldn't say with any certainty that he'd still be on this side of the lines he'd drawn so far in the snow once the storm blew over. As the hotelier put it, he was good at getting under Kurogane's skin.

He wondered - in a mix of bemusement and trepidation - how attached he would find himself to the other man by the time it became necessary to part ways. He told himself firmly that the separation would be a good thing. It would take him out of this strange situation of being out of everything comfortable and familiar; his routine and his store, and the solitude that permeated his life. Trying not to anticipate the nightmares that would likely come to plague him again once he was sleeping alone suddenly made him think about reuniting the baby with her family, and along with the pang he couldn't suppress came the thought of being alone with the other blond he'd picked up.

If nothing else, they had a car ride together. He didn't want to make the drive to Mercy alone, especially with no better carseat for the infant than a laundry basket, and then Fai would very likely want to come back up the mountain with him to be dropped off again at his cabin. Kurogane would need to open up his store again as soon as possible, but perhaps Fai would stop by or they'd agree to still spend evenings together. (Not nights, no matter how much the blond whined or wheedled.) That seemed a good thing too, after a moment's consideration. The infant was not a component of the romance he was attempting, but she'd been an important, ever-present part of their interactions thus far. Seeing how he and Fai got along when it was just the two of them wasn't a bad idea. Thinking about the blond sent his present focus back to him, and Kurogane blinked when he realized that he was staring and being stared back at in turn.

"What?" he asked, frowning a bit and not just at having being caught (daydreaming) wool-gathering. Fai was seated cross-legged on the floor and gazing steadily at him despite having an armful of infant yawping at him for attention. Oddly enough, he also had a thoughtful little crease between his eyebrows as if pondering over a puzzle.

"Nothing," Fai replied in his first surprise at being so abruptly addressed, but then recanted. "Well, maybe something. I didn't catch it earlier but you heavily implied that your entire sexual history was encompassed in that one time you hardly remember."

"Yeah," Kurogane replied, his tone making it something of a question. So?

"But you said before that, that your first time was at seventeen."

"Right. First time, last time, same time," Kurogane clarified succinctly, impressed or perhaps flattered that Fai had actually been paying close attention to the details.

"And then you said you came home and opened your shop back up," Fai continued, still looking confused even though he seemed to have all his facts straight.

"What are you getting at?" Kurogane asked in budding exasperation.

"So...you were seventeen when you took over your father's store?"

"Yeah, so what? Teenagers can run businesses." With his father's blessing he'd opted to graduate early by taking the necessary exams so that he could effectively run the store on his parents' behalf. Pregnancy had been hard on his mother and his father increasingly distracted and busy about her. Kurogane hadn't been able to do much for his parents directly and so he'd done the only thing he could think of to do; take care of the business so that they could focus entirely on each other and the coming child.

He hadn't been ignored or shut out, of course. He was as much in the nucleus of the little family as he'd ever been, and hardly a day had gone by when one of his parents hadn't expressed their sense of pride and gratitude for what a kind-hearted, responsible and reliable son he was. And even under those circumstances, it had never been stated that Kurogane was locked in as the store's next long-term manager. He'd still been free to choose what he would for a career but he'd thought back then that he had all the time in the world to think of such things. And then, months later, his family was gone and the store was entirely his in fact instead of just practice, since his father had no other family or heirs to make claims.

But that was apparently not what Fai was so wide-eyed over after all.

"No, it's not that," the blond said, shaking his head. "I just...you told me yesterday that you'd been running the place for a few years."

"The point. Get to it."

"'A few' meaning...fifteen?" Fai asked, eyebrows quirked and tone indicating that he was expecting to be told otherwise.

"More like six," Kurogane replied, and then watched Fai's mouth drop open. Ruddy eyes dropped in turn to scrutinize the pale hands holding on to the baby, ready to lunge forward to grab her in case the blond's surprise loosened his fingers as well, not just his jaw. "Hey, watch her head."

Fai glanced down automatically and shifted his hands slightly to better support the squirming, warbling bundle but continued his own noise-making after only a slight pause.

"You are not twenty-three," he declared.

"Right. I'm twenty four," Kurogane replied absently, still suspicious of the hold the other man had on their little charge.

"How?!"

This ridiculous question finally dragged the shopkeeper's eyes back up, narrowing in some confusion of his own. He knew he was tall, but after one's mid-teens it wasn't as if greater height automatically equaled greater age.

"What do you mean, 'how'? I was born twenty four years ago. Why, how old are you?"
Fai snapped shut his mouth at this and pressed his lips tight as if afraid the truth would come flying out if he didn't exercise extreme vigilance. Kurogane snorted.

"Come on, our ages can't be that different," he pressed, curious now simply because Fai was acting so weird about it. "What, you actually are a vampire and you're about to hit three hundred?"

This got a light laugh and a shake of the head.

"No, not a vampire. Not a twenty-something year old either though." Fai's face twisted as a dark eyebrow quirked up. "So...how old would be a deal-breaker?"

He made a show of thinking it over for a few seconds and then replied, "Fifteen or younger."

"Be serious," protested Fai, in what Kurogane thought of as a classic example of pot to kettle.

"I'm serious pretty much all of the time, unlike someone I'm getting to know. I can't think of an upper limit to age where I'd suddenly say 'last year was okay but now you're too old'. If you're okay with how young I apparently am, I'm fine with however old you are."

Fai narrowed his eyes, squint-glaring suspiciously for a bit and then suddenly blurting, "I'm forty five." His tone was nothing less than aggressive, as if he was challenging Kurogane to a duel or just daring him to make something of it.

Both Kurogane's eyebrows went up this time at the declaration - if asked earlier he would have guessed high twenties at the most - and then he shrugged it off. Apparently Fai had unnaturally good genes or he spent a good chunk of his income on expensive skin creams and minor plastic surgery.

"Okay," he said calmly.

"What, that's it?" Fai asked incredulously. "Almost twice your age and you barely blinked? I grew up with completely different politics and music and-"

"You're a Fluorite," Kurogane interrupted, but his opinion of the other man had gone through so many revolutions that there was none of the accusation and disgust in his tone that he might have injected two days ago. "You'd have grown up in a different world than me even if we were born on the same day.

"I could start going grey tomorrow."

"Like I care?"

"Ten more years and I may start falling apart. My fingers could knot up with arthritis or I could start having heart problems."

"I'll open jars for you and replace your bacon with steel-cut oatmeal," Kurogane replied. After a second of thought he added, "I might do that anyway, actually. The oatmeal thing. You can open your own jars."

"I'll get old and saggy and you'll still be in your prime."

"Works out pretty well," Kurogane said, nodding to himself. "I'll still be fit enough to push your wrinkly old ass around in a wheelchair."

"I'll die and leave you all alone," Fai then said, looking truly upset now. He hadn't exactly been laughing all this time but his arguments had been more silly than serious in tone, but at this last idea he grew suddenly sober, as if being left behind in unhappy solitude was the one thing he couldn't joke about.

"Or I'll get hit by a car before I turn twenty-five and you'll be the one grieving," Kurogane suggested. "Seriously, can we stop? I don't give a crap how old you are."

Fai huffed at him and Kurogane just glowered back, or at least tried to. He was mildly amused at what a big deal the other man was making of this and couldn't quite get irritated enough to put the usual amount of ire into his glare. He was in fact surprised at - and not entirely believing in - the revelation of what an age gap there was between them, but even upon review he couldn't rightly say that it was off-putting enough to be an issue.

It could happen exactly as Fai was direly predicting. Things could work out and they'd spend years and years together, both eventually dying of old age and all its related ills and indignities, but with Kurogane spending almost half his life missing the partner he'd lost after too few years. But he didn't make decisions - or avoid them - based on such far-off what-might-be's. If his parents had done such a thing Kurogane might never have been born, after all.

"...you really don't care?" Fai asked, and his manner was still subdued. The hint of vulnerability in his quiet, hesitant question had the effect of bringing Kurogane down himself from scoffing sarcasm to something more serious himself.

"I really don't," he said simply, trying to sound reassuring instead of just impatient.

"Oh," Fai said simply, and then nibbled contemplatively on his lower lip for a moment before speaking again. "Well...I'm actually thirty eight."

"Okay," Kurogane replied with utter unconcern. From a practical standpoint he found himself glad that the age gap wasn't as wide as Fai had initially declared, because there had in fact been a bit of validity to the points the blond had been bringing up. Thirty eight was still a higher number than he'd thought, with his guess based half on looks and half on how the man acted, but he'd been perfectly honest when he'd said he didn't care.

"How are you real?" came the question then, light and laughing and tinged with a strange sort of incredulous relief. Kurogane rolled his eyes, heaving himself out of the chair he'd been relaxing in and dipping down toward the floor with his arms out in a silent demand for the infant. One hand took a quick detour, however, to give his host a good pinch on the arm.

"I'm real," Kurogane said dryly, and couldn't help grinning at the way that expressive upturned face went quickly from shock to comprehension and then an absolutely outrageous pout. He whisked the infant away before he could give into temptation to drop a not-very-apologetic kiss onto that protruding lower lip, and scoffed at the threats to call animal control.

"If your phone's working call the hospital instead, moron," he said over his shoulder, going to the nearest window to check on the storm. It was dark outside and difficult to tell if it was from still-thick clouds overhead or simply because it was pushing into late evening. Snow swirled persistently against the glass but after a moment of study he decided that it did look as if the storm might be lightening.

A faint exclamation and quick footsteps behind him told him that Fai was pattering off to check the phone in the kitchen and he turned around to call after the man.

"Your cell phone," he specified with a short sigh. The hotelier wasn't spoiled and stupid as he'd initially assumed, but still had large blind spots when it came to how things operated in the real workaday world. "They won't have gotten the land line fixed that quickly. Not with a storm on."

"Oh, right right," said Fai with a self-deprecating laugh, skidding to a halt on the carpet and patting himself down until he discovered which pocket he'd tucked his phone into last. Kurogane's guess about the storm wearing itself out proved correct, for Fai soon connected with someone and was chatting away with energy. The rush of friendly chat, detailed explanations and anxious questions soon died away into an unenlightening strin of comments such as "mm-hmm" and "I see".

Kurogane let his attention wander until the conversation ended and then looked toward his host inquiringly. The usually cheerful, open expression was drawn into a thoughtful frown and blue eyes were resting on the baby girl. They flicked upward soon enough to catch Kurogane's look, pulling the blond in close with a smile attempting to overtake the more sober expression.

"I really couldn't find out much more than what we'd already been told," he said, tone apologetic as if he was holding himself personally responsible for the lack of information.

"The young woman from the taxi hasn't woken up yet and they wouldn't tell me anything else since I'm not family. As for the baby, there's a detective who wants her to be brought back to Mercy Hospital to be given a check-up and then handed over to the police."
Kurogane mulled this over and soon found himself frowning as well and holding the little girl a little closer, as if worried that someone might materialize from behind a bookshelf, demanding that the infant be immediately remanded into protective custody.

"The police," he repeated. "Not her family."

"I don't think they know who her family is yet," Fai said softly, putting away his phone. "Or maybe they just can't tell me." He spoke to Kurogane but all his attention was on the infant. She leaned contentedly into the warmth of Kurogane's chest, blissfully ignorant of the drama coming into focus around her and the tenuousness of her current situation. The dark-haired man felt protective and possessive, and as if acting out Kurogane's emotions, Fai dropped a kiss to the top of her head and caressed her with an anxious look on his face.

"Poor kitten," Fai murmured, and then raised his face to look inquiringly at Kurogane. "How much longer do you think the storm will last?"

He glanced automatically back toward the nearest windows but couldn't see any better than a few minutes ago.

"Not sure," Kurogane replied. "It seems to be lightening up though, so maybe it'll blow over soon. Another day, maybe."

"But it could get worse again?" Fai suggested, and for some reason he sounded hopeful over the possibility.

"How should I know? I'm not a meteorologist."

"Well, and even if the storm clears up tonight it'll still take a while for the road to be cleared, right?"

Kurogane thought he could see where the blond was leading and quirked an eyebrow up as he cautioned the other man.

"We can't keep her like she's actually a stray kitten, you know."

"I didn't say I wanted to keep her," Fai replied, in a tone heavily implying that that was exactly what he wanted to do. "I'm just pointing out that there's no reason we have to brave the elements and a road that's already proven dangerous in order to rush her into foster care."

Kurogane had nothing to really say against that, since it fitted neatly with his own opinion on the matter, but Fai kept talking as if he had to argue the taller into seeing his point.

"If there was an anxious, loving mother on the other end of the line it would be a completely different matter," Fai continued. "But there isn't. There's just a police officer and some overworked person from Social Services with God only knows what kind of foster care situation waiting in the wings. We're taking good care of her and she's obviously perfectly happy here; there's no reason that isn't founded on technicalities and big hairy yarnballs of red tape why she shouldn't stay with us for a little while longer."

Fai seemed to be getting increasingly spun up, so Kurogane hit the pause button by detaching one hand from the baby to give Fai a simple pat on the head.

"I get it, and while the storm's on she's definitely staying with us," he said. "But as soon as it's safe we're driving her to the hospital. Doesn't matter if we don't like it; we have to."

He got a very upset look from blue eyes that somehow managed to look bigger than ever, but it was at least accompanied by verbal agreement, reluctant though it was. Fai perked up slightly after a moment's silence and gave him a lopsided little smile.

"Maybe the mother's a meth addict with no family who'll sell me her baby for a thousand dollars?" Fai mused. Kurogane snorted at this outlandish non-fairytale twist.

"Yeah this rosy pink chub-bucket looks like a drug baby," he replied wryly. "What do you want with a baby anyway?"

"I don't want a baby, I want this baby," came the exaggeratedly petulant answer. Slender hands wormed their way between Kurogane's arms and the infant's sides as if the hotelier wanted to illustrate his claim. Kurogane was feeling possessive himself but let her go, more sympathetic than territorial at the moment.

"Well, and maybe I don't exactly want to keep her," Fai admitted. "I mean I do, but, well anyway what I really want is to know that she'll be okay."

"Maybe the mother's a sober, sensible woman who'll let us keep in touch," Kurogane posited, attempting to sound as if he was only trying to cheer the other man up, not voicing his own hopes. Fai nodded over this much more reasonable scenario, looking happier already. The little girl continued to be the focus of the blond's attention for a while, soaking up wistful smiles and affectionate little caresses and paying her nanny back in toothless smiles.

Kurogane just stood by, close but not quite hovering, gazing intently at the infant as if trying to burn the sight of her into his memories and not admitting to himself that that was what he was in fact doing. Fai soaked up her warmth and weight while Kurogane took mental pictures, and some time passed easily away in this quiet communion.

The baby was the first to break the mood, gumming Fai's clothes and making increasingly noisy demands for another feeding. They fed her while standing around in the kitchen, snacking out of small bowls of vegetables and crackers since lunch had been late enough to stand in for dinner and neither of them were hungry for a proper meal. Whoever wasn't munching away on a slice of bell pepper or carrot generally filled the silence with conversation, and the topics were as light as the food. They shared more memories, compared opinions on movies they'd both watched and had a surprisingly lengthy debate about the relative merits of seafood and farm-raised animals.

Despite differing opinions on matters the conversation remained calm, and only hit a little snarl - a literal one rumbling up from Kurogane's throat - when it came time to turn in.

The baby was already nodding off against Fai's shoulder and both men agreed that it was time for bed. The only point of contention was whether or not they needed one bed or two.