Yin: Today has been great. Donuts, soda, more donuts, some more soda. Yep :P

Amanda hummed as she picked fruit. She was going to make dessert today, but it was not for her. It was for Kurt.
It bothered her that he did not come back. Didn't he know how much she cared for him? How much his family wanted him home? They did not care that he hid his two different lives, they all just wanted him in their arms.
With two buckets filled, Amanda went to grab the two empty ones. Except, they weren't empty. Had she already finished?
Thick, blue fingerprints gave the culprit away. Whoever had helped her, had also helped himself to some of the delectables. But of course, no one could resist the delicious blueberries, especially not Kurt.
Picking up the four buckets, Amanda continued humming her song as she walked home.

Nightcrawler caught the aroma of something succulent. It was...pie? Blueberry pie. Something told him he loved the stuff.
He watched as Amanda set the still warm and breathing pie on a stump. She placed a piece of paper beside it, weighing that down with a fork. She walked away, but she did glance back a few times. Going inside the house, she disappeared from his sight.
Nightcrawler's stomach growled. He had not eaten a decent meal since he left Azazel's, except for the rare game that he hunted every now and them. He had eaten some blueberries earlier, but they stained his fingers, and were somewhat sticky.
Nightcrawler crept down the tree he was in, his sharp eye observing anything or anyone that would come after him. Seeing no one, he quickly grabbed the pie, the note, and the fork, teleporting away.
He did not notice the woman watching from the window.

Nightcrawler sat, crouching at his little camp. There was no fire, nor a tent, just foliage brushed aside. A blanket lay where his bed would be, and his ever important swords were where they always were- strapped to his back.
He started eating the pie, center first, and opened up the letter, reading as he ate.

Dear Kurt,
My sweet, sweet elf. No words can describe the joy
that I feel knowing that you are alive. All those
months grieving, only to be relieved with a great
celebration. I only wish that you would come back
to me. I want you to meet our son, Lucas Alexander.
He is like you so much, even at this early stage. But
he needs his father. I need my husband, my love.
Please, I beg you, come back. I already worked
everything out with your family, and there are no
grievances. We all just want you back in our arms.
As you read this, I wait. I wait for you, my one true
love.
Forever and Always Yours,
Amanda

Nightcrawler smirked. This was clearly not for him, the way she spoke of love this and love that. Yet, somewhere deep inside of him, he yearned for what she spoke of. He wanted a friends, family, love. A son. He...had been a part of that...or had he?
This Amanda spoke of a a Kurt, a Kurt he did not know. But whoever Kurt was, he was one lucky man.

Amanda picked up the mostly empty pie pan. The only thing Kurt had not eaten was the crust, but then, he hated crust.
She smiled. This was so like him.
The fork looked clean, licked clean. It was surrounded by crumbs, and Amanda could tell he had enjoyed it.
The only thing missing was a note. He had not responded back. But then, he probably had nothing to write with. That was a reasonable explanation.
Amanda sighed. She had been hoping that Kurt would have sheepishly delivered the pan and fork, begged for forgiveness, swept her off her feet, and kiss her. But instead, nada. No indication that he cared, and nothing that he loved her.
Lucas started crying from his basket. His innocent baby voice tore her away from her daydreams, and she picked him up, cradling him. Tears fell from her cheeks as her longing grew ever stronger.

Nightcrawler watched as mother and son cried together, nearly in unison. He wanted so bad to comfort them, but he did not know how. Not in a way that would not show himself. And he would not show himself, no, not again. He was almost afraid of what would happen. He knew he'd lose it and crack. He was already becoming to sensitive, losing the strength that Azazel had so diligently pumped into him.
Why did he want to assure the woman that all was fine? Why did he want to ruffle the boy's downy hair, and proclaim to all how proud he was?
Nightcrawler had no answers for his questions.
What bothered him was the note Amanda wrote. It was for Kurt, but he was Nightcrawler. Yet, the note was for him, except he wasn't Kurt. He was...who was he? Azazel called him Nightcrawler, the people here called him Kurt. He could not be both.
Or could he?

Amanda awoke to a large crack. She looked around, and saw nothing that alarmed her. She closed her eyes, snuggling closer to Lucas. She breathed in his cute baby smell, relaxing.
Crack!
There it was again!
Amanda flew out of bed, but she was careful not to wake Lucas. That would be a disaster.
Peering out the window, Amanda saw a dark figure bending over. He something up, stacking it with something else. He turned, facing the moonlight, illuminating his face. It was suddenly clear.
It was Kurt.
He placed a log on the stump, and raised an axe. He cut the log in half with another loud crack. And once again he gathered up the broken pieces, stacking them with the pile he had amassed.
Amanda rested her head on the glass. He was so close, just a few yards away, yet so far.
He heaved as he brought down the axe again, his body glistening with sweat. He was working so hard, and for no apparent reason at all.
Soon he was out of logs. With a satisfied sigh, he teleported away. All that was left was the rapidly diminishing smoke.
Amanda crawled back in bed, but as much as Kurt was pleased, she was dissatisfied. She was upset with herself, and almost with Kurt. But she refused to be angry at him, he had to have a reason. So when he came back, she'd be ready.
Already she was making plans in her head for pants, shirts, and long johns. His clothes were wearing out, that was evident, and being him, he did not know how to sew. Plus, what better way to be a good wife, than to have many presents ready for him when he returned?
Amanda's eyes closed, and she fell asleep, so many ideas and wishes in her head, that might never come true.

Yin: This is moving a little slow for me. What do you think? Faster, good, or slower?