Author's Note: Thank you to my readers and followers for your patience. The past few years have been...yeah. Basically nothing I'd wish on an enemy. My health, work, home life, and primary relationships are now stable enough that I'm cautiously dipping my toes back into fan-waters. Thank you for your support and well wishes!

There was no gradual waking consisting of incremental increases in the awareness of the other person in the bed, of going from wondering what that pressure was against his ribcage to realizing that his new boyfriend's fist was being squeezed uncomfortably between their torsos, of being too sleepy to bother moving his head but too annoyed by the hair tickling his nose to fall back asleep and finally shifting his face a bit with a put-upon huff. Instead of slowly waking up to warmth and contentment and maybe a little internal debate about whether it was wisdom or foolishness to start off a busy day with a nuzzle at the soft curve of Fai's neck, Kurogane was jolted out of bed by a piercing cry, and Fai was jolted out of a deep sleep by his pseudo pillow effectively flipping him like a fried egg.

The baby sounded terrified or tormented, and Kurogane was too busy trying not to have a heart attack while untangling himself from the blankets to answer Fai's startled "Whatwhywhat?!"

"Hey hey hey, calm down, I'm right here," Kurogane called out as calmly as he could manage while taking long strides down the hallway and into the nursery. There were no timber wolves snarling through the bars of the crib, no sudden cave-in of the roof, no shattered window and broken bird. The baby's diaper was a bit heavy but she'd suffered worse before and much more quietly, and a quick once-over while changing her confirmed that she hadn't magically produced a safety pin or pair of scissors from somewhere and done herself an injury. The baby was just upset, and Kurogane's eventual diagnosis was a nightmare.

God only knew she had enough to cry about, though she didn't even know it yet. He gave her a quick cuddle and pat, and only spared a split second's thought for the fact that he himself continued to sleep soundly through the nights without being terrified awake. Well, at least as long as this little charmer stayed quiet, he did.

By the time he had her fastened cozily up, her cries had gone down a bit in volume but there were still fat tears rolling down her reddened cheeks, and she kept sucking in deep breaths and letting them out angrily. Fai had appeared and was hovering unhappily, shooting off short queries such as "zipper pinch?", "crib splinter?", and "spider bite?" that Kurogane just answered "no" to one after the other.

"Probably had a nightmare and got pissed off that no one was there when she woke up."

"Poor baby," Fai said mournfully, and took her into his own arms while Kurogane disposed of the soiled diaper. "Well you'll be rooming with Yuui and me so there'll always be someone to pick you up whenever you want."

"You're going to spoil her," Kurogane protested over one shoulder on the way to the bathroom, and found himself promptly shut down while he washed his hands.

"It's impossible to spoil a young infant," Fai said authoritatively. An impressive feat considering he was dancing the baby around, making his sleep-rumpled hair wave about like weeds under water, and yet he put a good bit of confidence and command into his voice. "They're not sophisticated enough to be manipulative yet, and until they're about six months old they only cry based on basic needs and primal emotions. Personal motivations won't appear for a few more months yet."

Kurogane snorted, amused despite himself, and then posed a question.

"Okay mister I-read-one-book-and-now-I'm-an-expert, when she hits six months and starts to need more boundaries, are you gonna be able to kick the habit of giving her whatever she wants as soon as she makes a sad face?"

Fai pursed his lips and frowned, leaned back so that he could consider his tiny cousin's still-flushed face and dewy eyes, then wrinkled his nose in defeat.

"Nope," the blond conceded, and then rounded on Kurogane again. "Okay, you have four months."

"Until what?" Kurogane asked, perplexed.

"You move in with us and save our little kitten here from growing up a spoiled brat by raising her with me and Yuui," Fai declared with a grin.

"Your brother seems level-headed, amazingly enough," Kurogane noted with another snort. "He'll have to step up and be the disciplinarian."

"Ooh that means I'll be the fun one. Nice," Fai said, relegating his supposedly much-loved brother to the role of stick-in-the-mud without any hesitation.

They split up to take turns getting through the morning necessities such as brushing their teeth and making breakfast while also tending to the baby's wants and needs. Once they were dressed the shop was opened up for the day and the adults settled into what almost felt like normalcy and routine, save that Fai seemed to want to take selfies and pictures every few minutes. ("To remember you by, Kuro-grizzly." "How bad is your memory?! One picture oughta be enough!") The baby quieted down once she had a bellyful of formula but remained a touch fussy, getting upset whenever Kurogane set her down in the playpen.

After dishing out an apologetic belly rub or two, he was perfectly willing to let her complain while he washed a few dishes or strode out to the front of the shop to attend to a customer, but invariably Fai appeared and rescued her from "baby jail" as he began calling it before she got worked up enough for tears. The shopkeeper had to field a few more anxious questions about the possibilities of acute appendicitis and bacterial meningitis.

"She's probably upset because she knows she'll have to say goodbye to her grumpy old bear soon," Fai eventually sighed, so convincingly sorrowful that Kurogane leveled a suspicious stare at him for a few seconds before deciding that the blond was just being melodramatic.

"Don't start. She does just fine with you and soon she'll have two uncles spoiling her silly." Then, changing topics, Kurogane asked, "So how do you want to do this? Does your car stay here, or are you driving yourself to the airport or what?"

"Oh, no, that car stays at the cabin," Fai said. "I usually take a car service down."

It was said hesitantly, hopefully. Fai didn't state outright that that was his intention now, and Kurogane stepped easily into the opening left for him.

"Waste of money," he grumbled by way of excuse. "What time do you have to be at the airport?"

It turned out that Fai had booked the earliest flight out. If it had been done to better his chances of wheedling a ride to the airport from his hard-working host, it wasn't confessed, but it worked out perfectly that way. Despite the long drive, what with pre-flight check-ins and what not, Kurogane would be able to drop his guests off and still be back in time to open his shop up at a fairly decent time. The adults talked over details, counted up some to-do items on their fingers, and then parted ways briefly. Fai drove back up to his cabin alone, leaving the infant with Kurogane.

If Fai had had his way, the others would have accompanied him to the cabin to keep him company while he packed, but Kurogane had a shop to run and said packing would probably be accomplished all the faster if Fai was motivated to finish up and get back to his boyfriend and baby cousin as soon as possible.

"This is our last day together," Fai had pouted at the door, after insisting on having Kurogane pose for another photograph there, with the infant in one arm and his free hand making her wave goodbye. "I don't want to waste even one hour of it."

"You're not going off to war, bird-brain," Kurogane had scoffed in reply. "I'll come and visit you."

"When?"

"Dunno. Not too long."

But Fai had insisted on something more concrete beyond the point of what Kurogane considered reasonable, and hadn't been satisfied until the shopkeeper had promised to visit within the next month or two, no more than three at the most. With no social life or outside commitments to speak of, Kurogane hadn't really had any excuse for putting the visit off except his customers. But if he was going to take a short vacation it hardly mattered whether it was done today or six months from now, and the busiest winter season was already on the wane. He'd promised, and Fai had only departed once both their phones contained new calendar reminders.

The blond's anxiety for securities for their future - and pictures on his phone - persisted throughout the day.

When Kurogane drove up later to pick Fai up, he attempted to give back the spare key to the cabin that was still on his key ring, but Fai insisted on his keeping it "just in case". Just in case what, neither man could say.

"Can I have a key to your place?" Fai asked as he buckled himself into Kurogane's car. His manner was easy and casual and almost made his request seem perfectly reasonable. Almost.

"The hell for? You'd better not stop by without any notice."

"You run a store, Grumpy Bear; people stop by without any notice all day long."

"And none of them have a key."

"And none of them are dating you. Or at least I certainly hope they're not. Are grizzly bears monogamous?"

"I am, but you still don't get a key."

"Yay for exclusivity! Boo for keylessness. What if you're unexpectedly away and I need shelter?"

"You have a cabin!"

"What if it gets buried in an avalanche or burns down in a forest fire?"

"Then my shop'd probably be toast too."

"Okay well what if my cabin's hit by a meteorite?"

"Then you drive your ass back down to Elk Ridge and call your insurance company."

"What if the meteorite also takes out the garage and I have to walk, and just baaarely make it to your shop before collapsing?"

"Then hang out in the supply shed until I get back. Drink some water. No key."

"Meanie. Will you give me a ring instead?"

"Yeah, sure I'll call you sometimes."

"No I mean an engagement ring."

Kurogane said something he probably shouldn't have said in front of the baby.

"What about a promise ring?" Fai persisted.

"The hell is a promise ring?"

"It's a ring you give someone when you promise to buy them an engagement ring someday."

Kurogane frowned as he tried to make sense of this, and then wrinkled his nose up in disgust as he failed to even make it seem halfway sensible.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard of," he stated as he finished maneuvering the car around the drifts piled up around the cabin, and in the back seat, the baby burbled what sounded like agreement. "Why would anyone bother with a promise ring? Why not just get an engagement ring and be done with it?"

"Well, usually the promise ring is a lot simpler than the engagement ring," Fai said, getting into the conversation rather than continuing his humorous, half-serious attempts to further their romance. "It's often a gold Claddagh, which is two hands holding a crowned heart. If a couple's not old enough to get married or financially stable, promise rings are nice placeholders while they wait."

"Okay that makes sense," Kurogane admitted. "But we're not teenagers or on a budget. If you can get real rings what's the point of a promise ring?"

"It's just another milestone in the journey, stuffy old bear," Fai teased.

"A dumb one," Kurogane argued back. "If you're serious enough to promise that you'll get engaged in the future you're basically getting engaged already."

"Well, some people might need to get from dating to engaged in two baby steps instead of one big one. They might not be ready to commit themselves fully."

"Well those people aren't ready to get engaged then."

"That's why they 'get promised' instead."

"The hell? A promise to get engaged shouldn't be any easier to break than a promise to marry!" Kurogane burst out, exasperated at the concept. Perhaps startled by his sudden increase in volume, the baby awped anxiously in the back seat.

"He's not yelling at you sweetie," Fai cooed at her, twisting around in his seat to pet her head soothingly.

"Not yelling at you either," Kurogane said, an unexpected unease making him suddenly aware of his tendency toward testiness in a new way. Keeping calm while ringing up customers who knew better than to try and engage him in small talk wasn't exactly a good measure of his social skills. Just because Fai easily bantered back at his grouchy growls didn't mean that the blond deserved to be snarled at in the first place either. Kurogane reached over with one hand to give Fai an awkward something in between an apologetic pat and a friendly shove, and steadfastly kept his gaze on the road even though he could see, out of the corner of one eye, Fai turning back to him with a bright smile.

"We're dating and I promise to visit but I'm not buying you a ring," Kurogane summarized, and at a short stretch of straight road, fixed Fai's attention onto him with a quick glare. "And don't you buy me one either. I won't think it's funny or cute. Maybe we get married someday but we're miles from that still and I don't like jokes about serious stuff."

Fai blinked at him, wide-eyed and straightening up as much as his seat allowed.

"You really think you could marry me someday?"

"Seriously?" Kurogane asked wearily, unable to shoot another look at Fai as the road twisted and turned between trees so tall they blotted out the sky. "You're the one who's been proposing every damn day, and talking about goldfish and moving and keys, and I told you I'm not interested in meaningless hook-ups. If you haven't actually considered the possibility even once you can get out of my car right now."

"No, I mean...you," Fai clarified. "I'll marry you right now if we run into an ordained minister on the road without actually running him over, but you're so...well, you. You really think you could fall in love with me? Like really fall? All the way? To the bottom? Like, no parachute, terminal velocity, splat? Face-plant into marriage because you can't live without me anymore?"

Kurogane shook his head as if to clear it of the strange mental images Fai's words were producing. Deciding on impulse to stop the car for the sake of the conversation, he glanced into his rear view mirrors and then steadily pressed down on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a stop in the middle of the road. He threw the parking brake on and then twisted in his seat to face the man whom he had begun dating through a dizzyingly tall pile of interconnected coincidences. Fai was staring at him, eyes wide over a faint smile flickering between nervous and shyly hopeful, confused and curious and maybe a little cautious, hands folded on his lap now in a prim schoolboy manner.

"Seriously, what?" Kurogane asked. "If I thought there wasn't a chance of it I wouldn't have ever agreed to date you. What would be the point if I knew for sure we'd just break up in the end? Wouldn't be worth whatever fun we managed to have in the meantime. I'm dating you because there's that chance, and I'm fine with putting in the work to figure out whether this is going to pan out or not. If it works out, we'll eventually end up married or as good as. If not, well, it won't be for lack of trying."

Fai's face had gone strangely blank, and he stared long enough to make Kurogane wonder that those big blue eyes weren't getting painfully dried out.

And then he lunged across the center console and grabbed Kurogane's face, pulling the startled shopkeeper into a fierce kiss.

Kurogane had flinched automatically at the unexpected affection-attack, but his brain caught up quickly to his instincts and gave them a swift kick. He wasn't sure this was the best way to end the conversation, but he at least knew better than to push the other man away just because he wanted to press his point in some random debate. The kiss was over before he began to feel that he should participate more in it, and then Fai backed off about two centimeters, hands still bracketing Kurogane's jaw and neck.

"I love you even though I don't understand you sometimes," he breathed, eyes twinkling merrily now and a smile slowly stretching out over his face.

Kurogane thought he'd been perfectly logical and sensible, so what he didn't understand about Fai was how Fai couldn't understand him.

"You're weird," he murmured back in what he hoped sounded like resignation but probably came across as just embarrassed, and dropped a quick peck to the side of that smile to soften the statement. He was released as Fai gave a bright laugh and settled back into his own seat. Kurogane shrugged his shoulders to get comfortable again behind the wheel and resumed driving after a quick look around to check for any suicidal deer that might have strolled up while the engine was quietly idling.

"When we get married I'm writing your vows for you," Fai declared. "I don't want you to respond to my impassioned, romantic speeches with something like 'yeah well, you're not the worst, I guess'."

Kurogane snorted and countered with a demand to be allowed to put a word limit on his prospective husband's vows should that day come. The lighthearted theoretical wedding planning continued during the remainder of the drive back to the general store. Fai declared that Yuui could be his 'something old' while he could be his own 'something blue'. Kurogane would be his 'something new' and Sakura was told that she would be dressed in a teensy wedding dress and be his 'something borrowed'. Fai sank briefly into a sorrowful reverie as he pondered a way to honor Birdie without giving away secrets and Kurogane respectfully stayed quiet, though he did reach over to rest a comforting hand on Fai's thigh.

The cloud soon passed and Fai spent a few minutes trying to figure out if Kurogane would look better in a bow tie or an ascot. Either way the shopkeeper was told he had to wear a vest. Fai apparently had a thing for vests. They agreed on a small wedding since Kurogane had no family and Fai had no relatives he considered family beyond his brother. The reception, however, sounded like it would be exhaustingly humongous since Fai's circle of friends seemed to encompass the entire population of Seal Cove.

Kurogane sat quietly through the chatter about flower arrangements and tuned out everything regarding whether the petit fours should be decorated with flowers and dragées or sugar lace and edible glitter. Fai seemed to be having fun with imaginary wedding plans independent of any feedback from his prospective husband, and honestly it was rather amusing and even interesting to look forward and imagine them actually doing this in earnest. On rare occasions when Kurogane had thought about someday, somehow, perhaps finding someone special of his own he'd always skipped forward to the part where they'd been together for years already and were just comfortably getting on with their life. He'd never thought about all the little milestones that Fai seemed so enchanted with; first dates and first kisses, promises and plans, choosing furniture together and bickering over what flavor of cake to have at their wedding. (It sounded like it would be dark chocolate ganache and edible ribbons over chocolate cake with strawberry and whipped cream cheese filling, and Kurogane wondered if it was any sort of bad luck or manners for a groom to refuse to eat his own wedding cake.)

By the time Kurogane pulled back into his garage, Fai had moved on to the honeymoon.

"Hawaii? It's a little tourist trappy but if you haven't traveled much and want to see the ocean, then we might as well start there. We can save the more exotic locations for anniversaries and vacations."

"Why not just stick around near Seal Cove? It's on a coastline and you make it sound nice," Kurogane tossed out while walking 'round the car to get to the infant.

Fai burst out of the front passenger seat, aghast and outraged.

"Oh my God, worst honeymoon ever! We have to go somewhere!"

"Why?" Kurogane asked with a shrug. "If you stay home, you don't have to deal with the hassle of flying and crappy hotel sheets and food poisoning at random restaurants. Plus then all the memories are right there."

Fai blinked and went silent for a bit, occasionally huffing and changing his stance as if readying to argue but never actually beginning. Kurogane hoisted the baby up against his shoulder, shut the car door and then scoffed in amusement at the way Fai seemed to be struggling to decide whether to be angry or amused. Finally the blond settled for shaking his head and laughing ruefully.

"I have no idea how you do it, but the more boring and sensible things come out of your mouth, the more romantic and amazing you seem."

Kurogane had nothing to say to that, so he just shrugged and made his way into the shop.

"Come on, don't just stand there," he called back over his shoulder. "I need you to watch the front for me while I box up some stuff for Princess here."

"Okay, that was not romantic," Fai noted wryly, and while he shed his coat, peppered Kurogane with questions about what exactly needed to be packed.