Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: This is another one of those chapters where you might need some forewarning of excessive sweetness. :) Thanks for all the reviews. Hopefully we'll be wrapping everything up here soon. I'm enjoying drawing out the fluffiness, but it might be getting excessive... Hehe. :)

I dropped the girls off at school, wanting very much to hug each of them and tell them to have a good day at school… but that felt like I was pushing it. Forcing the whole 'dad' thing. I wanted our relationship to develop naturally… I wanted be earn their trust and affection. So I contented myself with a 'Have fun!' as they piled out of the car, waving happily at me and then giggling as they moved into the school.

I went home, took Hank for a walk, took a shower… and by the time I was pulling a t-shirt over my head, there was a knock coming at the door. …The beds were here.

They were not nearly as complicated to put together as I imagined… but moving everything by myself proved to be difficult enough on its own. I moved the futon out of the office and into a corner of the living room, followed by Sara's desk, computer, file cabinet, and other miscellaneous office supplies. Then, I dragged the long boxes of one of the beds into the room that was now empty with the exception of the overflowing closets, and general littering around the floor of girl… things.

I didn't dare move anything, because I had no idea whose was whose. …Seriously, maybe it was better if they all had their own rooms…

I struggled for about ten minutes, and finally broke down and read the instructions… realizing that each bed came with a tall headboard and a short footboard. …And to make bunk-beds, the bottom bed had to be set up with the taller headboards on either end. I sighed, throwing down the paper and letting it fall Spanish-side-up while I went to track down another high headboard. After that, it was simple—I had one bed set up, tall frame on either side, and slid it into the corner without the window.

God, it was hot in here.

The next bed came easier—short footboards serving as top and bottom… and it was light enough that with a little creative maneuvering and a lot of ingenuity, I was able to attach it to the bottom. I wiped the sweat from my brow and headed back into the living room, thinking that I would need another shower when I was done with all of this, dragging the final bed into the room and going to work… and realizing, once it was assembled, that there was no good place for it.

With a groan of frustration, I moved about scooting the bunked beds within their corner, but so the head of the beds rested against the wall with the window, rather than one long side of them. Then, I moved the single bed to rest against the same wall, on the other side of the window. …I thought the effect was rather nice, and that it would be even nicer with a nightstand or a dresser underneath the window. …There had been an end table beside the futon, and though it looked like it fit better in a living room than a bedroom, once I'd moved it in between the beds, I thought it looked like it belonged there.

The room was starting to look like a children's bedroom rather than a office/spare room/disaster area. …Which made me feel good. If I had time, maybe I'd try to make it look even more so… but right now, I still had three box springs and three mattresses to move. …Maybe I could get Sara to make the beds on her lunch break. She was better at that kind of thing anyway and… I was exhausted just thinking about everything I had left.

I had just managed to get the second mattress in and on the bed when I heard her come in.

"Gil?"

"In here."

"…It's a disaster area out the-re…" I turned to look at her curiously—she was standing in the doorway, watching me, no clear cause apparent for why she'd paused over her words… I tilted my head.

"…Not how you imagined it?"

"No, it's… it's better. This looks like it was a lot of work." I frowned again. Something in her tone was not… talking about how much work she imagined it would be. She licked her lips and I almost laughed.

"You can't be serious."

"…They're at school…"

"Sara, I'm disgusting right now…"

She shook her head. "You look… delicious… right now."

I frowned. "…Is this a new fetish I'm not aware of? I smell bad."

She started moving over to me. "No… you just smell… masculine. …When's the next time we can count on them all be out of the house?"

"Tomorrow on your lunch break." She rolled her eyes and reached me, her hands falling on my chest, running up and down. I laughed incredulously. "At least let me jump in the shower quick…"

She shook her head. "… There's no time. …You know, I think I get your whole… disheveled thing, now."

I raised an eyebrow. "What?" She leaned up, pressing her lips to mine tightly and sliding her tongue across my lower lip.

"You know… you're always especially attracted when I'm… disheveled. My hair a mess, my clothes wrinkled…"

"Pleasantly fuckable." I provided, swallowing. How was it that she had me out of breath with desire just by the way her hands were sliding over my chest and shoulders?

She grinned. "Exactly. …Hot and sweaty and panting…."

She kissed me and dragged me into the bedroom, despite my protests but… really, I was more than happy to oblige. We were newlyweds, but I didn't think that was an excuse—I felt like I would still desire her every minute of every day for the next fifty years.

She freshened up while I made her a sandwich to eat on the drive back to work, and the languid, deep, sensual way she kissed me before she left… I knew that tonight I would feel like I'd never had the release, I would want her so badly. …Why hadn't we adopted three infants? Or, no… three seven years olds… They slept through the night, and they wouldn't know what they were hearing if they did wake up…

I shook my head, feeling exhausted but somehow re-energized. I managed to bring in the final box spring and mattress, make all three beds, and drag their plastic storage containers out of the closet to rest along the wall opposite the windows and the bed. Sara had a large, decorative mirror up on that wall… and by setting up their storage containers, it was almost like they each had a vanity in front of the mirror. They could keep their hairbrushes or… I don't know… make up things… on the top, and then now there was more room in the closet. I frowned, looking at the ugly, white, plastic containers, wishing they were real dressers for our girls…

And then went digging through the linen closet in the hallway, finally coming up with some rather bright yellow table cloth that looked like it hadn't been used in years. It wasn't old or expensive, so I figured she wouldn't be mad at me… I folded it and laid it over the top of their containers, so that it just covered the top and fell a little over either side. I stood back, looking around the room at my handiwork. …It wasn't what I wanted to give our girls, but for now… it was nice.

I set the futon up as a couch at the end of our bed, mostly because the only free space in the living room was being taken up by Sara's office things. It would be a tight squeeze, for a while. …She'd had two lamps, in the office, one standing and one resting on her desk. I left her the standing one and moved the desk lamp onto the end table between the beds, thinking that we'd need to get them an alarm clock, eventually.

I had time for yet another shower before I went to get the girls, and I was nervous, while I waited outside for them, thinking that the end table really didn't look right in a bedroom and the lamp wasn't very appropriate for a children's room and the table cloth thing was just cheesy and silly. I had been excited for them to see how hard I'd tried to make their room 'home,' despite the temporary nature of things while we waited on the adoption so we could move… but really, I was a silly old man who was out of touch with their age group.

I gripped the steering wheel, overcome with the urge to drive home quickly and undo it… I so wanted the girls to like me… I knew that they were so much closer with Sara, which I understood, but… I longed to have a relationship with each of them, personally… not just as Sara's husband.

They slid into the car, in the middle of an engaging conversation about whether Chad and Kate had actually kissed or not and whether they thought there'd been tongue involved. …Wow, that was alarming. Was I supposed to stop that kind of talk, or…?

"Hey Griss!"

"Hey! I told my teacher about you today!"

"Daddy Griss-bucks!"

…The last one was Kaitlin. I laughed, uncertainly, at the reference… and chose instead to ask about Jill's comment. "…What did you tell him? …Her?"

"Her." She provided. "She was talking about science because these dumb boys were saying that it was boring and useless… and she was talking about all the good science did—like the internet and predicting storms and DNA to catch criminals. And I said that… well, I mean, the kids at school don't really know about our parents, so… I just said 'my dad,' you know, to simplify, but…" She was blushing, and I smiled brightly. "Anyway, I said 'my dad' was a CSI and he did DNA and all of that."

I grinned and glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "That's very sweet, Jill. If… If you girls want to call me that… you can. I mean… you don't have to. I…" I sighed. Only four women in my life had ever left me tongue-tied—I was in the car with three of them and married to another. I was crazy. "What I'm trying to say is… it's up to you. I would… love to be… dad, but… I'll understand if… that's weird."

They were all smiling brightly, and I focused on driving, not liking how my face was burning. Sure, I could face serial killers in interrogation rooms with a stoic expression and taunting words… but put me with some twelve year olds and watch me stutter and turn bright red like a teenager on a first date.

It was with relief when we got home and I could get out of the car, even if I now wished I had not been so ambitious with the bedroom. …Maybe they'd be so excited to have real beds that they wouldn't notice how silly I'd been. I unlocked the door and they rushed in, kicking off shoes and dragging their backpacks into their bedroom. My stomach churned as they moved down the hall, and I tried to focus on concrete things. Close the door, turn the lock. Slide out of shoes, scratch Hank behind the ears. Move to kitchen, brace hands on counter.

They screamed. …I was pretty sure that was a good thing, and a grin slid across my face, but I wasn't certain… I waited. As a literal mob, they ran back out to me and threw themselves into a screaming-group-hug around me, thanking me for the beds. …I might have damaged my ear drums, but I was blinking back tears I was so happy.

"…When did Sara have time to set up that area in front of the mirror?" Alexis asked. They girls were grinning, watching me expectantly.

I hesitated… it seemed like they liked it. And if they were assuming it was Sara… well, maybe they would think it was weird that I'd touched their things. One of them, for sure, was using the top drawer for socks and underwear… Yeah, that would probably be weird. "Lunch break. She wanted it to look more like a home for you guys."

There was a chorus of Aww!'s and another round of rapid-fire hugs, and then they were literally running back into the room, shouting as they went about who got which bed… and I blinked rapidly again, surprised at how strongly I was reacting. …I had liked the girls, when I suggested we adopt them. …But I hadn't expected to find their happiness so… overwhelming.

I drew in a deep breath, focusing on finding an after-school snack, so I could keep control of myself. I would have opted for a bag of Doritos and three cokes, but Sara had talked about how important she thought it was for the girls to eat healthy… I dug out some granola bars and yogurt instead. …I wanted Sara to think I would be a good dad as much as I wanted the girls to see me as one. I had never felt so uncertain of my own adequacy… and never been so happy to find I could do something well.