A/N: Happy sweet, sweet Sunday, Trailblazers! I'm gonna be honest and say I wasn't planning to update this story today. Why am I doing it, then? Because you are all awesome readers who deserve a belated fluffy Friday. And specifically because Patsy requested it and no one takes down rude anonymous reviewers like she does, so her wish is my writing command. I hope you like the chapter!

.. Happy and Unhappy ..

A very famous, very old, and very Russian writer once said that happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

I never really understood that. But then again, I didn't have a whole lot of experience with happy families. Different, alike ... how would I know?

"Mommy, you're not going to believe this."

Meredith smiles at Zola's expression – utterly serious, yet delighted at the same time. Derek likes to call it her splitting the atom face, and he swears one day she'll have that same look … when she wins the Nobel Prize.

"Come with me," Zola urges. "You have to see it."

Meredith follows Zola down the hall, leaving a napping Bailey in the family room in the portable playpen they mercifully packed in their own car.

"Daddy!" Zola bellows, and Derek appears, looking rather dusty from sealing off the fireplace.

"What's wrong, Zozo?"

"Nothing's wrong, you just gotta see this. Come on."

And she takes each of her parents by one hand and drags them toward her bedroom.

"Look," she says excitedly, crossing the room and pointing to the wall.

Meredith looks, trying to see what Zola is pointing out. "A crack in the wall?"

"No. It's so much better." Zola presses her little fingers along the seam and it splits in two, revealing what looks like a large wooden crate and a system of pulleys.

"It's an elevator for kids!"

"Look at that." Derek whistles softly, joining Zola. "How old did the realtor say this house was, Mer?"

"She didn't." Meredith crouches next to him to examine the discovery. "I guess I just assumed … forties?"

"Right." Derek thumps one of the solid walls. "I think it might be older than that."

He looks at their daughter. "That means your room must be above the kitchen."

Zola looks confused.

"That's not an elevator, Zo … it's a dumbwaiter," Derek says.

Zola frowns. "Dumb isn't a nice word, Daddy."

"You're right, sweetie, but in this case it's a different kind of dumb. Like an old fashioned way of saying quiet."

"Oh." Zola considers this.

"But you still shouldn't use that word," Derek adds quickly.

"Okay. But." Zola props a hand on her hip. "Maybe it's not an elevator but it's definitely not a waiter. Waiters are people."

"You're right," Derek says. "Maybe we need a new name for it."

"What's it for?"

"People would put food on it," Derek explains, "and move it up and down to different floors."

Zola looks intrigued and Derek, concerned.

Meredith watches him sit back on his haunches and take Zola's hands in his, his tone serious. "Listen, Zozo, I'm going to board it up," he tells their daughter, "as soon as I figure out where I packed my tools."

"Why? It's so cool!" Zola's voice rises in protest.

"Because it's dangerous," Derek says calmly, "and I don't want you playing with it."

"I won't … "

"And I don't want your brother playing with it," Derek continues. "It's not safe for people. It's meant for food."

"Then why can't we use it for food?"

"Because it's the twenty-first century and we don't need our food delivered through the walls," Derek tells her, settling down cross-legged and pulling Zola into his lap. "We can go downstairs to the kitchen and get food when we need it. Right?"

"Yeah…" Zola's playing with the zipper of his lightweight vest. "But the elevator for kids is better than going downstairs 'cause you can just stay here."

"I can't argue with that logic," Derek admits, flashing a grin at Meredith, "but it's off limits anyway."

"Can we use it once first?"

"No," Meredith joins the conversation. "It's not a toy, sweetie, and we have no idea when it was built or serviced or … anything."

"Nineteen-fourteen."

"Hm?"

"It says right there," Zola tells them, climbing out of Derek's lap and pointing one small finger at the underside of the wooden structure.

"So not the forties, then," Derek says to Meredith under his breath. To Zola he says: "There you go. That's a long time ago, especially if it hasn't been repaired since then. No touching. You got it?"

Zola looks like she wants to rebel, but she nods. "Nineteen-fourteen," she repeats, and when her brow furrows, and Meredith can tell she's doing the subtraction in her head. She gives her daughter a pad and a crayon – someone has apparently stocked the little maple child's desk with everything Zola might need.

While Zola painstakingly works out how long ago 1914 was, Meredith turns her attention to Derek. "Do you think you can board it up before tonight?"

"If I can find my tools. At least temporarily, and then we can get a professional – why?"

"Because I don't want her to sleep in here if it's not boarded up," Meredith admits. "I trust her, but …"

Her voice trails off. But I don't want to risk it. She's a mother; she's been calculating risk since the first time someone placed Zola in her arms. She had to ask then: how dangerous is it for me to fall in love with this child?

Meredith and Derek exchange a glance. Zola is sitting cross-legged now, pad on her lap, pink lips pursed, as she works methodically through her math problem. Every once in a while, she frees a hand to stroke the soft purple rug.

They don't exchange any words yet, but the meaning is unfortunately clear: if she doesn't get to sleep in her new room the first night in the new place … heaven help us all.

"I'll start looking," Derek says quickly then, just as Meredith says: "Let's find that toolbox."

…

"We can't find the toolbox," Zola announces glumly, joining Meredith and a slowly waking Bailey in the family room. Bailey is grumbling, one hand fisted in his mother's hair, but he manages half a smile for his big sister. Zola pats his slightly matted head and climbs up onto the couch.

"Is Daddy still looking?" Meredith asks.

Zola nods.

"Then he might still find it."

"Yeah, but …" Zola swings her feet. "It's almost dinnertime."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, Daddy said."

In the silence, there's a faint growling sound.

"And your tummy says it too," Zola adds, grinning.

"I think you're right." Standing up, Meredith hefts Bailey onto her hip and reaches out a hand to Zola. They find Derek in the living room, half his torso vanished into a large box.

"Can't find it." He pulls back, his face slightly reddened from the inversion. "I looked everywhere it could be."

"I'm sorry." Meredith glances at Zola, who doesn't seem to make the connection about her room quite yet, and then sets a now awake Bailey on his feet.

"We could go out and buy one," Meredith suggests tentatively, waiting until Zola is occupied climbing onto a child-sized rocking horse and Bailey is clapping joyfully for her.

"We could. But it's getting so late already."

"It is." Meredith pauses. "We could eat."

"We could." Derek smiles at her. "I'll fire up the grill. You did a great job with the grocery order."

"What grocery order?"

Derek's brow knits. "Weren't you the one who ordered the food?"

"I didn't order anything. I figured we'd – call for pizza or something." Meredith shakes her head. "Why, what did – "

The large refrigerator in the kitchen is stocked with meat and fish for the grill, zucchini and eggplant, even the crisper drawer is full.

"Wow," Meredith says.

"Home sweet home?" Derek grins at her. "How about you keep those two from setting the house on fire, and I'll make dinner happen?"

"Perfect."

Perfect. That's what happy families are like. I mean, take the Brady Bunch. There's a happy family – one of the only ones I saw, growing up. I loved it. And sure, they needed full time domestic help and a stay at home mom at the same time just to keep all six kids in those very dated clothes and haircuts, but they smiled a lot and no one ever seemed alone. Everything was always clean and sparkling and everyone was always polite.

"Mine!" Bailey grabs for Zola's cup, watered-down juice sloshing over the side.

The sun set with alacrity and they're eating delicious dinner fresh from the grill while the open windows blow fresh spring air into the kitchen.

"Bailey, you have your own, sweetie," Meredith intervenes, detaching his little fingers from the pink handles, "and this is why it has a lid." Bailey responds with a howl that would make a werewolf proud and Meredith braves his toddler wrath to wipe his sticky face and hands.

"I think he's getting tired." Derek lifts their son out of the high chair. "What do you think, buddy? Bedtime?"

The volume of Bailey's response suggests Derek has just proposed feeding him to a shark.

"Okay, you can have my cup," Zola concedes, holding it out, but Bailey shakes his head vigorously, then buries his face in Derek's shoulder.

"That's nice of you, sweetie." Meredith wraps an arm around Zola, who's climbed down from her chair to lean against her. "He's just overtired."

"I'm pretty tired myself," Derek says from the other side of the kitchen; he's been pacing with Bailey, rubbing his back, and the little boy has already calmed down significantly.

"I'll get him ready."

"Daddy … what about my new room?" Zola's lower lip trembles.

Meredith and Derek exchange a hesitant glance.

"Sweetie, as soon as we get the dumbwaiter boarded up, you can sleep there," Derek says.

"But I want to sleep there tonight!"

Bailey peers from between his fingers at his older sister. Zola's tears are rare enough that he seems to think she needs his support, so he offers a loud wail.

"Guys. Guys." Derek hands a weeping Bailey to Meredith and kneels down in front of Zola. "It's okay. We have an idea."

"You do?" Zola sniffles, her tears subsiding as fast as they came. "What is it?"

"We do. It's … well…." Derek glances at Meredith, who's cuddling a weepy Bailey and frankly curious to hear the idea herself. "Mer…?" He shoots her a look halfway between gratitude and desperation. "Why don't you tell them?"

"Okay, I'll tell them." Meredith pauses, buying some time, bouncing her son a little on her hip. "Okay, so … here it is."

"I can sleep in my new room," Zola interrupts darkly. "That should be your idea."

"Well, it's not, Zo, but listen and you might like this one. Here it is. How about … nobody sleeps in their new room?"

Zola's mouth opens in protest, then closes and her little brow furrows. "Wait – what?"

"Nobody sleeps in their new room," Meredith repeats.

"But you and Daddy don't have a dumbwaiter in your room," Zola says.

"We don't have a dumbwaiter in our room," Meredith confirms.

"And Bailey doesn't either."

"And Bailey doesn't either," Derek repeats, shooting Meredith a look of pure gratitude, "but we're a team, so that means if one of us has a dumbwaiter, then all of us have a dumbwaiter."

Zola giggles a little at the still-funny new word, then pauses. "But … then if we can't sleep in my room … or your room … or Bailey's room, where are we going to sleep tonight?"

..

"How does it look?" Derek asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Meredith glances around the room. It's on the second floor, and it's … well. It fits the bill. She's actually not sure what this room is supposed to be. A guest room? An office? But whatever its intent, it's empty with a thick enough rug to make up for uninspiring beige color.

There's a door so Bailey won't run off, and carpeting to make it somewhat soft under the two narrow sleeping bags Derek scrounged up, one the bright orange of a hunting vest, the other khaki.

Appearances matter. How do I know that? Well, it wasn't just Carol Brady who taught me about happy families. There was a girl in my class in elementary school – Tracey Willoughby. Her mother stayed home and kept their house beautiful. Tracey's dresses were perfectly pressed and her shoes were always shined. Her brother wore little bow ties. When her mother picked Tracey up from school – while I walked – her mom always looked perfect too, with her hair all shiny and pretty jewelry on. Everyone smiled a lot. Like, all the time. And Mrs. Willoughby baked her own brownies. Brownies!

She also ran away with the landscaper when we were in the eighth grade. But right up until then … perfect.

"I think it looks great," Meredith tells him, hoping the doubt isn't creeping into her voice.

"Are those all our sleeping bags?" Zola asks worriedly.

"All the ones I found quickly," Derek says. "So we'll have to share."

"Derek," Meredith tugs lightly on his sleeve, "this is a little … I mean, there's a king-sized bed in our room. We could all be comfortable in there."

"True." He pauses. "Yeah, you're right. Let's just – "

"Mommy, Daddy, look!"

They turn to see Zola beaming proudly, Bailey next to her looking equally satisfied. They've spread the two sleeping bags out in a sort of cross. Getting access to pillow or covers will require lining the family up in what can best be called a pinwheel structure.

Meredith glances at Derek.

Derek glances at the sleeping bags.

"Is this how you pictured our first night?" Derek murmurs, close to her ear.

"Not at all." She reaches up to touch the side of his face. "What can I say? You're full of surprises."

Then she smiles at Zola. "Looks great," Meredith says heartily. "Okay, it's late! Everyone in bed."

"In bag," Derek corrects her quietly, and she gives him a gentle shove.

There's a fair amount of pushing, wriggling, and cuddling, some of each of the above even mutual, before silence descends.

"Everyone's in? I'm going to hit the light," Derek announces. Meredith sees he's holding the cord in his hand.

At their approving noises, he clicks it.

And the room descends into darkness.

Total darkness.

Like … black hole darkness.

Except much louder than a black hole, because Zola whimpers nervously, and Derek is rustling the sleeping bag's waterproof fabric, seemingly trying to get to her, and Bailey is wriggling breathily on top of Meredith, calling her name loudly.

"Okay. It's okay!" Derek calls, for all their benefit apparently, then lowers his voice. "Zozo, I've got you. Okay, we'll find a way to make it less … dark."

Bailey sniffles a little into Meredith's neck and calms down, wriggling away from her.

"Your nightlight is here somewhere, sweetie," Derek continues soothingly, then pauses. "Well. The one in your new room is built-in. But I'm sure we can go through the boxes, and …"

His voice trails off.

"I'm okay," Zola sniffs.

"You are? You sure?"

"Yeah," she says bravely. "I don't need my nightlight if everyone stays here together."

"We're staying here together," Meredith assures her. "No one's going anywhere."

"Not when we can't see, anyway," Derek mutters next to her, for her ears only.

And then a few pinpricks of light filter down from the ceiling.

"Look, a skylight!" Zola's voice sounds enchanted. "It's so pretty!"

"Yeah, it is." Meredith reaches for Zola's hand. She ends up with one of her feet instead, but figures it's close enough.

"The clouds must have just parted," Derek says. "Look at those stars."

For a few moments everyone is silent, admiring them.

"It's like camping," Zola says. "Kind of. Right, Daddy?"

"Right, Zo."

"Wait. Who has Bailey?"

"I do!" Bailey announces.

"Stick close, buddy."

"'kay," Bailey says agreeably, and Meredith hears a rustling sound as he settles down again.

"Mommy … these sleeping bags are loud."

Zola's breathing settles, then Meredith hears Bailey giggle, and Zola squeak with surprise.

I learned a few things from those observing those happy families. Carol Brady with her shiny helmet hair, Mrs. Willoughby with her home-baked brownies … I was watching you, and I listened. So. What are happy families like?

Well, for one thing, happy families maintain proper boundaries between the authoritative parent and the obedient child. The parent is firm.

"Zozo," Derek says, "just, uh, just wondering … is there any pillow over there left for me?"

The children obey unquestioningly.

"You can share with Mommy," Zola suggests sweetly.

Little boys in happy families … they always act like gentlemen. Chivalry isn't dead – these well behaved boys watch out for the ladies in their lives.

"Mommy, Bailey's foot is on my face," Zola complains, as some of the blankets billow around.

"No!" Bailey shouts.

"Bailey, take your foot off Zola's face," Meredith instructs.

"Now it's on my face," Derek interjects.

"I think that's his other foot," Zola says.

"How many feet does he have?"

Little girls in happy families … they're ladies in training: polite, demure, and soft-spoken. They shy away from anything unpleasant and use ladylike language at all times.

"Now Bailey's butt is on me," Zola giggles, and Meredith hears Derek muffle a snicker in response.

"Butt," their son repeats with delight, "butt," demonstrating his razor-sharp ability to repeat only the most offensive words in a given sentence.

"Just move him – gently – toward me," Meredith suggests.

The moments that follow sound like two lions fighting over prey.

"That's better," Zola says happily.

"You good too, Bails?" Meredith asks a little nervously.

"Good," he repeats with equal parts cheerful and sleepy in his voice.

Above all, in happy families, the husband and wife must always be their best selves in front of each other, and the children. Decorum. Always decorum. They might discuss the weather, or upcoming holidays, but they avoid the vulgar at all costs.

"Bailey, you better not pee on me while we're sleeping," Zola says loudly.

"Sweetie…" Meredith fumbles for Zola's hand and ends up with – someone's foot instead. "He's wearing a pull-up," she assures her daughter.

Silence descends.

"You put on his pullup, right?" Meredith asks, turning in what she thinks is Derek's direction.

"I thought you did," Derek's voice responds from her other side.

"Um…"

"Did anybody put on his pullup?" Zola asks, sounding panicked.

"It's okay, Zozo," Derek says quickly. "We'll just do it now, and what are the odds that he's going to – "

He stops speaking.

"Mommy?" Meredith feels a cold little hand gripping her leg. "Wet."

"You're not the only one, buddy," Derek says, sounding like he's trying not to laugh.

In happy families, the mother and father set flawless examples at all times. Children won't be perfect if their parents aren't, after all. So maintain your appearance, your authority, and above all else … your dignity.

"I'll change him," Derek says.

"You're so tired. I'll do it," Meredith offers.

"You're tired too."

"True."

For a moment neither of them speaks.

"Just hypothetically," Derek says, "and I'm not saying I want to, but you know, scientifically speaking … how bad do you think it would be if neither of us changed him and we all just went to sleep?"

Meredith opens her mouth to respond … but only laughter comes out.

Derek joins in, and then Zola. Bailey is the last to crack up, slapping his little hands delightedly on the wet spot on the sheet, making Zola yell, "yuck!" in between fits of giggles.

And that's what happy families are like.

Okay, I couldn't resist. I just love the McFamily's McFamily Time. That said, as much as I've enjoyed moving day - and moving night - the next chapter will involve a little time jump. There will always be hefty doses of fluff, but Meredith and Derek are serious about using this time for their family, and that means the hard stuff as well the fun. So happy you're on this journey with me. I hope you will review because I love hearing what you think. See you next time!

PS The end monologue/scenes are inspired by an episode of Once and Again, a seriously underrated show (on which Patrick Dempsey had a remarkable series of guest appearances), involving different characters reading out loud from a stuffy wedding guide in voiceover while very nontraditional but loving actual wedding preparations took place.