You have to be married to adopt kids?

I scrunch my eyes into a glare as I look over the frames of my glasses and at my computer screen. On top of being irritated from all these ridiculous prerequisites, I had to bring one of my good down pillows out to the kitchen to sit on. A certain someone ravaged my ass last night. I've recovered for the most part but I'm still sore.

As much as I hate to admit it, I'm researching the adoption process. I'm supposed to be grading papers, from both my students and Miyagi's, I can't help being curious about what has to be done to adopt a child.

But that doesn't mean anything! I don't even want a dumb kid…I already have one, anyway.

I've already been at it for at least an hour and every page I drift to only offers negative information for my situation. You have to be x amount of years old, you have to be married for more than three years, you have to be this and that….

Soon my thoughts are broken by the muffled jingling of keys outside the door. The crunch of one entering the lock is all I need to sound my mental alarm.

"Shit," I say quietly as I close the internet window. I quickly shut my computer and push it aside, careful not to knock over the tea I just poured myself. My hand seeks out my favorite editing tool, my red pen, as I grab a half-finished essay. Right on cue the door opens.

"I'm home," calls a certain tired voice. He sounds even more run down than usual.

"Welcome back," I reply. We go through this short ritual daily. It adds some much-needed consistency to our lives.

I listen carefully for what he does next. I pick out the thumps of his big shoes coming off, the whisper of his jacket being hung. When I hear him enter the room I pretend to be intensely focused on my work.

I see Nowaki come lumbering in out of the corner of my eye. He's slowly rubbing his forehead and eyes. Definitely tired.

Clearing my throat, I pause from my work to take a sip of my tea. Cold? Didn't I just make it? As I put it down Nowaki passes me from behind. With his free hand he gently squeezes my shoulder and brushes his fingers along my neck. It's a little, effortless gesture, but to this day it makes my heart pound.

"How was work?" he asks warmly. He leans heavily against the back of the couch so he can look at me. I circle a typo on the paper but I don't look at him.

"Fine." I keep reading.

"Why are you sitting on that pillow?" he asks after a few moments.

"Why do you think?"

I feel bad for always snapping at him like that, but I can't help it. It's reflexive.

"But I was gentle last night…"

I snatch up the closest small object - a freshly edited paper - and throw it at him. It hits him square in the face with a light smacking noise. "Don't get cocky! It's because I've been working all day in this stupid chair grading both my students' and Miyagi's students' papers. My back hurts!" I growl, finally turning to face him. At least this claim is half true.

Nowaki just peels the literature from his face to reveal his grin. "I see" is all he says.

I squint at him for a moment longer before busily returning to the essay of a student who is not mine.

Moments later I spy Nowaki looking around the kitchen. "I'm guessing you didn't make dinner?" he ventures.

"Dinner? But it's only-" I start. But what I see on my watch stops my tongue in its tracks. Two in the morning?! "…oh." I guess my research warped my sense of time. I thought I had only been online for an hour or two since I got home…how long was I drifting around cyberspace?

"Don't worry about it," Nowaki says. But I can hear the exhausted disappointment in his voice. Like he's finished, defeated. Though I'd never admit it aloud, I hate to let him down. Because when I let him down, I feel like I'm letting myself down. It boils down to feeling like I hurt myself. My stomach sinks.

Shut up.

"My fault," I mutter. It's as close as he'll get to an "I'm sorry." But at least now I'm actually facing him, my work facade forgotten.

"It's okay," Nowaki sighs. "I'll just go to bed." He stands straight and takes a few steps toward the bedroom. I watch him go. But I still can't believe I was so absorbed in my research that I forgot it was my night to make dinner.

Nowaki stumbles and almost loses his balance. Thankfully he catches himself using the doorframe to our bedroom, but I still practically jump out of my skin. "Nowaki!" I almost shout. I'm by his side in an instant. That's also reflexive.

"No, I'm fine," he mumbles as I help him up.

"You certainly are not. You need to stop exhausting yourself like this, moron." My cheeks get hot when I put an arm around him and help him walk into the bedroom.

"I can't…"

"Why not?" I huff as I help him to the bed. God, he's heavy.

He gratefully plops down on the edge. "You know, I have to look after the children," he says softly after a moment. His eyes close slowly, as if he were about to fall asleep sitting up.

I just watch him for a minute. He truly is the epitome of dedication. "Come on, wake up," I finally say. "You need to sleep."

Nowaki doesn't complain as he cracks open his bloodshot eyes. With a great effort he gets up onto his feet and starts to get undressed.

Well, my work here is done. I start to leave to leave the room when I hear his voice mumble something.

"What?" I say, turning back around.

Nowaki is standing there, his shirt abandoned on the floor. I will my eyes not to travel down his spacious chest. "Come to bed with me," he says softly. His tired eyes are both despondent and endearing. I force myself to look away as my chest tightens up.

What do I do?

"Sorry, I'm in the middle of a paper," I say. I halfheartedly attempt to sound annoyed. He knows I don't just…do things like that. I can't.

He knows, and yet he still offers me the chance. He still opens the door for me just so I can slam it shut.

Well, maybe this time I just gently closed it.

I leave the room, shutting the non-metaphorical door behind me. When I gingerly settle back down on my pillowed chair, I'm faced with my these stupid essays again. I sigh and prop my chin up on one hand, having lost whatever little gusto I had. With my free hand I pick up my cold cup of tea and swirl it a little. The bits of leaves at the bottom swim around in a confused, anxious frenzy around the bottom of the cup.

It's like I'm looking through a window to my brain.

oooOOOooo

Only thirty minutes later do I finally slink into the bedroom, tail between my legs. I know Nowaki won't be getting up, but I still feel so ashamed. I'm sneaking around behind his back looking up the required features of a household to properly raise a child. What am I thinking? What am I trying to achieve?

I go into my bathroom to brush my teeth. I wash my face, too, making sure to slap some sense into myself with some icy water. I give myself a good, numbing splashing before I look up into the mirror. I glare at my reflection.

"Get ahold of yourself," I snarl quietly.

Soon enough I climb into bed. I don't need to be that careful since Nowaki is already snoring away. I face away from him, as I usually do. A part of me desperately wishes he'll wake up and pull me into his arms, but I silence it. I need to focus on sorting out why I feel the way I do about this whole adoption thing. What do I feel, anyway? We haven't even spoken of it since that night. So maybe it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. He can't possibly be serious, right? Surely he must know the prerequisites, too. Like marriage. Which, in our case, is illegal here.

A-and it's not like I'd ever consider doing that anyway! Two working men, getting married…bah!

I mash my face into my pillow to hide my infuriatingly red blush from nonexistent eyes. My mind is spewing nonsense, that's all! I'm just so tired that I'm getting delirious. Yes, that's it.

I dare roll over a few minutes later. Nowaki has stopped snoring by now, so I have no way of telling whether he's asleep or not. He seems to be, so I relax a little.

I carefully study the man laying in bed next to me. He's on his back, so I have a good view of his moonlit profile.

….Marriage, huh?

My eyes drink in the sight of his face since my brain is too preoccupied to resist. His sloping nose, his familiar rosebud lips, expressive angled eyebrows, his mass of wild yet controlled charcoal hair….

…And, and! And his stupid brat face, with his stupid brat smile-!

I feel my placid face ignite. Goddammit! What kind of buffoon thinks like that?!

I growl out loud as I whip my body around again. How dare I fall victim to him when he's asleep! Why, I oughtta smother myself with a pillow right now for having such thoughts!

It's a solid minute before I let go of the angry breath I'm holding. My anger goes with it.

I need to sleep and I can't do it if I'm livid. Simple as that. I give an indignant "Hmph" at the thought.

I close my eyes but nothing happens.

Seconds pass. Minutes pass.

I must be closing in on a half hour before I open my eyes again. I give a defeated sigh.

Dammit.

With a steady stream of quiet curses leaving my mouth, I inch closer to Nowaki. Backwards.

And I swear, when our skin makes contact he releases the happiest sigh I've ever heard.