Author's note: To me, it's more than clear why Mama Peppercorn choose Papa long ago, I'm only briefly retelling some of the main reasons. Also, a tad belly love sprinkled over here and there, because of course. Can't leave the white patch without a well-deserved highlight.

* Both don't have official names besides parental status. "Baldwin" and "Bella" just seemed fitting enough to me, and stuck since then as my fan-names for them.

Blink: Baldwin
It is in front of the children that he is "Papa" – even for her, Bella "Mama" Peppercorn. Everyone else he politely asks to call him by last name. Admits he never liked his first name, for nearly everyone used to chuckle at it – but Bella, although she also finds her husband's name quite funny, doesn't even think of laughing. She accepts him – same way she, long ago, had accepted at first sight his every subtle ear-twitch-head-tilt-or-eye-movement ("I'm all ears – look, O my Deity, I'm taking all of you in!"), and the way each wag of his graceful tail seemed to finish every word spoken – or hint at a thought unspoken – In the air; and a purple bow tie – oh, so inconveniently hiding a white spot on his neck, which Bella secretly admired. Right in the very place this spot was beginning to grow into an elegant...

Blink: Belly patch
Plenty of inhabitants of this town have similar ones – just as white on raspberry-pink, even. But does Bella ever care about them, if the only one who swoons, eyes closed, every time she briefly touches it – like soft white velvet – is her husband, and a silent "ah", for her alone, shines soft pink through the cream strands of his sideburns.
And even through the velvety white pelt itself, if you hold your palm on it for longer.
The spot seems to have slightly shrunk over his rounded-out middle – by now. There probably were the days it used to look more tailored to its owner; but what's so bad if it stays this way forever. His paws are still as they were – slender; no big deal if now they have to carry a couple more pounds.

Blink: Bows
I'm just cooking breakfast, Bella thinks, confused and happy at once, I just want to please you and the children; is this really worth it to give such bows... But the way her beloved husband throws up his hands and praises her, as if speaking from the stage – as if his wife is not cooking pancakes, but making a scientific discovery in front of him and an imaginary audience – fills her heart with warmth and joy.

Blink: Breakfast
Bella sure can expect things like an accidental blot of maple syrup past the plate from her three children. That the eldest son Lucky would forget himself and elbow right into the stack of pancakes of his younger brother Pep. Or that the daughter, Pip, contrary to the "No feeding Makiki table scraps" rule, will still give their pet one particularly syrup-soaked chunk, and that said pet (of course) will not only smear his entire face, but reach into the jug, and track syrup pawprints all over the tablecloth. But – Baldwin, she almost screams in surprise, what are YOU doing?! In a mere moment, the tallest golden stack with a top of dark caramel-brown is no longer a stack, but mere ruins, rapidly disappearing, a pair of forks in her husband's paws flickering above them – and, right at Bella, at the children, at whatever is in the way, flies a slanting rain of syrup…

Blink: Blots
Next time I'll put you on a baby chair with a bib, she jokingly reprimands her husband later. How can one even get angry at such a spouse: he was simply goofing around, like their children – or maybe, just had no idea how else he could praise her cooking talent. Off the tablecloth, the syrup will get washed by a washing machine. Off the white living velvet, the spots will have to be licked with Baldwin's own tongue – where it can reach, at least. As for where it can't? His wife can come to the rescue. And she will lick them off until her spouse, raising his paws in defeat, pretends to whine plaintively: that's enough – please, it tickles – okay, okay – I'm guilty.

Blink: Bloat
"...Pancakes are probably already floating in coffee," a thought comes to Bella's mind, while her husband reaches for the coffee pot and pours himself a third cup. The thought seems so funny and awkward that she involuntarily covers her muzzle with one palm so as not to burst out laughing. And jokes out loud: it's all right, honey, fuel up with that coffee even up to your mustache: tomorrow's weekend anyway.
He in fact does seem coffee-logged. Too busy slowly sipping on dark-roasted Brazilian nectar and ambrosia to feel his wife's palm lay on his belly patch. But when he finally opens his eyes and realizes, something else floods him: a burning-hot blush through the sideburns and under his loved one's hand as she strokes – no longer with her palm, but with one finger, lightly – his living water... coffee... balloon of a middle. She doesn't even seem to notice a nervous flick of her flushed husband's tail tip; a whimper that's almost about to escape his throat. It nearly does – quickly fading into a lower-tone short growl of embarrassment, closer to an accidental cough – and her husband lifts his muzzle.
Trustingly revealing the white mark on his neck.

Blink: Butterflies
A purple velvet one, the bow tie, flutters, as if on its own, off the neck of its owner to rest under the bedside lamp. The owners, their words, and their tenderness don't have to be covered with clothes here.
Cream-colored ones – four of them; two smaller and two larger ones – ah, flutter around, can't calm down and find where to sit. They can't see – just feel – each other in the semi-darkness: one moment at a distance, another moment almost entwined. The fingers-wing of one of the smaller butterflies are embraced with the larger one's wing; the second smaller one lands on a raspberry-colored side – right where the raspberry meets white – and flickers, as if ready to take off; the second larger one clings affectionately to a pink back, between the shoulder blades.

Thousands of invisible ones storm around restlessly within Baldwin Peppercorn: as if ready to break through his bright pelt any minute; how have they not broken through yet?..
How did they not break through over the years?..
Ever since the day he hugged Bella for the first time – discreetly, shyly, with only his tail.
On the day they became a couple.
Or the day their names became a kind of secret sign of their own world – because in the outer world, both were now "Papa" and "Mama"...
And until "now".

The invisible butterflies seem to calm down under both his raspberry-and-white pelt, and her pink one.
As both hold each other like a treasure.
Blissfully.