Title: Spring Comes Late to Colorado (inspirational Harlequin is "Strictly Temporary")
Author: KittenKin
Rating: Teen
Spoilers: None (AU)
Warnings: Minor character death, babies tugging on heartstrings
Summary: Part 2. WIP. Full summary available in part 1.

Shocked immobility was pretty much the only option at first as the two men took in the situation, but a fussing infant in a bloodstained towel was not exactly something that could just be stared at blankly for long; it demanded attention, and that right quick. Kurogane was the first to thaw, and a short snarl to Fai to make himself useful snapped the blond out of his daze as well. Soon the slender form was dashing around the store under Kurogane's direction and a makeshift bassinet was made out of a nest of clean shop towels layered in a tiny doggy bed on top of the counter, next to the coat and gloves that Fai had hastily shed. While Kurogane gingerly unwrapped the terrycloth burrito, Fai recalled everything that he could about how his taxi ride had begun and ended.

"I was walking out of the hospital and saw Kenny - the driver - walking toward the cab," Fai explained. "I thought he was a fare and asked if we could share, but it turned out he was the driver."

"Was he picking someone else up?" Kurogane asked, glancing up briefly with a thoughtful frown before resuming his extrication and examination, moving slowly in case the blood on the towel was from injuries that he didn't want to aggravate. "And what hospital?"

"Mercy, and no, not that I know of," Fai replied, frowning thoughtfully and tapping his chin with one finger. "Now that I think about it, cab drivers usually stay in their cars when picking up a fare anyway. Maybe...hmm, maybe he dropped the mother off and had to carry her inside because she'd fainted. Maybe that's her blood? And if she was unconscious, she wouldn't have been able to tell him that her baby was still in the cab."

"In a duffle bag? What mother does that?" Kurogane asked dubiously, though in the back of his mind he decided it wasn't impossible that there were drug-addled women who thought that a carry-all could carry anything including their baby. "And how'd he not notice the baby in the first place? How'd you two not realize there was a baby in the cab on the way, for that matter?"

"It must have been in the back, brought in without Kenny noticing, or else he wouldn't have mistaken it for being mine," the blond surmised with a shrug and also a grimace shivering over his face at the thought of this tiny little life put in such a precarious position. "And I never heard a whimper until I brought the bag into your store."

"Where you immediately dropped it," replied Kurogane sharply, and despite the obvious horrific consequences, Fai was taken a bit aback at the veritable snarl that this was spoken in. He blinked and leaned back slightly as if fearful that the snarl would be followed up by a snap of white teeth, and quickly moved the conversation along.

"Kenny got a phone call on the way up from his dispatcher," the blond mentioned, "saying that he needed to call the police. And he had to leave me here because crime scene investigators needed to go over his taxi cab for possible evidence. He was nice enough not to involve me in it but perhaps this baby is the 'evidence' the police are looking for? It's not exactly traveling in a C.P.S.-approved manner."

"'She', not 'it'," came the correction, as the shopkeeper's initial triage was completed. The rest of what Fai had been saying passed without comment. The task at hand consumed almost all of Kurogane's attention, leaving little for hypothesis and theory. He preferred to deal with realities anyway.

The stand-in baby blanket had been bloodied but it seemed to have all been someone else's blood and not the infant's; a disturbing enough thought on its own, but still better than the alternative. The ruined fabric was crumpled up and tossed over the counter to disappear somewhere behind it. Besides having been bundled up in a towel the baby was also dressed in footed pajamas of a pale pink with some tiny little pattern scattered over it, or rather half-dressed; the young man press ganged by fate into serving as a field pediatrician had unsnapped the garment and given the baby a careful going-over with keen eyes and careful fingers, checking for injuries.

Fai kept silent and watched with great interest as the grumpy, growly shopkeeper went over the tiny creature with unexpected gentleness. The lightly fuzzed head was caressed, each limb was felt over, each joint manipulated, and finally the baby was lifted again into those strong arms and hefted for a while as if the shopkeeper was trying to guess at the weight of a cantaloupe. All this contact and attention seemed to soothe the infant, and instead of wrinkling up her face and keeping up her whining, the baby was calmly gazing back at those ruddy eyes with blue-grey orbs of her own.

It was like watching a grizzly bear grooming a kitten.

"Seems like she's in one piece, with nothing broken that I can tell," Kurogane finally said, with relief plainly present in his tone. He sighed, laid the baby girl back into the plush pet bed and began fastening her pajamas back up, starting at the ankle and working his way up her body toward her collar. She was no longer whimpering, but squirmed restlessly when set down and twisted her little mouth about as if working her way up to a cry of protest.

"She should be okay for the drive back down so long as you don't try to drop her again."

"What?" Fai looked blankly at the other man, and got looked at right back as if he were an idiot.

"Does this look like a daycare to you?" Kurogane asked with asperity. "Get on the phone and call the hospital where you were. Have them find out if any of their recent arrivals are missing a baby and tell them we're on our way." And with that, the shopkeeper turned and stalked off toward the back of the store, weaving a slightly circuitous route through the aisles and picking items off of the shelves as he went. He left two fair-haired strangers at his register, one no less lost than the other, save in different ways.

The owner of the store disappeared into the back for long enough that when he finally reappeared, he was nursing a slight anxiety that the spoiled little rich boy might have harmed the infant through sheer ineptness and ignorance. Unhappy noises were issuing from the fleece-lined pseudo bassinet, quickening Kurogane's steps, but he slowed to a halt by an end-cap at the sight of the blond doing his level best to address the fussing. Sadly, it seemed that Fai's "best" was founded on zero experience and hardly much more practical theory. Kurogane leaned against a display of crackers and cookies, cocking an eyebrow over the way Fai was offering flowery apologies in a sing-song lilt and giving hesitant little pats as if consoling an old lady for the untimely loss of one of her budgies.

"I do apologize for the accommodations but I'm afraid there wasn't any time to prepare something more suitable for you," the hotelier said anxiously. "Poor dear, this padding isn't even memory foam or anything, is it? If my housekeeping staff were here I'd make sure you had the softest jersey cotton sheets you could want, but I'm a bit displaced myself you see, so please won't you be a dear and stop crying? Please?" Those pale hands gave the squirming baby another hesitant pat.

Kurogane almost felt sorry for the poor bastard, clearly out of his depth here and sounding more desperate than the child for some sort of succor, but the mention of maids to cater to his every whim brought the shopkeeper's hackles back up. With an irritated growl at himself for thinking even for a split second that the man deserved any pity (or admiration for doing his pathetic best, or to be found amusing because there was nothing amusing about a Fluorite), Kurogane strode forward and dumped the laundry basket and olive green knapsack he'd been carrying onto the floor, making Fai startle.

"She's not an alarm clock; quick whacking her."

"I wasn't!" Fai protested with a quick laugh, and then gave the taller an absolutely pathetic, utterly fake look. "I just don't know what to do with babies."

Kurogane snorted. Obviously.

"She sounds so unhappy; I'm afraid something's wrong," continued Fai, either not noticing the derisive noise or too spun up over the infant's fussing to care.

"Of course something's wrong," Kurogane replied with a long-suffering sigh. If the blond thought these frustrated little whimpers were the worst noise a baby could make, he was probably going to be in for a nasty shock in the next few hours. When babies were really unhappy, they made sure everyone within earshot shared their unhappiness.

"Strange place, strange faces, strange voices...babies like routine and security and she's got none of that right now." He didn't bother explaining how he knew this or what to do. Instead he reached out without another word and picked the fusser up, supporting her neck until she was draped against him, little head snug under his chin and limbs tucked up as if she were a tree fog suction-cupped to his chest. A large, tanned hand gave the diapered rump a few quick pats. There there. The big blond dork isn't chattering nonsense at you anymore.

The cessation of mini-wails was instantaneous, and Kurogane tried not to feel smug about such a little thing as this. Or to hesitate a little too long over the feel of having a baby fitted so neatly against his body. He gave the little rear end a few more pats before carefully clearing some space on the countertop, which was looking more like a changing table instead of a check-out counter.

"I wish I could do that with all my customers," the hotelier mused, and Kurogane turned to face him fully and just stare at him. Despite all his prejudices and preconceived notions about the man's probable lack of morals and common sense, that last comment had just been a little too stupid to let pass without obvious judging. He just got a blank stare back at first, and then a lightbulb seemed to go on.

"Hm? Oh! Not cuddle them and give them a smack on the butt," Fai laughed, and the taller found himself unaccountably relieved that the idiot wasn't that idiotic. "I meant soothe them so naturally when they're upset. I'm pretty good at customer service but sometimes a guest just wants the impossible, and...well." Blue eyes drifted further and further away toward the end and it seemed like the blond was remembering more than conversing. Kurogane found himself interested at the brief flicker of discomfort and suggestion of a blush that he thought he could see before the sunshine smile came back out (and perhaps "the impossible" was not just unicorn-shaped mints on the pillow but that blond head, too), and then got irritated at himself for being interested.

"Speaking of impossible, I don't suppose you made that call like I asked you to."

"Miracles happen," Fai replied, pulling the cheer out at full force again as if to cover for his slip. "I did indeed, although I didn't find out much. A young woman was dropped off shortly before I left and they think it's possible the infant is hers, but she's in surgery, so she obviously won't be answering any questions for a while yet."

"Surgery?"

"They couldn't give me any more information than that," Fai said, giving Kurogane a politely apologetic smile. Probably the same smile he turned on customers who expected that waving a title or name or platinum card around guaranteed their ability to extend a stay for two more days during a convention week. "They don't even know who she is; right now she's Jane Doe."

"What about your friend, Kevin or whatever. If his dispatcher was in contact with the police, maybe he'd know more."

A pale eyebrow quirked momentarily at this, reminding Kurogane that he actually hadn't been a part of that conversation; only overheard little bits and pieces. He didn't feel any need to excuse or justify himself to a Fluorite of all people, but he did give a little shrug as if to admit his eavesdropping and argue that it was hardly worth making a fuss over at the moment.

"You mean the cab driver? Kenny?" Fai queried back. "I just met him at the hospital. He seemed rather flustered by the police involvement; even if I could track him down through the name of his cab company I doubt very much he'd tell me anything confidential."

"What, you're strangers? You two were chatting all buddy-buddy. You were sending messages to his wife and kid, weren't you?"

"His schnauzers, actually. It's a long drive," explained Fai with a light laugh, showing off teeth that seemed entirely too pearly to be natural. "Some people like a little light conversation to pass the time."

"Some people think it's a waste of time," Kurogane growled, not a little perplexed by the idea of spending so much time and breath on a person that you'd very likely never meet again. What was the use of getting so chummy with a random person that you'd want to be remembered to his dogs, for God's sake? For Kurogane, conversation was a necessary evil for the most part, to be cherished only with a precious few. It was like a bottle of fine alcohol; why waste it on strangers? He suddenly remembered how Fai had attempted to drag him into conversation when they'd first met, too, and they were hardly more likely to ever meet again, since Fai only came up to the cabin a couple of times a year and had never stopped by Kurogane's shop before.

Whatever it was that drove the blond's mania for conversation, however, the fact remained that they still didn't know anything about the baby that fate - in the form of a leggy blond - had unknowingly deposited on Kurogane's doorstep.

"Well, whatever," the shopkeeper grumbled. The baby snuffled and squirmed against his chest, reminding him of his current priorities. He found himself wanting more and more to just get rid of these two strangers and get back to the peace and quiet of his regular routine. The baby was too warm and heavy and comfortable and the blond was more interesting (beautiful, with changeable eyes like what Kurogane imagined the ocean to be like) than he had any right to be. "Let's just get her fed and changed and then take her back to the hospital. Grab that basket for me."

"Shouldn't we just get her back as soon as possible?" Fai asked, even as he bent to sweep up the laundry basket as ordered.

"Like you said, it's a long drive up from the city," Kurogane replied, and shook his head half in a simple negative and half in resignation at how clueless the blond was about anyone not old enough to order room service. "Babies need more than three squares a day." There was a hastily warmed up bottle of infant formula in the basket along with some very basic baby maintenance items, and he continued using the other man as an assistant, snapping out orders for this and that. He was not going to drive down the mountain with two whiny infants complaining in his ear the whole way.

Kurogane set the squirmer back into the pet bed and started unfastening her pajamas again, much to her discontent. Diaper duty called, and despite the unsavoriness of the task and how long it had been since he'd last had any practice, the man was not about to entrust the blond with it. The baby would end up with the diaper tied around her like a tutu. It wasn't exactly like getting back on a horse, but it was simple enough of a thing and soon enough he had a clean, powder-scented baby neatly bundled back up in her footie-pajamas and burrito'd in a clean pillowcase from his closet. He'd grabbed bottles, powdered formula, diapers, wipes and baby powder off of his own shelves because MacGyvering that kind of stuff was just asking for trouble, but the pragmatic man figured that a wrap was a wrap, and a pillowcase good enough to serve as a baby blanket for a few hours.

"Gimme your hand," he commanded while surveying his work, and then dropped a warm, rather smelly diaper into Fai's upturned palm with a barely concealed smirk. The diaper was neatly wrapped with the velcro-like end tabs snugly fastened because Kurogane was not quite so cruel or desirous of having a mess made in his store, but the blond's reaction was still quite satisfying. Kurogane was well into his twenties, but a bit of childishness still lingered, perhaps.

"Aah!" Fai cried out in disgust, startling the baby and kicking off a fresh gush of high-pitched protests, and then the man was frantically casting around for a waste bin. A quick search turned one up right on the other side of the counter from where Kurogane stood once again soothing the infant, and the storekeeper received a glare in return for the trick. The bloodied towel had been neatly dropped into the waste bin, so it was obvious that Kurogane had known exactly where it was and could have tossed the diaper away himself.

"Never gotten your hands dirty before?" Kurogane asked, with an effort at making sure only derision entered his tone and not any of the amusement he was feeling. He was sure that all that family's hands dripped with money and blood, but all the dirt and grease of honest work was probably fastidiously manicured away.

"Is this how you treat all your customers?" Fai countered. He was still glaring, but the effect was rather ruined by the fact that he couldn't keep his mouth from twitching into a smile despite himself.

"You're not a customer," the shopkeeper reminded the man pointedly. And even if you were, you'd still be a Fluorite. Kurogane did not do any self-examination on the point of how he did not actually treat those he despised in this sort of manner. Those he liked got grudging respect and rough-edged kindness and an occasional taste of his humor. Those he disliked got ignored. Kurogane was standing there hating the man but acting like he was family, and didn't even realize the disparity in his thoughts and manner.

As for Fai, at the reminder that he hadn't yet done anything except distract the shopkeeper from his work, soil the floor with his wet boots and almost drop a baby on the floor, the hotelier had the grace to look embarrassed and discard his petulance. It should have surprised Kurogane, since he was assigning the man all sorts of character defects like vanity, selfishness and entitlement, but it didn't.

"Oh, right. Well, I'll pay for these things," Fai offered, gesturing at the box of diaper wipes and other baby goods now littering the countertop, but Kurogane shook his head and then tried to hand the fussing infant off to the blond.

"Forget it, just feed her for me while I close up shop." And get the two fair-haired strangers the hell out of his store. And life.

Handing off the baby did not go so simply as handing off the diaper. Fai backed away as if Kurogane had shoved a box of cobras at him, even raising his hands and stammering a bit as he tried to make clear his lack of qualifications to be appointed the child's nurse even temporarily. The taller just stood there for a moment with the little girl still suspended in his two hands and one eyebrow raised at this over-the-top reaction before sighing in exasperation.

"It's easy," he said with exaggerated - and probably unconvincing - patience, raising his voice just enough to be heard clearly over the infant's increasingly noisy wails. "Just hold her in one arm like a football and use your free hand to stick the bottle in her mouth." When the other man looked as if he might continue to protest, Kurogane gritted his teeth and then growled an ultimatum, increasingly irritated at the delays. Why couldn't people just do what he said to do? Or at least leave him alone? Or at least not drop babies into his life like a stork with no sense of direction?

"Look, I am closing up shop and driving this baby down the mountain. And soon, because there's a storm due tomorrow. You have two choices; get out and start hiking or help me and maybe earn yourself a ride to your cabin." His original, unspoken idea had been to just ditch the blond at the hospital and let him try to find another driver willing to take him to his cabin, but Kurogane threw in the offer of a ride as bait.

The choices were not very choice, but one was suicide and Fai apparently not wanting to die today. After a few seconds of helpless hemming and hawing, the blond grabbed the baby bottle out of the laundry basket and plunked himself down on the floor atop his folded-up coat, which he grabbed off the counter and threw down for a cushion. Kurogane thought the man could have managed standing up, but considering the non-impossibility of Fai actually dropping the baby again, it wasn't a bad idea to have them stay low to the ground.

Pale hands were lifted up hesitatingly but Kurogane gestured them back down before kneeling in front of the unwilling nanny. He carefully set the infant down into Fai's left arm, her head nestled into the crook of an elbow and the rest of her draping along a forearm. Once the weight of the little body was on him, Fai instinctively cradled her close, and seemed almost surprised at how simple a thing it was to carry a baby one-handed.

Getting her going on the bottle was also cake and pie. Her mouth was already open as she made rather angry little rawrs and mews, and as soon as the latex nipple hit her lips, she latched on eagerly and started suckling away. Fai looked up at Kurogane in delight, mouth open in a big smile.

"She's drinking!" he exclaimed, and for once Kurogane didn't want to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious.

"Good job," he replied absently, listening to those muffled clicks and smacks that made up the proper soundtrack for a nursing infant. Ruddy eyes were fixed intently on the infant as she in turn stared up at him, dark blue eyes wide open now that she wasn't scrunching her whole face up in unhappiness. She blinked and then looked away toward the man holding her next, and Kurogane ended up doing the same except in reverse order. He glanced up to Fai's face and then blinked at finding himself being stared at by this blue-eyed stranger as well, and with such an expression.

There was hardly any actual expression worth describing; Fai's face was mostly calm, but there was something to the slightly widened eyes and the millimeter of space between those lips as if he'd forgotten to close his mouth all the way after speaking. As if he'd forgotten because he'd been caught by surprise somehow, and by Kurogane...by proximity or some look or word, and now he just stared. It was the same look that he'd given Kurogane over by the shelves of alcohol, and got the same reaction this time as well.

"What?" Kurogane asked shortly, irritable because he was uncomfortable. Because there was someone in his shop and space and life and he didn't want that. And before Fai could respond, the dark-haired man surged to his feet and stalked away, escaping into the back again.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Fai and his little charge were left alone for a longer time than before, but the minutes seemed to have passed easily. When Kurogane returned from locking up with his coat, gloves and keys in his hands, the two were still as he'd left them, only now the bottle was empty and resting on the floor. Fai had one hand free now and had it very lightly, almost hesitatingly laid across the baby's legs. He looked up at the sound of footsteps and gave Kurogane a mixed look; part triumph, part terror. Thin lips parted and mouthed something slowly and exaggeratedly.

What do I do?

"You talk out loud like a normal person," Kurogane replied blandly, tossing his things onto the knapsack that was still on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Fai hissed frantically as the little bundle in his arms burbled and twitched slightly. "She's going to wake up."

"She's not going to stay asleep long. I'd bet my car that you didn't think to burp her. Give her to me; I'll do it while you get ready." Not that Kurogane wasn't willing to let the blond risk soiling his overpriced clothing with spit up. He just didn't trust the idiot to know how firmly you needed to pat a baby in order to move air bubbles around. Fai seemed both relieved and distressed at giving the baby up, and once his arms were free did not pick up his coat or put his gloves back on. Instead, he stood and hovered, lips pressed together as he gazed at the child who was now free of the pillowcase-wrap and being lightly bounced.

"Why are you jiggling her around like that?" the blond queried anxiously.

"It's easier to burp 'em when they're awake," Kurogane explained, and then blew lightly in the baby's face. "Oi, Jane Doe. Wake up."

"Girls are Roe, not Doe," the blond corrected in a quick, automatic manner. "And babies are Precious, not Jane or John."

Whatever her legal designation was, the voices, movement, loss of warmth and puff in the face all combined to do the trick, and the baby woke up with a displeased scrunch of her features. Step one complete, her current keeper laid her over his shoulder and began patting her firmly on the back while eyeing the hotelier dubiously.

"Precious Roe," Kurogane said flatly, unwilling to believe something so stupid-sounding. It hung in the air between them and he could practically hear the name being tossed around inside that - probably otherwise empty - head.

"We could call her Caviar."

"No. God, no. Get your coat on." Pat pat.

"Boutargue? Ouriço do mar?" Fai asked over one shoulder as he turned to grab his gloves from the counter.

"What the hell is...no, never mind. Just shut up and get ready." Pat pat pat.

"Something more Asian? Ikura? Masago? Karasumi?"

"Will you cut that out? Does the baby look Asian to you?! How do you even know what that stuff is?" The last question slipped out before Kurogane could remind himself that he wasn't interested in anything about the stranger.

"Well, no," admitted Fai, peering around Kurogane's shoulder at the baby's face while shrugging on his coat. "She looks more like me than you. And I run a place on the west coast called--"

"I know who you are and what you do," interrupted Kurogane, with a sudden return of a biting edge to his voice. He'd been returning irritable growls for all of Fai's banter but now he sounded truly angry, and the blond immediately shut up and took a half step back, blue eyes wide in surprise. Right on the edge of the moment turning awkward on one side and unnecessarily antagonistic on the other, the baby squirmed, mewled, and then let out a deep, bubbly belch that went on for a good two seconds at least.

"Oh my God," Fai exclaimed, shock making his jaw drop. "Was that the baby?!"

"Wasn't me," replied Kurogane, unfazed. He gave the infant a few more bounces and pats, but that one monstrosity seemed to have been it. She settled comfortably against him with a little murmur, seemingly perfectly ready to go back to sleep. He gestured over to the counter with his chin and began issuing orders again now that Fai was suited up against the cold, though it took a few repetitions before those big baby blues tore themselves away from the little gas-bag.

Kurogane bundled the baby back up in pillowcases while Fai packed the doggie bed into the laundry basket under the shopkeeper's direction. The pet bed served decently well as a bassinet for an infant too young yet to roll over and crawl away, but the dark-haired man did not want to have to worry about the baby sliding out of the scoop-shaped opening along one side, or the pet bed itself sliding off the seat during a sharp turn. The laundry basket provided high walls on all sides and had holes for handles that a seatbelt could be looped through besides, and was the best Kurogane could rustle up in the way of a car seat. His store did not carry everything.

Clean, fed, comfortable and warm, the infant submitted to being set down again without a peep of protest. The makeshift quality of her blankets and bedding seemed not to disturb her at all, her sense of aesthetics being as undeveloped as her motor skills. That part of the "get the strangers the hell out of his life" plan went smoothly for Kurogane.

None of the rest of it did.

Fai was capable of following directions, but seemed incapable of actually doing so without questioning said directions. He worried aloud that little fingers might get caught in the weave of the laundry basket, and when Kurogane showed him how the baby's hands were pretty well immobilized by layers of pillowcase, only switched over to worrying that the baby wouldn't like being "mummified" like that. The taller explained - with a long-suffering sigh - that babies liked being wrapped snugly because it reminded them of being in the womb. While Fai thankfully did not question this bit of wisdom, he still looked a bit dubious and kept peering closely at those chubby little cheeks and buttoned-up eyes as if almost hoping she'd start complaining and prove him correct.

"Stop gawking at her; you're going to go cross-eyed," Kurogane said dryly. "Come on, you ready to go?" He shrugged on his coat, stuffed his gloves into a pocket, picked up his keys and knapsack, and then paused for a moment to watch his companion. Fai knelt, made a few tentative grabs at the handle, finally seemed to get a grip he liked and then lifted the basket up as cautiously as if it contained a bomb.

...and then turned and began mincing toward the front.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kurogane asked with a sigh, and Fai turned and blinked at him.

"To the door?" came the reply, in about the same tone of voice as a schoolboy giving an obviously incorrect answer because it was the only one he had. Kurogane didn't know whether to sigh yet again or smack his head against the countertop. How spoiled, sheltered or stupid was this man?

"You can't take her outside wrapped in nothing but a few thin layers, and I don't keep my car buried in a snowbank. Just wait in the office while I warm the car up." He jerked his head toward the back of the store and then moved forward himself to lock the front doors that Fai had been heading toward. That done, he followed the other man - overtook him and passed him - and went on into the back of the property. There was a little office and restroom facing each other across a hallway, the door to the garage, a narrow staircase to the second floor, and then it all opened up into a large storeroom full of shelves and boxes.

After holding the door open - for the sake of the basket's occupant, and not out of any other impulse - Kurogane passed through into the garage where his Audi Q7 sat with a week's worth of dust on it. He always washed it after hitting the roads to keep dirt and road salt from hastening the vehicle's eventual retirement, but otherwise did not waste much time in keeping it meticulously groomed. The inner workings were maintained religiously - up here, not keeping your car in good working order was on par with letting your supplies of water and fuel run out - and he was normally neat enough that the interior didn't need much more than a cursory pass with Windex and a vacuum once in a while, but that was it.

The vehicle came with enough of a price tag that most owners put a great deal more care into its appearance, but Kurogane had only splurged on the Q7 because it had so much more torque and storage than most of the other snow-worthy vehicles rumbling around the Rockies. He didn't have a family or five friends and their skis to squeeze into the SUV, and he wasn't one of those jerks who revved their engines like they ran their mouths, but monthly trips down into the city to pick up whatever he couldn't get delivered went much more smoothly when he wasn't worrying about blowing a piston or constantly elbowing a box out of his ribs. He'd had a Forester before, but after building up enough irritation at the cramped interior he'd ditched the Subaru and brought the Audi home instead.

The vehicle obediently came to life at Kurogane's command. He didn't pamper the vehicle but he did have a very well insulated garage and a block heater. The garage door was opened a bit to keep carbon monoxide from building up too quickly, and Kurogane ducked outside to check the driveway. He kept it decently shoveled and the day proved not to have been so stormy that the accumulated snow presented any problems, so after a cursory look around he walked back through the garage and stepped back inside.

One hand supporting him on the doorframe, he leaned into the office but frowned at finding it empty of both blond and baby, though the basket was sitting on the floor. The empty container got frowned at in mixed annoyance and confusion, but it yielded no confessions. Kurogane shoved aside the little shard of worry prickling at his chest (he heard no thin cries in the darkness, no wails ringing in his ears) and continued his search. The bathroom door was open and the lights off, and a quick check of the storefront showed it to still be deserted as well. Cursing the idle curiosity of a city idiot with ADD practically bred into him by a lifestyle where everything was on-demand and microwavable in less than three minutes, Kurogane began stalking down the hallway into the storage area.

He stopped dead as the ceiling creaked.

So far Kurogane hadn't exactly been generous in how much credit to give to the stranger but apparently he'd given the man some, because he was surprised when he realized - with a rush of hot anger - that his private space had been invaded. Biting off a curse between gritted teeth, he trod heavily up the stairs and had the satisfaction of hearing a guilty patter of quick steps rushing to meet him at the top. An acidic series of comments on modern notions of privacy and respect was on the tip of his tongue but he threw them away after a moment of consideration. Fai had certainly earned a chewing out but Kurogane wasn't going to waste his breath and energy. He hoped to see the back of the man before the next day was out; it wasn't anything to him whether or not the idiot ever got his moral compass fine-tuned.

The footsteps were right at the door now, which was slightly ajar, and Kurogane waited in the corner of the landing. He was unwilling to risk running into the other man at speed and possibly smash-sandwiching the infant between them like an unfortunate little dollop of jam. Lucky for the hotelier. If Fai had been up there alone, Kurogane might have been tempted to grab the man by the collar and throw him down the stairs. A shadowy form filled the slight opening and then a boot delicately toed the door open, revealing an appropriately contrite and ashamed Fluorite. The expression was thrown away on the scowling homeowner. If anything it even angered Kurogane further, thinking of it as he did as merely an act to soften his righteous indignation.

"I'm sorry," Fai apologized immediately with a hesitant smile. He held the baby against his chest as Kurogane had done earlier, and if he thought of the child as merely a possible shield against the other man's temper it didn't show in the way he carefully cradled her. "I didn't--"

"I don't care," Kurogane growled, interrupting whatever the blond was going to say. Didn't realize Kurogane had come back inside, didn't think it was a problem if he stuck his little nose wherever he wanted, didn't want to stay downstairs and do as he was told...whatever it was, Kurogane was certain it would irritate him. He didn't feel too far off from snapping and possibly startling the baby into crying, and that was definitely not something he wanted to hear right now (ever) either.

"Just get downstairs." Kurogane turned and led by example immediately after delivering this order, letting the unspoken "or else" linger in the corner like an angry ghost. Soft footfalls followed him down, slow because Fai literally watched every step, leaning over while plotting out the next cautious toe-tap. He held the infant in such a way as to get every last centimeter of contact he possibly could, cradling her not just with his hands, fingers splayed out, but with his forearms as well. Kurogane hit the bottom quickly and turned and waited, watching, noticing the almost paranoid care the blond was taking and finding himself softened by it...bemused and amused.

...and then irritated and annoyed at himself for being so. It felt like blinking off a dazzle some street magician had cast over your eyes and then realizing how onlookers were giggling at you behind their hands.

The damage had been done, however, and when Fai hit the ground floor Kurogane was not unduly surly with him. The baby was placed back into her makeshift traveling assembly with the same care as she'd been brought downstairs. Once the basket was lifted up again Kurogane wordlessly herded the other man out into the garage. He stopped to lock the door behind him and then opened up the rear passenger side door, and when Fai sidled up Kurogane took the laundry basket from him and set it down inside. The blond hovered, trying to peep at the baby while she - or rather the container she lay in - was being buckled in, but the shopkeeper's broad torso blocked the basket from view and Fai soon gave it up and opened up the front passenger side door.

"Oi, not there," Kurogane said, deep voice muffled slightly as he spoke with his head still ducked into the car. "Other side."

"I'm driving?" Fai replied, clearly surprised at this thought, and Kurogane re-emerged with a snort.

"Hell no. Get in the back and watch her. Make sure she doesn't turn her face into the blankets or start to slide off the seat."

Fai looked no less startled now than he had a moment ago when he thought he might have to be the one to tackle the narrow mountain road in the dark in a strange car. Kurogane thought the pale face might have even turned a shade paler, and on impulse, gave the man a rough pat-smack on the back by way of encouragement. And to get the waffler into the car.

"Just tell me if something happens and I'll tell you what to do," Kurogane said, not wanting to freak the other man out by listing possible scenarios requiring intervention. If the nervous ignoramus suddenly found out about spit-up and colic and S.I.D.S. he'd probably refuse to get in the car at all. The reassurance seemed to do the trick and Fai got into the car without further delay, and when Kurogane got in himself and then glanced back he snorted to see that the blond had secured himself into the middle seat, the better to stare obsessively at his charge.

"You look like a vulture hovering over her like that," he commented. "Get behind me, stork; you're blocking the rear view."

"Stork?" Fai laughed lightly while unbuckling and re-seating himself off to the side.

"Tall, scrawny bird-brain who dropped a baby into my hands," replied Kurogane wryly. "Stork."

"The stork has a name," came the light, lilting reminder from the back, but Kurogane just grumbled something impolite and put the car in reverse.

"The grizzly bear has a temper," Fai then whispered noisily to the laundry basket.

"What, Kurogane said flatly, turning around again, ostensibly to check behind him as he pulled out into the driveway, but also to level a dark scowl at his passenger. He was blithely ignored however, as the baby chose that moment to snuffle and yawn, making a little awpff noise that ended in a little mewl of a sigh.

"No growling, grumpy bear; the little kitten is sleepy."

"Keep that up and I'm going to strap you to the roof for the rest of the drive."

"But then who would watch our little kitty?"

"Shut. Up."

"Sorry, my little bird brain didn't understand that last one," the blond trilled, and then went back to making small talk with the baby.

Kurogane resisted the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel, instead contenting himself with a deep sigh and a reminder to himself that murder was illegal. After punching the proper button on the remote control for the garage door with slightly more force than was strictly necessary, making the plastic creak in protest, he threw the car into gear and began the long drive down the mountain.

"Hyuu~ I hadn't noticed before but Mister Bear has a nice car."

The long, long drive.