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 3. WIP. Full summary available in part 1.

The long, annoying drive turned out to not be quite so annoying nor anywhere near as long as Kurogane darkly predicted to himself as he drove down into and through Elk Ridge. Instead it was short and shocking, and he would have been glad to trade it with a promise to drive from his store to the Fluorite hotel in San Francisco with Fai in control of the radio the whole way.

Having once clued in to the fact that nicknames and silliness were slightly more effective than what seemed to be his habitual sweetly suave charm at prying sentences out of the shopkeeper, the blond kept up a running dialogue with his fellow passenger. The infant was mercifully asleep, lulled by the thrum and vibrations of the vehicle, and therefore blissfully unconscious of the stupidity she was being bombarded with. Kurogane, on the other hand, was peppered with the nicknames he'd unthinkingly kicked off until Fai finally teased more than just a short snarl from him. The dark-haired man envied the baby her unconscious state and cursed his own tongue and temper for providing entertainment to the stranger in his back seat.

The only thing he could think of to be thankful for was that his passenger seemed not to have any more liking of casual touch than Kurogane did himself. The babble could be tuned out with some effort, but if Fai started clinging or playing with his hair he'd have to stop the car so that he could break the man's fingers.

Once a conversation of sorts was established - impolite as it was on Kurogane's side - Fai cheerfully started up with his questions again. All the initial information-gathering attempts that had failed at the store were re-launched, and while the shopkeeper did not answer them graciously, he ended up giving away little scraps and shards of his history and private life just to minimize the petulant accusations of "the big growly grizzly bear" being as stingy with words as with honey.

...which was doubly stupid, because Kurogane hated sweets. But to avoid the whining, he answered the less invasive questions such as whether he'd lived here all his life (yes) and how long he'd been running the store (a few years). Queries about how he liked living here, whether business was good and the customers pleasant were all answered in much the same manner; everything was fine. He denied having any particular favorite colors, hobbies, animals or sports and claimed to eat, drink and listen to just about anything. More personal inquiries concerning reasons behind facts and choices and realities were flatly ignored and invariably followed by an exchange of silliness and snarls until Fai managed to gain a conversational toehold again.

Though the topics remained light and Kurogane's replies ultra-terse, Fai did not run out of things to say. They ran out of road first.

They left Elk Ridge behind and were only ten or so miles in to the main mountain pass when Kurogane came face to face with a wall of rock and snow rising up in his headlights. It was just around a sharp turn and he'd turned his head to look at the back seats for a split second, and so it took him by such surprise that it was like the mountain had suddenly decided to jump out in front of his car. The tail end of his umpteenth snarl to Fai to quit calling him Mister Grumpy Bear for God's sake was cut abruptly off, and after a split-second's freeze Kurogane bore down on the brakes firmly and steadily. He kept the car pointed straight since he was caught between rocks and a null space to the right and left. The Audi could handle a bump on the nose, but bringing down more rocks with a shuddering scrape against the mountainside or taking a swan dive off into nothingness were not viable options.

Kurogane stared blankly through the windshield even after the car came to a halt inches away from the rockslide, heart pounding and hands aching from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. It wasn't the unexpectedness of Mother Nature's little tricks that had him struggling to breathe, but rather the memory of how, on seeing that wall of white and black rising up before him, he'd thought for a split second that he'd been so distracted by Fai that he'd turned into the mountain instead. He'd almost jerked the wheel to the left to get back onto the road and avoid the mountainside, and if he'd followed through with that thought instead of realizing...

He forced his hands to open and his arms to unlock, and with a slow, shaky breath, twisted in his seat to look back at his passengers. The baby was right where she was supposed to be - and in no critical state if the strident cries at being so rudely startled awake were anything to go by - and the basket she lay in was secure in its seat, held by both a seatbelt and a pair of thin arms flung out to encircle it.

Fai's entire body was out-flung, in fact. He seemed to have thrown himself violently to the side and was now staring up at Kurogane while lying almost prone across the middle seat. One long leg was crooked up and braced against the back of the driver's seat, and that and the seatbelt now half-strangling the blond seemed to be the only things keeping Fai from face-planting the edge of the laundry basket.

"I'm sorry," Fai whispered in a pause between the baby's yowls, wide-eyed and paler than ever, and Kurogane frowned because he didn't know what else to do. If the slender form was some sprite with power over weather and earth and a truly miserable notion of mischief that was one thing, but otherwise the dark-haired man could see no reason for the apology.

"What?" he asked, his own voice not much more than a harsh whisper, as if they were both afraid that talking too loudly might bring down more of the mountainside on top of them. Never mind the infant crying lustily in the laundry basket.

"For distracting you."

Ruddy eyes stared a moment longer as he absorbed the fact that Fai was taking on the blame for this near-tragedy, when it was Kurogane's fault for letting himself be distracted. Fai was an ignorant city-dweller who obviously couldn't be expected to know how to behave up here in the fresh air, while he himself knew damned well that these roads demanded respect, and even now Kurogane could hardly believe how easily this strange stranger got under his skin. The solitary shopkeeper was a master at ignoring, shrugging off and shutting out. How had he come to be bickering back and forth with this idiot as if they were two kids picking at each other across a picnic table?

"Forget it," he said dismissively, neither accepting the apology nor agreeing with the need for it. "Just sit tight." With no warning or explanation, he unbuckled himself - telling himself that his hands were shaking because of cold and adrenaline, and not because the crying of an infant was ringing through the car - and got out to take stock of the situation. Fai's startled query about where he was going got ignored. Where was there for him to go, after all?

A quick survey was all that he needed to know that they were at once safe and in great danger. He'd stopped the car quickly and steadily enough that they were still solidly in their own lane, but they were definitely not going to be able to proceed as planned. The Audi's headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating the blockade of rock and shredded shrubbery well enough for Kurogane to see that it would take at least a day or two for road crews to clear it away, and that only if the weather stayed clear enough for them to get up here and work. A thin wind whistled up the road, pushing some snowflakes ahead of it and making the shopkeeper none too optimistic. That storm was already on its way.

He paced around the car, shoulders hunched against the cold seeping through his coat and frown growing deeper as he eyeballed distances. There were two lanes but they were narrow things with no shoulder on either the mountain or cliff side, and his vehicle wasn't exactly tiny. It wasn't as if he was driving a Chevy Suburban or limousine by any means, but the math still made him uneasy. Unpleasant though realities were, they had to be faced, and he bit off a curse before walking to the rear driver's side door and opening it up so that he could lean in and talk to his passenger.

"Grab her out of the basket, hold her inside your coat and get out," he said without preamble, raising his voice slightly to speak over the whistle of the wind and the baby's continued complaints. Fai was leaning over her improvised carseat and cooing at her soothingly but she'd already proven to be the sort who needed all-out cuddling to calm down and was having none of it. "I have to turn the car around so we can head back up." Instead of immediate compliance, Fai withdrew his hand from the laundry basket and looked at Kurogane as if doubting his hearing. Or the other man's sanity.

"She'll freeze!" the blond protested. "Why would we have to get out? It's not like our combined weight is going to drag the car off the road as you drive."

Kurogane clenched his teeth and wished the hotelier was more timid, less logical, more easily cowed and swayed and bullied around...anything that would let the dark-haired man avoid lengthy - and awkward - confessions.

"Just do it, all right?" he snapped impatiently, and then added an explanation to bolster his orders when the other man remained firmly planted in his seat, making no moves that spoke compliance. "I can get the car turned around but it'll be close and I'll be able to concentrate better if you're both safe over there." (And he wouldn't have to block out the baby's fretting, wouldn't have to sweat as he imagined the grouchy little complaints turning into piercing wails echoing off the surfaces of a car swallowed up by darkness and--)

"Standing out in the freezing cold by a mountainside that's already proven quite clearly to be prone to crumbling is not safe," Fai retorted, but sounding more perplexed with the illogical request than truly angry or annoyed. Kurogane took a breath and tried to marshall more arguments. If he miscalculated, or if the cliffside decided to get in on the crumbling act, he could throw open the door and probably jump out in time but Fai wouldn't be able to pull the same stunt with a baby in his arms. And if one of the rear tires went off the edge, Fai's weight might in fact make an unfortunate difference in their fate, light though he looked. Besides all this, the baby's noise was increasing and one of the prime rules for passengers was always not to distract the driver even under auspicious circumstances, and these circumstances were nowhere near auspicious.

"I just can't. I can't have her in the car when I do this," was what actually fell out of Kurogane's mouth when he opened it, and then he clapped his traitorous lips shut and glared down into blue eyes because he couldn't think of anything further to say.

Fai just stared back at him for a while. Ten seconds, maybe more; long enough for dark eyes to see confusion and fruitless attempts to understand and some strange, nameless pain cross that pale face. Kurogane stood outside the car, his body shielding the occupants from the worst of the wind and increasing snow, hands biting down against the metal frame through his gloves and waiting with a strange sort of desperation. The baby wasn't his, but the baby was his for now. His to keep safe, and he couldn't do it with her in the car.

"I don't know why you think you can't, but you're going to have to try," Fai finally said, and his voice was soft enough that Kurogane was surprised he could hear it so clearly. It was as calm and steady as Kurogane was not, and seeped into the edges of him like warmth from a blanket thrown over his shoulders. The words came out slowly but there was no condescension in them; only the faint hesitation of a man edging out over uncertain footing. "I'll never make it back to Elk Ridge in the dark with snow coming down and a baby in my arms. If you go over the edge it's not going to matter that she and I didn't go over with you. We're still not surviving."

Contrary to what he was saying, Fai then reached down and unbuckled his seatbelt. But instead of reaching over to lift up the baby, he swung his legs out of the car and then hopped out as Kurogane automatically stepped back to make room for him.

"Go really slow," Fai instructed, snugging his hood up and fastening a button just under his chin. "I'll stay right by the car and watch the edge, and I'll let you know if you get too close." He gave the Audi's body a couple of solid thwacks with one hand to demonstrate the proposed warning system and then smiled up at Kurogane. The taller found the expression to be more reassuring and heartening than it had any right to be, considering whom it was coming from, but didn't waste time examining this disparity between his expectations and his reality. The baby was still in the car fretting to herself, but Fai's was admittedly a better plan than having the passengers freezing on the side of the road or remaining in the back of the car, doing nothing but adding to the tension. Logic finally won out over gut (guilt) and the dark-haired man gave in with a nod.

"I'll cut back this way and then pull forward," he said, gesturing to add clarity, and then got back into the car. The infant was fussing harder and working her way up to an all-out cry at being temporarily abandoned - again, the poor mite - and Kurogane twisted in his seat to reach back toward the laundry basket.

"Hey Princess, pipe down for a minute, all right?" he asked. "You're making me nervous." Bracing his feet against the floor, Kurogane stretched back to sneak a hand into the basket to give the infant a little belly-rub through the layers of fabric she was wrapped in, and surprisingly enough she did as requested. Her face has been scrunched up in displeasure but at the jiggle she relaxed, blinked open her eyes and let her last cry taper off into a little rowl instead. He gave her another caress and she squirmed and made a face.

"Yeah, I know. I don't like it either but we're stuck with each other for now, so let's make a deal, okay? I'll take care of you, and you don't make it any harder than it needs to be."

She blinked at him and then blew a raspberry.

"Good enough," he muttered, and then threw the car into reverse. His foot remained hard on the brake while he told himself in no uncertain terms to get a grip, and then he took a deep breath and twisted around to peer out the back window. Fai was a ghostly presence near the gas tank, out of sight unless Kurogane turned the other way in his seat, so he put the man out of his mind and concentrated on slowly and steadily backing the Audi up in a tight curve.

He reversed the car as far as he dared and then stopped, looking over his left shoulder briefly to get a better view of his safety measure. Fai had apparently not fallen off the cliffside, nor had he frozen into a dork-sicle in the middle of the road, but there was no muffled thud-thud or dull reverberations through the body. Gritting his teeth, Kurogane committed his faith - and potentially their lives - to the blond and edged the car back further, now looking forward to judge how much more room he might need instead of staring anxiously behind.

There was still no signal from Fai, but once Kurogane judged that he had room enough he put the car into drive and hauled the steering wheel around, straightening the car out so that it was nearly cross-ways over both lanes. A quick glance was thrown over one shoulder to make sure he didn't mow the blond down, and then Kurogane began backing up again. This time should have been easier since he wasn't heading straight for the edge of the road, but it was still nerve-wracking because he could see Fai right smack in the middle of his rear view mirror. He moved the vehicle slowly enough for a one-legged duck covered in molasses to have been safe from becoming road paté, but he was still uneasy as hell.

Apparently he trusted a duck's survival instincts more than he trusted the hotelier's common sense.

The Audi was now pointed back toward the way it had come. Though he doubted anyone else would be coming down the lonely road at this time of night, Kurogane straightened the vehicle out until it was completely out of the other lane. His foot was firmly on the brake and he'd even begun engaging the parking brake, but when a light vibration shuddered through the car he still stiffened up, clenching the steering wheel so hard he was surprised it didn't dent under his fingers. He glanced out the window but Fai was already opening the rear door and poking his head in.

"Are we done? Even if we're not done can I come back in?" The man's voice aimed at cheerfulness but shivered miserably, and Kurogane felt both amusement and pity.

"No," he deadpanned, and the blond flumped into the car with a laugh.

"Mean old bear," Fai chided, almost stuttering with cold. "Not all of us have shaggy fur and thick layers of fat to keep the cold out."

"Thick layers of what?"

Kurogane checked to make sure the parking brake was fully engaged and then turned almost completely around in his seat to fix the blond with a cold hard glare. His weight began with a two, but he was also six-foot five barefoot and could bench press three hundred pounds without worrying about not having a spotter. He could let the comment about shaggy fur pass since he had no illusions about his hair having anything remotely resembling style, but fat did not have any place in his life except in getting trimmed off his meat and thrown into the trash. He wasn't really all that vain about his muscles - the pre-shower flexes before the mirror were just to make sure he wasn't letting himself go, thanks - but he wasn't about to let anyone accuse him of layering a sleek coat of blubber over them either. Fat meant lazy and careless, and Kurogane did not do lazy and careless.

"Thick layers of wool and cotton?" amended Fai, but his manner was cheeky instead of repentant or fearful, and the adjustment only earned him a tightening of the frown already knitted over narrowed eyes and an impolite-sounding grumble. The blond attempted to pout, but had to give it up after only a brief effort because his teeth were chattering too violently for him to maintain the expression. Kurogane felt a tiny stab of guilt at having made the man stand out in the wind and snow while he chatted with their charge.

"Buckle up," he growled, and then turned around to get the car going back up the mountain. It wasn't exactly an effusion of gratitude, but it was better than the "shut up" that had been forming earlier. The heater was already on high but he turned the fan all the way up and ignored the cheers and muffled clapping from the back seat that ensued.

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

Kurogane pulled back into the driveway of his home and workplace within an hour of leaving it. He felt like he'd aged ten years.

After driving slowly into the garage and cutting the engine he just sat there a moment, taking in a long, even breath and figuring out what to do next. The drive back had been uneventful but he'd kept himself completely focused on the road instead of letting his mind drift even one millimeter to ponder next steps. The blond in the back, perhaps chastened by his recent misadventures, had stayed uncharacteristically silent and the baby had done her part by obligingly letting the car rock her back to sleep.

He moved somewhat mechanically after a bit, unbuckling himself and getting out of the car. It prompted Fai to follow suit and soon they were back in the pretty much the exact same situation as they'd been before, except that the baby had woken up, gotten a hand free and was trying to stuff one dimpled fist into her mouth. She lay semi-quietly in her doggie bed and laundry basket combination, drooling and mwar-ing around her knuckles. Fai, who'd carried her back inside, knelt by her and then looked up with a complicated expression of a sardonically raised eyebrow, soft look and rueful smile topped off with a breathy laugh and sigh.

"Well, that didn't work out as planned. What now?"

Kurogane spared a moment to roll his eyes at Fai's continued love of stating the obvious, then thought a moment and finally shook his head, unable to think of much to actually do. Hindsight offered up the thought that he should have stopped off in Elk Grove and tried to leave the baby - and the blond - at the little clinic. It sounded like an idea good enough to be wistful over, but a second thought on the matter dashed even the misty dream; the clinic was limited in scope and did not operate 24 hours a day besides; he couldn't have left her overnight, much less for two or three days until the road down the mountain was cleared. The police might have been able to find families in the friendly little community that would have been perfectly willing to take in a stray baby, but it wouldn't have sat well with Kurogane. He felt a sort of responsibility for her now (felt protective and possessive and it hurt), and couldn't have just handed her off to some random person and slept easily that night.

Somehow the two blonds seemed like a package deal, and he didn't think long about how he could have dropped Fai off at the lodge and just gone home again with only one stranger in his back seat.

"Call the hospital again. Tell them the road's blocked and there's a storm coming so we'll have to keep the baby with us for at least a few days."

"Here?" Fai asked, looking startled at the thought. He gave a little heave of his palms against his knees and rose to his feet.

"No, the daycare next door," Kurogane replied testily. "Where else?"

"My cabin isn't too much further up the mountain," the blond offered. The taller's immediate reaction was negative and scrawled - scowled - all over his face, but not based on any real reason except that he didn't want to stay at a Fluorite's schmantzy little getaway when he could stay right at home instead. Before he could do much more than twist his mouth at the idea, however, Fai spoke again.

"I have extra beds. All sorts of stuff for weathering unusually long storms, too, like generators - I haven't had to use them before but I know they're well maintained - oh, and a whole wall of firewood, pantry full of water, enough dry and canned food to make a fort, things like that."

The mention of extra beds was given hesitatingly and quickly passed, as if the blond was embarrassed to admit that he knew that it was a good argument for choosing his place over Kurogane's. If he hadn't snuck upstairs he wouldn't have known that there were three bedrooms but only one with any furnishings, and the homeowner's frown knitted a little deeper at the reminder. He had just the one bed and a couch big enough for sitting comfortably but not long enough to stretch out on, and while there was amusement in the idea of forcing Fai to "rough it" it also foretold an unacceptable amount of whining. The three of them riding out the storm at their current location was not exactly ideal.

"I don't have baby stuff of course, but I can finally become your customer," the blond added, rucking back his coat so that he could pat what was probably a wallet tucked into a back pocket. Kurogane automatically glanced down at the gesture and determinedly dragged his eyes right back up once he realized his eyes were tracing the outline of a slim hip. The day had become complicated enough; he didn't need to add solitude-fueled yearnings to the mix. "We'll stuff your car full of diapers and milk and all hole up at my place until the road's clear."

"All of us." It was a simple phrase but fell heavily between them, and Fai's smile turned upside down into a pout, saved from being overly annoying by the flash of real worry in those big blue eyes.

"You're weren't planning to just drop us off at my cabin and leave, were you?"

"Hell no," Kurogane retorted immediately, almost shuddering at the thought of this total incompetent responsible for the safety and well-being of the infant. "Leaving her alone with you would be child abuse."

"Sooo...you're going to drop me off at my cabin and then race the storm back so you can spend three days teaching our little kitty here how to restock shelves?" The little bow of Fai's mouth had turned right side up again and the question was asked with a teasing sort of confidence. The hotelier didn't know how right he was, but he was right, damn him.

Kurogane frowned anew but didn't argue, unable to deny that the care and feeding of an infant was easier the more hands there were on deck. The squirmer at their feet wasn't quite a newborn, but he thought she looked too young to be sleeping through the night just yet. And since she wasn't old enough to crawl around and get into trouble, she also wasn't old enough to entertain herself with a movie or any such thing.

Babies were exhausting.

"I can't just leave the store untended," Kurogane said, making one last effort to avoid becoming Fai's guest. Admittedly, he had no better idea to substitute for the one he was resisting, but his stubborn streaks didn't always go hand in hand with logic and pragmatism. "Sometimes people can't make it into Elk Grove and I'm the only thing between them and starvation or hypothermia."

"You're here twenty four seven, three hundred and sixty five?" Fai asked, one eyebrow cocked dubiously. "You never get sick or go see a movie?"

"I leave sometimes," the shopkeeper snapped, feeling unaccountably defensive about his lifestyle all of a sudden. "But I'm never gone for more than a day without giving advance notice; I can't just take off on a whim. I have responsibilities." He couldn't help adding a bit of bite to the last word, thinking as he did that a Fluorite wouldn't know what it meant if it didn't have the word "fiscal" in front of it. The little jab didn't ruffle or rile the blond however. If anything he only got a little more thoughtful.

"So...what happens if someone drags their poor frozen body to your general store while you're out? Up creek sans paddle?"

"There's a storage shed 'round the side," Kurogane explained with a jerk of his head toward the front door. "I keep emergency supplies in there and a way to get in touch with the Elk Grove police; people can take what they need or even shelter there temporarily. They leave money if they can, and I don't leave so much stuff in there that I can't eat the loss if they don't."

"And the reason you can't just leave notes on your door and in the shed explaining that you're away for the duration of the storm on a humanitarian life-preserving mission is...?"

Fai withstood the glare he was subjected to admirably, despite all Kurogane's efforts to burn a hole through the smartass's forehead with his eyeballs and ire.

"Fine," Kurogane sighed.

"Canned food fort for three?" Fai asked happily, while the baby at their feet gave up on trying to eat her fist and started mewling for attention.

"No," the taller replied in the same tone that men used with particularly dense dogs or stubborn children. Bad Fluorite. No forts. "I'll babysit her. You entertain yourself."

"Mean old bear. I'm providing room and board and buying diapers; can't you unbend a little?"

"Awrlah."

"Speaking of buying diapers," Kurogane persisted, ignoring the idiocy and trying to keep them on track. "I'll get some boxes and you start pulling things off the shelves. We'll need enough for ten days--"

"Ten days?!"

"Umyaw."

"...just in case," Kurogane finished with poorly feigned patience. "These storms usually blow over in three days, but they can last longer. How can you not know this? You've had a place up here for years."

"Well yes, but I don't live here; I just visit. I never bothered to memorize weather patterns."

"Aaawah? Aamph!"

It made sense and even in his own mind Kurogane knew that he ought to concede the point and just move them all along, but he was stressed out and grouchy at the idea of babysitting these two strangers through a storm. (Uncomfortable in his own skin because someone was crawling under it, getting past defenses that had always been adequate before.) The idea of being trapped with them through the storm, living with them under one roof like a little family, disturbed him. Disturbed him right up the wall, across the ceiling and set him down grumpy as hell on the other side.

He felt off-balance, uncertain even about whom he felt the most uncertain about; Fai or the baby. The baby was obvious. Fai...not so much. Not at all, in fact. And so Kurogane found himself antagonistic, not just irritable.

"Typical," he growled, calling up everything he could remember to hate about the city and the people that filled it, as if trying to remind himself why he hated this man. The problem was that he didn't hate the man. Another problem was that he hadn't quite realized this yet and gave his mouth free reign to attack, as if subconsciously hoping to make Fai hate him so he needn't expend so much effort on making sure they didn't get along so well.

"Of what?" Fai queried, blinking in honest puzzlement.

"Aaawr!" cried the baby from the floor, and then suddenly they were all talking practically over each other.

"Of a city-bred brat too used to--"

"Whoa, when was your last rabies--"

"AwwwrrrAAAAAAAAA!"

The two adults had both raised their voices a bit but the baby between them suddenly let loose with a piercing wail that stopped them both cold. The little mite was clearly upset at something, perhaps being ignored or the mounting tension in the air, and far more insistent about putting her own wants forward than Kurogane was about giving Fai an earful or than Fai was about defending himself. The dark-haired man reacted first, crouching down for a moment to pluck the fusser out of her makeshift bassinet and nearly colliding with Fai on the way up as the blond belatedly attempted to get in on the act.

"Hey there. You're fine," Kurogane soothed, tucking the baby close and adding the rumble of his voice to the light bounces and pats he was giving her. The rhythm and repetitiveness of simple lullabies were even more effective at calming upset infants, but he wasn't about to break into song with an audience capable of comment. "Calm down, Princess."

"Precious," Fai reminded him, possibly trying to be helpful. He was neither too chipper nor sullen; more uncertain and unhappy and yet somehow still persistently there and close.

"That sounds stupid," the shopkeeper grumbled, but none too harshly. He was relieved that the other man seemed as willing as he himself was to ignore and step past their almost-fight. The scathing commentary on modern, microwave-minded civilization that he'd been about to unleash had been stupid, even childish and he wanted to forget about it. Fai might be a Fluorite but so far he hadn't really done, said or been anything that actually offended Kurogane. The man was chatty and rather too bubbly and a damn sight too pretty but he hadn't deserved the thankfully aborted tirade.

The baby hadn't gotten upset enough to break into an all-out tantrum and had calmed down fairly quickly as well. She snuggled contentedly against Kurogane now and just made a few last grumbles as if trying to make sure the men fully understood that they had erred and she was much displeased.

"She's got little crowns on her pj's and is demanding as hell," Kurogane observed dryly. "Princess is fine."

"Well if we're just making names up, let's call her Kitten. Kitty for short." The baby yawned and made a little mewling noise at the end of it, causing Fai to laugh and gesture to her with a flourish. "See? It's perfect."

It's stupid. You're stupid. Everything that falls out of your mouth is stupid and I'm stupid for letting it get to me so much.

Kurogane closed his eyes and sighed, biting all these thoughts back and reexamining their plan, looking - hoping - for holes. They needed a place big enough for them to weather the storm without stepping on each other. Fai's cabin fit the bill, unfortunately. The baby needed looking after, which Kurogane could do and Fai could help out with. She also needed supplies, which Kurogane could provide and Fai could pay for. The baby herself even provided something quite as necessary as the other things; enough distraction to keep Kurogane from killing his proposed host.

Oddly enough, when you lumped the three of them together, things balanced out fairly neatly.

"Call her whatever you want," the shopkeeper finally said. "Just stop calling me bear-things, and go get--"

"Aw, but it's perfect. Big growly grizzly bear holding a cute mewy mini kitty," Fai interrupted with a ridiculous smile, cutting off Kurogane's second attempt to get the supply run started.

"And a stupid long-legged stork who can't seem to remember that we have more important things to do than stand around talking while a storm blows in," growled Kurogane. "Go. Get. Diapers."

Fai laughed at him but then turned and started scanning the aisles, so Kurogane didn't have to put the baby down in order to pummel the man into compliance.

"Back half of the store, third aisle from the far wall," the store owner directed, and then began walking away himself in order to retrieve boxes. Ten days' worth of baby supplies was not something that would fit into a couple of paper bags. He disappeared into the storage section of the building and rummaged up some cardboard. He should have put the baby back down into the doggie bed to free up his hands, but hindsight was an uncooperative bitch at the best of times. Kurogane consumed a few extra minutes breaking down the pile of boxes into flat forms that he could carry back one-handed, grumping out loud to the tot who seemed to find him as amusing as Fai did. She squealed and awrr'd and eventually teased a fond smile from him since no one was looking.

He ate up some more time going upstairs to pack a bag of clothes and toiletries for himself, and by the time he was ready to return to the shop front, nearly half an hour had passed. Balancing a squirmy bundle in the crook of one elbow, keeping a duffel bag hiked up on one shoulder and hauling an awkward handful of boxes took a fair amount of concentration, and Kurogane did not notice the pile of goods Fai had amassed until he was almost on top of it.

"What. The hell."

"No?" Fai queried, with a reappearance of the pout. He'd been standing hipshot over the pile with a proud smile like he was playing king of the mountain. At Kurogane's expression, however, the hands on his hips fell away and disappeared behind his back like those of a contrite schoolboy.

"You were planning to pour her a bowl of Cheerios tomorrow morning?" Kurogane asked in exasperation, propping the flattened boxes against the counter and letting the duffel slide off his arm, then toeing a gallon of whole milk. One of three such bottles.

"Well, no...but she needs milk, right? And I thought the Cheerios would be fun for her to snack on," Fai rationalized, and then trailed off as he looked at the other man's expression. "So...no go on bear-face pancakes either?"

The infant gummed Kurogane's shirtfront and then wobbled her head back to gaze up at him with trusting, hazy blue eyes. He patted her and nodded.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I'll protect you."

"That's not fair," Fai protested, though he also laughed. "You knew I didn't know much about babies. A little more detailed direction wouldn't have come amiss, you know."

"Anything," the taller corrected. "You don't know anything about babies. Leave the diapers. Put everything else back. No, scratch that. Hold the baby. I'll sort it out."

This exchange of duties was met with relief and approval, and the blond immediately pranced forward with his hands outstretched. He was a little overeager - or had terrible depth perception - and ended up entirely within Kurogane's private space, sweater soft and warm against tanned knuckles, pale hands settling lightly on the other man's arms to steady himself as he brought himself to a halt. Fai tipped his face up with a little twist to get his long bangs out of his face, and inexplicably just stayed like that a moment, looking up and smiling and just...looking up and smiling.

Before Kurogane could get too uncomfortable (or have too many disturbing thoughts because the man wasn't just too damn pretty, he was inexplicably tempting) the blond dropped his gaze and hands to the infant between them. Hesitant as he had been before, Fai seemed to pick things up very quickly and now he deftly slipped slender fingers under the baby's armpits and lifted her away. It should have been a relief to have the transfer made so simply but Kurogane just stood there a moment, watching and struggling and not moving away like he'd planned. Too many things were distracting him, and one of them was the fact that he was finding so many things distracting in the first place.

The feel of one of Fai's hands worming its way between the infant's body and his. A sharp pang of regret and possessiveness at that warm little bundle being lifted away. Trying not to remember and compare. Being impressed despite himself at how naturally Fai was taking to nanny duties. Wondering what shampoo it was - and it had to be the shampoo, and not anything about the blond himself - that made Kurogane want to lean forward as the shorter man leaned in; press closer and definitely not nuzzle what the hell was he thinking?

As soon as the baby was out of his arms, Kurogane moved away quickly enough that it was almost as if he was jerking himself back. He didn't stay to determine whether or not Fai noticed and turned another one of those puzzled, pondering looks on him, instead stalking away to begin putting away almost everything the well-meaning ignoramus had pulled off the shelves. Fai had mentioned not needing anything for himself and having a goodly stockpile against possible storms, so Kurogane assumed that everything in the heap of groceries was meant for the baby and shook his head or sighed over almost everything he picked up.

Whole milk. Cheerios. Understandable, he supposed. At least the dork hadn't grabbed Cocoa Puffs. Enriched white bread. Peanut butter. Strawberry jelly. Marshmallows. God save the poor mite; had Fai been planning to make PBJs and s'mores? He didn't find any chocolate bars or graham crackers, and when he came upon the ripe bananas and yogurt he realized that Fai had ransacked his store for everything soft enough to be gummed instead of chewed. There was an attempt at logic behind the pile of infant-unfriendly foods and the next time Kurogane shook his head, there was a little twitch at the side of his mouth that could have been a smile.

The items that took the longest to sort out were the jars of baby food. What he thought might be random piles of little glass jars turned out to be individual meal towers in ten neat rows. After blinking at them for a while Kurogane realized that Fai was attentive and observant and really, really clueless. The shopkeeper had stated that babies needed more than three meals per day, and the blond had apparently translated that bit of information into "babies eat like hobbits". There were two breakfasts in each row consisting of cereal and a fruit, followed by two lunches of a random meat and vegetables and another fruit. There was a single fruit jar following the first four towers which seemed to be for afternoon tea, and then two dinner piles that rotated chicken-and-noodles, beef-and-veggies and turkey dinner. Plus the three gallons of milk and other groceries.

The perfect baby food meal plan for a ravenously hungry baby about six to eight months older than the one Fai was holding, plus enough snacks for two or three older siblings.

Kurogane put it all back except for the jars of fruit and squash, just in case the baby proved to be old enough to start on mashed foods. He also kept one of the boxes of infant cereal on the same principle, though he was betting she was still at the formula-only stage. The diapers and wipes stayed as well, being of exactly the same variety as the ones Kurogane had already pulled off the shelves, further proving that Fai was at least paying attention. One extra box of diapers was added because obviously Fai had no idea how often babies needed changing. After he filled a box full of bottles, baby shampoo, rubber-coated spoons and an assortment of little odds and ends, he deemed their pile of supplies good.

Watching Fai's eyebrows do acrobatics as he rang everything up was rather amusing. A Fluorite hardly needed to worry about expenses at this level, but his ignorance about babies extended to how pricey their supplies could get.

"I should call you Caviar," Fai laughingly said to the baby in his arms. "You're expensive, Little Kitty."

Kurogane made no comments of his own, only watching the man do a sort of waltz back and forth with their kitten-princess-whatever in front of the counter. The latest modification of his impression of Fai strengthened; the man knew absolutely jack and diddly squat about infants but was eager and able to learn. After having watched Kurogane, Fai was mimicking the way the taller had held and patted the baby and becoming more used to it with each lightly bouncing step. She seemed to appreciate the effort and put up no fusses, only gumming at her knuckles and occasionally lifting her head to take a wobbly look around while Fai nosed at her temple and smiled.

Kurogane found the sight so charming that he wanted to punch himself.

"All right, pay up," he said gruffly, snapping out of his absent-minded (admiring, appreciative and enchanted) eyeballing and folding together the last box top with more force than was technically necessary.

"Hm? Oh sure," Fai replied, and then danced over to him. Kurogane expected the infant to be handed off, but instead the blond swung his hip around and smiled sweetly up.

"Do you mind?" Fai asked, while Kurogane blinked and refused to comprehend what the blond was obviously asking. "My hands are full."

"Right back pocket," he added, when the shopkeeper did not move.

Kurogane's options were rather narrow at that point; accept the invitation to basically cop a feel or politely decline with a sharp, swift blow to that empty head. Sadly, the presence of the infant did not make the latter option feasible, and he had to settle for something in between pickpocketing and pugilism. It took him a moment to find words and another moment to make sure his voice didn't come out so loudly and abruptly that their little ward would burst into tears.

"Give me the baby and get your own damn wallet," he finally said, grinding the words out slowly.

Fai's sugary little smile twisted and changed into something a little more rueful and real before disappearing behind a ridiculous pout.

"But she's soft and warm and so cuddly," he replied mournfully. "I don't want to let her go."

And I don't want to grab your ass, thought Kurogane. A little voice in the back of his mind immediately contested that point, but he steadfastly ignored it. He didn't voice the thought - or the follow-up - because while he was certain that the blond was teasing him deliberately, he didn't want to say so and give Fai an opening to protest his innocence and perhaps add "naughty" to the "Mister Grumpy Grizzly Bear" nickname.

"You can hold her until your arms fall off when we're at your place," Kurogane said instead, and reached for the infant.

"You'll need your hands free to ring me up anyway," Fai protested, and twirled to keep the little girl out of reach. And his rear end turned toward Kurogane.

"I'll put her back in the basket."

"She might cry."

"She might cry, but I will punch you if you keep arguing with me over every little thing," Kurogane growled, rolling his eyes at how they couldn't seem to do even the simplest thing without getting into a verbal tussle over it. And yet, while he was getting irritated and annoyed all over again, it was markedly different than before. He didn't even bother telling himself anymore that he looked down on the blond for a spoiled, stupid or self-centered idiot; the man was a dork but had more good qualities than bad, and had only shown silly sides instead of dark ones thus far.

If the hotelier had truly been the rotten-souled, black-hearted city sort that Kurogane had been telling himself Fai was, they wouldn't be fighting over who would get to hold the baby right now. The hotelier would have treated the little mite like a distasteful burden to be gotten rid of as hastily as possible. He would have ordered Kurogane about like a servant and very likely pitched fits or threatened legal action when the shopkeeper didn't immediately jump on command. The child would have been dumped on Kurogane like so much garbage and all of the focus would have been on getting Fai to his cabin as quickly as possible so that he could get started on whatever it was that he'd come up here to do; work or play or just stare out the window with a drink in his hand while quoting Hemingway to himself.

Instead, Fai was doing his level best to be friendly and helpful. At least, as friendly and helpful as possible while not doing anything that Kurogane asked - told - him to do. And instead of Kurogane actually doing everything he could think of to kick these two out of his presence and life as quickly and efficiently as possible, he was bickering back and forth with the blond like he was an old friend, comfortable enough to be rough with, close enough not to have to be careful with.

He'd wanted to keep these two unexpected intrusions at arm's length or more, but realities had to be faced. The three of them were stuck with each other for now, and Kurogane gave up on using shallow snap judgments like shields to keep the two fair-haired strangers out of his life (thoughts, interest, heart). It wasn't working anyway. The infant had somehow or the other gotten him at least halfway wrapped around her chubby little finger already, and Fai was standing in his personal space and shining a big brilliant smile up at him while holding the baby securely. Stubbornly.

"I think you might kill me as soon as I give her up," Fai noted, grinning cheekily up at him now and refusing to give up his living shield. Any hopes of her cooperation in the matter went unfulfilled; the baby seemed perfectly content to be the hotelier's hostage and showed no signs of spitting up or shrieking. Seeing no end to the debate, Kurogane gave in before Fai could start teasing him about being too unwilling to go pocket-picking.

"Fine," he grumbled, nipping a sleek leather wallet out of Fai's pants as quickly as he could. "But you're buying some alcohol, too. If I'm going to be sitting out a storm with two high-maintenance babies to deal with I'm going to need a drink." He tossed the wallet onto the counter by the register and stalked away to fortify their supplies with a bottle or two.

"Drunken babysitting?" Fai asked when he returned, voice still somewhat teasing but also sounding honestly surprised. "Bad bear." He gave a nod when Kurogane held up the first credit card he'd come across in the wallet and continued eyeing the shopkeeper wonderingly.

"I do not get drunk," Kurogane replied with asperity. He'd inherited a cast iron liver from his mother and could have put a bad dent into his entire inventory of alcohol without suffering much effect except perhaps becoming a bit more mellow. The tolerance had proved to be a curse of sorts during a time of his life when he'd wanted very, very badly to be insensible to the world but he'd come to be thankful for it in the end. "One drink isn't going to make me clumsy. It'll just hopefully make you a little more bearable."

"You mean you're going to try to get me drunk instead? Naughty bear."

Kurogane cursed to himself as he failed to avoid the "naughty" nickname. He did not grace the accusation with a reply and wordlessly stepped back around with the wallet folded up again and a dark foreboding budding in his chest. Fai swung his hip around, confirming the taller's suspicion and drawing out a much put-upon sigh from the shopkeeper. Not feeling very sanguine about the possibility of winning a second round of an argument he'd lost once already, Kurogane replaced the wallet with the same economy of movement he'd used in removing it and kept his eyes averted so he wouldn't see the knowing, teasing grin that he was sure was on Fai's face.

"Wait here while I load up the car," he said, stooping to stack a box on top of another, but then straightened back up again empty handed as a thought struck him. "And when I say 'here' I mean this room," he added pointedly, one eyebrow up and one finger jabbing downward at the floor.

"Or else I'll feature in the next 'When Bears Attack'. I understand," Fai replied with an exaggerated nod, and then gave a rueful laugh. "And when I say 'I understand', I mean you're terrible for casting that in my face."

"Don't invade if you don't want to get captured," advised the shopkeeper, and then walked away with two boxes of baby sundries. One more trip sufficed to gather up the remaining supplies as well as his overnight bag, and Fai followed him with their little ward once again tucked into her laundry basket and a stream of chatter flowing from his mouth. He escaped the noise for a minute or two when he left the car to do a final lock-check and to leave a note of explanation in the emergency supply shed, but Fai chirped up as soon as he returned.

"Come on, admit it; it'll be fun," the blond cajoled as Kurogane settled himself behind the wheel. "Think of it as a vacation."

"Vacation?" the dark-haired man asked dryly, putting worlds of doubt into his tone.

"Well, an adventure then. Unexpected, unpredictable, a little bit of danger and a good bit of fun."

"I'll give you everything except for the 'fun' bit," Kurogane replied, sparing another sigh while backing the car up - again, and hopefully the trip would be uneventful this time - and pausing in the driveway to close the garage door remotely. "Taking care of a strange baby in a strange cabin with a strange stranger is not my idea of fun."

"Oh come on," Fai laughed brightly. "I'm not that bad."

Kurogane threw the car into park and twisted around in his seat so that he could fix the blond - still smiling but also blinking at him now in surprise at this sudden scrutiny - with a long look. He took in blue eyes and cheeks lightly pinked in the cold air framed with fluffy hair and fur, remembered how he'd jumped to judge upon finding out who the stranger was, and thought of how he'd had to revise his opinions as he'd gotten to know what the man was actually like.

"Yeah, you're all right," he admitted after a moment. No cheers or cheeky commentary burst forth from the back seat as he put the car back in gear and began navigating his way up to Valley Road. It seemed that his sudden about-face had taken Fai by surprise, and Kurogane decided that the admission had been worth it for the few minutes of silence it bought him.