“Kip?” I called softly as I walked into his house's kitchen.

I moved in two months ago, and I feel totally at peace here. Fern slept better, I managed to rest more, and we laughed all the time with Kipling.

My bedroom was set next to Kipling's, Fern's across the hall from us. Kipling owned a beautiful single-story farmhouse, the exterior made of white slats with navy blue trim around the windows. The covered front porch was held up by wooden posts on brick, and he had already bought metal furniture for it with red cushions. Each window had a black metal awning that matched the metal of the roof, and there was an attached two-car garage with wooden doors. The back of the house had a massive covered patio that had a swing for two adults, a few chairs, and a jacuzzi. Next to that was the built-in area for a grill, and Kipling had bought a picnic table to have a nice place for lunches and dinners in the summers, the entire patio wrapped in mosquito netting. The backyard had a heated in-ground pool that was surrounded by a metal gate, and past that was a mini forest. There was a gated area for a garden that was at least a quarter of an acre, and in its own pen was a chicken coop. All of it was new; the previous owners of the house had just built everything two years before they had to move, and Kipling had bought it as soon as possible, spending weeks turning it into a home. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were entirely open, and wooden beams running along the ceilings were made of the same dark wood as the floors. He had repainted every room from a dark burgundy to white to make it seem larger and more welcoming. The kitchen had granite countertops, white cabinets with black hardware, a brick backsplash that wrapped the entire kitchen, stainless steel appliances, and a small island in the center of the kitchen. The dining room had a long wooden table with a bench on one side, the rest having beautiful wooden chairs that were painted black to match a hutch and built-in bar that took up most of the wall behind the table. He had found two light gray sofas, and behind the one that separated the living space from the dining room was a long, thin, tall table with four bar stools meant to allow you to eat and watch television. The television was mounted above the fireplace, which sat next to the door to the back patio. There was one hallway that led to every bedroom and bathroom in the house. The first two doors on the left were two of the bedrooms, and then a large bathroom. Across from them were two more rooms and a half bath at the end of the hall before you came into the living room. The master bedroom was behind French doors, and I thought the way he had set it up was adorable. There was a king-size bed between the two windows in the room, with pink pillows, a large tan quilt, and a blue rug under the bed to add warmth. Underneath the windows were gray nightstands with lamps, and to the right of the bed was a beautiful bathroom with a double gray vanity, two extra shelves for space to do your hair or store bathroom supplies, and built-in shelves for towels next to the shower. The final feature I loved was the walk-in closet in this room, big enough for two people, with a dresser set in the middle for things you wouldn’t hang. The spare rooms were empty, minus two that he had set up. The first was Fern's nursery, and I squealed when I saw it.

The nursery was the original bee theme I had wanted that Dara had talked me out of. The walls were cream yellow, her crib, dresser, changing table, and rocking chair were white, and he had hung a beautiful yellow canopy over her crib, the way he had at his parents. There were bumble bees, hives, and flower stickers all over the walls, along with the wooden letters that held her name over the crib. I had nothing else to buy for her when I moved in, Kipling had already purchased her highchair and swing for the living room, and it left me simply filling her closet and drawers.

My room was identical to Kipling's, but instead of pinks, he used lavender. I had forgotten how much Kipling loved pastels, and it was a welcoming and warm home to live in.

“Hey,” he nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey at the dining table, “Why are you up? It's 3.”

“Bad dream,” I wiped my nose on my sleeve, and Kipling came over, wrapping me in a tight hug, “You can't go anywhere, okay?”

“Hey now, where would I go?” He laughed, his voice rumbling through me as I had rested my head on his chest, “I'm not going anywhere, silly.”

“Promise?” I leaned back, and Kipling cradled my cheek before nodding, “Okay. Why are you up?”

“Same reason. My own stupid, misplaced fears. Don't worry about me. Go back to bed.”

“But-”

Kipling interrupted me, putting a hand over my mouth and shaking his head, “It's bedtime, little. You shouldn't be up. I'll make you breakfast before I head to open the shop. Okay? Sleep.”

I nodded quickly, hugged Kipling, and went back to my room, locking the door behind me. My heart was racing, and I felt my stomach tense. It was rather confusing that such a normal interaction with Kipling left me turned on, but I decided it didn't matter.

After climbing into bed, I pushed my shirt up and slowly started to play with my chest, a whimper coming from my throat. I knew that the house was mostly soundproof, but I flipped onto my stomach, biting the pillow before sliding my hand into my briefs, finding how wet everything was.

“Ngh,” I panted softly after pushing a finger in, my thoughts on Kipling.

It was no secret to me, at least, that I had feelings for Kipling and had since I was little. To think of him touching me this way set me on edge, my body shivering a bit.

“K-Kip,” I whispered, shoving my hips against the bed as I released, trying to stay as quiet as I could, “Oh… what's wrong with me?”

Chewing my lip, I quickly changed my underwear and cleaned my hand, burying both in the bottom of my laundry basket. Fern's crying came through the baby monitor, and I started to go get her when Kipling's voice came through.

“Oh, doll,” Kipling sighed, “Why are you up too? Your daddy wakes up, now you. Do I not get to sleep?”

I giggled softly, listening to him talk to her.

“There we go. Clean butt. Can you sleep now?” Kipling laughed, “Ya know… Can I tell you a secret? Since Daddy is asleep. He's never noticed, has he? That I love him. Well, he knows I love him, but not in the way I actually do. I'm in love with your daddy. I have been for years. But he never noticed,” Kipling sighed again, and I covered my mouth, staring at the baby monitor, “At least he had Eddie. He got to know what love was, and it gave him you. I love you so much, Fern. If only Ren knew and could accept how I felt. We'd be able to grow into a happy family.”

I squatted on the floor, crying softly. To know that Kipling felt that way I did made me immensely happy, but I wasn't sure how to emotionally handle this. Wiping my eyes, I slowly made my way to the nursery, where I found Kipling putting Fern back into her pajamas.

“You're supposed to be asleep,” Kipling laughed, his back to me.

“I just wanted to check on Fern,” I fidgeted with my sleeves, “Is she okay?

“Totally fine. Her diaper was just wet, and I know she hates sleeping with it that way.”

“Here,” I held my arms out and Kipling carefully handed Fern to me, her pacifier going a mile a minute as she fought against sleep, “You get some rest. I’m not the one who has to work tomorrow. Fern and I will clean and get some shopping done when we wake up. I’ll make dinner, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh, but-” Kipling started, and I shook my head.

“Go to sleep.”

“Hey! You don’t get to boss me around,” he pouted, crossing his arms.

“Someone has to, or you won’t take care of yourself. Go to sleep, Kip. You’re only going to get a few hours at this rate.”

“Ugh,” Grumbling, he gave me a hug and pressed a soft kiss to the side of my head, “Fine. Goodnight, little.”

“Goodnight, Kip.”

Kipling left a soft kiss on Fern’s forehead before leaving the room, and I climbed into the rocking chair to put Fern back to sleep. She still wasn’t sleeping entirely through the night, but it was rare she didn’t. I rushed in here when I heard her cry, not wanting to wake Kipling.

I sang Fern a lullaby, rocking her slowly, and once I saw her go still, her chest rising slowly, I shifted her to the crib and headed to my own room, deciding it was best to sleep.

“So,” Edward called in my dream, the world around me nothing but clouds, “Kipling?”

“You already knew,” I scoffed, “I’m not with Kip. He’s just… always meant so much to me.”

“I know. You mean the world to him. Used to piss me off. The way he looked at you. You were mine after all.”

“Until you cheated,” I kicked his shin, and Edward laughed, looking up at the emptiness above our heads.

“Yeah, until I cheated. Do you forgive me for that?”

“Yeah, I’m over it. I can understand why you did it. We got together really young, it doesn’t surprise me that you wanted to know what being with someone other than me would be like. It does suck you died before you got the chance to experience that though.”

“But you won’t,” he poked my nose, and I laughed softly, “You don’t get to die for another… hm… 70 years or so.”

“Goddamn, I’ll be old.”

“Dara has 40. Emily, his girlfriend you haven’t met but will, has 45. Kipling has 72.”

“Kip will outlive me?” I gasped, and Edward nodded slowly, “But he’ll be lonely…”

“Nah. He’ll have a bunch of kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids taking care of him.”

“With me?” I tilted my head, my hands clasped in front of my chest, and Edward gave me a noncommittal smile.

“I could tell you. Do you want to know?”

“I… need to. I think. Yeah. It’ll give me strength.”

“As of right now, yes. To answer your question. But nothing is ever set in stone.”

“I get that. How many kids?”

“Right now, seven.”

“Holy… shit. Wait, one more question before you go!”

“Okay, Jesus,” Edward snorted when I grabbed his arm.

“Will any… be like me?”

“I believe so, but remember, things can change the same way the tide does. Don't get so caught up.”

“I won't. We’re gonna need a bigger house,” I whispered as the world around me started to fade, “Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Goodnight,” Edward smiled, and I slowly woke up.

I wasn’t foolish enough to actually believe it was Edward coming to see me when I slept like some guardian angel. But I wanted to believe in what these dreams told me. That I would get to build a huge, beautiful family with Kipling in this farmhouse. A dream I had since I was little, one that could realistically come true if he ever saw me as more than a little brother.