Baby's down, asleep in the nursery upstairs, so you slowly creep downstairs to check on the rest of the house. And maybe also to check on your favorite man.

The backyard was the source of all the noisy woodwork sounds you heard as you were trying to put the little one to sleep. You step out onto the porch, watching as Shane in all his glory busily saws planks out of thick tree trunks.

"Building somethin'?" you ask, striding up, smile on your lips.

He turns his head and his lips, which held four nails between them, curve upward when he sees you. He takes a second before answering, hammering all four into the ready planks so that he's free to talk.

"Bird 'ouse." he answers simply, and turns back to his work like he was embarrassed to admit it.

"A birdhouse?" you question, crossing your arms, amused.

"Don't start, sugar. 'M doing this for you, since yuh used ta' watch 'em blackbirds in the morning." he chuckles, nailing down a little wooden birdfeeder to the base.