I own nothing! Thanks yam for the idea!

It happened slowly, so slowly that he hardly noticed it happening at all. Then one day, it happened all at once.

His apartment had changed.

It had started out simply, with a pair of house slippers. Except the normal house slippers hadn't been good enough for her - at least, he didn't think so. So he'd replaced them with a luxurious pair decorated like Cinderella's glass slippers - ones that had a price tag that would make her faint.

Then he'd noticed her frown down at herself after trying to teach him to cook. She'd gotten oil on her shirt. So his kitchen had gained some flowery aprons. With pockets, of course, since all good aprons have pockets. At least, that's what he'd read in the reviews online. She looked adorable in them - and the smile she gave him when he wore one made everything worth it.

That's when the fun kitchen objects started - a spatula shaped like a heart was first, followed by a far less functional whisk of the same shape. Then he found a set of measuring cups with Bo on them, and well, he just had to get the matching spoons. The fond way she'd rolled her eyes had only encouraged him to get the coasters, too. When putting them away, he'd realized how hard it was for her to reach things, and he'd moved everything down to within her reach.

One day, she'd brought a trivet shaped like a lotus and left it on his stove. She'd been tired of always getting sauce on the stovetop when resting a spoon. Slowly, the kitchen that had been nominally his became more and more hers, and then wrapped around to being theirs. From the fluffy hand towels to the cute fridge magnets he'd picked out when thinking of her, it was theirs.

Then she'd moved in with him, and it had become true.

The first night, he'd been too wrapped up in the concept of holding her in his arms to notice she slept on his side of the bed. But when the first rays of light had awakened him, he'd realized it. His room looked so strange from this side. All of his things were in the other nightstand. This side of the mattress felt foreign. He'd almost decided to ask to switch back - but then she'd let out a little sigh in her sleep and cuddled against him, and he'd lost that train of thought entirely. Along with the ability to form coherent thoughts. So when they'd gained a couple of decorative pillows, he hadn't even questioned it. She could do whatever she wanted with the bed as long as it was theirs.

The main bathroom had also gotten nicer - and brighter, somehow. Maybe it was the tea lights. Or maybe it was the extra towel hanging next to his, sweet with the scent of her soap. Perhaps it was the fact that her toothbrush sat in a cup next to his. But it was probably the fact that he now knew what it sounded like when she sang to herself, vocal cords warmed by the humidity of her bath.

He'd never bothered to decorate his living room when it had just been his. There hadn't been any personal photos or mementos - there hadn't been anything he'd deemed worth remembering. Now, though… dozens of framed photographs decorated the mantle, the walls, and the side tables. Shots of her and of him and of them - living. Their friends made appearances in many, as did his family. His favorite was a shot of her beaming at him from where he'd stood behind the camera - a shot he'd taken on their first couple's trip to Day Joweyland. She'd been explaining something and turned around mid-sentence. He's captured the moment, and she'd blushed a vivid shade of red when he'd had it framed.

Then there were the plants. Ribbon plants - commonly known as spider plants. One of her friends had given her one when they'd moved in together, and, as spider plants do, it multiplied. They now had at least a dozen. She'd taken to giving baby plants to co-workers at the end of a role, and they still had way too many. The ones in the kitchen and bathroom were particularly happy, soaking up the moisture in the air.

His apartment had never been so alive as when it became theirs, and the guest room had never had such varied use. Friends and family alike crashed there on nights when it was too late for them to go home, just like she had once upon a time. She once made the mistake of looking in the closet there, and had encountered an avalanche of gifts he'd been hiding, waiting to find an excuse to give to her. She'd thrown her hands up in the air at that and he'd caught them, pulling her into a little dance. She'd wound up laughing hard enough that she hadn't gotten upset about the sheer number of presents.

And he hadn't realized how much his apartment had changed until one day, when it all hit him at once. His apartment had become a home, because of the one thing that had remained the same.

Hizuri Kuon and Mogami Kyoko were, irrevocably, in love.