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Aoko woke to an empty bed, the sheets cool where Kaito should have been. She frowned, rolling onto his side and pressing her face into his pillow—it still smelled like him, that faint mix of cologne and card tricks that had become as familiar as her own heartbeat.
(Stupid Kaito. Where did he wander off to this time?)
She sat up, rubbing her arms against the nighttime chill. Ever since they'd gotten married, her body had developed this ridiculous habit of missing his warmth the moment he was gone. It was embarrassing, really.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar—typical Kaito, always slipping away silently like the phantom thief he used to be. Aoko slipped into her fluffy rabbit slippers (a gag gift from him that she secretly adored) and padded down the hallway.
She was halfway to the kitchen when she noticed the nursery door was open.
(That's strange. I definitely closed it before bed.)
Her pulse quickened as she crept closer, peeking through the crack in the door—and there he was.
Kaito stood bathed in moonlight, gently swaying with their three-month-old daughter cradled against his chest. His voice was softer than she'd ever heard it, humming some silly made-up tune that still managed to sound sweet.
Aoko bit her lip to keep from laughing when he switched to whispering dramatically:
"Listen close, my little magician-in-training. Tonight's lesson is very important." He adjusted his hold, grinning down at the baby. "Rule number one: Always keep your poker face. Especially when Mommy tries to steal your dessert."
Aoko rolled her eyes, but her chest felt suspiciously warm.
Kaito's expression softened as he traced their daughter's tiny fingers. "You have your mom's nose, you know. And her temper." He chuckled when the baby yawned. "But that's okay. Daddy's good at running away."
He carried her to the window, pointing at the stars. "See that one? That's Sirius. In Egypt, they believed it was the soul of Isis watching over—" He broke off with a laugh. "Ah, who am I kidding? You just want to chew on my tie."
Aoko pressed a hand over her mouth. (Idiot. Adorable, ridiculous idiot.)
Kaito's voice dropped to a murmur. "Just between us... when Mommy told me about you, I messed up six card tricks in a row." He nuzzled the baby's forehead. "You're my greatest magic, you know that? More amazing than any heist."
Aoko's eyes stung. She backed away silently—this moment was theirs.
Back in bed, she'd just curled into a sulky ball when strong arms wrapped around her from behind.
"Miss me, Ahoko?" Kaito's breath tickled her ear.
She elbowed him halfheartedly. "You're freezing! And you woke up Hana!"
"Liar. She was already awake." His lips brushed her shoulder. "Besides, someone had to teach her the Kuroba family secrets."
Aoko turned in his arms, cupping his face. "You're such a dork."
"Your dork," he corrected, grinning.
She kissed him before he could say anything else—slow and deep, savoring the way his breath hitched. When they parted, his usual smirk was nowhere to be found. Just raw, open affection that made her stomach flip.
"You're my favorite audience," he murmured against her lips.
Aoko tilted her head up. In the moonlight, she could just make out the softness in his eyes—the look he only ever wore for her and their daughter. She traced his jaw with her fingertips.
"You were singing to her."
"Wha—? How did you—"
"I saw you." Aoko smiled at his flustered expression. "My big, bad phantom thief, reduced to baby lullabies."
Kaito huffed, but his arms tightened around her. "Tch. Like you're any better. You cried when she first grabbed your finger."
Aoko ignored the jab, sliding her hand down his chest. "We're having another one."
Kaito's breath hitched. "...Another what?"
"Another baby, idiot." She poked his ribs. "Hana needs a partner in crime."
Her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, smirking at his sharp intake of breath. "Unless the great Kaito Kuroba's finally found something he can't handle—"
His sudden laugh vibrated through her as he pulled her closer with the words "Best. Heist. Ever."
In a flash, she was on her back, Kaito looming over her with darkened eyes. "But you're playing with fire, Mrs. Kuroba."
Aoko arched into him, relishing the way his voice had gone rough. "Prove me wrong."
For a heartbeat, he just stared at her—really stared, like he was memorizing every detail. Then his lips crashed against hers, hot and desperate.
When they broke apart, gasping, Kaito pressed his forehead to hers. "...Really? You want another one?"
Aoko carded her fingers through his hair. "I want everything with you," she whispered. "Our crazy, magic-filled life... our perfect little girl..." She nipped his lower lip. "And the next one, who's definitely getting my brains and your inability to follow rules."
Kaito's laugh was breathless, shaky with emotion. He kissed her again, slower this time, pouring every unsaid word into it—the years of stolen glances, the whispered promises under stage lights, the way he still looked at her like she'd hung the moon.
"Think you can handle twins?" he murmured against her throat.
Aoko's breath caught as his hands slid under her nightgown. "You're on, thief."
The moonlight spilled over tangled sheets and muffled laughter, as Aoko, wrapped in Kaito's warmth and the scent of roses he'd somehow produced without her noticing, she thought—
(No magic in the world could compare to building a future with him.)