for johnnyzbabe.

When I first thought of this universe, it was with Chicken, Nary a Drop to Drink, and Breakfast fully formed in my mind. Especially Chicken, though, which if memory serves I plotted out in an lj comment with Sandy. Mostly, I fell in love with the idea of Kevin and Brit loving each other, of a perfectly functional, sweet, romantic marriage, of two people in the pop world who *could* have this totally normal home life, with lots of kids and cooking and dancing and all the sweet, silly, sexy, and totally crazy moments that go along with raising a family. My first Kevin/Brit story was In 3/4 Time, in which basically they have a one-time affair because in waltzing together backstage after some big event they just get turned on and have sex. The story was mainly, in my mind, about the emptiness of Brit's relationship with Justin, but it became more, later, because in realizing *why* her relationship with Justin was empty I came to realize that here was this other man who could actually give her what she needed. Kevin is the tall, charming, Southern Gentleman who'll treat her like a lady, but he also treats her like a human being. They're both very human in this univese, and that's what I love most -- you don't really see them performing or touring or any of that; it's all about the reality in their lives, not the glitter. And now that I've rambled, I guess I should move on to the first story...

Story the first: Chicken

Brian gets them a deep fryer for the wedding.

They know it's Brian, specifically, because a different present arrives from Leighanne, with a note saying that it's not her fault, and Kevin could have warned her his cousin was a freak.

Okay, so partly that's to set up the deep fryer going haywire bit, but partly it's also to show that Brian is happy too. Everyone in my universe is happy, of course, because it's my happy!verse, but the fans always rag on Leighanne, and I just wanted this one moment of normal relationship from them, because hey, we are all in love! Brit and Kevin especially, but also Brian and Leighanne (and, ultimately, AJ and Sarah, and Howie and Nick). Happy, people! Happy, normal Leighanne, and happy, normal marriage with Brian!

(To go totally off-topic for a moment, I sometimes think the worst part for Brit of breaking up with Justin in real life must have been losing Chris, Joey, JC and Lance as well. Because you can't tell me they weren't her friends, and then suddenly they weren't. And that just sucks a lot.)

Their first night back, after the honeymoon, Kevin hitches Brit in his arms and carries her over the threshold, even though she threatens to kick his ass if he drops her. He dumps her on the couch, crosses his arms, and says, "When're you making my dinner then, woman?"

Britney raises an eyebrow -- a trick she learned from him -- and he barely makes it to the door to get their bags inside.

Look at the sweetness! *waves arms a lot* Sweet! Silly! Romantic! He carries her in, they banter, he gets her luggage! *waves arms in doo-doo-doo fashion* You *will* fall in love with the secret!backstreet!hetship. You *will* fall in love with the...

When he comes back, she's in the kitchen, contemplating the fryer. He lounges in the doorway, watching her, and a smile plays about his lips.

"Do you know how to use it?" he asks.

Britney snorts. "I'm a Southern Lady," she says. "I know how to fry up some chicken."

"Mmhm."

"I suppose you're an expert, then."

"Well, sure," Kevin says, moving into the room. "I am a Southern Gentleman. You just put the oil, um." He picks the fryer up, rotating it. "Here?" he says.

Britney cocks her head. "Yeah," she says after a minute. "That looks right."

See, I sort of see this whole Perfect Southerner thing as an on-going debate/in-joke they have. and sometimes it means extending each other grossly exaggerated extra courtesies, and sometimes it's boasting about skills or whatever, but secretly they both kind of like it, that Kevin holds doors for Britney, and stuff. You know, the chivalry, and romance and stuff.

"Where's the oil?"

"Where's it always been?" She pulls open a cupboard, then closes it and opens another one. "Vegetable, olive, or Crisco?"

"Crisco, of course."

"Well, pardon me." She tosses him the bottle.

"Always," Kevin says, and Britney smiles as she opens the fridge.

Flirting! Cute!happy!flirting! *waves arms* You *will* fall in love...

"We need to make breading. Do we have--ah, there."

"Is the chicken cut?"

"No, would you?"

They putter around each other, the next few minutes, a dance they learned over the past 6 months, ever since she moved in with him. It's not as graceful as their rhumba, but homier, and they slide through the steps with the same practiced ease. He's handing her the pepper when the spluttering starts.

Ah, the first dance reference. They get together over dancing, as will be seen later, and it sort of becomes a theme. In real life, of course, Kevin was a registered ballroom dance instructor. Britney did gymnastics and ballet and stuff as a little girl (actually, she could have gone to the Olympics or something, but found gymnastics too much work/too unfun) and picked up some dancing along with the singing when she switched. I've always sort of thought (as do many people) that Brit is a dancer who sings, but what I mean by it is not that she's a crappy singer, but that she's such a good dancer, it's so part of her, that the singing is really secondary. I mean, part of the reason she lip synchs is that she does moves that would be impossible if she had to keep lung support going and stuff. So anyway, dancing is so *basic*, and so a part of them, that I see it as the initial connection, and something that runs through their lives. You know, I never wrote it, but I see them at 75 and 65, waltzing together in their big house at Christmas, when they think that no one is watching.

"What is--" Britney hardly has time to speak before there's a loud bang, the fryer jumps six inches in the air, and oil shoots all over the kitchen. They're lucky it's not hot enough to burn, because within seconds both of them are drenched. "How much oil did you *use*?"

"Half the bottle."

"Half the *bottle*?"

This is total bullshit. I have no idea how to use a deep fryer, or how much oil, or what sort (though I do suspect olive oil would be wrong...)

"Well, there wasn't a way to measure, and it all went in. Besides," Kevin says, his eyes raking over her oil-soaked clothes, "you didn't know how to use it either."

Ah, that first hint of lust.

"I did too!"

"Britney."

"Fine, but still. Look at me," she says, and Kevin does. Her skin is glistening, even in the artificial lights, and where her skin is covered, wet clothes cling to her form. Kevin licks his lips, and brushes a tendril of grease-dampened hair off her forehead.

"Beautiful," he says.

*waves arms* You *will*...

Britney tosses a handful of breading at him. "You," she says, "are good enough to eat."

See, because even though what he said was really sweet, and true (and driven by increasing lust...) it was also corny, and Brit knows it and Kevin knows it and Brit knows Kevin knows it and. yeah.

Kevin looks down at his chest, where the oil glues crumbs to his t-shirt, and arches an eyebrow at his bride. "Was that necessary?" he asks.

"No," she says, barely containing her giggles. "This, on the other hand..."

He shoots an arm up automatically, but bits of breading still pepper his hair. Before Britney can continue, he upends the bowl on her head, sending flour and breadcrumbs all over her. She wipes at her face, blinking, and laughs all the harder.

See, okay, it starts with him being all adult and stuff (he *is* 10 years older) but Brit brings out the silly in him! And yet, as you are about to see, She can be covered in flour and breadcrumbs and oil and laughing that hysterical sort of braying laugh she has when she finds something really funny, and it's *still* the most gorgeous thing in the world to him. Because he loves her. *waves arms*

Kevin cups her cheek, brushing away crumbs with his finger. She looks up at him, eyes darkening.

"Beautiful," he says again, and ducks his head, pressing their lips together. Her mouth falls open, warm and soft and welcoming, and when she mewls in the back of her throat the vibrations tickle his tongue.

Britney rubs her thumb across his waist, under his shirt. "Kevin," she murmurs into the kiss, and he breaks away to pull the t-shirt off. Hands rake through buttons, fumble with belts, and they press against each other, hungry. He throws an arm around her waist to keep her from slipping, the oily floor making both of them unsteady -- unsteadier. Growling with frustration, he slides across the floor to a chair, pulling her onto his lap, and still she kisses him, eyes closed, pouring heat into his body from hers.

They sink to the floor, together, and dinner is forgotten.

Ah, lust. And sweetness! *waves arms* And lust. And onto the next vignette...

Story the second: Nary a Drop to Drink.

Okay so the title is an allusion to the quotation "Water, water everywhere / and nary a drop to drink". I wanted to show that they do have sadness in their lives, but they are stronger for having each other. (And for getting Brit's mom the hell away from them, but that's neither here no there...)

Her mother doesn't like him.

10 months married now, nearly a year, and he's family, so they rub along, but Lynne still thinks that he's too old.

See, I know a lot of people who object to this pairing on those grounds, to which I say: Fuck off. My dad is 10 years older than my mom, and they've been married nearly 30 years, and as long as you click together and are in the same place in your lives, 10 years isn't that much. So, see, when Kevin and Brit get together, she's an adult, he's an adult, and they just. Fit.

Since the day he joined Backstreet, people have been saying that, and Kevin could give a shit, especially now. Now, when Britney's in pain and there's not a damned thing he can do about it.

Jamie, at least, waits outside, and Anne, to give them space. Not Lynne Spears, though. Her baby's hurt, and that's enough for her, and Kevin seethes in silence.

"First trimester miscarriages are very common," the doctor says. "Often, women don't even know they're pregnant. If she weren't so in tune with her body, she probably wouldn't have felt it at all."

It's all very well and good, but she *is* in tune, is a dancer, and now she's lying in a hospital bed, telling him she's fine so he'll stop looking at her like she's broken, and Lynne is shooting him arrows with her eyes.

He wants to throttle her.

Instead, he sits on the edge of the bed and traces idle patterns in the palm of Britney's hand.

I wanted to get across a couple of things here: First of all, Kevin and Britney and the good kind of co-dependence, where they're each trying to be whole for the other person and they both know they other person's faking so they won't let each other get away with it and end up having to heal together. Second of all, that Brit's family is now primarily Kevin, not her mom or dad, and the same with Kevin for Brit. Third of all, Even knowing that, and being in the kind of pain he's in Kevin still won't make things worse for Britney by sniping at her mother. Instead, he'll figure out a way to edge Lynne out without causing a scene. Because he loves Brit enough to live with her mom.

"They said you could go home tomorrow."

The words sound pathetic in his ears, and he winces. When Nick was frightened, or AJ hurt, when Brian was sick and Howie grieving, he said so much. Comfort poured from his mouth like water, and now. Now, when he needs it the most, his mouth is dry, empty. Barren. He squeezes her hand, and longs to hold her.

See, this is a tragedy even beyond AJ's alcoholism and depression. This is something he doesn't know how to articulate, or how to fix, except by holding Britney close. Also, the bit about his mouth being dry, that refers back to the title.

"See, darling?" Lynne smiles brightly. "We'll have you back on your feet in no time, Kevin and I."

"Actually, Mama," she says. "I think. I. We should."

This, Kevin can help with, and he turns on his charm. "Britney isn't really up to visitors," he says, "and Dr. Paxton said the first few days are a good time for a couple to grieve alone. It's easier to heal that way."

"If you think so, Britney." Lynne frowns at him."

Even with this, this pain, Britney is nobody's fool. "If the doctor said that it's important... and I am tired, Mama."

"I'll let you rest then." Lynne kisses her forehead. "They'll be other children, baby, don't you worry."

"Yes Mama," Britney says, "but not this one, never again."

Lynne means well, of course, but she doesn't understand. But that's okay, 'cause Brit has Kevin. We love Kevin, yes we do. *waves arms*

As soon as Lynne is gone, he crawls up the bed, pulling her flush against his chest. She tucks her head under his chin, sighing, and she sounds so much older than 25.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into her hair.

"Me too," Britney says, and Kevin holds her close. When the nurses wake her up for dinner, he's still there, arms around her stomach, snoring gently.

Britney lets him sleep.

See, they both know there's no way to make this better except to live through it together. And they don't waste timing saying things like it's not your fault, or anything, they just cling to each other, and grow stronger in their togetherness.

Story the third: Breakfast.

Okay, so here I wanted to show them actually having the life they were striving for in Chicken. And they love it, obviously, but I also wanted them to carve out some time for the two of them, because it must be hard in any marriage to be there totally for the children and yet still be a husband/wife, and for two working parents who have albums and Broadway stints and tours abroad and stuff, it must be a nightmare. But they love each other, so they do it.

She likes making him breakfast best.

Lunches are usually out, business meetings for one or the other of them, and dinners are raucous affairs with children and laughter and something spilling everywhere, but weekend breakfasts, when the kids have been up for ages, high on sugary cereal, and poured into the backyard to play at Robin Hood, breakfasts then are just the two of them. Like it used to be, before the children, and Lord knows she doesn't begrudge the children anything, but it's nice, having that quiet time.

What I just said above.

When she's up first (they alternate), after she's washed the table from the mess the children leave, she sets the griddle going, and cooks the way her grandma taught her. Saturday breakfasts are hearty meals, filled with eggs and sausages and bacon, and homemade grits.

Here's that True Southerner coming out again. Though, you know, if I had the energy I'd make eggs and grits too...

She turns the pot on, and every weekend, without fail, when the scent of coffee drifts through the house, Kevin pads downstairs in boxers, and wraps his arms around her waist.

*waves arms*

"You don't have to cook for me, you know," he murmurs, nuzzling her collarbone, and Britney tells him what she always says, every weekend she's cooked since before they even married.

"If a woman can't cook grits for her man, she ain't hardly worth keeping," she says, pouring his coffee, and every weekend, Kevin kisses the back of her ear, and says he'd keep her anyway. "Well," she says haughtily, a brilliant grin belying the tone of her voice, "you're just lucky we don't have to test that, Mister Richardson."

She adds a teaspoon of sugar and some milk, not enough to dull the flavor, just to turn it brown, but he always stirs it himself. It's the least he can do, he tells her, when she's already gone to such effort.

*waves arms harder*

When it's Kevin's turn, he does the same, and Britney in boxers and one of his button-downs kisses his shoulder blade, and he makes her coffee sweeter, and doesn't let her stir.

*arms fall off* because, see, he cooks for her too! they have equality! and sweetness! and love! and and and *waves one leg* You *will* fall in love...

Story the fourth: Saint Vitus.

Vitus is the Patron Saint of Dancing, which is of course a theme running through the universe and the cause of the connection between Brit & Kevin.

Nick invites her to AJ's wedding, as his date. After Justin, they became friends, mostly because Nick said on air that he didn't want Justin's left-overs, and Brit got outraged and yelled at him, and then Nick felt bad. Nick's funny that way.

I wanted to show that it's not just this random meeting of Britney and Kevin; she's already getting enmeshed in his world. After all, any friend of his brothers', and all that.

Kevin's there alone, just two more weeks until his divorce is finalized, and he's mostly fine except that somehow, some kind soul, the patron saint of poor wedding guests everywhere, someone convinced AJ and Sarah to get a string quartet instead of a DJ, and now Kevin's aching to dance.

Nick, of course, hates ballroom.

Also, he and Howie and Brian have been exchanging looks all evening, and when AJ isn't gazing at Sarah with adoration (how quickly he changed from the abject terror pre-wedding, and how grateful Kevin is that he did) he's been shooting them glares, and pointing with his chin at Britney.

Kevin may be old, but he isn't blind. He also isn't stupid -- he waits, lounging against a wall, arms crossed, and lets Nick make an ass of himself first. No point in wasting good ammo.

See, at this point she's nowhere near as important as the other Boys. I mean, she's beautiful, and he's attracted to her, but first he wants to get Nick, you know? No, not in *that* way. This *is* a hetfic, Howie/Nick aside. 8-P

"I don't really dance," Nick says, then blushes. "I mean, you know. Slow dancing. And I know Britney was really, I mean, you can see, she's, like, you know, tapping her toes? And stuff? And, you know, you, you slow dance really well, you know? So I was thinking--"

Kevin cuts him off by shoving away from the wall and walking over to Britney's chair. He holds out a hand and asks, "May I have this dance?" and even though it's a cheesy line, she smiles, takes his hand, and rises.

"I'd be honored," she says, and Kevin smiles back.

As early in their relationship as this, there's still the Southern stuff. Chivalry, and dancing. *sighs happily*

The band starts on a waltz, not a tune that Kevin's familiar with, but with the recognizable rhythm. Britney is smaller than she looks, even in heels, the top of her head reaching maybe to his mouth. The dress clings everywhere on top, and flounces on the bottom, brushing his legs as they dance. She watches him, silent, twirling in his arms, and he thinks maybe the music fills her like it does him, pouring in and around and through, until it's part of him. She's not the greatest singer that he knows, although at least she isn't flat, but when she dances. The music makes her sparkle.

Two weeks, and he's divorced, he thinks, and shifts a little closer.

Britney shines in his arms.

Oh Kevin, you ladies man you. And, see, Britney comes to life when she's dancing in his arms. Because Kevin, like Fred, is the type of man who lives for dancing cheek-to-cheek. Oh, God, and now I'm picturing Kevin and Brit doing that number, and mmm... okay. back. really.

Story the fifth: Sacrifice.

Okay, so you have a story about them as a family, there has to be kiddie cuteness, right? Right. Plus, you know, after Nary I really wanted a happy hospital scene. To balance out the little bit of sadness I let into my happy!universe.

"Anna Banana," Kevin says, gently taking his daughter from his mother's arms, "hey there, baby girl."

"Daddy?" Anne rubs at her eyes with chubby little fists, yawning. "Did we have the baby yet?"

baby cuteness! Kevin holding baby, cute baby, Kevin baby cuteness! ahem. No, I am capable of actualy serious commentary. Really.

"Yes, sweetheart." Kevin smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We had the baby. Do you want to see?"

"Can I?"

In response, he takes her back to Britney's room.

"Hi Mama. Is that my sister? Can I hold her?" Anne leans over the bed, and Kevin has to readjust his arms quickly to keep her from falling. Finally, he sits her down next to Britney, and she snuggles up, one hand reaching for the baby's face.

"Careful, sweetie. You don't want to scare him."

And the other shoe...

"Him?" Anne wrinkles her nose, and looks anxiously up at Kevin. "Where's my sister?"

"Well, Annie, you see." Kevin sits at the foot of the bed and takes her hands. Britney grins at him over Anne's head, and mouths "all you." Kevin shoots her a look, then smiles down at his daughter. "You see," he says, "we didn't have a girl."

"I want a sister," Anne says.

"I know. But a baby brother's pretty good too, huh? David, that's his name."

"He's a *boy*," Anne says.

"Why don't you try holding him?" Britney asks.

Anne glares at her, green eyes flashing just like Kevin's, and a pout that could rival her Uncle Nick's appears. "Put him back," she says.

"What?"

"Put him back. I want a sister."

So, to be honest, this is actually directly from my own past. When my baby brother was born, apparently I told my mother to put him back and bring me out a girl. Of course, I have as an excuse the fact that I already had an *older* brother, who beat me up all the time and stuff, so why would I want a second one around? But anyway, Anne's disappoint stems from my own, and like me, she will have to put it away and grow to love her brother(s) despite their obvious handicap of a y-chromosome. Such is life. Also? It's kind of funny. When, you know, you don't identify with Anne.

"Anne," Kevin says.

"I want a *girl*. Boys are *stupid*."

"I'm a boy, you know."

"No you're not," Anne says stubbornly. "You're a *daddy*."

The impeccable logic of a three-year-old...

"Baylee's a boy," Britney says.

Anne's eyes light up. "Oh!" she says, "Oh, Daddy. Give *him* the boy, and we can take Susan."

"I don't think Uncle Brian and Aunt Leighanne would trade with us," Kevin says.

"Course not. Who would want to trade for a *boy*?" Anne pouts, and slides off the bed. "Can we go home now?"

"You don't want to hold David?" Kevin brushes Anne's cheek. "It's not his fault he's a boy, you know."

Anne screws her face up, thinking it over. Finally she sighs loudly, clearly feeling put upon. "I *guess* not," she says. She raises her arms, and Kevin picks her up, cuddling her close. Britney carefully places David in her arms. He stares up at Anne and gurgles, waving one hand in the air.

"He's awful red," she says, but she keeps staring down at him, and Kevin kisses the top of her head.

"It'll go away in a week or two," he says.

"Good. If he's stuck being a boy, he can at least look pretty."

"So we can keep him, then?" Britney says.

See here they are being parents, trying to make Anne feel included, so she doesn't feel like she's lost her place in the family. Of course, I don't know what they'd have done if she said no, but fortunately, I was writing the story so that didn't happen. =)

"You're sure we can't have a girl?"

"Maybe next time," Kevin says. "In a couple of years."

"O-kay," Anne says, "I guess he can stay." One of David's fists whaps lightly against her cheek and she looks at him sternly. "Wait till I get my sister," she says. "We won't need you at *all* then, no matter how pretty you are."

Kevin hands the baby back to Britney with a kiss, and takes their daughter home.

*waves leg*

Story the sixth: Juice and Cookies

Here we see the whole integrated family, all the Boys and Wives and Children. Well, of course, there may be more children coming, but I wanted to show that they are all family, not just Kevin with the Boys and then Kevin with Brit et familia, but everyone. And also, I wanted to show that not only are the Boys still family, but they're still a group. They have their (occasionally really long) breaks, but they always end up back in the studio. Because they'll all meet up again at a birthday party or Christmas or something, and they *missed* each other, and they have to get back together 'cause of *Oprah*, and... um. Sorry about that. Anyway, one huge working family.

"Nannanan," Jeremy says, tugging on Anne's sleeve. "Juice?"

"Daddy?"

"Sure," Kevin says, glancing at his watch. "Your mama baked some cookies this morning, too, if you want some."

Anne picks her baby brother up and starts towards the kitchen. "Anyone else want a snack?" David and Adam immediately abandon the sandbox. Janie tugs on AJ's hand and he kisses the top of her head.

"Go on."

Baylee and Susan don't even wait to ask, hustling the stragglers inside. As they slide the door shut, the grown-ups can hear Anne faintly, "Hup, two, three, four" marching them all to the kitchen.

Mini-Kevin! but all cute and little-girly.

"She's good with them," Howie says.

"You should see her when it's bedtime," Kevin says. "Bossy little thing."

Nick grins. "Like some people I won't mention."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

And here's the Boy bantering. *sigh* I <3 Boy bantering.

"Of course not." AJ smirks. "The fact that we've all congregated in Kentucky to record means nothing."

"If you bothered to put a studio on your property, we'd go to LA," Kevin says. Brian, Howie, AJ and Nick all start laughing, and he shoots them a glare. "I'm not gonna leave Britney alone with four kids while she's pregnant."

"No," Britney says, coming into the yard with Sarah and Leighanne. She presses a kiss to Kevin's cheek, and lets him tug her into his lap. 47, and his legs protest a little at the extra weight, but he pulls her closer. "Of course not," she says "Having been pregnant so many time already, there's no way I could *possibly* handle it alone."

"You don't want me around anymore?"

"Oh, sweetie," Britney says.

Still romantic after all these years. They're a couple of teenagers, really. *waves leg*

AJ coughs. "I think," he says, "I might want some juice and cookies too."

"Yes," Brian says. "Juice and cookies sound good. For all of us."

"I'm not hungry," Nick says, but Howie pulls his arm anyway.

"Nicky," he says, "you're always hungry."

"Well, yeah," Nick says, "for *you*... oh..."

"He's nearly forty," Britney comments. "Is he ever going to grow up?"

"I hope not." Kevin wraps an arm around her waist, and the baby kicks his hand. "But either way, I have other things to worry about right now."

"Yeah?" she says, and he can her the smile in her voice.

"Well, for starters, Annie told me in no uncertain terms that if this one is a boy, she's disowning us."

"Even," Britney says, "if we promise faithfully to keep on trying?"

Kevin nuzzles her neck. "I'll have to ask," he says.

Just so you know, it is a girl. But mostly I love that they love each other, and that they have this huge family and love everyone, are still so sweet and loving together and and *leg falls off* shoot.

Story the seventh: Emmies.

Anne and David sit on the bed, watching Britney apply make-up.

"Well?" she says finally, turning around, and they gasp appropriately.

Her dress is long and white and flowy, her cheeks are creamy and rosy and her eyes shine and she's their mama and "You're *beautiful*," Anne says. Britney smiles, and David is still young enough that that's enough right there to make him laugh happily.

There's nothing like being a little kid and watching your mother transform herself (not that your mother isn't perfect to begin with, seeing as she's *your* *mother*, but still. And I wanted to show that their happiness makes her happy which makes them happy. Happy!universe!

"Now, I told Grandma Lynne you can stay up for the show, Annaberry, but if you get tired y'all just go ahead and sleep; Daddy's set the vcr."

"You'll wave to me when you win, right?"

"If I win," Britney says, "I promise I'll wave."

"Me too," Kevin says, coming in from the bathroom. He presses a quick kiss to Britney's cheek, murmuring "beautiful" under his breath, then puts David up on his shoulders and gallops downstairs to see if the limo's arrived.

Even amidst the kids and the madness of preparing for the Grammies and everything, still that soft "beautiful" to let her know he knows she's gorgeous. Because they love and adore each other. *sits down and waves remaining foot in the air*

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Why is Daddy wearing girl clothes?"

Okay, so mostly I just had to bring back ye old manskirt, because Kevin can always do with being ribbed about it. Not that he didn't manage to look sexy anyway, but still. A manskirt!

"A skirt has every right to be as gender neutral as pants do," Britney recites. When Anne wrinkles her nose, she can't help but giggle and say, "he's wearing them because in 20 years he has yet to learn that he shouldn't bet with Uncle Nick."

"Britney!" Kevin calls from downstairs, and she bends over to hug Anne tightly and give her a kiss.

"Night, Mama. Bring home lotsa Emmies."

"Grammies, sweetie." Britney smiles. "I'll try," she says, and "Good night," and then they're out the door.

As the limo pulls away, Anne runs to the front door and shouts after them, "Daddy! Tell Uncle Nick he's stupid!"

"I *like* the skirt," Kevin huffs, and Britney laughs.

And there you have it: just a sweet little vignette. And like I said before, it stops at the end of the family stuff. Because it's not about the limelight and the performance and stuff, it's about everything *but* that life.

In the next vignette, I actually do bring them into the public for a bit, but I try to make it seem bizarre, louder and sort of something they're not used to. Which, of course, they would be, since they both keep performing, but I like to think of them as having cut back on things like TRL, just doing the late night and The View type thing, having an older audience and stuff, and really not doing as many interviews at all, in favor of being a family. And the only reason I brought the career stuff in at all is to show that ultimately the family is everything, because the sole reason they're on this show is that they love each other.

Story the eighth: Yes.

"Okay," Carson smiles at the tv audience. "Today on Inside MTV, we're interviewing some of the industry's longer-lasting couples, and some of their most spectacular break-ups, in a special romance edition. To start, we have a successful supercouple, Britney Richardson, whom many of you probably remember wearing short skirts and spelling her last name S-P-E-A-R-S, and of course, her husband, Backstreet's senior statesman and Broadway perennial, Kevin Richardson. Britney, Kevin, welcome."

"Hi," Brit says, waving, and the audience screams. She leans back a little -- it's been a long time since teen-agers have emitted quite that high-pitched a note at seeing her -- and Kevin rests a hand on the back of her neck.

See, because really, Brit's audience is older now, as is Kevin's. Not that teenagers don't listen to her, but her core audience is not so much with the squealing. She's a family woman now. And when they do off-set her, there's Kevin, and everything spins back into place.

"Hi," Kevin says when it's quieted down. The baby kicks, and without thinking about it Brit moves one of Kevin's hands to her swollen abdomen. The audience lets out an "awww," and they both of them laugh.

The baby in question is Jeremy, the one who wanted Anne to get him juice in Juice and Cookies. So far, we've seen David's birth (with Anne there), the pregnancy with... um...Maggie?..., whom we never actually see born or hear referred to by name, Jeremy, and a brief mention of Adam in Juice and Cookies. Adam falls between David and Jeremy in age.

"Right," Carson says. "I've got a bunch of questions here, if you don't mind getting straight to the thick of things. Now, you two have been married for ten years, is that right?"

"As of 6 weeks ago, yes," Britney says. Kevin presses a kiss to her temple.

Carson leans forward. "You met -- well, met isn't the right word, I suppose. You met in a romantic context? You got it on at AJ's wedding." He turns to the camera. "In case any of you are deaf, dumb and blind, AJ is a fellow Backstreet Boy."

"I wouldn't say we 'got it on'." Kevin shifts in his seat. "I asked her to dance."

The dancing again. Also, a distaste for the vulgarity of Carson.

Brit turns to him, grinning. "Nick made you."

"Nick did not *make* me. Nick hemmed and hawed and turned red and stuttered. And then, utterly of my own volition, I chose to request your hand for the next song."

"We waltzed."

He grins back at her. "And then we rhumbaed."

"Cha-chaed."

"Mamboed."

"Tangoed."

"Fox-trotted."

Brit turns to the camera. "And a week later, we were dating."

I wanted them to have that list memorized, that it stuck that much in their minds, even back then when they had no idea they'd last 10 days, let alone 10 years.

"How did he pop the question?"

"Oh," Brit says. "It was terribly romantic."

Kevin makes a face. "In the terribly sense."

I've found from listening to my friends and family that pretty much any proposal will end up being romantic just by virtue of it being a proposal...

Brit pokes him. "It was."

"If you ignore the fact that our bodyguards were standing ten feet away and it started raining before I could start talking."

"You went down on one knee."

"You pointed out there was broken glass on the rock, and asked if I was *trying* to get myself injured. And if I recall correctly, you complained on the entire walk to the park that it was dangerous being so public when the schools were just out for Christmas."

I wanted to show here that they were striving even at the beginning to carve out a niche for themselves, away from the prying eyes of the world, and that it worked, because here they are and no one knows how Kevin proposed in public to the love of his life.

"Hush," Brit says, "and let me tell the story."

Kevin laughs, and kisses her hand. "Yes ma'am."

And there's the Southerner thread again, the chivalry and old jokes and knowledge of how they live best together. The love that they worked at so that they know when to speak, when to give in, when to get away from each other and be alone for a bit. It's not just the infatuation of the dance, or the lust, it's a relationship.

"He took me to the park, to where we'd had our first date, a picnic. It was December, and people had been drinking there or something earlier, because there were a couple of broken beer bottles around, and I was really nervous. And when he got down on one knee, like in the movies, I asked what on earth he was doing, and he was fumbling to get the ring out of his pocket and said, 'I'm asking you to marry me, so please stop complaining for a minute and let me *talk*,' and I said 'Yes,' and he said, 'What?' and I said, 'Yes, I'll marry you.' He said, 'I haven't even *asked* you yet, just a *second*,' and pulled out the little box, and took a deep breath and said," Brit pauses, her eyes growing misty, and she and Kevin share a smile.

This next bit is my way of having the proposal without going back and writing a before-they-were-a-family story.

"I said, 'Since the first time I held you in my arms, my life has been filled with music and laughter and a joy that I never thought possible. You brought me that. You brought me happiness that I thought was gone. You gave me everything worthwhile in my life today, and so I'm asking you to share it -- to share yourself -- with me forever. Britney Jean Spears, will you please, please be my wife?"

"And I said, 'Yes.'"

And there you have it. The sweetness, the romance, the silliness, the normal family life away from show biz. "And if [they] ever leave a legacy, it's that [they] loved each other well" (Indigo Girls, Power of Two)