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Vincent adjusted his tie, straightening it and feeling happy with his knot until he looked at the far too long end hanging out. He grumbled and worked the knot loose, to try again.

"Every single time."

Mary's hands went over his back and the bull jumped at the sudden touch. The otter stood about a foot shorter than him, but she'd never been intimidated by the bull's size in any argument they'd had. Not that they had many of them! Bickering, yes, terse comments, of course--But arguing? Never.

Vincent felt comfortable around her in the way that putting on a favorite sweater might be on a chilly, snowy morning. It felt comforting, familiar,

Safe.

The more the two of them talked about their lives together, the more Vincent was sure, he wanted to marry her. They'd discussed their plans to settle down together at length before, but Vincent also knew that her dad would be hurt if he wasn't asked permission as well. Maybe that was why his stomach felt like a lead weight at the thought of dinner with them tonight. Mary would say yes, that wasn't even a question. But what would her Dad say?

"You look so handsome," Mary said, arms stretched about his stomach, not quite able to meet in the middle.

"I dunno," Vincent said, turning around to face his girlfriend.

She wore a knee-length lavender dress that swayed whenever she moved. It was definitely his favorite. He cupped the otter's cheek in his hooved hands and smiled.

"I think I only look good with a beautiful woman like you beside me!"

The otter frowned at him.

"Vincent. We talked about this! Complimenting me by putting yourself down only makes me feel bad. Don't be so critical of yourself."

The bull heaved a sigh and his broad shoulders sagged. They had been talking about it since their third anniversary a few months ago. That was the biggest argument they'd had.

"I guess..." he mumbled.

"No guessing! Do you really not see it?"

"See what?" His cheeks were flushed at her tone.

"Go to the bathroom. Right now."

"Uh..."

"Face the mirror!" she said, stabbing at his chest with a webbed finger.

"Okay, okay!"

He made his way to the bathroom, flicking the switch as he walked past. He looked at his reflection. The bull saw muddy fur, saggy eyes, a dent in his horn. He saw a large chest that was from genetics more than any serious work he put in. And he saw... fat.

He saw a lot. Of fat.

He saw the results of his stressful job, the stress eating, the winter weight, and he saw the failure of every diet plan, every missed workout session, every time he used the elevator instead of the stairs. He saw torn pants, stretched shirts, and shopping for XXL's.

He saw... failure.

"Look at me," he muttered, more to himself than her. "I look pathetic."

"Nope! Tell me three nice things about yourself," Mary said.

"We're gonna be late, babe."

"My parents can wait."

He sighed at her. He felt stupid. He felt so stupid that she'd force him to do something so childish. But her paw squeezed his hand and that was enough.

"My eyes. I like my eyes."

"Go on."

"I like how they light up when I smile; when I really smile, when I really feel it. It's not just in my mouth, it's in my eyes and that's a nice look."

"I love that look too," Mary said. "When you're staring at me and not thinking you are."

Vincent blushed but continued. "I like... my arms. In certain lights, they look defined. And it's nice that I can pick you up and spin you around when you're back from a work trip. It's nice to feel strong for you."

She leaned into him more, nestling in and looking at him to keep him talking.

"And... this last thing, it's not about me, it's about you."

"Oh?" she looked up at him.

"When we're lying in bed together and you're snuggling into me. You put your head on my stomach and it's one of the best memories I can think of, seeing you drifting off to sleep on my stomach."

Mary's hands got to work, not even looking up at him. She worked his short open, and put her paws on his stomach.

"I love this," she said. "I love how rich and vibrant your fur is, it's got browns, reds, and blondes mixed in. And it's so soft! It's so nice and I like to rest on it and feel it under my paws."

Her hands went over his stomach. They moved, running through the fur and roaming over it until she seized some of his fat.

Vincent gasped, feeling his jaw shake.

"I love that you keep me warm in winter. I love your big belly laughs, and your... all of you! I can't help you see what I see but..."

She leaned over, placing soft kisses on his stomach. Her hands went over his fur, around the curve of his stomach. She grabbed his love handles and kept her gentle kisses moving over his stomach.

"Vincent, your body is part of you. And I love every last inch of you. I love when you take your shirt off and I see you with just your pants on. It's... well, it's hot! That view drives me wild and having so much to hold and touch and feel when we're having sex? When I can't even keep my eyes open, I just feel... you. All of you and it's such a wonderful feeling."

Tears filled Mary's eyes and the otter looked up at him.

"I guess I never realized that a part of you I love so much and makes me feel safe could cause you so much pain!"

The bull's hands brushed Mary's cheeks. He grabbed her hips and led her out of the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking into her eyes.

"I didn't want you to know how self-conscious I am. I guess I thought it was pathetic. Sometimes, I get the feeling I'm not good enough for you. That you deserve someone more confident."

Mary's hands went from his cheek to his chest and over his stomach. She grabbed his large hands and brought them to her breasts.

"I wear mostly push-up bras because I'm naturally flat-chested. I got teased at so much in school for looking like a boy. I can't wear a lot of dresses because fashion designers seem to forget that not everyone has a slim tail. My rudder never fits, and those dresses that do always hug my ass."

"Which is nice for me," Vincent said, a sheepish grin on his face that countered his tears.

"Easy boy," she giggled. "And I have flabby arms. I never wear anything sleeveless. My point is, babe, I'm self-conscious too. I feel inadequate and gross and undesirable. Even after three years with you, I worry you'll stop loving me, or that you won't think I'm sexy or beautiful.

"But when I look in your eyes, the cutest smile goes over your face and I just melt. I feel like, wow! There's a guy who sees me as I am, who knows how to make me smile, laugh and cooks for me, who gets along with my family and who my parents love. And... I just feel like I'm the luckiest. Because I get to wake up next to you every morning and feel home."

Vincent was full-on crying. Tears streamed down his face and he rested his forehead to Mary's. He held her close, rubbing her back and trying his best not to smudge her makeup.

"I love you..." he choked out between sobs.

"I love you too, dear. My big, handsome bull. Anxiety and fear is natural. But just because you only see the bad doesn't mean that's what I see in you."

"And," he managed. "I never realized you were insecure like that too. I feel so stupid for missing that!"

"Oh, baby! Vincent, no! Don't worry about that. Love is all about growing together and building each other up. We can talk more about this later, but know you can talk to me about this anytime you need."

Vincent nodded his head and grabbed her cheek. He pressed his lips to hers, tasting the salt of their tears and the peach of her lipstick. He held her there, and didn't let go until their tears had dried.

***

The drive from Iowa City up to her parent's place was quiet. They'd had an emotionally draining conversation, but ultimately, Vincent felt better for it. There was a solidarity to be found in their shared struggle towards self-love. And a renewed appreciation of each other.

Mary's paw rested in Vincent's and her fingers laced with his. The otter had some quiet guitar music playing and she sang along. Her lilting voice had a sense of melancholy that belied to the lyric's words.

Vincent squeezed her paw, looking over towards her.

"You alright?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, I just think... it's tough going home sometimes I mean, it's home, but it's not where I grew up. It's home because it's them but it's not home because my stuff is all gone. It's where they are, not where I am, but part of me is also there. And...

"It's tough seeing Mom and Dad getting older. It's home but it's not. Brother's in Toronto, Sister's in Eugene. It's hard not to feel like I'm weird, I guess. For still being so close to home when everyone else is farther away."

Vincent turned into the town he'd spent four years in school at. He drove down the road to campus, taking a right by the water tower to the old mid-century home her family had been fixing up since they moved in years before.

"It is weird," he said.

Mary looked at him, a brow raised.

"Families grow and change. I've got a hefty age gape between me and my nearest sibling. So I was an only child for a while when they were at college. When they came back, it was always weird not to be the only one around. But that's just it, I'm your family now too. We're gonna be an interlocked family together, with yours, with mine, just a bunch of Venn Diagrams. Or Chainmail."

That last one got a chuckle from the otter, who leaned over to hug her boyfriend.

"I love you, darlin'" Vincent said.

"I love you too."

Mary got out of the car and stretched out. She gave a slight sway of her rudder when Vincent came around and took her by the hips, guiding her up to her parent's house. Vincent rang the doorbell and gave Mary's hip a squeeze. She leaned into him and gave a tug the shiny blue tie so she could kiss him.

"I'd never want to be here with anyone else but you, Vincent."

A sheepish grin cross the bull's face but anything he could say was interrupted by the door swinging open. Inside was a familiar sight of a short otter with a pudgy belly wire frame glasses that hung by his nose. He grinned looking at his daughter and the bull, who had a good several inches on him.

"Vinnie, Mary! Great to see ya!" He opened the door and grabbed his daughter in a hug. Turning to Vincent, he wrapped his arms around him as well.

Before he met Mary's parents, Vincent never understood that some people were very much Huggers. It's not like he didn't hug his folks sometimes, but this was a staple of being part of the Ryerson household. Even when Mary's brother and sister met him, it was full of hugs and a warmth that Vincent never knew he wanted to be a part of. So he enjoyed that part of them, that closeness that was intimate without being sexual. It was just a sense of belonging and embracing him metaphorically as well as they did physically.

"Hey Pat, it's great to see you," Vincent said to the patriarchal otter.

"Yeah, c'mon in, let's get some food in you."

Vincent held the door open for Mary, following her into the house where he'd spent a lot of time in getting to know his future in-laws. He walked through the mudroom and saw a few familiar pictures hanging on a cork board, including one of Mary and him from graduation. He remembered what he told Mary the night before, he'd be back.

He had to leave Iowa for a few months. The plan was he'd try and find work and move back out when he could. After only 3 weeks, Vincent loaded up his car with his stuff and drove from Oregon all the way to Iowa. He'd have to figure out work when he got there, but Vincent was miserable with her so far away.

"Vincent!" Tammy squealed, coming around the corner from the kitchen. He must have been stuck there longer than he thought.

The older otter looked a lot like her daughter, mostly in the eyes. But Mary had Pat's smile. Vincent hugged her tight, getting flour on his nice shirt from her apron.

"Hey, Tammy," he grinned. She gave him a disapproving look.

"Getting flour all over that nice shirt, ooh, what are we going to do about you?"

"Fatten me up with your potato soup, I hope!"

"It's best for an overcast day like today, after all!" Tammy turned around and Vincent followed her in.

The kitchen had a large barn sink that seemed to be original to the house, but the cabinets were new. They were a muted gray that went with the white countertops and stainless appliances. The bull remembered the work he and Pat went through installing the new cabinets. It gave him a sense of pride in the space he didn't have with the apartment he shared with Mary. It was home, even if he'd never sleep a single night here.

So he fell into the routine, talking with him, getting drinks poured, helping set the table. He was hardly a guest anymore, finding his sense of family here with the Ryersons. It was like his own family but it also wasn't in a very real way. They were important to Mary and by transitive properties, they were important to him!

But there was also something that made him uncomfortable every time he came over to her parent's house. Their entire family was otters, with not a soul to marry outside of that before. Maybe that was why Vincent was so nervous. He got along with Pat, but seeing the family pictures of otters, the tiny babies with rudders, the difference in height obvious in any pictures that included him on the wall.

He felt singled out.

Vincent grew quiet during dinner. What started as jovial company turned to companionable silence from the bull, then just silence. The pit in his stomach growing with self-doubt and fear every time he thought about talking with Pat afterwards. A parent's expectations can be different if things start to get serious. He wasn't sure if the otter would give him the blessing. And Mary... he knew she'd run off with him anyway, if he asked. But he knew the pain that would happen if they went that route. Mary would be devastated and that was something Vincent didn't feel he could do to her. He felt trapped by the question and the possible outcomes.

It was Schrödinger's question, as it were.

"Oh, we're running low on wine, Pat, do you want to go down to the wine cooler and get some more?"

"Sure thing!" he grinned, standing up and going off to the basement.

After Pat had been gone for a moment, Vincent stood up too, "I'll go make sure he doesn't grab another bottle of that awful Cupcake stuff."

The stairs creaked under the bull's weight, and he came around the corner to the small lounge area built into the basement. The basement was a lounge devoted to Pat's team, the Calgary Flames. Vincent had gotten into long conversations with Pat as he started to get converted into the world of Hockey fandom. And it wasn't long before he was being given jerseys for birthdays and Christmas too. Putting it on, he was amazed at how well it fit. He beamed wearing it, even as they were crushed in game after game. Pat loved sharing the game with him.

"Hey, Pat, uh, had something I wanted to ask you about."

Pat was behind the bar, opening up the small wine cooler installed behind there, kneeling down to look at the bottles. The wall around the small bar nook had signed memorabilia, team photos, a hockey stick near the ceiling.

"Sure thing, what's up?"

"Well, I... I've been with Mary for a few years now, and, I don't think I ever really picked up on it until now, but I saw that your family has only ever had otters in it. I mean, I knew, but I guess I never ... I have to ask you here. And I need you to be honest with me. Are you okay with me dating her?"

Pat's ears perked up. He turned around slowly and stood up. The otter may have been a foot shorter than him, but the look in his eyes and the intensity of that gaze made it hard for the bull to swallow the lump in his throat.

"What the heck kind of question is that?"

"The pictures on the wall. I just started noticing them. And they're all otters and even your other kids are all with other otters. You've always been so great to me but I also know that you're her dad. You have expectations for her."

Pat sighed quietly, and set the bottle down on the bar. He walked around and grabbed Pat by the shoulder, leading him towards the small room that served as a library in the otter's house. Most of the books, Vincent knew, were photo albums. There were vinyl records, Tom Clancy novels, fantasy books, home improvement guides. And there were more pictures of the Ryerson family. The family of otters.

Towards the back of the room, was a small desk with a worn chair behind it. There were a few pieces of very old looking paper and a small black book on top of the desk. He felt even more out of place in this space he'd never had much reason to go into before. But Pat turned on a lamp and pointed it at the book.

"Let's take a look at this together, huh?"

Vincent had spoken with Pat for some time now about family histories, watching the otter gleefully find his genealogy and trace his family back. There was reportedly a book in his dad's possession that he wasn't able to find, but, judging by the small black leather book in front of him, he finally had. It looked older than the otter next to him, with the frayed edges and browned pages.

Inside, was a history of Pat's side of the family, going back to Calgary, to England, to Ireland, and snaking its way back with each turn of the page. Someone had collected the information before, but inside the last page, was a piece of paper. Pat nodded his approval, so Vincent carefully unfolded the paper, holding the softened page as carefully as he could.

On the top was a piece of paper dated 1872. The handwriting was a little hard to read at first, but slowly, Vincent was able to see what it appeared to say, which just made the pit in his stomach twist around more.

"You see," Pat said. "My great great great Uncle was apparently disowned from the family at the time for running off with a Bison from, as best I can find, the Blackfoot tribe. It's hard to tell for sure given how... off-putting the language that letter used is. So he disappeared with her, and my family never saw him again, and they tried to erase him. Only place his records still exist is journal pages like that.

"Vincent, I'm not my family. I'm not going to repeat those sins of the past. We've always been a family of otters, yes. But we were a family of Canadians for 200 years til I moved us down here. Times change and I know how much Mary loves you. And anyone with eyes can see that you're crazy for her."

Vincent nodded a little bit, still looking at the paper, he looked up at Pat, then back down to the paper, where such an ugly word was written by someone who didn't know any better.

"And what if I want to marry her? Will I need to do what your great great great uncle did?"

Pat shook his head sadly. "Vincent, the first day she brought you home, I knew I'd be walking her down the aisle to give her away to you. You mentioned expectations and, son, you've surprised every expectation I've ever had for a son-in-law. You make her happy and she's safe around you. That's really all I want.

"So, you want my blessing to marry her? I'm honored to give it to you, Vinnie. Because I couldn't ask for a better son-in-law than you. I've never once worried about the two of you."

Vincent stood there for a moment, tears filling his eyes before he wrapped arms around Pat's shoulders and squeezed him tight. Pat's small arms wrapped around him best he could, squeezing the crying bull close.

"Thank you," he whispered. He stood there, holding his father-in-law, and letting the doubting thoughts in his head slip away bit by bit.

***

Mary sat down next to Vincent in the living room of her parent's house. She was leaned into him. Her parents were finishing up with the dishes, giving them some time to enjoy the soft crackling of the fireplace. The otter's fingers ran over his stomach, feeling his body curve and shift underneath her touch. She smiled up at him, a sleepy look in her eyes. Vincent's hands went to her stomach, running up and gliding back down to her knees. He teased underneath her dress once just see the shocked look on her face, but quickly went right back over her clothes.

"Hey," he drawled, his voice cracking from the soft tone.

"Hey, you," she said, blinking a few times and shifting in her place with her head on his lap.

"I've been saying for years it for years, but what do you say about an October wedding?"

"October could be nice. Right around Thanksgiving."

"Your weirdo Thanksgiving," he grinned.

"Hush, you," she said, poking at his muzzle with a paw.

Vincent grabbed it and stared down into her eyes. He stared at her for a long moment before grabbing a small round box from his pocket and handing to her.

The ring was small, with a single, brilliant sapphire in the center and an engraving on the inside that read 'Marriages are built on Hope.'

Mary shook her head at him, a laugh growing from her stomach until she was snorting at him, quite loudly.

"That's not the line, you idiot," she grinned, grabbing his horn to pull him into a kiss. She held him close, arms around his shoulders until she let him go, pulling him back until he could see the ring on her finger.

"Mmm, I love you, baby," she said quietly.

"I love you too," he said, kissing her hand and holing the ring in his hands.

"Mmm, can't believe that's how you asked me to marry you!"

"I'd kneel down, but you're so short, I'd just come to eye level on you!" he grinned.

"You ass," she giggled, looking at the ring again. Her smile warming Vincent more than the fireplace did. "Want to go show my parents?"

Vincent shook his head, looking down at her. "Nah, let's just wait til they're done. I'm not going anywhere now. I'm right where I need to be."