Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
steelartisan) wrote2010-08-31 10:10 pm
steelartisan) wrote2010-08-31 10:10 pm
Three months later
There are murmurs in the air: San Francisco, publicly declared haven to mutants. The possibility of moving; the fact that Xavier's school is neither precisely a haven nor precisely Xavier's any more.
The gossip mill has always been a thriving entity at the Mansion. Telepaths only help this along. So far, it's only an idea being tossed noncommittally back and forth, and only one item of many in the grapevine. (Others include the federal government's inconsistent and uneasy stance on mutants, who's dating whom, and, for the brave or foolhardy, the question of how exactly Emma keeps her costume from falling off.)
Right now, though, Piotr is not listening to anybody gossiping about anything.
He's settled, instead, under a tree in one of the further corners of the Mansion's grounds. Kate's head is resting in his lap, and one of her hands loosely twined with his.
She's finally gotten clearance from Hank to take off the Genoshan collar. It was really about time.
The gossip mill has always been a thriving entity at the Mansion. Telepaths only help this along. So far, it's only an idea being tossed noncommittally back and forth, and only one item of many in the grapevine. (Others include the federal government's inconsistent and uneasy stance on mutants, who's dating whom, and, for the brave or foolhardy, the question of how exactly Emma keeps her costume from falling off.)
Right now, though, Piotr is not listening to anybody gossiping about anything.
He's settled, instead, under a tree in one of the further corners of the Mansion's grounds. Kate's head is resting in his lap, and one of her hands loosely twined with his.
She's finally gotten clearance from Hank to take off the Genoshan collar. It was really about time.
no subject
Never mind. Kate usually delights in showing him pop culture that makes no sense. If she says he doesn't want to see it, she's probably right.
(Especially if it involves Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, whose mother was enthralled by Rasputin.)
"The lists are always so long." This is in Russian, and mournful in the way that isn't really. "But yes. We can read them." He spreads his hand against her stomach, just a little.
More seriously, "What are you thinking of?"
no subject
Okay, not thinking about that. Really not. Seriously not.
Okay. Now not. Baby first. Dealing with marriage issues second. Probably--um, maybe--actual marriage third. Then panic about the fact that there is no one you have a fucking clue about asking tips from in your own world when it comes to parenting.
Minor detail, totally can wait.
She shrugs a little and tells him, "Simone," chewing her lip thoughtfully as she then lists her reasons. She yawns a little and rests her eyes--just rests them, thank you--for a moment, letting them drift shut as she kisses Piotr's shoulder.
"...It's just an idea. But I like it, and it felt kinda fitting. If," and it's a bit dry, "we ever figure out a first name that sounds good with it. If we can find a first name we both agree on, I'll happily shove any middle name that sounds weird off the island. And then we can name her after, I dunno. A random object. Isn't that what everyone does anyway these days in the magazines? Look at a fruit basket, pick out the one you like best, you have your kid's name? We could name her after coffee, for a middle name. ...Actually, there are worse names I've heard."
She considers, then makes a face, one eye opening to scowl more effectively. "Hank lies about these drinks being as effective as caffeine. I notice my rambling with this at the time. ...I'm not sure if that means they're more effective than caffeine or less, but either way. Liar. This kid better never doubt she was wanted," Kate finishes in a grumble.
But her hand's next to his, two fingers hooked around one of his as her thumb brushes his palm.
She does not think their daughter is really going to have to worry about that one, somehow.
no subject
When you've known somebody for this many years -- and, let's be honest, loved them for this many -- you get pretty good at letting rambling slide right past and picking out the important bits. (Like the bits that do not involve naming their daughter Coffee.)
"I like it, I think," he adds, and spreads his hand slightly against hers. And against her stomach, with their baby girl inside. "Is a good name."
And not such a weighty legacy as the first names they decided against.
no subject
"It is," she agrees, and can't make the smile that grew at his first words go away.
"Maybe I won't screw this up too badly after all." She hasn't brought up again her fears about that, but it doesn't mean they've disappeared.
But they're...well.
Logan doesn't coddle.
That helped, some--but for no logical reason, especially as Piotr is biased and she knows it--his hand with hers still helps the most.
"So just a first name," she breathes. "Not hard at all. Right." Beat. "...How many months do we have left, again?"
He laughs against her hair, and Kate pokes him gently, before noticing that he's been shifting them back on the bed slightly.
"--I am not, for the record, in need of a nap," she says, after a moment's consideration. "But given that the bed is here, and all..."
She pokes Piotr harder when his laughter grows at that, but she's grinning when he gently sets her down, curling his large frame about her--and sometimes, she truly thinks he could wrap his entire body around her if he chose to, and sometimes it's not a horrible thought to let herself consider--and pulling the thin blanket over them both.
"Of course you don't, Katya," he says reasonably. "But I am very tired."
"You are a horrible liar, that's what you are," she grumbles, but her breathing is already evening out somewhat.
For someone who is very tired, he is up quite a bit of time after she drops off, fingers tracing gently over her hair and stomach first, before eventually he reaches for a sketch book.
One of his hands, though, remains on her even then.
Even in her sleep, her own hand stays over his.