steelartisan | (no subject)

(no subject)

Katya is in the laboratory she's claimed as her own. Utopia has a lot of laboratories; this means that anyone who wants to stake a claim can do it with a little determination.

Granted, Kate's willingness to throw wrenches at people who disturb her doesn't hurt. Likewise the gleam in her eye when she reminds people of just how many months she's been without caffeine.

Piotr's not sure what she's doing in there so often, but he figures he'll find out eventually. He's not bothered. He's seen it a couple of times, anyway, but he's not the mechanical genius; what he sees is a lot of complex bits of machinery in no working order, and his girlfriend scowling at them and muttering under her breath. It's probably not all that different from what she sees when he's figuring out a new painting, to be honest.

But she's been down there for several hours today, and he's not totally sure she emerged for any kind of lunch. Which is why he's making his way there now. (With a sandwich.)

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Fondly, "Once or twice."

It's stuck around pretty well for him, too.

He's okay with waking up in the middle of the night, though. Not looking forward to that part, but more than okay with it. (Talk to him in a few sleep-deprived months, though.)

He kisses her lightly. "You will be a wonderful mother."

She shakes her head a little, but it's with a smile, and mostly because she knows he's incredibly biased.

"Maybe, Petey Pureheart, but you--you're going to be the best daddy this little girl could hope for," she says firmly, as Kate places his hand on her stomach.

And, since they're avoided talking about it too much, both things, "And we'll keep her safe--and when I phase and come back, we'll go on a vacation. An actual family vacation type deal," she concludes, nuzzling his neck after a moment. "I have some ideas on the subject."

Piotr makes an inquiring noise.

About the vacation ideas. It's an idea he's going to contemplate with warm optimistic fondness for a minute, even if right on the heels of it comes the conviction that there is no way they're likely to manage an entire vacation without any emergencies, invasions, or supervillains.

(Piotr misses being able to be an optimist with all his heart, instead of only a little bit of it.)

But no matter what, they'll protect their little girl, and each other; cynical or not, he can be fiercely determined about that.

She just strokes his cheek for a moment before saying, lightly, as she shifts away from him and goes to take a bite of the sandwich he brought her.

"Call me cliche, but I've enough love for Japan that I'd like to see the cherry blossom festival when it comes. Besides, weddings during the festival bring good luck."

Kate makes a face.

"Did you put mayo on this?"

Later, she said when he asked her to marry him, and sometime, and he hasn't asked since. If they discuss it, it's obliquely, or carefully casual and carefully vague. She said she would tell him when she was ready.

And this isn't that, but -- it's a step, however deliberately light it might be, and even if she changed the subject right after, and Piotr can't stop his face from lighting up just a little after the first instant's surprise. (He never has had much of a poker face.)

"The cherry blossoms sound beautiful," is what he says, after another moment, and he means it for much more than the flowers. Much more.

And -- right, subject change, and question, and the look she's giving the sandwich. Uh. "Da?" Kate likes mayonnaise fine, and always has. "Should I not have?"

She likes mayonnaise fine, but Kate's food preferences have been switching around very rapidly these last few months.

"Sorry," she says mournfully around the mouthful, and then gives up and reaches for the napkin.

She can't bring herself to swallow it.

"--Okay, your daughter needs to settle on what she likes and not interfere with what I like," she says plaintitively, and sulks slightly, glaring at the sandwich as if it might be a secret Skrull.

"I am sure she is very sorry."

Lies. Giant, giant lies.

Even aside from the fact that she's a fetus and unlikely to care, she's also Kate's daughter, and Kate has always had a mischievous streak as wide as Piotr's arm.

"We could go up for another," he starts -- he'll eat this one; it's a perfectly good sandwich, and Piotr doesn't believe in wasting food -- and then pauses.

With half a smile, "Or you could get one from Bar."

She does make good sandwiches.

"God, why do we not play poker? I could so wipe you out," she says sadly.

And then grins.

"If you want. I mean, it's not like I'm going stir-crazy stuck here."

It had been suggested to her that another pregnant mutant might not be the best thing to be seen.

She hasn't been off Utopia since setting foot on Utopia, and she's ready to lose her mind. Maybe. A little.

Edited 2011-02-03 04:45 (UTC)

"That is why we do not play poker, my Katya."

Because, despite many years as an X-Man, Piotr retains a few shreds of self-preservation instinct.

He grins back, though. Mock-solemn: "She is a very good cook, I remember."

Better than anyone in Utopia! Although that's more of a compliment to Bar than an insult to everyone here; there are a few awful cooks around the place, but also some very good ones.

"You are cruel to me, Piotr Nikolaievitch," she says in Russian, unable to get rid of her grin.

"Da? Would you carry me across the threshold, then, oh love of my life?"

"I am," he answers in the same language, entirely amused. "It is tragic how cruel I am."

A slight rearrangement for ease of walking, and across the threshold they go!

Or across the transdimensional portal. Whatever.

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