theothermanofsteel | Three months later

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.

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Piotr opts to ignore the extraneous parts of that, as he ignored the Kate-does-arcane-things-with-computers part.

"She?"

They've been using both pronouns more or less at whim, while they didn't know.

But given that she was looking up the baby's file -- well.

"Da. She." Kate's still looking at the screen and reading more, but the smile's there now as she goes through information and processes much of it and makes a note to ask questions on the bits she needs to. "Very definitely she. Something Something Petrovna Pryde-Rasputina, it seems. ...She's gonna kill us when she has to learn to spell it."

By now, though, she's grinning.

Piotr drops a light kiss on her head. (He has to bend over a lot to do it. But he's used to that.)

"She will be very smart. Like her mama."

He is so glad he got English spelling by telepathic infodump.

It's not that Piotr isn't smart, but the idea of learning that system as a second language in the normal way really does not appeal to him. (Piotr is not great with languages anyway, which is one reason why telepathic infodumps are so very handy.)

...So their kid is going to get to learn at least two alphabets and languages the normal way. OH WELL.

...Well, that probably will not be something she'll ever think of in the top TEN reasons to hate her parents when she's a teenager, anyway?

"Like her daddy too," she answers, and it's slightly scolding, even as she reaches up and backwards to touch his cheek.

She's well aware Piotr may not be a genius, but he's no dummy. "And a little artist. We'll have to teach her not to scribble on the walls early, or we'll be in danger of destroying walls that should be moved into the Louvre."

She's frowning, a little, though it doesn't affect her tone as she peers at part of the screen, the part dealing with the baby--their daughter's--mutant gene, murmuring, "Hmm," for a moment, before shrugging and closing the window, then turning in her chair to look up at him.

"So in summary, she'll be absolutely perfect," Kate concludes, wrapping her arms around Piotr's waist, which is at just about the right level to do so, and smiling at him. "A teeny, tiny, adorable and perfect baby girl. With an entirely too large and weird family to go with the too big name. It's a perfect match."

Edited 2010-09-12 05:34 (UTC)

That hmm makes him study her sidelong, and peer again at the computer. But he still can't make any sense of most of Beast's medical records -- medical jargon is still not Piotr's strongest point, even if various life experiences have taught him more than he wanted to know, and Hank doesn't try to make his files easy to read -- and Kate doesn't seem worried. He lets it go, at least for now.

"Da," he says comfortably, settling his arms around her shoulders. "She will grow into them both."

"Poor kid," she says, mock-mournfully, but she can't keep herself from grinning up at him. "...Man, and I thought we got teased and I was overprotected when it came to dating things. How many uncles with shotguns and/or mutant powers is she going to have, exactly, not to mention the much scarier aunts?"

...Well. Goddess, assassin, celestial avatar...yeah, the aunts are scarier.

She caught that glance, too, and so after a moment she glances back at the screen and points at part of it. "Notice anything?" It's an honest question--because she's not sure it is unusual. Her experience with mutant babies and their scans is extremely limited, and basically consists of Nathan Christopher, back when he was called Chris and she babysat him and before he had the giant messiah complex (bah-bump bump!) and the whole older-than-her thing.

Piotr shakes his head, studying it -- in thought, rather than negation.

"It is different," he says, looking at the repeated gene images. "Just a little -- see, here, and here."

"But I do not know if that is normal. I know babies, but I do not know genetic scans. Especially like this. What is to be expected."

And there are so many variables. It's terrifying, in a way, to think of that little life, and of all these figures and scans he doesn't understand describing a baby's body and future.

"I don't either. But it's her X-Gene. And it's the only thing changing." She's gnawing her lip thoughtfully. "I mean, okay, we knew she'd be a mutant, so that doesn't surprise me. And Hank doesn't have it highlighted or anything, and I'm not going to go through Cable's old records from when--when Maddie," and there's a name they don't bring up much these days, "was pregnant."

Maddie, it should be remembered, taught Kate how to fly a plane.

Kitty was a bridesmaid at her and Scott's wedding--and danced with Piotr at it, after catching the bouquet. (That seems to happen to her a lot, in retrospect, at X-Weddings. Possibly when she caught the bouquet at Brian and Meggan's and he caught the garter they should have taken the hint.)

So it makes sense that she shakes her head after a moment and is gnawing her lip again. "So I don't know. Maybe all mutant babies do that. And like I said, Hank doesn't even have notes here. But it makes me wonder a little."

"Am I being an overly nervous mother? Because I swore I wouldn't be, and if I am already, she's going to be doomed." It's lightly phrased, but a real question.

There are a lot of names that they don't say very often. (This is what happens when your school has a graveyard attached. Among other factors.)

Odd, and more than a little sad, to think of Maddie in those days. A long time ago, like so much.

He half-smiles, even though he's wondering (and worrying) too, and squeezes her shoulder lightly. "No. You are looking out for your daughter."

Daughter.

"That is being a good mother."

She may have been a bit more tensed than she realized till she relaxes at that, looking up at him and smiling.

"...Hey. You. Get a chair. You're too tall still." It's a little scolding, as she leans back in the chair. "I'll get a crick in my neck. And then have to beg many more hours of massage from you."

Which she totally won't do anyway. No.

"...She's fine. I know she's fine, I can read enough to know she's fine. For all I know, it could just be because of my mutant gene, too. I'm just." Kate pauses and then sighs and rubs her face as she looks at the screen.

"I don't know what I am. It's niggling at my brain, and I don't know why. I hate that."

Like he doesn't know this.

She closes the laptop, though, when Piotr sits on the bed, and proceeds to move the few steps it takes her to curl up in his lap and wrap his arms around her, deliberately setting one of his hands on her stomach.

(She had, of all things--one she didn't think of till Hank told her--to get a maternity belly-button ring. It itches. She insists that it itches, though Hank says that she's imagining it. But somehow, she feels weird and entirely too maternal at the thought of just taking it out.)

"Or maybe," she admits with a sigh, "I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop still. Which is not what I should be doing. I should be poking you about the fact that now we still have to pick out a first and middle name. And yes. She gets a middle name, traditional or not. She can still be Petrovna too. And again with the hating of us when she has to learn how to spell the entire thing."

Beat.

"I guess we don't have to put Pryde in, though."

Piotr lifts his free hand to stroke her hair lightly, and listens to the words pour out. Kate has always been good at that; she always has more words ready to talk at or about or around any feeling. Piotr always has to search for his, even in Russian.

They balance out.

"It is only one syllable," he says -- lightly, because this is a subject that matters, and treading carefully around it matters too -- and kisses her hair.

"She will have a long name no matter what."

(He would love for the baby to have only his name, because he would love for Kate to be his wife and to have his name too.

But the name isn't really the important part there. And they've talked about this, and she said maybe and not now.)

Surprisingly, she's silent, and for more than a few seconds, after that, before she says softly, "It's more than one syllable," and admits to a lot with that.

The baby first, she said--but they didn't think it would take so long.

She's had a lot of time to think.

The baby first, yes--but she's been thinking, a bit, about what comes second.

Especially after her conversation with Logan.

It takes Kate a moment to realize she's fisted a hand around part of Piotr's shirt and is holding him comfortably closer than even just resting against him--and it feels right.

I'm sorry for the time I wasted. I'm sorry for the time you did, too.

"Besides. It's the Rasputin family. And it's not like Pryde was my family's original name, anyway." It's not her normal babble, with her voice too soft and slow and her mind on other things more than what she's saying.

Except, maybe, that what she's thinking a lot is the Rasputin Family.

The baby first, she reminds herself.

"We...don't need the Pryde. It's okay," she says finally, and smoothes her hand slowly over his shirt where she'd been clutching it, watching the fabric react to her touch.

"It's a little shorter, anyway."

But it isn't, really, about the one syllable at all. And she knows he knows that.

"All right," he says, softly.

He was already holding her very close.

"Just Rasputina, then."

It's not just one syllable, and they both know it.

His heart is so very full.

She just closes her eyes and listens to his heartbeat, thinks on her conversation with Logan, and says, after a minute, in a whisper, "Baby first," but kisses his chest gently after doing so.

And then clears her throat before asking, "So. Last name covered. That just leaves the whole first and middle names thing, where we don't have only two to choose from, or narrow it down from, or whatever. Any thoughts on either?"

She does, on the middle one, but first...

Uh.

There's a lot of names.

"Though I've been kinda guessing you'd like a Russian name for the first one."

"Da." The syllable is not chosen without mild humor, but it's true too.

"At least a name that has a Russian version."

And then he will never call her anything else.

Uh, as Katya knows.

"Gee, however did I think of that one," she says dryly, and can't quite force the question mark into her tone.

But she's smiling, as she pokes him gently.

"Da, da, tovarisch. All right." Her head tilts a little, thoughtfully. "Well, if she's Rasputina, a Russian name fits anyway. Besides," she admits with a sigh, "I keep thinking of those and Japanese names for the most part, anyway. Well, and two in Skrull, but I'm pretty sure that's partially due to the culture-with-language download the Skrulls left me with," Kate finishes ruefully, rubbing her temple. "And I'm not...sure it's something most people can pronounce."

That gave her a headache, for the record.

"But seeing as we're not so much living in Russia or planning to any time soon, one with an easy English version." She nuzzles his nose with her own. "...Do you have a specific one in mind? Or two? Or even ten? I'm okay with ten."

Piotr doesn't bother to point out that she really will hate them if she has to learn how to spell a Skrull name.

"There are so many," he says ruefully, which is a conversation they have had in circles many times.

It's still true.

"There is none I have in mind specifically. Some I like more than others."

He kisses her lightly as punctuation. Since she's right there, and all.

"Anna," he offers, opting this time for the pick-names-off-the-top-of-my-head tactic. "Tatiana. Valeriya. Elizaveta."

This is not a comprehensive list by any means. Maybe brainstorming will work better than baby name books, though.

"Mm. We probably should avoid anything Anna, Anya, or Anastasia-like, really, or she'll be horribly mocked. And there's already that cartoon movie--I think we hid that one from you, actually. Never mind. You don't want to see it. Though," and it's with a glance at him sideways, "as sappy love songs go, there is one at the end that I might make you dance to with me someday. --Anyway. No Anna. Plus, with my middle name being Anne...that's a little too much input of our names into her own, maybe, once we have the Petrovna in there."

It's a little rambly, but it's happily so, as she shifts a little and then puts his hand on her stomach again, enjoying the thought of the tiny girl growing inside her.

"...I like Tatiana. Elizaveta, too. Not Valeriya, I think the Richards' daughter is named that. Maybe we could go over some websites or something with lists of names? Though--I think I know what I'd like for a middle name. If you're okay with it and it sounds good with whatever we pick for a first one."

She's been thinking about this for a while--mostly since they found out she was actually pregnant, but the thought had occurred to her before.

Cartoon movie?

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?"

"I hate to break it to you, Petrushka love, but in a year, you and I will be wishing for lists to figure things out from," she says dryly.

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.

Edited 2010-09-22 05:03 (UTC)

"She will not." Soft, and warm.

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.

(Well, maybe Kafe? No?)

"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.

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Three months later

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