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Sunny day, crisp — a perfect New York fall. Piotr isn't one for landscapes but he's been in the mood to capture the Rear Grounds of the institute on paper this week. Maybe he feels he needs to do it while there's still time, though he can't explain why. Fall just feels like endings sometimes, everything tucked in before the long winter sleep.
So, he's sitting at the back of the grounds, on a bench under an old oak tree turning colors, finishing the painting. Still using watercolors for now. He's starting to feel ready for a change of medium, keeps wondering what the same scene would look like in pastels. A thermos of coffee, almost empty, is on the bench beside him.
*
While it's rarely clear where Piotr can be found on the grounds in the middle of the day, when seen leaving in the morning with his art supplies in tow, there's strange certainty about seeking him out in the depths of the campus foliage. Tucked into a large, oversized grey sweater, and a pair of blue jeans, a familiar figure walks up the path. Kitty has already spent much of the morning meandering the trails — looking, but not exactly seeking — to clear and, perhaps, focus her fuzzier thoughts.
Ordinarily, she'd have taken to the city for this walk, but something keeps her and calls her to this space. With a second large thermos of coffee tucked under her arm, she slides up to the working artist and sets the metallic canister upon the bench.
Mischief creeps into her gaze; glimmering with unbridled playfulness: neither of which are particularly odd. Something — an air, buzz, or maybe the tautness of her jaw — indicates just a hint of trepidation as she cranes her neck to peek at the picture taking shape. Her chin drops in an indication of respect for the work, but that edge of nervousness remains. "Hi," she greets softly before sliding her fingers into the single pouch pocket of the cozy sweater. "I knew I'd find you somewhere on the path," her head turns to look back from whence she came.
*
"Should I wear a little bell?" Piotr teases, leaning over to kiss the top of Kitty's head. "So I jingle when I go and am easier to find?" He rinses off his brush, then sets it aside so he can pay attention to her.
"Is something wrong? Or did you want company?" He drapes his arm across the back of the bench, providing Kitty with space to snuggle up. "You have that look." Something is up but he's not worried about it — not until he knows what it is.
*
"Ha! Don't tempt me!" Kitty casts Piotr a lopsided smirk. "A bell would be helpful. Of course, only as much as it can be if you're completely still." The open invitation to settle against him is easily taken, and in short order, Kitty's weight falls on the much larger Russian. She inhales a long deep breath at the questions before exhaling softly. "You have a talent for getting to the heart of things." But having been given a few extra moments to think about the questions, she takes to the second, "I always want your company." The grin grows. "Not the case with everyone, but you're exceptional."
While she manages to keep the thoughts light, she also can't ignore the ever-growing butterflies in her stomach, and so she asks a question of her own, "You saw the Bugle. A lot is up. It's just a matter of time before they know who I am." The tactic is one she's taken to well, and one Piotr should be more than familiar with by now: when in doubt or buying time, distract, distract, distract.
*
"Mm. A good likeness. I was proud of you when I saw it, though I am always proud of you. I do not get to see you in action nearly enough." Piotr wraps his arm around Kitty to give her a little squeeze. "And, yes. They will know who you are. Does it bother you?" A little distraction is good, to give her time to work up to whatever she wants to say.
*
The slow impish smile that spreads over Kitty's features speaks spades more than her thoughts, "No. Not exactly." Her cheeks flush a pale pink, and the smile finds strength in the simplicity of her next thought, "I mean, I wouldn't have wanted my picture in the paper, but," her chin lifts in search of Piotr's gaze, "I am a mutant. Sure, I can blend, but I am proud of who I am."
Her lips twitch and the smile fails. "But," and there is always a but, "I think the picture did me good… in a way. I mean, seeing it." She forces a tighter, smaller smile, "I'm grown now. I don't belong here." Her eyebrows draw together, "I know we talked about it earlier, but with everything coming to some kind of resolution I think… I think I need to move on. Sooner than later."
And then with a small tremor in her voice, she corrects the sentence, "We need to move on. Together."
*
"I agree," Piotr says easily. It's not as though it hasn't been on his mind. A man his age shouldn't be living in a school unless he's working there or teaching and, officially, he's doing neither. "My papers are in order, I can work anywhere I wish, and there is no schooling left for me here that I cannot do elsewhere. Even if that were not true, I would go anyway, if you asked me to go. Have you thought about where?"
*
Reassurance washes over Kitty at Piotr's response. "Well…" and for a moment it seems like she's going to get through the conversation in an entirely adult way, free from the rambling that she so easily takes to when remotely nervous, agitated, or upset, "Brooklyn." She takes a long deep breath, "But — " and now the floodgates open " — it's not really about the where it's that I want to share an apartment with you — just the two of us and not in a oh-this-is-my-roommate-who-happens-to-be-a-man but as the man that I live with — not the one across the hall but the one I wake up to every morning and fall asleep to every night and I know it's not exactly okay, but I'm tired of people telling me what I can and can't do — and I don't want one of those Dick Van Dyke/Mary Tyler Moore relationships where there are two separate beds in one room I want to sleep next to you and feel your warmth in the middle of the night — " she may keep continuing if she's not interrupted.
*
Piotr doesn't laugh at her, he listens, turning a little to look at her as she speaks. He smiles as she rambles on, brushes his knuckles across her cheek. If she doesn't finish what she's saying, he might not get to hear it for months, if it doesn't make her implode first.
*
And without interruption, the rambling continues " — I want to feel you against me and listen to the sound of your heartbeat — I want to feel your hands against my skin — I want to kiss every square inch of your body for you to know what you mean to me — and it terrifies me — I am so scared but I'm so in love with you sometimes I feel like I'm about to burst — I don't know how to do any of this — I don't know what is or isn't right — but I know I want you in every sense of the word and — " her face becomes hot with blush " — I don't even know how to talk to you about it — I've wasted the better part of the morning walking the trails to try to figure out how to say this and I'm probably saying it all wrong and maybe we aren't even on the same page, but I feel like I could burst — ever since that day when I threw you out that window, and we had been kissing on your bed, I've played this weird game of 'what if' with myself — what if the music box hadn't gone off and reprogrammed my brain — what if we'd lingered there — "
*
"I think you are doing just fine at talking about it." Piotr leans in to give Kitty a kiss. "Sometimes things are complicated but this is not a complicated thing, Katya. What is right is what is right for us. Nothing else matters. I love you as well and, if we'd stayed, had not been interrupted, things would be different now — yes. I think they would be. But that is not a bad thing. Waiting has made us less complacent. More certain about each other and the future."
Piotr leans back a little, but it's only to look Kitty in the eyes. "I like that neither of us are dishonest with ourselves, or each other. I want you in our bed more than I ever wanted you in mine. There is a difference. Two beds would be ridiculous, and dishonest. So would two bedrooms. If we live together then we will be together. It is the most true expression of what we are to each other, I think. We are on the same page, as you say."
*
The rambling just stops when Piotr speaks. The kiss is easily returned, and Kitty relaxes underneath the easiness of Piotr's words. She swallows hard and studies his face in earned silence, and her lips tug into a small smile. Hazel eyes study his much lighter ones and the smile turns toothy. Her expression softens, and her fingertips reach up to brush against Piotr's cheek. Still crimson from the rant she'd just gone on, she feels just a little bit ridiculous. And ridiculousness wins a question of its own: "So… that's a yes, then?"
*
"A yes. And a 'not a moment too soon'," Piotr adds, giving her a wink and a grin. "You've seemed like you've been holding your breath for days. Weeks. Now, you breathe. And, so you know, I love Brooklyn. There are whole neighborhoods where everyone speaks Russian. And I saw several synagogues last time I was there." He pauses, looking sheepish, blushing a little. "Not that I was looking at neighborhoods." Not at all.
*
Kitty's smile strengthens at the observations. She twists to face him, allowing her arm to rest on the back of the bench and her hand to support her chin. The blush in Piotr's cheeks encourages her easy-to-find excitement. "You wanted this too?" the last warrants the sparkliest smile she can muster. "We should find an apartment," she observes softly. "A cozy one bedroom in a pokey corner of Brooklyn." Her teeth play at her bottom lip. "I looked yesterday and there's lots of places that you could paint, and a lot of admiration for art…" Her cheeks flush brighter. "And I don't have to work at Harry's. There are lots of places across the city I could waitress — " or do something relevant to her degree. Whichever.
*
"We might have to… exaggerate. To get an apartment," Piotr warns. "Not that I would not marry you, happily, if that was your preference, but you have never seemed inclined to it. I do not need a piece of paper to be devoted to you, I never will. But people rarely rent to a man and a woman unless they believe they are married — or related. And I have no intention of pretending to be your brother."
*
Kitty's eyes roll dramatically, "The world is so backwards. If we needed a piece of paper to be committed to each other, we wouldn't be very committed, would we?" She stifles a chuckle, "It's not that I'm against marriage, it just seems like an unnecessary hoop when I just want to share my life with you. I don't want to lie about… who I am. I'm Jewish. I'm a mutant. I'm smitten for you." Again her lips twitch. "But if we need to claim to be married, it's not… a lie, exactly." Her teeth play at her bottom lip. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not convinced a marriage license could ever make that stronger."
She swallows hard. "But I want to share a life with you. If I need to prove that to someone else by having that piece of paper… Pete, I'd go to City Hall right now…"
*
"I know." Piotr pulls Kitty close to give her a kiss. "If we do that, we should do it for ourselves. It is not a lie. The paper does nothing. People do. Every day, they have to decide again, they make their choices, they put in their work. I don't need a piece of paper to say what you are to me. I will paint walls and fix the plumbing and make you dinner and go to bed next to you and that is what matters."
A shadow passes over Piotr's expression and his tone is solemn, his words slow. It's obvious he's thought about this. "The rules of this society, this government, they are not always our friends, Katya. We have to make our own way, because of what we are, so paying lip service to those rules for convenience does not become us. It is a matter of principle. If and when we wish to do things differently, for ourselves, we will do what suits us at that time. It is not lying to anyone to say that I am committed to you right now, for better or for worse."
*
Affection comes easily, and Kitty's hands remain on Piotr's cheeks even after the kiss is broken. "And I will do our laundry, buy our groceries, vacuum our apartment, and bring you coffee when you've been painting so long you've lost track of the time. And I will always bear your burdens and try to make you laugh. And," Kitty's nose wrinkles, "will probably take up way more than my share of our bed," she virtually twinkles at the last. "No. It's definitely not a lie," she agrees quietly.
"Then… we'll tell whoever our landlord is that we're married. You are my family. My anchor. I think that's truer than some relationships that include the piece of paper."
*
"We cannot be invested in what people think of us, because they tend to think the worst of people like us. It is fine to do what we must to get a home of our own, though. If the landlord doesn't care, we can tell the truth." Piotr gives Kitty a warm smile, his eyes bright. "You are my family, Katya. And this is my favourite adventure yet. I even look forward to slaying all the spiders for you."
*
"And I don't. Honestly. I just want to live with you. And it's not because I need to live with a man. I can take care of myself. Genuinely. I own nothing worth taking and it's not like I'm incapable. It's because I want to make a life with you. Everyday. I want the exciting and the everyday. I want to make dinner together in our kitchen. I want to fall asleep against you reading in our living room. I want to make your mornings just a little sunnier… despite having a morning-person girlfriend." Kitty visibly shudders at the last. "No one said anything about spiders! They're terrifying beasts with beady eyes. I swear they know my thoughts."
*
"That would explain why I always see them running in circles, confused," Piotr says with a wink. "I will make sure they never bother you, though. Never fear. I will handle the spiders, you handle the terrifying ninjas. That seems like it's fair. When do you want to start looking for a place to live? Do we need to tell anyone? I have a little money put aside and I know I can get work on the waterfront or a bar, easily enough." He's huge. People will hire him.
*
"Yeaaaaah," Kitty drawls slowly. "To be honest, when the Professor cleaned up," she taps her temple, "I'm pretty sure he wondered what madness he'd come into. Especially the madness around what had happened and why." She chuckles, "Yeah, I'll handle all the ninjas that will inevitably knock on our door. In Brooklyn. Where I'm hoping we can live a semi-normal life." Despite not being normal. "We could start today if you're not too busy." Her teeth chew absently at her bottom lip. "I really did mean sooner than later. You know," her voice lowers to a whisper, "you were right. I've been distracted, and I just want to latch on to any slice of happiness I can. And I have some money from Harry's. Plus I'm cute and perky — there are lots of places to waitress in the city…"
*
"Then I think…" Piotr takes another look at his painting, then begins to pack up his paints and brushes. "I think that I am finished here as well. We can get a newspaper before we go and start looking, have dinner in the city. And, if you ever think life is not normal enough for us, I will leave my socks on the floor and you can yell at me about it, yes? That seemed to work for my parents. It is practically a family tradition."
*
Kitty peeks at the painting and then observes, "It's beautiful. If you don't have plans for it, I think it should hang in our living room." Pause. "Unless you're unhappy with it." Because she definitely doesn't have an artist's eye. She slides off the bench and nods. "Dinner would be nice. The socks?" her hand waves. "Not so much." With a soft smile she notes, "Yelling though, apparently our families have that much in common. But the fighting was mostly about me, to be honest." Her eyebrows draw together and she manages another smile. "So. To Brooklyn, then."
*
"Can you really see me yelling at anyone?" Piotr closes up his painting box and slides it away, then closes his book on his painting — they've been talking so long, it's dry enough to close. He tucks that away, too, and the thermos.
"I do not think it will be a problem for us. Neither will the socks, unless it ever makes you feel better to have something to grumble about."
Piotr gets up and offers Kitty his hand. "The painting will look very good in the living room, yes. Without this place, I do not think I would have you. So it will be nice to put it somewhere we can remember how lucky we are to have found each other in such a big world."
*