People Behind the Masks 1/2
Jul. 12th, 2017 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
just_a_phaseThe various items she's made and programmed for the farm haven't taken up all of her time. Now that most of the major work is finished, they take up even less. That means Kitty can work on other things.
Projects of her own, old and new. Some in code, some in metal. Some will blend the two.
But there's one thing that keeps her out late in her office more often than anything else. It causes Piotr to come out and silently wrap a blanket around her shoulders. Sometimes he then sets a mug of herbal tea next to her, softly kisses her hair, and leaves. Sometimes he reaches his large hand around her much-smaller one and suspends or shuts down the program, app, or computer. Then he lifts her up and takes her to bed.
She has spent so many hours looking online for even the faintest of traces of the Red Room that the hours long-ago became days. Months.
You can't hide forever, she swears each night, and in the meantime--
--there is work to do.
She's known Iron Man since she was 14. She's worked with him. They're not friends, but they've been teammates.
But out of the suit--that's different and new.
After discussion, they had agreed to work in his workshop as opposed to hers. Common sense.
The case she carries by her side is heavier than it looks like it is by how she walks and holds it; she and he have technologoy and suits and armor to talk. His armor and a suit of hers that needs help.
The last few weeks, though, have had more interesting search results than ever before. And she's pondering over what she's read and seen on a screen, twisting the words and images about like an object she's trying to figure out.
She may need to bring that up, too. She's not sure yet.
First, she supposes, she should set the damned case down before she loses an arm.
Projects of her own, old and new. Some in code, some in metal. Some will blend the two.
But there's one thing that keeps her out late in her office more often than anything else. It causes Piotr to come out and silently wrap a blanket around her shoulders. Sometimes he then sets a mug of herbal tea next to her, softly kisses her hair, and leaves. Sometimes he reaches his large hand around her much-smaller one and suspends or shuts down the program, app, or computer. Then he lifts her up and takes her to bed.
She has spent so many hours looking online for even the faintest of traces of the Red Room that the hours long-ago became days. Months.
You can't hide forever, she swears each night, and in the meantime--
--there is work to do.
She's known Iron Man since she was 14. She's worked with him. They're not friends, but they've been teammates.
But out of the suit--that's different and new.
After discussion, they had agreed to work in his workshop as opposed to hers. Common sense.
The case she carries by her side is heavier than it looks like it is by how she walks and holds it; she and he have technologoy and suits and armor to talk. His armor and a suit of hers that needs help.
The last few weeks, though, have had more interesting search results than ever before. And she's pondering over what she's read and seen on a screen, twisting the words and images about like an object she's trying to figure out.
She may need to bring that up, too. She's not sure yet.
First, she supposes, she should set the damned case down before she loses an arm.
no subject
Date: 2017-08-27 06:40 pm (UTC)He types in a few more commands. Reed Richard's design for unstable molecules flash to life on the screen in front of them. "We're going to be teaching these things how to dance."
no subject
Date: 2017-08-27 07:12 pm (UTC)Kitty's eyes don't, in fact, sparkle as she looks at the unstable molecule. This is life, not an anime.
But they do look almost hungry as she murmurs, "I do so love to dance."
This is great because it's doing something, yes.
But what they'll be doing--
She's been wanting more for longer than she realizes. It is not like a parched woman presented with water. Nice cliché, but not accurate.
It's a feeling much more like she's been ignoring a muscle for years and suddenly is using it again--and it hasn't atrophied at all.
Her stomach has one hand on it for a moment, and then she's bringing up more files from some of the more specialized uniforms mutants have worn from unstable molecules, and she has no idea how wide she's smiling.
--and she can't wait to tell her Luddite husband just who it was that confirmed her pregnancy.