round 3 overflow post

[starkmodistries.livejournal.com]

Round 3 Overflow Post

This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.

Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt

--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill

EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174

Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.

Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942

Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...

Comments

FILL: Everyday Love in Stockholm 150/?

[tahariel.livejournal.com]

Her face softens into that same smitten joy he’d seen before, her fingers curling in his grip as she flushes navy, gold-yellow eyes creasing with love. “Showing off, probably. Oh, Erik, he’s so beautiful. You should see him, he’s perfect. It’s like someone took me and Az and blended us together right down the middle.” Raven’s eyes well with tears, and Erik fumbles in his pocket for his handkerchief, a little baffled by the way she’s still smiling broadly enough that it looks as though it should hurt, handing it over and waiting patiently while she mops the wetness from her cheeks. He sits gingerly on the edge of her bed by her legs, twitching his cape to the side and out of the way.

“It’s a boy?” he asks, when she’s done, though she still looks a little watery. “A mutant?”

“Yes and yes. Well, you’ll see.” Her eyes flick down to the camera in his other hand, and she pulls a face. “Oh, really? Now, when I’m pretty much as disgusting as I’m ever going to be? Erik, it is so good you’re not trying to date women, let me just say that right now.”

“I’m on orders,” he says, and lifts it to take a quick snap of her crumpled-up face before she can knock the camera away, chuckling at her belated protest. “He’s worried, you know.” Neither of them have said Charles’ name yet, and he doesn’t intend to. Safer to talk around him, if other people might overhear.

“I’m fine,” Raven says, but she’s smiling, fondly, and he takes a photograph of that, too, lets the polaroid fall out onto the nubbly hospital blanket to develop, slowly, in the beam of sunlight that falls in on them from the open window. “He’s going to love the baby, Erik, so much. I think secretly he’s always wanted a brood of his own, you know? He’s going to be a great uncle.”

Somewhere upstairs the uncle in question is probably pacing, Erik thinks, anxious and waiting for news as he sets the apartment back to rights after his anger earlier. There’s probably wringing of hands and biting of lips, glances at an elevator that never moves to bring Erik back to him. “He will be.” Erik tries not to think about the brood he can’t give Charles, a new and previously un-thought-of addition to his long list of worries. “Have you named the baby yet?”

“About that - ”

“Magneto!” Azazel swings into the room with more bounce in his step than Erik has ever seen before, and a smile so wide it’s disturbing to see on his normally sober face. Even his tail has bounce in it, coiling energetically in figure eights and s-curls over his shoulder as he strides into the room and immediately goes to the far side of the bed to kiss Raven firmly on the mouth. There’s a bundle of blankets in his arms, and something that might be a tiny hand has escaped to curl its fingers loosely in the fabric. It’s very definitely blue. “Magneto, my friend, comrade, isn’t she more beautiful now than you have ever seen her? Though it is not Mystique you have come to see, I think,” and if anything the grin grows somehow wider, until Erik is concerned that the top half of Azazel’s head might simply come unhinged from the rest of him. “I have a son!”

He has to smile back, then, because the other man is so honestly happy it’s impossible to resent him for the last small wisps of jealousy that he’s never quite rid himself of. “So I heard. Raven was just about to tell me what you’re naming him.”

Azazel is too busy beaming at Erik to see the tiny wince cross Raven’s face, but Erik sees it, the smallest of narrowings of her eyes and a twitch of her mouth that betrays her. “I know how important family is to Mystique, so we have agreed to name him after her brother,” the Russian says, bringing up his hand to cup the baby’s head and peering down into the nest of blankets. “Kurt. It’s a good name.”

Erik cannot help but glance at Raven, but she shakes her head minutely, and so all he says is, “A very good name. Can I see him?”