simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's a fine evening in early spring in Logan City; the first really nice weather of the season, with the sun lingering above the horizon well after the office closes. Simon's carrying his winter coat over one arm as he steps into the house and sets down his briefcase. He doesn't call out; even at this hour, it's probably not a good idea to make too much noise until he's sure he wouldn't wake anybody.

He's got two guesses as to where he might find Kaylee, and because of the weather he's going to check the sunroom and/or backyard first.

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"She is a baby of the people," Kaylee says, laughing quietly. "But fine."

Simon laughs a little at that, careful not to jostle the tiny warm almost-slumbering weight on his shoulder, and makes his way back inside.

The baby's room is next to theirs, for relative ease of midnight feedings; it's dim now, lit only by the golden glow of the nightlight and the luminous star pattern on the ceiling.

He bends over the crib and gently, gingerly, sets her down inside. Her legs twitch a little and she blinks, her tiny face puckering; he waits to see if she'll start crying or drift back down into sleep.

Meanwhile, Kaylee's in the kitchen, cooking rice and chopping vegetables.

There's a not-insignificant part of her that wants to be the one to put the baby to bed. But Simon's back at work, and he doesn't get much time with her -- and frankly, the quiet and focus is nice.

She hums quietly under her breath as she works.

A blurry wail sounds from the baby monitor in the kitchen -- not the strident howl of genuine distress, more of a general sleepy complaint. They can both tell the difference by now.

Simon's voice undercuts the wailing, murmuring something in low soothing tones. It turns into a hum, tuneful and wordless and interspersed with shhh.

...yes, Simon can be on duty.

Smiling a little, she turns to make the sauce.

True to Kaylee's prediction, Simon makes it back to the kitchen just as she's finishing.

"So this was one of the times when singing worked," he says, wryly amused.

"I heard," she says, smiling, setting the table. "It was good."

"Dinner smells nice." He glances at what's already on the table, and moves to get out glasses.

"It'll taste nice, too." She moves past him back to the counter, where two plates await. "Promise. So -- what happened today?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he says, setting down the glasses at the table. "It's a quiet week. Next week should be busier, we're expecting a new shipment of vaccines."

She puts down a plate at Simon's place, and at her own, and lets out a sigh.

And gives him a rueful smile. "This is downright civilized."

"Makes for a nice change." He's smiling too. "Aren't you glad she's starting to develop a sleep schedule?"

Kaylee raises one eyebrow.

"Did you want to start getting up with her? More quality time?"

He's inclined to protest start, but the fact is that he hasn't been the one getting up with her since going back to work.

"You know I will if you need me to," he says instead, apologetically.

"Yes," she says, a little shortly. "I'm glad she's starting to develop a sleep schedule."

"Sorry," he murmurs. "That was insensitive."

"You're gonna have to get creative about how to make it up to me."

"I'll come up with a list by bedtime," he promises, making for the refrigerator. "What do you want to drink?"

"Water's fine."

Wine would be better. But she shouldn't.

There's a pitcher of chilled water in the fridge, and a carafe of iced tea. He brings out both, and pours a glass of water for Kaylee.

"Thank you." She gives him a small, crooked smile.

(It's not like she gets to see him all that much these days, either.

It's worth the effort to be gracious.)

He dishes himself some rice, passes her the bowl.

"So I was thinking," he starts, and is interrupted by a chime ringing from his pocket.

Kaylee looks up, a little resigned.

It's not the first time he's had to take a wave during dinner.

"Go ahead." Quiet.

From the chime, it's a message, not an invitation to realtime conversation; he can glance quickly at the sender and decide if it's worth interrupting dinner for.

"Sorry," he says again, reaching for his pad.

"... it's from Jordie."

Kaylee sits up a little straighter. "What's he say?"