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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"Yeah, let me just ..." Carefully, and a little regretfully, he disengages from the embrace and reaches out to begin the process of transferring the infant to his own shoulder.

"Hey," he murmurs, "hey, Jessamine. Prettiest girl. Baba's got you."

"Jessie," Kaylee says softly -- and amused.

(This is not the first time they've had this talk.)

Apparently the transfer does not disturb the baby. Kaylee slumps back, relieved.

(They've had this talk often enough now, in fact, that he doesn't feel any particular need to go through it again. His position is that they made a point of giving their daughter a name with many different possible variations, so there's no reason not to use any given variation until she's old enough to express a preference of her own.

... in the meantime, he'll probably use Jessie as often as anything else.)

Simon cradles her against his shoulder with the crook of his arm, fingers spread to support her back and head, as he carefully gets to his feet.

"If she stays this sleepy," he says with cautious optimism, "I'll be back down in time to help with dinner."

"Hate to break it to you, handsome," Kaylee says, stretching, "but I'm not making us anything that takes a real whole lot of time or effort. I intend to be done by the time she's down."

"Oh, well, in that case." He smiles, amused and fond. "I'll be back down as soon as her highness lets me."

"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.