Kurt's head turned from him to the door as his mother exited. "Mamaaaa?" he whined and squirmed in Azazel's arms.
"Shhh, is ok," he tried to soothe the boy. "We have special time today da?"
The baby's lip began to quiver as tears fell down his cheeks. "Mama!" he cried, squirming further.
Azazel's heart broke minutely as he let the boy down, Kurt crawling to the door. The infant continued to cry as he held onto the door to lift himself onto his feet, banging a hand against it. "Mama mama!"
"Moya mal'chik," Azazel sighed, sitting on the floor. "Mama will be home soon. Is time with Daddy."
The boy's cries seemed to escalate. Azazel found himself jumping up to look out the window quickly. He didn't want Moira to hear. He could see her rushing back in and declaring him an unfit father, and that would be the end of it.
"Dorogaya," Azazel began, moving closer to his son. Kurt had fallen on his behind, his cries slowing but still steady. Azazel caught a toy out of the corner of his eye, one that he knew Kurt loved. "Look," he picked it up and danced it around him. "See? Look at toy."
Kurt watched him uneasily. Azazel continued to make the toy dance. Finally, Kurt reached out and swatted at it playfully. "BA!"
"You don't hit friend!" Azazel said playfully. He moved the toy closer to Kurt and tickled his tummy with it. Kurt giggled a bit and swatted it again. "BA!"
Azazel's eyes went comically wide. "You be careful, don't want to make toy angry."
Kurt moved closer and hit it again. "BA!"
"Uh oh, he is not happy," he shook the toy as if it were becoming agitated.
"BA!" Kurt smacked it again, giggling.
"Oh no, he is going to attack!" Azazel moved the toy to Kurt again, tickling him and knocking him gently backward. Kurt laughed that hearty baby laugh that made Azazel smile. He continued to tickle until Kurt calmed, his hands pulling at the toy. "We have good day today, eh moya sladkaya?"
~&Q~
The day had been wonderful, Azazel loved being able to take care of Kurt on his own. He of course appreciated Moira, he had no idea where his son would be today if it wasn't for her. She'd taken him in, raised him as her own, and the boy had so far had a clearly fabulous life. Azazel had a deep respect for her, and he was thankful his son had found someone like that. Mystique couldn't have been half the mother Moira was.
He decided, to show his gratitude, to get some things done around the house. There was no reason Moira should have to clean after coming home. He found some chicken in the freezer and began cooking as well. When his son's mother came home, she seemed shocked at all he had done. He wasn't sure why she was, why wouldn't he do these things?
After dinner, he let her sit on the couch with Kurt while he cleaned up. Once he was done, he wasn't exactly sure what to do with himself.
"You can join us," she told him.
He came and sat in a chair by them. "You did good today," she said. "He's happy."
"Am happy to make him happy," Azazel reached out and stroked the boys head. "If I can work to make him happy every day, will make me feel good."
Moira smiled at him, then reached out and grabbed his hand. Her brow furrowed at the dressing, clearly unmoved. "Have you changed this?"
He looked to his injury with a shrug. "No?"
"You have to change it, it'll get infected," she handed Kurt over and stood with a sigh. She grabbed a few items from the bathroom and came back in. Kneeling beside him, she took his hand again. "In your line of work, how can you not know even the most basic first aid?"
Azazel shrugged, looking away. "Never need it."
"That's why you're so scarred up," she said. He could feel her manipulating the injury, wiping it with a wet cloth. "You'll have a hard time chasing after our son with one hand."
Azazel smiled. That was the first time she'd referred to Kurt as theirs. It was an important validation to him, that she was willing to make this cooperative. His eye traveled back to her, as she finished the bandaging. "There," she finished with the tape. "All done." She gave him a smile, and then went about putting away the supplies.
He flexed his hand a bit, his other one around his son. There was something about her smile. She was a beautiful woman, but she was a human. Still. There was something about that smile.