Story of a Boy, "I Think It's A Boy"

[sincere]

It's easy to lose track of what journal you're posting in. ^^;;; Yesterday's post was accidental, but then I said to myself, you know what? Who cares? If you come here you probably don't mind my writing anyway. So I'll post more, because the alternative is going out there and letting my mother yell at me some more for things that any reasonable human being would acknowledge isn't my fault. Whoo!

Original
Title: Story of a Boy
Author: kay_willow
Rating: PG-13. Some... well, mostly awkwardness, one supposes.
Notes: Response to the "hospital scene" challenge on petitte_soeur and the "Deja Vu" challenge on beginnings -- challenge #6, "I think it's a boy." Written in about 50 minutes after many distractions, 466 words. Coyote and Sasha, with special guest appearance by...



Story of a Boy

"I think it's a boy," he said dubiously, "but it might be a vampire."

"Actually... I'm not sure the two are mutually exclusive," Coyote murmured, perching on the arm of the bland sofa and leaning over to observe the baby in the cradle of Sasha's folded legs. It was sleeping.

Sasha was inclined to be contrary. "You never know," he argued. "They named it Constantine. What the hell kind of a name is that?"

"You would know better than I. Jillia said that it's an established Russian name."

Which was true, but damned if he'd enjoy it. "It's spelled wrong," he insisted.

Coyote smiled at him, and then down at the newborn. Quietly, he said, "Is she all right?"

The question was troubling. It had been pounding through his mind for over 24 hours now, in time with the distant thrum that sounded from within the long sterile hospital halls. He shrugged it off, hiding. "Of course she is. Jill needs full familial consent before she can do something dramatic like not be all right." She had felt free to suffer massive internal hemorrhaging without permission, however. It was the second night of hospital-haunting. Sasha muttered, "It's stupid to name the kid Konstanin anyhow. Dad named us Jill and Alexander for a reason, man; he was trying to move away from the bizarre Russian names."

"Exotic Russian names," Coyote corrected, from the securely aloof standpoint of one who has lived three-quarters of his life with the altogether unremarkable upper-class American white-boy name Colin. "Are you complaining?"

"It doesn't look like a Konstantin," said Sasha, in fact complaining.

This amused Coyote almost as much as the comment that their nephew might be a genderless vampire. "He looks rather helpless and chubby right now; what do you suggest?"

There was no good answer to that, so he settled for a lukewarm, "I should've known better than to trust a Victorian Englishman who voluntarily goes by Nathan to pick out a decent name."

"He loves you," Coyote breathed.

Sasha looked up, startled by the non sequitur. "Nathaniel?" he demanded. "I hope not. Jillia said she didn't want me to steal any more of her boyfriends after that time when I was sixteen..."

"Constantine," his lover interrupted with a gentle smile, leaning over to tuck his chin against Sasha's shoulder, oblivious to the orderlies walking past. "He loves you."

The shorter man looked down at the infant with mild concern, uncertain what he was looking for. His nephew was curled up peacefully, asleep, as infants sometimes are, and the tiny fingers of one hand were clutched around a fold of Sasha's cargo pants, holding on tight even in sleep.

Suddenly Sasha thought: This is my nephew.

"He probably just likes my pants," he said, looking away, and Coyote hugged him.