fic: the mysteries of a rapidly expanding universe
Title: The Mysteries of a Rapidly Expanding Universe
Pairing: none, Kutner + Rachel Cuddy
Rating: all ages
Notes: A short ficlet, 250 words, for Kutner Fest at kutner_love. Much love to the mods for running this, and especially to swatkat24 for the insta-beta. ♥
"Do you mind?" Cuddy says.
She's at the front desk, trying to dig through her bag with one hand while balancing the baby against her shoulder with the other. Someone, her assistant maybe, is at her side, reading from an apparently endless list of messages, and Kutner hasn't noticed the hospital imploding since Cuddy has been away on leave but maybe he just hasn't been paying attention.
Anyway, when she looks over at him, and says it, he blinks, a little surprised to be asked. But he replies, "Uh, okay."
He holds out his arms to take her.
Kutner has always thought that babies are kind of cool, actually. The way their brains work, for example; the way they learn, language, coordination, problem solving, neural pathways being created impossibly fast as their worlds expand at a rate that will never be matched again in their lifetimes. And they don't even know it.
Plus, they are seriously cute.
Rachel Cuddy definitely is, just coming out of the scrawny newborn phase and on her way to roly-poly ball of baby fat. Right now she's drooling with her tongue sticking out a little, big blue eyes fixed on his face in that intense way babies have.
He can't help it; not that he'd want to. He grins down at her, at this tiny person in his arms intent on staring back, all wide-eyed wonder, in the process of figuring it all out.
And he tries to remember a time when everything was new.
Pairing: none, Kutner + Rachel Cuddy
Rating: all ages
Notes: A short ficlet, 250 words, for Kutner Fest at kutner_love. Much love to the mods for running this, and especially to swatkat24 for the insta-beta. ♥
"Do you mind?" Cuddy says.
She's at the front desk, trying to dig through her bag with one hand while balancing the baby against her shoulder with the other. Someone, her assistant maybe, is at her side, reading from an apparently endless list of messages, and Kutner hasn't noticed the hospital imploding since Cuddy has been away on leave but maybe he just hasn't been paying attention.
Anyway, when she looks over at him, and says it, he blinks, a little surprised to be asked. But he replies, "Uh, okay."
He holds out his arms to take her.
Kutner has always thought that babies are kind of cool, actually. The way their brains work, for example; the way they learn, language, coordination, problem solving, neural pathways being created impossibly fast as their worlds expand at a rate that will never be matched again in their lifetimes. And they don't even know it.
Plus, they are seriously cute.
Rachel Cuddy definitely is, just coming out of the scrawny newborn phase and on her way to roly-poly ball of baby fat. Right now she's drooling with her tongue sticking out a little, big blue eyes fixed on his face in that intense way babies have.
He can't help it; not that he'd want to. He grins down at her, at this tiny person in his arms intent on staring back, all wide-eyed wonder, in the process of figuring it all out.
And he tries to remember a time when everything was new.