Holding One's Own
2/7/04 11:42![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bronze_ribbonsBecause I'm holed up in my study with a disgusting cold and a fierce case of not-wanting-to-work-on-what-I-oughter.
Holding One's Own
“Ivan, you idiot,” Miles sighed. “Your mother is going to kill both of us.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Ivan protested. “This isn’t Beta!”
“And I’ve had several centuries’ worth of practice,” murmured the fabulous creature he’d known as “Willa.” “And the lighting was usefully poor when we first met.”
“So things would have progressed to this point even without the maple ambrosia, hm?” Miles leaned back in his chair, studying the man he’d viewed for two years as his cousin’s girlfriend. Long brown hair. Flawless makeup – the chin as smooth as that of his daughter. A pleasant face. An attractive alto voice. Modest cleavage – but definitely cleavage. This may not be Beta, Miles thought to himself, but I fancy I see some Betan handiwork here.
As if she could read his thoughts, Willa replied, “The Betans don’t have a monopoly, Miles. And a good deal of seduction has more to do with answering mental needs than physical requirements. From what I’ve heard, Ivan has always been drawn to strong, attractive women capable of holding their own with any man. . .”
“So you, a man capable of holding his own with any woman. . .”
“Exactly,” Willa smiled. “And it’s been quite astonishing and lovely,” she added, “but I hadn’t anticipated this problem. None of my books mentioned thing one about uterine replicators.”
“What we do,” Ivan said suddenly, “is we tell Mama that you’re a mutant. That your genetic mess isn’t the kind that cleans up nicely. And that we’ll adopt.”
Willa stared at Ivan. Miles sat absolutely still.
Ivan met Willa’s stare. His voice was not quite level, but firm with resolve. “Mental trumps physical in the end, doesn’t it? Look at my cousin there – walking evidence of pain-in-the-assedness overriding pain. Look at us. The kids may not start out as Vorpatrils, but by the time you and I and my mother and Illyan finish raising them --“
He broke off as Willa reached for him. As they embraced, Miles watched them in silence, but with an uncontrollable grin spreading over his face.
Well, well, well, he thought to himself. Aunt Alys, you can send out those invitations after all.
Holding One's Own
“Ivan, you idiot,” Miles sighed. “Your mother is going to kill both of us.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Ivan protested. “This isn’t Beta!”
“And I’ve had several centuries’ worth of practice,” murmured the fabulous creature he’d known as “Willa.” “And the lighting was usefully poor when we first met.”
“So things would have progressed to this point even without the maple ambrosia, hm?” Miles leaned back in his chair, studying the man he’d viewed for two years as his cousin’s girlfriend. Long brown hair. Flawless makeup – the chin as smooth as that of his daughter. A pleasant face. An attractive alto voice. Modest cleavage – but definitely cleavage. This may not be Beta, Miles thought to himself, but I fancy I see some Betan handiwork here.
As if she could read his thoughts, Willa replied, “The Betans don’t have a monopoly, Miles. And a good deal of seduction has more to do with answering mental needs than physical requirements. From what I’ve heard, Ivan has always been drawn to strong, attractive women capable of holding their own with any man. . .”
“So you, a man capable of holding his own with any woman. . .”
“Exactly,” Willa smiled. “And it’s been quite astonishing and lovely,” she added, “but I hadn’t anticipated this problem. None of my books mentioned thing one about uterine replicators.”
“What we do,” Ivan said suddenly, “is we tell Mama that you’re a mutant. That your genetic mess isn’t the kind that cleans up nicely. And that we’ll adopt.”
Willa stared at Ivan. Miles sat absolutely still.
Ivan met Willa’s stare. His voice was not quite level, but firm with resolve. “Mental trumps physical in the end, doesn’t it? Look at my cousin there – walking evidence of pain-in-the-assedness overriding pain. Look at us. The kids may not start out as Vorpatrils, but by the time you and I and my mother and Illyan finish raising them --“
He broke off as Willa reached for him. As they embraced, Miles watched them in silence, but with an uncontrollable grin spreading over his face.
Well, well, well, he thought to himself. Aunt Alys, you can send out those invitations after all.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
2/7/04 13:30 (UTC)(no subject)
2/7/04 14:11 (UTC)