Chapter Text
Silence except for the slide of stiletto against steel.
The back of his neck began to sweat. He'd been caught between the two before—it was how he'd gotten into this predicament in the first place—but it had never felt like a trap.
"Parenthood is little more than the product of collective imagination," Kurt said. He turned away from the little more in question, the infant in Rebecca's arms, to look at his only exit. Contessa was still blocking it, leaning against the door frame as she sharpened her knife.
She wore no expression.
He looked back at Rebecca, whose expression was distinctly unimpressed.
"Then again, being raised by two parents is ideal for human development. It makes members of our species able to participate in such shared delusions more effectively."
Everyone in the room, including his first- and hopefully last-born, stared at him.
He was babbling. He needed to contribute something substantive, or one or the other of them would do him an injury. So he squinted at the shapeless blob, trying to guess its sex based off of the dimensions of its skull. Fruitless. "We should call the child Taylor. An excellent name. Zero point two five percent of children born in the United States last year had the name Taylor. Common, but not overdone. Ideal."
"What would be ideal is for you to understand that I have two full-time jobs on different sides of the North American continent," Rebecca said. "You're raising her, Daddy-O."
