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After dinner at Maria’s, the others were headed out to celebrate, which meant hitting every bar, pub, tavern, and saloon from the boarding house to the train station and back again until Gilroy was falling down, Güntar and Eamonn were necking in the street, Carlos started singing, and Simon fell in love with every creature—or sign post—that came across his path. Ordinarily, Rorik was more than happy to join them. But tonight… Tonight he begged off for another time.
They only tried to convince him once, then Iggie stepped in with a bet against Gilroy that she could drink him under the table, and the night was on! She gave Rorik a wink as she crowed out the door with the rest, demanding that if they were going to be drinking the Irishman’s tar and the German’s swill water, the least they could do was swing past her farm for some of Rakesha’s moonshine.
That left the big Scandinavian alone on Maria’s porch. He gave the rapidly disappearing crew a smile, and made his way to the boarding house. Closing the door quietly behind him, he blinked several times to adjust to the gaslight lit room. “Mitka?”
The owner of the boarding house closed his book carefully as he stood to receive his guest. “Good evening, Rorik. How was your day today?”
Rorik rubbed the back of his neck, blinking more as his eyes finished adjusting. “It went well, Mitka. And yours?”
Dressed in a house robe, Mitika smiled and placed a hand on his belly. “We are fine, agapimeni. You could have gone with the others. I know how you all get when you first get into town.”
Rorik shook his head gently and came further into the room, hanging his coat by the door so he could take his lover in his arms and let his hands join the slimmer ones in caressing that softening belly. “I know I could have. I would rather spend my free evenings with you both.”
“You Vikings and your big soft hearts.” Giving a small tilt of his head, the nonbinary man let out a playful sigh. “You’re going to disrupt my reading for the night aren’t you?”
He chuckled. “I do not have to. If we curl up side by side, I can be very happy petting your hair while you read,” he offered, still absently petting his stomach.
He’d become much more prone to petting Mitika in the past weeks, not like he was a pet, but more like he was something so precious Rorik simply couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He needed to touch his Mitka and see he was real.
“That’s alright, I was having trouble concentrating anyway. Angelaki has been distracting me all night. I think she wants her patera home, safe and sound. I know I do.” Mitika leaned in to the petting, enjoying the touch.
Rorik nuzzled into his beloved’s hair and sighed happily. “I have missed her too,” he said softly, gently drawing his love over to the couch to curl up as he’d described. “I am glad to see you are still well.”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” Leaning back into the cushions with his beloved curled up next to him, Mitika could more easily see how much further along their little one was, and he blushed lightly. “We’d have wired you if something was wrong. Maria says that we have passed the worst part, now we just have to wait until Angelaki decides to show up.”
Rorik’s broad shoulders shrugged. “I have no reason to think anything terrible would happen to you, my Mitka, but when a man works a dangerous job he is a little more aware of how easily a life can be snuffed out. Bad air does not always occur only in the depths of a mine. But you are safe. And so am I, so let us forget our worries and be joyous.”
“Yes. Have you thought of names, my Viking?” Mitika snickered, knowing he hadn’t.
He shook his head sheepishly. “I am sorry Mitka, no. There are so many wonderful names to choose from! It will be hard to pick just the right one.”
“Then perhaps we should follow Eyota’s tradition in this matter?”
“Select five? Or choose a few and let her discover the personal, special ones?” The big Norwegian perked, liking the sound of that.
“We will call her Angelaki until she is old enough to discover a name of her own.” Mitika nodded, placing both of Rorik’s hands on the swell of their child under his own. “And she will be loved by so many.”
The Greecian man smiled up at his beloved, curtained in the shower of red-gold braids that marked Rorik as a married man. The answering smile was all he needed to know Rorik agreed, and to seal the deal; a kiss. Short and sweet, as they had on the day they had braided their hair together.