#so either? family history figured out? or insane jumps in logic. girl help.

[master-sass-blast]

It’s Truly Magical.

IT’S HONEYMOON TIME!!!

Summary: You and Piotr enjoy your honeymoon --by going to Disneyland, no less.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: T for implied sex, mention of needles, and briefly referenced childhood trauma but this fic is a fluff fest I promise.

Set after “In the Dawn of a New Day.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @nebulous-leo

“So let’s see… a week and a half is… uh…”

“Make list.”

You stare down at your suitcase as you try to do the math in your head. You’re trying to pack for yours and Piotr’s honeymoon.

Because the two of you are married now. You, Y/N Rasputin, managed to snatch up the world’s greatest catch for yourself.

Suck it, universe.

“That’s… ten-ish days, so ten outfits –except for the nice dinner, so that’s another outfit, oh, and the plane flights…”

“Just make list.”

The two of you are going to California, courtesy of your uncle; you two get to spend the first four days of the trip at Disneyland, and then the rest of your honeymoon will be spent at a little beach house AirBNB where the two of you can just chill and enjoy the ocean.

“So that’s like… twice as much underwear? Three times as much?” You blink when you remember that this is technically your honeymoon. “Do I even need underwear?”

“This might be easier if you made list, moya lyubov’.”

“And I’ll need… uh…”

“Darling wife of mine.”

You smile bashfully, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the reminder that you’re his wife now, and look over where Piotr’s sitting on your two’s bed.

He smiles at you, loving and endeared, and tosses a pen and notepad at you. “Just make packing list already.”

(You do, eventually, wind up making a list –though your husband does have to help you with the process.)

 ***

 The day of the flight brings its own boughs of anxiety and struggle. There’s the prospect of trying to navigate the airport properly and get through security –which promises to be a headache regardless of how much time you give yourselves—and then underlying tension that the two of you might get thrown out for being mutants—

But the unarguable worst part of the day happens before the two of you even leave home to head to the airport.

Piotr crosses his arms over his chest, face strained with worry as he stares down the small vial of yellow fluid in your hands. “I do not like this.”

You’re not cleared to fly on commercial flights –and technically won’t ever be, since the psychic scarring on your brain is permanent—without having your mutation repressed in some way, shape, or form. After an extended discussion between Hank, Professor Xavier, Alyssa, and your uncle, the four of them figured that you’d be unlikely to get a repression cuff or collar through airport security, which only left one option to keep your mutation repressed in the event –albeit unlikely—that you had an episode.

Repression serum.

The dose in the vial is only enough to get you safely to California –and you’ll have to use it all for it to work properly. Another vial will be provided before you and Piotr leave California to come back home. There’s no way for you to use it under any other circumstance or hoard it away for later, and Alyssa and Professor Xavier were both confident that you were well past the issues that led you to using it regularly that you wouldn’t be likely to relapse—

But yeah, you don’t like it either.

“It’s what we have to do, sweetheart,” you say, expression grim as you load up the syringe. “It’s for everyone else’s safety. And mine.”

“I know,” Piotr says, paling slightly as he watches you prepare the injection site on your arm. “I just… I really do not like this.”

“It’s going to be okay, honey,” you reassure him. “I’m going to be okay. I promise.”

There’s really not much else to say, considering what you have to do or your history with the repression serum, so you take a deep breath and insert the needle into your arm.

The serum hits as fast as you remember it hitting (since the dose was calibrated for your resistance to the stuff). Within about thirty seconds, you can feel your connection to the air around you being tamped down. It’s almost like someone’s put on a very thick jacket all over every inch of your body.

You grimace once you remove the needle and press a piece of gauze against the injection site. “I don’t like that.”

“Are you alright?” Piotr asks, panic evident in his voice and on his face as he kneels in front of you. “Do you feel sick? Do we need to see Hank?”

“No, no, I’m fine, I just don’t like how the serum feels,” you clarify. “I don’t like not feeling connected to the air. It doesn’t feel good.”

Piotr blinks as understanding flickers across his face, then he abruptly claps a hand over his mouth and stands, turning away from you in the process.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You quickly set the syringe and the now empty vial aside and stand, maneuvering so you’re positioned in front of your husband. “Piotr, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Piotr shakes his head as he wipes a few tears away from his eyes. “I was afraid… that you would like it. That you would miss using serum. And that you do not… it is big relief to me.”

Tears well up in your eyes as your heart tears for your mush of a man. You wrap your arms around Piotr’s waist and hold him while he takes deep, shaky breaths. “It’s okay, Piotr. I’m okay.”

And you are. You really, truly are.

 ***

 Getting through the airport is just about as much of a hassle as you anticipated. It’s confusing, it’s chaotic, there’s far too much standing in line involved, and the ratio of people to available outlets –logically—should’ve caused a bloodbath by now.

Fortunately, you and Piotr don’t get tossed out for being mutants (even though the two of you “pass” relatively well, you’re both legally required to register as mutants, which always opens up the risk of being thrown out of anywhere that checks your ID).

(Piotr also doesn’t set off the security checkpoint metal detector when he goes through it, which –while logically being a good thing—is honestly kind of disappointing.)

You opt to lean against your husband’s shoulder while the two of you wait to board, at which point you lament over having to wait even longer, to which Piotr remarks that the two of you will still get to board earlier than everyone else because you’re flying in first class, which prompts you to pull out your boarding pass and study it—

“We’re flying first class?”

Piotr chuckles as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. “You just realized this?”

“You’re the one who checked all the tickets and reservations, not me!”

The ticket does, in fact, confirm that the two of you have first class seats reserved –next to each other, too, which is a bonus.

“Why’d my uncle get us first class seats?” you ponder quietly. “It’s so expensive.”

“Probably my size,” Piotr reasons. “I have trouble fitting in smaller seats.”

You shrug, then smile up at your spouse. “Well, we can at least have fun with flying first class for the first time!”

“That we can,” he agrees before dipping his head to kiss you.

 ***

 As it is, Piotr still barely fits into the first class seat. It’s clearly better suited to accommodate him than an economy seat –but only barely.

Fortunately, you don’t need the dividing armrest down to be comfortable, and you’re more than happy to be closely snuggled against your hubby for several hours. You take the window seat so Piotr has an easier time getting in and out of your seat and nestle up against him while he scans the in-flight safety pamphlet.

“You two are absolutely adorable,” one of the flight attendants comments with a smile. “We don’t see a lot of super lovey couples on the flights.”

“I think it helps that we’re flying out for our honeymoon,” you joke; at home, it’s a well known fact that you and Piotr are a pair of regular lovebirds –though, the added buzz from the wedding and honeymoon doesn’t hurt.

The flight attendant beams when you show off your engagement ring and wedding band. “Congratulations! That’s so wonderful! We do offer complimentary beverages and snacks to our first class passengers. Maybe some sparkling wine to celebrate, or a cookie and some milk if you’re not alcohol drinkers?”

You look up at Piotr. “Cookies and milk?”

He smiles down at you, then nods at the flight attendant. “Cookies and milk would be nice.”

 ***

 Fun fact: A non-stop flight from New York to California is a little over six hours.

Additional fun fact: years of being able to fly one’s self makes travelling by plane a touch lackluster.

“We’re not even breaking the sound barrier,” you whisper to Piotr at one point. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He merely snorts and kisses the top of your head.

All in all, though, it’s a good time. The two of you snuggle against each other as the plane soars through the skies, Piotr fills you in on all things Disney, and you play games provided on the little screen interfaces on the backs of the seats in front of you.

You’re also provided a proper meal a couple hours into the flight –and, much to Piotr’s delight, it’s reasonably healthy, if not necessarily portioned out for someone of his size.

“The perks of flying first class, I guess,” you comment before starting in on your food.

 ***

 Actually arriving in California, admittedly, is a bit of a mindfuck, solely due to the time difference between the East Coast and the West Coast.

“None of this feels right,” you mumble as you try to reconcile the earlier time to your inner body clock.

“Imagine how I felt first coming from Russia,” Piotr comments as he scans the directional signs to figure out where the two of you need to pick up your luggage.

“Shit, yeah, that’d be insane.” You frown. “How does your family manage to jump between here and there, then?”

Piotr shrugs. “Lots of coffee, probably.”

 ***

 The process of getting to the famed park is far less drawn out than the flight. Once you two have your luggage, you head over to the car rental place and pick up your car –rented so the two of you have a reliable way to get around for the rest of your honeymoon—and take the half hour drive to the park.

You give Piotr a goofy smile when another motorist curses you out for abiding by the traffic laws. “It’s like we never left home.”

Piotr just tips his head back and laughs.

 ***

 To make everything extra special, your hotel reservation is at one of the hotels in the park itself –very appropriately named “Disneyland Hotel.” The two of you get checked in and head up to your room—

And it’s nice. There’s a massive king-sized bed that sits directly across from a combination dresser and TV cabinet. A desk and chair sit next to the dresser-cabinet combo, and a cushy looking armchair sits next to the bed on the far side of the room. Everything’s decorated in warm, inviting tones of brown and gold, save for a genuinely pretty blue and gold carpet. On the other side of the bed, closest to the door, is another door that leads to a bathroom.

It’s nice. Clean. It has amenities like a mini-fridge and a coffee maker and an ironing board.

It’s also like almost any other hotel you’ve ever been in.

Piotr shrugs when you remark as much. “Were you expecting something else?”

“I don’t know… mouse ears everywhere? Super bright colors and patterns?”

Piotr chuckles as he sets yours and his suitcases down. “The crucial experience is park. Rooms are supposed to promote rest and relaxation.”

“Fair enough.” You dart over to the window on the far side of the room to check out the view, then chuckle when all you can see is the parking lot. “Oh, damn, can’t get this view anywhere else.” You whip out your phone to take a Snapchat video of the view, then tuck it back in your pocket and turn around when you hear Piotr groan and the bed creak ominously.

He’s dropped face-down into the bed, arms spread out like a starfish and legs hanging haphazardly off the bed.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Feeling comfy, baby?”

“Planes do not agree with me,” he laments, voice muffled by the bed.

“I bet.” You cross over to the bed and hop up next to him. “How about this,” you suggest as you gently rub his back. “We just get some room service –because I’m hungry—and then just stretch out and rest. We’ve got four days here at the park; that’s plenty of time to check everything out.”

“Sounds wonderful.” He lifts his head and grins at you. “We are at Disneyland.”

“Yeah, we are,” you reply with a grin of your own. “Are you excited?”

He giggles and nods before dropping his head back down. “Very.”

You gently run your fingers through his hair and kiss the top of his head before turning and rummaging through the nightstand drawer for a room service menu. “You get comfortable, babe. I’ll get us some food.”

 ***

 The two of you eat and take a little nap before unpacking. Since you aren’t staying the entire duration of your trip at the park, you only unpack what you need –a few clothes, some toiletries, a couple of things to do during down time…

And, in your husband’s case, an entire pantry’s worth of healthy snacks and protein bars.

You gape as Piotr carefully tucks away a supply of unsalted veggie chips, mixes of dried fruit and nuts, crackers with “extra fiber” (whatever the fuck that means), and a couple boxes of protein bars into one of the dresser drawers. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Piotr! We are on vacation!”

“We still need to eat!” he retorts defensively.

“They have restaurants and room service here!” you argue, trying to hold back amused laughter. “And we can always buy food if we need something they don’t have!”

“It is still less expensive this way,” he reasons.

“The park expenses are on someone else’s tab, and we’ll still have to get groceries for the rest of our trip.”

The gears in Piotr’s head visibly turn while he processes your statement. He huffs –and shoots you an amused glare when you giggle—and continues unpacking his snacks. “Just wait until end of trip, when you are sick from travel food and I am not. You will eat words then.”

“The only thing I want to eat is your dick,” you fire back, snickering when the tips of Piotr’s ears go red. You pick up one of the boxes out of the dresser drawer and read the label. “‘Multi-grain Nutritional Crackers, now with Extra Fiber.’ Honestly, you are such an old man.”

Piotr shakes his head, takes the box from you and puts it back in the drawer, then lifts you up into his arms. “Not old just yet.”

You giggle and press your lips against his.

 *** 

 The following morning hosts massive bouts of excitement –Piotr—and general disgust at the existence of mornings in general –you.

Your mood does perk up, though, upon having some proper breakfasts in one of the restaurants in the hotel –accompanied by coffee and some of the park’s legendary Dole whip, no less. By the time the two of you head into the “attractions” part of the park, you’re just as pepped up as your Disney-loving hubby.

The two of you wander around a bit, getting a sense for the park and where everything is, until—

“Babe!” You point at the Alice in Wonderland spinning teacups ride. “Let’s go on that one!”

Piotr acquiesces, and the two of you get in line for the ride. It takes a fair bit of standing and waiting, but eventually the two of you are ushered onto one of the massive teacups. You both get settled, then wait for the ride to start.

“What’s this for?” you ask, tapping a stand in the middle with what looks like a steering wheel attached to the top.

“To spin ride,” Piotr explains. “It makes cup spin faster.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at the device. “I thought the ride just spun the cups on its own.”

“It does.” Piotr gestures to the frame the cups sit on. “Entire ride spins like merry-go-round. Riders can spin cups while ride spins.”

You grin, borderline maniacally. “Fuck. Yeah.”

Once the ride starts, you immediately start trying to spin the cup as fast as you can. Under any other circumstances, you suspect the cup would spin without too much resistance.

However, those circumstances don’t involve having the world’s heaviest Russian husband in the cup at the same time.

You grunt as you try to spin the cup. “Dammit! Why do you have to be so heavy?”

“It is not end of world, msyhka,” Piotr chuckles. “Just sit back and enjoy ride.”

“I want to go fast! But I can’t do that because I just happened to shack up with the one Russian juggernaut that eats lead for breakfast!”

Piotr laughs again –then grips the wheel and gives it a mighty yank.

You shriek, delighted, as the cup whips around at maximum speed. The world dissolves into a blur of color and noise as your hair whips around and smacks your face.

It’s like flying without the physical effort of flying. It’s amazing.

“That was awesome!” you giggle as you stumble off the ride. “We should go –babe?”

Piotr staggers after you, looking considerably worse for wear. He’s gone pale –paler than usual, at least—and clammy looking, and his jaw is clenched tight. “I think,” he manages in a weak, shaky voice, “that was mistake.”

You put your hands on his arms, helping steady him. “Holy shit, baby, you look awful. Come on, let’s get back to the hotel room so you can lay down.”

“Perhaps that would be for best,” Piotr agrees as you steer him in the direction of the hotel.

 ***

 “No fucking way. The Steel Boy Scout can’t handle rollercoasters. That’s incredible!”

“I mean, in his defense, it was a spin heavy ride,” you say to Wade as you stroke Piotr’s hair.

The two of you are back in your hotel room; Piotr had opted to lay face down on the bed and bury his face in a pillow, while you’d opted to call Wade and update him on how the vacation was going –or, rather, wasn’t.

“Yeah, well, still,” Wade insists in your ear. “It’s funny. He’s a superhero who battles diabolical villains on a regular basis, and he can’t handle spinning around a little.”

“I mean, you make a valid point—”

The bed lurches as Piotr shoots off it and sprints to the bathroom.

“Ah, shit. I’ve gotta go.”

“Has Chernobyl finally decided to blow?”

You wince as the sounds of Piotr emptying his stomach contents into the toilet emanate from the bathroom. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

 ***

 You spend the rest of the day in the hotel room to let Piotr properly recuperate. You order room service for the two of you once Piotr’s feeling well enough to eat, and otherwise spend the day texting, scrolling through social media, or watching TV while you hold your husband and stroke his hair.

All in all, it’s a day perfectly spent.

And, fortunately, Piotr’s feeling well enough by the time the day comes to a close that the two of you can catch one of the park’s famed fireworks shows. Granted, you have to stand off to the side so Piotr doesn’t block anyone’s view, but it’s still a stunning spectacle to behold.

(It also gives Wade’s fireworks “demonstrations” a run for their money, which isn’t something you’d ever thought could be possible.)

“Are you feeling better, honey?” you ask as the two of you stroll back to the hotel, hand in hand.

“Much.” Piotr squeezes your hand gently. “Tomorrow should go much better.”

“Here’s hoping. No more spinning rides for you, mister.”

Piotr chuckles and shakes his head. “On that, we are agreed.”

 ***

 The following morning, Piotr’s in a much better state than the previous day. After a hearty breakfast at the hotel, the two of you head back into the attractions part of the park and scope out more rides to try out –with a strict emphasis on “non-spinning” for your husband’s sake.

Eventually, the two of you come across a ride called “Big Thunder” that seems promising. The two of you hop in line to get on the ride—

Except upon finally being able to get on said ride, it turns out that Piotr’s too big for the safety mechanisms to work properly.

You burst out cackling as Piotr sheepishly extricates himself from his seat and steps back onto the platform. “We can’t win with you, huh, baby?”

“It would see not.” He kisses you gently. “I’ll see you back at walkway.”

You smile at him and blow him another kiss as he heads towards the exit.

Then, an attendant comes by to check your harness and the harnesses of the other rides. There’s the sound of the motors that run the coaster coming to life and hissing –and then the ride shoots forward.

And you scream.

 ***

 “It was awesome!” you gush to Piotr once you find him outside the ride. “It’s like flying, but I get to sit down the entire time. It’s basically perfect! Although, I think we’re gonna have to skip rides while we’re here. You’re not gonna fit on… any of them, really.”

Piotr chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “You can still go on rides, myshka. This is your trip, also. And there are calmer rides and other attractions I can enjoy.”

“Alright.” You take a moment to check a map of the park that Piotr downloaded and sent to your phone. “Do you want to go find a ride we can both go on?”

“That sounds very nice.”

You smile and take his hand in yours, then the two of you head off in search of a ride that both of you can go on.

 ***

 The two of you wind up going on Astro Blasters –even though neither of you are very good at hitting any of the targets—and going on the famed Pirates of the Caribbean ride together, and you also hit Splash Mountain and the Indiana Jones rides on your own.

(Piotr pays to get pictures of you riding the rides on your own and gets a good chuckle out of your open-mouthed, exhilarated expressions.)

You also take time just to wander around the park and take everything in. You two take a selfie in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle, spy the Mickey Mouse costume character strolling around and saying hi to kids, and generally take in the sights and sounds of the park –of which there are many.

Just like the advertising says, it’s genuinely magical.

 ***

 “Are you enjoying Disneyland?”

Piotr grins as he wipes his fingers on a napkin. “Da. I really am. Are you?”

You grin back and lean over to kiss his shoulder. “Yeah. It’s pretty awesome.”

The two of you had opted to stop for lunch after a bit, with Piotr citing that getting overtired or going too long without eating in the baking California heat would wind up doing either of you in. You’d decided to get a corndog and a soda, whereas Piotr had purchased one of the famed turkey legs and a bottle of water.

(The picture you’d taken of Piotr biting into his turkey leg was nothing short of priceless.)

“I want to get something to remember trip by,” Piotr continues as he polishes off his turkey leg (which had taken him the same time to eat as it had for you to devour your corndog). “Proper memento.”

“Well, Mikhail did give us that jar of money after the reception,” you point out. “You want to use that to get a little honeymoon treat? Maybe some matching mouse ear headbands?”

Piotr beams and nods. “That sounds wonderful.”

 ***

 The two of you resume wandering around the park after eating lunch. You briefly stop to watch a parade of characters and decorated vehicles go by, then resume the hunt for some proper mementos to commemorate your honeymoon at the park.

Which, actually, is easier said than done. The park has several shops scattered throughout it and different kiosks by rides that host specially themed mouse-eared headbands. Trying to compare all the options available, let alone narrow things down to a top pick, is almost too tall a task to handle.

(Not to mention that the headbands themselves are egregiously expensive. Holy shit.)

Eventually, though, you settle on a sequined Minnie Mouse ears headband –complete with a sequined red bow with white polka dots—while Piotr opts for a classic –sequins free—Mickey Mouse ears headband.

“I think we look pretty good!” you declare as you post one of the selfies you took of you and Piotr to Instagram.

Piotr brushes a soft kiss against your temple. “I agree –but you look best.”

You sputter and duck your head bashfully. “You’re awfully sweet, Mr. Rasputin.”

“Says person eating cotton candy.”

“Not my fault it’s good.” You split your last bite in half and offer part of it to him –then gape when he actually accepts it. “What’s this? You actually ate cotton candy!”

Piotr rolls his eyes good naturedly –though he does pull a face at how sweet the candy is. “Is my vacation. I eat treats if I want.”

You grin and giggle, then yank on his hand and head in the direction of another vendor stand. “Ooh, come on! I need to get a pretzel!”

“You just finished cotton candy.”

“Yeah, but—” you glance around and lower your voice carefully “—I need to get a Snapchat of it so I can send Wade a snap about being a ‘childless whore fucking up the pretzel line.’”

Piotr’s eyes widen and he claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a massive snort. “What?”

“Baby, please?”

He shakes his head, but ultimately acquiesces. “Lead way, myshka.”

 ***

 You wake up on the third day of your trip with sore legs and feet, a barely there stomach ache from eating too much cotton candy the day previous, and an erection pressed against your ass.

You grin when Piotr’s lips start pressing against your neck. “Morning, sweetheart. Feeling good?”

“Chrezvychayno.”

You sigh, content, when his hand latches onto your hip and his other arm presses against your chest, pulling you flush against him. “Y’know… we’ve pretty much done everything we can do in the park. We could just…” You swing one of your arms back so you can slide your hand down his side. “Stay in bed today. Order room service. Do what all honeymooners do.”

“That,” Piotr murmurs huskily, lustily. “Sounds perfect.”

 ***

 You two spend the last day of the Disney part of your trip largely lazing around. You stroll through the park to get more pictures and check out a few more rides, but other than that you two simply enjoy each other’s company until the time for your dinner reservation at the renowned Blue Bayou restaurant comes. The two of you take a few hours to get cleaned and dressed up for the dinner –a cocktail dress with blue and purple flowers for you and a suit with a blue and purple tie for him—and head over to the Blue Bayou restaurant.

The space itself is nothing short of breathtaking. There’s trees along the edge of the outdoor dining area, and lanterns and flowers are strung across the space to give it a soft, ethereal feel.

You two are seated in a quiet corner of the dining area at a sleek black table bordered by chairs with elegant backs that look like wrought iron; the waiter hands you two your menus and takes your drink orders—

And then it’s just you and Piotr.

You glance up from perusing your menu and smile at your husband. “Anything in particular looking good?”

He “hmms” thoughtfully. “Possibly lamb… or roasted chicken.”

“They both look good,” you agree. You nudge his leg under the table, then grin at him when he looks up at you. “Love you.”

Piotr beams at you. “I love you, too.”

The waiter returns a couple minutes later with your drinks, jots down your orders, then takes your menus and whisks away once more.

Piotr reaches across the table –careful not to knock into either of your glasses or the candle at the center of the table—and takes one of your hands in his. “So. We are married.”

You grin. “Hell yeah we are.”

He smiles back, then gazes thoughtfully at the engagement ring and wedding band on your left hand while rubbing circles against the back of your hand with his thumb. “What comes next?”

You let out a huff. “I mean… we have a house to furnish.”

“That we do,” Piotr chuckles. “But I meant more for us. What do you want us to do next, as couple?”

You glance around surreptitiously, then quietly suggest, “Have lots of sex?”

Piotr snorts. “Duly noted, myshka. Answer question seriously, please.”

You sit back in your seat, taking a moment to enjoy the way his thumb rubs against your hand before mulling over the question. “I don’t know. Right now, I’m kinda just content to enjoy the moment and our new life together.”

Piotr nods after a moment. “Okay. And… in future?”

“Kids, eventually,” you say, flashing a demure smile at him. “I mean, I think we should get the house furnished and functional first, but… maybe in the next year or two.”

Piotr smiles at that, eyes sparkling and face glowing. “Alright. It is your body; you set all rules.”

“I think in a year or two we can start trying,” you reiterate. “But, right now, I’m just looking to enjoy us. You.”

His smile softens, and he squeezes your hand gently. “That sounds very nice.”

You smile back, slowly getting lost in the depths of his sparkling blue eyes—

It really is magical.