Sharks and Minnows

It’s been a few weeks, and Ilya has been nothing but supportive. I’ve coerced Noemi into moving into my apartment with me, but she still keeps her own apartment under lease, “just in case” she says.

“Hey Vlad, can you get the peanut butter for me?” Noemi calls from the kitchen. I blush, still getting used to the nickname she’s come up with for me.

“Yeah, be in in a second Nemo,” I reply, opting to use the nickname given to her by her friends. I walk into the kitchen, and she’s stretching upwards, desperately trying to reach the peanut butter, but she can’t reach, and her little black and red Devils tee-shirt is rising up ever so slightly, revealing her still flat stomach. I walk up behind her and place one hand on the small of her back before grabbing the peanut butter off of the third shelf in the cabinet and handing it to her. She kisses my cheek and I smile at her. We’re getting along really well, but that isn’t to say we haven’t had our fights. She’s hormonal as all hell, and I’ve spent quite a few nights on the couch.

“Vlad, do my boobs look bigger to you?” Noemi asks, putting down the peanut butter and turning around. I raise my eyebrows and look at her chest. Holy shit.

“Uh…yeah, a lot bigger actually. Is that normal?” I ask, noticing how her breasts are pulling at her shirt in the middle.

“I guess so. I mean, the book says it’s normal,” Noemi shrugs before returning to finish making her sandwich. I shake my head. “The book” has become almost like Noemi’s Bible, and she reads it every night. The doctors have figured out that she’s about 9 weeks along now, and so she’s still in the first trimester. We decided it would be best to keep things about her pregnancy under wraps until she’s in the clear, but she knows that Ilya knows.

“So, when do we find out if the babies are boys or girls?” I ask, flopping onto the couch. Noemi walks in and nudges my feet off of the couch before curling up in the corner of the couch and biting into her sandwich.

“Uh…fithteen weeks,” Noemi says through a mouthful of sandwich. I shake my head at her and smile. She eats almost more than me now, but she’s eating for four people, and I’m eating for one.

“That’s over six weeks from now!” I groan, and she laughs.

“You’re more excited than I am,” she smiles.

“I just want to know my sperm is manly,” I smile back, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, definitely manly,” she mutters before taking another bite of her sandwich. I nudge her gently, and she chuckles before nudging me back. For a while, it’s been just playful flirting. I don’t mind; it’s nice getting to know her. I thank my lucky stars that I got a girl like her pregnant, and not some psychotic bitch woman. She lets out a burp, and we both stare at each other for a second before cracking up.

“I give it a four out of ten,” I say, and she feigns offense.

“A four? That was at least a six Vladimir Zharkov!” she says, and I roll my eyes. Just then my phone rings, and I pull it out of my pocket.

“Eĭ Ilʹya,”(hey Ilya) I say in Russian, and Noemi raises her eyebrows before leaning against my chest. She munches on her sandwich happily while I begin to toy with her hair.

“Vladimir, chto ty delaeshʹ pryamo syeĭchas(Vladimir, what are you doing right now)?” Ilya asks, and I glance at Noemi.

“Prosto gulyatʹ s Noemi (Just hanging out with Noemi),” I say, and Noemi perks up at the sound of her name.

“Noemi ? Razve etodevushka? (Noemi? Is that the girl?)” he asks.

“Da, onadevushka. V chem delo? (Yeah, she’s the girl. What’s up?)” I ask.

“YA hochu priehatʹ i vstretitʹsya s nyeĭ. Razve eto horosho? (I want to come over and meet her. Is that okay?)” Ilya asks. I bite my lip and then cover up the phone with my hand.

“Can Ilya come over and meet you?” I ask her, and Noemi stares at me for a bit.

“Sure…” she says after a few seconds, and then stands up.

“Da, priehatʹ (Yeah, come over),” I say, and then Ilya hangs up. Noemi has disappeared into the bathroom, and I knock on the door.

“Can I come in?” I ask, and the doorknob turns before she opens the door.

“Yeah, I just want to do something with my hair and makeup so I don’t look like crap when I meet your friends,” Noemi smiles, and I shake my head before walking in and sitting on the sink. The bathroom is pretty large. It has two granite sinks, with a big shower/bathtub, and a toilet of course. Noemi has claimed half of the sink countertop as her own, and I don’t really mind. I watch almost in awe as she curls her hair quickly, and puts on foundation, eyeliner, mascara, and light brown eye shadow. We don’t really talk as she does it all, but I don’t mind because I find it interesting how women know what to put where. I can get dressed for a hockey game in record time, but if I had to put on makeup (which I hope I never do), I would be lost.

“You’re staring at me,” Noemi says as she brushes on a little bit more mascara.

“Yeah, well…it’s weird,” I say.

“What’s weird? You staring at me?” she asks with a chuckle.

“No, makeup. I don’t ever get to watch, so this new experience for me,” I explain, and she lets out a laugh.

“You’re adorable,” she smiles, kissing my cheek before putting all of her stuff away. I feel a blush creep into my cheeks, and I shake my head.

“Men are not adorable,” I say, and Noemi rolls her eyes.

“Okay, sorry. You’re funny,” she sighs, walking into our bedroom. She pulls off her shirt, and I can’t help but appreciate how gorgeous her half naked body is as she tugs open the drawers on her side of the bureau and searches for a shirt.

“What was wrong with your other shirt?” I ask, and she smirks before pulling on another shirt. I see the number 17 written in huge white and red numbers on her back, and I groan.

“You have his shirt?” I ask, and she chuckles once more.

“Yeah, I’m a big Kovalchuk fan,” she smirks before straightening out the snug black tee and smacking my ass as she walks by. I grab her by her hips and pull her back towards me, planting my lips firmly on the crook of her neck. I smirk as I feel her legs go weak, but she pulls away from me slightly.

“We can’t…not when we have people coming over,” she sighs, and I pout, but nod in agreement.

“Later?” I ask, and she nods. I pump my fist happily and she laughs loudly before kissing me and walking into the kitchen once more.

Ilya knocks on the door about 15 minutes later, and I answer it quickly. He smiles broadly and hugs me tightly before walking into the apartment. Noemi walks out of the kitchen, where she’s been making another masterpiece she calls a meal for Ilya, as well as the two of us.

“So you must be Noemi,” Ilya says, holding out his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Kovalchuk,” Noemi smiles, and Ilya chuckles.

“Please call me Ilya. I like for friends to call me Ilya,” Ilya says, his face still cracked into a broad smile.

“Alright then Ilya; I hope you like chicken ceasar salad. I know that Vladimir and I haven’t eaten yet, so I made enough for the three of us,” she smiles, and Ilya laughs.

“Vy uvereny, vybralpobeditelya Vladimir (you’ve sure picked a winner Vladimir),” Ilya smiles, and I nod.

“What did he say?” Noemi asks curiously as she turns to get the food from the kitchen. Ilya notices her tee-shirt, and begins to laugh once again.

“I said he picked a winner, and I was right. Nice shirt by the way,” Ilya smiles, and I roll my eyes.

“Napomnitʹ , chtoby szhechʹ yego pozzhe (remind me to burn it later),” I grumble, and that causes Ilya to laugh even harder.

Lunch with Ilya goes well, and Ilya gawps at the fact that we’re having not one, but three kids. He insists that we have a baby shower, and even volunteers his wife to help us plan it. I play as translator for most of the conversation because Ilya and I prefer to speak Russian together, and Noemi doesn’t understand a word of it. After a few hours, Ilya returns home and Noemi romps into the bedroom. Remembering her promise, I follow her and grab her by the hips once more.

“So…about that offer you made earlier,” I growl seductively into her ear. She chuckles and runs a hand against my cheek.

“Convince me,” she smirks, and I immediately go for the neck.

Noemi snuggles against my chest, and I relish at the feel of our skin touching. She traces her finger against my bare chest idly, and I toy with her hair. We’re both quiet for a long time, and it’s peaceful. I rest my hand against her hip, and she kisses my jaw before sighing contentedly. As much as I’d hate to admit it, I enjoy cuddling after sex almost as much as the sex, but in a different way. Noemi is soft and warm, and the comfortable silence between us is something I’ve never had before.

“Hey Vladimir,” she says quietly after a long time.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Will you teach me Russian?” she asks. I look at her in surprise, and then smile broadly.

“You want to learn?” I ask.

“Of course I want to learn. Besides, if our kids are going to speak it, I should too,” she smiles.

“You want our kids to learn too?!” I ask, happiness welling in my chest.

“Definitely. It’s valuable to know multiple languages, and besides, Russian is sexy,” Noemi murmurs. I can see her eyelids growing heavy, so I kiss her forehead and hug her tightly.

“Well then all four of you will learn Russian,” I smile, and Noemi kisses my cheek before drifting off to sleep.