"Andrei! Come grab your child! He's running off without his underwear again!"

Huffing and puffing, heavily eight-month-pregnant me waddled my way slowly down the stairs after my two-year-old son, Pietr--named for Anderi's father, who was streaking through the housing, naked as the day he was born.

"Hy-aah!"

Andrei popped out of nowhere, and by nowhere I mean the kitchen and snatched the little bugger up like a sack of sugar.

The little Selkie boy wiggled against his father's hold. Andrei, however, was skilled in taming wild Selkie children and kept him from escaping.

I leaned against the bannister, out of breath.

"Moye serdtse, are you alright?" He asked, concerned. I waved him away,

"I'll be fine. These twins are kicking the snot out of me, though--Oo! They just got my bladder. Gimme a minute."

I waddle-ran my way to the bathroom, quick as a walrus. Back from my business, I returned to a finally swim-trunked feral two year old and his very, very handsome father.

Damn these pregnancy hormones.

Our happy, little honeymoon baby finally decent for human eyes to see--scratch that--any eyes to see, we packed up the car and drove to our beach. Yes, the one I almost drowned at. It held sentimental value, okay?

Andrei was teaching Pietr how to swim, and a rambunctious two-year-old got a bit of energy out. I'd have to say this was a win-win situation.

I laid my beach chair out on the narrow strip of sand available and settled myself, a picture of Frankie doing the same when she was nesting, herself, pulling a chuckle from me.

I looked out to the ocean, Andrei helping Pietr hold tight to the kickboard. Building up his leg and core muscles were his first priority, Andrei had told me, when I asked him one night after almost an entire day on the beach.

Aside from teaching Pietr how to swim, the two of them also straight up just messed around. Dipping their heads in the water, then throwing their long hair back to create funny hairstyles, or simply cupping water in their hands and running over to dump the remaining droplets over my head.

Today, though, it seemed like we had some visitors. A couple bigger harbor seal heads bobbed in the distance, and I called out to Andrei,

"Honey, we've got company!"

He looked over to me, then back over to where I was pointing. He waved one hand excitedly, then refocused on Pietr, who was tiring quickly.

Lifting the two-year-old to his side, he picked up the kickboard and used it to wave even bigger. "Mikhail! Alexei! Maxim! Prikhodite pozdorovat'sya s moyey sem'yey!"

He whispered something to Pietr, who called out in baby Russian,

"Zdravstvuyte, dyadi!"

Andrei had been teaching him Russian as well, which was all well and good, except those two would giggle about things in his native language behind my back. Pietr was a much faster learner than I was. Apparently, he was teaching Pietr Polish, Norwegian, and Celtic, too. Our baby boy was going to be a polyglot before I even learned my second language.

Fluidly merging from seal form to human, three very naked men emerged from the water.

Squealing, I covered my eyes with my book.

"Andrei, tell them to put something on!"

Laughing, Andrei murmured something in Russian to his friends, and they laughed in return. After a bit of water splashing, Andrei called,

"It's safe now, moye serdtse."

I rolled my eyes, but lowered the book from its defensive position. They'd wrapped their selkie skins around their waists.

It was something, at least.

"I swear, Pietr gets his crazy nudist ideas from your side of the family."

Sharp of hearing, and closer than I expected, Andrei let out a bark of laughter.

I greeted Andrei's family members, Mikhail and the rest familiar to me from many encounters at the diner and events at the klan's home by the seashore.

We got to talking, while Pietr--eyes drooping--climbed up onto my chair to curl up beside me, laying his blonde, curled head on my chest and resting an outstretched hand and foot over my protruding belly. A strong kick from one of his sisters had him startling awake.

"Mama, feel that?" He cried out, wide eyed and excited.

I winced, smiling through the discomfort.

"I sure did, bubba."

"Those girls will be strong selkies, I can tell," Mikhail noted, a proud note in his voice.

"If they're born with strong enough webbing, remember," I cautioned, rubbing my belly absentmindedly as Pietr curled back up against my side, unable to lay fully on top of me since about week fifteen of this pregnancy. Running my fingers through his curls, and feeling the sun beat down on me, I felt my eyes start to drift closed. Andrei said something in Russian to the three men, and their shadows disappeared soon after.

I felt a kiss brush against my forehead, then again against my cheek.

"Trying to cop a feel now that the audience is gone?" I mumbled drowsily.

Andrei chuckled, and sat down in the chair beside me.

"You are too beautiful, moye serdtse, I always want to 'cop a feel,' as you say."

I scoffed gently in my sleepy state.

"Well, you've gotta wait your turn, these girls are--" A strong kick interrupted me, and I let out a breath.

"Why do they gotta be more active when I'm trying to be less active?"

Andrei chuckled softer this time, and kissed me again, this time on the lips.

"Thank you, moye serdtse."

I blinked sleepily up at him.

"For what?"

"For my happiness."

I teared up a little.

Damn pregnancy hormones, at it again.

"No, thank you, Mr. Soft Coat."

He chuckled at the old nickname,

"For what?"

"For mine."

***

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope this has been as pleasant an experience for you as it has been for me! I will be editing this story after I've taken a longer break from it (distance makes mistakes and plot holes clearer). Keep your eyes out for any stories I may start publishing within the next few weeks; I've got quite a few ideas in the works, all of which are very different from A Selkie Story. Click the follow button if you'd like to be updated when I post a new story! Thanks again, my lovely readers!