Work Text:
"No, Lord Aral," Petya repeats sternly. The twins giggle louder.
Petya picks up the twins one by one, again, and takes them off of his formal uniform. "Young lady," he says to Helen, because if no one tells her, they can't expect her to know, and when did Petya turn into his grandfather exactly? He points to the jam stain she's left on his sleeve. "Vorkosigan House uniforms are not napkins."
Helen shakes her head furiously and keeps giggling.
And to think that Petya had thought Miles had been a handful at that age. There'd only been one of him.