The little AU: Winter Hopes: Night
The little AU: Winter Hopes: Night
slashfairy
~~
It's only a night, and a short one at that. But eventually Viggo comes home, still high from the evening's celebrations, wrapped in his flag and the wisdom of Cate, and Karl looks at him carefully, looking for things he hopes not to see.
But it's only a bit of fatigue, some sense of the ringing in Viggo's ears from all the conversation, all the music and the lights and activity, that makes itself felt in Karl's skin as he gathers up the clothes dropped Viggo's on the way to the bathroom and drapes them all over the armchair in the bedroom. It's not depression, or cynicism, or anger, or frustration- just a good healthy tiredness, relief that the "season" is over, and happiness to be at home.
In the shower he washes Viggo's back, the crack about the annual bath notwithstanding; taking care over the slimness of his torso, every rib and every space between it so vulnerable. Viggo talks about the evening in fits and starts, telling about Cate and the soccer flag, about short conversations had with other actors, with directors and writers, but it's mostly just letting all the sparkle and glitter wash off him until he is his own more plain-spun self, and by the time Karl helps him towel off the silence between them fills the room with comfort and ease.
In the morning Viggo will need to leave early- filming's got to continue, and his flight's already booked. He'll sip his mate and sleep on the plane if he can, read if he can't sleep, remember the futbol flag draped over Cate and her baby and smile to himself.
Tonight, it's Karl who brings something hot for them to drink before going to sleep, Karl who holds him in the night when the restlessness of his mind breaks through and tries to wake him. Karl who will have hot water ready in the morning for mate, and drive him to the airport, and wave goodbye as he goes back to the road he's set himself to travel. It's Karl who whispers into his wild, greying hair as he sleeps, I love you, I love you. It's Karl who celebrates the night.
previously: Yearning
next: Carry it on
slashfairy
~~
It's only a night, and a short one at that. But eventually Viggo comes home, still high from the evening's celebrations, wrapped in his flag and the wisdom of Cate, and Karl looks at him carefully, looking for things he hopes not to see.
But it's only a bit of fatigue, some sense of the ringing in Viggo's ears from all the conversation, all the music and the lights and activity, that makes itself felt in Karl's skin as he gathers up the clothes dropped Viggo's on the way to the bathroom and drapes them all over the armchair in the bedroom. It's not depression, or cynicism, or anger, or frustration- just a good healthy tiredness, relief that the "season" is over, and happiness to be at home.
In the shower he washes Viggo's back, the crack about the annual bath notwithstanding; taking care over the slimness of his torso, every rib and every space between it so vulnerable. Viggo talks about the evening in fits and starts, telling about Cate and the soccer flag, about short conversations had with other actors, with directors and writers, but it's mostly just letting all the sparkle and glitter wash off him until he is his own more plain-spun self, and by the time Karl helps him towel off the silence between them fills the room with comfort and ease.
In the morning Viggo will need to leave early- filming's got to continue, and his flight's already booked. He'll sip his mate and sleep on the plane if he can, read if he can't sleep, remember the futbol flag draped over Cate and her baby and smile to himself.
Tonight, it's Karl who brings something hot for them to drink before going to sleep, Karl who holds him in the night when the restlessness of his mind breaks through and tries to wake him. Karl who will have hot water ready in the morning for mate, and drive him to the airport, and wave goodbye as he goes back to the road he's set himself to travel. It's Karl who whispers into his wild, greying hair as he sleeps, I love you, I love you. It's Karl who celebrates the night.
previously: Yearning
next: Carry it on