The little AU: Winter Lights: Float, ground, rise
The little AU: Winter Lights: Float, ground, rise
slashfairy
~~
Orlando stretches out, just like he used to, back of his head resting on the edge, toes reaching for the opposite side of the big tub.
- How old's Flynn now? Karl asks.
- Getting old too fast, Orlando says, wrapping one arm around himself trying to stretch away a knot.
- Right. Karl nods. Hunter's going to be taller than he'd expected- it'll be changes and changes and changes, but not like it is with Flynn for Orlando right now.
Viggo takes one of Orlando's feet in his hands, starts kneading the sole. Pressure firm enough to calm, not to tickle but to ground.
- Saw the pictures of you in Paris with him. You're doing it right, Orlando- you're playing dinosaurs with him. Viggo's thumb smooths a particularly callused spot and Orlando sighs deeply.
-Here, let me, Karl says, lifting Orlando's head and sliding in under. Orlando's not quite tall enough to reach from side to side of the big tub, but he can rest comfortably with one of them to hold up each end, and his back relaxes for what seems like the first time in a year, since Miranda first told him he was going to be a father.
He gives himself over to the water, noticing the contrast between the tops of his thighs, floating above the water line, how he can still feel heat rising from the tub along the sides of his legs but the very tops, that line down along the quadriceps, is cooler.
He must have stretched with that, because Karl steadies his shoulders and Viggo leans back just a half-inch, and Orlando feels his legs lengthen and become strong, dependable: The legs of a man who will notice the little things, the kinds of things that are new every time they happen for a four-week, six-week, eight-week-old little boy.
Karl's broad hands, his long fingers, slip under Orlando's shoulder blades, and Orlando lets his head sink into the water, bumping up against Karl's chest like a boat in safe harbor, eyes closed, just moving with the wavelets, floating.
Viggo finishes his other foot and holds them cupped in his palms, slowly letting them sink beneath the water until only the tops of his great toes are still out in the air. He feels the water pour between his toes, imagines them trunks of great trees met by spring floods, and holding, holding, safe in the ground they've grown in, and eventually he falls asleep.
Not for long- 15 minutes- but it's like rising up with the sun, fresh and new and ready to be filled with this new day, and the smiles Karl and Viggo give each other light up the whole bath, and Orlando counts himself blessed beyond imagining, that they still love him this much, to give him this trust and not demand anything from him.
It's one of the arrangements he's made in this new life- he's only with Miranda, that way, for now. But Karl understands that, Viggo understands that, they're fathers, their sons have mothers- there are obligations to the role, to being a father, and one of them is to- as much as possible- not muddy the waters for the child.
So there is no sex this time, and after they've all dried off [new towels, he thinks, they're using the new towels I bought for them when I moved in with Mir, as Karl dries his back and Viggo his front] and there's been tea/maté/beer out on the deck, and the dogs have run up and down the stairs to the beach one last time, he holds his lovers each and together for a long time, until they're each, all, just floating in this space that's theirs, where even if one of them doesn't quite reach the other side from where he is, the other two will be there, somehow, to help him reach his goal.
slashfairy
~~
Orlando stretches out, just like he used to, back of his head resting on the edge, toes reaching for the opposite side of the big tub.
- How old's Flynn now? Karl asks.
- Getting old too fast, Orlando says, wrapping one arm around himself trying to stretch away a knot.
- Right. Karl nods. Hunter's going to be taller than he'd expected- it'll be changes and changes and changes, but not like it is with Flynn for Orlando right now.
Viggo takes one of Orlando's feet in his hands, starts kneading the sole. Pressure firm enough to calm, not to tickle but to ground.
- Saw the pictures of you in Paris with him. You're doing it right, Orlando- you're playing dinosaurs with him. Viggo's thumb smooths a particularly callused spot and Orlando sighs deeply.
-Here, let me, Karl says, lifting Orlando's head and sliding in under. Orlando's not quite tall enough to reach from side to side of the big tub, but he can rest comfortably with one of them to hold up each end, and his back relaxes for what seems like the first time in a year, since Miranda first told him he was going to be a father.
He gives himself over to the water, noticing the contrast between the tops of his thighs, floating above the water line, how he can still feel heat rising from the tub along the sides of his legs but the very tops, that line down along the quadriceps, is cooler.
He must have stretched with that, because Karl steadies his shoulders and Viggo leans back just a half-inch, and Orlando feels his legs lengthen and become strong, dependable: The legs of a man who will notice the little things, the kinds of things that are new every time they happen for a four-week, six-week, eight-week-old little boy.
Karl's broad hands, his long fingers, slip under Orlando's shoulder blades, and Orlando lets his head sink into the water, bumping up against Karl's chest like a boat in safe harbor, eyes closed, just moving with the wavelets, floating.
Viggo finishes his other foot and holds them cupped in his palms, slowly letting them sink beneath the water until only the tops of his great toes are still out in the air. He feels the water pour between his toes, imagines them trunks of great trees met by spring floods, and holding, holding, safe in the ground they've grown in, and eventually he falls asleep.
Not for long- 15 minutes- but it's like rising up with the sun, fresh and new and ready to be filled with this new day, and the smiles Karl and Viggo give each other light up the whole bath, and Orlando counts himself blessed beyond imagining, that they still love him this much, to give him this trust and not demand anything from him.
It's one of the arrangements he's made in this new life- he's only with Miranda, that way, for now. But Karl understands that, Viggo understands that, they're fathers, their sons have mothers- there are obligations to the role, to being a father, and one of them is to- as much as possible- not muddy the waters for the child.
So there is no sex this time, and after they've all dried off [new towels, he thinks, they're using the new towels I bought for them when I moved in with Mir, as Karl dries his back and Viggo his front] and there's been tea/maté/beer out on the deck, and the dogs have run up and down the stairs to the beach one last time, he holds his lovers each and together for a long time, until they're each, all, just floating in this space that's theirs, where even if one of them doesn't quite reach the other side from where he is, the other two will be there, somehow, to help him reach his goal.