Original: Coming Home (PG13)
Title: Coming Home
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 994 (whoohoooo!)
Summary: It takes Rigo four years to come home.
Warnings: Hints at something more adult that kissing.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters etc. are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A/N: Today's sundaysnuggles story is presented to you by "Why keep it simple if I can complicate things." This is the eighth version I've written. It's also the cheesiest one. Ack.
Story was inspired by this painting. Not because I like it so much but because my mother bought it as a jigsaw puzzle and hung the finished thing in the living room. And, well, it's kind of cute and fluffy. Just the right thing to inspire a Sunday snuggle. ;-)
Coming Home
When the plane reaches cruising altitude, Rigo leans back and finally relaxes.
Free, he is free now. It's too late for Father to do anything to stop him, to call him back for more ostensibly important family business, too late to bully the plane's crew or the airport into preventing take off.
And he's twenty-five today, finally in complete control of his fortune and his business, and no matter what Father does, he can no longer control Rigo.
He's finally free to go home - home to Kenneth.
Rigo closes his eyes and smiles.
*
Kenneth stops at the garden gate and looks up at the house. The setting sun reflects in the windows and paints streaks of gold onto the white wood. The blue window frames and shutters seem to glow in the settling dusk.
He loves this house. It's probably ridiculous how much, but it was his first job after he'd set up his own carpentry. It's his baby, and he still takes great pride in the fact that everything he replaced and repaired and polished and changed looks authentic.
There's also the fact that this house belongs to Rigo Chevero, pretty and enigmatic and thoroughly confusing Rigo. Who comes by every couple of months but never stays long despite the fact that this is his official address.
Rigo, whose dark brown eyes sometimes rest with such heat on Kenneth but who never does anything about it. Never touches, never speaks, and always deflects any attempt on Kenneth's part to change things between them.
Kenneth doesn't understand those mixed signals, and he thinks he would have given up long ago on his housemate if it wasn't for Rigo's eyes. Those speaking, yearning eyes.
Oh, and Rigo's warm smile. His surprisingly deep voice. His untidy, reddish-brown hair. His enthusiasm for all of Kenneth's plans for the house. The white roses he brought for Kenneth's birthday that first spring.
It's been four years. Four years since the day when, several weeks after White Rose had been auctioned, a thin young man came into Kenneth's carpenter's workshop and asked him if he wanted to move into his house.
Kenneth can't help but smile at the memory of his own spluttering and Rigo's nervous explanations. A mother leaving her fortune tied in a trust her son could only access when he turned twenty-one and a controlling father who had ordered him to sell an empty, useless house had tumbled together with Rigo's agent buying the house for him and his recent birthday and the plea to live in Rigo's great-grandmother's house so that his father couldn't make him sell it.
And because Kenneth had dreamt of living in this house and because he'd liked the young man's large, expressive eyes, he'd agreed.
Four years. Sometimes, Kenneth can't believe himself. But he'd never leave this house. He could never give up those rare moments with Rigo.
"The garden look so beautiful," a high voice enthuses, breaking his reverie.
Knowing what to expect, Kenneth turns to look at Marietta. She lives further down the road, and every time she spots Kenneth walking past on his way home, she follows him and tries to talk to him.
Marietta smiles coyly and flutters her lashes. Kenneth sighs and looks away. No matter how often he's stated that he's not interested, she still thinks she can change his mind.
"Are you taking care of the garden yourself?"
Kenneth nods shortly.
"Ooh, how wonderful, you are such a talented man-"
He stands still, lets her words float by. He looks at the white roses that climb over the archway, the white roses Rigo brought and which the house was originally named for, and breathes in their sweet scents. They're blossoming for the first time this year.
The thought is warming and oddly hopeful.
*
A car and a message from his father are awaiting Rigo at the airport. Rigo deletes his father's message and tells his driver to bring him home.
The driver grins and does so.
There are two people standing in front of the gate when the car pulls up, a man and a woman, but Rigo has only eyes for Kenneth. There is an expression of slight annoyance on his face that clears the moment he sees Rigo getting out of the car.
The broad smile that follows is the best welcome home Rigo can imagine.
Well, almost.
"Rigo!"
The happy exclamation makes it better.
But the best, the utter, absolute best, is when Kenneth begins to melt under Rigo's kiss. When strong hands come up to cup Rigo's head tenderly. When Kenneth kisses back.
Out of breath, beaming, Rigo finally steps back a little, only enough to look up into Kenneth's eyes. He's looking quite stunned.
"H-happy birthday," Kenneth mutters, visibly trying to gather his thoughts. He blinks. "Rigo? What …?"
Rigo laughs. "My birthday present," he says softly. "I'm twenty-five today. There's nothing that my father can do, now, or in the future, to control me or to run my life."
"Rigo …" Kenneth breathes. Rigo has to kiss him again.
"I've been wanting to do this … ever since I first met you," he whispers against Kenneth's lips. "But I was so worried, that Father would find out, that he would find a way to separate us, or to marry me off to some girl, and he would have, I couldn't risk it, I'm-"
And then he can't say anything more, because Kenneth is kissing him.
*
The driver unloads the two suitcases from the car and grins broadly at the spectacle of Ricardo Eduardo Alejandro García de la Rosa Blanca Delgado Chevero wrapped around the village carpenter.
He winks at the pretty blonde woman standing gaping at the two men.
"About time," he tells her.
*
Later that night, under the covers of what is now their bed in their bedroom, Kenneth holds Rigo tightly against his body and whispers, "Welcome home."
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 994 (whoohoooo!)
Summary: It takes Rigo four years to come home.
Warnings: Hints at something more adult that kissing.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters etc. are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A/N: Today's sundaysnuggles story is presented to you by "Why keep it simple if I can complicate things." This is the eighth version I've written. It's also the cheesiest one. Ack.
Story was inspired by this painting. Not because I like it so much but because my mother bought it as a jigsaw puzzle and hung the finished thing in the living room. And, well, it's kind of cute and fluffy. Just the right thing to inspire a Sunday snuggle. ;-)
Coming Home
When the plane reaches cruising altitude, Rigo leans back and finally relaxes.
Free, he is free now. It's too late for Father to do anything to stop him, to call him back for more ostensibly important family business, too late to bully the plane's crew or the airport into preventing take off.
And he's twenty-five today, finally in complete control of his fortune and his business, and no matter what Father does, he can no longer control Rigo.
He's finally free to go home - home to Kenneth.
Rigo closes his eyes and smiles.
*
Kenneth stops at the garden gate and looks up at the house. The setting sun reflects in the windows and paints streaks of gold onto the white wood. The blue window frames and shutters seem to glow in the settling dusk.
He loves this house. It's probably ridiculous how much, but it was his first job after he'd set up his own carpentry. It's his baby, and he still takes great pride in the fact that everything he replaced and repaired and polished and changed looks authentic.
There's also the fact that this house belongs to Rigo Chevero, pretty and enigmatic and thoroughly confusing Rigo. Who comes by every couple of months but never stays long despite the fact that this is his official address.
Rigo, whose dark brown eyes sometimes rest with such heat on Kenneth but who never does anything about it. Never touches, never speaks, and always deflects any attempt on Kenneth's part to change things between them.
Kenneth doesn't understand those mixed signals, and he thinks he would have given up long ago on his housemate if it wasn't for Rigo's eyes. Those speaking, yearning eyes.
Oh, and Rigo's warm smile. His surprisingly deep voice. His untidy, reddish-brown hair. His enthusiasm for all of Kenneth's plans for the house. The white roses he brought for Kenneth's birthday that first spring.
It's been four years. Four years since the day when, several weeks after White Rose had been auctioned, a thin young man came into Kenneth's carpenter's workshop and asked him if he wanted to move into his house.
Kenneth can't help but smile at the memory of his own spluttering and Rigo's nervous explanations. A mother leaving her fortune tied in a trust her son could only access when he turned twenty-one and a controlling father who had ordered him to sell an empty, useless house had tumbled together with Rigo's agent buying the house for him and his recent birthday and the plea to live in Rigo's great-grandmother's house so that his father couldn't make him sell it.
And because Kenneth had dreamt of living in this house and because he'd liked the young man's large, expressive eyes, he'd agreed.
Four years. Sometimes, Kenneth can't believe himself. But he'd never leave this house. He could never give up those rare moments with Rigo.
"The garden look so beautiful," a high voice enthuses, breaking his reverie.
Knowing what to expect, Kenneth turns to look at Marietta. She lives further down the road, and every time she spots Kenneth walking past on his way home, she follows him and tries to talk to him.
Marietta smiles coyly and flutters her lashes. Kenneth sighs and looks away. No matter how often he's stated that he's not interested, she still thinks she can change his mind.
"Are you taking care of the garden yourself?"
Kenneth nods shortly.
"Ooh, how wonderful, you are such a talented man-"
He stands still, lets her words float by. He looks at the white roses that climb over the archway, the white roses Rigo brought and which the house was originally named for, and breathes in their sweet scents. They're blossoming for the first time this year.
The thought is warming and oddly hopeful.
*
A car and a message from his father are awaiting Rigo at the airport. Rigo deletes his father's message and tells his driver to bring him home.
The driver grins and does so.
There are two people standing in front of the gate when the car pulls up, a man and a woman, but Rigo has only eyes for Kenneth. There is an expression of slight annoyance on his face that clears the moment he sees Rigo getting out of the car.
The broad smile that follows is the best welcome home Rigo can imagine.
Well, almost.
"Rigo!"
The happy exclamation makes it better.
But the best, the utter, absolute best, is when Kenneth begins to melt under Rigo's kiss. When strong hands come up to cup Rigo's head tenderly. When Kenneth kisses back.
Out of breath, beaming, Rigo finally steps back a little, only enough to look up into Kenneth's eyes. He's looking quite stunned.
"H-happy birthday," Kenneth mutters, visibly trying to gather his thoughts. He blinks. "Rigo? What …?"
Rigo laughs. "My birthday present," he says softly. "I'm twenty-five today. There's nothing that my father can do, now, or in the future, to control me or to run my life."
"Rigo …" Kenneth breathes. Rigo has to kiss him again.
"I've been wanting to do this … ever since I first met you," he whispers against Kenneth's lips. "But I was so worried, that Father would find out, that he would find a way to separate us, or to marry me off to some girl, and he would have, I couldn't risk it, I'm-"
And then he can't say anything more, because Kenneth is kissing him.
*
The driver unloads the two suitcases from the car and grins broadly at the spectacle of Ricardo Eduardo Alejandro García de la Rosa Blanca Delgado Chevero wrapped around the village carpenter.
He winks at the pretty blonde woman standing gaping at the two men.
"About time," he tells her.
*
Later that night, under the covers of what is now their bed in their bedroom, Kenneth holds Rigo tightly against his body and whispers, "Welcome home."