(no subject)
A tiny tiny bit of Iowa for Cate:
Because some mornings, when Rodney's worked through the night, when his mind's still buzzing but his body's exhausted, before John and Finn are up, when he's still rooted in the kitchen with the early morning light streaming through the windows, he looks out across the fields and hears music in the quiet-the rhythm of a woodpecker drumming against the big pine tree, morning chorus of songbirds waking up, the hushed pause between dawn and sunrise's crescendo and the ringing silence after.
And if there's a phantom ache in his fingers, he heads upstairs to bed and soothes them against John's skin.
Because some mornings, when Rodney's worked through the night, when his mind's still buzzing but his body's exhausted, before John and Finn are up, when he's still rooted in the kitchen with the early morning light streaming through the windows, he looks out across the fields and hears music in the quiet-the rhythm of a woodpecker drumming against the big pine tree, morning chorus of songbirds waking up, the hushed pause between dawn and sunrise's crescendo and the ringing silence after.
And if there's a phantom ache in his fingers, he heads upstairs to bed and soothes them against John's skin.