This used to be an uncommon sight. Gabriel had strict self-discipline, always, about working productively when he was working, and setting it aside when he wasn't.
And he still has strict self-discipline -- far stricter than Regan would like, especially on days when he struggles to get out of bed (and sometimes fails, for a time), and days when she can practically see him telling himself no one can tell how much he's leaning on his cane. But all the same...
It's not an uncommon sight any more.
And not for the world would Regan wake him.
She pauses in the doorway, and her lips press together just for a moment. A moment is all she allows herself.
Regan had started to turn away; she wanted to pull the papers out of his hands, maybe take the blanket from the back of the couch to drape over him, but she knows from experience that either of those is likely to wake him. (And then he'll want to go back to work.)
At the sound of fluttering papers and the rasping catch of breath, though, she turns back quickly.
It's too much to hope that he'll fall back asleep, isn't it.
An instant's faint surprise, and then she smiles slightly, crooked and affectionate.
"No." She steps into the room fully, crossing to her husband's chair; a hand settles on the upholstered arm next to his, so she can bend down and kiss the top of his head lightly.
And he still has strict self-discipline -- far stricter than Regan would like, especially on days when he struggles to get out of bed (and sometimes fails, for a time), and days when she can practically see him telling himself no one can tell how much he's leaning on his cane. But all the same...
It's not an uncommon sight any more.
And not for the world would Regan wake him.
She pauses in the doorway, and her lips press together just for a moment. A moment is all she allows herself.
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It's a relief, of sorts, but it never lasts long.
He shifts in his chair at some dream-thought; the papers start to slide to the ground, startling him awake.
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At the sound of fluttering papers and the rasping catch of breath, though, she turns back quickly.
It's too much to hope that he'll fall back asleep, isn't it.
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He takes hold of the arm of the chair, pushing himself fully upright once more.
"Regan? Is something wrong?"
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"No." She steps into the room fully, crossing to her husband's chair; a hand settles on the upholstered arm next to his, so she can bend down and kiss the top of his head lightly.
"You looked like you were having a nice nap."
Like you needed the nap, is what she edits out.
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"I suppose I was."
A pause.
"What time is it?"
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"A little after five. Dinner should be ready soon."
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After all, that's what he'd been doing when he fell asleep.
"Or..."
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"The bill can wait, Gabriel."
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Dryly said, but it's evident he's amused.
"Far be it from me to argue with you when you're that determined, love."
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Well, it's not. But Regan bites back amusement anyway.
"Smart man."
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"And a flatterer." Her free hand settles on top of her husband's, and squeezes lightly.
"Has anyone ever told you you'd make a wonderful politician?"
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Regan can never decide how she feels about politics. So she smiles and laughs, and ignores the issue as best she can.
As she grins this time, and says cheerfully, "Well. Perhaps you'll think about it, then."
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He stretches a little, and moves to stand.
"How was your day?"
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