Fic: Fragments of a reconstruction 22/?
anonymous
September 29 2013, 22:45:17 UTC
Fuck, is Nick's first thought when he wakes up the following morning. Why the fuck did I--?
Like so many thoughts, it hangs unfinished. He feels (deeply, painfully) as though he's been unfaithful. He's not even sure to whom, and he knows, he knows that there is nothing in the world wrong with loving David, or Miriam ( oh Miriam!) or his kids, or all of them, the way he does.
Stupid. You know better than that.
Nick sits up, grimacing at the hour on the alarm clock, and the fact that Spain or no, the bedroom is cold. The only light behind the thin curtains is the yellowish glow of street lights.
David is asleep on his side, half-turned towards Nick, one hand curled under his chin. His hair is brilliantly awry, and Nick feels abruptly ashamed of his guilt.
It must have taken trust, on David's part, to get back on the horse, so to speak. Trust and, and love or desire, in whatever form David lets himself feel it. Precious things, and yet here he is--
No, Nick tells himself. There is absolutely no point in feeling guilty over feeling guilty.
He sighs, and runs his hands through his hair. He fucking hates mornings. All the thoughts he's too busy to think the rest of the day come crowding round like lobby journalists, and won't take no for an answer.
David stirs, murmuring something indistinct. He rolls towards Nick and blinks up, a sleepily affectionate smile curving at his lips. The corner of the duvet flaps back, revealing the edge of one pale brown nipple on David's narrow, almost hairless chest.
Nick can't deal with David right now; not till he's dealt with himself. "Get some more sleep," he says quietly, and tries to smile back, letting his hand brush against the warm skin of David's bare shoulder. "I'll see you later."
David's eyes flicker to his face, and he nods. He must know something's up--Nick knows his poker face only goes so far--but David is one of the greatest masters of circumspection Nick's ever met. God help him, it's one of the things that makes David so very valuable.
Re: Fic: Fragments of a reconstruction 22/?
anonymous
September 30 2013, 20:42:18 UTC
Oh! I was just about to email you to plead for a little moar... then it occurred to me that I should check the meme, and here it is! So delighted :D
I love how the revisions make this scene even more beautiful and sensual
David is asleep on his side, half-turned towards Nick, one hand curled under his chin. His hair is brilliantly awry
What an absolutely adorable image <3
It must have taken trust, on David's part, to get back on the horse, so to speak.
LOL at Nick's euphemisms. And also <3, because yes, it must have taken trust.
Trust and, and love or desire, in whatever form David lets himself feel it.
:/ the idea of Nick feeling so alienated from/uncertain about David's feelings and the workings of his mind is painful - as if they're on different planets, which no doubt heightens Nick's loneliness.
Like so many thoughts, it hangs unfinished. He feels (deeply, painfully) as though he's been unfaithful. He's not even sure to whom, and he knows, he knows that there is nothing in the world wrong with loving David, or Miriam ( oh Miriam!) or his kids, or all of them, the way he does.
Stupid. You know better than that.
Nick sits up, grimacing at the hour on the alarm clock, and the fact that Spain or no, the bedroom is cold. The only light behind the thin curtains is the yellowish glow of street lights.
David is asleep on his side, half-turned towards Nick, one hand curled under his chin. His hair is brilliantly awry, and Nick feels abruptly ashamed of his guilt.
It must have taken trust, on David's part, to get back on the horse, so to speak. Trust and, and love or desire, in whatever form David lets himself feel it. Precious things, and yet here he is--
No, Nick tells himself. There is absolutely no point in feeling guilty over feeling guilty.
He sighs, and runs his hands through his hair. He fucking hates mornings. All the thoughts he's too busy to think the rest of the day come crowding round like lobby journalists, and won't take no for an answer.
David stirs, murmuring something indistinct. He rolls towards Nick and blinks up, a sleepily affectionate smile curving at his lips. The corner of the duvet flaps back, revealing the edge of one pale brown nipple on David's narrow, almost hairless chest.
Nick can't deal with David right now; not till he's dealt with himself. "Get some more sleep," he says quietly, and tries to smile back, letting his hand brush against the warm skin of David's bare shoulder. "I'll see you later."
David's eyes flicker to his face, and he nods. He must know something's up--Nick knows his poker face only goes so far--but David is one of the greatest masters of circumspection Nick's ever met. God help him, it's one of the things that makes David so very valuable.
Nick smiles regretfully, and climbs from the bed.
~ ~ ~
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I love how the revisions make this scene even more beautiful and sensual
David is asleep on his side, half-turned towards Nick, one hand curled under his chin. His hair is brilliantly awry
What an absolutely adorable image <3
It must have taken trust, on David's part, to get back on the horse, so to speak.
LOL at Nick's euphemisms. And also <3, because yes, it must have taken trust.
Trust and, and love or desire, in whatever form David lets himself feel it.
:/ the idea of Nick feeling so alienated from/uncertain about David's feelings and the workings of his mind is painful - as if they're on different planets, which no doubt heightens Nick's loneliness.
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