[Noah (2014)] (PG)
Author's Note: Written for 
fic_promptly's Author's choice, author's choice, We Are Family. Naameh/Noah.
It almost came as a relief to her, that Noah went off into the caves near their new settling, taking the green wine jugs and spending his days draining them. They did not have to look at him in his shame and he did not have to sully them with his sulking. He had tried to hard to be the man of the family and had almost failed them with horrific results.
Still, she could have used his hands as she set to work with the next planting, this man who had planted Grandfather's gift of a seed from Paradise. And so she shouldered the work herself, planting their next crop, fruit of the earth, to nourish her sons and Ham's wife and daughters.
She heard a rustle in the grass and felt a shadow fall over her. A pair of hands, Noah's hands, those strong hands that had fastened the logs of the ark, that had helped her gather fruit or plant seeds, that had played with their sons or stroked her hair when they had found one another --
That had nearly killed their granddaughters --
No. Don't think of that. Let that sink in the waters that had diminished and gone back to their places.
His hands moved in and covered hers as she worked the soil. He leaned closer to her, his breath on her cheek, his cheek against her brow. She looked into his face, his eyes a fingers width from hers. Those eyes of the younger man who had gazed on her with awe and love, like Adam must have gazed at Evah when she first stood before him at the dawn of God's creation.
He managed a small smile, that rare but precious expression. She returned the smile and turned her hands over to press his, leaning her brow against his cheek.
He had come home to them in his senses. He had come back to her, and through her, to their family.
They could be a family again. They were a family. They are a family...
fic_promptly's Author's choice, author's choice, We Are Family. Naameh/Noah.
It almost came as a relief to her, that Noah went off into the caves near their new settling, taking the green wine jugs and spending his days draining them. They did not have to look at him in his shame and he did not have to sully them with his sulking. He had tried to hard to be the man of the family and had almost failed them with horrific results.
Still, she could have used his hands as she set to work with the next planting, this man who had planted Grandfather's gift of a seed from Paradise. And so she shouldered the work herself, planting their next crop, fruit of the earth, to nourish her sons and Ham's wife and daughters.
She heard a rustle in the grass and felt a shadow fall over her. A pair of hands, Noah's hands, those strong hands that had fastened the logs of the ark, that had helped her gather fruit or plant seeds, that had played with their sons or stroked her hair when they had found one another --
That had nearly killed their granddaughters --
No. Don't think of that. Let that sink in the waters that had diminished and gone back to their places.
His hands moved in and covered hers as she worked the soil. He leaned closer to her, his breath on her cheek, his cheek against her brow. She looked into his face, his eyes a fingers width from hers. Those eyes of the younger man who had gazed on her with awe and love, like Adam must have gazed at Evah when she first stood before him at the dawn of God's creation.
He managed a small smile, that rare but precious expression. She returned the smile and turned her hands over to press his, leaning her brow against his cheek.
He had come home to them in his senses. He had come back to her, and through her, to their family.
They could be a family again. They were a family. They are a family...