Twelve days of Christmas: Day one
The little AU: The Twelve Days of Christmas: Day One
slashfairy
G
Christmas itself passes quietly, private to the three of them, full of gentle murmuring and sweet conversation, laughter over tales of misunderstandings and mistakes made shared between kisses and tea, hugs and chocolates, sex and baths and sleep and sports on the tele. There're hurts to address, frustrations to work out, or through, or get over, or past... and dreams to pull out again, look at in the cold light of reality, and realities to adjust or adjust to. Sacrifices they can make, and sacrifices they might make, should perhaps make, won't make, can't make that will affect this Christmas and all the Christmases yet to come.
Viggo sits on a chair out on the balcony, a tight, close in balcony suited for the London weather, not a deep spread-out sun-loving balcony as you might find in a hotel in LA, but one suited to introspection, to the kind of slightly depressed mulling over one does the day after a perfect day, when things haven't returned to 'normal' yet but are clearly moving away from 'extraordinary'.
The two words normal and extraordinary catch his ear; he starts turning them over each other like Chinese meditation balls, letting the unthinking rhythm of it lull him to sleep. Just before he drops off, he thinks Tomorrow, but what tomorrow is for or will bring he'll have to find in his dreams, or wait until it unfolds.
previously:
next: day two
slashfairy
G
Christmas itself passes quietly, private to the three of them, full of gentle murmuring and sweet conversation, laughter over tales of misunderstandings and mistakes made shared between kisses and tea, hugs and chocolates, sex and baths and sleep and sports on the tele. There're hurts to address, frustrations to work out, or through, or get over, or past... and dreams to pull out again, look at in the cold light of reality, and realities to adjust or adjust to. Sacrifices they can make, and sacrifices they might make, should perhaps make, won't make, can't make that will affect this Christmas and all the Christmases yet to come.
Viggo sits on a chair out on the balcony, a tight, close in balcony suited for the London weather, not a deep spread-out sun-loving balcony as you might find in a hotel in LA, but one suited to introspection, to the kind of slightly depressed mulling over one does the day after a perfect day, when things haven't returned to 'normal' yet but are clearly moving away from 'extraordinary'.
The two words normal and extraordinary catch his ear; he starts turning them over each other like Chinese meditation balls, letting the unthinking rhythm of it lull him to sleep. Just before he drops off, he thinks Tomorrow, but what tomorrow is for or will bring he'll have to find in his dreams, or wait until it unfolds.
previously:
next: day two