Primavera: sleepy sunday
The little AU: Primavera: Sleepy Sunday
slashfairy
~~
It's a slow day, this one. They wake late, tangled in the big bed, relaxed in each other's sleeping forms, the dogs in a circle-pile at the foot of the bed on the floor Karl refinished when he remodeled this room and the bathroom.
The sun comes in through the fog silvery and sweet as Karl starts coffee, Vig makes eggs and bacon (Karl and himself) and Kashi with raisins (Orlando) and Orli makes toast and sets the table on the deck. It's warm here onshore- rainy further inland they'd heard but the Gulf Stream works today, anyway, and the Coast is temperate as the fog burns off.
Henry's on the radio from Barnard, a kick-ass playlist this week, and Henry sounding more and more assured to the point of saying his whole name, not Henry M, and just chuckling when his mouth gets ahead of his eyes, or is it the other way round? no matter, he picks himself up and goes right on, confident, comfortable, the music settling around the men and their breakfast like feathers.
Later, after interesting stories from the road, and concerned questions answered ("Are you sleeping now?" and "How's Hunter, have you talked to him lately?" and "Really? Nothing in the hopper? So you can study, that's grand love!") they leash up the dogs and head down the beach, walking nearly to the far end of the cove before turning back, gathering driftwood and shells and feathers, walking shoulder to shoulder, sometimes hand in hand, depending on who's got the dogs. The walk does them all good- being together, the sand, the sea, quiet privacy- they're smiling and buoyant when they get back home.
A nap seems indicated, if the fact that Viggo dozed off on the porch swing is any indication, but Orli's too bouncy so he goes into the study, looks over the things in progress, and starts working on a chicken-wire and wood armature he'd put away late last year. Karl looks at the sky and smiles- there'll be rain by tonight, he thinks, laying in the fire to be lit in the large stone hearth in the living room.
After he wakes, stretches, stands, stretches again, Viggo seeks out the others. Orlando's involved, now, framing an arm upraised, a hand reaching for some melody only the dancer can hear. Viggo kisses him on the cheek and makes to leave but gets an arm around his waist and a 'not so fast, old man' for his trouble before being cradled in Orlando's arms for a long moment. "Thank you for bringing me home, love," Orli whispers into Viggo's shirt, the words vibrating up and down his spine and becoming immediately part of his entire nervous system. He leans back into Orli's caress, just enjoying it all, before he lifts himself out, gives Orlando another, deeper kiss, and shambles into the house to find Karl.
Karl's been busy, built a nice fire of drift and kindling for later. He's on the sofa now, playing some video game with uproarious abandon, calling out to his player, to the others, cursing, having a wonderfully engaged and lively time. Viggo loves him like this- he sits down beside Karl on the sofa and slides down until his head's nearly in Karl's lap. "Look out! I might hit you with the controller!" Karl says, but he puts it on pause, laughing, and leans down to kiss this man he loves so much he left home and country for him, kiss him long and deeply and so confidently that it's perfect. When the kiss ends, Viggo slides upright again, hands Karl the controller, and says "I'll make dinner."
"No," says Orlando, coming in from outside. "I'll make dinner. You go set up for shower and bath and bed, hm? You are tired, still, I think.' Viggo starts to argue, then sighs and agrees. They know each other so well now there's just no use denying things like that.
Orli makes veg stir-fry, rich and satisfying, with two kinds of rice and a hot&sour soup he's learned somewhere, and serves mangoes, fresh, for desert. They eat and talk and sit quietly and enjoy, and Karl's fire is warm when the rain comes in from the north after all having swung back out from inland as it's wont to do in the Spring on the Coast, and they startle at the first slap of wind and wet on the windows, then laugh at themselves and continue on.
After the dinner, and the shower where they scrub each other down, and a long soak in scented water in the big cedar tub, they dry themselves and each other off, playing, winding down and easing into and warming up, until there they are, in the big bed again, anything but asleep, and very much in love.
Monday, no-one's working. They'll sleep in, again.
slashfairy
~~
It's a slow day, this one. They wake late, tangled in the big bed, relaxed in each other's sleeping forms, the dogs in a circle-pile at the foot of the bed on the floor Karl refinished when he remodeled this room and the bathroom.
The sun comes in through the fog silvery and sweet as Karl starts coffee, Vig makes eggs and bacon (Karl and himself) and Kashi with raisins (Orlando) and Orli makes toast and sets the table on the deck. It's warm here onshore- rainy further inland they'd heard but the Gulf Stream works today, anyway, and the Coast is temperate as the fog burns off.
Henry's on the radio from Barnard, a kick-ass playlist this week, and Henry sounding more and more assured to the point of saying his whole name, not Henry M, and just chuckling when his mouth gets ahead of his eyes, or is it the other way round? no matter, he picks himself up and goes right on, confident, comfortable, the music settling around the men and their breakfast like feathers.
Later, after interesting stories from the road, and concerned questions answered ("Are you sleeping now?" and "How's Hunter, have you talked to him lately?" and "Really? Nothing in the hopper? So you can study, that's grand love!") they leash up the dogs and head down the beach, walking nearly to the far end of the cove before turning back, gathering driftwood and shells and feathers, walking shoulder to shoulder, sometimes hand in hand, depending on who's got the dogs. The walk does them all good- being together, the sand, the sea, quiet privacy- they're smiling and buoyant when they get back home.
A nap seems indicated, if the fact that Viggo dozed off on the porch swing is any indication, but Orli's too bouncy so he goes into the study, looks over the things in progress, and starts working on a chicken-wire and wood armature he'd put away late last year. Karl looks at the sky and smiles- there'll be rain by tonight, he thinks, laying in the fire to be lit in the large stone hearth in the living room.
After he wakes, stretches, stands, stretches again, Viggo seeks out the others. Orlando's involved, now, framing an arm upraised, a hand reaching for some melody only the dancer can hear. Viggo kisses him on the cheek and makes to leave but gets an arm around his waist and a 'not so fast, old man' for his trouble before being cradled in Orlando's arms for a long moment. "Thank you for bringing me home, love," Orli whispers into Viggo's shirt, the words vibrating up and down his spine and becoming immediately part of his entire nervous system. He leans back into Orli's caress, just enjoying it all, before he lifts himself out, gives Orlando another, deeper kiss, and shambles into the house to find Karl.
Karl's been busy, built a nice fire of drift and kindling for later. He's on the sofa now, playing some video game with uproarious abandon, calling out to his player, to the others, cursing, having a wonderfully engaged and lively time. Viggo loves him like this- he sits down beside Karl on the sofa and slides down until his head's nearly in Karl's lap. "Look out! I might hit you with the controller!" Karl says, but he puts it on pause, laughing, and leans down to kiss this man he loves so much he left home and country for him, kiss him long and deeply and so confidently that it's perfect. When the kiss ends, Viggo slides upright again, hands Karl the controller, and says "I'll make dinner."
"No," says Orlando, coming in from outside. "I'll make dinner. You go set up for shower and bath and bed, hm? You are tired, still, I think.' Viggo starts to argue, then sighs and agrees. They know each other so well now there's just no use denying things like that.
Orli makes veg stir-fry, rich and satisfying, with two kinds of rice and a hot&sour soup he's learned somewhere, and serves mangoes, fresh, for desert. They eat and talk and sit quietly and enjoy, and Karl's fire is warm when the rain comes in from the north after all having swung back out from inland as it's wont to do in the Spring on the Coast, and they startle at the first slap of wind and wet on the windows, then laugh at themselves and continue on.
After the dinner, and the shower where they scrub each other down, and a long soak in scented water in the big cedar tub, they dry themselves and each other off, playing, winding down and easing into and warming up, until there they are, in the big bed again, anything but asleep, and very much in love.
Monday, no-one's working. They'll sleep in, again.