The little AU: Winter Hopes: Moment
The little AU: Winter Hopes: Moment
slashfairy
~~
They get the messages one right after the other. Flight delayed, might be here all night, try to sleep, love you. They know he's sent it to them, to Henry, and though they wish he'd made it in tonight, they're relieved to know he's safe someplace, not flying in some storm, or back East in some other storm.
Movie night. Hunter'd picked Shrek 2, which keeps them all entertained although each man later confesses to the other that he'd not gotten all the joke references. Still, it's enough to bring them all to uproarious laughter a few times -Hunter at the hijinks in the movie, the men at Hunter's amusement and their enjoyment of it.
Later, after Karl's walked the dogs and Orli's read Hunter a story and Karl's come back to tuck him into bed, they stand on the small deck over the first-floor bay window looking out over the bright night, the fog not inland yet and no rain threatening, and talk about this year, this miracle.
Wasn't sure we'd be us, you know, while back, Karl says quietly.
I know, Orlando says. I wasn't, either. You and Vig, maybe but not- wasn't sure-
But we came, we came and found you. Karl turns to him then, looks him in the eyes, steadily. Not romantic, not mushy and soft, just straight and clear. We came and found you, and you came back with us. And here we are.
Yes, here we are. Orlando watches as Karl picks up his hand, turns it over front to back and back to front, running a finger over scars from various blacksmith's forges, swords, and horses' gear. Karl's hands are questioning, compassionate, curious to learn Orlando's hands intimately in more ways than just how they feel on his body.
Did he decide where he's coming? here or north? Karl asks.
Don't think he had when he got stuck in the airport, no. He needs the rest, the quiet- Orlando pauses.
And you need to see him, to be sure he's not worn himself out, been worn down too much by unexpected things, Karl answers.
Yea, Orli says, swallowing deeply, once, letting his hand stay in Karl's.
So do I, Karl says, but we need to trust him. He needs us to trust him.
I know, Orlando says. I know. I do. I trust him, just not-
Not the world?
No. Yes. Not the world. This time he takes his hand back, turns to look out over the railing on the small porch, all that separates them from the maelstrom of Los Angeles on the left, and the ocean on the right.
He'll let us know. He'll be all right, they say to each other then, Orlando wrapping an arm around Karl's waist, Karl letting his head rest on Orli's shoulder.
Later that night they wake, slightly befuddled, to Orlando's phone. The text reads, Happy New Year, love, and the sending number is Viggo's.
After they've called him, conferenced, gotten an idea of his plans, and reluctantly let him go, Karl says, Happy Birthday, love.
Orlando just kisses Karl, and snuggles in, and they fuck like lovers whose lives are full and rich and worth celebrating, and the world turns between the moon and the sun as the tide goes out and comes in again.
previously: Shape of my Heart
next: Vanity
slashfairy
~~
They get the messages one right after the other. Flight delayed, might be here all night, try to sleep, love you. They know he's sent it to them, to Henry, and though they wish he'd made it in tonight, they're relieved to know he's safe someplace, not flying in some storm, or back East in some other storm.
Movie night. Hunter'd picked Shrek 2, which keeps them all entertained although each man later confesses to the other that he'd not gotten all the joke references. Still, it's enough to bring them all to uproarious laughter a few times -Hunter at the hijinks in the movie, the men at Hunter's amusement and their enjoyment of it.
Later, after Karl's walked the dogs and Orli's read Hunter a story and Karl's come back to tuck him into bed, they stand on the small deck over the first-floor bay window looking out over the bright night, the fog not inland yet and no rain threatening, and talk about this year, this miracle.
Wasn't sure we'd be us, you know, while back, Karl says quietly.
I know, Orlando says. I wasn't, either. You and Vig, maybe but not- wasn't sure-
But we came, we came and found you. Karl turns to him then, looks him in the eyes, steadily. Not romantic, not mushy and soft, just straight and clear. We came and found you, and you came back with us. And here we are.
Yes, here we are. Orlando watches as Karl picks up his hand, turns it over front to back and back to front, running a finger over scars from various blacksmith's forges, swords, and horses' gear. Karl's hands are questioning, compassionate, curious to learn Orlando's hands intimately in more ways than just how they feel on his body.
Did he decide where he's coming? here or north? Karl asks.
Don't think he had when he got stuck in the airport, no. He needs the rest, the quiet- Orlando pauses.
And you need to see him, to be sure he's not worn himself out, been worn down too much by unexpected things, Karl answers.
Yea, Orli says, swallowing deeply, once, letting his hand stay in Karl's.
So do I, Karl says, but we need to trust him. He needs us to trust him.
I know, Orlando says. I know. I do. I trust him, just not-
Not the world?
No. Yes. Not the world. This time he takes his hand back, turns to look out over the railing on the small porch, all that separates them from the maelstrom of Los Angeles on the left, and the ocean on the right.
He'll let us know. He'll be all right, they say to each other then, Orlando wrapping an arm around Karl's waist, Karl letting his head rest on Orli's shoulder.
Later that night they wake, slightly befuddled, to Orlando's phone. The text reads, Happy New Year, love, and the sending number is Viggo's.
After they've called him, conferenced, gotten an idea of his plans, and reluctantly let him go, Karl says, Happy Birthday, love.
Orlando just kisses Karl, and snuggles in, and they fuck like lovers whose lives are full and rich and worth celebrating, and the world turns between the moon and the sun as the tide goes out and comes in again.
previously: Shape of my Heart
next: Vanity