Happy birthday Bella!
Title: King for Just One Day
Rated T
Word count: 1600
A For All Time fic I wrote for mamabelladonna's birthday. I did try and add some sexiness to it, Bella, but unfortunately it ended up pretty sappy. In fact, really sappy. Have a lovely day. Thank you for your tireless effort at the_wireless and your excellent cheerleading.
“Where is he, Mama? Where’s Mr Charles?”
Mary eagerly looked over her shoulder towards the staircase when Laura entered the cosy, warm kitchen.
“He’s still sleeping.”
“But Mama! I have my gift all ready!”
“Hush child,” she scolded gently, leaning down to press a kiss amongst her daughter’s dark curls. “He’ll be down soon.”
Laura was amused when Mary seemed undeterred by the delay and proceeded to dance a lively jig around the kitchen.
However, Laura’s mother wasn’t so benevolent. “I don’t understand how any man can lie around in bed for so long,” she grumbled. “They obviously do a lot of things different in the next century.”
“I’m sure they do,” Laura agreed, bending to kiss her stubborn mother’s cheek and smile knowingly. If Mother’s knees weren’t so delicate, she would probably be joining Mary in an excited dance at this very moment. After all, it wasn’t her eight-year-old daughter who had risen early to make the batch of cornmeal muffins Laura could smell baking.
“It’s his birthday, Mother,” Laura chided gently. “Charles was very well-to-do in his own time. He gave up a lot of luxuries to live with us, so I think we can allow him this one extravagance on the first day of his fortieth year.”
Mrs Clark merely grunted and went back to sipping her tea.
“Why don’t I help you with your chores this morning, Mary, while we wait,” Laura suggested.
“Chores?”
They all spun around when Charles’ voice came from the doorway.
“No one has to do chores on my birthday, surely.”
Mary squealed with laughter and launched herself into his arms. “Happy birthday!” she shouted.
Charles twirled Mary around twice before setting her carefully back on her feet.
He nodded politely to Laura and her mother, bidding them both ‘good morning’ in a much more restrained manner.
Her breath caught at how handsome he looked. The fringe of his hair was falling down endearingly onto his forehead. It seemed to direct her gaze: first to his perfect blue eyes, and then to his full lips, reminding her of the kisses they had shared before she had reluctantly climbed out of their bed this morning.
She had whispered for him to stay where he was; to relax and have a later start. They had not gotten a great deal of rest last night. They had drifted off to sleep once or twice, but for most of the night they had stayed awake and indulged in time after time of near-perfect lovemaking.
“I have a gift!”
Mary’s excitement interrupted her musing.
“Thank you, munchkin,” Charles said, ruffling her hair. “You didn’t need to.”
“It’s a drawing. I’ve been practicing my exag-“ Mary bit her bottom lip and cocked her head to one side. “What’s it called again?”
“Exaggerating? You’ve been practicing exaggerating your subject’s features?”
“Yes!”
Laura snorted. “You may not want to see the results. I know Mother doesn’t.”
“Well, let me have a look at it,” Charles said, perching his round spectacles on the edge of his nose.
“This one is your grandmother?” he asked.
“Yes. See, I exaggerated her-“
“Yes,” Charles cut in. “I can see that.”
“This is Mama,” Mary said proudly.
Charles chuckled.
Laura clapped her hand across her mouth to stifle her giggles.
“But I drew your nose bigger,” Mary said proudly.
“So I see,” Charles replied diplomatically. “And my hair is…”
“White! See, I’ve made sure the rest of you is almost black so that the white of your hair stands out.”
“Very clever.”
Laura’s mother stood and handed Charles a small bundle.
“Mrs Clark, I wasn’t expecting-“
Mrs Clark waved him off as she lowered herself back into a kitchen chair. “It was my husband’s. God says ‘waste not, want not’. It’s no use to anyone sitting in a drawer. You might as well use it.”
Charles smiled broadly at Mrs Clark’s abrupt words. He unfurled the small scrap of material her gift was enclosed in, revealing a silver fob watch.
He rubbed his thumb reverently over the intricate pattern on the watch’s lid.
“Mrs Clark, I don’t know what to say…”
“You don’t need to say anything, Mr Lattimer,” her mother replied gruffly, reverting back to using Charles’ surname, fooling herself that she was keeping her distance. “Just promise me you’ll treat it with respect.”
“I will. I promise,” Charles vowed. “I’ll treasure it, Mrs Clark.”
Mary looked up at Laura with sparkling eyes. “May I tell him the rest of my gift, Mama?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Mary took a deep breath, the levity of the gift she was about to bestow on Charles only now registering to the child.
“Go ahead, Mary,” Laura encouraged. “I’m sure Charles will be very happy.”
Charles tried to catch her eye over the top of her child’s head, his expression questioning. She looked away; certain she was going to get emotional if she met his gaze.
“This picture.” Mary pointed to her cartoon. “This is Mama.” Her finger slowly moved to where she had attempted to capture Charles’ likeness in the drawing. “And this is Papa.”
Charles gave Mary a sharp look. “Papa?” he repeated, not confident that he understood his gift correctly.
“Yes. I would like to call you Papa,” Mary breathed. Charles’ reaction was stunned silence. After a long agonising moment, Mary bit her bottom lip and looked over her shoulder at her mother, unsure. “Mama said this would be a fine birthday gift for you.”
Just as Laura was contemplating stepping forward to reassure them both, Charles swept their child up into his arms and hugged her fiercely. She retreated, giving them both this minute alone, their shared tears mingling with their quiet laughter.
It was Mrs Clark who finally shattered the moment. She scraped her chair back and cleared her throat noisily. Laura hid her smile when she saw a damp lace handkerchief clutched in her mother’s fingers.
“Come, Mary,” she ordered with mock sternness. “Let’s go and invite Walt for our special birthday breakfast.”
“I never expected Mary to accept me quite so easily,” Charles confessed after they had left.
“You’re a good man, Charles. Children often perceive these things quicker than adults.”
He pulled her close and kissed her. It wasn’t the chaste kiss that she had expected. Instead it was open-mouthed and passionate. She returned it fervently.
“Is your mother taking Mary to school today?” he asked suggestively as his kisses descended to her neck, his hands attempting to gather her skirts up so he could touch her bare legs.
“You aren’t spent?” she asked with more than a hint of mirth.
He chuckled. “I’m obviously afraid of getting old and am out to prove something.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about the white hair in Mary’s drawing,” she cried, turning pink at her daughter’s innocent insult.
“I went prematurely grey a long time ago. I don’t think I’ll take offence at this stage of the game.”
“What game?”
He chuckled. “Never mind,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. Then, his expression turned serious. “You’re sure about this? You’re okay with Mary calling me ‘Papa’? Your first husband…”
“Would be happy,” she insisted. “I’m the one who remembers him. It will be up to me to ensure she knows what a good man he also was, and pass onto her as many happy memories of him as I can.”
He kissed her again; this time just a sweet brush of his lips across her forehead.
“You’re a good woman, Laura Lattimer.”
She buried her head into his chest, letting herself relax.
When she heard Mary’s excited chatter echoing across from the barn she lifted her head and met his loving gaze.
“Last night…You were trying to start another family?”
“No,” he said clearly.
She arched an eyebrow. “No?”
“Yes, you’re right, I was hoping you’d get pregnant last night. I’m sorry. Blame the realisation that I’m turning forty. But no, I’m not trying to start another family. I’m hoping to add to this one. Mary’s correct--I’m her Papa. I’m your husband. I’m even Mrs Clark’s son and Walt’s pseudo brother. I want to add to this family, to enrich it, not to start a separate one.”
Laura felt her tears flowing freely. “I know you think I’m not old, but in 1897, I am. It may not happen.”
He bent his head and they kissed again, not even bothering to stop when the rest of the family noisily re-entered the kitchen.
“Mama! Papa!” Mary complained until they finally parted.
“Even if it doesn’t happen,” Charles whispered in her ear, “I’m going to enjoy the benefits of our efforts.”
She slapped him playfully and turned to assist her mother with their meal, only to have his arm reach out and stop her progress.
She turned back and looked up at him expectantly.
“It’s my birthday, and all my gifts have been beautiful. But don’t forget, you are the most beautiful gift of them all.”
Mary chose that exact moment to grab Charles by the hand and drag him over to the head of the table.
She wiped the tears from her eyes as he sat, happily chatting to Walt and Mary as Mrs Clark busied herself with serving their breakfast feast.
She hadn’t realised that on his birthday, she would receive so many gifts herself.
Rated T
Word count: 1600
A For All Time fic I wrote for mamabelladonna's birthday. I did try and add some sexiness to it, Bella, but unfortunately it ended up pretty sappy. In fact, really sappy. Have a lovely day. Thank you for your tireless effort at the_wireless and your excellent cheerleading.
“Where is he, Mama? Where’s Mr Charles?”
Mary eagerly looked over her shoulder towards the staircase when Laura entered the cosy, warm kitchen.
“He’s still sleeping.”
“But Mama! I have my gift all ready!”
“Hush child,” she scolded gently, leaning down to press a kiss amongst her daughter’s dark curls. “He’ll be down soon.”
Laura was amused when Mary seemed undeterred by the delay and proceeded to dance a lively jig around the kitchen.
However, Laura’s mother wasn’t so benevolent. “I don’t understand how any man can lie around in bed for so long,” she grumbled. “They obviously do a lot of things different in the next century.”
“I’m sure they do,” Laura agreed, bending to kiss her stubborn mother’s cheek and smile knowingly. If Mother’s knees weren’t so delicate, she would probably be joining Mary in an excited dance at this very moment. After all, it wasn’t her eight-year-old daughter who had risen early to make the batch of cornmeal muffins Laura could smell baking.
“It’s his birthday, Mother,” Laura chided gently. “Charles was very well-to-do in his own time. He gave up a lot of luxuries to live with us, so I think we can allow him this one extravagance on the first day of his fortieth year.”
Mrs Clark merely grunted and went back to sipping her tea.
“Why don’t I help you with your chores this morning, Mary, while we wait,” Laura suggested.
“Chores?”
They all spun around when Charles’ voice came from the doorway.
“No one has to do chores on my birthday, surely.”
Mary squealed with laughter and launched herself into his arms. “Happy birthday!” she shouted.
Charles twirled Mary around twice before setting her carefully back on her feet.
He nodded politely to Laura and her mother, bidding them both ‘good morning’ in a much more restrained manner.
Her breath caught at how handsome he looked. The fringe of his hair was falling down endearingly onto his forehead. It seemed to direct her gaze: first to his perfect blue eyes, and then to his full lips, reminding her of the kisses they had shared before she had reluctantly climbed out of their bed this morning.
She had whispered for him to stay where he was; to relax and have a later start. They had not gotten a great deal of rest last night. They had drifted off to sleep once or twice, but for most of the night they had stayed awake and indulged in time after time of near-perfect lovemaking.
“I have a gift!”
Mary’s excitement interrupted her musing.
“Thank you, munchkin,” Charles said, ruffling her hair. “You didn’t need to.”
“It’s a drawing. I’ve been practicing my exag-“ Mary bit her bottom lip and cocked her head to one side. “What’s it called again?”
“Exaggerating? You’ve been practicing exaggerating your subject’s features?”
“Yes!”
Laura snorted. “You may not want to see the results. I know Mother doesn’t.”
“Well, let me have a look at it,” Charles said, perching his round spectacles on the edge of his nose.
“This one is your grandmother?” he asked.
“Yes. See, I exaggerated her-“
“Yes,” Charles cut in. “I can see that.”
“This is Mama,” Mary said proudly.
Charles chuckled.
Laura clapped her hand across her mouth to stifle her giggles.
“But I drew your nose bigger,” Mary said proudly.
“So I see,” Charles replied diplomatically. “And my hair is…”
“White! See, I’ve made sure the rest of you is almost black so that the white of your hair stands out.”
“Very clever.”
Laura’s mother stood and handed Charles a small bundle.
“Mrs Clark, I wasn’t expecting-“
Mrs Clark waved him off as she lowered herself back into a kitchen chair. “It was my husband’s. God says ‘waste not, want not’. It’s no use to anyone sitting in a drawer. You might as well use it.”
Charles smiled broadly at Mrs Clark’s abrupt words. He unfurled the small scrap of material her gift was enclosed in, revealing a silver fob watch.
He rubbed his thumb reverently over the intricate pattern on the watch’s lid.
“Mrs Clark, I don’t know what to say…”
“You don’t need to say anything, Mr Lattimer,” her mother replied gruffly, reverting back to using Charles’ surname, fooling herself that she was keeping her distance. “Just promise me you’ll treat it with respect.”
“I will. I promise,” Charles vowed. “I’ll treasure it, Mrs Clark.”
Mary looked up at Laura with sparkling eyes. “May I tell him the rest of my gift, Mama?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Mary took a deep breath, the levity of the gift she was about to bestow on Charles only now registering to the child.
“Go ahead, Mary,” Laura encouraged. “I’m sure Charles will be very happy.”
Charles tried to catch her eye over the top of her child’s head, his expression questioning. She looked away; certain she was going to get emotional if she met his gaze.
“This picture.” Mary pointed to her cartoon. “This is Mama.” Her finger slowly moved to where she had attempted to capture Charles’ likeness in the drawing. “And this is Papa.”
Charles gave Mary a sharp look. “Papa?” he repeated, not confident that he understood his gift correctly.
“Yes. I would like to call you Papa,” Mary breathed. Charles’ reaction was stunned silence. After a long agonising moment, Mary bit her bottom lip and looked over her shoulder at her mother, unsure. “Mama said this would be a fine birthday gift for you.”
Just as Laura was contemplating stepping forward to reassure them both, Charles swept their child up into his arms and hugged her fiercely. She retreated, giving them both this minute alone, their shared tears mingling with their quiet laughter.
It was Mrs Clark who finally shattered the moment. She scraped her chair back and cleared her throat noisily. Laura hid her smile when she saw a damp lace handkerchief clutched in her mother’s fingers.
“Come, Mary,” she ordered with mock sternness. “Let’s go and invite Walt for our special birthday breakfast.”
“I never expected Mary to accept me quite so easily,” Charles confessed after they had left.
“You’re a good man, Charles. Children often perceive these things quicker than adults.”
He pulled her close and kissed her. It wasn’t the chaste kiss that she had expected. Instead it was open-mouthed and passionate. She returned it fervently.
“Is your mother taking Mary to school today?” he asked suggestively as his kisses descended to her neck, his hands attempting to gather her skirts up so he could touch her bare legs.
“You aren’t spent?” she asked with more than a hint of mirth.
He chuckled. “I’m obviously afraid of getting old and am out to prove something.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about the white hair in Mary’s drawing,” she cried, turning pink at her daughter’s innocent insult.
“I went prematurely grey a long time ago. I don’t think I’ll take offence at this stage of the game.”
“What game?”
He chuckled. “Never mind,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. Then, his expression turned serious. “You’re sure about this? You’re okay with Mary calling me ‘Papa’? Your first husband…”
“Would be happy,” she insisted. “I’m the one who remembers him. It will be up to me to ensure she knows what a good man he also was, and pass onto her as many happy memories of him as I can.”
He kissed her again; this time just a sweet brush of his lips across her forehead.
“You’re a good woman, Laura Lattimer.”
She buried her head into his chest, letting herself relax.
When she heard Mary’s excited chatter echoing across from the barn she lifted her head and met his loving gaze.
“Last night…You were trying to start another family?”
“No,” he said clearly.
She arched an eyebrow. “No?”
“Yes, you’re right, I was hoping you’d get pregnant last night. I’m sorry. Blame the realisation that I’m turning forty. But no, I’m not trying to start another family. I’m hoping to add to this one. Mary’s correct--I’m her Papa. I’m your husband. I’m even Mrs Clark’s son and Walt’s pseudo brother. I want to add to this family, to enrich it, not to start a separate one.”
Laura felt her tears flowing freely. “I know you think I’m not old, but in 1897, I am. It may not happen.”
He bent his head and they kissed again, not even bothering to stop when the rest of the family noisily re-entered the kitchen.
“Mama! Papa!” Mary complained until they finally parted.
“Even if it doesn’t happen,” Charles whispered in her ear, “I’m going to enjoy the benefits of our efforts.”
She slapped him playfully and turned to assist her mother with their meal, only to have his arm reach out and stop her progress.
She turned back and looked up at him expectantly.
“It’s my birthday, and all my gifts have been beautiful. But don’t forget, you are the most beautiful gift of them all.”
Mary chose that exact moment to grab Charles by the hand and drag him over to the head of the table.
She wiped the tears from her eyes as he sat, happily chatting to Walt and Mary as Mrs Clark busied herself with serving their breakfast feast.
She hadn’t realised that on his birthday, she would receive so many gifts herself.