Callie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
calliope_love) wrote2011-01-16 09:06 am
calliope_love) wrote2011-01-16 09:06 am
Entry tags:
19: Spontaneous Rainsworth Sap! Mmm.
Title: And Nodding By the Fire
Rating: So very G.
Disclaimer: They ain't mine.
Summary: One of Break's moments of mild disconnect coincides with a flare-up of his adorable paternal streak. Title taken from the same poem I used in Full of Sleep, but this wasn't written to be a companion to it. You may consider it one if you like.
Length: 1,554 words
Break wakes up suddenly when his head slips along the back of the armchair he’d perched himself in earlier that evening. He yawns almost immediately after that, his short doze not enough to even dent the sleepiness that has been plaguing him since dinner. He really is getting old. Falling asleep sitting up in a chair like that; how embarrassing.
Except — ah. Sharon and Liam are sound asleep as well, Sharon in her own chair and Liam with his head pillowed in his arms, leaning against the arm of the chaise.
It’s nostalgic enough that Break simply leans back and watches them for a while. The three of them sitting quietly together in the parlor, fire burning merrily, each buried in their own pursuits but enjoying the company of the others — it’s a setting that happens more and more rarely these days, since Oz came back out of the Abyss. Break is kept busy, despite all the work he avoids, and Liam is finding it harder and harder to escape the clutches of Rufus Barma and Pandora. It’s Pandora work he has spread over the table in front of him just then, in fact. Bringing the work with him is really the only way he can manage to get away anymore.
Break thinks it’s a shame. He can’t remember the last time he saw Liam read anything for the fun of it. His birthday’s coming up; Break could get him a new book, but that would probably just make him feel guilty. No time to read it.
There’s never enough time.
Right now, though — moments like these are moments he can steal and hide away in his pockets, tucked away all for himself. Everything is so quiet he doesn’t have to remember that there’s any world at all outside the Rainsworth manor. He’s here and Liam’s here and Sharon’s here, and if he tilts his head and squints just right, perhaps he’ll see them as children again.
It certainly seems possible. They grew up so fast the children he first met have to still be in there somewhere. But he doesn’t try it. He’s not sure if he’ll be disappointed when it doesn’t work.
So he just sits, and watches them each in turn, letting his mind pick at all the years that stretch out behind him. It’s something he does his best not to do, because it always comes as a shock when he realizes just how many years there are, which is why he’s been going on about how old he is so often lately. But it’s okay if it’s the Rainsworth years, and Liam, and Sharon. And just now, maybe it’s okay to feel sleepy, too, even though there’s so much he has to do and not much time left in which to do it.
Break watches them until the clock down the hall, so far away that they wouldn’t hear it if they were talking, begins to strike the hour. Then he counts. Twelve. Midnight. It really is awfully late. They all should have been in bed some time ago. Liam especially.
“My, my,” he says, ever so softly, to Emily. “I suppose we ought to put the kids to bed, hm?”
Sharon is first, because Sharon is easiest; her body is still so small and he’s had so much practice that carrying her from that chair to her bed without waking her is as simple and familiar to him as placing a hat on his head. One of the maids has turned her bed down for her; all he has to do is place her in it, remove her shoes, and tuck her in. She’ll be miffed at having slept in her dress tomorrow, and even more miffed at having been carried to bed, but Break loves her ire as much as he loves the rest of her. He simply wouldn’t be Xerxes Break without his violent little pretend-sister. He whispers a goodnight to her as he slips out — just because she won’t hear it doesn’t mean it won’t matter if he doesn’t say it.
After that it’s back to the parlor, quickly, and Liam will have to wake up. Once Break would have carried him as well, but that was many years ago, when he was still properly short. No way is Break dragging six whole feet of him down the hall.
Well. He might if the building were on fire. It isn’t.
So he kneels down in front of Liam, in between the chaise and the coffee table, and calls to him softly. The younger man’s shoulder gets a gentle squeeze, and Liam wakes with a bit of a start. Catching sight of the white hair, he reaches out to fiddle with it, an impulse he’s not awake enough to deny.
Break lets him. He’s entirely accustomed to the gesture. Sharon was never the only one fixated on his hair; Liam’s been playing with it from the start as well. He’s just more discreet about it. Especially now that there’s no long ponytail for him to latch onto.
After a moment, Break says fondly, “Come along, Mister Liam. It’s time for bed, and you’re too big for me to carry now.”
“Xerxes Break,” Liam says blearily, scowling and dropping his hand. “I am not a child.” He proceeds to shove one fist under his glasses, pushing them up while he rubs at his eye, looking just as he did when he was eleven and did the exact same thing every time someone woke him up. The cheek he was laying on has run afoul of one of his earrings — there’s a red circular mark stuck in his face.
“I know you’re not,” Break tells him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the smile from coming out. “Come along.”
Liam sits up and turns his scowl toward his paperwork. Before he can start fussing over organizing it properly, Break sweeps it into one big pile, and then goes sauntering down the hallway with it. It is not time to organize the paperwork. It is time for too-tall Liams to be in bed. The Liam in question sighs in agitation, but follows without comment.
His visit tonight was a surprise, so his own bed hasn’t been made ready for him yet. Break dumps the paperwork on the desk and turns the covers down while Liam slips into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. Liam always gets tucked in, too, when he stays at Rainsworth. He started objecting to the treatment when he was sixteen, and finally gave up on getting Break to stop when he was twenty-two. Now he’s twenty-six, and Break gets a halfhearted glare as he climbs into bed, but Liam says nothing. It’s hard to nag when you’re yawning.
“Goodnight, Mister Liam,” Break says, drawing the covers up to Liam’s chin and shoving them firmly around his shoulders, so they’ll be hard to get out of. He has to be at least a little obnoxious, after all. “Sweet dreams.”
“Xerk.” Liam works his arm out with great effort, and rubs his eye again; then he says, “You seem distracted, tonight.”
“I’m just thinking,” Break replies, taking Liam’s glasses and putting them on the nightstand. “That’s all.”
“Not about anything bad?”
“No. Not about anything bad.”
“Okay.” Liam reaches out again, aiming for Break’s hair, but this time he catches his fingers and pulls back. “Sorry.”
“You know I don’t mind.” He reaches out to ruffle Liam’s own hair, before backing away and crossing the room to the door. “Sleep well,” he calls back as he shuts it.
“You too,” Liam tells him. Break sees him stretching out under his covers, letting himself really be his full height for a moment. He’ll be asleep again in a few minutes. Break shuts the door.
For a moment he stands right outside it, forehead resting against the wood. It’s not that he wants them to be children again, and it’s certainly not that he wants to be as unstable as he was when they were smaller. Just — it was nice when Sharon was too young to manage to be a proper lady, and when Liam thought nothing of hitching a ride on his back. He’s been tall for so many years now, but…looking up to see his eyes is still so strange. Sharon used to come up only to his waist. Sometimes he wonders if they’re not all still little when he’s not looking and they only get tall when he’s around, to disorient him.
Obviously what he really needs to do right now is swing by the kitchen for some cookies, and then make a crummy mess of them on his bed; all while sitting with his boots on the coverlet.
A hand to his shoulder — Emily sits secure in her spot. Then he’s off down the hall, heading for the kitchen. Everything will be back to normal tomorrow, and he’s so very, very sleepy. Best to get those cookies as soon as possible and get to bed. He’ll need the energy if he’s going to make a proper nuisance of himself when things get back to their proper time in his head. Always so busy, Xerxes Break.
Rating: So very G.
Disclaimer: They ain't mine.
Summary: One of Break's moments of mild disconnect coincides with a flare-up of his adorable paternal streak. Title taken from the same poem I used in Full of Sleep, but this wasn't written to be a companion to it. You may consider it one if you like.
Length: 1,554 words
Break wakes up suddenly when his head slips along the back of the armchair he’d perched himself in earlier that evening. He yawns almost immediately after that, his short doze not enough to even dent the sleepiness that has been plaguing him since dinner. He really is getting old. Falling asleep sitting up in a chair like that; how embarrassing.
Except — ah. Sharon and Liam are sound asleep as well, Sharon in her own chair and Liam with his head pillowed in his arms, leaning against the arm of the chaise.
It’s nostalgic enough that Break simply leans back and watches them for a while. The three of them sitting quietly together in the parlor, fire burning merrily, each buried in their own pursuits but enjoying the company of the others — it’s a setting that happens more and more rarely these days, since Oz came back out of the Abyss. Break is kept busy, despite all the work he avoids, and Liam is finding it harder and harder to escape the clutches of Rufus Barma and Pandora. It’s Pandora work he has spread over the table in front of him just then, in fact. Bringing the work with him is really the only way he can manage to get away anymore.
Break thinks it’s a shame. He can’t remember the last time he saw Liam read anything for the fun of it. His birthday’s coming up; Break could get him a new book, but that would probably just make him feel guilty. No time to read it.
There’s never enough time.
Right now, though — moments like these are moments he can steal and hide away in his pockets, tucked away all for himself. Everything is so quiet he doesn’t have to remember that there’s any world at all outside the Rainsworth manor. He’s here and Liam’s here and Sharon’s here, and if he tilts his head and squints just right, perhaps he’ll see them as children again.
It certainly seems possible. They grew up so fast the children he first met have to still be in there somewhere. But he doesn’t try it. He’s not sure if he’ll be disappointed when it doesn’t work.
So he just sits, and watches them each in turn, letting his mind pick at all the years that stretch out behind him. It’s something he does his best not to do, because it always comes as a shock when he realizes just how many years there are, which is why he’s been going on about how old he is so often lately. But it’s okay if it’s the Rainsworth years, and Liam, and Sharon. And just now, maybe it’s okay to feel sleepy, too, even though there’s so much he has to do and not much time left in which to do it.
Break watches them until the clock down the hall, so far away that they wouldn’t hear it if they were talking, begins to strike the hour. Then he counts. Twelve. Midnight. It really is awfully late. They all should have been in bed some time ago. Liam especially.
“My, my,” he says, ever so softly, to Emily. “I suppose we ought to put the kids to bed, hm?”
Sharon is first, because Sharon is easiest; her body is still so small and he’s had so much practice that carrying her from that chair to her bed without waking her is as simple and familiar to him as placing a hat on his head. One of the maids has turned her bed down for her; all he has to do is place her in it, remove her shoes, and tuck her in. She’ll be miffed at having slept in her dress tomorrow, and even more miffed at having been carried to bed, but Break loves her ire as much as he loves the rest of her. He simply wouldn’t be Xerxes Break without his violent little pretend-sister. He whispers a goodnight to her as he slips out — just because she won’t hear it doesn’t mean it won’t matter if he doesn’t say it.
After that it’s back to the parlor, quickly, and Liam will have to wake up. Once Break would have carried him as well, but that was many years ago, when he was still properly short. No way is Break dragging six whole feet of him down the hall.
Well. He might if the building were on fire. It isn’t.
So he kneels down in front of Liam, in between the chaise and the coffee table, and calls to him softly. The younger man’s shoulder gets a gentle squeeze, and Liam wakes with a bit of a start. Catching sight of the white hair, he reaches out to fiddle with it, an impulse he’s not awake enough to deny.
Break lets him. He’s entirely accustomed to the gesture. Sharon was never the only one fixated on his hair; Liam’s been playing with it from the start as well. He’s just more discreet about it. Especially now that there’s no long ponytail for him to latch onto.
After a moment, Break says fondly, “Come along, Mister Liam. It’s time for bed, and you’re too big for me to carry now.”
“Xerxes Break,” Liam says blearily, scowling and dropping his hand. “I am not a child.” He proceeds to shove one fist under his glasses, pushing them up while he rubs at his eye, looking just as he did when he was eleven and did the exact same thing every time someone woke him up. The cheek he was laying on has run afoul of one of his earrings — there’s a red circular mark stuck in his face.
“I know you’re not,” Break tells him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the smile from coming out. “Come along.”
Liam sits up and turns his scowl toward his paperwork. Before he can start fussing over organizing it properly, Break sweeps it into one big pile, and then goes sauntering down the hallway with it. It is not time to organize the paperwork. It is time for too-tall Liams to be in bed. The Liam in question sighs in agitation, but follows without comment.
His visit tonight was a surprise, so his own bed hasn’t been made ready for him yet. Break dumps the paperwork on the desk and turns the covers down while Liam slips into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. Liam always gets tucked in, too, when he stays at Rainsworth. He started objecting to the treatment when he was sixteen, and finally gave up on getting Break to stop when he was twenty-two. Now he’s twenty-six, and Break gets a halfhearted glare as he climbs into bed, but Liam says nothing. It’s hard to nag when you’re yawning.
“Goodnight, Mister Liam,” Break says, drawing the covers up to Liam’s chin and shoving them firmly around his shoulders, so they’ll be hard to get out of. He has to be at least a little obnoxious, after all. “Sweet dreams.”
“Xerk.” Liam works his arm out with great effort, and rubs his eye again; then he says, “You seem distracted, tonight.”
“I’m just thinking,” Break replies, taking Liam’s glasses and putting them on the nightstand. “That’s all.”
“Not about anything bad?”
“No. Not about anything bad.”
“Okay.” Liam reaches out again, aiming for Break’s hair, but this time he catches his fingers and pulls back. “Sorry.”
“You know I don’t mind.” He reaches out to ruffle Liam’s own hair, before backing away and crossing the room to the door. “Sleep well,” he calls back as he shuts it.
“You too,” Liam tells him. Break sees him stretching out under his covers, letting himself really be his full height for a moment. He’ll be asleep again in a few minutes. Break shuts the door.
For a moment he stands right outside it, forehead resting against the wood. It’s not that he wants them to be children again, and it’s certainly not that he wants to be as unstable as he was when they were smaller. Just — it was nice when Sharon was too young to manage to be a proper lady, and when Liam thought nothing of hitching a ride on his back. He’s been tall for so many years now, but…looking up to see his eyes is still so strange. Sharon used to come up only to his waist. Sometimes he wonders if they’re not all still little when he’s not looking and they only get tall when he’s around, to disorient him.
Obviously what he really needs to do right now is swing by the kitchen for some cookies, and then make a crummy mess of them on his bed; all while sitting with his boots on the coverlet.
A hand to his shoulder — Emily sits secure in her spot. Then he’s off down the hall, heading for the kitchen. Everything will be back to normal tomorrow, and he’s so very, very sleepy. Best to get those cookies as soon as possible and get to bed. He’ll need the energy if he’s going to make a proper nuisance of himself when things get back to their proper time in his head. Always so busy, Xerxes Break.