Morning (Prompt 01, F/K/V)
Morning
F/K/V, G, 620 words
It always takes Fraser a few moments after the early morning light streams in the window and wakes him to remember exactly where he is. The warm, heavy tangle of limbs with his, the asynchronous exhalation of breath beside him are at once confusing and disorienting. He blinks and looks around him, taking in what he sees and smells and hears, and remembers that he is home.
Remembering who he is, in those moments after he knows for certain where he is and what his life is, at that moment, is a much more difficult task. He knows that he is happy. He has experienced bouts of happiness before, but the feeling has now settled through his skin and into his bones, and become a part of him that he can't shed.
Fraser knows that he is still, at heart, a man bound by his principles. He still believes in justice at any cost, and will go to near-fanatical distances to secure it. He knows that he believes in duty and honor and loyalty, and he has almost never wavered from those beliefs. Almost never. In many ways, though, he is not the man he once was. He is not the man who let an unworthy woman steal his heart and very nearly his life, although that experience is as important to who Benton Fraser is as the death of his mother and his father at the hands of criminals.
He lives in Chicago, which surprises him almost every day in that it is starting to feel like home. It is a different definition of home than he has used in the past, but it is just as wild and untamed and terrifying as his first, and he loves it more fiercely every day. When he was offered the opportunity to return to Canada, it didn't take him long to realize that he wanted to be in Chicago. There are many things and many people who bound him to the city.
He is no longer the man he was when he learned of his father's death. While his relationship with his father was strained, at best, during his life, his death was the impetus that Fraser didn't know that he needed. Fraser is content, and he is loved, and most of all, he is astoundingly grateful.
Stranger still, Fraser is not alone for the first time in his life. He has not been alone for a number of years, even if he has felt that way from time to time. He has been surrounded by family and friends and co-workers since he arrived in Chicago, a refugee from a country that no longer wanted him and an orphan from a family that was destroyed by criminals. Ray Vecchio's departure had been a crushing blow, but he was not alone even then, not truly.
The bed shifts, and Fraser is startled out of his contemplation by the sounds of waking, the feeling of the bed moving. He feels hands clutching at the sheets near his waist and the legs tangled in his shifting. "Hey. Morning, Benny," Ray says quietly, his voice endearingly scratchy with sleep, and Fraser can't find words. All he can manage is to reach out and pull a half-asleep and startled Ray close.
"Good morning," Fraser finally whispers, but Ray has fallen back to sleep, snoring softly. He feels an arm drape across his waist and a heavy sigh, and he turns his head slightly to see Ray Kowalski face down in the pillow, drooling and sleeping soundly. Fraser lets himself close his eyes and drift off, taking comfort in knowing that he is where he wants to be. Nothing more and nothing less.
My prompt table
F/K/V, G, 620 words
It always takes Fraser a few moments after the early morning light streams in the window and wakes him to remember exactly where he is. The warm, heavy tangle of limbs with his, the asynchronous exhalation of breath beside him are at once confusing and disorienting. He blinks and looks around him, taking in what he sees and smells and hears, and remembers that he is home.
Remembering who he is, in those moments after he knows for certain where he is and what his life is, at that moment, is a much more difficult task. He knows that he is happy. He has experienced bouts of happiness before, but the feeling has now settled through his skin and into his bones, and become a part of him that he can't shed.
Fraser knows that he is still, at heart, a man bound by his principles. He still believes in justice at any cost, and will go to near-fanatical distances to secure it. He knows that he believes in duty and honor and loyalty, and he has almost never wavered from those beliefs. Almost never. In many ways, though, he is not the man he once was. He is not the man who let an unworthy woman steal his heart and very nearly his life, although that experience is as important to who Benton Fraser is as the death of his mother and his father at the hands of criminals.
He lives in Chicago, which surprises him almost every day in that it is starting to feel like home. It is a different definition of home than he has used in the past, but it is just as wild and untamed and terrifying as his first, and he loves it more fiercely every day. When he was offered the opportunity to return to Canada, it didn't take him long to realize that he wanted to be in Chicago. There are many things and many people who bound him to the city.
He is no longer the man he was when he learned of his father's death. While his relationship with his father was strained, at best, during his life, his death was the impetus that Fraser didn't know that he needed. Fraser is content, and he is loved, and most of all, he is astoundingly grateful.
Stranger still, Fraser is not alone for the first time in his life. He has not been alone for a number of years, even if he has felt that way from time to time. He has been surrounded by family and friends and co-workers since he arrived in Chicago, a refugee from a country that no longer wanted him and an orphan from a family that was destroyed by criminals. Ray Vecchio's departure had been a crushing blow, but he was not alone even then, not truly.
The bed shifts, and Fraser is startled out of his contemplation by the sounds of waking, the feeling of the bed moving. He feels hands clutching at the sheets near his waist and the legs tangled in his shifting. "Hey. Morning, Benny," Ray says quietly, his voice endearingly scratchy with sleep, and Fraser can't find words. All he can manage is to reach out and pull a half-asleep and startled Ray close.
"Good morning," Fraser finally whispers, but Ray has fallen back to sleep, snoring softly. He feels an arm drape across his waist and a heavy sigh, and he turns his head slightly to see Ray Kowalski face down in the pillow, drooling and sleeping soundly. Fraser lets himself close his eyes and drift off, taking comfort in knowing that he is where he wants to be. Nothing more and nothing less.
My prompt table