It's late. It's incredibly late, Horatio correct himself dully as he peels himself from his greatcoat in the quiet dark of the front hall. The stillness in the house isn't new; it's been settled here for some hours.
It would be best, he knows, to simply take himself to bed. His body is still radiating chill from the cold night air, his limbs are stiff and aching with the exhaustion of the last few months, and the quiet in his home is a genuinely precious thing he doesn't want to upend. In the morning, he'll still be fresh returned from sea. In the morning, the quiet would wake into a beautiful outpouring of devotion he doesn't begin to deserve--a product, perhaps, of the odd twists familial bonds seemed to put in a person.
But his careful, quiet feet bring him all the same to the door of the nursery.
His son will still be there in the morning. His son will be utterly wonderful in the morning, bright and cheerful and lifting arms toward him as if he hasn't been gone for months. There's no need to wake the boy now with cold fingers and stubbled cheeks and the faintest shake in his step.
But he finds he's delicately pushing the door open all the same. Maybe it will be enough to see the sleeping form for a moment.
Richard will be asleep, when he first arrives. Richard will be asleep, at first, when he opens the door. But the light from the hallway, gentle as it is, will still fall upon the bed-- and Richard is about as good at sleeping as his father is.
So the little form in the bed will stir quite distinctly, when the door opens.
For a heartbeat, it feels like enough. There's that mess of hair, already growing wild and unruly. There's that round little face, utterly peaceful in sleep. There's his son, still gently present in the universe, almost exactly where he had left the boy.
Then Richard shifts, just slightly, and Horatio has to admit silently to himself that it very much isn't enough.
His hum is tuneless and entirely soft as he steps properly into the little room, levering the door most of the way shut again as silently as possible. It will be enough if he can kneel beside the bed for a moment, hushing at that scrunched little face.
Some piece of Horatio, of course, is furious with himself for waking the boy. Some piece of him is fully aware, prickling and bitter, that a better man would have let well enough alone rather than causing this commotion--that the sort of father who deserved to be greeted with this beautiful flicker of unapologetic love.
"Easy, Richard."
Still, surely only a monster would ignore those little hands reaching plaintively toward him. Surely, the child's sleep already ruined, the crueler tack would be to abandon the boy utterly.
His fingers are likely still rather chilly, and his arms are just slightly awkward after so long away. Horatio shifts all the same to carefully pluck his son from the bed, dragging Richard in close against his chest.
There's no one here to see. There's no reason to fear that this moment will ever be known to anyone besides himself and the child in his arms.
Horatio's breath still shakes briefly as he ducks his head over Richard's, pressing a careful kiss to the boy's hair as he shifts the little weight in more snugly against his chest.
The ache that briefly flashes through him is difficult to pin down. How often had Richard wondered if his father would return while he slept? How often had the boy fought off sleep out of the fear that his father would be gone when he awoke.
"I will, Richard."
Possibly even in this room. Possibly even still settled into the careful pacing he's beginning now, his son tucked in flush against his heart.
What an odd thing. The gesture is so little, just a brief press of the boy's lips against his cheek, but the odd sensation that floods through Horatio is immense.
He doesn't deserve this gentle affection. He doesn't think he could keep on with his life if he weren't allowed this quiet devotion.
"...good night, petal."
They'll have to find him here in the morning, still pacing the room with Richard curled in against his chest.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-01-04 03:26 am (UTC)It would be best, he knows, to simply take himself to bed. His body is still radiating chill from the cold night air, his limbs are stiff and aching with the exhaustion of the last few months, and the quiet in his home is a genuinely precious thing he doesn't want to upend. In the morning, he'll still be fresh returned from sea. In the morning, the quiet would wake into a beautiful outpouring of devotion he doesn't begin to deserve--a product, perhaps, of the odd twists familial bonds seemed to put in a person.
But his careful, quiet feet bring him all the same to the door of the nursery.
His son will still be there in the morning. His son will be utterly wonderful in the morning, bright and cheerful and lifting arms toward him as if he hasn't been gone for months. There's no need to wake the boy now with cold fingers and stubbled cheeks and the faintest shake in his step.
But he finds he's delicately pushing the door open all the same. Maybe it will be enough to see the sleeping form for a moment.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-04 03:36 am (UTC)So the little form in the bed will stir quite distinctly, when the door opens.
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Date: 2019-01-04 03:49 am (UTC)Then Richard shifts, just slightly, and Horatio has to admit silently to himself that it very much isn't enough.
His hum is tuneless and entirely soft as he steps properly into the little room, levering the door most of the way shut again as silently as possible. It will be enough if he can kneel beside the bed for a moment, hushing at that scrunched little face.
It might be enough.
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Date: 2019-01-05 04:06 am (UTC)Well, not entirely awake. He's still mostly in dreamland. But he's certainly conscious enough to smile brightly and shuffle to reach for his father.
"Papa."
no subject
Date: 2019-01-05 06:28 pm (UTC)"Easy, Richard."
Still, surely only a monster would ignore those little hands reaching plaintively toward him. Surely, the child's sleep already ruined, the crueler tack would be to abandon the boy utterly.
His fingers are likely still rather chilly, and his arms are just slightly awkward after so long away. Horatio shifts all the same to carefully pluck his son from the bed, dragging Richard in close against his chest.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-07 04:05 am (UTC)"Y're home."
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Date: 2019-01-08 02:58 am (UTC)Horatio's breath still shakes briefly as he ducks his head over Richard's, pressing a careful kiss to the boy's hair as he shifts the little weight in more snugly against his chest.
"That's right, my own. That's right. Sleep, hm?"
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Date: 2019-01-09 02:00 am (UTC)A big yawn interrupts the sleepy murmur, and he nuzzles in even more as his eyes start to shut again.
"--when I wake up?"
no subject
Date: 2019-01-09 03:11 am (UTC)"I will, Richard."
Possibly even in this room. Possibly even still settled into the careful pacing he's beginning now, his son tucked in flush against his heart.
"I promise."
no subject
Date: 2019-01-10 03:54 am (UTC)Though he is going to have to wiggle just a moment to press a sleepy kiss against his father's cheek before settling into his chest again.
"G'night."
no subject
Date: 2019-01-12 04:16 am (UTC)He doesn't deserve this gentle affection. He doesn't think he could keep on with his life if he weren't allowed this quiet devotion.
"...good night, petal."
They'll have to find him here in the morning, still pacing the room with Richard curled in against his chest.