Post by Cass on Dec 2, 2012 10:36:34 GMT 10
Title: Presents
Rating: PG
Prompt: #1, homecoming
Summary: Kel waits up.
Notes: For Katty, cause she demanded it.
At a bell past midnight, Kel should be asleep. Not at her desk, looking over old reports from the clerics. It’s an excuse to wait up, anyways, the kind of thing no one would begrudge her for leaving until after Midwinter. Any chance of him being home tonight is small, or at least that’s what the last letter had told her, but it arrived two weeks ago and she’s allowed a scrap of hope this time of year.
Neal had left hours ago, bringing his daughter with him—“past her bedtime,” he’d said with a rueful smile—and Kel had nodded, waved him off.
“I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast,” she’d said; what she was hoping for hung in the air between them for a moment until Neal smiled briefly and left.
“Happy Midwinter,” Kel says to herself and pushes her chair back, ready to wait for the morning. But it’s like she’d summoned it, because seconds later there’s a knock on the door.
“Figured I wouldn’t barge in on you,” Dom says, covered in melting snow, a wicked light in his eyes. “Thought you might be up to something important.”
His wedding ring glints gold in the candlelight, matching the one on the fourth finger of her left hand. She doesn’t quite run to him, but it’s a close thing.
“Happy Midwinter,” she breathes, nose to nose with him. He grins wider than anyone she’s seen in weeks and leans in the last inches, kisses her thoroughly.
“Lady Knight,” Dom says, “looks like you’re my Midwinter present.”
“No,” Kel says, attempting to disentangle him from his many scarves, “I think you’re mine.”
They’re late to breakfast.
Rating: PG
Prompt: #1, homecoming
Summary: Kel waits up.
Notes: For Katty, cause she demanded it.
At a bell past midnight, Kel should be asleep. Not at her desk, looking over old reports from the clerics. It’s an excuse to wait up, anyways, the kind of thing no one would begrudge her for leaving until after Midwinter. Any chance of him being home tonight is small, or at least that’s what the last letter had told her, but it arrived two weeks ago and she’s allowed a scrap of hope this time of year.
Neal had left hours ago, bringing his daughter with him—“past her bedtime,” he’d said with a rueful smile—and Kel had nodded, waved him off.
“I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast,” she’d said; what she was hoping for hung in the air between them for a moment until Neal smiled briefly and left.
“Happy Midwinter,” Kel says to herself and pushes her chair back, ready to wait for the morning. But it’s like she’d summoned it, because seconds later there’s a knock on the door.
“Figured I wouldn’t barge in on you,” Dom says, covered in melting snow, a wicked light in his eyes. “Thought you might be up to something important.”
His wedding ring glints gold in the candlelight, matching the one on the fourth finger of her left hand. She doesn’t quite run to him, but it’s a close thing.
“Happy Midwinter,” she breathes, nose to nose with him. He grins wider than anyone she’s seen in weeks and leans in the last inches, kisses her thoroughly.
“Lady Knight,” Dom says, “looks like you’re my Midwinter present.”
“No,” Kel says, attempting to disentangle him from his many scarves, “I think you’re mine.”
They’re late to breakfast.
Also, Kat demanding K/D fluff? This may be a midwinter miracle 
