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perfectworrytitle: The Sweet to My Mean
'verse: People's Republic of Heaven
community:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerverse + ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
originalfic100
prompt: Phase #03: Challenge #05: Father's Day + Table A - 027 Parents
characters: Gabriel, Kristopher, Salomé & Jude
rating: K
summary: Kristopher greets his father at the door and Salomé tells it like it is.
notes: starting to post some of my, uh… original 'verse thing around here. enjoy? what's this writing in my writing journal? WHO KNEW?
Kristopher pounced on Gabriel as soon as his father opened the door, throwing his arms around Gabriel's waist.
"Hi, Glory," he chirped. He hugged Gabriel tightly and buried his face in the crisp white shirt he wore, clinging as though his father had been gone for weeks instead of only for a few hours.
Gabriel put an arm over his son's shoulders and was rewarded with an affectionate squeeze. He nudged Kristopher gently back. His son had caught him just as he came inside, and the rain was blowing in through the open door. Kristopher made room for his father and loosened his embrace. He put his fingers through his father's belt loops and stood on his feet. Reaching up on tip toes, he was barely able to stand tall enough to give his father a welcome home kiss, even with Gabriel leaning down.
Gabriel lifted his son up, holding him beneath his arms, and carried him the rest of the way into the house. Kristopher laughed with delight. When set back down on the carpet of the dining room, he hugged Gabriel again and didn't let go until Gabriel reached aound him to the unused dining room table.
Gabriel exchanged his keys for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter waiting on the table. He took one from the pack and lit it carefully, wary of his son's fine golden hair.
Kristopher shook his head with disgust and then hid his face against his father's shirt. He covered his mouth and nose with one hand and kept his other hand on Gabriel's belt loop. Cigarette in his mouth, Gabriel smoothed his son's hair back apologetically. Kristopher gave him a gentle head butt in reply.
"Don't smoke in my house," came a friendly accusation. Salomé's voice startled Gabriel out of his fond reverie. She had a cigarette in one he hand and an ash try on the window sill beside here and there were index cards in an elaborate tarot spread in front of her customary seat at the kitchen table.
Gabriel looked up at his niece. She had been left in his care when she was not much older than Kristopher was now, but they never had the kind of loving relationship where she welcomed him home with an enthusiastic hug. Gabriel didn't blame her.
She shrugged a hello and turned back to her work. Jude, seated across from her, waved to Gabriel without really looking up from one of Salomé's cards.
Kristopher took Gabriel's free hand and lead him to the living room, where he had been sitting at the coffee table with his brother. Gabriel crouched down to see the what Kristopher had been painting.
Gabriel knew he would be too biased to accurately judge his son's artistic skill, but Kristopher enjoyed painting and Gabriel cherished every piece.
"It's for you," explained Kristopher, holding up his most recent work. He looked expectantly up at his father. "Can we put it on the fridge?"
The refrigerator had been empty when Gabriel first moved in with his niece, save for a box of baking soda and a bag of coffee beans. There certainly had been no childish drawings stuck on the front with colorful magnets. Everything changed since Kristopher and his brother had come to live with them in the house on the edge of oblivion.
Kristopher proudly hung the painting next to many of the others. He had carefully written to Glory, from Kristopher. He never called Gabriel "father," only by his name or Glory - a diminutive pet name Salomé had given him long ago.
"Thank you, Kristopher," said Gabriel. He gave his son another hug, which Kristopher returned warmly. He buried his face against his father again, breathing in the comforting scents of rain and cigarette smoke.
Over Kristopher's head, Gabriel made eye contact with Salomé. She had turned away from her research and watched him carefully. Her eyes were narrowed, thoughtful but not suspicious. Gabriel gave her a pleading look; he felt helpless in the face of such unconditional love from his son - helpless and undeserving. He made such a mess of raising her. He didn't deserve a second chance with such a sweet boy.
"No," Salomé told him one night when he confessed to her his secret fears. "No, Glory, you don't deserve him as your son." Gabriel knew he could count on her to be honest. She continued, "but he deserves a father, and he's chosen you."
'verse: People's Republic of Heaven
community:
writerverse + originalfic100 prompt: Phase #03: Challenge #05: Father's Day + Table A - 027 Parents
characters: Gabriel, Kristopher, Salomé & Jude
rating: K
summary: Kristopher greets his father at the door and Salomé tells it like it is.
notes: starting to post some of my, uh… original 'verse thing around here. enjoy?
Kristopher pounced on Gabriel as soon as his father opened the door, throwing his arms around Gabriel's waist.
"Hi, Glory," he chirped. He hugged Gabriel tightly and buried his face in the crisp white shirt he wore, clinging as though his father had been gone for weeks instead of only for a few hours.
Gabriel put an arm over his son's shoulders and was rewarded with an affectionate squeeze. He nudged Kristopher gently back. His son had caught him just as he came inside, and the rain was blowing in through the open door. Kristopher made room for his father and loosened his embrace. He put his fingers through his father's belt loops and stood on his feet. Reaching up on tip toes, he was barely able to stand tall enough to give his father a welcome home kiss, even with Gabriel leaning down.
Gabriel lifted his son up, holding him beneath his arms, and carried him the rest of the way into the house. Kristopher laughed with delight. When set back down on the carpet of the dining room, he hugged Gabriel again and didn't let go until Gabriel reached aound him to the unused dining room table.
Gabriel exchanged his keys for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter waiting on the table. He took one from the pack and lit it carefully, wary of his son's fine golden hair.
Kristopher shook his head with disgust and then hid his face against his father's shirt. He covered his mouth and nose with one hand and kept his other hand on Gabriel's belt loop. Cigarette in his mouth, Gabriel smoothed his son's hair back apologetically. Kristopher gave him a gentle head butt in reply.
"Don't smoke in my house," came a friendly accusation. Salomé's voice startled Gabriel out of his fond reverie. She had a cigarette in one he hand and an ash try on the window sill beside here and there were index cards in an elaborate tarot spread in front of her customary seat at the kitchen table.
Gabriel looked up at his niece. She had been left in his care when she was not much older than Kristopher was now, but they never had the kind of loving relationship where she welcomed him home with an enthusiastic hug. Gabriel didn't blame her.
She shrugged a hello and turned back to her work. Jude, seated across from her, waved to Gabriel without really looking up from one of Salomé's cards.
Kristopher took Gabriel's free hand and lead him to the living room, where he had been sitting at the coffee table with his brother. Gabriel crouched down to see the what Kristopher had been painting.
Gabriel knew he would be too biased to accurately judge his son's artistic skill, but Kristopher enjoyed painting and Gabriel cherished every piece.
"It's for you," explained Kristopher, holding up his most recent work. He looked expectantly up at his father. "Can we put it on the fridge?"
The refrigerator had been empty when Gabriel first moved in with his niece, save for a box of baking soda and a bag of coffee beans. There certainly had been no childish drawings stuck on the front with colorful magnets. Everything changed since Kristopher and his brother had come to live with them in the house on the edge of oblivion.
Kristopher proudly hung the painting next to many of the others. He had carefully written to Glory, from Kristopher. He never called Gabriel "father," only by his name or Glory - a diminutive pet name Salomé had given him long ago.
"Thank you, Kristopher," said Gabriel. He gave his son another hug, which Kristopher returned warmly. He buried his face against his father again, breathing in the comforting scents of rain and cigarette smoke.
Over Kristopher's head, Gabriel made eye contact with Salomé. She had turned away from her research and watched him carefully. Her eyes were narrowed, thoughtful but not suspicious. Gabriel gave her a pleading look; he felt helpless in the face of such unconditional love from his son - helpless and undeserving. He made such a mess of raising her. He didn't deserve a second chance with such a sweet boy.
"No," Salomé told him one night when he confessed to her his secret fears. "No, Glory, you don't deserve him as your son." Gabriel knew he could count on her to be honest. She continued, "but he deserves a father, and he's chosen you."
