[original: people's republic] Glass
Aug. 4th, 2012 08:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perfectworrytitle: Glass
verse: People's Republic of Heaven
community:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
writerverse & ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse & originalfic100
prompt: Phase #3: Challenge #28: Weekly Quick Fic #9 & "Murrini" & Table A - 073 "Light"
word count: 412
characters: Salomé, Gabriel & Kristopher
rating: G
summary: Salomé comes to understand that look in Gabriel's eyes when he looks at Kristopher.
notes: I've been jumping around in the timeline, but Kristopher is adopted by Gabriel shortly after this scene. They're at the MFA Chihuly: Through the Looking Glass exhibit. Kristopher's favorite is a real thing, and it's very cool.
"Do you miss things like this?" asked Salomé, as Gabriel ghosted his fingers over the glasswork piece. Priceless, but one could own it for mere millions.
Salomé never made a great secret of her opinions regarding Gabriel's tastes. She called him ostentatious, a vain peacock, and other less flattering names besides.
Except for Kristopher's exuberant design decisions, her house was simple: function over form, contrasting Gabriel's conspicuous style.
Salomé wasn't asking him to needle; Gabriel had a wistful look in his eyes, and she wanted to know why.
Her voice was soft, hesitant to break the studious, reverent quiet of the museum, even out here in the gift shop. In a corner, Jude was helping Kristopher find the perfect postcard to hang on their refrigerator alongside Kristopher's own artworks.
"It would get broken," said Gabriel with a shrug, while across the room Kristopher jumped to reach the card he wanted. Gabriel stuck his hands back in his pockets.
"You could leave," muttered Salomé, half to herself, leaving it to Gabriel to decide whether he would acknowledge the remark or not.
"I couldn't," he said. She looked up at him sharply, scanning his face for any hint of sarcasm. "I couldn't leave Kristopher."
Salomé watched Gabriel watching Kristopher with her eyes narrowed. Gabriel's expression was soft. It looked out of place on his sharp features; aristocratic nose and the thin line of his lips, always just this side of a disapproving frown. His eyes were sharp, quick to see flaws and his tongue was just as fast to voice them.
It wasn't snide disdain that she saw in Gabriel's face. Salomé had never seen him wear such an expression: frowning like he could faintly hear a song half-remembered.
Kristopher broke Salomé's quiet confusion, leaping at them and waving his postcard in the air with Jude in tow behind him. Kristopher held up the card for Salomé and Gabriel to see: a photo of his favorite exhibition piece, Persians, where he had leapt into puddles of light, basking in the stained glass tint on his skin. Gabriel had lifted him so that he could better see the details in each finely crafted glass bauble.
As Gabriel bent to see what Kristopher was showing him, the fluorescent lights played across his face and for a moment, he looked almost angelic. Salomé knew then what the look in Gabriel's eyes meant: it was the doting, gentle love of a father for his firstborn and only son.
verse: People's Republic of Heaven
community:
writerverse & tamingthemuse & originalfic100 prompt: Phase #3: Challenge #28: Weekly Quick Fic #9 & "Murrini" & Table A - 073 "Light"
word count: 412
characters: Salomé, Gabriel & Kristopher
rating: G
summary: Salomé comes to understand that look in Gabriel's eyes when he looks at Kristopher.
notes: I've been jumping around in the timeline, but Kristopher is adopted by Gabriel shortly after this scene. They're at the MFA Chihuly: Through the Looking Glass exhibit. Kristopher's favorite is a real thing, and it's very cool.
"Do you miss things like this?" asked Salomé, as Gabriel ghosted his fingers over the glasswork piece. Priceless, but one could own it for mere millions.
Salomé never made a great secret of her opinions regarding Gabriel's tastes. She called him ostentatious, a vain peacock, and other less flattering names besides.
Except for Kristopher's exuberant design decisions, her house was simple: function over form, contrasting Gabriel's conspicuous style.
Salomé wasn't asking him to needle; Gabriel had a wistful look in his eyes, and she wanted to know why.
Her voice was soft, hesitant to break the studious, reverent quiet of the museum, even out here in the gift shop. In a corner, Jude was helping Kristopher find the perfect postcard to hang on their refrigerator alongside Kristopher's own artworks.
"It would get broken," said Gabriel with a shrug, while across the room Kristopher jumped to reach the card he wanted. Gabriel stuck his hands back in his pockets.
"You could leave," muttered Salomé, half to herself, leaving it to Gabriel to decide whether he would acknowledge the remark or not.
"I couldn't," he said. She looked up at him sharply, scanning his face for any hint of sarcasm. "I couldn't leave Kristopher."
Salomé watched Gabriel watching Kristopher with her eyes narrowed. Gabriel's expression was soft. It looked out of place on his sharp features; aristocratic nose and the thin line of his lips, always just this side of a disapproving frown. His eyes were sharp, quick to see flaws and his tongue was just as fast to voice them.
It wasn't snide disdain that she saw in Gabriel's face. Salomé had never seen him wear such an expression: frowning like he could faintly hear a song half-remembered.
Kristopher broke Salomé's quiet confusion, leaping at them and waving his postcard in the air with Jude in tow behind him. Kristopher held up the card for Salomé and Gabriel to see: a photo of his favorite exhibition piece, Persians, where he had leapt into puddles of light, basking in the stained glass tint on his skin. Gabriel had lifted him so that he could better see the details in each finely crafted glass bauble.
As Gabriel bent to see what Kristopher was showing him, the fluorescent lights played across his face and for a moment, he looked almost angelic. Salomé knew then what the look in Gabriel's eyes meant: it was the doting, gentle love of a father for his firstborn and only son.
