|A Kind of Comfort
Author: CampionSayn PM
It is a wonder, what will come in the night after terror. A drabble. A tiny, tiny drabble.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Hurt/Comfort/Family - Moses & Rameses - Words: 390 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 05-06-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8091910
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: A Kind of Comfort
Summary: It is a wonder, what will come in the night after terror. A drabble. A tiny, tiny drabble.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or any sort of ownership to the movie they come from. Nor do I make any sort of money from writing this little piece of whatever.
Warning: Wretched, horrible hurt/comfort fluff that comes from the brother's teen years.
Dedication: To KookyCake, who asked for this little thing. Yay for that, I suppose. It's short, though, and I'm sorry for that, but there is only so much fluff I can do with biblical images in my head.
Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never saw before
Say "please" before you open the latch,
go through, walk down the path.
-Instructions: Fragile Things- by Neil Gaiman.
There is an ugly feeling in him. He notices this feeling even before it comes wriggling out of his throat like millions of little tiny maggots ready to sprout wings, become flies and then devour a field of perfect grains or a herd of fat cattle.
The puddle he makes on the floor beside his bed causes the feeling to intensify and he makes the disgusting puddle larger. His throat burns horrible and raw.
Light branches into the room and slithers up his bed covers like a golden snake and he is unaware of the figure in the hallway until bigger hands than his own pressed against his eyes to catch salt water touch his shoulder and he jumps a little. Whimpers cannot cease coming from his throat and he doesn't even bother to tell his elder to go away because he is such a comfort and why would he want to banish that away?
He is ashamed, obviously so, as he looks at what had previously been inside of him only moments ago and wraps his arms around his knees. Bigger arms—what of his brother is not bigger than him?—wrapped and looped swiftly around from behind him, resting over his chest and stomach.
His brother's head settles atop his own, whispers in the dark soothing, wanted, helpful.
Smooth fingers cling to the elder prince's wrist, the pinky settled at the crook of a little incline of bone, sinew, flesh, inner soul and water.