Hemingway. (ernestoic) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2016-04-16 12:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~abigail knightly, ~ernest hemingway |
Who? Hemingway, Abi, Charlie
Where? Their apartment
When? Saturday evening
What? Comfort and grooming
Rating? Umm... maybe high.
Open? No
Despite his own reservations, and Abi's reassurance that he didn't have to do anything he wasn't comfortable with, Hemingway had been taking the medication Dr Cuddy had given him without fail. The first one had been the hardest to swallow, metaphorically speaking, and despite how queasy it seemed to make him, it got easier the more it became habitual.
He hadn't spoken about it since that first day. He didn't mention it when it made him sick, he didn't say anything when he repeatedly failed to drag himself out of bed in the morning, and when he found himself trembling for no particular reason, he just cuddled into her that little bit closer in the night until it passed again. It would get better, it was already easing up a little. They had a sort of silent understanding that if it was too much, then he would tell her.
But what he hadn't taken into account was just how perceptive a toddler could be. This evening Hemingway had fallen asleep after dinner, and now he was only half-awake, vaguely aware of Abi telling Charlie to get ready for bed. After about five minutes, there were little feet padding down the hall and stopping at the bedroom door, leaning over the threshold, a curious child with a book in hand who didn't understand why papa wasn't going to read him a story tonight. After thinking about it for a minute, Charlie darted into the room and hopped into the bed beside him, dropping the book in favour of wrapping his little arms around his neck. Hemingway couldn't help but smile at the sweet gesture, and pulled the boy into a cuddle.
"Papa sick?"
"No, Charlie. It's okay," he told him, although instantly saw in his worried and confused little expression that he was going to need more than that to ease his concern. "A little bit, but it's okay because the doctor has given me medicine now, so I'll get better real soon, okay?"
"Oh. Okay," Charlie settled a bit more at the grown up explanation. Charlie petted at his head as if he were the parent for a moment. "Gotta takes even if taste bad," he told him.
"That's right," Hemingway laughed softly.
"Okay. When better we get more fisses?"
"Lots of them," he agreed, pressing a little kiss to the kid's forehead.