![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A Day of a Different Sort
Oct. 8th, 2006 07:08 amShe couldn't quite believe that it had been a whole year. Everything they'd built around them, from schools to rooms to houses and now their own small family, if Fred traveled far enough back, one year ago today felt a lot like its point of origin. Or at least when they'd all stepped on the gas.
It was Wesley's birthday.
Fred's toes curled in the bed as she shifted, studying the whole of the bed in the early morning light. Everything so very, very different, but she found herself wanting to change so very little of it. Smaller details maybe, the ones that danced on the edges. But that was all.
She managed to slip from the bed without waking anyone up, and headed down to the kitchen. Why she blushed then, when there wasn't even anyone to see, or possibly take personal benefit in teasing, Fred had no idea. She brushed the back of a hand to her cheeks, and attempted to brush the color away. Then it was just the matter of forcing her stomach to settle long enough that she could start cooking breakfast. A real breakfast, with biscuts and gravy, bacon, ham, grits and waffles. Fred didn't attempt waffles. She just didn't have Methos' wrist for them. She tucked a small envelope underneath the plates of food, all loaded onto the breakfast tray, and started a much slower walk back up the stairs. She couldn't attack the steps two at a time at the moment, her usual preference.
Reaching the bedroom Fred settled the tray at the food of the bed, but didn't make a move to wake either of them up. After all, birthdays weren't that frequent an even. A person deserved to be able to wake up when they wanted to. To ease into that day more than any of the others. Fred curled up in a chair near the window, perfectly content to ponder annual events, and everything that happened in between.
It was Wesley's birthday.
Fred's toes curled in the bed as she shifted, studying the whole of the bed in the early morning light. Everything so very, very different, but she found herself wanting to change so very little of it. Smaller details maybe, the ones that danced on the edges. But that was all.
She managed to slip from the bed without waking anyone up, and headed down to the kitchen. Why she blushed then, when there wasn't even anyone to see, or possibly take personal benefit in teasing, Fred had no idea. She brushed the back of a hand to her cheeks, and attempted to brush the color away. Then it was just the matter of forcing her stomach to settle long enough that she could start cooking breakfast. A real breakfast, with biscuts and gravy, bacon, ham, grits and waffles. Fred didn't attempt waffles. She just didn't have Methos' wrist for them. She tucked a small envelope underneath the plates of food, all loaded onto the breakfast tray, and started a much slower walk back up the stairs. She couldn't attack the steps two at a time at the moment, her usual preference.
Reaching the bedroom Fred settled the tray at the food of the bed, but didn't make a move to wake either of them up. After all, birthdays weren't that frequent an even. A person deserved to be able to wake up when they wanted to. To ease into that day more than any of the others. Fred curled up in a chair near the window, perfectly content to ponder annual events, and everything that happened in between.
