Work Text:
Eyes closed, hearing deteriorated with age: the first thing I am aware of as I wake is his stiff shoulder and light sleep. Rain, then. He will be in pain today. Already is, even if not yet conscious enough to know it.
Warmth helps. The pain will dictate he spend the day wrapped in blankets. His soldier’s temperament will dictate he rise promptly and do so on the sofa rather than in bed.
I will ensure that within arms reach he is kept well-supplied with tea and writing-paper. The bees will not leave the hive for observation today in any case. With luck, instead of his arm breaching the blankets he will allow me to occupy his mind by reading to him. Which will be more tempting, a medical journal or a fairy-story of the type he is experimenting with writing?
His eyes open towards my face, and, unhesitating, his mouth cracks into a smile.