Vorkosigan fic: Fishing in the Morning (Aral/Cordelia)
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misspamela asked for some Aral/Cordelia fic, so here is a bit of goofy early-morning domesticity. Aral/Cordelia. G rated. 600 words.
"You're really not awake at all, are you, love?"
Fishing in the Morning
Cordelia woke up in the dark when Aral mumbled, "Fishing."
It took her a moment to realize that she could hear Miles chattering down the hall, pausing at the usual intervals just long enough to breathe and listen to Bothari's brief interjections, which were inaudible at this distance. She closed her eyes, snuggling back into the pillow and enjoying the certain knowledge that she didn't have to get up until a much saner hour. Not only was she not taking Miles fishing, Miles would be off fishing until nearly breakfast time and therefore unavailable to cause crises requiring her attention in the house.
"Fishing," she agreed with a sigh.
Aral grunted, sounding already halfway back to sleep, but a few seconds later she felt him move off the bed. There was a low flare of light against her closed eyelids as he turned on a shaded lamp, and she opened her eyes to look.
He was standing with his back to her, wearing only some rather brightly-colored underwear. She grinned and shifted a little in the bed so she could lie comfortably and enjoy the view.
He opened the top drawer of the bureau and then stood there staring into it. Cordelia watched, amused, and caught the moment when his head dropped forward a fraction further, and the fingers of his left hand fell entirely open.
She pushed up on her elbows, summoned up her best Barrayaran accent--terrible but improving, Miles had informed her last week--and snapped, "Vorkosigan!"
He startled awake and looked sharply over his shoulder, then gave her a boyish grin that gave way almost instantly to a yawn. She yawned back around her own smile, watching him rub his hand through his hair.
He turned back to the drawer, this time putting a hand in to stir through the contents, but once again making no apparent progress toward dressing.
"This is a ploy to get me out of bed, isn't it," Cordelia said, steadying her voice against laughter or another yawn.
"Do I actually need socks to go fishing?" Aral replied, sounding no more than half-awake, his accent thick as lake mud. "We'll just wind up with our feet in the lake."
"If you're not wearing socks Miles won't see why he has to wear socks," Cordelia pointed out.
Aral didn't answer, but tilted his head, listening. Cordelia listened, too, and though she couldn't make out the words she could hear Miles trying to negotiate something and being repeatedly interrupted by Bothari.
"Damn," Aral murmured, and put both hands into the drawer. "Why don't any of my socks match?"
"How can you tell when you don't have your eyes open?" Cordelia asked, finally giving up and getting out of bed. She pressed up against his back and hooked her chin over his shoulder to peer into the drawer as he rummaged through its contents.
"Texture," Aral replied, tilting his head back to brush his stubble-rough cheek against hers. "S'what matters when you're wearing them anyway."
Sure enough, he was holding a sock in his left hand and rummaging around with his right through a stack of undershirts.
Cordelia couldn't help laughing then. "You're really not awake at all, are you, love?"
"Fishing," he replied with another yawn, and she leaned away from him just far enough to see his smile.
She reached past him and found a matching sock, pressing it into his hand. "Go on then, mighty hunter. Catch lots of fish."
He picked up an undershirt too, and twisted in her arms to lean against her, pressing a sleepy kiss to her throat.
"Tomorrow," he mumbled. "Tomorrow you are taking him orienteering."
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Oh, Aral. ::sigh::
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