An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
AND with little ado, here's my gift for @fatigay!! A Christmas Edgeworth-centric fic, to answer the prompt: narumitsu, hurt/comfort!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, I hope you like it!
Work Summary:
He patiently waits beneath warm sheets for the feeling to abate, for the realization to settle with the regular flow of memories that will explain how he arrived here. It’s not so unsurprising a sensation, he reasons, surveying minute cracks in plaster, when he has only been in Europe for so long. Sleeping in hotels can often be a disconcerting experience. Soon, he’s sure, he will recognize his surroundings.
Moments pass, but curiously, the feeling does not fade with helpful memories of settling in this space the night before, of falling asleep in this bed. As his mind casts aside the heavy cloak of sleep, clarity bleeding into his awareness like color, he comes to realize that the ceiling is not, in fact, the ceiling of his Parisian hotel room.
Where—?
And the low snoring in his ear is not, in actuality, the rumble of an oddly guttural air conditioning unit.
Oh, my Lord, he thinks blankly. Did I invite a stranger into my room last night?
He flips frantically through the scrapbook of his Very Sober memory of the night previous, and thinks, with something approaching panic, that there is no way in hell.
