Drabbles; War and Child? :D
"Do you even remember George Town?" the silver haired detective asked of him one morning.
The sun was just bleeding through the strings of rain dribbling down their second story window, and he knew Ewan would undoubtedly be awake in a few hours. How a child could commit themselves to rise so early on a Saturday he didn't understand, save for that he knew their son well enough to understand his enthusiasm for being able to spend time with both of his fathers at once.
Turning to settle on his side, facing Greg, he thought. His memory was not something permeated by holes, but, while George Town was present, the events therein were indeed absent. "No," he answered, watching the man's dark eyes carefully. "It must have been pretty bad if I don't."
"It was," the other man replied, and he knew better than to take that as a joking matter. Greg didn't often admit when things were sour - preferring to fix them than let them overcome him. That he was admitting to this, even years later, was not insignificant. "You were our one contact, our one chance to get a hold of that old general from Borneo. And we found you nearly skinned at the safe house we had arranged for you two." Settling a hand on his arm, Greg pulled him in close, nuzzling his face in what he recognized as a worried motion. "I thought the mission had been a failure. But we found the general in a rat-hole underneath the floorboards where you'd hidden him. I still couldn't believe we could go home without being dismissed immediately, but then you pulled through."
Humming, he nuzzled the other man in return, knowing that from there the story was full in his memory. And it was no unpleasant memory, either. "You stayed with me while the rest of your platoon returned with the general," he recalled. "You took me to Kudat as soon as it was safe to move me. Kept me in a shanty by the beach and caught me a wild betta fish that we kept in a jar in the window."
Barely noticing that he'd closed his eyes at the warm memory, he opened them to find Greg still looking at him, examining him as if entranced by his words, though the memory itself was shared. "Would you ever go back?" the Englishman asked, and finally he began to understand the other man's meaning.
Their son had begun asking about their travels, and he was reaching the age where it was due time to begin sharing their world with him. Frightening as that prospect was, he knew that now the dangers they frequented in both of their youths had long since passed.
"I don't know if I would want to go back to George Town," he admitted, earning himself an agreeing and appreciative peck on the lips. "But I would go back to Kudat, and I would take Ewan there."
"No bed rest this time," Greg replied jokingly, knowing how adamant he had been about avoiding staying in bed for days in spite of his injuries the first time around.
Snorting, he curled an arm around the other man. "Are you joking?" he asked. "The entire point of vacation is for bed rest, and I intend to take full advantage this time around."
