Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ikissdhimbck) wrote2013-03-24 01:36 am
ikissdhimbck) wrote2013-03-24 01:36 am
Entry tags:
OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin
[following this:]
It's a familiar sight.
Kate unlocks the door, and tugs Tommy inside. She hasn't let go of him the whole way upstairs, as if some part of her were afraid if she did he'd turn around and walk away. He's scaring her. Something awful has happened, and she doesn't know what it is, and she doesn't want him to be alone.
"Go take a seat at the table."
Her voice is gentle, pitched sweet enough to soothe a scared child. She's not looking for argument, however. Her eyes, clear and sharp, stay focused on his.
Please.
It's a familiar sight.
Kate unlocks the door, and tugs Tommy inside. She hasn't let go of him the whole way upstairs, as if some part of her were afraid if she did he'd turn around and walk away. He's scaring her. Something awful has happened, and she doesn't know what it is, and she doesn't want him to be alone.
"Go take a seat at the table."
Her voice is gentle, pitched sweet enough to soothe a scared child. She's not looking for argument, however. Her eyes, clear and sharp, stay focused on his.
Please.
no subject
It's nice.
While she's away in the washroom, he suddenly...kind of...notices that his sweater smells funny.
Oh, so that's why-- okay.
He sits up and tugs the turtleneck up over his head. He's wearing a sleeveless undershirt, so it won't be that awkward. He folds up the offending sweater and leaves it on the seat of a chair before stretching out on the bed again.
Finally, Kate comes to bed. His eyes are closed, one hand resting on his stomach, the other by his side. He can feel her climb in next to him, keeping her distance.
He wishes it wasn't this way.
But maybe these are baby steps. Back to the way it was.
Maybe.
He'll drift off quicker than he'll realize, and sleep deeper than he has in months.
And he'll wake up with a stab of pain in his right shoulder.
It's very early the next morning, well before the sun has risen, but probably around the time Kate gets up to do her chores. As Tommy lays there, his senses come back to him slowly, before everything that happened last night comes back in a dizzying rush.
At this hour, and in his state, he has no head for starting a conversation or continuing one from last night. He's still angry, he's still confused, he's still sore. He still hasn't resolved a goddamn thing with Kate. And in hindsight, he's not sure if he's ready to try again. Not now.
Tommy grits his teeth against his aches and pains and rolls out of bed as quietly as he can. He pulls on his boots and sweater, then carefully moves Kate's gun belt (he remembers the way its worn edges dug into his skin) off his jacket.
He can't tell if Kate is still sleeping or just pretending to be asleep. He doesn't want to wake her, but at the same time he feels like a heel for leaving like this. She deserves more, and better, except he can't find anything to say that would make up for everything he should've done differently.
Crossing the room to her desk, he scribbles a note on the first blank piece of paper he finds, trying not to make his already sloppy handwriting completely illegible in the dim light.
I'm sorry I had to go.
But thank you.
We'll talk again some time if you want to.
-T
Christ, he feels like a jackass.
p.s. I feel like a jackass. I'm sorry.
He leaves it at that, or else he'll end up sticking around and saying something wrong again. It's way too early in the morning for that.
He slips out the door, quietly shutting it behind him, hoping that maybe, eventually, she'll leave it open for him again someday.