Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ikissdhimbck) wrote2011-05-14 07:29 pm
ikissdhimbck) wrote2011-05-14 07:29 pm
Entry tags:
AU: Western Texas - Gene Hunt - 1888 (pt. 2)
**NOTE: This is part of a plot arc that was meant to occur in Milliways over the Spring/Summer of 2011 in Bar Time. It has since become an AU, and should be treated as a standalone plot not associated with any game, and not fitting into Kate's continuity.**
The desert is muted by gray light. It's still early, a bit of a chill in the air while the sun takes its time creeping past the horizon. Somewhere nearby an owl is hooting, taking its last survey of the desert before it returns to its hole for the day.
The fire is crackling, warming up salt pork and grits, three eggs Kate managed to bring from the bar, and a small cast iron skillet of fresh cornbread. The horses are munching on their own breakfast, half the saddlebags have been repacked, and Kate's washing her face with cold water before she slips on her blouse. She's well and covered by a clean chemise and plain corset, but she's still mindful of Gene as he sleeps.
The desert is muted by gray light. It's still early, a bit of a chill in the air while the sun takes its time creeping past the horizon. Somewhere nearby an owl is hooting, taking its last survey of the desert before it returns to its hole for the day.
The fire is crackling, warming up salt pork and grits, three eggs Kate managed to bring from the bar, and a small cast iron skillet of fresh cornbread. The horses are munching on their own breakfast, half the saddlebags have been repacked, and Kate's washing her face with cold water before she slips on her blouse. She's well and covered by a clean chemise and plain corset, but she's still mindful of Gene as he sleeps.
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"It's important y'start off with a good meal. It'll be a long while 'fore we stop again."
And, if she were in the frame of mind to be completely honest, the way she carries on when she's on her own ain't exactly healthy. She drops weight, loses color; having Gene around for an excuse might end up better for her than him.
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'You do know you're not my mam, don' you? I've already got one of them, an' I'm a big lad now anyway. Know how t'tie me own shoelaces an' everythin'.'
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She eyes him sidelong.
"Y'gonna settle on one frame of mind, or am I gonna hafta brace myself for your fish-flopping the whole time you're out here?"
There isn't a lot of bite in the words themselves, but the sharp look that accompanies it could freeze fire.
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No, really. What?
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"What's the matter with you?"
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Is it her time of the month, or something?
'...nothin'.'
Beat.
'Why, wha's wrong with you?'
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If he says yes, she'll drop it. It isn't as if Gene's the most balanced person on a good day, she just wishes he could make up his mind whether he wants to kiss her or fuss at her.
Maybe both. But if that's the case, all it's serving to do is get her emotional hackles up.
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So he frowns again.
'Las' night you were talkin' t'me like I was four years old. I know I haven't been out before, but I'm not a bloody child. An' you were doin' it just then, too. So yeah, it's the same as last night.'
He bites some cornbread. It's good. He wasn't expecting that. Just like he wasn't expected a woman x number of years younger than him to start talking to him the way she has been. And he doesn't like being treated like he's stupid, and he doesn't like being coddled. He's a man. He can decide for himself what's best.
'An' if you're talkin' about changin' moods, you're in no position to point fingers.'
He says it almost incidentally. But it is, actually, the real problem.
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And then, following all that, a short hot burst of anger. She's quiet for a moment, corralling her emotions until she knows just what she wants to say.
Coolly:
"Gene? Why'd you come out here?"
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The answer to the question from her mouth is because I've wanted to be an Ol' West Sheriff since I were five years old, but he's not going to say anything as poncey as that. And anyway, he doesn't think that's what she was asking.
'An' now you're accusin' me of comin' out here to get into your knickers, is that it?'
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Ooh, the unbelievable ego on this man!
"Would y'answer the goddamn question?"
Despite her best efforts, she can't keep the hurt from sneaking out in her voice.
"It's just you an' me out here."
For god's sake, who does he think she'd honestly tell, anyhow? She's kept her mouth shut about him with her friends thus far, she's not about to go around repeating anything he says now.
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He looks down and spears a bit of pork.
'I wanted t'see Texas in this time.'
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Her tone is interrogative, bordering on accusatory. She'd march on, but he asked her a question, and even though it boils her hide to have to answer it she does anyhow.
"No. I'm not accusin' you of comin' out here just so's you could get in my knickers."
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His voice is rising, both in volume and in expression of frustration. Why ask why he wanted to come here if she was then going to get pissed off about it?
'What's the matter with you now?'
There's a pause, while a memory from the Milliways stables resurfaces, and he deflates a little.
'You think I came here 'cos I wanted t'be a tourist? Just for that?'
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She's never met anyone of such sensitive disposition before!
The change in his expression pulls her up short. A tourist? No. Except — well, perhaps that's just what it is.
"I dunno why y'came, Gene. If I did, I wouldn't have asked the question."
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Yeah, he's back to outraged. At least momentarily.
He puts his plate down, and takes a breath. He didn't come out here to fight all the time, that's for sure.
'Look. Last nigh' you were bloody all over me for abou' five minutes. An' then you backed off, an' that's fine. But then you bloody stand there an' say 'don't stay up on my account', like I'm jus' some random bloke you happened t'run into. Or like you're tryin' t'warn me to keep me hands off you in the night.'
It just screams 'keep your distance' to him, and he doesn't like it. Not after she laid herself on top of him and snogged his face off. Gene doesn't do well with mixed signals. He just doesn't have the patience for them.
'An' part of th' reason I came out here was because I said I'd help you.'
He stabs another bit of pork, and then raises his eyes to glare at her.
'Happy now?'
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He's lucky she hasn't put on her guns yet.
"Happy?"
She can't choose which outrageous statement she should be more upset about. It's ridiculous how frequent and fervent he gets her passions going. Unfortunately for him, she's ready to throttle him more oft than she is to 'snog his face off'.
"Gene. For once in your life, imagine the world doesn't revolve around you. D'you know how many people I've let come out my door?"
Each word comes out with force, measured and pointed.
"Two. D'you think I would let you three feet within this place if I didn't think y'could take care of yourself? Knowin' all you do 'bout me; knowin' how I feel when people get close?
"This ain't no movin' picture, Gene. This ain't no Gary Cooper serial; this is my world. A real world. With real people, an' real danger. I've seen every last person I care about die real deaths. An' you — Mister Invincible, Mister I-can't-die — you're gon' sit there an' tell me you're jus' so big for your britches you ain't in need of another momma, while you're invitin' me into your bed, an' pullin' me into your arms, an' puckerin' up givin' me the silent treatment 'cuz I say 'no'? Well, lemme tell you somethin', Gene. I do like havin' your hands on me. I do like the way y'feel, an' I do like the way you kiss. And I want. you. here. But d'you think you an' I's the only two people in this desert? D'you think we're the only ones out with horses, an' guns; buildin' campfires, makin' smoke? You ain't gonna be out here one day an' have me on my back, while ain't nobody's watchin' the horses!"
She draws back, looking away from him at last.
"Now, y'can be mad at me all you want; I ain't the one who said I wasn't out jus' for your knickers before I left t'come home, only t'sour at me now. An' if tellin' you t'sleep so I can take watch, an' cookin' us decent food 'fore we ride off makes me a henpecker, then so be it. I'd rather have you live and ornery than foolish an' dead!"
She lets that hang between them before she scrabbles to her feet. She can't sit here next to him right now.
"An' I really believed you thought more'a me than that!"
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'No, you bloody don't!'
He's on his feet a second after she is, knocking his breakfast over and not giving a damn.
'Don' you dare throw that shit at me an' then think you can bugger off! Did I say - did I once say? - that I though' you didn' want me here? Did I!?'
He knows full well she wouldn't have asked him out here if she didn't want to.
'All you had to bloody say was, 'I'm keepin' watch a bit, an' you can have a turn later if you want'. Just that. But you're a typical bloody woman an' have t'make life difficult! An' I wasn' tryin' t'get you on your back, you stupid tart. How many times do I have t'say it!?'
She is infuriating. He kicks his coffee mug as hard as he can, his face twisted up in rage. Because he obviously thinks more of her than she's giving him credit for, and he's sick of her throwing it in his face that he doesn't.
And also, if she'd just say what she bloody meant before this, it wouldn't have had to get this far.
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"I said I was gonna stay up a while. I said I'd feed the fire, an' wash up, an' I honestly didn't think I had t'spell it out for you!"
Why is everything such a battle of wills with him?
"An' you never once denied wantin' me last night. 'There's better ways'a keepin' warm,' 'why don't y'come massage my kinks out,' 'you want it as much as I do...'"
She flushes.
"If that's not what y'wanted, why couldn't y'just say what y'meant? Why can't you ever jus' say what y'mean?"
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'Are you deaf, or jus' bloody stupid!?'
He didn't think he had to spell it out for her, never mind the fact that he already has.
But he stops shouting. Only so his voice can turn to a low tone that's full of bite, but at least it's quieter.
'I have already told. You. More than once. Of course I want t'ruddy well shag you. I've not been subtle about it. We've talked about it, for Chris'sakes. But 'don't wait up' does not mean 'I'm keepin' a lookout'. It means 'bugger off an' don't keep me company'.'
At least where he's from. Or in his head, at least.
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Which is what she was trying to say. She wants him here. She wants him.
"It means 'look, y'just got struck at by a poisonous snake an' are tremblin' from head t'toe, covered in soap an' water; maybe y'should lie down an' rest while I take care'a things'!"
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'I do not. Need a bird. T'take 'care of things'.'
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Is he really going to play this card right now? In this moment?
She squares up to him, her 5'1 frame standing toe-to-toe with his, forcing him to either look down or stare at the big empty nothing that is the desert in growing daylight.
"Then y'picked the wrong 'bird'."
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'And I was not 'tremblin''.'
In any way. At all.
Ever.
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"Whatever y'say, Gene."
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'We done then?'
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She continues to stare at him, her expression unreadable.
"Let's break camp, then."
She eventually steps around him, walking in a tight-shouldered swagger to her abandoned breakfast plate.
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It's going to be a long day. But that's fine. He doesn't need her chit-chat to keep him occupied while he rides. She wants to go off in a sulk, that's fine with him.