Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ikissdhimbck) wrote2013-07-02 06:42 pm
ikissdhimbck) wrote2013-07-02 06:42 pm
Entry tags:
OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin Pt. 2
[a little after this...]
She looks for reasons to stay in the stables as late as possible, but eventually she can dally no longer. They're practically sparkling, and all the animals are in for the night. Beaut's cooled down after her ride around the lake, and is cocking her ear at Kate like she knows something the woman doesn't.
All right, you nag.
True to his word, Tommy's waiting for her when she gets back to her room. They share a meal, quietly conversing about New York, and 'anniversary' plans; she reminds him it's getting close to her anniversary here, and how she's been thinking about leaving awhile. They seem a little shy to set the other off, and so discussions stay light and open. It's late by the time they're through.
He invites her to come to bed, and she sends him ahead, saying she'd like to stay up and read for a spell. He doesn't fight her on it, perhaps because he knows she's uncomfortable about something. She typically sleeps well enough when Tommy's here, but he's usually worn her out before they drop off; it doesn't seem worth the gamble tonight.
She's only ten pages through her book when he starts to sigh, all the while tossing and turning. He coaxes her to join him, and with a good deal of long-suffering patience, she closes her book and does just that.
He's got her wrapped up in his arms when she finally drops off.
It feels nice.
For the first time in months, she dreams about her daddy dying: his body carried up the hill to her childhood home, breast stained red, dust curling in the air as they drop him at her feet. Trout's there, telling her she brought it on herself. Sam reaches out to her with that questioning tone, the last words he ever spoke ringing in her ears.
She's on a boat. Sam's face explodes beside her, iron rain pattering on her skin. She's screaming, but she isn't making a sound. Trout overturns Sam's boat into a sea of scorpions, writhing and snapping, some big enough you could ride. She's caught in a maelstrom of them, and the more she fights the more it feels like quicksand, the more her limbs feel heavy and dumb. She fights harder, and harder, but she's sinking.
The sky is red, and in the middle of it all a hole opens up, sucking everything up like so much refuse.
She looks for reasons to stay in the stables as late as possible, but eventually she can dally no longer. They're practically sparkling, and all the animals are in for the night. Beaut's cooled down after her ride around the lake, and is cocking her ear at Kate like she knows something the woman doesn't.
All right, you nag.
True to his word, Tommy's waiting for her when she gets back to her room. They share a meal, quietly conversing about New York, and 'anniversary' plans; she reminds him it's getting close to her anniversary here, and how she's been thinking about leaving awhile. They seem a little shy to set the other off, and so discussions stay light and open. It's late by the time they're through.
He invites her to come to bed, and she sends him ahead, saying she'd like to stay up and read for a spell. He doesn't fight her on it, perhaps because he knows she's uncomfortable about something. She typically sleeps well enough when Tommy's here, but he's usually worn her out before they drop off; it doesn't seem worth the gamble tonight.
She's only ten pages through her book when he starts to sigh, all the while tossing and turning. He coaxes her to join him, and with a good deal of long-suffering patience, she closes her book and does just that.
He's got her wrapped up in his arms when she finally drops off.
It feels nice.
For the first time in months, she dreams about her daddy dying: his body carried up the hill to her childhood home, breast stained red, dust curling in the air as they drop him at her feet. Trout's there, telling her she brought it on herself. Sam reaches out to her with that questioning tone, the last words he ever spoke ringing in her ears.
'...Kate?'
She's on a boat. Sam's face explodes beside her, iron rain pattering on her skin. She's screaming, but she isn't making a sound. Trout overturns Sam's boat into a sea of scorpions, writhing and snapping, some big enough you could ride. She's caught in a maelstrom of them, and the more she fights the more it feels like quicksand, the more her limbs feel heavy and dumb. She fights harder, and harder, but she's sinking.
The sky is red, and in the middle of it all a hole opens up, sucking everything up like so much refuse.
no subject
There's a smile on her lips as sleep starts to blacken the edges of consciousness. Maybe, just maybe, the picture of Tommy surrounded by fire can be replaced with him laughing, talking, joking around — rescuing kittens. It certainly helps put her at ease, knowing there are good days, knowing that he has friends whom he trusts.
Her head falls heavy against his shoulder; her breathing grows shallow. She's holding on to consciousness if only because it's polite, and because she doesn't want him to stop talking.
Her fingers twitch against his heart.
no subject
It feels good...to do good.
And sometimes he's reminded that even the little things feel good.
Like staying up with Kate as she falls asleep in his arms.
Eventually he's unable to open his eyes even if he tried, and he can't keep track of his words anymore. He won't remember the last thing he talked about, as his voice becomes a garbled mumble that rumbles in his throat. Soon enough, his breathing falls in synch with hers, slow and steady.
It's been a long night, one that's not over yet -- but as long as she wants him here, he's not going anywhere.