ikissdhimbck | OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin

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OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin

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The sun's just setting when Kate heads in from the stables. Lately, she's been staying out after dark, but tonight she needs to clean up before Tommy stops by.

Her room is untidy, a 'tee-vee' and 'dee-vee-dee player' on a rolling cart stationed in front of her bureau. There's a small stack of films lying nearby. The table in the corner is covered with dirtied glasses and half-empty — or completely empty — liquor bottles, used tissues, and cupcake wrappers.

She unlocks the door and steps in, greeted by the expectant mewling of her cats. Taking off her gun belt, she leaves it on the chest by the foot of her bed, and heads into the washroom. She feeds the boys, and takes a quick bath.

By the time Tommy stops by, the bed will be made and the trash collected, the glasses stacked to be washed later and the bottles pushed aside. A few tissues escape her notice under the T.V. cart, but at least she feels mostly presentable.

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With the something tucked into his jeans back pocket, Tommy comes straight out of his apartment into Milliways, where he checks the time -- it's late evening, as he estimated it would be. So before going upstairs, he picks up two hot chocolates in paper to-go cups from the bar. Looks like he felt like it after all.

Hands full, he taps on Kate's door with the toe of his boot.

Kate frowns at the door. That's an odd knock.

She pulls her revolver from its holster on her way to the door, finger on the trigger. She's only expecting Tommy, but it doesn't hurt to be safe. There's a knot in her stomach when she turns the lock.

He'll see her visibly relax.

"C'mon in."

She opens the door wide for him, standing to one side. Her hair is wet and braided, draped over one shoulder, and she's wearing her sole hoodie zipped up to hide the fact that she doesn't have on a corset. It's been getting a lot of use this past week.

Edited 2013-07-28 05:26 (UTC)

"Hi..."

He looks at her with wide eyes and brows high as he steps inside, noting the gun in her hand. Not shaken, just surprised and concerned. He knows she's only defending herself.

"I can give you both cups, you don't hafta stick me up. I'm real easy that way."

He leans in to give her a peck on the lips, the faint taste of chocolate already on his.

She smirks as he pulls away.

"Well, if I'd known you'd already started on yours, I wouldn't have bothered."

She closes and locks the door. She's rarely barefoot, but tonight she is. She looks a little awkward as she turns around, overlarge hoodie and bare toes, relaxing her trigger finger. She crosses the room and leaves the gun by her belt.

"Make yourself comfortable. Thank you."

It's been a while since she's had a hot cocoa.

Awkward? Nah, to him she just looks cute.

"Hey, for all I know you could be some kinda cocoa desperado."

After handing her cup to her with a grin, he wanders over to the TV cart, instantly drawn to the stack of DVDs.

"What've you been watching?"

He starts poking through them, sipping his drink at the same time.

She breathes a soft laugh, tearing the little plastic tab in her cup lid and taking a careful sip.

"Oh. Ah, a friend'a mine happened t'mention there were moo-vees based on the books of one'a my favorite authors."

She doesn't mention this 'friend' was Howard Stark. After all Tommy's pouting this afternoon, she figures it'd be safer leaving that bit out.

In the stack he'll find The Time Machine, both the 1960 and 2002 versions, The Island of Dr. Moreau, War of the Worlds, both the 1953 and 2005 versions, The Invisible Man, and so on.

She sits on the edge of her bed.

"Seemed like a good time t'stay in an' watch 'em."

"I ain't into sci-fi that much, but some of these are considered classics. At least in my time they are. The old War of the Worlds was pretty cool. Heard the new one with Tom Cruise wasn't as good, just a lot of flashy special effects."

At her last statement, he returns the DVD he'd been perusing back to the stack.

"You watched 'em all by yourself?"

"I liked the ones that were in color, but the stories in the black an' whites were better."

She grins to herself. Sci-fi is one of her preferred genres. Has been ever since she picked up her first Jules Verne tome.

She glances at him, sobering.

"Yeah. Yes. They were, ah — good distraction."

"Yeah, that's usually the case with remakes, too. They're never as good as the originals."

He takes a sip of cocoa, also sobering, a slight crease between his brows. Feeling guilty for adding to her need of a distraction this past week.

Ambling over to the bed, he sits beside her, holding his cup on his knee, and breathes a short sigh.

"Listen, I'm-- I just wanted to say sorry for-- y'know, the trip to New York going the way it did. I just-- I thought I could help."

She watches him.

"S'all right."

She sets her own cup in her lap, cradled between both palms. The warmth spreads through her skin.

"Did you an' your daughters have a good time?"

He shrugs and nods.

"I guess. We watched a movie, had dinner. They liked your biscuits. Lou didn't wanna pass 'em off as his own, though, so he said he got the recipe from a friend. They also didn't believe me when I told them I helped make the butter. Or that I helped, period."

He snorts a chuckle, shaking his head a little before taking a sip of his cocoa.

She smiles. She even manages a soft laugh at his closing remark.

"S'good. M'glad y'had a good evenin'."

She keeps her gaze on her knees and her voice soft. She wanted to be stronger; she wanted that to be a better day. It just wasn't in the hand she was dealt.

Edited 2013-07-29 04:58 (UTC)

He covers her knee with a hand, doubly warm from holding his cup of cocoa, and squeezes gently.

"Wish you could've stayed. --Well. Wish I hadn't messed up. I mean, thinking back on it now, I'm like, jeez, what an idiot I was. I shouldn't have pushed you into all that. It's just-- I wasn't sure what you wanted, and-- I dunno, I guess my idea of a day out wasn't the same as yours. 'M sorry."

"No, don't—"

She shakes her head, a deep furrow in her brow. She can't help wondering if things might've gone different if he'd asked her out now, or if she'd known a little more going into it.

"Don't 'pologize, Tommy. That is, don't 'pologize for anythin' other'n tryin' t'give me what I wanted. Y'didn't hafta do anythin'. An' I jus' thought — I thought y'wanted t'be with me. That's all."

She feels silly saying it out loud.

"I — I'm no good this month. S'jus' too much. S'why I hide out, an' don't go 'round seein' anybody; I'm jus' no good, but I wanted t'be with you. I wanted t'try."

He's a little confused at first.

"But I-- I did wanna be with you, honey..."

They had breakfast with Lou and Tommy's dad, and then they went sightseeing in the heart of the city, walking through midtown along Fifth Avenue with all its fancy stores and skyscrapers and people and tourists and--

Yeah.

With a deep sigh, he puts his arm around her shoulders. She doesn't have to explain herself.

It's a little disheartening to think that the only place they can really be together is right here in this room, within these four walls.

"Maybe we could try again another time. Somewhere else."

She tilts her forehead against his shoulder, closing her eyes.

"Yes, perhaps."

She doesn't even know what they are to each other without worrying on anniversaries and special occasions, what he will remember and what he won't, what he's doing because he wants to and what he's doing because he thinks she wants him to. It's an awful lot of pressure.

"Are you disappointed?"

He shrugs (not with the shoulder under her head).

"No, not really. Not now, anyways. I was then, but not 'cause of you, of course. I mean, sure, I was disappointed that you couldn't stay for dinner or meet the girls, but more like I was disappointed in myself for-- well, y'know, messing up. And not making things better for you."

Squeezing her shoulder, he kisses the top of her head.

"But anyways. What happened happened, right? No sense dwelling on it now. And coming from me, that's sayin' something, 'cause you know me, honey, I'm a huge dweller. I can dwell on things from here to kingdom come. You give me a problem and you bet I will dwell the hell out of it."

A beat.

"Except for this. This, I won't dwell on. Also, the word 'dwell' really starts to sound funny when you say it too many times."

He's rambling.

"Shut up."

It's murmured affectionately, albeit still quietly. It's difficult thinking back on her anniversary. In addition to the memories and the sadness, this year ain't been the best for her anxiety. And as much as talking to Dr. Lecter has helped since she's been back, it was still overwhelming being in a big, busy city on the worst day out of the year.

She wishes he'd stop apologizing. It really ain't his fault she's got no control over herself these days.

"You don't gotta make things better for me, Tommy. It ain't your duty."

He confuses her so much these days. Things were simpler before Christmas, when she still knew what he wanted. Now, she hasn't got a clue.

"Right."

Silenced for the moment, he purses his lips and presses them against her hair, still damp from her bath and smelling sweet.

"I know it ain't my duty, honey, but-- well, I'm still your friend. And honestly, you're pretty much my closest friend here, so I just wanna help. That's all."

She closes her eyes. There's a microscopic tug at the corner of her mouth, as she revels in the intimacy of his touch. She removes one hand from her hot cocoa, and rubs his thigh.

"Don't say that too loud. I got this feelin' Lou could jump out at any minute an' pout at me."

Lou has an awful powerful pout.

"I love that y'feel that way, Tommy. But even I don't know what y'could do."

He breathes a warm chuckle into her hair, his lips twisting slightly. Lou might be secure enough in his standing with Tommy, but pouting wouldn't be out of the question.

Hugging her closer, he rests his cheek against the top of her head.

"I know I can't fix everything like magic or come up with some miracle cure, and I sure as hell ain't no fancy doctor with all the know-it-all textbook answers, but-- anytime you wanna tell me anything, you know I've been down those roads, too."

The jury's still hung on how she feels about them fancy doctors with all their textbook learning, but the way he tucks her against his side, body radiating warmth, is salve enough.

She sighs.

"Y'wanna know what's goin' on with me? I've seen the world end, an' I've seen what happens to a world after it ends; I've killed men, I've been responsible for the men I love most dyin', an' I've had t'leave everythin' in the dust t'spend my life runnin'. I couldn't sleep for months after Sam died. I felt like somebody else; I am somebody else. An' now I'm — I'm jus' so tired."

She turns her face against his arm, burying her nose in the scent of him.

"I keep seein' everyone I love die. I keep seein' everythin' I love burn. An' sometimes, Tommy, all I want you t'do is hold me in your arms, an' help me sleep. No promises, no demands, no cures. All I want's for you t'be with me. T'hear y'breathin'. T'feel your heart beatin'."

To reassure herself there's something worth fighting for. To remind herself she's alive.

He's never judged her or pitied her, never questioned her choices or ever told her to get over something. All he's ever done was to try to make her feel safe, and wanted, and cared about. Maybe he'd made some mistakes along the way, and maybe he hadn't always been successful, but his intentions were always good.

He rubs her arm, keeping her pressed against his side. Not only is holding on something he's been trained to do when someone's life depends on it; it's a part of his nature, too.

"I can do that."

She relaxes.

Talking isn't always easy, but just being can do a world of good. She has responsibilities when she's elsewhere. People who rely on her, who have expectations, or whom she can't bear the thought of disappointing. When she's with Tommy, she's free to just be.

She doesn't want that to change.

She sucks in a deep breath, and sits up straight. For a time, all she does is sip at her cocoa, lost in thought.

"Y'gotta tell me what y'want too, y'know. I can't always figure it out."

His hand comes to rest on her shoulder as they sit quietly. The cocoa fills him with sweet warmth, just as having Kate be near him does the same.

Then, cup held in his lap, he considers what she says.

"I guess I-- I kinda want the same things you do. To stop running for a while. To get away from the stuff in my head. To sleep. You help me sleep, too, y'know. And that's a huge thing for me 'cause any time that I can spend where I don't feel angry or guilty, or I don't see the faces of people I couldn't save, or I don't hear-- the voices-- I--"

His voice suddenly cracks.

Shit.

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