ikissdhimbck | OOM: Milliways grounds

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OOM: Milliways grounds - lunch with Tommy

It's Tommy's first day working in the stables. Kate sets him up with a grooming bucket and shows him what to do, handling her morning chores between bringing him horses — though she works a little more aggressively than usual. It's just been a few days since Tommy fought with Voodoo, and despite his claims that he feels much better, the bruises have mottled and turned uglier colors. Kate's temper hasn't abated, and likely never will. God help Voodoo if he ever tries approaching her.

Once it's time for afternoon tea, Tommy suggests they go someplace quiet to eat together. It only takes her a moment to decide on the field out beyond the lake where she likes to take Beaut from time to time. Instructing him to finish up and put his tools away, she heads out first, on horseback. It's a typical sight around this time of day, so nobody else is likely to suspect she'll be meeting someone.

When Tommy does mosey along, he'll find her just a few paces away from the beaten path in a great field of dandelions and poppies. Beaut is grazing freely while she's unpacking a basket of food on a large checkered blanket.

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She's begun fiddling with the mobius strip necklace tucked under her blouse.

"I was humiliated."

And angry, and hurt, and confused, and frightened, and ashamed, and betrayed, and alone ...

"An' I didn't want to—"

He looks at her, and a switch inside him slowly flips. He reaches over and gently touches her back with a hand that would break Voodoo's nose all over again.

"You didn't want to what?"

Lord, that's a complicated question.

She didn't want to admit what had happened. She didn't want to sell Voodoo out — mostly 'cuz she didn't want Tommy to take his side, to tell her she was overreacting, it was a joke, get over it ...

"I didn't wanna talk 'bout it."

It's half truth.

He sighs.

"Well, I know that."

There've been quite a few things that the both of them didn't want to talk about. Yet somehow, eventually, they did.

"But you did tell me what that letter said. I know how upset you got every time it came up, and I hated seeing you that way, so I didn't press you if you didn't wanna tell me who wrote it. But maybe if I'd-- listened to you better or-- or showed you that you could trust me..."

He trails off, knowing that he'd done things that caused her to question her trust. And he's sorry. He'll always be sorry.

She glances at him, voice mildly incredulous.

"An' sell out one'a your best friends here? I didn't wanna get in the middle. I know how it is. Been through it before. Y'always stick with your pals."

If she's mildly incredulous, he is totally.

"You think-- you thought I would--? Honey-- the moment he gave you that note, he got between us. I don't know and I don't care what the hell he was tryin' to do except prove himself to be an idiot and an asshole, but there is no fucking way he can say that kind of shit to you and get away with it."

Edited 2013-10-06 19:05 (UTC)

"Oh. I jus' thought—"

She flushes with sudden vulnerability, and can't form the words. After three long years she should be able to talk about why she jus' thought, what she jus' thought, but it's still too painful.

"I jus' thought — it wouldn't matter."

"Wouldn't matter?"

He shifts to look straight at her, whether or not she'll meet his eyes in return.

"Honey, what matters to you, matters to me. If anybody's treating you like shit, it matters to me. If something's bothering you, worrying you, keepin' you up at night, it matters to me. You matter to me. You can fight your own fights, but I'm still gonna be in your corner, 'cause you've done more for me than anybody here and I ain't about to forget that."

It ain't that she doesn't believe him. She does, and she trusts him in a lot of ways. More than anybody else, most oft. But she didn't expect he'd feel that way.

Her eyes gloss with tears. She shakes her head, looking at their barely touched picnic.

"I need t'take a walk. If y'wanna come, we can put the food back in the basket t'keep the critters outta it."

She just needs to move.

He immediately wonders if he'd said something wrong, but she isn't exactly giving off that vibe. Though he's a little confused, he holds back because both their emotions are running high and maybe they both need to collect themselves. He nods in response.

"Sure."

He helps her cover their plates and put the lids back on the containers, quietly packing everything into the basket.

She nods, leaving the basket and her hat on the checkered blanket. Dusting off her britches, she starts in the direction Beaut wandered off in.

The walk is slow and silent, covering ground to the mare. She hears them coming and lifts her head to watch.

After a time, Kate reaches for his hand.

She starts off, and after slipping on his sunglasses, he follows, catching up with an easy stride.

The silence is heavy, but not uncomfortable to him. Hopefully she feels the same way.

She sort of answers his thoughts when he feels her fingers touch his. Without turning his head or taking his shaded eyes off the horse up ahead, he grasps her hand. Holding on.

Beaut trails along after them on Kate's other side like an over-sized puppy, occasionally pausing to pull up sweet grass.

Gradually, Kate presses up to his side while they walk until her head is against his arm.

"You mad at me?"

He glances down at her, squeezing her hand, the back of it brushing against his thigh.

"'Course not, honey, no."

He frowns at the grass.

"It's just a lot to process. I mean, I feel like it's been staring me in the face all this time and I was too stupid to notice, but I guess like they say, everything's clearer in hindsight."

"I didn't — this whole mess started 'cuz I cussed him out in the bar last time we was all together. I was — afraid'a what might happen if I said anythin'."

Afraid of what Voodoo might say, afraid of what she might do, afraid of what Tommy might do. She was just too goddamn angry and hurt to think straight.

"Back then I didn't think you an' I were anythin' more'n jus' — I wouldn't even know how t'explain us. Nothin' half as important as your pals."

He shakes his head.

"Nah, that ain't how it started. After you left, you'd shut Voodoo up pretty damn good. And I told him, I warned him that he'd better watch his mouth or you'd shoot his balls off, but if anything-- I shouldn't have given him ammo by saying what I said about you. And I'm sorry. But I mean, even if I didn't say nothin', he already assumed we were-- y'know, seeing each other, and plus, y'know, like you said, me an' him were pals, but that sure as hell don't give him a free pass to write you a note like that. Seriously, none of my other friends would do that. Franco wouldn't do that, Sean wouldn't do that, Lou certainly wouldn't, and I wouldn't do it to them or whoever they happen to be dating, so I have no clue why Voodoo thought it would be a good idea unless he just deliberately wanted to piss you off. You and me. 'Cause believe me, no guy wants to hear that his girl's got a letter calling her names and all that shit. Christ, what an asshole."

"That's what I thought as well."

Seemed to her he had no intention of speaking to her again. It's hard wrapping her mind around any other possibility.

She shakes her head, letting go of Tommy's hand to wrap her arms around herself.

"It meant nothin' t'him. I don't even know if he remembers it."

"Honey," he adds, glancing at her, "what I mean is, no guy wants to see his girl hurt like that."

And he would've fought for her had he known who to fight.

The loss of contact between them suddenly makes him feel as if he's drifting aimlessly for a few moments, but he lets her be.

"You don't still have the letter, do you?"

His girl.

She ganders back at him briefly, wondering how much she should read into that. She happens to agree; a gentleman should stand up for his partner (just the same as she would stand up for her beau), but her past is riddled with disappointment inasmuch as all that goes. It's not something she'd ask for or expect, half so she don't get mad if he lets her down, half because she can take care of herself.

She watches the grass and wildflowers part before her while she absorbs the question. Her arms squeeze a little tighter, manufacturing comfort and safety.

"Yes, of course. I save all my correspondence."

"Correspondence? You call that correspondence?"

Tommy snorts, glaring ahead of him, thinking of all the ways a piece of garbage like that ought to be disposed of.

"Show it to me later. If Voodoo forgot about it, I'll make sure he remembers by shoving it down his goddamn throat."

"I ain't sure what good that'll do. Y'already know most'a what it said, an' if y'go wavin' it 'round it'll only tell Voodoo that you an' I are still seein' each other."

And he's shown himself not to be the sort to take a hint and shut up when it's so much easier making a wisecrack or insult. For bullies like that, knowledge is power.

However, she shrugs amenably, shaking her head.

"I didn't keep any of the 'gifts', though."

Oh, right. The whole 'keeping things secret'...thing.

He grunts, as if to begrudgingly say good point, and deflates a little, although he sure would like for Voodoo to eat that letter one strip at a time.

Then, he turns his head sharply.

"Gifts? What 'gifts'?"

She hesitates.

She never went into detail describing what accompanied Voodoo's note, keeping it all under a blanket of 'filthy presents', but Tommy must have forgotten.

(Once he finds out, there may not be enough reason in the universe to keep him from making Voodoo eat that letter.)

She turns red, casting her gaze down.

Tommy remembers things one piece at a time. The most important pieces stick, the lesser pieces float around and sometimes are forgotten entirely. In a moment of shock or rage-- such as when he first found out about the letter-- all that mattered was that there was a letter.

Now her hesitation says a lot, at least to him. His imagination runs rampant, and he can feel a fresh wave of fury about to break, but he keeps himself in check, though his voice is low with barely restrained anger.

"Kate...what else did he give you?"

"I don't wanna say out loud."

Kate's not exactly what you'd call a prude, but Victorian sensibilities run deep. Even out in the middle of nowhere she glances around, and turns until she's facing him.

(She still can't look him in the eye, of course.)

"He — he left several boxes of condoms, an' at least half'a dozen bottles of–of somethin' called KY jelly for — for, um. Anyhow. There was a magazine of barely dressed women he suggested I–I look through for ideas."

Her face screws up like she just bit into something sour; she feels vaguely sick to her stomach.

Edited 2013-10-08 19:43 (UTC)

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