(no subject)
I've got the most shocking headache... I'm not sure if it was rehearsal or the beer consumed after it.... on a brighter note though, Jake totally gave me the solo in The Stone Guest tonight.. I'm fairly tickled, except that he decided to spring it on me with absolutely no warning and I must have given him total 'deer in headlights' look, 'cause he cracked up. Completely.
And okay, so I haven't told anyone this before, besides natushka but she doesn't count 'cause she's the one that did this to me. After watching Guys and Dolls live on stage in Melbournee... I've kind of fallen for Ian Stenlake. You know, I've seen two episodes of Seapatrol, and didn't think ANYTHING of him.... but Seeing him live on stage, signing?? *dead* Just.. wow.
So anyways.. natushka is sending me all this Seapatrol fic, with angst and UST and a little bit of nearly-there... and it's driving me COMPLETELY insane and ALL I wanted, was to have Ian get the girl. It was like a craving. I just had this burning desire for Ian to have the girl....
But
natushka was all in the middle of her discovery of what made Mike and Kate tick. So I figured it was a case of well if Mohammad can't come to the mountain....
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
He wasn’t sure why he was outside. Rain was hammering down from the dark sky above, an endless torrent of water seeping under his waterproof jacket, sending icy droplets down his spine. It dripped off his fingers, his nose, his eyelashes - he could barely see more then a few feet ahead of him.
But he kept going, stumbling on the slick cement, reaching out for fences and support beams: handholds he knew were there in the daylight, but seemed to purposely hide from him in the darkness.
One such pole loomed out of the gloom before him, the corner post holding up the veranda. He slipped, falling into it, and let out a gasp of pain as his knee connected. He stilled a moment, feeling another trail of water slither down his neck. Involuntarily he shivered, although he was sure it wasn’t from the cold.
Slowly, he made his way to the door; it was unlocked. He pushed it open softly, straining his ears over the racket of the rain to try and hear movement within the house, but it was silent and cold and still.
He moved into the house, unmindful of the puddles he left in his wake as the water ran in rivulets off his jacket onto the plush carpet. Although in his boots, he walked silently down the hall. Even in the darkness, he knew where he was going.
He came upon the bedroom, and finally he hesitated. The door was ajar, and he could see across the room to the large bay window, which, with it’s open curtains, allowed a lone streetlight to cast a muted orange glow into the room. He could see the very edge of the bed, and an indistinguishable lump under a blanket.
He swallowed hard, and slowly, softly, almost painfully, pushed the door open wider. As his view of the room increased, his heartbeat raised a few beats faster, his breathing hitched. The bedroom finally opened up to him in it’s entirety, and the indistinguishable lump turned out to be a person.
Kate, in fact.
Mike let a smile tug against his lips, slipping noiselessly into the room. With his eyes still on her sleeping face, he reached down and unlaced his boots, sliding them off. It was only then that he noticed the mud that was still clinging stubbornly to the soles of his shoes. He turned his head, his eyes retracing his steps, and he winced at the mess he’d left behind.
Kate was going to kill him.
He shrugged off his jacket, sliding across the carpeted room to the adjoining bathroom, where he hung it up to dry, and spent a few minutes drying his face and his hands. Then he moved back into the room, staring down at the woman, still oblivious to his presence. His smile, by it’s own accord, broadened, and Kate’s eyes opened a crack.
“Hey.” He kept his voice low, and was slightly surprised she heard him over the rain still drumming relentlessly against the windows.
“Hey.” Her voice was croaky, thick with sleep, and she blinked blurry eyes at him, staring up into his face but not really seeing, “What are you doing here?”
“Came to check on you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, then lay the back of his hand against her forehead. Beneath the roughness of his knuckles, her fever burned.
“You were supposed to be out...” the sentence trailed off as her eyes drifted shut, and she finished the sentence in a whisper, “... buck night with the boys.” She mumbled a few more words, ‘bad luck’ escaping quite audibly.
Mike turned his hand over, letting it trail down the side of her face. Unconsciously, Kate’s face turned into the coolness provided by the rain, and he smiled, “We’re not getting married with you in this condition... and it’s not midnight yet.”
Her eyelids fluttered open again, and suddenly her eyes were hard and calculating, without a trace of the virus currently assaulting her body, “Oh no you don’t.” She told him sternly, her voice lacking any sort of authoritative tone, “You’re not getting out of marrying me that easily.” The last word dissolved into a coughing fit, Kate springing up into sitting position with almost inhuman speed.
Mike brought his second hand up to wrap around the back of her neck, gently massaging her tense muscles as her coughing subsided. Although they had been freezing when he’d come in, his hands were rapidly warming from her fevered flesh.
She stared at him through her fever glazed eyes, only inches away, her breathing heavy, “Marry me tomorrow.” She sounded almost like a child, her voice soft and plaintive before she mustered up some more strength, “I’ll come in a wheelchair if I have to... but for gods sake marry me Mike or I’m going to ask someone else. Maybe ET. He might be young, but at least he had the balls to actually marry a girl.” She had to stop, her words draining the last of her reserve.
Mike chuckled as he gently lowered her head back on the pillow, his throat almost constricting at love he felt for her at that moment. She was sick, she looked a wreck, and she’d been bed ridden for three days, but he still had no question in his mind that she meant what she said. Well, all apart from the asking ET bit. He was almost sure she’d been joking.
He hoped.
Mike reached down, and pressed his cool lips against her forehead, then left them resting gently against her skin as he spoke, “Alright, Kate.” He murmured, “I’ll marry you tomorrow, you daft cow.” His brought his hands back up to cup her face, and pulled his lips away so he could look directly into her eyes.
She looked back at him, with no strength to smile, but all of her affection shown through those eyes.
“Mrs Kate Flynn.” She murmured, her eyes falling shut again, her body relaxing, “Finally.” She sunk into the pillows, “Now go. Can’t see you.”
Mike chuckled as he stood up, then bent over to kiss her delicately on the lips, before tucking the blanket tight around her.
He stared down at her for a long moment, realising he would need to go back to his bucks party. He’d arranged to stay with Buffer the night, so Bride and Groom could stay apart before the wedding.
As he stood there, Kate’s forehead crease, her sleep looking troubled, and a rivulet of sweat slid across her eyebrow to drip unobtrusively onto her pillow.
Beside her, a bedside clock flashed the time as 12:15am.
Figuring he’d already broken the taboo, and that once broken it was silly to keep it up - kind of like trying to pretend you’ve not really broken a mirror by using the pieces - he quickly divested himself of his clothes and slipped in to bed beside her.
She was hot and clammy, but he didn’t care, wrapping his cold body around her tightly. Kate relaxed against him, spooning into his embrace.
“Love you.” She whispered into his chest, her lips gliding across his skin.
“Love you.” He whispered back against her hair, “Mrs Flynn.”