Almost Forgot This Update. Oops.
Some Kind of Fix
Word Count: 2,886
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Linden/Holder
Spoilers: up to 1x13, just to be safe.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just break things.
Summary: He wants a fix. She's got somewhere to be. Neither of them expected this.
Author's Note: I admit... I am not entirely sure what I'm doing...
Some Kind of Morning
"I am not cleaning that up."
Holder looked over at Linden and back at the mess all over his kitchen and what other people might turn into the dining room-he mostly ate at a kitchen counter or on his couch, if he ate at home at all. He didn't do that very much. Still, this was his place. She probably thought that he should deal with it because this dump was his. "What, I'm supposed to clean that shit? Forget it."
"Fine. Neither of us is cleaning it tonight," she agreed, and he just looked at her. Huh. He wondered how good she'd been at keeping her house. Probably not that great, since she was probably never home. This was something she did all the time with her son, wasn't it?
"Works for me. Now what? Bed time?" he had to ask. She was still mostly making the rules, more than he was-or at least that was what she needed to think. He'd let her be in control, knew that was what she wanted. "You gonna tuck me in and tell me a bed time story?"
She gave him a sideways glance. "Holder, I'm your fake girlfriend, not your mother. You want a mother, then that is just-"
"Fucked up, right?" he finished, giving her a wide grin. He crossed over to her and wrapped his arms around her. "Come on, girl, what do you want to do? We did survive our first meal, and it wasn't half-bad. Should we celebrate?"
"For a meal? Don't you think that's a bit much?"
"Celebrate the little things. One of those things they teach you in rehab. Like not sweating the small stuff. All part of the program," he reminded her. She hadn't gone through all of it, had she? Maybe she was better off. She didn't have that same call, the same need, that desire for a fix. He'd much rather have his addiction to cigarettes than his one to meth, even though he missed the meth sometimes.
A lot of the time.
He wanted some right now. Couldn't that feeling go away for more than a few minutes at a time? This was driving him crazy. He kept feeling like dipping in Linden's money and going off to get himself something. The hell was wrong with him? He didn't want to mess up what he had. He needed liked Linden. It was going to be hard enough to keep her around without getting himself strung out.
"Holder?" Linden asked, interrupting his thoughts. He looked down at her. He thought she saw something he hadn't meant to show her, but she didn't call him on it. "You have popcorn?"
He nodded. "Ain't you stuffed, though?"
"There's always room for popcorn when you're watching a movie."
"Ah, so that's what we're doing," he said, shrugging a little. "Okay, I can deal with that. You're not going to make us watch one of them movies where everyone cries and dies and shit, right?"
She shook her head. "Why would I? I hate that crap. Let's watch some cop movie and make fun of how bad of a job they do."
"Sounds good to me," he agreed, letting her lead him back into the kitchen. He separated from her, going to the cupboard with the popcorn and taking one out. He opened it, getting rid of the plastic, and then passed it over to her. She put it in the microwave and pushed the button.
"I almost figured you for a guy who popped his own," she said, and he shrugged a little.
"You mean with a pan over the stove and all that? I used to, but I got really lazy when I got addicted. Too much damn work."
She shook her head a little, and he did his best to ignore it. If he thought too much about what he was before the meth, he just got depressed. It was time to move past all that, and he hoped to hell that she wouldn't leave him because she was a big part of this. They all said it didn't work, getting sober, not unless he did it for himself. He was. It was just that she... was something he wanted, something that he could only have if he stayed sober. That would help.
"You're being quiet," she said, taking out the bag of popcorn and opening it up.
He reached into the bag for a handful of popcorn and started eating. He threw a piece at her, and she made a face. He smiled back at her before going into the other room. He turned on his tv and started flipping channels until he saw someone with a badge. "How's this, Linden?"
"Looks like crap," she said, coming around the couch to join him. She'd poured the popcorn into a bowl before she came out. "Leave it on."
She sat down next to him, and he pulled her in against him, putting an arm around her waist. She set the bowl on her lap, and they started eating from it as they watched. "Dude, Linden, tell me that I wasn't that bad."
She shook her head. "Actually, you were worse."
"Please. At least I got some brains. And looks," he said, throwing more popcorn in her face. She laughed, reaching a hand to the side of his face and pulling him close for a kiss.
"Tell me the woman is nothing like me."
"Well, she's got bigger boobs, for one, and she never seems to wear a bra, either," he told her, and she elbowed him. "Damn, you're abusive, woman. I'm not so sure this is going to work out between us. I ain't so keen on being a victim."
"You keep asking for it, Holder."
"You didn't let me finish. I was also going to say that you were smarter than her and never would have fell for that guy's line of shit."
"And you're a lot better than he is," she said, and he figured that was as much of an apology as he was going to get. He teased her with some popcorn, and she almost bit him as she took it. She really was a violent one. "How long do you think it will take them to have sex?"
"Most of the movie. I think this is a porno."
"Figures. The acting is terrible."
"We could do better."
"No way in hell are we filming ourselves having sex."
Linden woke to a loud pounding on the door. She opened her eyes slowly, stretching a little. She had fallen asleep on top of Holder, and he was not exactly the most comfortable of pillows. His couch would have been little better, but it didn't matter. She couldn't change what had happened, and she would live. She didn't care if she was a little sore. Last night had been nice.
Nice. Damn it, that was a dangerous word. She couldn't afford to get attached to Holder. To this. This was not permanent. It was a temporary situation, something they'd made to help her figure out what was going on with her son. It was not real. None of it was. Except the sex. And that was not enough. Wasn't that what everyone said?
She shook her head as she walked to the door, opening it. She looked down at her son. "Morning, Jack."
"You slept in your clothes?"
"Looks like you did, too," she told him, letting him in. "Holder and I were watching a movie. Where's your father?"
"Waiting for me downstairs. He says we're going for breakfast."
"Breakfast?" Holder asked sleepily, sitting up. She wished he'd been able to sleep longer. She could already see his hands twitching. "We got something to make for breakfast, didn't we? What was it again? Pancakes or eggs?"
"Both."
"One of us should have cleaned up last night," he said, kissing her neck as he passed around her. Jack looked at them, frowning. He was not sure what to make of any of this, and even though she knew that she shouldn't enjoy it, she did. What kind of a mother was she?
A bad one, most people said. The job came first, her son got neglected. Everyone got neglected. She only had time for the job, nothing else. She was no better than the foster parents who had forgotten or abused her over the years, was she?
"Yo, Linden," Holder called from the kitchen. "You gonna help with these or leave them to me? I might make 'em look like something nasty, you know? Something your son shouldn't see."
"You won't," she told him, shoving her thoughts aside and forcing a smile as she went into the kitchen. "You know better than that."
"You're going to have to keep reminding me. Every single time. Now don't that just piss you off?" Holder asked challengingly, and she walked right up to him, getting in his face. She wasn't about to back down, not now, not with Jack watching them.
"I can handle anything you throw at me. I don't think the same can be said about you, though."
"You gonna tell me I ain't seen your moods yet? That if I did, then I would run as fast as I could for those hills? I told you before, and I'll tell you again, I am not afraid of you. I'm not gonna run. I'm not like the other ones you've known," he insisted, taking her by the hand and pulling her close. "Where did we leave the syrup?"
She bit her lip, remembering their distraction before dinner. "I think we used it all."
"You used all the syrup? For what?" Jack asked, and all Linden could do was stand there, red. She struggled to find an explanation that she could give him, but she couldn't think of anything. Holder looked at her and then at Jack.
"Have you ever heard that expression, kid? How's it go again, Linden?" Holder asked, and she looked at him blankly. She had no idea what he was talking about. "'Slow as molasses in January? Ring any bells?"
"Uh... Maybe."
"Well, we were having an experiment, seeing how slow molasses really is," Holder went on, and she tried not to laugh. This was the stupidest excuse that she'd ever heard. The worst part, though, was that Jack almost seemed to be buying it. "It's not January, but we tried anyway."
"Maple syrup is not molasses," she said, and Holder shot her a look.
"Woman, why you got to fuss over the details?" he demanded. She shrugged, and his annoyance vanished as quickly as it came. He grinned at her before stealing a kiss. "You ever eaten those Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes?"
"Who's Mickey Mouse?"
"What is this world coming to, when kids don't know who he is?" Holder frowned, and Linden shrugged. She didn't know. "Tell me that he's just trying to mess with me. How can any kid not know the Disney mascot? That mouse has been famous longer than any of us has been alive."
"I think he is messing with you, if that will make you feel any better."
"Not really."
Linden's kid had apparently forgotten all about his dad waiting in the car. He hadn't gone back down, hadn't even said why he'd come here. None of his stuff was here. The only thing here was his mother, and Holder had his doubts that the kid cared about that. Still, she had to be the reason, right? Jack had wanted to spend all this time with his father, right? He wasn't down there or anywhere else his father could be. That was where he was supposed to be, wasn't it? Holder wasn't about to remind him, though.
Let the kid stay. The whole "act" part of it didn't do any good if Jack was never around them to see it. Well, it worked for Holder because he knew it was working on Linden. She was doing more and more here, becoming more relaxed, hanging around without the sex thing. Not that the sex wasn't good, but it had to be more than that. He wasn't sure when it had gone beyond that for him, near the beginning or maybe even before, which was just plain crazy, but she was only now starting to see more-or act more. Holder wasn't completely sure.
He looked over at the kid. He should get the damn birds and bees talk out of the way sooner rather than later, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He hadn't ever wanted to be in this position. If he was honest, he would never have expected to have kids, except by accident. He supposed that he could call this an accident, falling for a woman that already had one. It just went to show-you couldn't pick who you fell in love with.
Was this love? Holder had to admit-it was a pretty screwed up version of it if it was.
"Well, that proves it," Linden said, coming up next to him. He looked over at her, and she passed him one of his cigarettes. He frowned at it, but she lifted his hand, letting him see it shake. Had it been that bad all this time, and he hadn't noticed? Damn. "We can make more than one meal."
"We might become actual cooks someday," Holder agreed. He looked at the kid and put the cigarette in his pocket. "Still not Martha Stewart, though. Damn, that gives me chills. You're much better looking, girl."
"Stop calling me girl," she said. "Give me a minute with my son."
He nodded, moving away. She caught his arm, took the cigarette from his pocket and put it back in his hand. He shook his head. "Just go, Holder. This is your home. And you don't need to stand there suffering for my sake or for Jack's. You need this."
Damn, she was so freaking beautiful right then. He didn't know how to tell her any of what was going through his mind, so he just grabbed her and kissed her, hard, until he almost forgot what he was doing. It wasn't a dragging into the bedroom sort of kiss; he didn't make any move to undress her, and she didn't try for his clothes, either. It was just a kiss. One hell of a kiss, but still a kiss.
"Do you two need a room?" Jack asked, and Holder broke off, looking over at him. That kid-he had lousy timing, that was for damn sure. Every time they were in the middle of something or trying to sleep, he interrupted.
"Not right now. You and I are going to talk," Linden said, moving away from Holder to go to her son. He let her go, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. He wanted something else, and she knew it, too, but she wasn't judging. She was trying to help. Not that pushy sort of help, not preachy-oh, he had respect for Jesus, always had the cross with him, marked forever for salvation, but he had trouble accepting help from the missionaries same as everyone else. It had been a long journey for him, getting to where he was now, and he felt himself constantly wanting to go back to where he had been, cross or no cross.
He went back into his bedroom, going to the window. He opened it, lighting the cigarette and taking a slow drag off it. Linden was right. He needed to get back to work. He needed something more than this. He liked spending his days with her, could tolerate her kid, but it wasn't enough. He needed to go to a meeting. He normally only went once a week, but he figured it couldn't hurt to do another one. That was what he was supposed to do when things got bad.
What he couldn't figure was why things were so bad. He was doing fine. He hadn't relapsed. He had Linden. He was sober, and she was helping. This was fine.
Yeah, and he was really, really bad at lying to himself. He didn't know why he could fool everyone else but not himself. He only seemed to manage it when he was high, and that was just because he couldn't tell one thing from another then.
He heard the floor creak and looked back. Linden was in the doorway. Holder wasn't sure what this meant. "That was quick."
"Jack went back with his father."
"You still okay with that?"
"I'm fine. You're not."
Holder nodded. That was true. She crossed the room to him and put her arms around him. "What are we going to do with you, Holder?"
"I suppose I have a few ideas..."
Chapter Seven