Tallulah Falls, 4/?
anonymous
October 21 2010, 01:36:09 UTC
Kirk is very persuasive--or, more precisely, very good at whining until he gets what he wants. That’s how he got Leonard to agree to take him to his own home instead of the Glenmoor Springs Inn, the nicest hotel in the area, but which, according to Kirk, is poorly soundproofed, overrun with tourists, and impossible to secure from paparazzi.
Paparazzi are a fixation of Kirk’s, in spite of the fact that McCoy has yet to see one. Chris got her moment in the sun giving a press conference for a half-dozen reporters, even getting to cloak-and-dagger a little with the lie that the hospital was going to keep Kirk overnight for observation. An assistant had appeared with an overnight bag, and Kirk had emerged from Exam Room C wearing jeans and a grey T-shirt, a baseball and sunglasses, looking less like a time traveler and more like a guy trying to hard not to be noticed.
“It’s the Lakers cap,” McCoy had said, though in truth it’s the jeans, which are a little too tight and too-expensive looking for local trade.
Now Kirk is leaning back in the passenger’s seat of McCoy’s eight-year-old Accord, eyes closed, giving McCoy ample time to brood about whether he’s going to sleep in Jo’s room or on the couch, how he can keep the guy entertained without a TV or even a pack of cards, and how much he’d rather be headed home alone after his shift, like every other Wednesday night.
He’s brooding so hard about those things that he completely forgets to worry about how his house will look to Kirk until they’re winding up the long, unpaved driveway. Like a shack, probably, and McCoy like some kind of hillbilly, even though he graduated with honors from Tulane Medical School, as McCoy plans on telling him if the subject comes up.
The terminal crunch of gravel wakes the kid, and McCoy says unnecessarily, “We’re here.”
“What? Oh.” Kirk swabs a hand across his face.
“I’ll get your bag,” Leonard says, to let Kirk know he’s not the bag-carrying type, except that he’s supposed to be protecting Kirk’s health.
“This is nice,” Kirk says, climbing the 30 stairs up the slope to where Leonard’s house perches like an owl above Whistler Creek. “Really nice. My house is on a hill, too.”
“As in, Hollywood Hills?”
Kirk turns to give him a nose-wrinkle of disgust. “Ew, no. Topanga Canyon. Much more quiet.”
Leonard reflects that if he has a surfeit of anything here, it’s quiet.
Once they’re inside the house, Kirk gives a cursory look around and makes straight for the framed photos on the mantelpiece.
“You’re married? With a kid?” Kirk stares around in disbelief, as if defying either one to appear.
“Divorced.” The word usually has a lump-of-coal effect, but Kirk actually smiles.
“Oh. Well, your daughter’s super cute. Takes after her dad. Although her mom is pretty hot, too. Shit, Southern women.” Kirk sighs appreciatively.
“Yup. Known for their manners, too.”
Kirk takes the hint and pretends to look abashed. “Sorry. I think I have that disinhibition thing you mentioned before.” He points to his notched cranium.
“Right. Anyhow, you should take a nap. I’ll show you the bedroom.”
Leonard has to pick the best of limited options. There are two spare bedrooms: one he uses as a home office and the other is for Jo when she visits. It’s got a tiny single bed with a canopy and butterflies the two of them painted one sunny summer afternoon. That just leaves the master bedroom, and Leonard doesn’t even have time to change the sheets.
“Uh...” Leonard picks up the shirt he changed his mind about this morning and throws it into the hamper. “If you’d rather--”
“This is perfect.” Kirk is standing a little too close, and giving him a more intimate version of the mind-altering smile. Or maybe it only seems more intimate because he’s standing between Leonard and Leonard’s bed. “I’m sure I’ll have sweet dreams.”
Concussion, Leonard reminds himself, nodding stupidly, and closes the door and gets his ass downstairs as fast as he can without running.
Re: Tallulah Falls, 4/?themintytwinsOctober 21 2010, 02:59:04 UTC
EEEEE--! Its probably excessive to comment after every part, so I'll keep it to a minimum, but I saw the bit about Joanna and I had to comment because that will definitely be a highlight of this story, (which is written very well, btw, good on ya) XD So exciting! (exciting may not be the right word... feh, oh well.)
Re: Tallulah Falls, 4/?
anonymous
October 21 2010, 13:14:48 UTC
Greedy author says there's NO SUCH THING as excessive commenting! Still, you don't need to--I'm just glad you're enjoying the story.
I was planning to make Jo about 10, which I think should be old enough to squee over a big star but young enough that it's clear McCoy doesn't have a lot of flexibility to leave her. Sound about right?
Paparazzi are a fixation of Kirk’s, in spite of the fact that McCoy has yet to see one. Chris got her moment in the sun giving a press conference for a half-dozen reporters, even getting to cloak-and-dagger a little with the lie that the hospital was going to keep Kirk overnight for observation. An assistant had appeared with an overnight bag, and Kirk had emerged from Exam Room C wearing jeans and a grey T-shirt, a baseball and sunglasses, looking less like a time traveler and more like a guy trying to hard not to be noticed.
“It’s the Lakers cap,” McCoy had said, though in truth it’s the jeans, which are a little too tight and too-expensive looking for local trade.
Now Kirk is leaning back in the passenger’s seat of McCoy’s eight-year-old Accord, eyes closed, giving McCoy ample time to brood about whether he’s going to sleep in Jo’s room or on the couch, how he can keep the guy entertained without a TV or even a pack of cards, and how much he’d rather be headed home alone after his shift, like every other Wednesday night.
He’s brooding so hard about those things that he completely forgets to worry about how his house will look to Kirk until they’re winding up the long, unpaved driveway. Like a shack, probably, and McCoy like some kind of hillbilly, even though he graduated with honors from Tulane Medical School, as McCoy plans on telling him if the subject comes up.
The terminal crunch of gravel wakes the kid, and McCoy says unnecessarily, “We’re here.”
“What? Oh.” Kirk swabs a hand across his face.
“I’ll get your bag,” Leonard says, to let Kirk know he’s not the bag-carrying type, except that he’s supposed to be protecting Kirk’s health.
“This is nice,” Kirk says, climbing the 30 stairs up the slope to where Leonard’s house perches like an owl above Whistler Creek. “Really nice. My house is on a hill, too.”
“As in, Hollywood Hills?”
Kirk turns to give him a nose-wrinkle of disgust. “Ew, no. Topanga Canyon. Much more quiet.”
Leonard reflects that if he has a surfeit of anything here, it’s quiet.
Once they’re inside the house, Kirk gives a cursory look around and makes straight for the framed photos on the mantelpiece.
“You’re married? With a kid?” Kirk stares around in disbelief, as if defying either one to appear.
“Divorced.” The word usually has a lump-of-coal effect, but Kirk actually smiles.
“Oh. Well, your daughter’s super cute. Takes after her dad. Although her mom is pretty hot, too. Shit, Southern women.” Kirk sighs appreciatively.
“Yup. Known for their manners, too.”
Kirk takes the hint and pretends to look abashed. “Sorry. I think I have that disinhibition thing you mentioned before.” He points to his notched cranium.
“Right. Anyhow, you should take a nap. I’ll show you the bedroom.”
Leonard has to pick the best of limited options. There are two spare bedrooms: one he uses as a home office and the other is for Jo when she visits. It’s got a tiny single bed with a canopy and butterflies the two of them painted one sunny summer afternoon. That just leaves the master bedroom, and Leonard doesn’t even have time to change the sheets.
“Uh...” Leonard picks up the shirt he changed his mind about this morning and throws it into the hamper. “If you’d rather--”
“This is perfect.” Kirk is standing a little too close, and giving him a more intimate version of the mind-altering smile. Or maybe it only seems more intimate because he’s standing between Leonard and Leonard’s bed. “I’m sure I’ll have sweet dreams.”
Concussion, Leonard reminds himself, nodding stupidly, and closes the door and gets his ass downstairs as fast as he can without running.
Reply
Reply
I was planning to make Jo about 10, which I think should be old enough to squee over a big star but young enough that it's clear McCoy doesn't have a lot of flexibility to leave her. Sound about right?
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment