Driftwood -- I have never submitted a fanfiction story anywhere before. Ever.
Title: Driftwood (1/?)
Pairings/Characters: Stephen/Other
Rating: PG-13 for language, implied sexiness
Warnings: None
Word Count: 4242
Summary: A broken down car creates a chance encounter on a low-country vacation
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: So as the title says, I've never actually done this before. Correct me if I'm posting things incorrectly, or not using the right tags, or something...this is all new to me. I've written for a long time as a secret hobby, never fanfiction, but I'm kind of Colbert Obsessed. I've never gotten up the nerve to submit anything before--the last person to read anything I wrote was probably a college professor, and that was a decade ago, haha...and never fiction. So please be gentle, but I'll take and welcome any criticism! I have no idea where I'm going with this story beyond a rough outline. I also don't know if it's 'accepted' to introduce characters who aren't part of a public canon, but that's exactly what I've done so I guess skip this if that's not your thing. Other than that, thanks for reading it :)
The southern sun was blazing hot on the top of my head. Beads of sweat gathered and dripped down the back of my shirt. The old road in either direction shimmered with heat, the low country sky pressing down from above. Cicadas and heat bugs sang in the shade of the scrub palmettos and pine trees. My car and it's shattered serpentine belt was pulled over the side of the road near me and the towel I was sitting on by the side of the road. My cell phone, a dead piece of plastic, was heating up in the sun next to me. I was stuck, and not happy about it.
I debated my options. The rental house was 6 miles away from here, through the scrubs and winding road--a long and hot hike in this type of August heat. The vacation town was another 8 miles up the road from me. My husband was hunting with his brother, 45 miles north from us, and not due back for two more days. I had gone into town for food and alcohol, looking forward to my two days of solitude in the South Carolina beach village.
"Fuck," I murmured, unhappy with any of my choices. I hadn't seen a car in ten minutes at least. There were almost no other houses on our part of the road, and I wasn't even sure if I was comfortable taking a ride if one was offered. I either had to walk, or fry like an egg. And my groceries were stuck no matter what. I didn't want to haul them 6 miles to the cabin.
I stood up, brushing the road gravel off the back of my thighs, picking up the towel and cell phone in the process. The heat was reflecting off the road in languid thick waves. I was not relishing such a long walk back to the cabin in this type of heat. You should be laying in a hammock smoking a joint with four fans aimed at you, with this type of heat--not huffing it across a rarely used blacktop country road.
A quick glance through the car insured all of my important items were shoved in my purse. I grabbed the bottle of water--only 3/4ths full--out of the console. The bottle was hot to the touch, I was sure the water even more so, but I knew I was going to need it. I reached into the backseat and pulled out the bottles of unsweet tea from my grocery bags. I chugged half the bottle, and I put it with two bananas in my purse, along with a package of chips.
Keys stashed in my back pocket, purse slung over my shoulder, I double checked my car was locked and started my lonely and hot walk back to the house, already daydreaming of the lemonade I made waiting for me in the fridge, and the gentle waves of the beach out back. I figured at 15 or 20 minutes a mile (I wasn't making any land speed records in this heat) I was looking at a 2 hour walk.
I trudged through the prickly weeds and gravel at the side of the road, listening to the rising and falling chirps of the summer heat bugs, feeling hot sticky drops of sweat fall down my shoulders and thighs. My shirt was already damp and sticking to me.
This fucking sucked. Royally.
After a few minutes, I rounded a curve and glanced behind me. My car was out of sight around the corner, and no other tell-tale clouds of dusts appeared in the distance. I was alone, alright.
As I walked along, I let my mind wander. I wondered what my husband was doing at that moment. I wondered what the kids were doing at that moment. My husband has three from a previous marriage and they were staying with their mother in Florida. But we had one of our own, and she was staying with my parents, also back in Florida. We decided to take the two week trip to the low country as chance to get away from everything.
"Everything that was poisoning our marriage." I said outloud to myself. I frowned, my mind turning the unwelcome through over in my head. It was sharp, and bumped against me. I spent alot of the previous few days trying to avoid thinking about it. I wasn't the type of person to let problems go unsolved in my life--I loved taking action, making decisions, getting things over with. Taking the time to 'think something through' wasn't something I did often. I didn't rely on caution so much as going with my first instinct. Up until now in my life, that skill hadn't let me down. But I was stuck on indecision with my life. My husband was devoted to me, and loved me, no doubt about that. And I loved him. But our life was filled with friction. His exwife never avoided the chance to cause problems, and his kids were not exactly the adoring young ones they were when we met and started dating. The addition of our own child only complicated things at home. More frequently, I found a tiny voice in the back of my head wishing it was just me and Lucy, and no one else. I pushed the thought down as wishful thinking, unreasonable and wrong, chalking it up my loner tendencies. I told myself, you're getting older--life isn't as easy and carefree as it was before. Everyone swallows some level of bitterness.
I kicked a rusted bottle cap along the roadside, slogging through the wet heat like a damp blanket of air. As frustrated as I was with my husband lately, I certainly would have welcomed him at the moment--if only because I knew he'd carry my purse for me.
It was a mile or so into the walk that I heard the car before I saw it, a chugging noise coming from in front of me. I saw the dust cloud before I saw the car. It was a black SUV, late model, but dusty. I fished my keys out of my right pocket, sliding my car key between my ring and middle finger and hiding the others in my palm, sticking out between my hands like a somewhat dangerous steel knuckle. I might have been overly cautious, but I figured it paid to be cautious. For one of the first times in my life, I wish I had a gun.
The car slowed as it neared me, and I could see the window roll down. It had dark tint, and it appeared to be a man at the wheel. The car kicked gravel out behind it as it slowed to a stop near me. I walked slowly towards it, not veering far from the edge of the road, alert and taking in as much information as I can.
"Need a ride?" The voice was baritone, friendly, and attached to a handsome middle aged man. Square jawed, with dark eyes, a poof of black hair and a salt and pepper 5 oclock shadow. He smiled at me. I eyed the car, and him. I couldn't see what he was wearing beyond a white cotton tshirt. He was attractive, in a sloppy looking kind of way.
"I'm headed the other direction." I replied confidently, standing as tall as I could, squeezing the keys that were hidden from view on my right side.
"Well, I can turn around. It's too hot to be walking like that. Did you walk from town?"
"No, my car broke down about a mile up."
"We can go take a look at it, if you want."
I hesitated. My alarm bells weren't ringing yet, but I was cautious, and he was acting rather persistent. A single woman alone on a country road had every right to be cautious.
He must have picked up on my hesitation. "I know most serial rapists probably say this, but I'm not a serial rapist."
"I'm not worried about the serial ones--a single time is enough for me." I shot back. He laughed, a deep throated chuckle. I finally cracked a smile. He just smiled at me, waiting.
"If you want, I can call someone for you if you're not comfortable taking a riding from a gracious southern stranger." He added after a moment of thought.
"Can I take you up on both offers?" My mind made up, I walked around the back of his car--noting the New Jersey license plate--to the passenger side.
He had leaned across and popped open the door for me. The air conditioning was deliciously cold, blasting from the front of the car with the force of an artic gale. It felt amazing as I climbed inside it. The seats were leather, and this one was cold from the a/c blowing on it. I felt like I stepped out of a sauna into a refrigerator, and I slid down into the seat with a happy sigh.
"I'd take being murdered for this air conditioning, I swear."
"Yeah, it's fucking hot out today." I glanced at him as he started the car back on. He wore a wedding band on his left hand, and a pair of paint splattered cargo shorts. I couldn't see his shoes.
"I'm Kathryn." I said, shooting a hand out to him. He flashed me a smile, and shook my hand.
"I'm Stephen" he replied. "Where are we headed?" he added as an afterthought.
"My car first, if you don't mind. And well, I have the cabin on the northern extension, near Sheltering Beach."
"I'm familiar with it, the clapboard rental?"
"Yes."
"We've got the white Victorian on the other side of the extension road."
"That's south of me? I haven't made it down there yet. Hey, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing any plans you had, I know you were headed in to town."
"Actually, I had no plans, other than to get out of the house for a bit. My wife and kids are out in Charleston, and I'm waiting for a friend to arrive later tonight. I thought I'd grab some food. I'm glad I did--it's a long walk back from where you were."
"Well, I appreciate it, I really do." I gave him a genuine smile of thanks, and he glanced over at me--when he saw my smile, his own shot up in response, a thousand-watt grin, and I felt a tiny shred in my brain melt in response to it. For the first time I felt nervous in the car. There was a small lull in the conversation, neither of us sure where to go from here.
"Stephen, I couldn't help but notice that you called yourself a southern gentlemen, but there are Jersey plates on your car."
He laughed again, and I found myself instantly liking it.
"Taking details for the police report, no doubt." He shot back.
"I'm nothing if not thorough. And well trained in self defense." Came my reply.
"I'll keep that in mind." He chuckled. "Well, I live in Jersey and work in the city, but we have a vacation home here. I was raised here." He added as way of an explanation. I caught myself stealing glances of him from the corner of my eyes as he talked, taking in the light dusting of hair on his forearms and legs.
We reached my car quickly.
"I just have some groceries, if you don't mind me grabbing them."
"No problem, let me help you."
I began to say that was unnecessary, but he was already out of his vehicle and headed towards mine.
"Do you want me to take a look at it for you?" He asked as I opened the back seat and started pulling market bags out.
"Why, are you a mechanic?" I asked.
He laughed again. "No, I'm a comedian actually."
"Well, my car has no sense of humor and a snapped serpentine belt, so I am not sure how much help you can be." I shot back, smiling at him.
"I don't know, any car painted this shade of orange has to have some sense of humor about itself." He replied. I laughed.
"Don't make fun of my car, it's an old loyal steed. Well, maybe not so loyal now but definitely old."
We had put the few market bags into the back of Stephen's SUV, and were back in the air conditioning pretty quick.
"There is a mechanic in the village with a tow truck, you can call from my cell if you want." He gestured at his iphone, tucked into a coffee holder in the center console.
I patted my purse. "I have a phone, but the battery died. I doubt a mechanic around here would be open right now anyways." It was Saturday afternoon, and people around here don't tend to work anymore than they have to. I couldn't blame them.
He nodded. "You're right, actually. So, we're headed to the northern extension road?"
"Yes, the cabin is about a mile up from the turn-off."
"Is that place nice inside? I'm familiar with it, but I've never been inside."
"Is that a not-so-subtle hint, gracious southern gentleman?" I couldn't resist my urge to flirt with him, wedding rings be damned--he was handsome, in a sweaty witty kind of way, and I hadn't found anyone worth flirting with in quite a long time. To be honest, I was a little shocked at my forwardness, but I wasn't embarrassed. Stephen seemed very friendly and amiable, and I figured it would be taken as a joke. He did say he was a comedian.
He glanced over at me, our eyes catching for an instant. He gave me another million dollar smile, and winked. I could have sworn that his look read very serious for a brief moment, but I wrote it off as surprise rather than intensity.
"Well, I'll at least help you bring your groceries in. If you're looking for that kind of action, I'm sure any local pizza delivery boy would be happy to volunteer." I laughed out loud at the suggestion--calling for a pizza just to fuck the delivery boy.
"That'd make his year, not to brag or anything." I pretended to act proud, brushing my shoulders off in a blustery gangster sign. He laughed again.
"I'll make sure to let all the delivery boys know."
"Yeah, thanks for that, it's a great way to get a metric ton of free pizza." He chuckled at me.
There was a pause for a moment. "So, Kathryn, so far you know I live in Jersey, work in the city, vacation here, and I'm a comedian. And all I know from you is you brag about good you are in the sack, you drive an ugly unreliable car, and you're staying in a rental cabin."
I laughed at his description, his comment about my bedroom proweress setting off a chain reaction of thoughts I quickly put down.
"Well, I live in Florida. I've never vacationed here before. I run a tech company with my husband. And I *am* very good in the sack." I added as an afterthought. It illicted another chuckle from him, and a surprisingly throaty 'mmhmm'. I felt my stomach clench inside at that noise. I instantly wanted him to do it again. I found myself shifting a bit on the leather seat of his car. Wow. I also briefly wondered if I was coming on too hard, and I vowed to step the playful flirting back a bit. We were both married, and we both likely had children. It wasn't appropriate. The air in the car changed a bit after that reaction.
"A tech company, huh?" I was grateful he ignored my comment beyond his growling response, and brought the subject back to something safe.
"Yeah, it's a development house, contracting, that kind of stuff. I run the business side, my husband handles the tech side. We do a couple of different development languages, and run a few webservices ourselves." I found myself rambling for a moment, trying to fill the heavy air with a topic that didn't involve any sacks, or actions therein.
"Sounds fascinating."
I chuckled. "No need to be patronizing. I'm sure it's not nearly as exciting as the seedy underbelly of the comedy world. Do you do standup?"
"No, I started out in improv, but now...well it's political satire."
"Satire huh? The thinking man's comedy."
He laughed in a self-deprecating kind of way. "I'm a professional buffoon. A pretty successful buffoon, but I write that off to sheer luck."
"So is there a big market in New York for political satirists? Is it like an SNL kind of thing?" I asked, turning his words over in my head.
"No, not really, I don't work in the club circuit, I'm in television." My ears perked up. Television?
"Really now?" I asked, glancing at him again. I couldn't place him, but then I haven't had cable in 10 years. I could walk right into some TV stars and have no idea who they were.
"Yeah, a show on Comedy Central, it's called the Colbert Report. Colbert is my last name." He added as an afterthought, giving me a wry smile. I rolled it over in my head. I recognized the show name, and knew it as a kind of Fox News spoof and popular with college aged kids, but he was utterly unfamiliar to me. I also noticed his gaze lingered on me after I turned back to the road, but I ignored it.
"Well, I don't recall it or recognize you, but I also don't have cable and live like a hermit. But I guess that makes me feel a bit safer about being picked up by you then."
"What, I'm not dangerous enough?" He turned and eyed me with a dark look. I eyed him back. Two can play that game.
"I guess that depends on your definition of dangerous. I could probably take you in a fight."
"I could probably take you to the grocery store." He quipped.
"I could probably take you to a nice steak dinner." I shot back.
"I could probably take you to bed." He replied quietly, quickly. staring forward at the road as we took the turn off. I swallowed. The only sound in the car was the air conditioning, blasting out. My pulse quickened at the implication of his words. I looked at him. His fingers were gripped to the steering wheel, the knuckled white. He was visibly tense, and he was looking straight ahead.
I decided on a subject change. The air was electric in the car, and the chill from the a/c was giving me goosebumps. So was the tone of his voice.
"Well, that got weird fast. Lets talk about the weather or something." I decided to write the last comment off with a laugh, banking on him joking, and giving him an out.
"It's hot."
"It is indeed hot."
Another silence fell over us. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. I had assumed we were just joking around and flirting in a fun way, but his attitude shifted very quickly. I vowed to Google this man as quickly as I could get my phone charged up when I got back inside.
"The cabin is up here a few hundred yards on the right." I said quietly, gesturing with my hand. The SUV bumped along the badly maintained road, twisting through the scrub grasses. Fuck this guy if he's going to get weird on me. I wanted out of the car, and I was grateful the ride was almost over.
"Sorry about that. My mind wandered. I didn't mean to insult you or anything." He said to me, giving me an ernest glance. I caught his eyes for a moment, and he broke the glance to turn into the driveway at the ramshackle rental.
"It's alright. You speared yourself on the metal tip of the comedy spike." I chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the car.
"Something like that." He murmured, and he was out of the car quickly. I sat in the passenger seat for a moment, collecting my thoughts. He opened the back door and pulled a few grocery bags out. After a deep breath, I headed for the front door the cabin.
~*~
After setting the mesh bags down on the driftwood table, Stephen turned and surveyed the rental.
"This is actually a really cute place." He commented. I glanced around with him, and he was right. It was a small and sweet rental, filled with jars of sand and seashells, a small walk through the dunes to the South Carolina surf. The windows were large and splashed sunshine on the wicker furniture.
"It's a bit beachy camp for me, but it's a good deal and I love the porch." I replied, gesturing to the kitchen door. He moved his hand in a 'lead the way' gesture and we headed out back.
The back porch was wide and screened in, with a 360 view of the rolling dunes and white capped waves peeking through them. It had comfortable furniture in it, mostly white wicker or wood, with three rocking chairs, a large soft rope hammock, and oddly enough, a white queen anne couch.
Stephen plopped down on the couch, and I took a rocking chair nearby.
"Well, Stephen, thank you again for the ride. The walk was going to be brutal, and I'm grateful you came along to give me a lift. Can I get you a drink? Lemonade, a beer, anything?" I asked him.
He smiled at me. "A lemonade sounds great, actually, thanks."
I got up and headed into the kitchen. I poured two of them, quickly, and went out back. I handed off the glass to him, damp with condensation, and his fingertips brushed mine. It was the first time he had physically touched me, and I jolted. The ice clinked in the glass, and I smiled a quick apology to him. "Sorry about that, the glass was slippery."
"No problem."
I sat back down in the rocking chair. "I'm serious though, thank you for the lift. That might have been a literal life saver."
"It was no problem. I'll leave my number with you, so if you need a lift into town to pick the car up after it's repaired, just give me a ring. I'm here for another week, and my family isn't due back for another three days."
"Oh, I appreciate that. My husband is gone for two days on a camping trip."
He smiled. We were keeping the conversation light. I still felt a bit shaken by his comment in the car, and I didn't want to give him the wrong idea or impression. He was playing along, a bit more reserved than he was before.
"I was going to ask where Mr. Kathryn is, and if there are any little Kathryns."
"There is a little Kathryn, actually, her name is Lucy, and she's staying with family."
"Ahh, beautiful name for a little girl. You have a beautiful name too, also. How old is she?"
"She's two. And thank you, I've always enjoyed my name."
"I have a girl myself, but she's a teenager."
"I actually have three stepchildren, two of them are teens. It's not been easy."
"I can imagine. Well, actually, I can't, but I am sure it's not easy."
I smile at him lightly, sipping my lemonade. I am not going to get started on exactly how 'not easy' it is. He was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, letting the water from the glass drip onto the rough-hewn wooden plank floor.
"Well, Kathryn, it was really a pleasure meeting you. I'll leave you my number, and thank you for the lemonade--it's delicious." He stood up from the couch, and I saw him into the kitchen where he scribbled a cell phone number on a pad by the door. It had a 973 area code.
I leaned against the doorframe and watched him write it, not sure what else to say. I thought he was attractive and funny, and the polite thing would have been to invite him over again, but I also relished my alone time and didn't want a huge intrusion into it. I also didn't know how my husband would react to me having another man over. He was sensitive about this kind of stuff. Or any stuff, really. Sigh. Fuck it.
"If you don't have plans for dinner, would you want some crab? I picked up a few pounds of blue crabs yesterday, and they're currently swimming in a cooler in the bathroom, waiting to be devoured."
He gave me another heart-stopping smile, genuine. He was leaning on my counter top, and I noticed his shoes for the first time--sandals. He ran a hand through his fluffy hair. "I was hoping you'd say that. Blue crab sounds great. I can bring something to drink."
"Well, it's settled then, I'll steam them up. Around sunset?"
"Sunset then." He turned after flashing me another smile and headed to the front door. I saw him out, and watched as he climbed back in his car.
I immediately went to plug my phone in, and figure out who exactly I had just invited to dinner.