Driftwood 7
Title: Driftwood (7/?)
Pairings/Characters: Stephen/Other
Rating: PG13
Warnings: None
Summary: Neither Kathryn or Stephen are having a good holiday
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.
Authors Note: This is a short chapter!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
The message I sent was short, and to the point--wishing him a merry Christmas, saying I just wanted to say hello. I tossed my phone down on the granite patio top, and took another deep hit off my joint. I felt my stress and anxiety recede a bit, but I knew it was temporary. Still, it felt good to rest a little, propping my feet up on the table and staring up at the winter sky. I found my brain skipping forward to the upcoming New Years holiday, not on my plans (because I had none) but on what the upcoming year might bring me. If you had told me a year before that I would have suspicions my husband was cheating on me, that I was depressed and unhappy and worried I developing a school girl crush on a very unavailable man, and that I had actually slept with that man...well, I would have laughed at you, I think. I frankly had no idea what this new year would bring me, but I suspected it would have something to do with him.
My phone buzzed on the table. I sat up quickly and reached for it, simultaneously relieved and nervous that he might have texted me back.
'Merry Christmas to you too! I am in SC with family. How was yours?' I read it three times, quickly, in a row.
I mulled it over. Honest, or polite? It was usually a hard decision with Stephen, but we always seemed to choose polite, at least when it came to our personal lives.
'Not my best, but the kids had a great one.' That was a cop-out, but I wasn't sure what to say. If he was simply being polite, then he didn't need or want any real answer, so spinning it positively gave him an out to ignore the answer if he wanted. After I sent that one, I sent a second immediately afterwards--'how is SC?'
I took the time to go in the house and make a cup of spiked eggnog and head back out. When I sat back down, I sat the blinking light indicating a text, waiting for me. He had answered both texts in one.
'SC is good, weather is nice, I have been boating. Why not your best?'
I swallowed. Why? In our relationship, friendship, agreement--whatever it was--we had never once asked each other why. It was a word that we just didn't use. We stepped around it with our unhappy references, maybe acknowledging them silently, or reading between the lines in a word, or a tone, gathering a second meaning that implied "unhappiness" but never actually 'why unhappiness?'. I think I felt it implied a connection that was more permanent or attached then we had wanted. Why is implies something intimate. I also got the feeling he didn't want to tell me.
It occurred to me that Stephen is really a genuinely nice man, and kind, and he may just be asking me why out of politeness. I very well could be pulling that intimacy shit out of thin air. Still, he asked, so I was going to answer.
'Martial issues, but thats nothing new. How was yours?' Hit send, and half the eggnog was gone when he replied.
'My marriage, or my Christmas?' I couldn't help but laugh when I read his reply. What a smartass.
'Both?'
'Neither are great.' I rolled this over in my mind. How to reply to it?
'Shame on you Stephen, you're clearly on Santa's naughty list.' Too much of this serious talk--we aren't used to it. I reverted to our old standby: awkward flirting.
'If I'm on it, you're on it with me.' That got a smile out of me.
'I'm on it too, right under you.'
'You under me is a great place for you to be.' I smiled again at my phone, giddy and flirty and suddenly glad I had texted him. It felt amazing to know he was flirting back, that no matter how much my husband ignored me, I could get this man's attention. It was empowering. I realized I needed to delete these texts immediately after our conversation, I couldn't risk my husband finding them.
'You could be under me, you know. Santa can run his list both ways. He's the boss.'
'If Santa put you on top of me, he deserves to be the boss.'
'I don't need Santa to get on top of you.'
'What do you need then?'
I froze at this, reading it again quickly, wishing I could hear his tone. A plane ticket would be the obvious answer.
'A teleporter' was cuter. I went with that.
'I'll have my people get on that right away.' I laughed at this, because I could see him saying it, his eyes smiling at me, a shake of his finger.
I let my phone sit for a moment while I went inside for another drink, and a blanket. The night had darkened and settled in around me, and while the weather was warm for December, there was a chill in the air. I looked out over our lake when I returned, to the houses on the other side, glittering and flashing with Christmas lights. I glanced at the phone--no text message waiting. It was close to midnight, and he might have simply turned in for the night. New Years was soon. What would the next year bring me? Would it bring me Stephen, again? Would I even want that? Frustration.
I picked up the phone and thumbed through the conversation over the last 30 minutes, reading each one again, smiling. I tapped out a message.
'Night Stephen. Thanks for chatting. I needed the distraction tonight. Have a Happy New Year.' It was more honest than we had been in the past, but I thought it was appropriate. A few moments later, he replied.
'Goodnight Kat! I needed it too. Happy New Years!'
I read it slowly. He needed it too. For one of the first times, I began to wonder about him the same question he asked me--why?
Pairings/Characters: Stephen/Other
Rating: PG13
Warnings: None
Summary: Neither Kathryn or Stephen are having a good holiday
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.
Authors Note: This is a short chapter!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
The message I sent was short, and to the point--wishing him a merry Christmas, saying I just wanted to say hello. I tossed my phone down on the granite patio top, and took another deep hit off my joint. I felt my stress and anxiety recede a bit, but I knew it was temporary. Still, it felt good to rest a little, propping my feet up on the table and staring up at the winter sky. I found my brain skipping forward to the upcoming New Years holiday, not on my plans (because I had none) but on what the upcoming year might bring me. If you had told me a year before that I would have suspicions my husband was cheating on me, that I was depressed and unhappy and worried I developing a school girl crush on a very unavailable man, and that I had actually slept with that man...well, I would have laughed at you, I think. I frankly had no idea what this new year would bring me, but I suspected it would have something to do with him.
My phone buzzed on the table. I sat up quickly and reached for it, simultaneously relieved and nervous that he might have texted me back.
'Merry Christmas to you too! I am in SC with family. How was yours?' I read it three times, quickly, in a row.
I mulled it over. Honest, or polite? It was usually a hard decision with Stephen, but we always seemed to choose polite, at least when it came to our personal lives.
'Not my best, but the kids had a great one.' That was a cop-out, but I wasn't sure what to say. If he was simply being polite, then he didn't need or want any real answer, so spinning it positively gave him an out to ignore the answer if he wanted. After I sent that one, I sent a second immediately afterwards--'how is SC?'
I took the time to go in the house and make a cup of spiked eggnog and head back out. When I sat back down, I sat the blinking light indicating a text, waiting for me. He had answered both texts in one.
'SC is good, weather is nice, I have been boating. Why not your best?'
I swallowed. Why? In our relationship, friendship, agreement--whatever it was--we had never once asked each other why. It was a word that we just didn't use. We stepped around it with our unhappy references, maybe acknowledging them silently, or reading between the lines in a word, or a tone, gathering a second meaning that implied "unhappiness" but never actually 'why unhappiness?'. I think I felt it implied a connection that was more permanent or attached then we had wanted. Why is implies something intimate. I also got the feeling he didn't want to tell me.
It occurred to me that Stephen is really a genuinely nice man, and kind, and he may just be asking me why out of politeness. I very well could be pulling that intimacy shit out of thin air. Still, he asked, so I was going to answer.
'Martial issues, but thats nothing new. How was yours?' Hit send, and half the eggnog was gone when he replied.
'My marriage, or my Christmas?' I couldn't help but laugh when I read his reply. What a smartass.
'Both?'
'Neither are great.' I rolled this over in my mind. How to reply to it?
'Shame on you Stephen, you're clearly on Santa's naughty list.' Too much of this serious talk--we aren't used to it. I reverted to our old standby: awkward flirting.
'If I'm on it, you're on it with me.' That got a smile out of me.
'I'm on it too, right under you.'
'You under me is a great place for you to be.' I smiled again at my phone, giddy and flirty and suddenly glad I had texted him. It felt amazing to know he was flirting back, that no matter how much my husband ignored me, I could get this man's attention. It was empowering. I realized I needed to delete these texts immediately after our conversation, I couldn't risk my husband finding them.
'You could be under me, you know. Santa can run his list both ways. He's the boss.'
'If Santa put you on top of me, he deserves to be the boss.'
'I don't need Santa to get on top of you.'
'What do you need then?'
I froze at this, reading it again quickly, wishing I could hear his tone. A plane ticket would be the obvious answer.
'A teleporter' was cuter. I went with that.
'I'll have my people get on that right away.' I laughed at this, because I could see him saying it, his eyes smiling at me, a shake of his finger.
I let my phone sit for a moment while I went inside for another drink, and a blanket. The night had darkened and settled in around me, and while the weather was warm for December, there was a chill in the air. I looked out over our lake when I returned, to the houses on the other side, glittering and flashing with Christmas lights. I glanced at the phone--no text message waiting. It was close to midnight, and he might have simply turned in for the night. New Years was soon. What would the next year bring me? Would it bring me Stephen, again? Would I even want that? Frustration.
I picked up the phone and thumbed through the conversation over the last 30 minutes, reading each one again, smiling. I tapped out a message.
'Night Stephen. Thanks for chatting. I needed the distraction tonight. Have a Happy New Year.' It was more honest than we had been in the past, but I thought it was appropriate. A few moments later, he replied.
'Goodnight Kat! I needed it too. Happy New Years!'
I read it slowly. He needed it too. For one of the first times, I began to wonder about him the same question he asked me--why?