“Oh—ah—um… Yeah, Katie, sure.” Freddie’s body almost collapses with defeat, his shoulders and head melting down into his body as he makes his way towards the door.
“Kate!” Pepper blurts out, drawing the attention of the room. Herman holds his breath upon seeing his wife’s sudden change of expression—meek to near hysterical. She hates lots of attention all at once. “K-… Kate. Would you… like, the… well, the brownies—,”
“Ah! Yes!” Kate leans her head to the side, staring at his wife like she’s some sort of child. Herman grinds his teeth. “Thank you for reminding me!"
And then they’re alone again; Freddie’s back disappears behind the automatic door and Pep scurries off to dig up the brownies she ‘made’. Lucy Palmer dropped them by this morning…
Kate is back on him again as soon as the silence swallows them up, her odd eyes daring him to make a sound of protest as she makes her way around the table with slow, deliberate steps.
She sits beside him, plopping down loudly into the seat where Pepper had sat previously. She’s close, too close for his comfort; the smallest brush of her arm touches at his bicep.
With a movement too fast for him to deflect, her hand is on his knee, patting it lightly.
“Hey!” He snaps out of reflex, tensing against her approaching face.
Though she doesn’t kiss him like he had thought she would do—not on his lips at least. Herman’s back stiffens in alarm as Kate presses a warm, lingering kiss at the corner of his jaw, just beside his ear—the way her hand squeezes his knee in unison with the kiss makes a gasp hiss through his teeth.
“I like you.” She whispers.
Her words are so juvenile, so strangely childish and familiar that a shiver runs down Herman’s back, his fingers digging into the chair beneath him.
His wife isn’t in the kitchen, his son not waiting out in the hall just beyond the front door—he is here beside this girl, her lips brushing along his earlobe as she leans away from him, her heat leaving him like a sigh.
He is 16 again, in a dark closet with Ellen, fumbling with the zipper of his vault suit, trying not to laugh at her drunken giggling.
Herman turns slowly to the seat next to him, where she once was. She is gone, smiling at his wife by the door with a plate of brownies tucked under her arm, backing out into the hall.
Kate’s eyes, dark and loaded with challenge, are the last thing he sees of her before the door hisses shut.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Criminal 2c/?
Date: 2012-07-13 09:14 am (UTC)“Kate!” Pepper blurts out, drawing the attention of the room. Herman holds his breath upon seeing his wife’s sudden change of expression—meek to near hysterical. She hates lots of attention all at once. “K-… Kate. Would you… like, the… well, the brownies—,”
“Ah! Yes!” Kate leans her head to the side, staring at his wife like she’s some sort of child. Herman grinds his teeth. “Thank you for reminding me!"
And then they’re alone again; Freddie’s back disappears behind the automatic door and Pep scurries off to dig up the brownies she ‘made’. Lucy Palmer dropped them by this morning…
Kate is back on him again as soon as the silence swallows them up, her odd eyes daring him to make a sound of protest as she makes her way around the table with slow, deliberate steps.
She sits beside him, plopping down loudly into the seat where Pepper had sat previously. She’s close, too close for his comfort; the smallest brush of her arm touches at his bicep.
With a movement too fast for him to deflect, her hand is on his knee, patting it lightly.
“Hey!” He snaps out of reflex, tensing against her approaching face.
Though she doesn’t kiss him like he had thought she would do—not on his lips at least. Herman’s back stiffens in alarm as Kate presses a warm, lingering kiss at the corner of his jaw, just beside his ear—the way her hand squeezes his knee in unison with the kiss makes a gasp hiss through his teeth.
“I like you.” She whispers.
Her words are so juvenile, so strangely childish and familiar that a shiver runs down Herman’s back, his fingers digging into the chair beneath him.
His wife isn’t in the kitchen, his son not waiting out in the hall just beyond the front door—he is here beside this girl, her lips brushing along his earlobe as she leans away from him, her heat leaving him like a sigh.
He is 16 again, in a dark closet with Ellen, fumbling with the zipper of his vault suit, trying not to laugh at her drunken giggling.
Herman turns slowly to the seat next to him, where she once was. She is gone, smiling at his wife by the door with a plate of brownies tucked under her arm, backing out into the hall.
Kate’s eyes, dark and loaded with challenge, are the last thing he sees of her before the door hisses shut.