Steak & Soulmates
Title: Steak & Soulmates
Author: etgoddess
Fandom: Original Series
Pairing(s): OC/OC
Rating: R
Summary: Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.
Author's Note: An original one-shot. Music credit goes to Rascal Flatts' Riot. Cross-posted to Fiction Press.
It’s way too early,
(you barely know him)
the night he watches you stuff steak in your face and smile around the huge chunk you’re chewing,
When he cocks his head and his gorgeous blue eyes soften and he tells you,
(“You’re the one. I’m gonna marry you.”)
You laugh and tell him he’s crazy and stuff your face some more
(but you tuck that in the back pocket you don’t have in this dress)
And it occurs to you,
(now is the prescribed moment to panic)
now is usually when you happily flee
(but you just want to hold his hand)
You’re not sure he ever felt like a stranger,
You just know you wanted to hang on him and even while you grieved the last
(he felt like home)
Which was a blessing but is now a curse,
Lifetimes later when he’s not around,
When it’s not your place,
(when you still haven’t gotten past was and used-to-be)
Back when he was yours
(and you wouldn’t say shit because the one before made you believe you didn’t deserve home or hope or happiness)
You’re not sure you know what home is
(you don’t know how to settle)
You haven’t figured out how to let someone take care of you
(because somewhere in your head you’ve convinced yourself that no one loves you like you love them, no one will hold you up when you’re crumbling to dust)
But you know that he’s always been comfortable, familiar, and safe, long before he had any business making you feel that way
You’re sure he doesn’t even remember the night-
The dinner wasn’t significant
(post-court hearing and pre-meet everyone at the bar)
The majority of the conversation revolved around the suction cup shower step he’d decided you were investing in.
There’s no reason this particular night should haunt you but it does.
(maybe this is when you started lying to yourself)
Maybe this is when you started believing your lies.
Maybe it’s the moment you decided you would save him from yourself if it killed you
(if it tore your pumping heart clean out of your chest mid-beat)
You’ve never been that codependent person
(but you avoided grocery shopping for three weeks after he left because you couldn’t force yourself to do it without him)
And you didn’t eat for days because your stomach was too busy roiling
(although hindsight insists that may have been the hormones)
You see him, in the yard with a toddler, an unsteady little man, in the nursery with a yawning little girl that will forever be Daddy’s Princess,
Your son has his eyes, his deviance, your daughter his kindness,
(that both makes you love him and drives you crazy when he’s throwing money at every hobo in Penn Station)
Because we need to pay rent this month too sweetheart.
And you never thought of yourself as that woman who yearns for babies, who pictures their Daddy rocking them to sleep and holding onto them as they float in the pool
(or wearing matching drool marks as Daddy and Baby doze on the bed in front of the TV)
But you’ll take pictures of that precise sight and you’ll blink back tears and hug yourself
(because you are that woman and you wish you’d known this sooner)
And regardless of his douchebaggery and the sheer want you have to punch him in the throat
(“Unfortunately how much I love you has no correlation to how much you suck.”)
He will always be the father of your baby and you’re past playing games and coy words
(your love for him is unconditional of his behavior)
You don’t approve but your heart is used to ignoring you.
So you love him in spite of yourself, in spite of rationality, in spite of every reason you have not to
He saved you
(remember that?)
He saved you when you were drinking yourself neatly to death between jobs.
He did that.
Before he knew
(before you knew)
what he was doing he was pulling you out of the hole you’d buried yourself in
(hiding from life, from pain, from feeling)
good, bad, or indifferent.
He rescued you from the smothering numbness,
from the choking darkness, from the tide that dragged you away from reality
(it was so easy, so much easier)
under the water.
He floated you towards the sunlight and you went,
blinking, spluttering, squinting in the overwhelming bright
(all the light, all the warmth, all the sensation)
good, bad, or indifferent.
You fought it
(kicked, screamed, bit)
Like you fight all change
But he barely blinked, never mind gave up.
This is the man you fell in love with
(the man who told you you’re beautiful, who told you he loved you, and then showed you)
With a shoulder, with a hand, with coffee at 5 AM.
The man whose eyes you looked into and you yearned to be better,
To be what he needed, what he deserved
(to return a fraction of what he’d never know he’d done for you)
Maybe that’s it, that elusive concept of soulmates,
the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else,
someone who makes you a better person, or rather, you do that yourself
-because they inspire you.
Someone you carry with you forever.
The one person who knew you, and accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would.
And no matter what happens…you’ll always love them.
And love him you do.
It’s certainly not because you should, or because it’s easy, you just do
(like that obnoxious, they’re family and you’re stuck with them, kind of love)
Faults, mistakes, and all.
And while you don’t say, “I love you”, like a normal person,
(instead you’ll laugh, shake your head, give him a little smile, and say, “you’re an idiot”)
If you tell him he’s an idiot, he’s a lucky man.
And somewhere between steak and soulmates, you realized you're a lucky woman.
Author: etgoddess
Fandom: Original Series
Pairing(s): OC/OC
Rating: R
Summary: Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.
Author's Note: An original one-shot. Music credit goes to Rascal Flatts' Riot. Cross-posted to Fiction Press.
It’s way too early,
(you barely know him)
the night he watches you stuff steak in your face and smile around the huge chunk you’re chewing,
When he cocks his head and his gorgeous blue eyes soften and he tells you,
(“You’re the one. I’m gonna marry you.”)
You laugh and tell him he’s crazy and stuff your face some more
(but you tuck that in the back pocket you don’t have in this dress)
And it occurs to you,
(now is the prescribed moment to panic)
now is usually when you happily flee
(but you just want to hold his hand)
You’re not sure he ever felt like a stranger,
You just know you wanted to hang on him and even while you grieved the last
(he felt like home)
Which was a blessing but is now a curse,
Lifetimes later when he’s not around,
When it’s not your place,
(when you still haven’t gotten past was and used-to-be)
Back when he was yours
(and you wouldn’t say shit because the one before made you believe you didn’t deserve home or hope or happiness)
You’re not sure you know what home is
(you don’t know how to settle)
You haven’t figured out how to let someone take care of you
(because somewhere in your head you’ve convinced yourself that no one loves you like you love them, no one will hold you up when you’re crumbling to dust)
But you know that he’s always been comfortable, familiar, and safe, long before he had any business making you feel that way
You’re sure he doesn’t even remember the night-
The dinner wasn’t significant
(post-court hearing and pre-meet everyone at the bar)
The majority of the conversation revolved around the suction cup shower step he’d decided you were investing in.
There’s no reason this particular night should haunt you but it does.
(maybe this is when you started lying to yourself)
Maybe this is when you started believing your lies.
Maybe it’s the moment you decided you would save him from yourself if it killed you
(if it tore your pumping heart clean out of your chest mid-beat)
You’ve never been that codependent person
(but you avoided grocery shopping for three weeks after he left because you couldn’t force yourself to do it without him)
And you didn’t eat for days because your stomach was too busy roiling
(although hindsight insists that may have been the hormones)
You see him, in the yard with a toddler, an unsteady little man, in the nursery with a yawning little girl that will forever be Daddy’s Princess,
Your son has his eyes, his deviance, your daughter his kindness,
(that both makes you love him and drives you crazy when he’s throwing money at every hobo in Penn Station)
Because we need to pay rent this month too sweetheart.
And you never thought of yourself as that woman who yearns for babies, who pictures their Daddy rocking them to sleep and holding onto them as they float in the pool
(or wearing matching drool marks as Daddy and Baby doze on the bed in front of the TV)
But you’ll take pictures of that precise sight and you’ll blink back tears and hug yourself
(because you are that woman and you wish you’d known this sooner)
And regardless of his douchebaggery and the sheer want you have to punch him in the throat
(“Unfortunately how much I love you has no correlation to how much you suck.”)
He will always be the father of your baby and you’re past playing games and coy words
(your love for him is unconditional of his behavior)
You don’t approve but your heart is used to ignoring you.
So you love him in spite of yourself, in spite of rationality, in spite of every reason you have not to
He saved you
(remember that?)
He saved you when you were drinking yourself neatly to death between jobs.
He did that.
Before he knew
(before you knew)
what he was doing he was pulling you out of the hole you’d buried yourself in
(hiding from life, from pain, from feeling)
good, bad, or indifferent.
He rescued you from the smothering numbness,
from the choking darkness, from the tide that dragged you away from reality
(it was so easy, so much easier)
under the water.
He floated you towards the sunlight and you went,
blinking, spluttering, squinting in the overwhelming bright
(all the light, all the warmth, all the sensation)
good, bad, or indifferent.
You fought it
(kicked, screamed, bit)
Like you fight all change
But he barely blinked, never mind gave up.
This is the man you fell in love with
(the man who told you you’re beautiful, who told you he loved you, and then showed you)
With a shoulder, with a hand, with coffee at 5 AM.
The man whose eyes you looked into and you yearned to be better,
To be what he needed, what he deserved
(to return a fraction of what he’d never know he’d done for you)
Maybe that’s it, that elusive concept of soulmates,
the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else,
someone who makes you a better person, or rather, you do that yourself
-because they inspire you.
Someone you carry with you forever.
The one person who knew you, and accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would.
And no matter what happens…you’ll always love them.
And love him you do.
It’s certainly not because you should, or because it’s easy, you just do
(like that obnoxious, they’re family and you’re stuck with them, kind of love)
Faults, mistakes, and all.
And while you don’t say, “I love you”, like a normal person,
(instead you’ll laugh, shake your head, give him a little smile, and say, “you’re an idiot”)
If you tell him he’s an idiot, he’s a lucky man.
And somewhere between steak and soulmates, you realized you're a lucky woman.