Unexpected (1 and 2/?) - a series of vignettes
I posted this at FFnet last week, but I thought I should post it here too.
Title: Unexpected (1 and 2/?)
Author: kaylle
Rating: PG-13 (to be safe)
Words: 1,212
Pairing: Robert/Giselle, some musings on Robert/Nancy and probably later on Giselle/Edward
This is just a series of short vignettes; I'll probably keep adding to it over the next few weeks. It's a bit of an experiment for me, as I've never been able to write things and instantly pronounce them finished, and I've never been able to write very short things. I'm finding it quite liberating, although I'm surprised to find myself writing Enchanted fanfic, and I feel a little silly. At any rate, I hope you enjoy. :)
UNEXPECTED
By Kaylle
~*~
Things are so much stranger in this place, this New York. So much stranger, harsher, sharper angles and sharper words than she is used to. There is no gloss in this place, none of the effortless joy of the world she knows.
And yet, there are things here that she's never known there. And they aren't all bad.
Like anger. It's a new sensation, heat and frustration and fury, so much rougher and rawer and more powerful than anything she's ever felt before. She's so startled by the feeling, and then fascinated by it, that she can't stay angry with him. Joy bubbles inside her, and she reaches out to him, her fingers landing on his chest. And anger and joy instantly become something else, something she has no word for at all, something warm and aching and entirely new. It hangs shivering in the air between them, and her fingers move against his chest, trying to learn what he feels like, trying to make sense of any of it. And then she looks up at him, and she's so certain that he's going to kiss her-- so caught in this spell between them, the sudden flush beneath her skin and the weird foreign tension in her body-- that the sudden loss of contact between them is a shock. She stumbles back, sinks awkwardly to the chair, wraps her arms protectively around her body.
Of course she can't kiss him. Edward is coming for her, no matter what Robert says, and Robert is going to marry Nancy. But in this moment, remembering Robert's skin so warm under her fingers and his face close to hers, in this moment she can't quite recall what Edward looks like. It has only been a day, after all. Perhaps that isn't quite enough time to commit his face to memory. Robert seems to think it isn't enough time to know someone before getting married.
And her feelings for Edward are softer than what she's feeling now, sweeter, simpler. Perhaps they simply cannot withstand the onslaught of thoughts like this, of anger and whatever it was there between her and Robert. She still has no word for it, but it was powerful and beautiful and terrifying and she can feel it still, aching inside her, and she wishes she understood.
Of course she can't kiss him. It's wrong to kiss a man when you're engaged to another one. It's wrong to want to kiss a man when you're engaged to another one. The entire concept is foreign to her. She doesn't quite have a word for it, but she suspects Robert would, and she suspects it's an ugly word.
"Oh, my," she whispers, because there are so many things in this New York that are frightening and so many words she doesn't know. And yet... She shivers with the memory and wonders if she'll ever feel that way again, and she wonders if she'll miss New York when she goes home.
~*~
It's strange now, when he looks back, that he and Nancy stayed together for as long as they did. In the beginning he'd been a single father, struggling to make sense of Caroline's desertion, to make sense of his new life and the infant child he found entrusted to him. Morgan had been only a few months old. Who knew raising a baby alone was so much more difficult when you were alone? The first six months had been terrible. Looking back, the memory is only a blur. Sleepless nights and endless days at the firm, punctuated by moments of clarity and a joy so fierce it took his breath away-- when Morgan smiled at him, learned the word Dada, took her first steps. Suddenly he was a daddy, in a way he hadn't been before Caroline left; suddenly he was all Morgan had. His performance at work suffered and his social life evaporated, because Morgan had no one to depend upon but him.
And then there was Nancy, a friend of a friend, and he let her draw him out of his exile and back into the world. She was sanity and adult contact in a world populated by stuffed animals and cartoon characters, and he latched on to her, desperate for any kind of companionship. Nancy was smart and pretty and funny, and if she didn't quite take to Morgan the way he'd hoped, well, perhaps that was to be expected. They'd only been dating for a short while. Maybe it was just too much, so early in the relationship, to expect her to play surrogate mother as well as newfound girlfriend. She was never cruel to Morgan, or even insensitive. Perhaps that was enough.
And if he wasn't exactly... well, passionate about her, maybe that was all right as well. He'd been passionately in love with Caroline, in the beginning, and look where that had gotten him. He liked Nancy, he respected her, and they were good together. Perhaps that was enough.
He shied away from romantic gestures-- sending flowers, going out dancing, declarations of love. Caroline had demanded those things, and he'd been happy to oblige her, but he knew now that they were a fantasy, and his relationship with Nancy was grounded in reality. He focused on getting to know her: how she saw the world, what she was good at and how he could help her, what she loved, what loves they shared.
And after five years, it seemed only logical that they should get married. She was practically the only mother Morgan had ever known, if a distant one. They were comfortable together. He knew her, and she knew him, and they knew what they were getting into.
Had it taken meeting Giselle to make him realize how ridiculous that sounded? That comfortable wasn't enough, not nearly, and that romance and passion were far more important than he wanted to admit. He understands now that Caroline's departure scarred him, that remembered pain made it difficult for him to care for anyone except Morgan. Difficult to believe that love could be different, could exist without ending. So he'd held himself a little apart from Nancy, a little removed, kept a little space around his heart.
He isn't sure why she was willing to settle for that, when he was too afraid to love her in the way she wanted. No wonder she'd been drawn to Edward, dramatic Edward who made romantic gestures without thought and was utterly sincere. After five years of reasoned, methodical, careful interaction, throwing caution to the wind and eloping must have been exhilarating.
But he thinks of Giselle, of the ring he put on her finger only a few weeks after the ball, and smiles a little. Perhaps he knows something of throwing caution to the wind and making grand romantic gestures after all.
~*~
[I named Robert's ex-wife Caroline. I had to name her something.]
Thoughts, concrit, etc. are welcome :)
Title: Unexpected (1 and 2/?)
Author: kaylle
Rating: PG-13 (to be safe)
Words: 1,212
Pairing: Robert/Giselle, some musings on Robert/Nancy and probably later on Giselle/Edward
This is just a series of short vignettes; I'll probably keep adding to it over the next few weeks. It's a bit of an experiment for me, as I've never been able to write things and instantly pronounce them finished, and I've never been able to write very short things. I'm finding it quite liberating, although I'm surprised to find myself writing Enchanted fanfic, and I feel a little silly. At any rate, I hope you enjoy. :)
UNEXPECTED
By Kaylle
~*~
Things are so much stranger in this place, this New York. So much stranger, harsher, sharper angles and sharper words than she is used to. There is no gloss in this place, none of the effortless joy of the world she knows.
And yet, there are things here that she's never known there. And they aren't all bad.
Like anger. It's a new sensation, heat and frustration and fury, so much rougher and rawer and more powerful than anything she's ever felt before. She's so startled by the feeling, and then fascinated by it, that she can't stay angry with him. Joy bubbles inside her, and she reaches out to him, her fingers landing on his chest. And anger and joy instantly become something else, something she has no word for at all, something warm and aching and entirely new. It hangs shivering in the air between them, and her fingers move against his chest, trying to learn what he feels like, trying to make sense of any of it. And then she looks up at him, and she's so certain that he's going to kiss her-- so caught in this spell between them, the sudden flush beneath her skin and the weird foreign tension in her body-- that the sudden loss of contact between them is a shock. She stumbles back, sinks awkwardly to the chair, wraps her arms protectively around her body.
Of course she can't kiss him. Edward is coming for her, no matter what Robert says, and Robert is going to marry Nancy. But in this moment, remembering Robert's skin so warm under her fingers and his face close to hers, in this moment she can't quite recall what Edward looks like. It has only been a day, after all. Perhaps that isn't quite enough time to commit his face to memory. Robert seems to think it isn't enough time to know someone before getting married.
And her feelings for Edward are softer than what she's feeling now, sweeter, simpler. Perhaps they simply cannot withstand the onslaught of thoughts like this, of anger and whatever it was there between her and Robert. She still has no word for it, but it was powerful and beautiful and terrifying and she can feel it still, aching inside her, and she wishes she understood.
Of course she can't kiss him. It's wrong to kiss a man when you're engaged to another one. It's wrong to want to kiss a man when you're engaged to another one. The entire concept is foreign to her. She doesn't quite have a word for it, but she suspects Robert would, and she suspects it's an ugly word.
"Oh, my," she whispers, because there are so many things in this New York that are frightening and so many words she doesn't know. And yet... She shivers with the memory and wonders if she'll ever feel that way again, and she wonders if she'll miss New York when she goes home.
~*~
It's strange now, when he looks back, that he and Nancy stayed together for as long as they did. In the beginning he'd been a single father, struggling to make sense of Caroline's desertion, to make sense of his new life and the infant child he found entrusted to him. Morgan had been only a few months old. Who knew raising a baby alone was so much more difficult when you were alone? The first six months had been terrible. Looking back, the memory is only a blur. Sleepless nights and endless days at the firm, punctuated by moments of clarity and a joy so fierce it took his breath away-- when Morgan smiled at him, learned the word Dada, took her first steps. Suddenly he was a daddy, in a way he hadn't been before Caroline left; suddenly he was all Morgan had. His performance at work suffered and his social life evaporated, because Morgan had no one to depend upon but him.
And then there was Nancy, a friend of a friend, and he let her draw him out of his exile and back into the world. She was sanity and adult contact in a world populated by stuffed animals and cartoon characters, and he latched on to her, desperate for any kind of companionship. Nancy was smart and pretty and funny, and if she didn't quite take to Morgan the way he'd hoped, well, perhaps that was to be expected. They'd only been dating for a short while. Maybe it was just too much, so early in the relationship, to expect her to play surrogate mother as well as newfound girlfriend. She was never cruel to Morgan, or even insensitive. Perhaps that was enough.
And if he wasn't exactly... well, passionate about her, maybe that was all right as well. He'd been passionately in love with Caroline, in the beginning, and look where that had gotten him. He liked Nancy, he respected her, and they were good together. Perhaps that was enough.
He shied away from romantic gestures-- sending flowers, going out dancing, declarations of love. Caroline had demanded those things, and he'd been happy to oblige her, but he knew now that they were a fantasy, and his relationship with Nancy was grounded in reality. He focused on getting to know her: how she saw the world, what she was good at and how he could help her, what she loved, what loves they shared.
And after five years, it seemed only logical that they should get married. She was practically the only mother Morgan had ever known, if a distant one. They were comfortable together. He knew her, and she knew him, and they knew what they were getting into.
Had it taken meeting Giselle to make him realize how ridiculous that sounded? That comfortable wasn't enough, not nearly, and that romance and passion were far more important than he wanted to admit. He understands now that Caroline's departure scarred him, that remembered pain made it difficult for him to care for anyone except Morgan. Difficult to believe that love could be different, could exist without ending. So he'd held himself a little apart from Nancy, a little removed, kept a little space around his heart.
He isn't sure why she was willing to settle for that, when he was too afraid to love her in the way she wanted. No wonder she'd been drawn to Edward, dramatic Edward who made romantic gestures without thought and was utterly sincere. After five years of reasoned, methodical, careful interaction, throwing caution to the wind and eloping must have been exhilarating.
But he thinks of Giselle, of the ring he put on her finger only a few weeks after the ball, and smiles a little. Perhaps he knows something of throwing caution to the wind and making grand romantic gestures after all.
~*~
[I named Robert's ex-wife Caroline. I had to name her something.]
Thoughts, concrit, etc. are welcome :)