Enough | PG | The Hours
Title: Enough
Prompt: that day at the park
Challenge: 100 Fic Challenge (#7)
Fandom: Laura/Kitty, The Hours
Requested by: hot_4_hahn
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1089
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: It's always kind of a big deal for me to write about The Hours -- the book and the movie have impacted me in such a profound way. Each of the three women in the movie has special significance to me, so this fic is something very close to me. I hope I managed to do this wonderful, beautiful character justice. My characterization of her is also very reminiscent of the book version, which isn't too different. If you haven't read the book, I highly recommend it! Please let me know what you think and enjoy!
-
Laura Brown watches her son as he kneels in the grass and flies his small plastic rocket ship, pursing his lips as he mimics the sounds he imagines a rocket to make. He glances back at her every few minutes as if to assure himself that she is still watching him. She cannot tear her eyes away for more than a few brief moments. If she does, if Richie convinces himself that he is losing her interest, he will undoubtedly find a patch of grass closer to where she sits. She fears losing the space she has earned for herself and forces her eyes to remain fixed upon him. It is a compromise she has no choice in making.
The wool blanket is itchy beneath her knees. It is too hot under the midday sun for stockings so she has gone without. She fears that she is, once again, a poor example of what a woman should be and hopes that she will be forgiven by some unseen judge.
Kitty is sitting beside her. She is wearing nylons. She is, as usual, everything that Laura is not. She is everything that Laura wants to be.
She is everything that Laura wants.
Though Laura is unable to spare more than an infrequent glance at Kitty for fear of being compromised, she is overwhelmingly aware of her presence. They sit no closer than is seemly, but even that is closer than the distance to which she is daily accustomed. They see each other more often than they used to, for which Laura is grateful.
It had never occurred to her how very alone Laura felt until she'd been faced with the possibility of Kitty's extinction. Now, whenever she has the opportunity, she insists that Kitty remain in her company. She flushes with pleasure to know that Kitty wants the same.
They talk about safe things, like the weather or what Laura's reading or the gossip in town, or sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes the silence says more than Laura ever truly could. They don't talk about things like Dan or Ray. It's better that way.
Richie drops the rocket and lurches forward, his fingers combing through marvelously green blades of grass. He plucks at something and, after inspecting it in his tiny open palm, runs back toward the blanket. "Mommy! Mommy! Look!" he cries, his face alight with the brand of delight that belongs only to children.
Though Laura and Kitty are not touching, Laura moves away slightly as if she's been caught doing something wrong.
"What is it, bug?" she asks when he stops abruptly at the edge of the blanket. She lifts her hand to block the sun from her eyes while she studies his face. She expects to see an accusation upon his young, handsome features, but instead she sees nothing but an overwhelming desire to please. "Show mommy what you found."
He extends his hand and shows her the tiny blue violet in his fist.
Laura smiles. "What a good eye you have!" she preens, knowing that he relishes her compliments. "What a pretty flower!"
"It's for you," he adds. He scuffs his shoe in the grass as if he worries that she will decline his gift.
Kitty plucks it from his hand. "I wish I had a flower as lovely as this!" Kitty exclaims, twirling it in her fingers. Three pairs of eyes watch the whirl of blue above finely manicured nails. Kitty leans forward and tucks the flower into one of Laura's copper curls. "There now -- isn't she the prettiest girl you ever saw, Richie?"
Richie nods shyly, as if it is his flower alone that has transformed Laura from a mother into a beautiful woman.
Laura insists a little too sharply that Richie return to his rocket. She cannot help her brashness; her pale cheeks are now undoubtedly slashed with color at the compliment and she feels as though she's been spied in her undergarments.
"Oh Laura," Kitty laughs. It is not judgmental or accusatory. It is simply Kitty's breathless way of allowing her name to pass over her lips.
Laura touches her neck, now damp with perspiration. Though Kitty touched only a strand or two of her hair, Laura feels tingles throughout her entire body. She wonders if this is what a proper wedding night must feel like.
The two women watch as Richie, on his hands and knees, scans the grass, presumably for a flower to give to Kitty. Laura secretly holds out hope that he will find another simply so she will have an excuse to touch Kitty's hair.
His khaki shorts are caught beneath his knees. There will be grass stains to wash when they return home. Laura is grateful for this impending chore: she will relish the distraction. Dan will muse that she's simply caught up the duties of a housewife and will be none the wiser to Laura's inability to breathe. It is a feeling to which is now accustomed. When Kitty goes home to her separate life, Laura must struggle to fight for air in a life that is slowly suffocating her. She is indebted to mundane chores that allow her to daydream about the life that is going on without her.
Suddenly, as if to catch Laura in her traitorous fantasies, the child within her begins to move. She feels it press up against her belly and imagines the fetus stretching, imposing itself into each corner of her womb to mark its territory. Laura gasps; the child is particularly active today.
Laura casts her eyes around her, convincing herself that no one was watching. When she feels secure enough, she takes Kitty's hand and places it on her stomach. "Feel that?"
Kitty's cheeks flush. "Oh! Isn't that something?" Drawing her legs closer to her body, Kitty scoots closer. Their knees touch. "What does it feel like?"
"It feels…strange." Laura smiles. The child squirms again, forcefully pressing against her belly. "I think it likes you."
Kitty beams and flicks her eyes playfully to Laura's. "Like its mother?"
Laura flushes with color. She nods. The child is beginning to calm itself, its movements becoming more infrequent. Kitty's hand remains firmly pressed to her stomach long after the movements cease.
This innocent touch is everything to Laura. It's every kiss, every caress, every term of endearment that she wishes to give to Kitty but cannot.
In this moment, it is enough. Richie is happy. The fetus is growing stronger. Kitty is healthy. Kitty loves her.
It is enough.
---
Prompt: that day at the park
Challenge: 100 Fic Challenge (#7)
Fandom: Laura/Kitty, The Hours
Requested by: hot_4_hahn
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1089
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: It's always kind of a big deal for me to write about The Hours -- the book and the movie have impacted me in such a profound way. Each of the three women in the movie has special significance to me, so this fic is something very close to me. I hope I managed to do this wonderful, beautiful character justice. My characterization of her is also very reminiscent of the book version, which isn't too different. If you haven't read the book, I highly recommend it! Please let me know what you think and enjoy!
-
Laura Brown watches her son as he kneels in the grass and flies his small plastic rocket ship, pursing his lips as he mimics the sounds he imagines a rocket to make. He glances back at her every few minutes as if to assure himself that she is still watching him. She cannot tear her eyes away for more than a few brief moments. If she does, if Richie convinces himself that he is losing her interest, he will undoubtedly find a patch of grass closer to where she sits. She fears losing the space she has earned for herself and forces her eyes to remain fixed upon him. It is a compromise she has no choice in making.
The wool blanket is itchy beneath her knees. It is too hot under the midday sun for stockings so she has gone without. She fears that she is, once again, a poor example of what a woman should be and hopes that she will be forgiven by some unseen judge.
Kitty is sitting beside her. She is wearing nylons. She is, as usual, everything that Laura is not. She is everything that Laura wants to be.
She is everything that Laura wants.
Though Laura is unable to spare more than an infrequent glance at Kitty for fear of being compromised, she is overwhelmingly aware of her presence. They sit no closer than is seemly, but even that is closer than the distance to which she is daily accustomed. They see each other more often than they used to, for which Laura is grateful.
It had never occurred to her how very alone Laura felt until she'd been faced with the possibility of Kitty's extinction. Now, whenever she has the opportunity, she insists that Kitty remain in her company. She flushes with pleasure to know that Kitty wants the same.
They talk about safe things, like the weather or what Laura's reading or the gossip in town, or sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes the silence says more than Laura ever truly could. They don't talk about things like Dan or Ray. It's better that way.
Richie drops the rocket and lurches forward, his fingers combing through marvelously green blades of grass. He plucks at something and, after inspecting it in his tiny open palm, runs back toward the blanket. "Mommy! Mommy! Look!" he cries, his face alight with the brand of delight that belongs only to children.
Though Laura and Kitty are not touching, Laura moves away slightly as if she's been caught doing something wrong.
"What is it, bug?" she asks when he stops abruptly at the edge of the blanket. She lifts her hand to block the sun from her eyes while she studies his face. She expects to see an accusation upon his young, handsome features, but instead she sees nothing but an overwhelming desire to please. "Show mommy what you found."
He extends his hand and shows her the tiny blue violet in his fist.
Laura smiles. "What a good eye you have!" she preens, knowing that he relishes her compliments. "What a pretty flower!"
"It's for you," he adds. He scuffs his shoe in the grass as if he worries that she will decline his gift.
Kitty plucks it from his hand. "I wish I had a flower as lovely as this!" Kitty exclaims, twirling it in her fingers. Three pairs of eyes watch the whirl of blue above finely manicured nails. Kitty leans forward and tucks the flower into one of Laura's copper curls. "There now -- isn't she the prettiest girl you ever saw, Richie?"
Richie nods shyly, as if it is his flower alone that has transformed Laura from a mother into a beautiful woman.
Laura insists a little too sharply that Richie return to his rocket. She cannot help her brashness; her pale cheeks are now undoubtedly slashed with color at the compliment and she feels as though she's been spied in her undergarments.
"Oh Laura," Kitty laughs. It is not judgmental or accusatory. It is simply Kitty's breathless way of allowing her name to pass over her lips.
Laura touches her neck, now damp with perspiration. Though Kitty touched only a strand or two of her hair, Laura feels tingles throughout her entire body. She wonders if this is what a proper wedding night must feel like.
The two women watch as Richie, on his hands and knees, scans the grass, presumably for a flower to give to Kitty. Laura secretly holds out hope that he will find another simply so she will have an excuse to touch Kitty's hair.
His khaki shorts are caught beneath his knees. There will be grass stains to wash when they return home. Laura is grateful for this impending chore: she will relish the distraction. Dan will muse that she's simply caught up the duties of a housewife and will be none the wiser to Laura's inability to breathe. It is a feeling to which is now accustomed. When Kitty goes home to her separate life, Laura must struggle to fight for air in a life that is slowly suffocating her. She is indebted to mundane chores that allow her to daydream about the life that is going on without her.
Suddenly, as if to catch Laura in her traitorous fantasies, the child within her begins to move. She feels it press up against her belly and imagines the fetus stretching, imposing itself into each corner of her womb to mark its territory. Laura gasps; the child is particularly active today.
Laura casts her eyes around her, convincing herself that no one was watching. When she feels secure enough, she takes Kitty's hand and places it on her stomach. "Feel that?"
Kitty's cheeks flush. "Oh! Isn't that something?" Drawing her legs closer to her body, Kitty scoots closer. Their knees touch. "What does it feel like?"
"It feels…strange." Laura smiles. The child squirms again, forcefully pressing against her belly. "I think it likes you."
Kitty beams and flicks her eyes playfully to Laura's. "Like its mother?"
Laura flushes with color. She nods. The child is beginning to calm itself, its movements becoming more infrequent. Kitty's hand remains firmly pressed to her stomach long after the movements cease.
This innocent touch is everything to Laura. It's every kiss, every caress, every term of endearment that she wishes to give to Kitty but cannot.
In this moment, it is enough. Richie is happy. The fetus is growing stronger. Kitty is healthy. Kitty loves her.
It is enough.
---