Superglue
Fandom: Jake 2.0
Pairing: Kyle/Diane
Rating: PG, angst
Series: Part of the, for want of a better title, Sotto Voce universe, all of which can be found at my site The Band Gazebo
Notes: For profshallowness, whose prompt was something Diane-centric, and she’s holding something broken in her hand.
It’s either the cold of a
And when he slides his key into her apartment door and walks in to find tears streaming down her cheeks, he feels even worse.
He can hear himself spewing excuses as he takes off his coat and scarf, throwing them over the couch, apologising for being late, telling her about Jake and LaFortunata and the bad traffic, and he’s halfway to taking her in his arms when she shakes her head, waving a hand. “It’s fine, Kyle,” she says. “I’m just…”
She doesn’t say anything else, just sighs and looks down, but the wave of her hand has alerted Kyle to what she’s holding, and when he looks down at her hands to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him, he realises just why she’s so upset.
In her left hand, there is a china figurine, an angel’s wings and head, delicate features topped with curly brown hair.
In her right is the bottom half of the figurine, and even if he hadn’t seen it adorning her mantelpiece on a previous Christmas, Kyle would know that it wasn’t a two-piece figure.
“Oh,” he says softly, and, if anything, the dismay in his voice must make Diane feel worse, because more tears flood her already red-rimmed eyes.
“It’s fine,” she says again, placing the two parts of the figurine down on the coffee table, looking at it dolefully. “I’m just being sentimental…”
“No,” Kyle tells her, taking her in his arms. “You’re not.”
Because he’s seen the figurine before and
knows where it came from. Knows that her mother had given it to her as a
Christmas present years ago, that she’d seen it in a little craft shop in Bar
Harbour and had bought it, struck by its unmistakable resemblance to her
daughter. Knows that every Christmas since then, Diane has taken it out, put it
in pride of place on her mantelpiece, has even carried it home with her when
she goes back to
Except this Christmas.
Because this Christmas, she can’t face the thought of going home for the holidays and being reminded that her mother would never be there again, hasn’t been able to think about joining her father at her sister’s house down the street. Can’t stand the thought of all the old familiar rituals made strange by her mother’s absence.
That’s what she’s said to him every time he’s tried to talk to her about going home, and, knowing form long experience how futile it is to argue with her when her mind is made up, he’s let it slide. He’s gone along with the plans she’s making for the two of them, has helped her shop and ship her presents, agreed to help her decorate her apartment tonight, the small space just right, she’s said, for a cosy Christmas for two. But Kyle knows Diane, has seen the hurt in her eyes, the pain that’s just barely simmering under the surface, and he’s known that it’s going to have to break sometime.
He just wishes that it wasn’t like this, over something that meant so much to them both.
Her arms slide around his waist, making fists in his suit jacket, and her face is buried in his shoulder. Her slim body shakes with sobs, and one hand makes its way up and down her back as the other cradles her head, and he whispers words that she can’t hear and he won’t remember, just so that she can focus on his voice rather than the ache in her heart.
Eventually, her sobs subside, but she still holds him tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I know I’m being silly…”
He shakes his head, but he doesn’t release his grip on her. “No, you’re not.”
“It’s just…” She continues as if he hadn’t said anything. “I miss my mom, Kyle… I miss her so much.”
“I know.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and this time, he does pull back to look at her, lifting one eyebrow. “It’s not too late, you know,” he tells her. “There’s time before Christmas… we can still make reservations, fly up there…” Because in the unlikely event that every flight was booked, an NSA badge was an excellent way of still being able to travel, and while the brass likely wouldn’t look kindly on it, if it made Diane smile, it would all be worth it.
Turns out it doesn’t even take that much, because the very edges of her lips turn up. There’s even the vague hint of that smile lurking somewhere in her eyes, which makes him feel even better, and for a moment, he’s wondering which pocket his credentials are in, and can he fish them out without taking one arm from around Diane? Then her head moves slowly from side to side, and her voice is very small when she speaks. “I can’t… not this year.”
The hand that would have reached for his badge moves to her cheek instead. “If you change your mind…”
She leans into his touch, just for a moment, then turns her eyes back to the ruined figurine. “It was just… seeing that… when I opened the box… all I could think of was when she gave it to me…” A pained chuckle. “I could almost smell the Christmas tree… and my first thought was to wonder how I was going to tell her.” Another pause, but no chuckle and the eyes that look up at him are dry and hollow. “There are so many things I wish I could tell her… about work, about my day… about us…”
His hands land on her shoulders, squeeze gently. “She knows, Di,” he says, and even though it sounds like a platitude, he really does believe it. “She knows.”
To his surprise, a giggle rises in her throat. “She’s probably rolling her eyes right now… telling me to stop sobbing all over you…”
The second she says it, he can hear her mother uttering those very words, and he laughs, pulling her into another quick hug. “Well, I’d hate to get us in trouble with your mom,” he says. Taking a step back from her, he appraises the figurine critically. “You’ve got superglue around here, right?” She looks curious, and he gives her the look that he usually reserves for Jake when he’s missing something obvious. “Diane, I was a kid with two brothers and lots of friends who plays ball in the house all the time… does that sound like someone unfamiliar with gluing china back together?”
She laughs again, but instead of going to fetch the superglue, she steps closer to him, slides her arms around his waist. “Why am I not surprised?” she murmurs, and he shrugs, one hand going of its own accord to her hip, the other sliding from her shoulder to the small of her back, lingering there.
“I’ll put it all back together again… you won’t even know it was broken,” he promises, and there’s a funny look on her face, in her eyes, when she answers.
“Sounds familiar,” she observes, and it takes him a second to figure out what she means.
Then he gets it.
A chance meeting in a parking garage, followed by the best months of his life.
The most amicable break-up in history, followed by friendship.
An emergency phone call, a last minute flight to Bar Harbour; Diane shivering in his arms on a beach under the August sun, Diane’s cheek soft to his touch, the urge to kiss her overpowering.
Diane in his arms at Thanksgiving, rolling her eyes as he muttered sourly at a victory for the Dallas Cowboys, sliding onto his lap and insisting that she knew how to make him forget that result, not wasting any time in doing just that.
Diane in his arms right now, smiling up at him, her fine features no longer pale and pained, but smiling up at him, every inch the woman he remembered falling for in that parking garage.
And he smiles, bringing his lips to hers, and thereafter no words are necessary.