Title: "Finishing Last"
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisitayahoo.com
Fandom: OLTL
Rating/Classification: PG, Todd/Kelly-ish, filler, angst.
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: A filler ficlet for a fifteen second pause. Takes place in Viki's cabin, as Todd comforts Kelly after Paul's murder.
There aren't a whole lot of things he hates more than crying women. Lemon poppy seed muffins. Kevin. Politics. When the Phillies lose. But, yeah, crying women are up there on the list. He hates to watch their lips tremble and their cheeks get wet and he doesn't know what to do except pat them, awkwardly, and mutter, "There, there."
He knows he doesn't sound sincere. How can he? He hates it. He's bad at it.
Hell, he grew up hating women in general, regardless of whether or not they cried. He can blame misogynist nature and nurture for that. Although, he won't. He knows what he's done, why he's done it. How much pain he's caused. And Victor Lord and Peter Manning can't take all the credit. He's done some unspeakable, heinous things all on his own.
But he's gotten better. He's changed. He is different now. The first time he held Starr...the first time he and Blair really made love. How it's killing him right now to be away from Viki when she's so sick. He thinks...he might actually qualify as a "nice guy" sometimes.
Kelly certainly seems to think so, staring up at him, all damp and her nose turning red. She called him. Him. Not her loving moron of a husband. She needed him.
She's looking at him like he's a hero.
Like he's never held a woman down, never been the cause of tears.
Blair looked at him that way today, too. It was in her face, in her eyes. The word "reconciliation" was right there on the tip of her tongue. He'd been right on the verge of winning his wife and kids back when his cell phone went off.
If he wasn't a nice guy sometimes, he would've hung up on Kelly, right? He would've let her sit in that hotel room with her brother's cooling corpse, right? He would have looked out for number one and he'd be taking Blair to bed right now instead of feeling the heat from the fire and watching Kelly's lips part, listening to her take in that little gasp of air that, in any language on earth, means "kiss me."
And he wouldn't be taking her chin in his palm, feeling the softness of her skin, and leaning down to do it.
Okay. There's one thing he definitely hates more than women who cry. Or Kevin Buchanan.
Himself.
--end—
May 23, 2004.
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisitayahoo.com
Fandom: OLTL
Rating/Classification: PG, Todd/Kelly-ish, filler, angst.
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: A filler ficlet for a fifteen second pause. Takes place in Viki's cabin, as Todd comforts Kelly after Paul's murder.
There aren't a whole lot of things he hates more than crying women. Lemon poppy seed muffins. Kevin. Politics. When the Phillies lose. But, yeah, crying women are up there on the list. He hates to watch their lips tremble and their cheeks get wet and he doesn't know what to do except pat them, awkwardly, and mutter, "There, there."
He knows he doesn't sound sincere. How can he? He hates it. He's bad at it.
Hell, he grew up hating women in general, regardless of whether or not they cried. He can blame misogynist nature and nurture for that. Although, he won't. He knows what he's done, why he's done it. How much pain he's caused. And Victor Lord and Peter Manning can't take all the credit. He's done some unspeakable, heinous things all on his own.
But he's gotten better. He's changed. He is different now. The first time he held Starr...the first time he and Blair really made love. How it's killing him right now to be away from Viki when she's so sick. He thinks...he might actually qualify as a "nice guy" sometimes.
Kelly certainly seems to think so, staring up at him, all damp and her nose turning red. She called him. Him. Not her loving moron of a husband. She needed him.
She's looking at him like he's a hero.
Like he's never held a woman down, never been the cause of tears.
Blair looked at him that way today, too. It was in her face, in her eyes. The word "reconciliation" was right there on the tip of her tongue. He'd been right on the verge of winning his wife and kids back when his cell phone went off.
If he wasn't a nice guy sometimes, he would've hung up on Kelly, right? He would've let her sit in that hotel room with her brother's cooling corpse, right? He would have looked out for number one and he'd be taking Blair to bed right now instead of feeling the heat from the fire and watching Kelly's lips part, listening to her take in that little gasp of air that, in any language on earth, means "kiss me."
And he wouldn't be taking her chin in his palm, feeling the softness of her skin, and leaning down to do it.
Okay. There's one thing he definitely hates more than women who cry. Or Kevin Buchanan.
Himself.
--end—
May 23, 2004.
