The Love Song of Norman Bates

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Hello there! In case you missed the update on my profile here, I've recently become a huge fan of Soul Bates. Normally, I try to stop my incest ships at siblings, but this mother/son pairing is so canon I hopped on board the ship.

In this fic, though it can at times be disturbing and strange, I aim to give Norman and Norma their happily ever after. AU from the last episode of S2, and fairly long. I do plan to finish my other fanfics eventually, but it's been very hard to link together what I know is going to happen with what has happened already. I promise I'm still alive, and working.

I hope you enjoy this, and in case it wasn't obvious... INCEST ABOUNDS AHEAD.

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.*o0o*.

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"Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky,

Like a patient etherized upon a table..."

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It wasn't until later that Norma realized her mistake. She'd been so desperate, then so relieved, that she hadn't considered the consequences of her actions.

After all, she would do anything to keep Norman with her; they had to be together.

Their lips separated and still she felt the need to crush him to her, holding on to him as she tried to suppress the wave of despair that threatened to consume her. Five words finally freed her from it, the fear in her belly unfurling, easing in the wake of his voice.

"All right, Mother. ...You win."

The rest of the day was spent fawning over him, her precious boy that she had nearly lost to the darkness; it was her greatest fear, that the shadow inside him would win. A wholesome dinner was prepared, dishes cleaned side by side, and she shooed him off to the shower as he kissed her cheek.

Norma listen to the pipes running and clanging, changing into her robe. She brushed out her hair and laid down, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression as her mind's eye filled with visions of Norman behind the solid walls of a prison, bullied and terrified, unprotected. It couldn't be allowed.

The faucet squeaked; the water stopped. Clean and fresh in his pajamas, Norman walked into her room, and she moved aside for him without a word, curling towards his solid warmth as he settled next to her. Her head fit easily into the notch of his neck and shoulder, and she breathed his scent deeply. Sleep was absent as they cuddled and stroked, gazing at each other in shared dread of the test to come the next morning. There was no sound but the scrape of clothing against sheets, the rasp of her thumb caressing his cheek, and their quiet breaths.

It was nearly dawn when they finally fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, too exhausted and distressed to separate for even a moment.

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And all my days are trances,

And all my nightly dreams

Are where thy grey eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams

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Norma woke to the sun straining her vision, and her eyes snapped open, trying to focus on the clock. The face read half past nine in the morning, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she turned onto her back, still secure in Norman's arms. What strange dreams had been in her head; a faceless man, long limbs, sleepy kisses, and contentment. Dreams bled into reality as she became aware of her son holding her.

"Good morning, Mother," Norman rumbled sleepily. His long arms squeezed her closer momentarily, and the next second he was leaning on his elbow, hovering over her.

"Norman?" she murmured, her hands automatically rising. One gripped his bicep, the other cupped his cheek; her first impulse was always to pull him closer.

She wasn't surprised when he leaned down to kiss her, but she was when he lingered, his lips caressing hers for an unusually long time. When he pulled back, she stared up at his open and serious face, still inches from her own. "I love you, Mother. More than anything."

After a stunned silence, she smiled brightly up at him. "I love you too, Norman." There was a moment when she was looking up at him, his lips curved up into a drowsy smile, that she forgot her anxiety and fear. "You're the best part of my life." Then the fright came rushing back as she considered that she might still lose him. Sitting up slightly, Norma gestured to the clock on the nightstand. "We've got an hour and a half before we have to be there for the polygraph."

His expression fell slightly. "I'll... I'll go get dressed."

Norma's heart squeezed painfully in her chest. He was sure he wouldn't be coming home with her, even more sure than she was; he thought he was guilty. "You're innocent, Norman," she whispered, as he stood. He responded with a skeptical frown, which she decided to ignore. "Norman, honey? Wear something nice. That blue shirt and the blazer? You always look so handsome in blue."

"Of course, Mother." He did give her a genuine, if small, smile with a little laugh. "You can use the restroom first. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Rinsing off quickly in the shower, Norma set her hair, threw on a pretty dress, and went about making Norman's favorite breakfast, hotcakes and bacon. It was a hold over from her Midwestern upbringing that she called them that; hotcakes, not pancakes. Francine was raised in Missouri, she remembered, deep down in the Ozarks where the bacon and eggs were fresh and the milk was raw. In the good days, when Norma was two or three years old, she'd make them hotcakes every Sunday before she and Caleb would put on their church clothes and they'd sit repentant on a wooden pew.

Norma didn't know at the time what sins they were atoning for, but now she could remember all too clearly.

She shoved those thoughts from her mind as she heard Norman entering, his presence behind her dragging her into the present. "Do you need me to help, Mother?" he asked quietly, his breath stirring the hair behind her ear as his hand found her waist.

Shivering, she turned and leaned back slightly, looking into his blue eyes, the eyes she passed on to him. "No... No, sweetheart. Sit down and I'll bring it to you."

Chair legs scraped on linoleum, and she heard him settling into his seat at the head of the table. She stacked three steaming hotcakes and brought them to her youngest son, pouring maple syrup over them as he looked at her adoringly. "Thank you, Mother," he uttered quietly, the intensity of his gaze making her legs shake.

She shook her head slightly. "You're welcome." The squat pitcher thudded against the table as she put it down, looking at him a little too intensely as she licked the excess syrup from her hand and sat across from him.

Meeting his gaze, Norma took a sip of her hot tea, struggling with herself internally. Something felt... off. She found herself suddenly, inappropriately hyper-aware of Norman; his gaze, his body, his smell, his touch. She had awakened something inside herself with that kiss. It was something dark and shameful, buried deep inside where it should have stayed buried.

She took a breath, unsure what would come out when she spoke, but stopped when Dylan walked in. Instead, she smiled wanly. "Hey, Dylan, good morning!" she exclaimed with false cheer. "Sit there next to Norman. Would you like some hotcakes?"

Her oldest son looked like he would protest for a moment, but in the end he sat next to Norman and gave her the normal morning she craved.

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"And indeed there will be time

To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'

Time to turn back and descend the stair..."

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Norma barely registered how quiet Norman was on the drive home, she was so giddy. He had passed the test; he would be staying with her, they would be together as they should be. "See, I told you! I told you that you were innocent, Norman!" she exclaimed as they pulled into their drive. She gripped his hand tightly as the engine cut out, eyes sparkling.

Dylan rolled his eyes slightly. "Like we ever doubted it." He patted Norman's shoulder, gripping it solidly before he left the car and headed back up to the house.

Norma watched him go for a moment before turning back to Norman with a beatific smile on her face. She embraced him and kissed his cheek, giggling with the rush of adrenaline and endorphins his reprieve had brought on. "I'm so relieved-

"Mother, wait..."

She pulled back, expression falling. "What is it, honey?"

"Dylan... he's not in the house yet."

Eyebrows knitting together, Norma pondered this confusing statement. "What...why does that matter, Norman?"

Now he was smiling devilishly, clearly amused by something. "Well, you don't want him to see us, do you?" he asked, looping his arm over her shoulders as Dylan disappeared inside the front door.

"What? He always sees us," Norma responded, confusion still written all over her face as she leaned into his touch.

Norman laughed, finally infected by Norma's joyous relief, and embraced her properly, pressing his face into her neck and kissing it. His lips closed over the soft spot below her ear, his teeth digging gently into her skin as she lost her balance, swooning into him with a throaty groan. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her skin erupted in goosebumps, and needy dampness spread between her legs. "Mother," he nearly growled, pulling her closer.

With a jolt, Norma pulled away, fumbling as she attempted to pull the handle, face flushing brightly. "I'm- I'm sorry, Norman," she said, cursing her poor coordination.

"Mother, what's wrong?"

She felt shame rushing over her intensely. He had no idea what he was doing; she was taking advantage of her youngest son in the worst possible way.

She was worse than even Caleb.

A sob erupted from Norma's lips as she finally opened the traitorous door, stumbling out into the blinding sunlight that illuminated all her sins. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed out, hand rising to cover her mouth. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's all right, Mother, just let me-" His hand smoothed over her back and she immediately leaned back against him. "What happened?"

Telling him would be impossible; she could never let him know. She allowed him to support her for a moment, his arm wrapping around her waist as she wiped her tears. "It's just been a stressful day, Norman," she said, defeat heavy in her voice. "I'll be fine. I just need to get into the house."

His arm tightened around her and he urged her gently forward. "Of course, Mom."

Norma let him lead her up the stairs, taking a kind of perverse solace in the solidity of his frame. He opened the door for her and took her jacket, hanging it on the coat rack and turning expectantly towards her with a somewhat hopeful expression. "I think I'm going to lay down for a while," she said quietly, unable to meet his eye. He let her go without another word.

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.*o0o*.

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To Be Continued...

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Quotes taken from

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

"To One in Paradise" by Edgar Allan Poe