TITLE: Six Feet Tall and Beautiful
GENRE: Drama/humor
CHARACTERS: Hank, Karen, Becca
PAIRING: Hank/Karen
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: None
WORDS: 650
SUMMARY: "This is it, okay. I'm not just gonna wake up one day and be like her – six feet tall and beautiful." A loaded conversation between Hank and Karen after the end of episode 3x06 'Glass Houses'.
"This is it, okay.
I'm not just gonna wake up one day and be like her
– six feet tall and beautiful."
"You already are beautiful."
The last syllable of the word 'fucker' still rang through his head and the smile lingered on his face, while his fingers were in her hair and that kiss tasted just too perfect. Like home. Like all he ever wanted to do, was just be lazy here with her. Nowhere to be, nothing to do, nobody else to screw.
The kiss ended because their lips parted, but it sure as hell didn't in his head. His eyes still closed, he murmured an almost exhausted 'mhmhhm' against the wonderfully mild Californian late-night air and just waited until he felt her delicate fingers against his stubble again.
He opened his eyes and saw her smile. Big and beautiful, just like her eyes. He watched her for a moment; in awe and too fucking lucky.
He swallowed, never allowing his eyes to wander just one inch away from her. His thoughts had already wandered off miles away, though. "She thinks she's not beautiful. Becca. Said she'll never be tall and beautiful like you are."
"She's perfect," Karen just replied with an expression a little more somber, shaking her head. "Despite being a teenage nightmare."
"She is. Perfect, I mean. And a nightmare." He smiled at her, but it hardly reached his eyes. His head felt heavy and he slowly put it down on the armrest of the wooden chair, letting his hair be petted by her. "Why would she say something like that?"
Her fingers drew some lazy circles on his temple. "She's a teenager, Hank. It's a confusing time."
"Just that? The way she said it, she seemed a little too sure of it."
"You know, she sees you with all these women. Beautiful, charming. She's probably wondering where her place is in all that."
Her touch still felt the same, soft and loving, but her words certainly hit a little harder. He brought his head up again, looking her in the eyes. "So you're saying it's my fault."
She smiled that disarming smile that always got him. Made him weak in the balls or something. "I'm just saying she is the result of what she sees and knows."
"So you're saying it's my fault."
"She's competing for her father's attention. For your love. Wondering whether she has to look or be a certain way to get it." Still, she said it so calmly, so softly. Not a sign of anger. Weird.
"But she doesn't have to compete with anyone," he defended himself. "I love her more than anything."
"I know. That's just probably not how it feels for her."
He ran his hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut. Why was life so fucking confusing? He felt her fingers back in his hair. "It's okay," she whispered and he could almost hear her smile. That sweet, irresistible Karen smile again.
He looked at her, not able to hide his own grin. "We fucked her up. We threw both of our fucked-up-ness together in a pot, stirred and created her. We created a monster." He didn't mean it. Just a little maybe.
It made her laugh. "I like to think that all the monster genes came from you."
"Oh, so you're a clean soul?"
"Yes," she breathed and turned her answer into a kiss, cupping his face with both of her hands. Still home. Still only her. Nowhere to be, nothing to do, nobody else to screw. He liked the taste of that.
"I'm not a monster," he tried to make clear in between stages of this far too awesome kiss. "I'm beautiful too. Deep down. Very deep down. Almost invisible."
"Yes, you are. You are beautiful, Henry James Moody."
"I hate it when you call me that."
Well, no. She was the only one who somehow made it sound sexy. Beautiful even.
"I like you like this."
"What, all defeated and shit?"
THE END