Disclaimer: This isn't mine in any way, shape or form.
Chapter Summary: Andrew and Bree have a little discussion about Keith. A post-ep for "Pleasant Little Kingdom."
Coda: Season Seven
A story by Ryeloza
Nine: Little Kingdom
Andrew Van de Kamp sat on the edge of his chair, arms folded on his knees in an attempt to look rapt with attention as his mother babbled on about possibilities for Christmas dinner. It reminded him of being a small child. He and Danielle would silently pester one another in the back seat of the car while their mother went on and on about ham versus turkey and soups and salads. It was a game—who would crack first and make a peep; who would be the one to break the diatribe from the front seat. He kind of wished Danielle was here now, subtly rolling her eyes behind their mother's back while he struggled to remain composed.
He always found himself missing his sister at the most random moments.
In the grand scheme of things, Andrew had long ago let go of any bitterness he held toward his childhood. When he was younger, he wholeheartedly resented his mother's regime, the way she ruled over their little kingdom with an iron first. Now he knew that it was just her desperate attempt to save their family because she was so worried that their world was about to fall apart. She had been right, in the end. Those tiny cracks added up over time, and ultimately there was no way to hold the pieces together.
Apropos to nothing, his mother suddenly paused, glancing down at her tea for a moment, and then quietly announcing, "Keith wants to propose to me."
Andrew frowned. He had the sudden, laughably embarrassing image of introducing Keith as his stepfather and had to resist the urge to cringe. "You're not going to accept?" he blurted out incredulously.
"You don't think I should?"
"Why would you?"
"I…" Andrew stared at her rather hard, and whatever she was going to say, she seemed to rethink it. "…care for him."
"Come on, Mom. I think we both know he's a rebound."
"Why does everyone seem to assume that?"
Andrew bypassed mentioning that Keith was only ten years older than he was—the argument didn't hold much water anyway—and aimed for something that might sting a little more. "Let's face it. He's eye candy. You don't marry eye candy." Involuntarily, a laugh sputtered from him. Never in a million years would he have anticipated having this conversation with his mother. It was one for the history books.
"That's not true. He's kind and sweet and nice—"
"All synonyms."
"He cares about me."
"And that makes a marriage?"
She gave him that Andrew, you're on the verge of exasperating me look that he'd seen regularly since the time he was two, but he could see something in her eyes that suggested she wasn't quite as put out as she was pretending to be. She wanted his honest opinion, he realized. At what point had he become his mother's confidant?
"He makes me happy, Andrew. Doesn't that count for anything?"
Sighing, Andrew sat back in his seat and ran a hand over his face. "Of course. Mom, you should do whatever you think is right." He tried and failed to smile encouragingly. Something like a hard rock had settled in the pit of his stomach; a belated (or perhaps repressed) grief. Andrew was seldom maudlin or nostalgic, but he had a sudden, unfulfilled longing for his family. It seemed like ever since his father had died they had slowly drifted apart. For awhile, he thought Orson might have been able to mend the damage, but then Danielle had gotten pregnant and he'd felt like outsider and then everything had gone to hell so fast. Sometimes—not often—he wondered what their lives would have been like if his father hadn't died…
It didn't matter. There was no going back. And the way his mother was moving forward now was just another reminder of that.
Their little kingdom had been fractured forever.
