SLIGHT TRIGGER WARNING.

For a week, married life seemed almost too perfect. They settled into a natural, familiar routine, their separate lives intertwining just enough, crashing into each other every night like they'd been separate for weeks. Alex was everything she'd ever wanted in a husband, and for once, Norma Bates was happy. He was kind and attentive and affectionate, and Norma was working hard to let down her walls. That tiny tremor of her past still lingered though, even if only ever so slightly, and she couldn't stop the flicker of guilt that passed through her whenever he appeared out of nowhere and she flinched. It was learnt behaviour, but one that was starting to dissipate as she grew more comfortable with him. Still, Norma found herself watching Alex sometimes when he wasn't looking, narrowing her eyes at him over her coffee cup, watching while he read the paper, looking for any sign of what was going to go wrong. And then she caught herself, and chastised herself, because she was happy, and they were happy and Alex was perfect.

It was almost a relief to find that he wasn't.

Something was going on at work, that much was obvious, but Alex didn't say what, and Norma knew not to ask. In truth, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Whatever it was was enough to make Alex stare at the wall, his jaw tight, his eyes haunted when he thought she wasn't looking and she had enough on her plate without taking on someone else's suffering.

Doctor Edwards had called several days ago to tell Norma that Norman was making fantastic progress and she could visit in the next few days, if she wanted to. She hadn't told Alex yet because he seemed to have enough on his mind at the moment, though she resolved to tell him before she went.

He was hastily scribbling notes one night after dinner while she washed the dishes, shooting him uncertain glances, taking in his furrowed brows and heavy shoulders as he poured over police reports. She dried her hands on her apron, padding over to him gently and wrapping her arms around him from behind, leaning down to rest her cheek on the top of his head. He puffed out a gentle sigh, his hand clutching at her arm across his chest, his whole body sagging.

"You ok?" She asked softly and he shook his head after a long pause.

"There's a girl. She's gone missing." He spoke quietly, his tone low and mournful.

"From round here?" She whispered into his hair, wondering why she hadn't heard about it.

"No. One town over. Beacon Hills. They called us in. They don't have much experience with this sort of thing. They thought we could help." His bitter tone told her that they hadn't been able to help.

"How long?"

"Three days." He said immediately. "After twenty four hours..." His voice trailed off. She knew the end of that sentence. She watched the news.

Her arms tightened around him, desperately wanting to comfort him but not knowing how.

"I'm sorry." She murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"Me too."

Her hands drifted lower, uncrossing themselves from where they had been wrapped around his shoulders, sliding a little lower down his chest.

"Come to bed." She whispered seductively in his ear, letting her lips graze the shell of his ear as she spoke. He tensed, his hands grasping hers lightly, stopping their tentative path down his chest.

"I... I have alot of work to do. I'll be up in a bit."

Her arms withdrew immediately, and she tried not to take it personally, tried not to let herself feel hurt by his not wanting to take her to bed. They had had one blissful, perfect week, before he took on this upsetting case and withdrew into himself. A tiny dark voice was trying to tell her that he had already grown bored of her, that he was pulling away, but she didn't listen to that voice anymore. The rational part of her knew that it was just because he was exhausted and disheartened by the case, but she had also selfishly wanted his comfort tonight, wanted to feel his calming effect on her, before she set out for her difficult day tomorrow. She couldn't tell him now though and the words stuck in her throat.

"Ok." She started brightly, taking her apron off and hanging it by the oven. "Just try not to wake me when you come up. I'm... I have alot of errands tomorrow so I'll be getting up early. Goodnight." She leaned down to lightly peck him on the lips before she flounced up the stairs, lying awake into the early hours before she heard his footfall on the stairs, pressing her eyes closed and pretending to be asleep.

She was up and out the next day before he had even stirred, no mean feat when she shared a bed with the earliest riser she'd ever known. She dressed quickly and quietly, glancing at Alex's peaceful face the whole time, wishing he would wake up and she could tell him where she was going and selfishly have him forget his own sadness and wish her luck. He didn't wake though, so she silently swept down the stairs, making a fresh pot of coffee for him and heading out towards Pineview.

Hours later, and Norma was making dinner, or at least trying to. She had thrown one pot of marinara sauce out already, stirring it absently with the heat turned up high, not noticing as it burnt and stuck to the pan under her lacklustre care.

She started on another, staring vacantly into the vat of crimson, trying not to think about her visit with her youngest son. It hadn't been anywhere near as bad as she thought, but she still felt unsettled, like the rug had been pulled out from under her, just as she was getting settled on it.

"Doctor Edwards says I might be able to come home soon."

"Oh honey, that's wonderful!" She had cooed, because she thought he was lying and it was best to humour him. However, a quick chat with Doctor Edwards on the way out had confirmed that he was indeed making great progress, and that Doctor Edwards thought that they were looking at weeks rather than months before Norman could come home. The thought sent a bittersweet fear into Norma's heart.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't hear Alex come in and she jumped as she felt his hands on her. He grasped her hips lightly for a second, before he stepped forward, one hand wrapping around her waist, the other sliding to the front of her hip, yanking her back against his body. Their embrace felt different somehow, there was a hunger in his movements that she hadn't felt from him in the last few days, not since...

"We found her." He said simply, against her ear and she span round in his arms immediately, catching his beaming smile and returning it with one of her own, briefly forgetting her own troubles.

"Oh Alex. That's great. Is she ok?" He nodded tightly in reply, his hands already snaking down her back, resting on her ass, pulling her against him, making it clear he didn't plan on going into the details of the case right now. She froze, sensing his intention, the events of the day flooding back to her, filling her with thoughts of her son and a growing ache of anxiety.

"Alex, I-" She started, cut off as he kissed her, no pretence of tenderness, his desperation and longing evident in the intensity. She kissed him back, somewhat reluctantly at first, her arms coming up to naturally wrap around his neck, and he slid them a few inches to the side to avoid the heat of the hob, pressing her back against the counter, grinding himself against her.

Despite being distracted by her day, she felt her body respond, arching her back as his hands pressed against her lower back, pulling her hard against him.

"I missed you." He ground out against her neck, his teeth nipping and dragging across her flesh, and her head dropped back, letting him get better access. They had seen each other less than a day ago, but she knew what he meant. Since taking on this case, he'd been distracted, distant, and had barely touched her, and though it had only been a few days, it felt like a lifetime of a break in their honeymooners schedule of love-making.

His hands were back at her waist, untucking her shirt from her skirt, sliding his hands across the smooth flesh of her back underneath and she tensed up a little, rearing her head back as she realised his intention.

"Not here." She said, a slight question in her tone, as his hands slunk lower, his mouth never leaving her throat as he starting to inch up the voluminous fabric of her skirt.

He growled, grasping her hips tightly through his handfuls of paisley cotton, jerking her towards him as he took a step back away from the counter.

"Yes. Here." He demanded, pulling her with him as he took another step back. She complied, half annoyed at his sudden demanding nature, half incredibly turned on as her hands swept up and down his biceps, mewling at the feel of his hands digging in even tighter around her hips. She forgot about her horrible day, and about her worries about her son, breathing hard as she let herself be pulled forwards, pretending to be annoyed but secretly loving relinquishing control to him.

"Alex-" She started, about to playfully tell him off, pretend that she wasn't incredibly aroused by this new little game they were playing, when he cut her off by spinning them both around suddenly, and then spinning her again so she had her back to him, all in one smooth movement. She gasped as he gathered her skirt up in one hand, the other hand sliding up to roughly palm her breast through her shirt, his breath hot and heavy in her ear. She felt herself melt again, her body softening, allowing herself to be pulled back against him, wantonly rubbing her ass against the undeniable bulge in his pants.

"I need you." He panted out, sounding desperate and broken and frantic and she shivered at his words, preparing to turn round again in his arms when she was suddenly bent over, his hand pressing hard against the centre of her back, pushing her down against the kitchen table. Her mood changed the second her cheek made contact with the cold formica surface, her arousal leaving her as if it had never been there, her body frozen with fear and revulsion. In a split second, it wasn't Alex behind her, but Keith Summers. It was no longer her loving husband who was rubbing himself against her ass, running his hands up and down her back gently, it was Keith Summers, the air filled with violence and cheap whiskey.

Her breaths came fast and shallow, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember how she had felt only moments before. She had wanted this. She'd wanted him to touch her. Why couldn't she shake this panic, this fear, this terror that took over her whole body, making her feel like she was dying, like she was thirteen and lost and vulnerable all over again?

She was furious with herself. This was over. This was done with. She wasn't supposed to feel like this anymore. Alex had made it all go away. And that's what she told herself, trying not to tremble as he slid her panties down her legs, his hands still firmly stroking up and down her back, gently holding her down, his movements still desperate and frantic, but never rough or harsh.

It wasn't as simple as that though. It didn't just go away, especially not in the spot where her new life had been so callously ripped away from her by Keith Summers. Her fingers flexed helplessly against the frigid plastic, the rest of her body still, apart from the trembling that she was trying desperately to stop.

You're fine. He needs you right now. Stop being selfish. Stop being crazy.

She turned her face, pressing her forehead against the table, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall, just as she felt him lean over her, his chest brushing against her back for a second, his movements slowing from their furious pace.

His hands slid to cover hers as he leaned down, pressing a kiss against her shoulder blade through her shirt.

"I love you." He whispered, and she let out a little tearful gasp, muffled against the fornica. He pulled back, and she heard the clink of a belt being undone and she took a deep breath, having a sudden moment of clarity. Once he realised she state she was in, he would never forgive himself. If she didn't feel like she owed it to herself, she at least owed it to him to be honest.

"Stop." She whispered, hearing his movements cease behind her. The sudden silence in the room was deafening and her breaths seemed absurdly loud, panting out too fast and shallow against the table, her fingers flexing shakily.

"I think I'm having a panic attack." She blurted out honestly, glancing over her shoulder to see him staring down at her in horror as she crumbled, her legs sliding out from under her, her body sinking to the floor as she burst into tears. Her tears turned to ragged sobs in the matter of seconds, her lungs heaving to pull in enough oxygen, her body shaking from the effort of not just shutting down.

Her eyes were clamped shut, her hands pressed over them, so she felt, rather than saw, him sink to his knees next to her, knowing his hands would be shakily reaching for her, assuming he would snatch them back, not wanting to touch her. So she was surprised when she felt his hands confidently wrap around her shoulders, pulling her against him. She didn't resist when he slid her trembling body across his legs, pulling her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"It's ok. It's ok." He whispered over and over again, and after a few minutes, she started to believe it, feeling her body finally begin to unfurl from the tight ball she had been rolled into, relaxing into his touch. One hand was gently stroking her hair, the other tenderly rubbing up and down her arm, his face pressed against the top of her head, and she gradually became aware that he had been whispering to her this whole time. She had barely registered before, the only sound she could hear being the rapid fluttering of her heartbeat in her ears.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. It's ok. You're safe. I'm sorry." He was muttering a string of neverending reassurances, his own voice sounding broken as he held her, his own hands trembling now.

"I'm sorry." She choked out, feeling a wave of embarrassment, feeling his hands cease their soothing movements.

"Don't be. Just... don't." He sounded so broken that she pressed her face into his chest, just wishing she'd kept her damn mouth shut. Why couldn't she just be normal? Why did she have to do this?

"I'm sorry." He repeated, his hand coming to cup her cheek. She sighed, shaking her head.

"It wasn't you. It wasn't your fault. I'm just-"

He cut her off by grasping her cheek lightly, pulling her back to look at her, his eyes slightly shiny.

"Don't." He said, ever so gently. "I know it's not my fault. But it's not yours either. Please don't apologise." He said definitively, and her face crumpled again, her bottom lip shaking. He was right. And she knew it, but for some reason, she had needed to hear it from him to really believe it. She still felt she needed to clarify, to offer some explanation, though he demanded none.

"It was just..." He tried to shush her again and she huffed. "-Let me speak! I don't feel afraid of you. Not ever."

"-I know." He cut her off, obviously upset that she felt like she needed to explain herself.

"Shush! It's just..." She gestured up at the table, that horrible fornica kitchen table, letting her eyes wander to the metal corners, still able to imagine the feel of those handcuffs holding her in place... "Keith Summers." She said eventually and his jaw tightened, his whole body stiffening as he followed her gaze, glancing over at the kitchen table and then pressing his eyes together for a long time.

There was a long silence, where she just gazed up at him uncertainly like a lost child, before his eyes fluttered open and he nodded tightly at her.

"I'm going to take you to bed." He said, with no undertone or hidden implication, just a statement that he was about to move, so as not to startle her. She appreciated the gesture, as he slid one arm under her knees, scooping her up like she weighed nothing, struggling to his feet with her smoothly in his arms.

He laid her down in bed, and then retreated and for one horrible moment, she thought he was going to leave, before he moved to the bottom of the bed, unlacing her little high heeled brogues and slipping them off her feet one by one. He left the rest of her clothes on though, as he did with his own, before slipping into the bed with her, pulling to covers up over her and then laying very still, not touching her at all.

He was waiting for her to move first, letting her set the amount of contact and she was grateful, rolling over and pressing her face into his chest, wrapping her arm around him.

"Thank you." She whispered, clutching his shirt, feeling his arms come up to gently wrap around her.

"It's ok." He said, and she spent a moment searching his words for any sense of irritation or impatience, finding none.

"I know it's hard to understand-" She started.

"Everything about you is hard to understand." He clarified, and she could hear the playful smile in his voice. "It doesn't make me love you any less."

She opened her mouth to speak again, but there was nothing else to say, so she just listened to his steady heartbeat until she fell asleep, wondering if she would ever have another panic attack again.

She didn't.

The next day, she came home from running errands to find that horrible table gone, never to be seen again. In it's place was a beautiful antique art deco style table, with ornate, straight metalwork legs, and a smooth polished wooden surface.

She ran her hand over it, hearing Alex enter the room behind her.

"Well?" He asked, sounding uncertain, like he was worried he'd crossed a line by changing something without asking, and Norma didn't even have the heart to pretend not to love it. Any other day, she would have teased him, pretended to hate it, but not today.

"You did good." She breathed out, turning to face him and pulling him in for a grateful hug.

"Thank you." She said gently, feeling him nod against her shoulder, before she pulled back, running her hand over the table again.

"I still don't wanna have sex on it though." She said innocently, and he chuckled, watching as she gazed at the table happily, before grabbing her paperwork and heading towards the other room.

"That's fine. Plenty of other surfaces in this house, Mrs Romero." He called out after her, as she sashayed away from him, casting him an unimpressed glance from over her shoulder before disappearing.

"Keep calling me that!" Her voice was playful as she called out her warning from the other room. "We'll see how far you get."

Oh, did you think we were done with all this fucking heartache? Wrong! Don't let all the fluff fool you - The angst is never far away from Normero, even if it is coated in a fluffy, sugary shell. New genre: Flangst. Tell all your friends. It's gonna be A Thing.

Ok, so this'll be the last update for a little while now. I don't know if there's gonna be any Wi-Fi on my little buffday trip, so there might be an update sooner than we think, but I've given you two quick chapters here just in case. Hope y'all enjoyed them! Lemme know if you did. Your reviews are my EVERYTHING!

Also, Rihanna? RIHANNA! We need to talk about Rihanna. What if we live in a world where we're gonna see Rihanna and Vera Farmiga kiss at some point? None of us are ready! xxx