"You don't have to do that."
Alison halted, shoulders becoming tense at the sound of his voice. Then slowly, she relaxed, releasing a soft breath. Her hands resumed the task of cleaning the dishes in the sink. "It started with Naomi's bottles," she mentioned. "Guess I didn't stop." Kurt watched her a moment longer from his place at the door before stepping forward. His legs took him in the kitchen to stand beside her. She shifted a bit to make a bit more room. Kurt never realized how tiny his kitchen was until they both stood in it. Alison had placed the clean dishes in the rack on the counter next to the refrigerator. Without prompt, Kurt grabbed a rag and began drying the dishes before putting them away.
They worked without speaking. Quite a few dishes had piled up during the course of the week. Kurt should not have let it get so bad, but he supposed that this was okay. Eventually, he ran out of clean dishes, and began taking directly from Alison's hand. Still they did not speak to one another. Like an efficient machine, they worked. It was familiar and seamless—something he could get used to all over again. Standing so close to her, Kurt could just about pick up that scent. A combination of vanilla and spice. Truthfully, he had not needed to stand so close to her, but he found himself doing it all the same whenever he had the chance.
Alison shut off the flow of water, done with cleaning. While Kurt finished drying, Alison dried her own hands with a paper towel she had grabbed. She then tossed the used paper towel into the trashcan. Kurt, himself, was slow in his movements of putting away the last cup. As always, he could feel her eyes on him. Eventually, he turned to face her, noting her relaxed position against the adjacent counter. Arms folded under chest, she leaned against the edge of the counter, not bothering to fix her gaze elsewhere. She eyed him quietly, unashamed of her staring. Kurt cleared his throat.
"How's work been going?" he asked, hoping to dispel the sudden shift in atmosphere. It was not necessarily uncomfortable, but it was tense, for lack of a better word. "It must be a change of pace from before."
"It is," Alison admitted with a nod of her head. "I mean, technically, everyone works on their own cases, but I suppose it is a bit different to have a larger number of people in the building. Before, it was just me, one ADA and a receptionist. But I still have my own office. That's a plus." Kurt nodded. "How about you? Clearly, the police force has expanded, too."
"It's different," Kurt agreed. "But I think it's better, too. I mean, hours are flexible now. I'm not forced to stay on the same shift." Alison lifted her eyebrows, seemingly wanting elaboration. "I actually… wanted to talk to you about that. If I get an earlier shift, I could… spend more time with Naomi." Alison narrowed her eyes and frowned. She then said his name, equipped with a sigh. He had been expecting that reaction. "I know it's only been a week—only two days of visiting—but I-I'm ready for more. I can handle more time with her. And if I get an early enough shift, I can… pick her up from daycare, and you won't have to pay extra for extended time because of your work schedule. And-"
"Kurt," she cut in. She uncrossed her arms and lowered them to her sides. "If feels like you're asking for permission when you don't need to." Kurt lowered his gaze to floor. Truthfully, he had been gearing himself up for that. "Thank you for telling me about your plan ahead of time, and I expect that every time when it comes to her—make no mistake about that—but you don't need to give me a persuasive speech. You should expect the same from me." Alison stepped forward then, causing Kurt to lift his gaze to her approaching form. "I know that this is new, and you're being cautious. I appreciate that. I understand that. But you should also understand that I trust you. Alright?"
"Yeah, alright," Kurt murmured. She smiled, eyes crinkling. That, along with her saying that she trusted him, had always managed to make him feel… worthy. Even after all this time, she still could affect him so much. Alison pressed her lips together, slowly lifting her arm. Her fingers touched his side, and Kurt tensed quite a bit because of it. Alison tilted her head to the side, moving closer. There was barely an inch in between their bodies now. "Alison-"
"I think," she interrupted. "You're doing great." Her fingers began sliding up and down. Kurt could not help but relax under the familiar touch. "Better than I hoped. Yes, it's only been two visits, but I wouldn't mind if Naomi was with her father instead of daycare. Plus, you're free, so…" Alison chuckled, and Kurt found himself sharing her mirth. "So yes, if you want to spend more time with her, it'd be great if you changed shifts. I would love that."
Kurt smiled a bit, relieved. Then Alison lifted to the tips of her toes. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and his chest tightened. Her lips lingered near the corner of his mouth. Kurt leaned towards the touch, quietly reveling in the softness of her lips against his skin again. He should not, but he missed it. Christ, he had missed it. It was not just a faint whiff anymore. He could clearly smell Alison again. Like so many times before, it had overwhelmed his senses. Made him lose control. And in an instant, he forgot the hurt and pain she had inflicted by disappearing two years ago. She was here, solid, and standing so close. She had shown affection, and it had been so long.
As a result, when the mother of his child reared backwards, Kurt could not resist the urge to grab onto her, fingers wrapped around her biceps. She halted, head tilting down to look where they touched. Then her gaze lifted, deep brown eyes boring into his. Soft and warm, just as he remembered on the quiet nights they had shared. Then his eyes darted down to her lips. Alison parted her lips to say his name. "Kurt." She had not made a move to back away. He clenched his jaw, blinking more than necessary. "Don't make this awkward." Kurt immediately uncurled his fingers, dropping his arm to his side. His gaze lowered to the floor between them. "That's not what I meant." Alison pressed her lips together for a few seconds before releasing a sigh. "I kissed your cheek. Do you want to do the same to me?"
"I…" The question threw Kurt for a loop. It had caused words to fail him. In fact, he did not know what he wanted to do. His mind had halted when her lips had pressed against his skin, and was only now sluggishly starting back up. However, Alison lifted both of her arms, palms sliding against his sides. He tensed again, gaze snapping back up to lock with hers. Unperturbed by his reactions, she moved her fingers up and down. Again, it soothed him and he relaxed.
"I know we're not the… traditional family, but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with… giving affection as well as receiving it," Alison stated. "I want our daughter used to it. From the both of us. She will want to kiss you. So you've got to get used to it."
"So this is practice…?" Kurt wondered.
"… If you want it to be," she replied. "Do you?" Again, she lifted herself, and her lips touched his other cheek underneath his eye. Kurt swallowed hard. Not giving an answer, he allowed the repeated kisses to both his cheeks, to both sides of his jaw, and to his nose. He stood there, frozen, yet insides trembling. These kisses were expected of him. To give and receive. Familial kisses. However, these did not feel like innocent kisses. They were purposeful, and left him wanting her lips elsewhere on his skin. Without his mind telling him to, Kurt opened his mouth.
"Stop," he said through clenched teeth. Alison immediately halted her advancements. She settled herself back on her bare feet, lowering her hands from his body as well. Her lips pressed together as she stared up at him, uncertainty forming in her eyes. "We-We can't do this." Kurt disliked how unsteady his voice had sounded. Just like his resolve.
"I… overstepped. I'm sorry," she whispered, tilting her chin downward. "You're right, it's too soon." Pass due, he had nearly blurted. With a shake of her head, Alison backed away from him, pressing herself against the counter behind her. "We don't have to… practice. Naomi's a smart, affectionate girl—she can set the pace just fine." Before he knew it, Kurt had closed the distanced between, and Alison peered up at him through her lashes. "Kurt…?" It was then he realized that there was a pounding in his head and in his chest. Not only that, but there was a low hum beneath his skin. He recognized it for what it was. Yearning. For the person who had saved him. For the woman that he had loved. For the mother of his child. The humming became loud—louder than the pounding in his chest. With almost startling clarity, Kurt knew he needed.
And suddenly, his mouth was on hers. Searing and nearly bruising, his kiss was both demanding and desperate. Alison whimpered against him, but her hands reached for his sides again, pulling him closer. She pushed back just as hard, not once freezing up. She accepted him, and gave just as much. Like she used to. The demand softened, and she no longer whimpered. Her moans ignited a flame within him, and the familiar buildup was too much to resist. "Bed…?" he questioned softly between their kisses. Alison gave a jerky nod, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Kurt settled his hands on her hips and guided her backwards towards his bedroom. Their kisses did not falter, and so their bodies bumped into furniture a few times. The collisions had done little to take their focus away from each other. So much time and he could finally do this again. He had missed her so much. Not just the physical. Never just the physical with her. Christ. He had nearly forgotten how it felt to be surrounded by her. Consumed by her. Filled with her. From just a kiss. From just a touch. He couldn't get enough.
Kurt lifted his hand, palming the small of her back. His other hand reached up, fingers tugging at the string of her halter dress. The top part of her dress fell loosely, revealing the strapless black bra underneath. His hands lifted, grasping her arms and holding her in place even as the kiss deepened. He breathed in deeply through his nose, drawing the touch of their lips and tongues out for as long as possible. Then finally, he reared back a bit, allowing them both necessary air.
For a moment, they panted, staring intently back at each other. Kurt could not think straight. His mind had become slush. But all he wanted was to feel that heat again. The heat that she could cause every time. Christ. Unable to help it, he leaned forward again, softly pressing his lips to her cheek. Repeatedly, his lips met her skin, drifting further down. Kurt reached her throat, teeth and tongue gliding along her skin. Alison moaned, tilting her head back. Kurt tugged at her dress, and the fabric pooled around her feet. He then guided her to lay down onto the bed. Alison allowed the movement, rewarding him with a pleased smile. Her fingers lightly reached for his neck, and she welcomed the weight of his body on top of hers. Kurt continued kissing her skin, trailing a path right down to her swell belly.
"Don't leave me…" he said quietly. Then he pressed a long tender kiss to where his child was growing. His grip on her tightened. "Don't leave me."
"Never again," Alison told him in a whisper. "We'll never leave you again." She cupped his cheeks, tilting his head up to look at her. She looked so earnest and open, completely serious. "You're going to be a great father. And she's going to adore you." Kurt nodded his head, a slight quirk of his lips. He kissed her protruding belly again. Alison moved her hands to his shoulders, and with a gentle squeeze, she urged him upward. She gave a sweet kiss, and Kurt wrapped his arms around her, returning the gesture.
"Well, it seems you didn't get the message, big brother." The new voice startled the two of them enough that they sprang apart. They abruptly stood, looking towards where the voice had come from. Alison curled in on herself, shielding her stomach from view. Kurt stood in front of her, protectively even though his insides trembled at the sight of his younger brother. Calvin Bunker had appeared underneath the threshold of his makeshift bedroom. In his hand, he held a blowtorch. Seeing that item again rattled Kurt more than the sudden presence of his brother. "I say you can't wear my uniform, and then you go out and become even more traitorous. But don't worry-" The blue flame erupted, and Kurt felt his lungs tightened horribly. "-I'll get rid of both your shames." Calvin stepped forward, and Kurt involuntarily backed away. Frozen in place, he could do nothing while the flame reached Alison.
Both her scream and scent of burning skin broke Kurt out of the dream.
He flinched awake, covered in sweat. Lying on top of his bed, front pressing against the sheets, he eyed his surroundings frantically. Only after several minutes passed, Kurt finally allowed himself to relax. The minutes passing had done nothing for the rampage of his heart. He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it. It seemed as though he had not had a dream that vivid in a long time. He had not dreamt of his brother for so long now. The nightmares had stopped. Now, it seemed they would come again.
Breathing in a shuddering breath, Kurt rolled onto his back. For a moment, he simply stared up at his white ceiling, waiting for the tempo of his heart to slow. He attempted to keep away the images from his dream. With difficulty. Somehow, he had to erase those types of feelings. Want. What could have been. Fear. He could not have them. Not even in the deepest part of his subconscious. Clenching his teeth, Kurt sat up. Calvin had not appeared in his dreams for quite some time, though. But he supposed it had made sense. His brother happened to be the biggest threat now. Bigger than he had been. Before, it had been only himself. Now he had additions—extensions of himself. To protect.
Kurt shut his eyes for a moment, sighing through his nose. Finally, he could not feel his heart throbbing. Then he opened his eyes, looking towards the alarm clock. Ten minutes before it rang. He sighed again, hand reaching to switch off the alarm. Slowly, he moved out of bed, and then began his morning routine.
It had been the same as any workday. The only difference had been the temperature of his shower. The ice-cold water had hit his skin like shards. Near painful though it may have been, it had worked in getting rid of those images of his dream… He had to tell himself repeatedly that it had been because of Alison's attire from the two visits. Dresses that showed more skin than he had been accustomed to. That had been the only reason he had dreamed of her that way before it had transformed into a nightmare. In addition, the amount of time he had stood in front of his mirror had been longer than normal. Just staring at the mark on his skin. Most days, he did not think about it. He had gotten good at putting the marred skin at the back of his mind. However, that dream had been a painful reminder of that night. Most days, he could handle it. Other days—today—he had touched it, thoughts of that night swirling through his mind. The night when he had been burned in more ways than one.
Still, he had work, so he could not dwell. Kurt had shook the memories away and had continued. He had dressed in his uniform, covering up the burn and most of his tattoos. Like any other day, he had finished getting ready. Of course, he had nearly forgotten his cell phone again. That would always be a part of the routine. Yesterday, Alison had made a comment in regards to him getting a phone case. He had not bothered to before because he had always been careful ever since he had gotten the device. Telling her that had only caused a raised eyebrow and a pointed look towards their daughter, who had been happily chewing on the television remote. Point made, Kurt had agreed to purchase a case as soon as possible.
Yesterday had been another good day. Alison and Maggie had not had another meeting. Naomi and Hank had gotten along a bit better, though there had still been a few squabbles. The conversations between himself and Alison had not been awkward either. It had gone better than the first visit for sure. Still, they had not spoken much of what would happen afterwards. Alison would begin work next week, so Kurt did not expect a visit on Fridays. One day out of an entire week seemed too low. That had been the reason he had already began thinking of changing shifts. Maybe it was too soon for that, but he looked forward to spending more time with Naomi.
Thoughts of his little girl caused a smile to form as Kurt started up his truck. She truly was a joy. The more he thought of her—her smiles, her laughs, her pouts—the more he felt himself relax. The dream had all but faded from his mind by the time he had pulled up to work. A daughter. Even now, it felt surreal. In a good way. In a very good way. Last week, he would not have been able to predict the sharp turn that his life would take upon meeting Alison again. He was glad for it, though. Naomi. A daughter. His daughter. He was a father to her.
As he opened the door to his truck, Kurt idly wondered if he would be able to keep a picture at his desk. Other fathers at the station had pictures on their desks. Billy had the habit of changing his framed pictures of his family. He had not wanted to be a father, but he had not denied wondering about the experience whenever he glanced at those family pictures. Now, he might have that chance—to have his own set of pictures. One day. Kurt understood he could not broadcast the new role that he had taken on. For a time, it would need to be a secret. For now, he would have to shake away thoughts of his own family pictures.
Sighing a bit, Kurt stepped out of his vehicle, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat on the way out. He shut the door, and then headed towards the police station, ready to start his workday. Entering, he took a glance at the receptionist desk. It appeared that Alma was not working today. Sometimes, it would be Alma to work the weekends. It was random, though. Kurt had not be been able to guess the pattern of Alma's weekend schedule. It was a bit disappointing not seeing her. No, they had not been talking buddies, it was nice to have a polite conversation with her. Unfortunately, it was not going to happen today.
Someone else was in her place—a part-timer, used only on the weekends. Deva Hopewell. The girl had stopped dying her hair. Now, she chose to wear it natural and short. Her makeup had shifted from dark to lighter tones. She looked much more like her mother now. Most weekends, Deva sat at the receptionist desk either doing homework or texting on her cell phone. Typically, there was not much for the receptionist to do on Sundays, so Deva usually did other things unrelated to the actual job. She had earned the spot as a favor to the Mayor. The Sheriff had seemed onboard with it as well. There was a bond between the girl and the Sheriff—one Kurt had not recognized before. In hindsight, their interactions had been nearly… domestic. It seemed that his eyes had been open to an entire new light of the world. It was good.
"What's up, Nazi-cop?" Deva greeted as he walked by the desk. Kurt took another glance in her direction. She had not bothered to look up from the giant schoolbook. Her pencil waved back and forth, jotting down something in her notebook. There were whispers of the nickname throughout the police station, but only Deva had no such restraints. Fortunately, from her, the nickname usually had not come off as hateful.
"Miss Hopewell," Kurt returned, continuing on his way. Truthfully, the nickname was no longer a bother since he heard it so much. He still blamed Billy Raven for starting it, though. Walking further in, he had not expected to see anyone. Most, if not all, chose to go out and patrol in an effort to starve off the boredom. For that reason, he was quite surprised to see Job at his desk. Rather, on top of his desk. The man's body—clad in a deep blue dress, sheer tights, and black heeled boots—spread across the desk, lounging. Upon seeing him, Job raised a perfectly arched brow, not moving from the relaxed position. The slight movement caused Kurt to halt, though. Job wore his usual expression—apathetic with a hint of displeasure—so Kurt did not know what he was about to walk into.
Mentally preparing himself for confrontation, Kurt resumed moving, shifting his walk towards his desk instead of the locker area. There was no doubt that Job would take offense if Kurt had attempted to put away his bag first. Kurt made his way over to the desk, noting that the keyboard and monitor had been pushed away to make room for Job's body. However, Kurt could see silver glitter on the desk. It clearly came from the vibrant blue wig Job wore. He idly wondered how much time it would take to sweep it all away. Job cleared his throat, causing Kurt to snap his attention back up. Job lazily lifted his arm, stretching to hold his hand out expectedly. Kurt merely stared, unsure of what he wanted. Did he want help off the desk…?
At his lack of response, Job heaved an irreverent sigh. The man swiftly and smoothly sat up in a sitting position, one leg crossed over the other. Again, he held out his hand, pursed lips finally opening to explain himself. "When I do something for someone, I expect compensation," he stated in a slow manner as though he spoke with a child. Actually, not a child because even Alison did not speak that way with their daughter or Hank. Kurt had not thought to speak that way either. He clenched his jaw, realizing that Job had wanted money. Of course he did. The man loved his money. Everyone in Banshee knew it. Unfortunately, Kurt did not have any money to spare until his next paycheck.
"I… I apologize, sir. I spent the rest of what I can on… things for… Naomi," Kurt replied honestly. "But I will-"
"I don't want your money," Job interrupted, more displeasure trickling into his expression and tone. "The salary of police is abysmal." Kurt refrained from asking what type of salary a tech received in comparison. Job wiggled his fingers. "Your cell phone, sweet Nazi. Give it to me." Kurt pressed his lips into a thin line, but ultimately slipped his hand into the pocket of his pants to retrieve the cell phone. Job did not hesitate to snatch the device. "Don't even have a fucking passcode—Fuck! How did this town function without me?" Job muttered under his breath as he shook his head.
With lips pressed together, Kurt watched as the tech genius went through the phone. The man released several unimpressed scoffs as this thumbs worked across the screen. Kurt began to feel self-conscious the longer his coworker held his phone. He was not the most tech savvy guy in town—perhaps the world—and so he felt as though he was being judged. Finally, his phone chimed, signaling a text message had come through. Instinctively, Kurt made a grab for the cell phone, but Job reared back and lifted a leg, not bothering to glance in his direction.
"Hm… She cute," Job complimented, though his expression had become neutral again. Without warning, the man tossed the cell phone back at him. Kurt clumsily made a grab for it before it hit the ground. "Your passcode is her birthday—four digits. You're welcome." With those parting words, the man, dressed in drag, slid off the desk and strutted away towards the basement. Kurt stared after him, flabbergasted about what had just happened. Sighing to himself, he turned and headed for the locker area. After placing his bag in his locker, he walked back over to his desk, looking down at his cell phone, wondering what Job had done. Also, what exactly had Job wanted in the first place?
As the man had told him, the device now requested a passcode to unlock the phone. Frowning, Kurt keyed in the code. Of course, he had already memorized the day his daughter had been born. One digit for the month. One digit for the day. Two digits for the year. Just as Job had said, it worked. Apparently, Job had been in his messages. Alison had sent him a picture, not realizing that 'Can you send me a picture of Naomi?' had come from Job. The sent picture had been a close-up of mother and child, cheek to cheek. While Naomi smiled big and bright, Alison's smile was small.
Kurt caught himself smiling, nearly forgetting his suspicions of what Job had done to his phone. Yesterday, Alison had brought her laptop and showed him the multitude of pictures, and videos, which had captured Naomi's life. However, this sent one had been new. Kurt wondered if this was how they looked today. Flutters arose within him as he continued to think about the two. Quickly, he shook it off, and then attempted to find anything different about his phone. There were not many apps on his device—definitely nothing in regards to his finances. It seemed that the only thing Job had done had been setting up security for his phone. That and impersonating him simply for a picture. Maybe he had only wanted a confirmation that he had not helped a… rapist.
The earlier comment from the man had still stung two days later. Kurt would never, but he could not deny that his formers brothers had been that way. It had sickened him back then as well. It had already happened to Alison. She had endured such a horrendous thing, and yet she had allowed someone like him—a monster—to create a new life with her. It was unbelievable, and Kurt understood the skepticism. Most likely, the doubt would not cease as his daughter grew older, and people would repeatedly assume the worst just as Job had.
His phone suddenly vibrated, alerting him of another message. Kurt focused on his phone again, reading the new text from Alison. Any particular reason you wanted a pic? He grimaced, pondering how he would explain the reasoning behind the request. He sat down in his chair, shutting his eyes for a moment. Eventually, an answer came to him. Quickly, he typed up a response and sent it. Maybe I want to start my own photo collection, it had said. Nearly a minute later, Alison responded. Guess that means you have to figure out your smartphone, she sent, along with a smiling face. The corner of Kurt's mouth tugged upward. Funny, he sent her. She only responded with another face, which had tears streaming out of its eyes and a giant grin. Smiling now, Kurt tucked his phone back into his pocket, and then sat down at his desk, ready to start his shift.
0-0
Alison chuckled lightly as she slipped her phone into her purse. She had been a bit startled when Kurt had messaged her, seemingly at the start of his workday. However, it had been a nice conversation. Nice and easy. Similar to what they had before. It would be fine if their conversations going forward only revolved around their daughter. She was actually quite proud that Kurt seemed to be so inclined of having the role of father. "Looks like daddy may already love you, demigoddess," Alison remarked, gaze focusing on Naomi. Her little girl clapped her hands and cheered. Smiling, Alison continued her task of pushing the shopping cart.
They had been in the supermarket for about ten minutes before the text came through. Now, they could resume shopping. Truthfully, she had been putting off on grocery shopping. Visiting Kurt with Naomi had been quite the distraction these last two days. Watching him interact with their daughter—and Hank—it had been an entirely different side to him. To herself—and only to herself—she could admit how much more attractive that side had been to her. It should not be a problem in the future, though. Based on their schedules, they would not be spending entire days together anymore. They would truly be co-parenting at this point. Once they hashed out the details and rules, more than likely, they would only be in each other's presence for a meager ten minutes at best. And… that would be good. No need to muddle things up with… the past. Kurt did not want Alison, but he wanted Naomi, and that was good enough.
"Nan-na!" Naomi exclaimed, pointing. Alison blinked before following the small finger. As they were in the fruit and vegetable section of the supermarket, she could only assume her daughter had been referring to bananas. Sure enough, her finger pointed to the yellow fruit on display.
"Okay, we'll get some bananas," Alison agreed, driving the cart over to the display. She grabbed a bundle and a plastic bag. "Can you hold them?" Naomi nodded her head, holding out her arms. Chuckling, Alison gave her child the bagged fruit. She hugged the bananas close to her chest. "Let's get some Cuties for my cutie next." She gave a forehead kiss, causing the little girl to squeal in delight. Alison pushed the cart further, stopping near at the oranges. Just as she was about to reach for a bag, a vaguely familiar voice caught her attention.
"Alison…!" The voice sounded surprise. Lowering her arm, Alison turned her attention to where the voice had come from. Pushing her own cart, Carrie Hopewell approached her. She did not appear very different. A bit more casual maybe. Long blond hair in a messy braid, no makeup, loose-fitting grey shirt, black leggings, and simple sneakers. Ah, today was Sunday. Gordon had mentioned that she liked to work on a fixer-upper on this day. "It's so good to see you!" A bit surprising, Carrie had moved closer to wrap her arms around Alison. She smelled of paint and wood. Alison tried not to feel awkward as she returned the sudden embrace. "Gordon said you were back last week," Carrie continued, releasing her.
"That's right," Alison stated. "It's good to see you, too." Perfectly cordial, the two women smiled at one another. Perhaps Carrie's nice behavior had not been very surprising. They had gone through a big ordeal two years ago, after all. "I'm sure he's told you about Naomi, too?" Alison continued, gesturing towards her daughter. "Say hi, baby girl."
"Hiii!" Naomi greeted, squeezing the bananas again.
"Aww!" Carrie cooed, absolutely charmed.
"Jesus Christ, Carrie, please don't conspire with your husband to steal my baby," Alison told her, stopping the other woman from reaching to pick up Naomi. Carrie stood up straight and cleared her throat, a slight blush settling on her cheeks. "Don't tell me you want to have another go?" Alison teased.
"Oh no!" Carrie denied with a slight grin. "I had my fill of actual babies already."
"Speaking of, shouldn't your kids be with you?" Alison asked, curiously.
"Well, every other weekend, Deva helps out at the Sheriff's station. Max is in the toy aisle right now," Carrie replied with a shrug. "How have you been?"
"I'm good," Alison stated. "Just settling in." She sighed a bit. "And before you ask, yes, the father knows. Yes, he wants to be in her life." Carrie pressed her lips together, eyebrows raised expectedly. "Yes, it's Kurt Bunker," Alison finished through clenched teeth. Carrie, even though she clearly had expected it, stared at her incredulous. "Jesus Christ." The mutter had been equipped with an eye roll.
"Can you really blame me for being curious?" Carrie asked. "It's-" Her eyes looked towards Naomi, who had stopped paying attention to the adults and was bouncing the bananas in her lap. "It's shocking. That night, after Camp Genoa, when Deputy Bunker was allowed in your house, I was surprised. Gordon told me you were friends, but then you just disappeared and came back with a child. Pieces aren't fitting, you know?"
Alison clenched her jaw. Carrie was right. Technically. For her—for anyone outside the relationship—the pieces had not fit. The two of them had not fit. Oil and water. From the outside looking in, their relationship did not make sense. For Alison, they had fit, though. They had been good together. Apple and cinnamon. She had been in love with him. How could she not have fallen for him? But everything had gone wrong after the break-in. He had not sought her out. Kurt had not reached for her after his recovery. Clearly, he had not felt the same towards her. And yet… She could not help but ponder the why. For two years, it had eluded her. It still confounded her, really. Kurt's reaction had not made sense. But that was all over now. That time was done.
"We were… more than friends at that time, Carrie," Alison admitted. "And now we're parents. Pieces don't need to fit. This is what we have now."
"Hey, I'm not trying to pry," Carrie said. "I'll keep my curiosities to myself."
"No," Alison sighed again. "It's okay. It's all just new." She shrugged. "How do you and the Sheriff do it, if I can ask?"
"… Oh… they visit each other when they want to mostly," Carrie muttered with a shrug of her own. "There's not really a set 'it' going on since Deva's got it into her head that she's an adult. They work it out for themselves. I'm guessing you don't have that luxury."
"Not until she's much older," Alison agreed.
"I don't think you should worry about that," Carrie remarked. She leaned forward a bit, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Deputy Bunker and… and Lucas aren't the same. Your ex must have dangerous baggage, and right now, it's not a good thing to have. How many people know about your baby's daddy?"
"Just you and Gordon… and Job," Alison said.
"Job knows?" Carrie questioned incredulously, eyebrows lifting. "Why would he even-?"
"Kurt asked for information on me—to get my address—and Job figured out the rest," Alison shrugged lightly. She had not been surprised really. No, Kurt had not let it slip. She could not see him doing that to anyone. However, she could see Job digger deeper than just a new address. "Anyway, we're not planning on shouting it from the rooftops. To everyone else, I am just another single mother. Until that baggage is destroyed." Carrie narrowed her eyes, examining her silently. "What?"
"Gordon used to talk about you putting guys like that away," Carrie replied. "I'm not surprised you want to go after them. But… They're worse now. They think they have the power, and honestly, they do with how things are going." The blonde woman pursed her lips for a few seconds. "If you need a little outside help, I wouldn't be opposed."
"And what sorta help are you thinking of providing?" Alison questioned, arching her brow. Carrie merely raised both eyebrows, conveying exactly what she had been offering. She was a very capable woman. Her capabilities had gotten her arrested before even though she gone on a rescue mission. However, her father was no longer in the picture. Perhaps she would be fine in court now. "Tell me something, Carrie—do you miss the action that much?"
"I am a simple woman, Alison," she simpered.
Alison refrained from rolling her eyes. However, she felt nothing but respect and amusement towards the other woman. "I'll keep that in mind," she said with a shake of her head. Carrie's smirk widened just a bit, also amused. "Only if things go south, though, alright?" Carrie nodded. "I just hope it doesn't get that far."
0-0
Hours into his shift, Kurt found himself with nothing to do. The usual on a Sunday, but for some reason, he felt antsy. Usually, he could get through his shift without complaints of boredom. However, he supposed that he actually had something to look forward to once the shift ended. He had not lied to Job before. His extra expenses had gone towards things for his daughter. Childproofing equipment, a high chair, colorful plastic ware for eating, a wooden chest for toys, a baby carrier, a crib, something called Pedialyte—he might have gone overboard with the number of bottles—and a magnitude of toys and books. Tired, he had piled the items in one corner of the living room yesterday. Tonight, he would get everything in order and put away.
Thoughts of how Kurt would decorate Naomi's room halted before they truly began due to the ringing of his phone. His work phone rang again, button lighting up red as an extra indicator of a call coming through. Normally, no one received any calls on Sundays. This time of day, the citizens of Banshee tended to keep to themselves. Even the frequent callers, complaining about the exact same thing, never called on Sundays. Still, whatever call, it would be a welcome reprieve from the boredom. Seeing as though he was the only one at the station, of course the call would come to him. Kurt picked up the receiver and pressed the button to take the call. "This is Deputy Bunker," he greeted.
"Hello, Deputy," came the response. Kurt had a vague sense of familiar for the voice, but he could not quite place it. "I have a disgruntled and drunk customer here that refuses to leave. I would take care of it myself, but I wouldn't want an assault charge for myself."
"You did the right thing by calling in, sir," Kurt said. "Can you tell me your name and location?"
"It's… Sugar Bates," the man stated. The name made it click. Kurt had few conversations with the older man, but he could clearly remember one in particular. Back when he had not known where his income would come from. Not to mention, it was fairly known the former boxer made friends with the Sheriff. Everyone knew not to cause trouble at his establishment. Off-limits. Like Switzerland. "Still there?"
"Yes. Yes, sir," Kurt shook off thoughts of confusion. "Do you think this customer is a danger to you or anyone around?"
"Not really. Kinda sloppy—couldn't fight his way out a paper bag," Sugar answered. There was a muffled voice in the background, but Kurt could not make out the words or tone. "But I'd like not to deal with him. Are you able to come out?"
"Yes, sir, I'll leave right now," Kurt said. "Please do not engage the suspect further."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
The older man disconnected the call. Still, a complaint from the local watering hole was surprising. Technically, it was not much of a complaint. Drunks were easy to take care of. Kurt would check it out, of course, but the confusion lingered. As he stood, he wondered just what type of man would be so bold. He gathered the necessary things from his desk, preparing to leave. His intention had not been to patrol until after his lunch, but he might as well put the time in while out. Kurt made his way to the front, passing by Deva on his way. "Radio if you need me," he told her. The teenager gave a lazy salute in return, an automatic response, and then went back to her own work. A slight, almost fond, smile formed as Kurt pushed open the door. Deva, like any other teenager, had her vices, but overall, she was a good kid.
Kurt headed over to his personal cruiser, singling out the correct key. He opened the door and climbed inside. Unlike the rest of Banshee's local business, the bar Sugar owned had not relocated. It was a wonder how it remained open for business. Then again, the location was the first thing people tended to come across when entering Banshee. Or perhaps, Sugar was just plain lucky. In any case, Kurt had a job to do. Public intoxication cases were easy, unless they upgraded to assault. Maybe he should bring backup. No, too late. He was already on the road. He would call for backup if the situation escalated.
It took less than ten minutes to park outside the local watering hole. From what he could see, there were no other vehicles parked out front. Making sure his weapon was secure, Kurt stepped out of his cruiser. He locked the door, and then headed for the entrance of the bar. Entering, his eyes immediately went behind the bar. Sugar was in the midst of wiping down the bar top. Kurt shifted his gaze, taking in the surroundings. At one of the booth tables, there was one man. He sat face down at the table, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world.
"Deputy," Sugar acknowledged, halting his wipe down.
"Sir," Kurt returned his line of sight to the bar's owner. "Is he the only one here?" Sugar nodded his head. The older man did not appear apprehensive at all. Not surprising, really. He must have dealt with many customers like this. Kurt cautiously approached the table. He cleared his throat, and then announced himself. "I am Deputy Kurt Bunker of the Banshee Sheriff's Department." No response or movement from the man. "Sir, you cannot sleep here. You need to clear out." There was still no response. "Sir, are you aware that in Banshee, Pennsylvania, it is a class B misdemeanor. It is within my authority to take you in and put you into a cell."
"You're such a hardass, Bunk!" the man finally said, voice muffled. Kurt furrowed his brow as the man lifted himself. Billy Raven turned his eyes to him, appearing incredulous, yet amused. "Do you let anyone off easy?"
"Deputy Raven," Kurt said, slight frown forming. His off-duty coworker did not appear to be at all drunk. He shifted his eyes to Sugar, who had played the part of vigorously wiping down the counter. Nearly scowling, Kurt returned his attention back to Billy. "Wasting police time is also a crime." Billy rolled his eyes. "Why did you collude with Mr. Bates to bring me here?"
"You wouldn't answer your phone," Billy retorted. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"You didn't call," Kurt stated.
"I texted! Right after you asked how to braid hair!" Billy said. Oh. Kurt had forgotten about that. Last night, he had thought about it—texting the only man he knew that had experience with little girls. In his tired state, he had believed it had been a stray thought. Apparently, it had been strong enough for action. "So I take it you met her? Your daughter?" Although Kurt had already gotten a confirmation, he did a quick sweep of the area to make sure no one overheard that question. "Oh, don't worry—Sugar already knows."
"What?!" Kurt had to stop himself from raising his voice, but apparently, he had not been able to stop the surprised anger because Billy's hands shot up in surrender. "You told?!" He could not believe Billy had done that.
"No, not me!" he protested. "He already knew. Job told him." Well… That actually made sense. There had been a rumor that Job frequented this bar quite often. Doubtful it had been for the aesthetic. "I know how important it is to keep her a secret for as long as possible. I'm not going to tell anyone… except my wife." Kurt wholeheartedly scowled at his coworker now. Billy only shrugged. Then he gestured for Kurt to take a seat opposite of him. After a few seconds of considering, he conceded and took the offered seat. "So it went well?" Billy asked.
"… Yeah, it went well," Kurt answered. A bit of a smile worked its way on his face. "It went better than I thought. Naomi… she knows me. She knows that I'm hers." Billy grinned at him. Kurt cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the table for a few seconds. "It's only been two days, but… I know I want to be her dad. And I know that I can't exactly do that—to be good enough—as things stand."
"What do you mean?"
"…" Kurt pursed his lips. Then took a deep inaudible breath. "Right now, The Brotherhood holds a lot of the power in Banshee. As long as they have that power, she will be in danger. She won't ever be able to acknowledge me in public, and neither will I. And that's not fair. She deserves to grow up… normal—be able to spend time with her dad without worrying about accidently calling me dad. I have to get rid of The Brotherhood."
"We haven't just been sitting on our asses, Bunk," Billy insisted. "We've tried."
"Not every method," Kurt stated. His coworker narrowed his eyes, a look of understanding passing across his face. "I'm willing to do anything to protect Naomi." Unlike last time, he finished in thought. He had failed his sister. He would not fail his daughter.
"Even if that means breaking the law?" Billy asked. Kurt chose not to answer, though it was obvious. "You two are too similar." Kurt furrowed his brow, not understanding the remark. "You and Alison," Billy clarified, though it still did not make sense. "Willing to cross that line even though you're both apart of the justice system."
"… What are you talking about?" Kurt questioned, not understanding. "Alison wouldn't…" He trailed off. Truthfully, she had been a criminal at one point in her life. But she had been a teenager. A traumatized one. The former District Attorney, however, was by the book. She took her job too seriously to skirt near the line.
"You don't know…?"
"Know what?"
"Well, it's just speculation. We couldn't prove anything—didn't necessarily want to—but those guys who… who burned you-" Kurt tried not to wince as Billy continued speaking. "-they got what they deserved weeks later." Kurt had not heard that. The only thing he had known had been their relocation out of Banshee. Otto and Finn. They had held him down, and… Kurt squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, mentally erasing that night before it could form properly. He had not given the two much thought in quite some time. After all, knowing they had moved out of Banshee had allowed him to sleep easier. "It's not like we can arrest her. We never found anything linking her to the crime, but the Sheriff and I believed that she had been the one. She got back at those guys in retribution."
"No… No, you're wrong," Kurt said. "She wouldn't do that." Not for him. "She got scared and left."
"She got pregnant and left," Billy corrected. "Before that, she beat the shit outta those two. The Sheriff thinks she might have gone for more blood if she hadn't suddenly took off. Now that I think about it, maybe she found out she was pregnant before she could become a single-woman army."
It still had not made sense to Kurt. If Alison had truly retaliated for what had been done to him—to become that angry—why would she have stayed away for so long? Why had she not called? Anger had meant she had cared enough. Anger would have blocked out fear. Hence the need for retaliation on his behalf. All this time, Kurt had believed her initial reaction had been fear. He had believed she had immediately packed her bags, only finding out about their child the very last second before she left. But to hear Billy tell it, her first reaction had been a violent one. Actually, something else Billy had told him. Alison had been there, at the hospital, every time he had come to visit. All that implied that she had not planned to leave at the drop of a dime. She had not been afraid of The Brotherhood. She had intended to stay and care. If it had not been for the pregnancy. So then why had things turned out this way?
Kurt clenched his jaw. "It doesn't matter," he said aloud. Billy stared at him, not giving a verbal response. Then he huffed lightly as though annoyed. Kurt ignored it. "I'll cross that line if it comes that. I won't have my daughter be hurt because of me and my history. Whatever happens, she's the most important."
"I hear you," Billy said. A father himself, he had empathy. If anyone tried to go after his girls, he would stop at nothing to protect them. And if he couldn't… surely, a good man would go to war. "It looks like you're falling into your role of father nicely." He narrowed his eyes, but smiled. "I'm proud of you, Bunk." Kurt blinked once, honestly surprised to hear it. He was more surprised that he felt flattered. From one experienced father to an inexperienced one, it was good to hear. "Whatever happens, I'll have your back."
"Deputy Raven-"
"Hey, now, if you go in alone, your chances are negative," Billy interrupted. "And what good would all that effort do if you're in jail or dead? Your little girl won't be able to see you." Kurt frowned, contrite. He had not wanted to involve anyone else. Eventually, his actions against the Brotherhood—more specifically, their leader—could cause collateral. He would be resigned if it were just himself. But Billy was right. He wanted to be a good dad for Naomi, and he would not be able to do that if his chances were in the negative. "I'm not saying I'll be on the frontlines with you, maybe, but I'll try my best to help out. Your daughter is not the only one in danger because of them. I want to see them gone just as much as you do.
"Thanks… Thank you," Kurt said.
"No problem. Now, let me see some pictures of the mini Bunk."
0-0
I believe I now know how many chapters it will be to finish this story. I'm thinking another 8 chapters before we reach the end. Maybe less, depending on how long the chapters will be from this point on. However, I'm pretty certain the max will be 8 more chapters. 30 chapters in total. Woot. Woot. Not much happening in this chapter, though. It's pretty much a transitional chapter for what's coming next. Perhaps a little indulgent on my part, too. Eheh. But things will kick off in the next chapter. Thanks for sticking with me so far.
P.S. Job's always fun.
