I do not own Ratched.
I do not own my angel boy Huck. But I love him.
Huck Finnigan Lives Again: A Ratched Fairytale
In Heaven
And it does get better.
Very much so.
So very much so that . . .
"Huck, . . ."
. . . they don't seem to be doing as much out-of-doors activities as they had originally planned.
". . . I'd like to go back to our cottage."
And she's leaned into him, there in the warm, bright sunshine of the day, just enough to put her lips near his good ear.
And surreshed . . .
"If you don't mind."
. . . her request.
Concern stirs within him, is she alright, is she tired, perhaps just hungry or-
And he sees the light in her eyes, the demure, secret smile that tells him everything he needs to know-
"Oh. Uh, okay."
And without further adieu, . . .
"Let's go."
. . . they go.
"Huck-"
"Grace-"
And it doesn't stop there.
"Huck-"
"Grace-"
Morning.
"Huck . . ."
Afternoon.
"Grace . . ."
Night.
"Oh . . . I love you . . ."
It's really a surprise they ever see the outside of their beachside bungalow.
"I love you . . ."
And that's just fine . . .
"Huck, do you think we could stay in tonight?"
"Sure. If that's what you want."
"I do."
"You don't mind?"
"No. Of course not."
"Good. Come here."
. . . with him.
Yes ma'am.
"Can I . . . may I . . . um . . ."
And once he figured out what she was blushing her way through trying to say . . .
"Oh. Uh. Yeah. I mean, only if you want."
. . . he gladly, if somewhat nervously, acquiesces.
"I mean, only if you want."
They're lying together.
Grace and Huck.
"Thank you."
And she carefully pulls down the sheet Huck did have pulled up to his chest.
"Thank you. I mean, I've never seen one up close before now.
And turns her attention to the thing previously a closed mystery to her.
"I just can't tell you how glad this makes me, Huck."
And Huck's silence does not mask his complete and utter confusion.
And his blushing bride blushes further, even as she continues to make her curious inspection.
"I accidently walked in on my father once, in the bathroom, just for a second. He was stepping out of the shower."
Not only with her inquisitive eye.
"Oh?"
But with the softest, silkiest, lightest touch Huck's ever imagined in his life.
"Yes."
Which of course results in providing with her with the growth process, so to speak, in action.
"I was worried. I thought I had been . . . made wrong."
Which makes Huck feels more than a little self conscious.
"I worried how I would ever please my husband when I got married."
Though it's difficult for him to concentrate.
"But I was too embarrassed to ask my mother."
Right at that moment.
"You w-were?"
She smiles in distraction.
"Yes. This makes me feel better."
And Huck, barely able to manage coherent thought . . .
"Oh. Um, that's, uh, good."
. . . thinks he responds.
"I'm . . . uh . . . I'm glad."
And Grace giggles, light and playful and happy.
"Me too."
And then they stop talking.
"Huck . . ."
"Grace . . ."
For the most part anyway.
Their cozy little cottage, the one they're spending an inordinate amount of time in, . . .
"Huck-"
"Grace-"
. . . is really more of a small home than any sort of beach resort.
Modest sitting space, radio on a table. Lamps. Chairs. A couch.
Efficient little kitchenette, with the barest of essential cookery and dishware, just enough room to prepare a simple meal and enjoy it at a tiny table for two.
Or perhaps linger on a tiny deck overlooking the ocean.
Washroom providing sink, tub, commode.
Soaps, towels, cleaning tissue.
The bedroom, double bed, sheets, blankets, two pillows upon which to lay their heads.
Dresser. Wardrobe.
End tables. Additional low lamps.
It is all very modest, very basic and humble.
And yet, for the length of their stay, it is theirs and no one shall bother them.
Which is good because they are frequently, very frequently . . .
"Huck . . ."
"Grace . . ."
. . . otherwise engaged.
Not all the time, of course.
They do venture out.
To the beach, for instance.
Huck and Grace.
Grace and Huck.
He's never been to the beach with her before.
Hasn't been to the beach with anyone since Ruthie before The War.
I'm not really beach keen anymore.
So he's more than a little self-conscious.
But Grace . . .
"Ready?"
. . . isn't.
"Sur-"
No, not Grace.
Grace with her strawberry blond waves and her blue-green-green-blue eyes.
Grace . . .
Holy cow.
. . . in her red two piece swimsuit.
Halter bodice fully covering the perfect bosom Huck has become so enamoured with as of late.
Midriff just under the bust to right above the bellybutton, revealing but the slightest few inches of creamy white skin Grace skin.
Fitted skirt, covering front and back entirely.
Her legs that so recently wrapped around him in joyful embrace, now on full display.
And Huck is . . .
"Is it alright?"
. . . completely speechless.
In her bathing suit, Grace is modest and decent and lovely and demure.
"Do you like it?"
And Huck finds himself . . .
"I bought it especially for the trip."
. . . completely unable . . .
"Uhhh . . ."
. . . to look away.
". . . yeah. Yes. Yes."
From the vision of her.
Grace, blushing again, so prettily he can't bare it.
Grace, so gentle and kind.
And conscientious of her new husband.
"I don't want to embarrass you."
And Huck can't even huff in derision at this statement, can't even begin.
"No. You, uh, won't embarrass me, no."
I might embarrass myself.
"So, you ready?"
And Huck manages to nod.
"Yes. Sure."
And Graces smiles.
Reaches for her sunhat.
"Alright then!"
Steps into her thong sandals.
"Let's go!"
And heads out the door.
Heavily heated husband . . .
I'm not sure I can.
. . . trailing dutifully behind.
It's open out there at the beach.
Wide open ocean and wide open sand.
Wide open sky and wide open world.
Huck feels very exposed.
He's not, he's decently covered.
Blue beach shorts, shoes, white button-up short sleeve shirt.
Brazenly unbuttoned now that Grace . . .
"I hope you don't mind. I like your chest."
I like yours better.
Ahem.
. . . has had her way with his buttons.
They've got beach chairs and umbrellas and Grace is in the floppy sunhat they went fishing in and the biggest pair of dark sunglasses Huck has ever seen.
And everything . . .
"Well, what do you think?"
"I think it's wonderful."
. . . is alright.
"You know, Mrs. Kee is really what brought us together in the first place."
They are standing together on the deck, gazing up at the moon.
The moon overhead, and stretched out before them, sparkling on the undulating ocean waves.
The cooling breeze carries with it the bite of saltwater.
And Grace Finnigan's body is warm as she leans back against him, arms and hands wrapped around his wrapped around her waist.
His thoughts have been aimlessly, happily wandering as her softly waved strawberry blond hair tickles his face where he can feel it.
And so this revelation befuddles him . . .
It is?
. . . just a bit.
I thought it was Charlotte Wells' bullet.
And apple pie.
And you.
Instead of all this, he murmurs soft breath into one ear.
"Is it?"
He feels a slight shiver run through Grace as she nods.
"Mmm-hmm."
And he murmurs again.
"Tell me."
Grace shivers again; Huck smiles.
And she continues.
"The first time I ever laid eyes on you, you were holding her hand and had an arm around her. I think you taking her to the solarium."
He thinks he might vaguely remember this but truth be told, he has escorted Glenda Josephina Duante Kee to so many places during his time at St Lucia that it all runs together in a blur of "William Holdens".
Grace continues, musical voice low and pleasant to his ear.
"I saw your gentleness with her, your kindness, and I saw your face and I thought something terrible and indescribably painful has happened to this man, something awful that nearly killed him and yet somehow he still finds it within himself to be gentle and kind to another person."
He smiles and hugs even her closer to him, reveling in her presence in his life.
That is exactly what happened to him, the story she has told to the evening air.
And it means something that Grace can see that.
"Thank you for loving me, Grace. Thank you for seeing me."
She shifts, turns in his arms, until they are face to face.
Grace, beautiful in the moonlight.
"I will always love you, Huck. I will always see you."
She brings her lips to his then and they stop talking.
His hands are lost in her hair, his consciousness is lost in her lips, the press of her body against his.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, she is liquid in his embrace.
"Make love to me, Huck. Take me inside and make love to me."
"Yes, ma'am."
And he picks her up in his arms, gathers her up.
Grace, his love.
His companion.
His bride.
Carries her inside.
And closes the door.
Well, hope you enjoyed this continuation. :)
I personally love their bathing suits but that's just me.
Thanks to DinahRay, IHeartSPN, and Conbird for previously reviewing. Very gracious of you! :D
