#katnuts drabble

He was halfway in his truck and halfway sprawled on the ground when he heard her car pull into the driveway. The fiddly bits he was working with prevented him from getting up to greet Kitty, but he was almost done anyway, and if she came around to this side of the driveway, he could talk until his hands were free. The engine cut off, but there was no opening or closing of car doors, which surprised Jonas after several beats of silence. Maybe she’s on the phone, he told himself, fitting a screw back into its place. But when he pulled himself upright a few minutes later, she still hadn’t opened a door, and he couldn’t hear a phone call.

Coming around his truck, he found her sitting behind the wheel, staring at it but not seeing it. She started when he opened the passenger door and folded himself into the seat. “I didn’t hear you come out,” she said in the stillness after he shut the door.

“I was working on my truck,” he explained simply, looking at her.

“Oh.” She wasn’t avoiding his eyes, but she couldn’t seem to muster the energy to meet them either.

“Do you want to talk?” Jonas asked after a minute. She shook her head.

“Not really.”

“Okay,” he replied. Leaning across the gap of the seats, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss against her hair. She leaned against him slightly, small hands wrapping around the arm in front of her as he leaned his head against hers.

A while later, as the car began to really cool off in the twilight, Jonas shifted to see Kitty’s face. “Do you want to go inside?”

She nuzzled across the space he had left. “I guess, except I don’t want to let you go,” she admitted.

“What if I promise I’ll make you coffee and a fire and a pile of blankets bigger than you when we get inside?”

She hummed her consideration. “I don’t care so much about that as long as you’re there.”

He smiled. “I think that can be arranged.” Sitting back, he grabbed her bag from the floor and opened the door, but waited for her. “Let’s go,” he invited gently, and with a sigh she opened her door too. He met her on her side and she reached her arms around his waist automatically, pressing into him.

He didn’t look up from his drink. He’d been visiting the local dive more often lately if he was honest with himself, but he hadn’t expected to run into her. Something told him he’d been ratted out; he’d be strongly questioning his packmates later. 

She was sitting on the stool next to him, turned towards him. He knew it without looking, knew her presence still. It had only been two weeks or so, but it felt like a lifetime. 

Did he still love her? He woke up every morning to an empty bed, missing her curled up under blankets even in his friend’s guest bed. He always made enough coffee for two, and bought the creamer she liked best. He’d almost texted her Tuesday when he saw a dog in a sweater because she would think it was adorable. He’d taken the turn for their little house more than once out of habit, and almost pulled into the drive once before hurrying away. He missed her chatter and hated his own silence. He missed kissing her, touching her, seeing her. He missed her, just her. 

Of course he still loved her.

Swallowing beer, he turned to look at her. He should say no, should let her go, should make it a quick break. But he couldn’t lie to her, he never could. He didn’t want to, either, not really. She deserved better than lies.

“We can’t be together,” he said quietly instead, dropping his eyes again. If he didn’t, he couldn’t be sure what he would do. He might admit the truth. He might reach out to grasp her hands to keep the from fidgeting with her jacket. He might pull her close and press his lips to hers, to replace the taste of beer with the taste of her mouth. 

And for the safety of her, for both of them really, he couldn’t. 

The blade taunted her, the light glimmering along the sharpened edge. It sat on the table between them and all she had to do was pick it up. Pick it up and then put it through her hand. And they wouldn’t do the same to Jonas.

“Kitty, don’t, you don’t need to do this for me.”

Eyes lifted, watching her husband struggle against the bonds and she knew he meant it - of course he did. She knew that he would forgive her weakness, would understand. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t forget the sound of his scream, the scent of his blood, the pain etched on his face.

Savannah’s grip on her wrist tightened, nails biting into her wrist.

“Come on sugar, don’t you love him? Or maybe it truly was fake all this time? A real wife, a real mate, would do anything for her husband. And you won’t even do this one little thing. Pathetic.” The words cut, burned, sizzled like silver on her flesh, through the layers surrounding her heart.

“No, no, I do, I do…”

She snatched the blade and slammed it down through her hand in one smooth motion. She screamed, her world suddenly the burning pain which radiated from her hand and up her arm. The blade had been silver, burning on the way in. Beneath her scream was Jonas’ protest, the table jerking at the sudden strength of his movements.

It hurt nearly as much on the way out, Kitty gasping for breath as she tried to pull her hand away, back from the danger of Savannah. Instead she was forced to watch as the same blade plunged  through Jonas’ hand.

“No! You promised, you promised,” she sobbed, some part of her breaking. This was pointless, this fighting. They were going to kill them any way - there was no honesty in these wolves. They promised only to hurt anyway. The sounds of the wolves laughter around her seemed far away, lost beneath the thumping of her heart, a thunder in her ears and she couldn’t breathe. They were going to die. The world greyed, dipped in and out, her focus wavering. Mouth moved to form words but no sound would come out, there was just the overwheleming panic, the unwavering knowledge they weren’t getting out of this. And it was her fault. Jonas was hurt and it was her fault. He deserved better than this.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Kitty! Kitty,” Jonas called, his voice breaking through the darkness. “Look at me Kitty, look at me, it’s going to be ok, everything’s going to be ok.”

Savannah laughed and it was a crackle of lightning, a warning bell and a swan song. There was no out, there was leaving. They were going to die...

PART 4 … OF ?

The yard needed tending badly they realized together as they pulled up to their little house one Wednesday night. And so the following Saturday, Jonas lured Kitty out of bed before noon with coffee and biscuits, and the two made a trek to the local hardware store. They returned later, Kitty’s lap full of flowers she insisted they needed. 

Kitty began clearing out the weedy flowerbeds and window boxes. Jonas found it amusing how enamored with the idea of the boxes she was. Meanwhile he took to dragging the fallen limbs from the recent storm to the street. More than once he turned around to find her staring at him before she quickly went back to work with her flowers. He wasn’t sure what was taking so long–just stick them in the ground, right?–but he quietly continued clearing the yard, moving on to raking the leaves. 

The front yard finished, he went back to his truck to get the leaf bags before the wind blew away his work. Just as he grabbed them, he heard a shriek of delight behind him, turning in time to see Kitty disappear into the main pile of dry leaves. They bloomed out in a cloud around her and her giggles while he sighed and walked over to her. 

“That’s not usually a step in this process,” he said, looking down at her half-covered in leaves. 

“I needed a break! Don’t be such a grump,” she admonished, pulling a twig out of her bangs. He shut his eyes for a moment, rubbing his forehead. She was frowning a little when he opened them. “Sorry if broke the rules,” she said. “Do you like the flowers?” she added, sitting up and brushing herself off.

He turned and looked, and was honestly surprised. The house was positively picturesque now. She’d cleared out lots of old plants he’d hardly noticed anymore, and cleaned the boxes until they were actually the green they were intended to be. And in every space available, she’d planted flowers, but not just in the clumps that Jonas would’ve. There was a definite rhyme and reason and even finesse to the design, he had to admit. “They’re really nice,” he said, feeling bad for doubting her. “It looks great.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said, but held up her hands. “Help me up?” 

He offered her a hand, the other still holding the bags, which ultimately left him somewhat off balance. Even a tug from the small woman sent him reeling into the pile next to her, a yelp of surprise coming from him and laughter from her. Sitting up and spitting a leaf or two out of his mouth, he rounded on her. “What was that for?”

He trudged up the first flight of stairs. They were his least favorite thing about this apartment, particularly on nights like this, nights when he came home late and exhausted. He was halfway up the second flight when he looked up and saw Kitty standing at the top of them. One of his sweaters nearly swallowed her up, and the sleeves dangled past her fingers. He smiled tiredly. “What’s up? Why are you still up?” he asked quietly, coming to a halt a pair of steps below her on the landing. “You shouldn’t have stayed up.”