#kitterick

“Fine,” she says. Roderick looks doubtful.

“It’s just, you haven’t really been yourself all night, not since me and Lor made the announcement.” He pauses. “This isn’t—it’s not about… high school, is it?”

He’s turning a little pink, somewhere around his ears and cheeks, and Kitty knows what he’s getting at. Roderick never has been the best at facing things head on.

“Am I still in love with you, you mean?” She laughs, but it’s easy and light and lacking in cruelty. The kind of guileless laugh that she never thought she’d be capable of producing. “Oh, get over yourself. I mean you are a catch…” she adds, to watch the pink blush deepen to red, and leans over to bump him with her shoulder. “You sure you’re ready to come off the market already?”

Roderick ducks his head and doesn’t dignify the teasing with an answer. The day he stops tripping up over praise will be the day he dies, Kitty thinks, and she thinks she’s okay with that.

She could be in love with him, she thinks. She knows how easy it would be—the softness of his voice and the way he holds fragile things in his hands and the way she had never been too sharp or too loud or too cold for him, the way he’d never tried to shrink her into a mould, clashed against her rough edges without trying to file them away or to make her easier to love, showed her that she could make things grow and she didn’t have to turn into something she wasn’t to do it. But he’s happy now, the soaring, boundless kind of happiness that he’s always thought is for other people, and just seeing him this way is enough.

She thinks it is, at least.

“It’s just, you’re getting married, you know? You and Lor, you’re getting married.” She’s pretty sure she’s happy for them, and that it’s showing in her voice; Roderick takes a breath next to her and it’s somehow a happy breath and Kitty thinks maybe she’s never loved him more. “And that’s a thing people our age do now, which—And the breakup with Steve was pretty rough. I guess I’m still coming down from it.”

“Yeah.” Roderick says, sort of pained. He doesn’t know all the details, but he knows how hard Kitty took it. It’s still a fresh wound. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Kitty shakes her head, scrunching up her nose with her smile. “I’ll be okay.” she says. “And Roderick?”

“Hm?”

Roderick pushes back by reflex the spike of jealousy that rises when he thinks of his classmates all moving on to university. He can’t afford to; even if they were in any position to pay tuition costs, he knows well enough that his mom can’t support his brother and sister the way they deserve to be supported without Roderick bringing in an income.

“That’s great!” Roderick says, even before he’s finished working through all this in his head. Still, the words coming out of her mouth don’t quite match up with the misery in her expression, the fact that she drove over at midnight to speak to him. He figures it out before she can tell him, and says it so she won’t have to.

“You came over here to break up with me.”

Her fingers dig a little tighter into her coat sleeves, and she nods. “Whatever it is we’ve been doing these past few months,” she says, “I think it’s best if we make a clean break before I go off to New York. I’ve seen enough long distance things in my time to know they get messy fast.”

Roderick can’t fault her for her logic, but he doesn’t know what to say, either. They stand there on the doorstep, neither of them moving, for a long time before Kitty speaks again, softly enough that Roderick has to lean in to hear her.

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

_

They’re 20 years old, and Roderick is only one year into his undergrad degree where Kitty is three years into hers. He comes home to the apartment they’ve been sharing and Kitty is sitting on the floor of the living room, notes from her econ class abandoned to one side and her laptop in front of her, playing Netflix while she does her level best to drink a whole bottle of cheap wine.

“What are we watching?” he asks, settling down next to her on the floor as easy as breathing. She offers him a sip from her glass.

“Project Runway.” she says. “This guy thinks he’s going to sew Christmas lights into a dress, it’s a train wreck.” Now that Roderick is here, she curls up into his shoulder. “Are you gonna cook tonight or should I just order a pizza now?”

“Pizza.”

“Good choice.”

_

They’re 23 years old, and they’re in that long moment of anticipation, everyone holding someone’s hand staring at Kurt and Blaine’s TV screen. Roderick has a well-documented tendency to fidget, so much so that Kitty doesn’t even need to glance across to know that he’s bouncing his leg, muttering “come on come on come on come on” under his breath too softly for her to hear. Someone else in the room is saying it too, loud enough to be heard around the room, and it’s not like everyone there isn’t thinking it.

She and Roderick are not together right now, and maybe they’ll hear about it later, but the announcer says “Ms Rachel Berry!” and there’s no pair of arms Kitty would rather throw herself into than Roderick’s.

_

They’re 24 years old, and Kitty’s own predictability almost makes her laugh sometimes- it’s the reason why, when Marley lets herself into Kitty’s apartment and hears ‘Back to December’ blaring at full volume off her laptop, she doesn’t have to ask what’s happened.

“Oh, no.” she says, when she’s made her way up to the bedroom and Kitty doesn’t even look up from where she’s lying on the bed, soaking in the music. “Do you need anything?”

“How many times can we screw this one thing up?” Kitty asks, in lieu of answering the question. “I mean, it’s me, it’s Roderick; it’s supposed to be easy.”

And Kitty hasn’t asked her to, but Marley is slipping off her jacket and her shoes and sliding into bed next to her, where they stare at the ceiling together. “My mom always says,” Marley begins, and then lets out a brief, self-conscious laugh. “Every mom in the world always says,” she amends, “if you love something, you let it go.”

“And then it comes back to you.” Kitty says; whether it’s to herself or to Marley or to the ceiling, she isn’t sure. “And then it goes, and it comes back, and it goes again.”

The song has ended and started over again.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out.” Marley says. “You’ll see.”

_

They’re 26 years old, and they’re friendly exes but tumultuous lovers, or so Jane has pointed out to them a number of times. They’re at one of Kitty’s post-Thanksgiving get togethers and when Kitty pointedly finds a place as far away from Roderick as possible to stand, she tries her best to ignore the way Jane’s eyes follow her.

“Wipe that smug look off your face.” she says, without even having to look to know it’s there, and Jane, bless her heart, does her best to obey.

_

They’re 28 years old, and they’re lying in bed, Roderick tracing Kitty’s collarbone absently with his thumb. Kitty has made fun of him for this before, the fact that he lies down and looks at her like this, because his glasses are off and he’s very farsighted and the overall effect is sort of a blurry blob, but of all of the blurry blobs in the world, she’s the one he’d pick.

“What if we got married?” he whispers. Just so it’s out there.

Kitty makes a soft, affectionate noise in her throat. Roderick’s heard this noise before, and he knows the smile that goes with it, gentle and a pinch patronising, eyes half lidded with sleep. “That something you’ve been thinking about?” she asks.

Roderick doesn’t answer yes or no, because that would seem to imply an intention one way or the other. “What if we did?”

She shuffles a little under the blanket, slips one hand under her pillow the way she always does, hums. “Then you’d have to do a lot better than proposing to me in bed, lover boy.”

If Roderick wants to pursue it further, he doesn’t get the chance to, because by the time he thinks of anything else to say she’s already asleep.

_

They’re 30 years old, and Roderick is walking with her to her gate in the airport. It’s nothing they haven’t done before, but it’s also uncharted territory.

In one hand she has her one way ticket to London. In the other is Roderick’s hand, warm and solid and steady as it’s always been.

There’s a long, disoriented moment where Kitty can’t remember which one she needs to let go of.

“They’re calling for your flight.” Roderick says, nodding towards the departure gate. “You’d better go.”

He hands her carry on over to her, slowly and a little pained. The longer Kitty looks at Roderick, the more she feels like saying screw the job, the excitement, the opportunity, the city she’s always wanted to live in, and getting back into Roderick’s car and having him drive her back down to his apartment. Just staying with him forever.

Forever. Huh.

“This isn’t goodbye.” she says, because if she says it out loud enough times it’s bound to be true. Right? “Life will bring us together again.”

Roderick smiles, and Kitty tries to absorb the warmth of it, so she’ll have something to hold onto for the long plane ride. “Of course it will.” he says. “It always does, with us.”

And then there’s nothing else to say, so Kitty wraps her arms around his neck and Roderick wraps his arms around her waist and he holds her, for a long, too-short moment. And wiping her eyes would be admitting that there are tears there, which Kitty doesn’t want to do, but it’s going to smudge her makeup in a second so when she pulls away, she dabs at her eyes with the back of her hand and smiles at him.

“See you around.” she says, because “goodbye” seems too final.

“See you around.” Roderick says.

She steps through the gate, and Roderick stands right in that spot until Kitty can’t see him anymore.

_

“Rivers and roads, rivers and roads, rivers till I reach you…

Roderick Meeks is a virgin. Funny how those obvious truths can slap you in the face sometimes.

Kitty knew he had to be a virgin, of course, because everybody knows everything in this school, and she, in particular, really knows everything. She’s just never actually thought about it before, and now that she does, it’s kind of… jarring. Because obviously she’s no angel herself, and Jane and Mason have certainly been up to something; Madison’s various conquests are legendary in the girls’ locker room, God knows Spencer’s screwing his hippie boyfriend until he screams the theme to Portlandia, and the Warblers are all boning each other just as nature intended. So aside from Myron, Roderick Meeks is literally the only virgin in the New Directions, and Kitty’s pretty sure the only reason that horny little mongoose Myron is still on that list is his balls haven’t dropped. Things look grim.

She becomes alerted as to the situation in a dance rehearsal, when she chides him for needing to loosen up. “We really need to get you laid, Meeks,” she says, offhand.

Roderick, par for the course, goes absolutely scarlet and manages to trip over the piano bench. Stellar work.

But Kitty’s trying to be less of a bitch to these kids. She likes them. So she approaches him at his locker the next day with a crooked little I-fucked-up smile, the closest thing anyone will ever get to an apology out of her. She’s used up all her apologies for this lifetime.

“If I embarrassed you the other day, I wasn’t trying to.”

“It’s fine,” says Roderick, a bit too tightly to mean it.

“I just figured it would be obvious.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hey.” He’s acting pissy, and she doesn’t totally blame him, but she also won’t have it. Because she’s trying to help here, dammit, and her charitable moments are too rare to be cast aside. Kitty plants herself directly in his path, squaring her shoulders. She’s about a third his size, but he looks daunted. 

“I know people here haven’t been that nice to you but that’s no excuse to deliberately assume the worst of everything I say.”

God, Roderick’s easy to guilt trip. He shuts his mouth, lets her speak.

“What I meant was it’s obvious you haven’t done the dirty, not that it’s obvious you’d never get the chance. Because actually, you totally could. You just haven’t. Happy?”

“Not particularly.” Roderick’s fiddling with his backpack strap, trying to look occupied. His words come out hard and bitter. “It’s a little hard to take that at face value when I know for a fact nobody at this school would fuck me if I was the last man on earth.”

It takes Kitty a second to register his answer. She’s distracted by his hands, working the strap of his backpack as if by touch he could memorize its every detail. He’s said he’s not a physical person, his shrugging explanation for being lost on the dance floor, but Kitty doesn’t really think that’s true. He’s very tactile. She has to mentally slap herself back into the conversation. “Have you asked them all? Actually, scratch that, have you asked any of them?”

“Do I need to?”

“I have literally no time for your self-effacing bullshit, Stay-Puft. You know what the single most attractive quality in a man is? Confidence.”

Roderick rolls his eyes. “Great, I’ll get back to you when I have a reason to be sexually confident. Especially in this ocean of toxic testosterone that calls itself a school. Like it’s kinda hard when every guy in the grade feels the need to brag about their ‘conquests’ in public - why aren’t guys allowed to express doubt about this kind of thing? Why’s it got to be all hyping yourself up all the time?”

Kitty gives this a moment of though. It deserves one. “So… you have doubts?”

“Well… yeah.”

He says it as if it ought to be obvious, and yet she knows he’s never actually admitted to it before. He seems to find it a relief. It’s the sort of thing a guy like Puck or Jake would have bitten off his own tongue before admitting. Maybe even Artie, once he’d left Lima and gotten cocky. The honesty is refreshing. Kitty gives him a look that is both appraising and approving.

Roderick colours, and jumps to explain himself. “I’m not just concerned for my own ego, I’m not stupid enough to just not have sex because I couldn’t handle being bad at it or whatever… I don’t want to be someone the girl regrets.”

“You know it’s something you get better at, right? Nobody has a good experience their first time.” The words leave a bitter taste in Kitty’s mouth, and she forces herself not to think of what she’s thinking about. Maybe, at this point, she’d tell him – and the rest of the Glee Club – if they asked, if they needed to know. But they don’t. She hates pity.

“I’ve heard it hurts for the girl,” said Roderick, quietly.

Kitty shrugs. Her tone is offhand. She has to be careful not to allow herself to feel. “Sometimes. Depends. But if you’re that worried, there’s all kinds of things you can do that don’t hurt – that any girl would thank you for doing.”

Roderick looks confused.

“Certain services,” Kitty elaborates.

The other shoe drops. “Oh,” he replies, his eyes wide as dinner plates.

She can’t witness this much longer. He’s completely lost. And she can see why it’s been hard for him to find his way through the maze of high school sex, because who else is going to tell him these things?

Screw it, Kitty thinks. “…Ugh, I can’t believe it’s come to this but this is just too sad – I may be able to teach you about these services.”

-

It takes him about four hours to change his mind, as she knew it would. When her phone chimes that evening she has no doubt of who it is. He’s sheepish. Embarrassed beyond belief. Kitty remains bossy and businesslike, laying down the law.

“We can use my room. My parents are never home, we really don’t need your mom walking in and I respect myself just a little too much to try this in a car. But first: ground rules.”

He nods. He’s taking it more seriously than she’s ever seen him take anything in his life.

“One: You keep your clothes on. Sorry, hon, there are probably people in this world who’re into the whole ‘one too many snickers bars or maybe a thousand’ thing, but I’m not one of them.”

A wince. She wonders if she’s going too far. But she’s harsh, he knows she’s harsh, and falling back on harshness feels so easy right now. Her reliable old armor.

“Rule two: You do what I tell you to do and nothing more. Don’t go exploring unless I say so.”

“I wouldn’t,” he objects, turning red. “I would never.” And he’s one of the few boys on earth she actually believes.

“And now you double would never, because I’ll kick your ass and call the cops. Rule three: You have to commit. This requires practice and finesse. Don’t think you can learn it in one afternoon. I’m a busy bitch, so get your ass over here whenever I can schedule you in until you’re good at it.”

A dutiful nod.

“Rule four: The safe word is red.”

“Safe word?”

“People get up to things that aren’t comfortable, that can hurt. If something crosses the line, for either of us, we use the safe word.”

He seems to get that, and take some comfort in it.

“Rule five, and this is the most important rule. This isn’t personal. It’s lessons. I’m doing this because I can’t stand watching you mope around Forever Aloneville anymore and am fucking nice, not for any other reason. I’m not into you. Keep that straight. Okay?”

He nods again, more steadily than before.

“Good,” says Kitty, feeling reassured. And yet… oddly hollow. Probably just because he’s not the only one with a residence in Aloneville, even if his is a more permanent one. Yeah, definitely that. Artie can go to hell. She grabs Roderick’s arm and marches him to her computer. “Time for some anatomy lessons.”

-

Kitty lies on her back in panties and a t-shirt, arms loose at her sides.

Roderick blinks at her.

“Go to the foot of the bed,” Kitty commands. Her skin feels cool, half-clothed in the open air of the room. It’s almost uncomfortable, a faint frisson that raises the flesh of her arms just slightly.

Roderick obeys. He’s without his glasses, eyes wide.

“Find a comfortable position, but your face has to be between my legs.”

He settles himself between her knees. All she can see of him from this angle is his head and shoulders. Clinically, she decides this is acceptable – his shoulders are a good feature, broad and powerful. He could be a bodybuilder from this angle, albeit one with a very smooth, rounded face.

Well, no time like the present. “Kiss your way up my thighs.”

He bows his head. Feather-touches move across her inner thighs, soft, warm, too hesitant. More. “Like you mean it, Meeks. You can use your tongue a little.”

Now it’s a wet pressure, still a little lost.

“Less than that. You’re not a dog. Lips, tongue and breath. Use all three.”

The meandering warm wetness becomes a cascade of sensation, hot breath turning cool as the moisture on her skin evaporates. She feels the faint scratchiness of a half-day’s stubble, and shivers.

Nothing emotional to it, of course. It’s raw physiological sensation, that’s all.

“Good. Work your way up.”

“This isn’t so hard,” Roderick murmurs into the softness of her inner thigh.

“Now pull off my panties with your teeth.”

He stops dead, looking up at her with huge brown eyes. “What?”

Kitty feels a thrill of control. She was hoping for that reaction, just that look of stunned surprise. Her voice grows firmer. “Do it. Fast and a little rough.”

He cannot do it a little rough. That’s a word that is not in his vocabulary. But when he slides her panties down her knees with a look of deep concentration and a gentleness she can only describe as tender, Kitty decides to permit it.

The panties fall forgotten at the foot of the bed. His brown eyes widen. Strange, how, exposed as she is, Kitty doesn’t feel vulnerable. She feels powerful. Her vulnerability has become her power.

“Start with your mouth. I’ll make you use your hands later, but it has to be as wet as possible or you can do damage.” She’s damp already, but does not expect it to be enough.

Roderick bows his head again. Kitty feels hot breath, then wetness, and a warm motion against her vulva. She exhales, sharply, involuntarily.

He raises his head again, thinking he’s hurt her somehow. “Sorry- was that-”

“Don’t stop,” Kitty snaps.

He tries his tongue, and the force that made her gasp flows into a warmth that fills her pelvis. All Kitty can see are her bare, smooth knees and his bulky shoulders moving under the embroidered pattern of his shirt, his dark hair, the well-groomed blonde curls between her legs. She wants to play with his hair. She doesn’t let herself. She shouldn’t want that.

Kitty doesn’t think she could possibly be more wet. She’s aching.

“Now. Your hand.”

She expects him to be good at this, the way he touches everything as if to caress it. She’s not wrong. His fingers explore her. She can feel the curiosity in his motions, and the naivety of it is equal parts calming and frustrating; it feels good, but it winds the coil of tension in her hips, tighter and tighter with each wasted second. “Higher. The round thing at the top – yes.” His fingers brush her clit. She shivers.

Then he catches her by surprise. He uses his mouth again. Tongue and fingers and lips and breath in succession. Kitty wonders dimly if he’s thinking to keep her wet, scared of causing her discomfort – or if he’s going off books, finally acting on instinct.

The thought is gone as soon as it arrives. There’s an intense tension building inside her, vibrating in her limbs. “Now,” she gasps. “Two – two fingers. Don’t stop with your mouth.”

He pushes inside her. They’ve talked about this part, used technical terms for this and that, but now all of that is gone. She has no idea what he’s doing. Only that it feels good. A little bulky, rough in texture (guitarist’s hands, she thinks), but good. Kitty quiets, taking it in.

After a few minutes Roderick raises his head. Again the wide eyes framed in a round face. His look begs a question. What now? Is this okay?

This time, Kitty addresses him with tenderness. “Now use your tongue for that,” she says, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

He does. Kitty’s eyes roll back in her head; her breath comes in short gasps. A slow warm wave rolls over her.

She’s orgasmed more intensely before, but this - this is good. It feels needed.

She waits until she can tell he’s flagging, breathing hard. Then she strokes his head to signal he can come up for breath. “That’s enough.”

The warm heat leaves her with a dull glow. Roderick, completely flattened, rolls off to one side and onto the floor with a thump. Kitty gets to her feet, all business once again, finds her panties and pulls them on, followed by a pair of pajama bottoms. “Not bad for a first try,” she says matter-of-factly. “Technique shows a lot of promise. You need to work on endurance.”

Roderick looks stunned by what he’s just done. She hands him a water bottle from the bedside table and watches him gulp half of it down, his chest heaving.

-

After a few runs he can keep going longer. Kitty snaps at him if he tries to stop too early. He gets a kicked-puppy look about him, apologetic and eager to please. She teaches him to use his hands and mouth and even his voice. Kitty gets accustomed to spending many of her nights with a loose satisfaction in every limb. Brown eyes enter her dreams.

Nobody at school has a clue about her new servant, and like a good servant he understands discretion. She’s harder on him than she ever was before, to bury the evidence. He pretends to feel every verbal jab, never acknowledging their secret.

-

On the eighth night of the lessons she lets him into the house with the same businesslike manner as ever, leads him up to her room and closes the door. She lies down. Roderick takes up his usual place at the foot of the bed. Kitty shakes her head at him. “Not this time.”

Roderick looks up at her, obviously confused. “…Something else this time?”

“On the bed.”

There’s apprehension in his eyes, but he obeys.

“Unbutton your shirt.”

It’s the same reaction as when she first told him to take off her panties with his teeth, but amplified, and tinged, now, with fear. “But- rule number one-”

“Fuck rule number one. I made the rules, I can change them.”

“I don’t-”

Kitty shakes her head at him. “Too bad. Do it.”

The look he gives her is so readable that she gives in, just a little. “You’re going to have to get used to this sooner or later,” says Kitty, a touch more gently. “Call it the next lesson. You need to be naked for it to work. And I can’t tolerate one more second near those horrible cowboy shirts. C’mon, hurry up. Clothes off.”

He shuffles out of his button-up and the white t-shirt he wears underneath it. His jeans and boxers fall in a pile on her floor.

“Lie down,” commands Kitty.

She looks at him. She makes a point of it, guarding her expression for a long moment.

He’s broad and very pale, enough that she doubts the skin of his chest has seen the sun in years. His chest and upper arms are thick and soft. Wide hips support a protruding belly lined with what Kitty thinks must be stretch marks. Dark hair forms a tidy diamond shape on his chest and another between his legs. The overall impression is one of softness and vulnerability.

While Kitty takes all this in, Roderick watches her with a frozen expression. Every muscle in his body is taut under the fat. He looks like he’s an inch away from bolting. But he’s also hard, something far more obvious now than it ever has been in these lessons.

A crooked smile tugs at Kitty’s lips.

“…Can you please just do whatever you’re going to do and get it over with?” he asks, through gritted teeth.

“Feeling exposed?” she asks him, teasingly.

“Kitty…”

“I was exposed earlier. Fair is fair, Meeks.”

He has no response for that, and stares balefully up at her.

“Now it’s my turn,” says Kitty.

A small part of her wonders why she’s doing this. Maybe it’s charity, like she told him; maybe this is the best thing for him. She’s grown… fond of him, after all. But there is a thrill of energy that runs down her smile when she seems him like this,  vulnerable and luscious and exposed, and she can’t explain that with fondness. It’s darker and sweeter than that. She climbs into the bed, on top of him.

Kitty starts at his shoulders and moves up and down his body. She pokes and prods and kisses and bites at every inch of him in turn, cruel one minute and kind the next. Her teeth leave faint red marks in thighs so white and soft that they are almost creamy. She grabs his ass, feeling evil satisfaction at how it is so much more than a handful. She kisses his arms and his large hands. She nuzzles against the strong line of his collarbone. His terrified silence begins to yield to twitches and moans as slowly his whole body relaxes. Until she runs a hand down his stomach, and he flinches.

“What are you so afraid of?” Kitty asks him, crossing her arms.

“People’ve made cracks about my weight since day one,” says Roderick, wincing, screwing up his face painfully. “You’ve made cracks about my weight since day one. And now you’re breaking your own rules and I’m… waiting for it all to turn into a joke, or something.”

Kitty sucks in a breath. She thought the fear in his eyes would fade quickly, but it hasn’t.

She lowers her eyes and gets off him, clambering away to sit at the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t have done this,” she blurts.

Even hard as a rock and with every nerve on overdrive, Roderick seems to perceive something is wrong. He moves closer and reaches out a hand. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

“You don’t like this,” Kitty finds herself saying. “You’re not comfortable. I shouldn’t be doing this to you.” She sees it now - an ugly truth settling over her. She has power over him, and that’s what excites her. She remembers being vulnerable. Being helpless at the hands of someone more experiences, more powerful. She remembers feeling ugly and exposed. She knows now that this has been all about taking back what he stole from her. She’s known it from the start, in some dark part of her subconscious.

What is unforgivable is that she’s done it at Roderick’s expense. Nobody deserves to feel the way she felt.

Kitty bites her lip, feeling a stinging pain in her throat.

“I didn’t say red,” says Roderick, quietly.

In all honesty, Kitty forgot about red. She’s never actually used a safe word. By the time she knew they existed she did not need them.

“Nobody forced me to stay,” he says, a little more firmly. “My name may be Meeks but I’ve been around long enough not to let you do anything I really didn’t want. I felt like you could hurt me – but you didn’t. It felt good. It’s like you said, this is good for me.”

“I don’t actually know whether it’s good for you or not,” admits Kitty. Hating herself. “Maybe I just get drunk off power like the bitch I am…”

It’s then that she recognizes, in a rush of regret, that there is a third force motivating her through these ‘lessons’. “...And maybe I just wanted to get my hands on you without sacrificing my pride.”

That stuns him into silence.

“I think the lessons are over, Roderick.” She swallows. “It’s my fault. You were an exceptional pupil and I broke all the rules on you – I took your clothes, I pushed things without permission and I tried to twist this for my own fucked-up motivations. I’m sorry.”

Roderick’s quiet for another moment. It lasts eternity. Then at last he breaks the silence. “…You broke rule five?”

Kitty slowly glances up at him. His hopeful little smile carves a dimple in his left cheek.

Fuck rule five, she thinks, and grabs his face with both hands, kissing him soundly in reply.

When they break apart he’s beaming. Shyly elated, all nervousness gone.

The two were just talking about nothing in general. Whatever it was that came into either one of their heads. It was all just nonsense to get Kitty’s mind off of whatever had been troubling her that night. That was how these nights normally went for them, and that’s how they both liked them. In fact, these spur of the moment rescue outings were always Roderick’s favorite. Because in the mess of nonsense and rambling he got to see the real Kitty Wilde. Not the one that hid behind her ranking as Cheerio captain or the one who took charge as mama bird to the New Directions. It was just plain Kitty, and the things that made her laugh, and the things that made her think, and the things that made her.

Part way through a conversation where they were comparing Pop Punk to Punk Rock (it had started as a simple conversation about the Ramones) Roderick realized that Kitty had gone particularly quiet. Turning his head to look at her, he found her to be peacefully sleeping, curled up in a little ball as she rested against his car’s windshield. This wasn’t a surprise to him, since it had happened before on numerous occasions. When it did he would usually lift her up and lay her down in his back seat to bring her home. (Unfortunately when they got there he would have to wake her, but at least she got some sleep for the night. Even if just a little.) However, he’d always linger a few moments before moving her; just to insure that she was completely asleep and that he wouldn’t startle her awake.

These few moments normally resulted in Roderick sitting in the quiet, staring up at the sky or watching her in a way that wasn’t meant to be creepy, just to know when she was fully asleep. Tonight it ended up being the latter. Kitty was curled up, and her face just looked so peaceful. A way that, if you knew Kitty Wilde, it rarely ever looked. So, he wanted to take it in as much as he could because god only knew when he’d see it again next.

As he sat there in the quiet, watching this girl sleep so soundly, he started to think things he probably shouldn’t be thinking she looks really cute when she’s asleep.. And wanting to say things that probably shouldn’t be said this time together means more to me than I probably let on and I’ve really started to care about you... And he didn’t know if it was just the fact that he  was tired from how late it was, or if he had gone a little bit crazy; but he couldn’t exactly stop himself. He leaned over, brushed some of the hair away from her face because outside of school she didn’t need to have a high pony and  very gently kissed her forehead. After he did he pulled his head away from her and let out a soft sigh; more than happy that she was asleep and he was capable of doing that. But also upset with himself that it wasn’t something he could do to her when they were both fully aware with what was going on. If only that were how things worked. 

One handed, the man shoves Roderick back. “This doesn’t concern you.” he repeats.

Roderick is only 24, what must be half of this man’s years of toughened hands and well-worn muscles, but he’s sober, and he’s mad, and his size isn’t for nothing. He exchanges the shove for a slap, open handed over the guy’s ear, the way he knows from experience hurts like a bitch. The man doubles over, as expected.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits. “I said mind your business!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Look at her!” This isn’t a dialogue; he doesn’t want to hear the man’s response, so he roars, loud enough to fill the bar, “Get out!”

Roderick doesn’t like to shout, not really, but he does it when necessary, because it works. His size and his image and the power of his voice are enough to make anyone think twice about what they’re risking, and the man releases the girl’s hand and slinks away.  She collapses onto a stool, taking shuddering breaths, and even from here Roderick can see the beginnings of a hand-shaped bruise on her arm.

“Are you alright?”

The girl blinks up at him, her eyes showing relief and gratitude and fear- fear of him. Roderick is just about the opposite of the archetypical knight in shining armour, with the bulk of his body and his tattoos and his leather jacket, but still, she clings to his arm and weeps, choking out half formed sentences about friends abandoning her and dead phone batteries. He rubs her arm and shushes her and eventually manages to pry her (gently) off him.

“How about you go splash your face with a little cold water?” he suggests. “It’ll calm you down.”

Roderick slaps two twenties onto the bar, to pay for his drinks and the girl’s, and accepts his change a little brusquely. He’s not exactly angry with the bartender for letting her drink- this bar doesn’t always see much traffic, and the guy’s gotta pay his bills, right?- but he is a little angry with him for not saying anything to the creep who was basically trying to kidnap this kid.

The girl comes out of the bathroom with a clean face and a slightly steadier gait and Roderick knew, intellectually, that she was underage, but now without the mascara and contouring, he can see it.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

She sniffs. “Bethany.”

“Do you have anyone you can call to come get you?” he asks, and when she starts again to explain her dead phone battery, “Here- you can use my phone.”

She takes the phone, smiles gratefully, and hesitates with a finger halfway to the dial pad.

“Parents?” he offers.

“God, no, they’ll kill me.” Bethany wipes at her nose and eyes with the back of her hand, and starts punching in a number. “I have a big sister.”

“Good, call her.” he says. “If you want, I’ll wait with you outside- by the sign, where it’s well lit- until she comes for you.”

The cool air does Bethany some good, and she livens up to ask him about his tattoos and the nasty scar that he got falling off his bike at 60mph. She tells him about her friends-who-aren’t-really-friends and how this isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to her. She’s a sweet kid, and she deserves better, but teenagers can be so cruel to each other- Roderick knows that all too well.

When Bethany shivers, Roderick lends her his leather jacket- draped over her shoulders like a jacket- and Bethany takes the liberty of taking his shades off his face to play around with them.

“Wanna hear a secret?” he offers, smiling as she holds them up to her eyes and squints, “Those are prescription. I can’t see shit right now.” She giggles and hands the shades back to him, and as Roderick is putting them back on it occurs to him to watch his tongue.

“Fuck,” he says, which really doesn’t help matters. “Shi- mother-damn it, I can’t swear in front of a kid.”

Unsurprisingly, that’s the part she takes umbrage with. “I am not a kid.”

Roderick raises an eyebrow. “R-ight.” he says. “How old are you?”

She doesn’t answer, glancing back at the bar.

“I’m not a cop.” Roderick says, “and I know you’re too young to be there, anyway. Come on, how bad is it?”

Her smile is small and guilty, but it tugs at the corners of her mouth in a way she can’t help. “Fifteen.” she says, which is pretty bad but unsurprising. Fifteen is just about the right age for the kinds of plans that haven’t been thought all the way through, and figuring out when your friends aren’t really your friends. Roderick pulls out a cigarette out of habit and then puts it back away.

“What’s your favourite subject?” he asks.

They’re sitting there for about twenty minutes before a silver sedan pulls into the car park and Bethany perks up. “That’s her car.” she explains, as if Roderick hasn’t already figured that much out for himself, and bounces a little. The car parks and out of the driver’s seat comes a young woman about Roderick’s age, wearing a university hoodie and the expression of someone who’s just woken up and Hasn’t Had Enough Coffee for This. She has Bethany’s renaissance painting features- which is to say, she’s sort of beautiful- and she’s not very big herself, and clearly whichever parent they take after has strong genes.

Bethany springs off the curb and launches herself unsteadily into her arms. “Kitty!” Roderick stands up- he’s preparing to go back inside, but he’s not going to until Bethany is in her sister’s car and they’re driving away. It’s not safe for either of them.

Kitty sighs, a sound that’s equal parts exasperation and relief, and lets Bethany hold her. “Did you learn your lesson at least?” she asks, holding Bethany out at arm’s length to check her over, and then smoothing her hair off her face. It’s only now that her eyes travel off her sister and land on Roderick, and her expression goes blank and a little bit chilly. Bethany feels it in her body language, or perhaps knows her sister well enough to predict her reaction. Roderick isn’t surprised- he has this effect on a lot of people.

“This is the guy whose phone I called you on.” Bethany explains. “He’s not a bad guy, he stopped this creep from dragging me out the bar.” She shrugs Roderick’s jacket off her shoulders, as if she’s just remembered she’s still wearing it. The girl, the sister, keeps one hand on Bethany’s waist, as if she’s forgotten to let go, and so Bethany has to sort of twist out of it to reach far enough to hand Roderick the jacket. That being done, the sister draws her back to her side, and takes a step forward.

Roderick waves sort of awkwardly. “I’m Roderick.” he says. “Hey.”

She looks him up and down with a cold sort of caution in her eyes, before extending a hand. “Catherine.” she says, and then, with some effort, “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

“No problem.” he says. “And hey, try to go easy on her? She could’ve done worse.” he jokes. “She could’ve ended up like me.”

There’s something a little warmer in Catherine’s appraisal this time. One side of her mouth quirks up in a little smile.