Work Text:
She’d fallen asleep at her desk again.
Her stays were digging mercilessly into tender flesh, her boots pinching uncomfortably.
And her neck - goodness!
It was only when Katherine stretched her abused arms that she realized she hadn’t fallen asleep at her desk.
And she wasn’t alone.
Jack was beside her, curled on his side, his newspaper bag folded under his head like a scratchy canvas pillow.
That was when she remembered.
Yesterday.
Last night.
While Jack and the boys hit the streets, she returned home and transformed her scribbled notes into a story that deserved its spot on the front page. Above the fold, thank you very much.
Katherine delivered it to the Sun and returned home, full of a restless energy that she couldn’t seem to release.
She found herself waiting on the rooftop for Jack.
And, oh, his face when he’d climbed that ladder and saw her there. She wished that she could draw like him because Katherine never wanted to forget that face.
They’d talked all night, sharing the dinner that Katherine had brought. He told her about his parents and his friends. The dime novels that had introduced him to the dream of Santa Fe.
She didn’t talk about her family - the specter of Joseph Pulitzer had no place in this night. She talked instead about writing and her hopes for the future. That her story about the strike’s end would make the front page, that she could cover real news, for some small inkling of respect from her paper ...
When they’d both started to drift off to sleep, Katherine had been seized by the brief, rational thought that staying was a terrible idea.
But going home, alone, seemed so much worse.
Now that she was awake, though, Katherine wondered if she’d made a mistake. If anyone saw her climbing down from the roof, disheveled as she was, they’d think terrible things of her.
And the conversations that were so easy last night - what would she say when Jack woke up?
If she had some way to leave a note, she’d just slip down the stairs now, but she won’t leave without telling him. It’s too cruel.
That’s when she hears him stirring and Katherine tears her gaze from the metal stairs and looks back at Jack.
He’s looking at her, with something akin to awe.
“You’re th’ most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Katherine would scoff, but the expression on Jack’s face is so tender, so serious, that she can’t. She leans in as he reaches toward her, gently touching a curl that was tugged free while she slept.
And anyway, she completely understands because he may be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. The shadow of scruff on his jaw, his dark sleepy eyes ... she can’t resist kissing him.
He releases her curl, hand slipping to her cheek ... her chin ... until the sound of shouting below interrupts them.
“Go to work,” Katherine tells him.
“I’ll see you later?” he asks, with some of the uncertainty (And if I’m gone tomorrow ...) of their first meeting on this roof in his voice.
“You’ll see me later.” she promises.
fin