gonna_live | (no subject)

(no subject)

To add insult to injury, it's a slow week at the shop.

Kaylee closes early a couple of days with a note on the door and the autoreply in case anyone sends a wave.

It's one such day where she comes home, takes a nap, and gets up and starts to cook something complicated while barefoot.

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He shakes his head. "I didn't have anything specific in mind, but ... maybe some angle on engineering design that could be profitable. Maybe something else entirely. It could at least give you an idea of what else you could do."

"I don't even know if they'd take my secondary certificate." Beat. "Simon, you know where I'm from, right?"

"Of course I --"

He breathes out.

"That's no reason to dismiss your qualifications. But yes. I could see it being used as one."

"We were flat out told that what we left school with wasn't gonna get us into anything wasn't a grunt track. And I didn't even bother, because who needs to waste credits I didn't have anyway on a grunt track when I had my daddy?"

Kaylee desperately wants a kitchen utensil to gesture angrily with, but the spoon would drip on the floor, and the knife seems excessive.

"I'd start from nothing. Less than nothing, if I had to requalify for secondary. And I'd fail out because I'm too rutting old."

He's gone a little pale.

"That's --" he says, and stops himself.

And starts again, quieter. "I didn't know."

Kaylee presses the heel of her hand to her forehead.

Much more subdued: "Sorry. I'm just -- I can't do it. I don't like thinkin' about what I can't do."

(What he wants to say -- to shout, if he's honest with himself -- is something about how insane that is, how completely idiotic, do they seriously think the population of Three Hills can't possibly produce anyone who could benefit from a genuine education, can they really be that stupid --)

(And he won't, because she knows, and because hearing him vent about it won't help.)

"I'm sorry," he says, low, and rests his hand on her shoulder again.

Kaylee's hand drops. "I don't even know what kind of credential you'd need to get on with a firm around here. So, what -- looking at five years? If I'm lucky?"

Simon breathes out. "It would depend on the program, but ... it could be about that, yes."

She stands there for a moment without saying anything.

Timid:

"It'd be stupid not to even just look into it. Right?"

Half a beat; he looks up.

"Well ..." Cautiously. "If nothing else, it'd give us an idea how close that estimate is. And if you're right that it would be too much time and effort to spend for an uncertain benefit, then you're right and we can just put it away."

Kaylee nods, and doesn't say anything right away.

"You should have a cupcake." Without looking at them.

"I plan to," he says promptly. "Before supper, or after?"

"...what's wrong with both?" Trying a small smile.

It's the response he half-expected, and was hoping for.

"Temptress," he says, and leans to kiss her cheek before moving toward the cupcakes. "What kind are they?"

"Chocolate with a vanilla cream cheese frosting."

Kaylee looks smug.

As well she should.

"They smell delicious," he says, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

"And if you want to make friends at work, I reckon they could probably have leftovers." Kaylee's turning her attention back to the stock pot.

"Now there's an idea." Drying his hands. "Winning friends and influencing people with baked goods."

He reaches for a cupcake, takes a bite, and smiles slowly while chewing.

Serenely: "I've found it to be real effective in the past."

"Mmmm. Is it bad that I'm contemplating actual bribery?"

Another bite.

"Depends on who it is you're tryin' to bribe."

"I was thinking coworkers," he says. "To cover for me next time I want to leave work early. Or something similar."

"Don't forget," Kaylee says, cheerfully, "you need to bribe me into makin' 'em."

"That's true," he says solemnly, holding the last fragment of cupcake. "I'll just have to set myself to thinking of some way to do that."