Work Text:
It hits Kitty while she's sitting in her husband's chair at his office, waiting for him to finish for the day, and watching Robert and Kevin argue about Obama's stance on health care.
She should feel annoyed that they are fighting again, that they are still fighting, even now that they are working together, and that she'll have to cancel the reservations at the restaurant she made for tonight because Kevin doesn't agree with Robert's opinion on the Scandinavian health care system.
Instead, she just feels left out, in a way she's never felt before. It occurs to her that this is how Kevin used to argue with her when they were still close, before she met Robert; that this is what Robert used to discuss with her before she wrote the book, before he hired Kevin.
She realizes that what Robert was looking for in his new communications director – the fervor, the stubbornness, the willingness to fight – was exactly what he'd seen in her when they first met; what not only had made him hire her, but also made him fall in love.
And she understands why he wanted Kevin for this job.
***
Once she's figured it out, it's easy to notice the signs. After all, everyone in her family is an expert when it comes to cheating, to being cheated, and she only has to ask herself why she didn't see it earlier. If she's honest, it's not even really a surprise: The story of Kitty's and Kevin's relationships reads like a double helix of endless variations of Kiss me, Kate, and Robert is just the type who likes the challenge of taming a shrew. And she wonders if not maybe setting up Kevin with Jason was her early subconscious attempt to resolve the tension that so obviously existed between her lover and her brother even then.
The problem is: She doesn't know what to do about it. The obvious thing would be to confront them, of course: break ties with Kevin, break up with Robert, file for divorce. It's what her mother would advise her to do, and Kitty can even admit that she would be right.
She doesn't want that, though. It makes her angry that they'd force her to make such a choice – but nevertheless, she doesn't want to lose her brother, to see his sad, guilty face every time they sit down for dinner at Nora's table; she doesn't want to lose her husband, to face the press in public and the empty bed at home and the mess with the baby that is due in two months. What it would do to the family, she doesn't even dare to think about.
What she wants – what she wants is for both of them to love her, to not to be too wrapped up in each other to remember that she still exists. And maybe that's pathetic, but that's how it is.
***
When they were little, Kitty and Kevin used to play wedding. She'd slip into her mother's frilly nightgown, and Kevin would reverently run his small, chubby hands over the soft fabric, over her hair. They 'd say the vows they'd made Sarah write down for them, and after the ceremony they'd kiss, and Nora thought it was the cutest thing ever.
They still kiss on the mouth. It's nothing unusual – they all do that in this family, even the boys; and maybe some people might think it's strange that Tommy, who once punched his baby brother in the face for being gay, doesn't hesitate to kiss his cheek and tell him I love you when the situation warrants it. But that's just how it's always been.
When they were older, they used to be each other's dates. Whenever Kitty was between boyfriends and didn't want to go alone, whenever Kevin didn't want people to know he was gay or just preferred his sister by his side. Sometimes they'd tell people that they were siblings, sometimes they wouldn't, and they thought it was hilarious when acquaintances congratulated Kitty on her handsome boyfriend. They'd stagger home early in the mornings, ending up in a heap on the couch in their parents' living room, and sometimes they'd fall asleep just like that, still in their clothes, half on top of each other.
***
She invites Kevin over for a glass of wine after work, ignoring the look Robert gives her when he thinks she doesn't notice. It's not as if it's a big deal – Kevin is over at their place all the time now anyways; sitting in their living room like he belongs there, working with Robert or talking with Kitty, to the point where Kitty doesn't even know anymore who's the one intruding.
Now, he's sprawled out on their couch, glass of red in white delicate hands, and she's chosen the seat next to him, forcing Robert to take the chair on the other side of the table.
Getting drunk is so easy. Getting Kevin drunk is, unsurprisingly, not a problem either. Robert is more resistant, if only because he is clearly uncomfortable with Kevin being here tonight – not that she can blame him for that - and unlike her family, discomfort doesn't automatically make him drink.
But eventually, there are still three empty bottles on the table, and Robert's reasoning is getting more imaginative. They are talking about nuclear power today, and she listens to their argument, like a good housewife who knows when to keep quiet, hears in what they are not saying how much they are enjoying themselves, and she leans into her brother, solid and strong against her side. Her head is heavy on his shoulder, and when he pauses, when he finally turns to look at her, it's easy to reach up and press her mouth against his.
He shoves her away, gently, but firmly. She expected that – her brother can be so rational at the most inconvenient times.
"You are drunk", he says, smiling, but there's the first trace of panic in his voice.
"I am", she agrees readily. She is. They all are, and she can hear Kevin's heart hammering under her ear, can feel Robert's eyes on her, on them.
"Time to go to sleep", Robert says, voice carefully neutral, and she expected that too. But she isn't going to let them put her to bed so that they can fuck each other in the kitchen against the sink. Not tonight.
She lets them help her up, move her to the bedroom, one on each side of her. She leans on her husband, and he carries her weight effortlessly until they reach the bed. Then he lets go, gives her a little shove to get her to sit down. Kevin's hand is still on her arm, though, and she reaches for his wrist, doesn't let go when she rolls over, just tugs hard, and he stumbles onto the bed with her. She drags him down for another kiss, and for half a second, he lets her, lets her lick the taste of red wine off his soft, pliant lips, before he remembers to struggle. He pulls free, staring at her with frightened eyes, until Robert puts a hand on his shoulder and pulls him off the bed.
"What do you think you're doing?" Robert says, face blank, voice empty, but he's still got his hand on Kevin's shoulder, and that more than anything else is what makes her angry. She sits up with an effort, raising her chin in the way he told her he found adorable years ago.
"What?" she asks. "You think you're the only one who can have it all? Who doesn't have to share?"
She hears Kevin's sharp intake of breath, but her eyes don't leave her husband, watching him grow pale under the mask of the politician she's come to hate.
"Kitty ..." he starts, but she doesn't want to hear.
"Damn it", she says. "I'm not even asking you to stop."
She doesn't remember much after that.
***
When Nora compared Robert to William, when she told her that if she'd caught her husband in a lie once, it wouldn't take long until it happened again, Kitty hated her for it. And didn't want to listen. It's what mothers always do – they see their own life mirrored in their daughters' lives, and every potential partner is compared to the one they've known for years.
It's more than annoying, and it's ridiculous, too – Kitty isn't in love with Robert because he reminds her of her father. She loves him because he's charismatic and strong and powerful, and because he treated her like she was, if not the most important thing, so still at least the most important person in his life.
And maybe that's what Nora saw in William, back then, too. But maybe it's just that there are a lot of men like this, and maybe her mother fell for one of them, too. Kevin obviously did as well, after all, and her brother certainly isn't one to go after guys who are likely to remind him of his dad.
And still, now, looking at the mess they're in, she wonders if not maybe what Robert did is even worse than her father's affairs: Making her a desperate housewife, making her brother his mistress, and she doesn't even have the five children to prove that there's something she can give him her brother can't.
Sarah thinks that everything comes so easily to Kitty, that she gets everything she wants. Her sister couldn't be more wrong. Because Sarah has never been where Kitty is now – even when Joe was kissing who they thought was their sister, Kitty knows that Sarah never felt like Kitty does now: Like sharing her brother, literally, sharing him with her husband is the only way left to prevent losing them both.
***
When she wakes up, she's in bed, under the covers, but still in her clothes, and the dreadful feeling in her stomach doesn't have that much to do with the wine she had last night.
Robert is sitting in a chair next to the bed, head buried in his hands, but he looks up when he realizes that she's awake.
"What -" he takes a deep breath. "Kitty, what were you thinking?" There's a mark on his neck that wasn't there yesterday, and Kitty knows that she wasn't the one who put it there.
"What was I thinking?" she asks, and her tongue feels like a soaked cotton pad, heavy against her palate. "Don't try to make me Anne Boleyn, Henry. You're the one who's fucking my brother."
He winces at her choice of words, but the self-righteous anger wins out over the guilt. It's always been like that with him. "You make it sound like I'm the only one to blame. It's not as if I forced Kevin."
"Come on", she says impatiently. "This is not Kevin's fault. You know how he is. He just wants people to like him."
Robert chokes out a laughter. "Kevin had sex with me because he wanted me to like him?"
She shrugs. "It worked, didn't it?"
He doesn't say anything, just closes his eyes, and that's answer enough. He likes Kevin, in some weird, twisted, fucked up way, and Kitty wants to laugh, because there was a time when she would have gone to church and lit a candle if it would have made Robert and Kevin get along.
"I don't know if I can go on like that." She isn't even sure who said it, but it might have been her, because he opens his eyes and says: "I don't know if I can either."
Then he gets up and walks out of the room, and Kitty wonders idly if she's going to find suitcases in the hallway later.
Her cell phone is on the nightstand next to the bed, and she calls Kevin's number without thinking twice. She isn't surprised when he doesn't pick up.