Chapter Text
Donnie cherishes the simple pleasures in life.
A cold beer. Good meals. The sense of assurance that comes with wearing nice clothes. The feeling of fresh, clean sheets. The charming atmosphere of European cities. The alluring power of intellectual debates. Soft pillow talks after a nightmare. Football and pizza on the couch with Kate. The thrilling pleasure that comes with closing a case on Friday, and then taking the weekend off to unplug your brain and relax, if only for a couple of days. That is, if Daniel Pierce doesn’t roll into your apartment at three in the morning with tousled hair, stormy eyes, and fidgety hands, pleading the cause of one more case, one of those you can’t possibly refuse, because come on, you two, can’t you see how immensely important it is?
Donnie shakes off the thought and puts his focus back to Kate, which is currently busy covering his jaw and neck with kisses. He sees her dark eyes gleaming in the dim light as she comes down to sit in his lap, her body supple and flushed, her skin damp with sweat.
"Do you think we should check again at the campus?", she murmurs, sighing in pleasure as he bites her ear.
Donnie smirks, upset. "There must be something terribly wrong in the way I fulfil my marital duties, if you’re thinking of another man right now."
His voice comes out a bit harsher than he’d intended it to be, but Kate doesn’t bat an eye. "You’re a terrible liar," she teases, kissing his chin. "Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking about just a minute ago? Do you want me to guess?"
"Well…", he starts, running his fingers along her throat, down her bosom, past her navel and between her thighs. "A certain someone would tell you that guessing with no evidence is for idiots and fortune-tellers."
"But I do have evidence, Donnie. I can tell just by looking at your face."
Donnie chuckles too, mostly to cover his wounded pride, and stops his hands.
Daniel has been missing for three days now. His phone is off, Lewicki is not in town, and anxiety is starting to mingle with a strange sense of guilt and frustration. Kate. Donnie. I need your help. They had to refuse the case. Of course they had. There’s this talented sophomore, she was conducting an inquiry on the ties between the Senate and the arms industry, and POOF!, her laptop went missing. Fidgety hands, tousled hair. This is the work of the government, I know there’s no evidence, not yet, but listen, I – We – . A little overexcited, stuttering like a child. Come on, Donnie, don’t look at me like I’m crazy! We all know how Big Brother loves to meddle in our daily lives, don’t we? The look of disappointment washing over his eyes like a storm. Kate? Please? That small, hopeful voice. Then the anger, the resolution, the force of conviction. Very well, then. If you don’t want to help me, I will do it alone. Alone. Storming out of the house, rejecting their calls, disappearing for three days whole, vanishing.
"Donnie?"
Donnie comes back to his senses and shoves his face into Kate’s neck, sighing. "Am I that obvious?"
"I am a special agent with the FBI and your first and second wife", she answers, placing a soft kiss against his temple.
"You have a point."
"Or two."
"Or two," Donnie agrees. "You know, it’s just… It weirds me out, not having him around for so long. It’s too quiet. Too…"
"…peaceful?", Kate prompts.
"I was going to say normal."
The word echoes in the bedroom, loud and heavy, so horribly blunt. So true. The crushing reality of Daniel’s condition lingers between the two of them, as does his very existence. Daniel is real, Daniel is special, and not normal at all. And Daniel is there, even when he isn’t. Behind them. Between them. Together with them. Kate’s lips twitch briefly, but she doesn’t say anything. Donnie’s hand stops at the base of her spine, unsure of what’s to come.
"Kate," he says after a while, as soft as he can, "what the hell happened to us?"
Kate offers a sad, small smile, serving both as a consolation and as an excuse. "Daniel Pierce happened to us."
Donnie can’t answer to that. Chaos. Sorrow. Dread. Longing. No word can bridle this madness, not even in all the languages of the world; even Daniel himself, with all his knowledge and insights, wouldn’t be able to fully grasp it, to put the damn thing into some kind of perspective. Worlds melt and words collapse under the weight of his realization, and Donnie can’t speak, lost for a long moment into his wife’s questioning gaze. His fearless, stubborn, lovely wife - a wife he’s not going to share, no matter what. And yet.
Eventually, just eventually, he whispers: "Let’s try again at the campus, tomorrow."
"Yes."
"Just to make sure he’s okay."
Kate nods, gently pushing her forehead against his. "I have a copy of his keys. Let’s check his place as well."
"All right."
Donnie’s hand moves up, towards her nape. The next kiss comes naturally, deep, slow, born out of a hunger that blurs presence with absence, desire with desperation, love with concern. He lifts her body and brings her to the bed.
"May I?"
She groans softly into his mouth, a wordless sign of approval. He gets lost into her body, gently, relentlessly, surrendering to that mixture of softness, melancholy, and doubt, and lets the feeling lull them both into gentle oblivion.