When you meet Kate at a dinner party, you bond over a mutual hobby.
Pairing: Kate Stewart x F!reader
Content warnings: grief, alcohol and tobacco use, little bit angsty
(Set after the events of The War Between The Land and The Sea.)
I'm obsessed with Kate being a "keen gardener" and always loved the idea of her having an allotment as that was where she could unwind.
This isn't my usual style of fic, maybe a bit more angsty, but I wanted to explore Kate's grief over Christofer in a way that felt authentic to her whilst also including some shameless reader fluff.
Whilst it's implied there's a romantic attraction between Kate and the reader, I wanted to leave the ending somewhat ambiguous - whether this relationship develops or stays platonic, they have each other ❤️
Spring
"Be patient with her," Shirley had whispered before she introduced you to the blonde on the sofa. "she's had a rough year."
Haven't we all? You'd wanted to say, but you bit your tongue.
It had been eight months or so since you'd watched your beloved (if ancient) car get crushed beneath a rusted shipping container that had fallen from the sky. A few weeks later, you'd lost your job. Well, you'd been made redundant on account of the company you worked for having to fork out for so many home insurance claims it couldn't function. It wasn't personal, they told you. But as you stood outside the central London office with a brown box of miscellaneous stationary and three plastic succulents and answered the phone to your girlfriend telling you she was getting on a train to the Cotswolds to "find herself", it really did feel like a cosmic joke.
"It was all that shit falling from the sky, Y/N," she'd said, her voice barely audible over the tannoy announcements and the click of her vape. "Makes you think, you know? That maybe...maybe we're all just shit falling from the sky."
At least you'd paid ahead on the new allotment. When you'd finally managed to clear the remaining plastic debris, it was almost picturesque. At least it would be, if you'd managed to plant anything. So far all the plot contained was a cracked lawn chair, which did a marvellous job of keeping upright as you slumped in it, evening after evening, watching the sun go down over the rooftops, fag in hand, sobbing.
So when your neighbour Shirley invited you over for a dinner party and introduced you by claiming you were a green thumb, you didn't feel particularly prepared.
The woman on the sofa looked up at you with a combination of boredom and disappointment.
"This is who I mentioned earlier, Kate - the one with the little allotment just down the way."
Kate, Kate Lethbridge-Stewart as you soon found out, didn't seem interested in small talk. When Shirley left you two to get acquainted, she cleared her throat to mask a sigh. You sipped your drink. The seconds were painful.
"So...you like allotments?" you ventured, immediately wanting the floor to swallow you up. Kate glanced at you for long enough to give you a pitying look.
"Used to keep one, a few years ago."
You nodded. "Veggies?"
"Yes."
She took a long, shallow sip of wine. Mercifully, more guests arrived.
She only looked at you properly when the first course was finished. Soup. It wasn't the best, but Lawrence had clearly tried and that was what mattered. As you dabbed away a speck of seasonless pureed tomato, she glanced across the chaotic table of claret bottles and plastic foliage and gave you a curt nod.
"Tell me what you grow."
Her voice wasn't quite bored, but you felt like any answer you gave would be a disappointment. You opened your mouth but Shirley piped up from the head of the table.
"Not for ages, Shirl'. I haven't quite got the new plot set up yet."
Kate eyed you over her glass.
"You'll want to crack on if you want to get any decent summer harvests." she said dryly, her expression unreadable. You felt yourself blush deeper.
"Noted."
"Don't waste it." she added.
The table shifted with vague discomfort. You frowned.
"I won't. Thanks for the input."
Kate's eyes narrowed. You drowned the rest of your wine.
Lawrence decided it was the best time to announce the somehow even less seasoned second course.
As you pulled your coat on to leave later that evening, Shirley caught you.
"Sorry about Kate, she's just a bit..."
"Bloody rude?"
"She's...well, like I said, she's had a rough time of it." She ran a hand through her hair with an exasperated sigh. "Really rough."
You softened an inch, glancing back to the sofa where Kate had returned, nursing a mug of tea. She looked smaller somehow.
"Give me a moment." you said thoughtfully, almost to yourself.
***
You didn't think she'd actually turn up. When you turned the corner to your little allotment and saw a blonde stranger in a wax coat tilling soil, you almost had a heart attack. Upon realising it was Kate, your pulse didn't settle.
"This isn't the best location, you know," she said gruffly, wellington booted and brisk. "you'll barely catch the sun when you need it. And those nettles aren't going to be easy to shift."
"Well, good morning to you too."
She didn't humour you, instead handing you a pair of gloves and some shears.
"Cut them back first," she said, nodding at the explosion of nettles on the eastern side of the plot. "we can compost the heads, then dig up the roots."
You grinned, dazed.
"And what are you going to do?"
"I'm thinking lettuces along here, beans over there, tomatoes would be a treat but unless you've got a greenhouse hidden in that backpack, we might have to go without."
"Do I get any say in this?"
"You had your say when you admitted to wasting this entire plot whilst paying for it. Ridiculous."
You scoffed, slipping on your gloves.
"Got any strong opinions on beetroots?" you asked, starting to hack haphazardly at the nettles. Kate frowned.
"Never had a decent borscht anywhere west of Minsk, but they should grow beautifully with enough attention and - oh, be careful."
You hissed, rubbing your nettle-stung wrist. Kate sighed, stepping over with exasperated efficiency and leaning down to pick dock leaves from the tangle of brambles. She held them to your reddened wrist, rubbing until the sting eased.
Up close, she smelled of magnolia and too little sleep. Her hands were strong, freckled. When she released your wrist, you flexed your fingers.
"There," she said softly, discarding the dock leaf. "Back to it."
When you got home, you noticed her fingerprint smudge in dark mud. You didn't wash it off right away.
***
The rain came all at once on a Saturday morning.
Kate was already at the allotment, of course, hand on a shovel, hood up in a vain attempt at keeping dry. Raindrops slid down her nose and pirouetted into the soil.
"Lovely day for it!" you called as you hopped over the fence. She didn't respond.
When you saw she wasn't digging, you paused. Petrichor hung heavily in the air. Her knuckles were white.
You went gingerly to her side and poked her arm. "You alright?"
She sniffed, her free hand immediately rising to wipe away the tears that were cascading, her expression mortified. You blinked.
"Hey...it's fine. Just me."
Your hand hovered above hers as she gripped the shovel before settling on the cool skin, thumb tracing her knuckles.
She shook her head at nothing in particular before sticking her shovel deep into the earth. You tended the seedlings in silence.
Summer
"You never told me how your date went," Kate said with a teasing lilt. "What was her name again? Doreen?"
"Darlene. Who the bloody hell do you know called Doreen in 2026?"
"You're avoiding the question."
"Alright, alright. It was fine. Quiet, actually. We had cocktails, and..."
"Bull and shit." Kate grinned. "You look miserable, tell me what really happened."
She was collecting fat lettuces, scraping off the most offensive looking dirt from the outer leaves. A streak of sunscreen lingered on her neck, just below her earlobe. You smiled faintly.
"I don't know. She was pretty. Works over in Hackney, does competitive paddle boarding on the weekends. Good cook, apparently. Seemed really keen to see my flat."
"Oh, I bet."
"So that's when I panicked, naturally. Told her I was up early for work in the morning. And she reminded me I'm still unemployed."
"She saw through your web of deceit, how shocking."
"I know, right?"
You slumped down in one of the two lawn chairs that now occupied the corner of the plot.
"Have you ever considered...getting out?" you asked idly. Kate laughed, that gravelly, unexpected bark that made your stomach flutter every time you heard it.
"No, I mean..." you grinned. "Meeting people, having fun...enjoying someone's company. How long has it been, since...?" you trailed off as you watched her face fall, stomach dropping. She cleared her throat. You swallowed.
"Fuck, sorry. Not what I meant."
Kate was silent for a while, then she turned to you.
"No, it is what you meant. That's alright. I suppose it's a fair question. It's been a while since I had a date. If I'm being honest, I'll say the thought of it makes me want to fall out of a plane again."
"Oh, come on, don't say...wait, again?"
Kate laughed once more, softer this time. Then she paused.
"I know Shirley told you about him. He was...he...he's missed." she swallowed dryly. "I miss him."
You stayed silent.
"I think I'm just...well, I'll manage." she said finally, her voice edged with glass like it had been the night you met her.
She ripped up a particularly unctuous lettuce, and held it up like a prize.
***
You'd been chewing the runner beans for several minutes before admitting defeat, politely discarding them into a napkin.
"How are they?" Lawrence asked anxiously. "Last time I did beans Shirl' told me they were basically mushy peas, so I didn't cook them for as long this time."
"Or at all." Kate mumbled, her face contorted.
"They're nice, Lawrence, thank you," you said quickly, washing away the taste with more chardonnay.
"What a waste of our bloody beans," Kate hissed after dinner, nudging you enough to make you giggle like a schoolgirl at the back of a classroom. "next time, I'm cooking."
"Don't be mean, Kate."
"I will be mean! The man doesn't even hide the fact he doesn't like me. The beans just felt personal."
You snorted into your wine glass. Shirley smiled at you from across the room.
"So, you and Kate?" she whispered later. You rolled your eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Nothing. Just nice to see you both smiling."
Autumn
The grey skies made you both short tempered. When the caterpillars ate the cabbages, you fought.
"If you'd put netting down like we discussed..."
"You told me you would do it, Kate. You forgot."
It wasn't about the cabbages, of course. The caterpillars could have eaten the ground beneath your feet for all you cared at that moment.
"Do you really think I spend all my time building my schedule around you and this bloody allotment?"
It stung more than it should. You blinked, wrapping your arms around yourself. Kate pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I'm going home," she sighed. "Put down the netting. Maybe you can save the rest of the cabbages."
You spun on your heel as she breezed past you, suddenly livid.
"You're not a commander here, Kate. Just stop it, will you?"
She paused at the gate, then left without another word. She didn't turn up the next day. The caterpillars ate the rest of the cabbages, and you cried as you dug up the roots and threw them to the compost.
When you found her in the allotment a week later picking blackberries from an overhanging hedge, she didn't say anything. But there was a packet of custard creams left on your lawn chair.
***
"There now!" Kate trilled triumphantly, pointing to the middle of a tangle of leaves. "What did I tell you?"
You peered into the green murk, the fading sunlight making you squint. In the middle of the patch was a solitary orange shape.
"One pumpkin?"
"Don't say it like that! Do you know how long it took me to get a pumpkin patch that wasn't completely overrun by slugs? I thought I'd never see the day. Now, be useful and haul it up here for me."
You sighed, giving the pumpkin a firm pull that resulted in a satisfying pop, the stem cracking. Kate knocked on the orange globe, smiling so hard her dimples appeared.
"I think it's my influence that helped her grow," you said with a smirk, eyeing Kate's besotted expression as you patted the pumpkin like a prized show cat. "I've created a nurturing and inspiring environment."
Kate scoffed.
"Come on then, Alan Titchmarsh."
You'd built a small bonfire for Halloween night, the air thick with woodsmoke and unspoken things, the sun dipping below the horizon and painting the allotment with burning strokes.
On your lawn chairs, you drank Kate's favourite whisky from chipped mugs.
"Are you going to carve her?"
Kate looked at you, blinking. "Sorry?"
"Our little pumpkin."
"Absolutely not! She's perfect as she is. I won't deface her."
You laughed, taking a long sip, the warming liquor making you snuggle deeper into your thick jacket. The burning bracken in the firepit spat into the night. Kate looked wistful.
"It's peaceful." she whispered.
As Kate moved her chair closer to yours, your fingertips brushed. Neither of you flinched. By the time you realised you were holding her hand, the fire had burned low and the plot was covered in a blanket of night.
Winter
You watched the robin do a little tap dance across the cracked soil, pausing for a moment before triumphantly pulling a worm from the depths. Kate dipped her biscuit, nibbling the edges with precision. You cleared your throat lightly.
"What are you doing for Christmas?"
It was a harmless enough question, but you saw the way her shoulders squared with brief irritation.
"I'll go to Gordy and Lisa, I suppose," she said, sipping tea.
"Oh, nice."
"Mm. They've given the spare room an en-suite, all grey paint and Baylis and Harding. Very a la mode, I'm sure."
You pulled a face. Kate snorted quietly.
"I shouldn't be such a snob. Lisa tries hard with me, always has. But..."
"But you're hoping something falls from the sky and you're tragically called away?"
Kate smiled thoughtfully. "Perhaps."
You finished your mugs of tea in silence.
Later, as you were clearing bracken from the fences, you felt the words leave your lips before you could rear them back.
"You could always spend Christmas with me, you know."
You heard her pause her work, shearers hovering in mid-air. Seconds stretched before she scoffed with a level of warmth you didn't expect.
"I could, could I?"
Your stomach fluttered.
"Why not? My folks are cruising around Greek islands. My plan was to sit around in my underwear eating Quality Street."
Her eyes travelled down your body when you said that, and for a whisper of a moment you were certain you saw her cheeks flush, the corner of her mouth curled upwards.
"No other plans but that?"
"Well, I'll probably do some crying for good measure."
She smiled, turning back to the bracken. You waited.
"So," you pressed after a while. "How about it?"
"Scantily clad chocolate consumption and minimal responsibilities? Sounds too good to be true."
"And yet, it could all be yours."
She laughed then, that laugh that seemed to carry over everything else. You watched her decant her gardening gloves, her breath evaporating in the still air. She lay her hands across the apples of her cheeks, gasping at the cold.
And then she crossed the plot, standing before you so she could cup your face.
"Look at you," she mused. "like a little cherry."
You blushed, turning your face away in mock-disgust. She looked at you thoughtfully.
"The truth is, Y/N...I might go away for Christmas. Do some thinking."
Your smile faltered.
"Oh."
"I was planning on Dorset. Scotland, maybe. Somewhere quiet."
"Right."
"By myself, you know?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Y/N?"
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat clutching your voice with sticky hands, forcing you to nod silently. Kate scanned your face, her eyes misty.
"I'm glad we met." she said lightly.
Her earnestness hit you square in the chest. You wanted to cling to her and breathe her in, but she slipped her hands back into her coat pockets, and all at once the moment was gone, pooling into the icy sky like smoke from a chimney, unreachable.
***
You got her message on Christmas Eve. Fresh from the shower, hair wet and wrapped in a towel, her name popped up on your phone for the first time in all the months you'd known her.
I'm leaving tonight.
Your stomach twisted, and your fingers hovered above the screen, all at once wanting to call her, to scream, to crack the phone in two. And then it buzzed again.
Just a little update to let you know know the fic is in progress. I’m throwing some tropes in and while there might be a little pining and a tiny bit of hurt it’s only so they can have a happy ending.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it
God, I always take so long to reply, I'm so sorry!!😭
Thank you so much!! I'm so excited for what you've come up, pining and some hurt along the way never hurt anybody – well except them maybe. Oops. But it sounds good!!
If you want a very fun (and queer!) vampire (and also werewolf and frankenstein and mummy and fish monsters) novel check out "Of Monsters And Mainframes"! I just read it for my local vampire book club and it absolutely bangs.
If you could instantly be granted fluency in 5 languages—not taking away your existing language proficiency in any way, solely a gain—what 5 would you choose?
emotional processing is so funny because sometimes you’ll be violently sobbing on your bedroom floor over something that happened 4 years ago and then you’ll just. get up and make coffee. and go to the grocery store. and take all this fundamental sadness for a walk. and ponder the cosmic experiences of humanity while eating a sandwich. and that’s healing.
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