Just Another Day (Kateri)

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

Despite having spent years at Hammel, there were very few times that Ricky went to the staff lounge. There was a coffee pot in his office (broken, again), he brought lunch from home (though apparently his bread had gone green in the few hours he was here and infected everything else), and his chair was comfortable enough for reading and doing work (yet seemed to have gotten stuck on too high a setting so he was ramming his knees all day). Normally, things weren't that bad, but there was this report due soon for the school's federal tax grants, and...

...Well, when the universe wanted you out of your office, who was he to argue?

So, packing up his papers and a puzzle book just in case, the Irishman left the admin hall and walked the short way to the lounge, tripping only once over his own feet as he did. And he didn't even spill anything. Huh.

So for the last hour or so, the relatively short man hung out in the room with a cup of coffee and his papers. His tie was a little loose, and he leaned back into the chair on two legs, balancing with his foot on the coffee table. It wasn't the safest position for him to be sitting in, but the blonde didn't really notice. He was too intent on looking over his work and making sure that all his numbers were correct to be paying attention to things like balance.

Or apparently other people walking into the room.

[Kateri Rivera]

Well, they were back. And Kateri missed her daughter. And sleep. And caffeine.

Meg was onto solids now, but Kateri wasn't off the hook yet, and so was still banned from certain substances. Her mother had given her a stern lecture on this while she was visiting, so she was doing her best to abide by it, but between returning to a work schedule and managing a baby, she was tired and craved coffee. And a drink. But mostly coffee.

Therefore, it was a slightly sleepy redhead who entered the staff room in search of sugar or an apple, because she'd heard they could offer a sufficient energy boost to get through the day. She wasn't normally clumsy, but she was distracted enough and out of sorts enough to enter without paying attention, causing her to trip on the coffee table leg and stumble.

"Ah, shi--" she stopped. There had been someone with his feet on the table taking notes, hadn't there? Her mind kicked back into gear just in time to see the inhabitant tumble backwards, papers flying everywhere. She swore again, even more colorfully, and lurched forward to peer down at the unfortunate man.

"I'm so, so, so sorry. Are you hurt?"

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

The only thing that at all warned the blonde man about the incoming incident was a flash of cloth and a sharp thud. Of course, being as distracted as he was, there was no chance he'd react fast enough. The coffee table bumped under his foot, sloshing the coffee in his cup (but not spilling!) as he jerked backwards in an attempt to correct the fact that he was falling forward. Apparently, it was an overcorrection, and with a flail that scattered papers everywhere... well, down he went.

Hitting the ground on his back with a clattering thud knocked the wind out of him, and Ricky could only stare up at the ceiling in a daze for a moment before a pretty face framed with red hair suddenly appeared in his vision. He blinked, not entirely comprehending the question for a minute before pointing up. "Watch your head."

Of course, the minute she looked up, the pen he'd been holding dropped out of its newly found place in the ceiling and landed square in his face, bouncing off and landing point-first on one of the documents he'd been looking over. It made a nice neat dot, and when the fallen man reached back to scoop up the stack and look it over, it turned out that he had missed a decimal there. Huh, look at that.

Gathering his wits back up, he beamed at the pretty young woman and replied (finally), "Don't worry about it - this stuff happens all the time and hasn't killed me yet. Are you okay?"

She looked like she hadn't been sleeping well, but it still didn't detract from just how... well, cute she looked. Ricky hadn't found a grown woman yet who could pull off 'cute' and 'womanly' at the same time, but this sleepy, cursing redhead did it. And well, too. Holding out his hand straight up since he was still on his back, the older of the two grinned again. "Patrick O'Cassidy," he introduced himself, "though everyone calls me Ricky. Sorry if I didn't catch your name - I was little addled there for a minute."

[Kateri Rivera]

It was almost something out of a comedic movie. He went flying backward, the coffee didn’t spill, and the papers went flying out of his hand and onto the floor in a flurry. Kateri blinked, made a mental note to make a joke out of it later, then blinked at him again at his statement. “Wha--?” She looked up, and the pen fell down and onto the paper. She sat back on her heels and stared down at the papers, bemused, then turned her attention to the man who was currently beaming at her. Despite the fact that she was tired and a bit frazzled, she grinned back at him. “Am I okay? You’re the one lying on the floor and you’re asking me that? I like you.”

He definitely had flair. Her brows climbed at the hand offer, and then she took it for a firm shake. “Should I be standing up to complete the picture?” she joked. “I didn’t offer it. I just knocked you over. You were supposed to magically read my mind and figure out my name while flying through the air. I’m Kateri Rivera. I get called all kinds of things. Nice to meet you, Ricky.” She winked at him. “I like your style.” And she did. It took a brave man to take that kind of a fall with flair. “Can I help you up? And help you gather your…” She leaned over him. “Accounting?” She straightened. “You studied maths too? Thank Jesus. I thought we were alone in the world. Or at least at Hammel. I teach it myself. I really am so sorry,” she added, contrite now instead of interested, although a faint smile still lingered on her lips. “But…you really are very good at falling.”

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

Well, of course he was going to ask if she was okay! Poor woman hit the table pretty hard, and though he couldn't see from where he was if she'd hurt herself badly or not, there was probably still going to be a hefty bruise on that leg in a couple hours. Still, he laughed a little. "Yeah, I suppose that's a bit strange isn't it? But like I said, if it hasn't killed me yet, it's not that bad."

And holy cow, she had spunk! Laughing more at her teasing, Ricky shook her hand firmly. "Sadly, don't have that power," he answered with a grin. "But it's a pleasure, Kateri."

Yup, definitely cute.

"If ya don't mind, I'd be glad to take you up on that." Of course, if she was going to lean over him like that, staying right here might be nice. Buuuut no. His mother raised him to be a better gentleman than that. At least, most of the time. In public. Still, he averted his gaze to tilt his head up and gather more of the fallen spreadsheets. "Yeah - the tax season's coming up again and I need to finish these papers before I can file for the grants."

Looking back to the redhead, he lifted his head slightly to get a better look at her. She may have been tiny, but... nope, definitely not a student. "It's not your fault," he assured with a shrug. "I'm a klutz, always have been since I was kid. Literally anything can happen when I'm around." According to the old headmaster, it was like having an uncontrolled probability manipulator right next door to him. Whoops. The comment about falling made him grin a little bit differently, and though it passed through his head the older adult refrained from making a joke about always falling hard and fast.

Naaah, that wouldn't be polite.

"So, you're a math teacher! What levels do you teach, Mrs. Rivera?" A pretty woman like this with brains and wit? Had to be taken.

[Kateri Rivera]

Yes, there was going to be a bruise. She could feel the pain of it now, as she had her legs pressed to the floor. That would hurt when she’d get up, though. Right now, she was still kneeling by the man, and so didn’t have to worry about it.

“Hasn’t killed you yet?” Kateri’s face had always been expressive, and right now admiration seemed to be warring with disbelief and concern. “Are you trying to say that things like this happens to you all the time? A girl could get into trouble hanging next to you, Patrick O’Cassidy. Which is a lovely old Irish name, by the way. I applaud you for it. Pleasure’s all mine. I’m glad you’re not seriously injured.”

And he had a sense of humor too. And a nice smile. Probably even swung for the right team, but Kateri had a daughter at home, he was older than her, and there were a myriad of other reasons to behave herself.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t flirt just a little bit. She hadn’t had much luck with that lately.

“Oh, you’re a serious accountant, then.” Kateri leaned over him again to pick up some of the papers and flipped through them absently. “Well done. Seems all correct.” She grinned at him and passed the papers back to him. He didn’t seem very inclined to get up, she noticed. “Is it comfortable down there?” she inquired, peering down at him as she began picking up the rest of the papers. “Or are you going to get up and help?”

She paused briefly at his comment and eyed him. “That much of a klutz? Your parents must’ve loved those medical bills. I teach through precalc, as it happens. I now have some bright boy from MIT to take over the higher levels. And it’s Ms, thank you. Were you a Hammel attendee yourself? With, let me guess, probability manipulation?”

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

"Blame me mother an' grandmother," Ricky replied, throwing out a classic Irish accent like his grandfather with a mischievous grin. "All of us are named like that. All ten of us." Though it was the truth, his smile pointed out the humor in it, too. Yeah, big old Irish family with lots of Irish names. And they were Catholic, too - well, lapsed, but they all got baptized and went to church on Sunday. Close enough, apparently.

Yeah, he was definitely in the slot of potentially robbing the cradle here. But hey, what was the harm in a little flirting? It'd been a long while since he'd had anything serious anyway. 'Cept his numbers - those were always serious business.

Bowing his head with a gracious flick of his hand, the prone man kept the grin even after the stamp of approval. "It's comfortable enough if I get to keep talking with you," he replied. "Not every day I fall at the knees of a pretty young woman, so I may as well enjoy it while I'm down here. Buuut if you insist."

Rolling out of the knocked over chair, Ricky picked himself up to his knees, only idly brushing dust from the front of his suit. It'd just get back there anyway, most likely, and he had a clean set in his office. No harm there. Setting about gathering up the papers, he gave Kateri a wicked little smirk. "What hospital? My mother was of the opinion that unless something was broken, everything was fine at home. Only ever went thrice myself."

"Precalc is fun. Always liked it better than trig. Statistics was my best area, though." As for the MIT guy, he'd tried. Really, he had. But there's only so many times that a computer can eat a document before a nineteen year old gets irate about it.

The 'Ms.' caught him though, and he looked up as if shocked. "Now how is it that a pretty lady as bright and charming as you wasn't snatched up right out of college?" he asked, leaning forward in interest. Okay, maybe not so subtle flirting now, but come on. Even at his age, he knew a catch when he found one. If someone else wasn't going to make her smile, why couldn't he? (Well, aside from the coworker thing, but there were members of the staff that were married to each other.)

"Nope. Actually, I'm one-hundred percent baseline. I just have the weirdest luck." Laughing at that was always easy, since it came with some of the BEST stories. "Almost got brought here anyway, though, when I was kid - a recruiter saw me in the paper and thought the exact same thing."

[Kateri Rivera]

“Oh, is that so?” Since he seemed in the habit of imitating it, Kateri thickened her own brogue and cast him a cheeky grin. “Aye, always blame the women. They’re easy targets and don’t fight back unless they’ve had a few pints.” Her family had been smaller and, true, not entirely Irish. Hence the Rivera. But they’d been thoroughly Catholic—so much so that Kateri, despite only attending three Masses a year at most, had gotten Meg baptized because otherwise both her parents would’ve thrown a fit.

She might’ve blushed a bit at his comment—it wasn’t often that she got called pretty and young. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Fall at the hands of the young woman, you mean. Although you should’ve learned when you were a boy not to balance in a chair like that. Nothing good ever comes of it, I promise you that.”

He wasn’t too ridiculously taller than her, she noticed with a fair amount of pleasure. It was nice to have a man her height for once. She rolled her eyes at the smirk. “Mother must’ve had nerves of steel, that one. Let me guess—lots of brothers. I can tell the type. And doesn’t thrice means three times of broken bones? I considered myself adventurous, but I only ever broke an arm.”

Back to math now. She nodded her agreement. “I like statistics. It’s a bit wordy, and I prefer calculus overall, but statistics is practical. I want to teach a course on it. Perhaps I can, now that I’ve got some help.”

She didn’t notice the shocked look until he leaned in. Was he—wow. Played for the right team and was interested. Married? Probably. But she’d play along good-naturedly anyways. No harm with a bit of flirting. She leaned in a bit and arched her eyebrows. “Think of the trouble you’d get into if your lady wife caught you saying that,” she said. “And maybe I did. Men have trouble hanging onto me, you see.” She winked again, then went back to the work. “Oh really? Ever ran a probability chart on yourself? That’d be interesting.” She sat on her heels to shuffle through the papers, put them in order, then passed them to him. “Tell me if the order looks right.”

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

Turnabout was fair play, it seemed. "Ye've never met me mum, then," he teased back. "Woman knocked me da' flat when she 'twernt toasted. Bet you'd be like to do the same."

She was practical, too, and not above preening at a bit of praise. That little bit was nice; just goes to show it was well-received, without being too much. "Try telling any boy something's not good for him, and see where that gets you," the blonde replied dryly. "No matter how old, boys will always be boys."

Most women always seemed to think that Ricky was a bit on the short side, and he supposed that was true. 5'9 wasn't very tall, especially not with people like the school psychiatrist walking around. But to be honest, he liked being around women that were about as tall as he was or just a little shorter. And hey, with most women in the US being 5'8 or shorter, he had a pretty good crack at it.

"Stitched us all up when we hurt ourselves," he agreed, brushing a bit more dust from his suit as he spotted it on a sleeve. "And for your information, I have six sisters, all of 'em I swear taking every last curl they could from the Isles. The hospital visits were a broken arm and a broken foot, plus when I got hit by a bus on my way to school one day." He pointed out the scar on his chin under the slight stubble and added, "Got this, a visit from this school, and that was it."

And maybe a whooping for not checking that the way was clear before stepping into the street.

Ricky grinned again. "Sure. I'd love to help out anytime. Always liked kids and speaking in front of a group."

Married? Him? The Irishman gave a hefty laugh and shook his head. "Maybe if I'd ever gotten married myself I could be worried," he poked back. "But people go their separate ways sometimes. Maybe that's the good side of the bad break, you think? Catching the ones who step up after the 'one' got away."

He shook his head in amusement at the idea, confirming no as he took the extra sheets and shuffled through them. Most were right, and he added in the pages he'd gathered up. "Looks about so. Think I'm still missing a page or two, but those should be around in some hard to reach place somewhere..." Looking around for a minute, he gestured to the couch and asked, "Mind checking under there for me while I look under the refrigerator? You'd be surprised where this stuff ends up."

[Kateri Rivera]

Oh, but he could do the accent well. She laughed. “Watch it, O’Cassidy. Keep talking like that and you’ll have a swarm of Irish mothers on your hands, trying to claim you for their good Irish Catholic girls. And I’d say that I wouldn’t knock a person flat, but as you wound up on the ground, I guess you’ve already made your case, now haven’t you?”

And yes, she could preen a little. Now that he was upright, he was good looking, she noticed. In a kind of rough way—funny for an accountant.

No, behave. Little girl at home. Horrible luck with men. And there were a myriad of other reasons. Better to stay out of trouble this once. But he was fun to tease, and she appreciated a man who could take a joke.

She wasn’t THAT close to his height, though. Barely over 5 feet meant she still had to look up at him, but at this level they were on more of equal footing. So to speak. Still, it was better than Sean or Vincent, when she felt like she needed a chair to even be able to talk to them.

She stopped gathering papers to stare at him with wide eyes at his next statement, momentarily forgetting the teasing attitude. “Six sisters?” she repeated. “Six curly-haired Irish girls? Lord, no wonder your mother was unflappable. That must’ve been quite the woman. Girls can be worse than boys, I guess. I was worse than my brother. Let’s see.” She leaned in to look at the scar, then leaned back. “Not bad. Let me guess—the bus was totaled?”

“Ooh, you’re a saint.” She said it fervently and meant every word. Help? In her class? “Watch it. I’ll set Sam Rixon on you. When I asked the question ‘where is x’ he circled it on the test.” She sighed. “I’m a sap for not failing the boy.”

He wasn’t married. Kateri stared at him, then realized that was kind of obvious. But still. He was single, heterosexual—or at least bisexual—good looking and good at math. And she hadn’t met him before. Clearly, she thought, the lack of caffeine and drinking had finally caught up with her. She was hallucinating.

“I always thought so,” she said absently. “Not married. Huh.” She shrugged and went back to the papers. She passed him the others, then grinned. “Are you sure you aren’t doing it for a look? You could’ve just asked. But all right.” She leaned over to look under and emerged with one sheet triumphantly. “Here we are. Now for the fridge?”

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

"Many mothers have tried," Ricky laughed. "All of them either met my brothers or cousins, though. So, here I am, getting knocked down by a witty redhead rather than a pint."

Even if she was much shorter than him, it still felt nice to never be that guy at a party. The one that towered over everyone and no girl had a chance of being taller than. True, it was a little awkward when a pair of high heels could make your date three inches taller than you (that was a fun prom), but it was nice to be able to look someone in the eye when you were sitting down to dinner with them. And sitting, well, he'd only be a couple inches taller...

"Six girls and four boys," he confirmed with a playful shrug. "Had quite the time marrying them all off, but she managed it. Well, except Moira, but she's always butted heads with Mom." And him, of course, though not through lack of trying on either of their parts. But once again, an overabundance of Irish brothers and cousins, and one failed engagement that broke off as abruptly as the romance started. More's the pity, he supposed, but it'd been so long that it didn't hurt at all. It just was.

"Ha!" The laugh was short and he waved her off with a rueful smile. "'Course not. Though to hear my older brother tell it, that lightpost never saw me coming and still has a dent."

The smile softened into something kinder and Ricky patted the redhead's back briefly. "Not a sap; a woman with a sense of humor and a desire to see her kids succeed."

Sorry Kateri; you're not hallucinating. The only reason why you'd probably never met this man before is schedule overlap. His day started at nine and ended at six - long after the school day began and ended. Most of the time, he was stuck in his office going over documents again until the cleaning crew swept in, and more than once had he and Legrande gone out for drinks at the end of the janitor's shift on Fridays. Honestly, he was just as surprised to have never met this bright and cheery young woman outside of perhaps seeing her through the window of a classroom. Who said a school could be small if two people went years without meeting each other?

Still, the blonde smiled at the absent reply, shook his head in amusement at the more brazen assumption (though that would have been quite the look if he did say so) and settled down to peer under the refrigerator with the tiny LED light off his keyring. Sure enough, there was a sheet there, near the back. But with that crack so small, he'd never get it back without either pulling the refrigerator out (bad idea) or finding something to catch hold of the paper and drag it forward. "Yep, it's down here," he answered. Don't suppose there's a yardstick or something lying around in here, is there?"

[Kateri Rivera]

“Ah, that trick. I know that one well.” She’d mostly managed to avoid that kind of situation by getting married right out of high school and then never moving back, but periodically her mother would call to set up a meeting with some poor Irish boy who’d just moved to the states and needed some showing around. Kateri would be polite, flirt a little, perhaps have dinner, and then set him on his merry way with a bunch of merry American women who just loved an Irish accent.

It usually worked.

“Ten children?” Kateri’s brows climbed higher, and she shuddered. “I just have the one and am grateful for it. Her name’s Meg. She’s five months now.” She had her usually goofy smile of when she talked about her daughter, although it was tinged with a fair amount of exhaustion. She loved Meg. Really she did. But just being the one parent, even with Dean to help, did get tiring. Meg wasn’t really in the sleeping stage right now—she found everything too interesting.

She laughed. “It probably does have a dent! You don’t appear to do things by half, Mr. O’Cassidy. I’m amazed it survived.”

It softened into another smile at his statement, without a blush this time, then she lightly nudged her shoulder with his own. “Watch out. Keep up that kind of talk and I’m likely to kidnap you so you can compliment me all the time. Those kinds of comments can go to a woman’s head.”

It would’ve made sense. Kateri’s schedule, like all teacher’s, involved a lot of grading. But she tended to skip out of school and do it at home—at first, for roommates, friends and nights out on the town, but now to be with her daughter.

As for assumptions, all of Kateri’s had to be brazen. It was just a fact of who she was.

“Umm.” She set the paper down on the table, climbed to her feet—swore again as the knee twanged its pain to make sure she’d noticed—then hobbled over to a supply cabinet and rummaged through it. “I have a ruler. And a meter stick. For, you know, the people who do things properly and not by some old English royal’s anatomy.”

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

"Well, ten across about twenty-five years. I think even my mother would have strangled some of us if she had to deal with more than three infants at once." And that was true enough - sometimes he wondered how they all made it out alive. His mother was a frightening woman.

Still, hearing that Kateri had a daughter, even one so young, was surprising. Especially since she wasn't married. Not detracting in any way (Ricky'd always been of the 'family man' mindset), but surprising nonetheless. "That explains why you look so tired," he answered with a soft smile. "Meg is a lovely name. Is it short for anything? Megan, Megara, something like that?"

Grinning at the nudge, the blonde man nudged back, green eyes bright even with the lines that surrounded them. "Not sure it'd be a kidnapping if I went willing," he flirted back, bumping her shoulder again lightly in return. "Unless, of course, you locked me in a basement or something. You don't have a basement, do you? Or a broiler room or anything like that?"

It was a joke, even if it was ridiculous.

"Spoken like a true mathematician!" Laughing a little, Ricky looked back to the rummaging woman and watched for just a moment before asking, "The meterstick, then, if I may. Let's see if I can't fish this thing out without getting it torn up or eaten by the wiring."

[Kateri Rivera]

“Still, if you do the math, that’s almost one infant per two years. Two year olds are terrible. Adorable, of course, but there’s a reason they call it the terrible twos.” Kateri shuddered. She’d always thought that two was the perfect amount—replacement rate and preventing one from getting spoiled. Perfect in that sense. Ten was just—frightening.

She made a face and waved a hand. “I can’t complain. It’s good that she’s so interested in everything. I just have to hope that one day she’ll gain an interest in the joys of sleep like I do.” She shook her head. “It’s not short for anything, no. Just Meg.” Being born as Catherina (or Catherine, depending on which parent was calling her, and yes, she’d changed her name later) meant that Kateri had grown a fondness for short names. But Megan wasn’t so bad.

Her own blue eyes brightened, and she grinned at him. “Willing, are you?” She had to nudge him back, of course. “No, no basement or boiler room. Just a simple two room apartment. I’d feed you, of course. I’m not completely heartless.”

“Considering what you were saying and your history with these things, perhaps you should leave the fishing to me.” She fetched the meterstick and knelt down next to him, carefully prodding it under the fridge to try to scrape out the paper. “Aren’t taxes due in April?”

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

He had to laugh at that. After all, it was such an old adage that it was practically solid truth. "Yeah, I'd never want more than three, myself," he answered, shaking his head. "Missed out on most of my chance for that, though."

He shrugged slightly with that. It didn't really bother him in the least; his brothers and sisters gave him more than enough little nieces and nephews to spoil come the holidays. Not to mention the cousins. No, there were definitely a lot of children in his life - Ricky couldn't regret what he never had anyway either. Right?

"Ahh, the joys of sleep." A comically wistful look passed over the accountant's face. "Some days, I really enjoy when my alarm clock fails on me. Then again, sleeping in usually means I forgot that I was supposed to do something." Not that that was uncommon, either, but what could you do when the universe seemed like it was out to get you?

"Meg it is, then." 'Patrick' had been such a common name in his neighborhood, the name 'Ricky' had been graced on the blonde out of sheer desperation. After all, you didn't want six different little boys running home because one mother decided to call him back from his friends. Sending out brothers and sisters rarely helped either, considering that they were more likely to join in on the fun... and then everyone would get in trouble for missing curfew.

With a breathy sigh that was clearly exaggerated relief, Ricky wiped his brow free of imaginary sweat. "Oh good. Because you know, women like you are always too good to be true in movies. I mean, a little starving is fine now and again, but those broiler rooms'll kill ya." He grinned brightly, enjoying the jest - there was a pretty famous actor nowadays who was a few years older than him and looked a bit like him that seemed to die in most of the major productions he was in. Made going back to family reunions after he was thirty really entertaining, since he was always greeted by his younger brother with 'You're still alive!'

Granted, he may have deserved that on his own accord, too.

Gesturing to the refrigerator, the scruffy head dipped graciously. "I humbly request your assistance, then, mi'lady Rivera," he teased. Sitting back with his legs crossed, he added, "Usually, yeah - federal grants and such have to be filed early, especially for schools and businesses. Also, I tend to file things in triplicate at least, lest something gets eaten by a machine at the IRS."

It'd only happened once, and having been prepared for it the school was fine. But still, with luck like his, Ricky took no chances on his work. Too many people relied on his forms being filed promptly for accidents to happen.