noteasytobepink | Wheelsy AU ~ Hollywood Nights

Wheelsy AU ~ Hollywood Nights

The airport was crowded an d bustling with tourists, the sunlight outside pooling through the plate glass windows like honey. Starla didn't mind the wait. Security meant she could meet him off the plane, but she could stake out the baggage claim where he was suppose to come out!

She was dressed simply in a blue sundress and sandals, nothing fancy, that was for late tonight at the premier. For now she was just a country girl waiting for a country boy and hoping he hadn't managed to get himself lost in the bowels of the airport.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I just wanted t'make that clear, you're a bit on the violent side sometimes, what with the kung-fu, an' wantin' to hit folks."

He was about to comment on the teleporting when he noticed her bleeding.

"Hey, y'alright?"

"Hey, have I ever actually injured anyone on your watch Bill, or just talked about it as viable options?" Clarice defended with a wince and more dabbing at her nose. "Yeah, fine. Strain. You're a long way away Bill, that's a lot of distance to bridge and hold, even if I"m not dragging people across it." It took energy.

Stamina.

Whatever.

nothing, no power, was ever free.

"Well then let it go," he said, concerned now.

"I don't want you t'hurt yourself or nothin'."

"I'm not hurting myself!' She lifted the tissue so she could stick her tongue out at him. "I'll just sleep hard tonight. The nosebleed is cause I haven't held anything this long in a while. I'm out of shape." For her, the girl who was out running and training at OH GOD o'clock every morning to say that? Well, she must believe it.

"I'll let it drop in a little bit. I like talking to you." And she worried!

"You're bleedin'." Which meant even if she wasn't hurting something was wrong.

"That's why they invented the telephone. Not that I don't like talkin' to you, but I don't want you over doin' it."

"Besides," he added, "you're gonna bleed all over my desk."

A part of her was sorely tempted to take the tissue away and lean forward so she was bleeding properly on the desk...and it probably showed in the speculative look at the poor piece of furniture. "Fine fine fine. Worry wart." She picked up the phone and hit redial...so she could see him pick it up before she closed the portal.

He saw the way she was looking at the desk, and knew what she was probably thinking.

"I always worry 'bout the people I care about."

With an eye roll at the measure she was taking, he picked up his phone.

"You think I wasn't gonna answer?"

"I think you'd have contemplated it." She laughed through the phone and the portal both before letting the hole in reality close with a fizzle. "And your desk is safe. Won't bleed on it, promise."

Or, well...

"Barring paper cuts and medical emergencies that has the whole precinct in chaos." Best to hedge the bleeding promises! "Still...sorry to worry you Bill. I didn't realize I was in that 'cared about enough to fret' category." She...really still saw herself as an unexpected roommate and a growing friend. Not someone to slap 'cares about' on.

"As long as you're doin' all you can t'keep the amount of blood that gets onto my desk to a minimum I'm happy."

He watched the portal wink out, then got up and went back to the bed.

"Well... you're frettin' about me," he pointed out. The least he could do was keep things mutual.

"If I'm bleeding a lot I'll try to keep it to Allen's desk." THAT she could do! Because, really, who'd notice on Allen's desk?

Hmm. Ah. Yeah. Thingy. "I'm used to worrying about people Bill." Thingy? Stuff. "Especially people who don't worry about themselves."

"That works." Bill was happy as long as it wasn't his.

"Well... " he cast about for a reply, then shrugged. "So am I. It's my job, y'know."

It sort of was, and he didn't want things to get awkward here.

"Okay, job I can work with." She agreed cheerfully. No, wasn't getting awkward, she just tended to flail a little when people worried about her because, well, it was her job. "Still sorry to worry you. Hah, it's even stopped bleeding now. Cool." Itty bitty nose bleed, nothing to panic over!

He nodded, even though she couldn't see it.

"Glad we got that sorted." The last thing he needed was to complicate things with the one person who was probably keeping him sane at this point.

"Not bleedin' is a good thing. Let's both try an' keep it that way."

"Where by 'sorted' you mean we flailed at each other a bit and decided to move on!" She laughed into her end of the phone and and tossed her tissue in the bin. "I can work with that definition though. A few more minutes and i may go sort some old file boxes here..." Flaily fun?

"And yes sir, though, admittedly, bleeding did get us to meet in the first place so..."

"Well, yeah. I guess." He chuckled, more than a little familiar with such flaily tactics.

"I guess we did meet that way, but since we're already acquainted I don't think the bleedin" is necessary anymore."

"Your guess also works for me. You've got good guesses!" Tease tease tease? Oh yeah. "That's why you get paid the big bucks to fill out that uniform and I don't!" Cop instinct!

"But what if bleeding is the magic glue that holds our friendship together?!"

"Hm. I can't tell if you're workin' on butterin' me up for when you're a deputy, or if that's some kind of backhanded compliment."

He chuckled, letting her know neither was bad.

"I think we're in some kind of trouble if it is."

"Neither!" She laughed easily and shuffled something on the desk on her end. "I'm buttering you up for souvenirs! I know, novel concept, but they are these things and you just kinda pick up when you travel far away you know? Or chocolate, souvenir chocolate is good I hear!" Pure pantry love Bill!

"And lucky you I think my nosebleed has bought us at least a week of friendship you know? We'll figure out alternatives then!"

"I'll keep an eye out for somethin' good," he promised with another chuckle. "Can't promise any sweets will make it home, but I'll do my best."

Settling back against the pillows, he pulled in a slow breath that exhaled on a yawn.

"A week, huh? Well, if worse comes t'worse I'll start drinkin' again, an' you can fret an' that'll get us some more bonding time."

"I have faith in your ability to delight and amaze me with your gifts, Sheriff!" She laughed again and something else thunked. She'd found old file boxes! She was, actually, going to sort them yes.

"And if you start drinking again, Bill, I will ignore custom and social rules and just knock you down and sit on you. And if you hit your head you'll bleed a little and get us time!"

"What're you doin' over there?" He asked, hearing the noise.

"You're makin' me sound like a drunk. I don't need you knockin' me down, just help me keep upright if I'm walkin' somewhere, an' make sure I don't keel over in someone's flower bed."

That would amount to quality time, right?

"...sorting?" Helpfully sorting? There were a lot of unsorted records from the incident and thereabouts. Seemed like a lot of boxes had just gotten dumped in the precinct when they cleaned out the town hall and such.

Anyway!

"And no, you're not, but it's a crappy crutch for getting through things like this and I like your liver too much to let you screw it until things get better." And yes, she would totally sit on him to prevent ANOTHER bottle of whiskey over this damn woman.

"Yeah? Well good luck with that mess."

Bill got frustrated just looking at all those boxes and paperwork, which is why they were untouched.

"S'now I'm a cripple," he said, voice wry. "I know y'seen me in a bad way a couple times, but it ain't the norm. I was just kiddin' earlier, you really don't got to worry s'much."

His argument would be stronger without the slurring that's crept into his voice, but he's also tired, and a product of laying down is having that tiredness settle.

"Everyone copes somehow, Clarice."

"Yeah, well, it gives me something to do. Besides, I've told the Sheriff what I'm doing so if I get eaten by the papers you can avenge me properly." So there!

Ah, and, no. "No, you're my friend and I fully expect that at points in this relationship you will knock me down and sit on me out of frustration and for my own good. It's a reciprocal thing, not a cripple thing. Unless I miss and break your knee or something. That'd suck." And she'd be VERY sorry. Very.

"Not everyone copes, Bill. Hell, most don't. The human race is an incredibly dysfunctional one and I wonder a lot how we haven't blown each other to bits everyday honestly, but that's me."

"Well, if the paperwork kills you I'd finally have an excuse to burn it all at least." So her death wouldn't be in vain?

He gave a small chuckle to her words, and shook his head.

"An' you say you're not violent. I dunno if I'd sit on you, but I got a perfectly good lock up. An' just wanna remind you my knees are real important for my job. No one wants a gimpy sheriff."

The rest of what she said made him pause and think. He glanced over to the empties on the table, and could still taste the burn of whiskey in his throat.

"We get by," he said, deciding maybe that was a better way to put it. "However we can. If drinkin' myself blind tonight means I get through tomorrow, that ain't so bad, is it?"

It's better than her blown to bits scenario.

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