noteasytobepink | Ah, those phonecalls ~ AU Bill/Clarice

Ah, those phonecalls ~ AU Bill/Clarice

It had been a few days since his new patient appeared. Appeared being the operative term since Bill and the girl both had filled him in. On one hand, he was an old man and he didn't like the world getting set on it's ear so much. On the other, well, he'd always believed there was more out there, enjoyed X-files shamelessly when it was airing, and felt that Clarice was an excellent opportunity to observe alternate biology pathways.

Plus she was a cheerful, if bad patient.

It was the second part that had him on the phone to Bill.

Well, Bill's answering machine. "Bill, it's Dr. Mitchell. I nearly have all the proper paperwork done boy, and certainly not too soon. She's one of those type you know? Needs to be doing something. I nearly had to tie her arm to her side to keep her form doing arm exercises. As if she'd lose muscle mass that quickly! And the room, don't get me started on her cleaning, and moving, and sneaking off to read to the kids in pediatrics..." No, don't get him started.

"....who think she's a fairy by the way. I guess this is a roundabout way of asking if you've found anyone with a hunting cabin she can hole up in yet."

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"I think you're the one who's foolin'," Bill replied, just as cheerful now that he'd gotten over the awkward.

The mention of a kiss set him back a step, but he chose not to comment.

"'Course, I'm the sheriff ain't I?" he joked, then assured her, "These things are for everyone t'come 'round an' join in. The more the merrier."

"Not likely, not right now anyway." She was still amused by the idea though. Because really...she totally had to imagine women hitting on him? She had better things to imagine. "Still betting. She does kiss you you owe me an apology!"

And, hmmm, he was in theory but if he brought her she'd be a target for the women and..."Eh, if you think it's best? I"m not exactly conversant with small town dining rules."

"Alright, fine." He could agree to that, sure that nothing of the sort was going to happen.

"Small town dinin' rules?" He laughed, turning the corner. At the end of the hallway was the pharmacy.

"It's a party. Y'eat, drink, an' be merry. Dance if you can, an' if y'can't, just drink more 'til you feel like you're able."

Booze was the great talent giver, singing, dancing; by the end of a good party everyone was a super star.

"I can dance, and sing some. It's a valuable form of entertainment." Because rebels needed to unwind between missions and staying alive or they snapped! And he was so going to end up apologizing to her! He was!

"Should I bring something? Can I use your kitchen? What do you people eat?"

"Well good, y'outta have a good time then."

Heading through the pharmacy door, Bill started looking through the paperwork he still had for the slip Mitchell had given him.

"Sure you can. We uh, we might have t'do some shoppin'. I don't keep things too well stocked."

He was a bachelor. Burgers, pizza, and meals at the local diner and his mom's house were his primary staples.

"What sorts of things d'you eat?"

"Or utterly terrify your friends and neighbors with my alien appearance and strange ways. Either way tons of laughs right?" She grinned at him, a touch wolfishly, and followed him into the pharmacy.

Ahhhh, pill closets. The pharmacist was happy to take the two scripts for antibiotics and painkillers, then waved them at chairs to...wait. Fun.

"Anything, really. Real food if there's the option and a chance to cook it, fast food or snatched food if there isn't. I"m not allergic to anything? And I can make a meat simmer that used to drive Mr. Creed into fits of happiness?"

"Please don't do that." He said it in a way that showed he knew she was kidding, but was also making a real request of it anyways.

Taking a seat, he hoped it wouldn't be long.

"I'm usually too busy," lazy, "t'cook much, but I know all the best places in town. You're welcome t'use the kitchen any time you like, just don't burn the house down, an' check the expiration dates on everything before you start cookin'."

What? He was a bachelor. Hurricane mom rolled through once in awhile to make sure he had real food in the house and not just micro meals and potato chips, but after that was all gone the cupboards went bare and largely ignored.

That was the thing about having mom live so close, and a deputy who's wife's cooking could put Paula Dean to shame. Plus, everyone else who happened to be eating when Bill wandered by.

The sheriff protected the community, and the community fed him. It was a good system.

"Certainly not intentionally," she promised. It was about all she could promise? People reacted oddly to her sometimes, police escort or now. This time probably because of the police escort.

She looked at him then, a level, flat look that meant all of those precautions were simply common sense. "I don't burn down the homes of those I'm guesting at unless dire circumstances force me to." Truth! "And who doesn't check labels?" Really? Really really? It was just common sense.

"What kind of things do you like to eat?" Only fair to ask since she'd be using his kitchen.

He laughed and held up his hand.

He was completely kidding, really. He was certain she wasn't about to go around setting fires. The food thing... he was more of a 'does this taste funny to you?' kind of food tester, but that method usually worked.

"Me? I'm a meat an' potatoes kind of guy."

And she already knew he liked dessert.

"So...you're just easy all around?" Innnnnocent question. Innocent and straight face and a touch too bland.

Bill almost agreed, but caught on before he said anything.

"Are in insinuatin' somethin' there, girl?"

The pharmacy tech called for them, but Bill kept his eye on Clarice as he stood up to head back to the counter.

"That you're hardly a gourmand and I need not worry if my meal preparations will offend?" She was, among other things, quick on the riposte! And since he was watching she made a point of smiling cheerfully and sliding to her feet almost as smoothly as she would uninjured!

Showing off, yes.

Tweaking his tail? Yes.

Listening very intently as the tech explained the prescriptions? Double check.

Bill might find the pain pills hidden away in his sock drawer or something though. She didn't like them, didn't want them, was a little too practical to throw them away entirely.

"Right."

He did his best to hold his disapproving look and smother a smile, but there was plenty of evidence of one around the lines of his mouth, and the corners of his eyes.

He paid attention as the tech went over things, referring him back to Dr. Mitchell again when the question of billing came up.

Now that Clarice had her medication, clothes (what was left of them) and the hospital had her paperwork, Bill heaved a sigh.

"Alright, I think that's it. Y'ready to go?"

As if he had to ask.

Innnnocent smile! Innocent, easy, and most of all brightening at the idea of finally leaving! "Yes, take me away! Far, far away! At least until...Wednesday?" She did a quick count in her head to make sure.

"Less like some fairytale with that addendum huh?"

Finally he let his smile go, and laughed.

"Well we ain't goin' too far, but at least Wednesday is just a check-up, an' not another stay?"

Pulling his keys from his pocket, Bill led the way to the exit and his old truck parked outside.

It was hard to stay annoyed at Clarice? At least she liked to think so? "Provided I do the smart thing and behave instead of pulling stitches or something." If she said it out loud enough she'd remember it? Hopefully?

Old truck. Yep. "Definitely don't know how to drive that. Is it safe?" Back to teasing!

It was hard, and Bill was finding that out.

"I'd appreciate it if you did, because the doc'll be chewin' my head off if you don't."

Opening and holding the door for her, Bill gave her a wry smile.

"That's alright, since the only one who gets t'drive this ol' truck is me."

He wasn't going to dignify the 'safe' comment with a reply.

It was a purely natural defense mechanism! Nature was kind to her!

"And you probably look better un-gnawed." She grinned then reached out to poke what she was pretty sure was rust there on his truck. "Picky truck or just rabidly territorial?"

"I am not rabid," he denied, even as he shooed her hand away from its poking.

"She's a bit touchy, is all."

And he was a bit (read: a lot) protective.

"Oh, wait, hint of fang there..." she teased, obviously contemplating poking again, though eventually deciding against it. "She? Why is it everyone who actually likes vehicles assumes they're girls?"

Waiting to see what she's going to do, he gets into the drivers seat when she leaves the rust alone.

Looking over at her, Bill arched a brow.

"Doesn't she seem like a lady?"

Starting the truck, Bill snorted.

"An' unlike some of those idiots drivin' around out there, my truck doesn't have nuts."

"Looks like a truck, Bill. Plus you have to have nuts, they help hold your truck together." Just because she didn't drive and didn't really care didn't mean she hadn't help strip a vehicle or two for parts later!

"Maybe an old battleaxe?" Yes, she was half expecting ejector seats.

"I meant-- forget it. You obviously don't understand the value of a good machine."

He shook his head like this was a great shame.

"An' there's nothin' this truck needs that she don't already got."

That includes axes and ejector seats.

"I meant it could maybe be a woman if she were considered an old battleaxe." She stuck her tongue out cheerfully and cranked down her window so the breeze could flow in. Mmm, breeze. "Like an aged, and might valkyrie. A Brunhilde of mighty, aging, female wrath." Stories she knew.

"I prefer to be my own machine."

"My truck is not an' old battleaxe."

His truck isn't old. She's... well aged.

"You say it like that an' it makes me think of that fat chick with the horn hat in that Bugs Bunny cartoon."

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