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maygraCowboys
by Maygra
Magnificent 7, ATF, PG13
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traveller wanted " Vin, right before calling Chris at the start of "Call Me."
1,130 words
+++++
Sometimes Vin wondered if his occasional lapses of common sense didn't trigger bad luck or if it was the other way around.
No sense at all to get so riled as to think he could take on four guys of his own size, no matter what they said. More sense to have paid for his beer and walked away. Or driven away, which he coulda been doing if he wasn't so drunk off his ass even he knew getting behind the wheel was asking for a whole other level of bad luck.
Not that he minded walking. Didn't mind walking through most of Denver in the middle of the night.
But the rain, now the damned rain was just a little too much. Might coulda dealt with a drizzle, with a fine mist…wake him up a bit. But the chill of it set aches deeper than was comfortable. Still, he coulda walked in that. Sobered him up, got the taste of blood and beer out of his mouth, well, once he'd spit enough to clear the taste of it.
But crossing the street, watching the lights, and then hardly able to see them because somewhere some rain gods reservoir decided to dump water enough for to overtax a good-sized floodgate was just too much.
The inset doorway of Barton's Jewelry store offered him some cover, but his body was aching and that annoying hitch in his hip was getting worse for being restricted by wet denim and more bruises than he really wanted to think about.
He gave half a thought to just settling down in the doorway and going to sleep, but some part of his brain nagged at him that an ATF agent getting picked up for vagrancy if not public drunkeness weren't any better than getting pulled over for a DUI. Neither one of them would impress Chris Larabee overly much.
And Vin didn't think too much or too often about impressing Larabee, but he sure as hell had given a lot of thought lately to not disappointing the man, damn his green eyes.
He had a couple of minutes of trying to figure out a way to blame this on Chris, because damn if hadn't been Chris on his mind that had set the whole bar-brawl, homophobic- asshole- giving- him-shit-for-nothing-more-than-a-look off in the first place.
Trouble was, he spent way more time thinking about Chris Larabee than he had any right to or made any sense to. Needed to cut that shit out right soon, because it wasn't gonna bring him anything but grief -- tonight had only been the latest in a series of signs, some kinda sign from somebody, if Vin believed in that shit at all.
The rain didn't let up, and Vin stared at it, the way it sheeted off the storefront awning, slicked the streets up like glass.
If he had the sense God gave grasshoppers he'd call a cab. He had change in his pocket, enough cash to cover the ride. There was a pay phone across the street in between the bank and the tax place.
He got soaked again just jogging across the street, trying to hunch his shoulders up when the cold rain snuck under his jacket collar.
Phone book was missing, and that was just another bit of bad luck like the rain. Information wasn't helpful at all, because he couldn't remember the name of single cab company in Denver…and apparently yellow cab only described the cars, not the actual name.
Couldn't remember any other numbers either. Buck lived around here someplace, but Vin wasn't so familiar with this side of the city that he could find him without wandering the streets. Least he knew how to get home from here. Buck and JD'd put him up. Josiah or Nathan too. Wasn't entirely sure about Ezra, but probably, after a lecture but possible with a glass of that very, very good whiskey Ezra kept on hand.
Thing was…thing was…he didn't have any of their numbers, hadn't brought his cell -- still not used to carrying that all the time and Chris was likely to bust his ass for that too, when he found out.
There was, however, a hotel down the street, if he had enough cash to cover a room. Thumbing through his wallet and having to start over twice on the counting because now he was drunk and cold and sore and ass-kicked tired on top of it all.
He found Chris's card on the third try at counting his cash, pulling it out and staring. Forgotten it was in there at all. Chris had given it to him months ago, on that joint effort down south when Vin was still with the US Marshals. Given it to him and written his cell phone on the back.
Chris would be pissed off. Chris was probably asleep like every other person with any sense at this time of night. Chris lived way the fuck outside of Denver.
Chris had reminded him more than once that they were friends as much as colleagues. That there was only one maverick allowed in their little unit and it wasn't Vin.
Chris had run interference when the Marshals were being a pain in the ass and told Vin not to worry about it. "You got problems, Vin, you call me," he'd said over the last spat of inter-departmental, inter-agency bullshit that had come up.
Well, this wasn't that…but…well, maybe Chris wouldn't so much mind calling him a cab, or calling one of the other guys closer in to come get him.
First time he dialed, he fucked it up, transposing numbers. Second time he went slower, dialing carefully, trying to protect the little card so the rain wouldn't make the ink run. Got Chris' voice mail, and thought maybe that lack of common sense and this run of bad luck were just meant to be.
He got halfway down the block before he realized he was heading in the wrong direction. Headed back and caught the edge of a song through the cracked window of a passing car… Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys….
He stared at the phone for a good long time before picking up the receiver again.
… And them that don't know him won't like him
And them that do sometimes won't know how to take him
He ain't wrong he's just different
but his pride won't let him do things to make you think he's right*
~end~
12/22/2007
Willie Nelson (with Waylon Jennings)~ Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys ~ Album: Essential Willie Nelson
by Maygra
Magnificent 7, ATF, PG13
traveller wanted " Vin, right before calling Chris at the start of "Call Me."1,130 words
+++++
Sometimes Vin wondered if his occasional lapses of common sense didn't trigger bad luck or if it was the other way around.
No sense at all to get so riled as to think he could take on four guys of his own size, no matter what they said. More sense to have paid for his beer and walked away. Or driven away, which he coulda been doing if he wasn't so drunk off his ass even he knew getting behind the wheel was asking for a whole other level of bad luck.
Not that he minded walking. Didn't mind walking through most of Denver in the middle of the night.
But the rain, now the damned rain was just a little too much. Might coulda dealt with a drizzle, with a fine mist…wake him up a bit. But the chill of it set aches deeper than was comfortable. Still, he coulda walked in that. Sobered him up, got the taste of blood and beer out of his mouth, well, once he'd spit enough to clear the taste of it.
But crossing the street, watching the lights, and then hardly able to see them because somewhere some rain gods reservoir decided to dump water enough for to overtax a good-sized floodgate was just too much.
The inset doorway of Barton's Jewelry store offered him some cover, but his body was aching and that annoying hitch in his hip was getting worse for being restricted by wet denim and more bruises than he really wanted to think about.
He gave half a thought to just settling down in the doorway and going to sleep, but some part of his brain nagged at him that an ATF agent getting picked up for vagrancy if not public drunkeness weren't any better than getting pulled over for a DUI. Neither one of them would impress Chris Larabee overly much.
And Vin didn't think too much or too often about impressing Larabee, but he sure as hell had given a lot of thought lately to not disappointing the man, damn his green eyes.
He had a couple of minutes of trying to figure out a way to blame this on Chris, because damn if hadn't been Chris on his mind that had set the whole bar-brawl, homophobic- asshole- giving- him-shit-for-nothing-more-than-a-look off in the first place.
Trouble was, he spent way more time thinking about Chris Larabee than he had any right to or made any sense to. Needed to cut that shit out right soon, because it wasn't gonna bring him anything but grief -- tonight had only been the latest in a series of signs, some kinda sign from somebody, if Vin believed in that shit at all.
The rain didn't let up, and Vin stared at it, the way it sheeted off the storefront awning, slicked the streets up like glass.
If he had the sense God gave grasshoppers he'd call a cab. He had change in his pocket, enough cash to cover the ride. There was a pay phone across the street in between the bank and the tax place.
He got soaked again just jogging across the street, trying to hunch his shoulders up when the cold rain snuck under his jacket collar.
Phone book was missing, and that was just another bit of bad luck like the rain. Information wasn't helpful at all, because he couldn't remember the name of single cab company in Denver…and apparently yellow cab only described the cars, not the actual name.
Couldn't remember any other numbers either. Buck lived around here someplace, but Vin wasn't so familiar with this side of the city that he could find him without wandering the streets. Least he knew how to get home from here. Buck and JD'd put him up. Josiah or Nathan too. Wasn't entirely sure about Ezra, but probably, after a lecture but possible with a glass of that very, very good whiskey Ezra kept on hand.
Thing was…thing was…he didn't have any of their numbers, hadn't brought his cell -- still not used to carrying that all the time and Chris was likely to bust his ass for that too, when he found out.
There was, however, a hotel down the street, if he had enough cash to cover a room. Thumbing through his wallet and having to start over twice on the counting because now he was drunk and cold and sore and ass-kicked tired on top of it all.
He found Chris's card on the third try at counting his cash, pulling it out and staring. Forgotten it was in there at all. Chris had given it to him months ago, on that joint effort down south when Vin was still with the US Marshals. Given it to him and written his cell phone on the back.
Chris would be pissed off. Chris was probably asleep like every other person with any sense at this time of night. Chris lived way the fuck outside of Denver.
Chris had reminded him more than once that they were friends as much as colleagues. That there was only one maverick allowed in their little unit and it wasn't Vin.
Chris had run interference when the Marshals were being a pain in the ass and told Vin not to worry about it. "You got problems, Vin, you call me," he'd said over the last spat of inter-departmental, inter-agency bullshit that had come up.
Well, this wasn't that…but…well, maybe Chris wouldn't so much mind calling him a cab, or calling one of the other guys closer in to come get him.
First time he dialed, he fucked it up, transposing numbers. Second time he went slower, dialing carefully, trying to protect the little card so the rain wouldn't make the ink run. Got Chris' voice mail, and thought maybe that lack of common sense and this run of bad luck were just meant to be.
He got halfway down the block before he realized he was heading in the wrong direction. Headed back and caught the edge of a song through the cracked window of a passing car… Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys….
He stared at the phone for a good long time before picking up the receiver again.
… And them that don't know him won't like him
And them that do sometimes won't know how to take him
He ain't wrong he's just different
but his pride won't let him do things to make you think he's right*
~end~
12/22/2007
Willie Nelson (with Waylon Jennings)~ Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys ~ Album: Essential Willie Nelson
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Date: 2007-12-22 05:32 pm (UTC)wastingspending every possible moment rereading your stuff, isn't it?note that I'm complaining, but still reading!
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Date: 2007-12-25 04:29 pm (UTC)-bs
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Date: 2008-06-16 12:55 am (UTC)Ditto what Sue (sfulton229) said!
Date: 2008-10-01 08:29 pm (UTC)Thanks for sharing!
TrackerGirl