Work Text:
all will be well
(even after all the promises you've broken to yourself)
Kudos, my hero, leavin' all the best
You know my hero, the one that's on
There goes my hero
Watch him as he goes
- 'My Hero' by Foo Fighters
It isn’t a beach. Not exactly, anyways. There’s water and a shoreline but they opted for a space on the lake away from the beach proper. The scenery is beautiful and there’s music and drinks — non-alcoholic because the Alberta Gaming and Liquor Act is a thing and no, Wynonna, Nicole won’t use her badge to try to circumvent the law.
It isn’t a beach, not like somewhere in Florida or Mexico or wherever else snowbirds flock to in winter. It isn’t even warm enough to want to try to swim and no, Wynonna, Dolls and Doc won’t skinny dip with you on a dare, even if one of them is part fire-breathing lizard who might not freeze to death in the frigid water.
Even if it is her fortieth birthday.
(She’d found the perfect birthday card with a sketch of a donkey with a party hat on its head. It read, Happy birthday, jackass.
She’ll give it to her back at the homestead once the alcohol starts flowing with the sun well below the horizon and the stars bright overhead. It’s the only way Wynonna will accept any sort of heartfelt words. Even if she has mellowed a bit since she broke the curse and brought Alice home, she’s still a crazy chick with a gun.
Same old Wynonna.
— same old Wynonna, who Nicole loves more than a note scribbled on a birthday card can express.
She's family.)
It isn’t isn’t a beach. Not exactly. But it feels like a beach party because Waverly’s pumping Foo Fighters through a bluetooth speaker and Jeremy is mixing mocktails and Belle is snapping away on the old Minolta film camera that they found at the pawn shop in town. Alice is play-fighting with Doc while Dolls and Wynonna attempt to skip rocks across the water.
It feel as close to the perfection as she’s ever known.
She feels lithe arms wrap around her from the side and she has to take back her previous thought.
Waverly at her side, entangling her left hand with Nicole’s right — this is perfection. This is… everything.
Because she can feel the oak carved wedding band on Waverly’s ring finger, solid and warm in a way that makes her feel infinitesimally fuller. Because Belle is smiling and happy and Waverly is her wife and together they’ve learned how to be a family through all of the ups and downs of the last six years.
A family.
“Nickel for your thoughts?” Waverly asks and her voice is tender and quiet, words meant only for Nicole’s ears.
She sighs. It’s a contented sigh. A satisfied-with-her-life sigh. A how did I get to be so lucky? Sigh.
“We have a daughter, Waverly,” she whispers, and she knows her lips are upturned into a crooked grin. “We have a daughter and she’s so beautiful and strong and smart. Just like my wife.” And Nicole breathes these words like they’re the oxygen that feeds her soul. That they’re her everything.
(Because they are. They are .)
“We have a daughter,” Waverly agrees. “We have a daughter who is so kind and generous and brave. She’s amazing, you know. Just like my wife.”
If Wynonna could hear them, she would snark that it’s her birthday and that she should be getting the attention and the love. But maybe — maybe not because she looks over her shoulder at that moment and she catches Nicole’s thoughtful gaze. And she nods. It’s a barely noticeable hitch of her chin but Nicole sees it. Sees approval but more importantly — perhaps most importantly — she sees her own love and happiness reflected in those clear, blue eyes.
She lifts her chin in return.
The opening to ‘Everlong’ starts up and Waverly laughs and she slips away from Nicole to crank up the volume. Her excitement is infectious and soon she’s got both Jeremy and Belle by the hands, pulling them into a goofy sort of dance.
And then Wynonna is grabbing Alice by the waist, spinning and spinning and spinning until they stumble into Doc’s steadying arms. And Dolls is grinning, wide and toothy and oh so genuine because Jeremy is trying to copy Waverly’s and Belle’s movements and Doc and Wynonna and Alice are still twirling under the glow of the evening autumnal sun.
(The scenery is beautiful. Didn’t she say?)
Nicole smiles softly at Dolls, and there’s a sparkle in his eyes that she’s starting to know well. It’s the spark of that warm feeling in her chest. The one borne of love and security and family.
(That’s the kindle of happiness, she thinks.
This is all she needs.)
Because Dolls offers his hand with an outstretched arm and she takes it without question. Because then they’re dancing, too, and there’s laughter and absolute joy on this beach that isn’t exactly a beach.
They’re a family. They’re her family, as odd and peculiar as their little group may seem to outside observers. Because they fit together like a tapestry, woven together so delicately and beautifully by their shared experiences and the mutual love and loyalty that exists among them all. They’re here and they’re together and isn’t that the most splendid thing?
Because the world isn’t imminently threatened by an ancient evil or resurrected criminals or a gaslighting sociopath in a fur coat that even Lady Gaga might deem too much. Because while the errant big bad of the week may rear its ugly head (or three) once in a blue moon, life in Purgatory is good. It’s so good.
Because Nicole has a wife and a daughter and a family that she chose. A family that chose her, too.
Because they’re no longer engaged in a fight for their lives against monsters both real and intangible but real all the same.
They’ve overcome so much. Together. As a family. (Forward.)
And as Dolls lets go of her hands so that she can pirouette in place, she takes in her found family with their delighted grins and their comfort in the hear in now.
Nicole knows her thoughts are stuck on a sentimental loop, but as she sees her wife and daughter and her family happy and healthy, she’s not sure that she would have it any other way. Because what’s living without love? Without family?
She looks upon the faces of her these people gathered today on the beach that isn’t exactly a beach.
Waverly. Belle. Wynonna. Doc. Alice. Dolls. Jeremy.
And she knows.
She knows that they’ll always her back. Like she will always have theirs.
“This is pretty great, isn’t it?”
And Dolls doesn’t ask her to clarify. He doesn’t have to because he knows what she means. So he smiles wider and nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah it is.”