Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Don’t put me in your fucking boxes
I don’t fit in storage bins
My heart isn’t under lock and key
Only set for your roles to free
I’ll tell you what, one day, love wins.

“You chose to move to Purgatory?” Wynonna’s semi-permanent frown seemed to deepen even more as a blush spread across the back of Nicole’s neck. “Why in God’s name would you do that?”

“I didn’t choose it,” Nicole grumbled. “My mom did.” Her hands wrung nervously at her waist, fingers twining together and pulling until her joints relented. It was a nervous habit, one she knew she would have to kill eventually to save herself from inevitable arthritis in her later years. “I’m not staying here. As soon as I save up enough money I’m getting out.”

Wynonna, to Nicole’s surprise, laughed. Her legs stretched out in the back of the truck bed as she leaned against the window. “Dude, you don’t leave Purgatory. You think I’m here by choice? One way or another, this fucker pulls you back in. It’s like a curse.”

“So it’s the curse that lead you to fail senior year and have to retake it?”

“I’ve known you for three hours and you’re already starting to annoy me. Watch it.” She emulated Wynonna and allowed herself to stretch her legs, a solid three inches longer than her counterpart’s. “Jesus, you’re lanky.”

“Varsity basketball three years in a row,” Nicole replied. “And damn good at it, too. I’ve already been recruited for Purgatory’s team.”

“Huh.” A yawn slipped between Wynonna’s lips as she reclined even further into the bed of the truck. “My sister’s a cheerleader and they’re pretty inclusive in terms of who they cheer for. Maybe you’ll see her around.”

“One Earp is bad enough,” Nicole replied, only to receive a punch in the shoulder.

“How dare you! Waverly Earp is the best Earp. You fell in with the wrong one. There’s Willa, too, but you probably won’t be seeing too much of her. Older and, frankly, a huge bitch.” Her eyes drifted shut. “I don’t even know your last name; you’re not allowed to start insulting mine.”

Oh, Jesus. “It’s Haught.”

“Welcome to Purgatory in August, genius.”

Nicole took a heavy breath. “No, my last name. H-a-u-g-h-t. Haught.” Here it comes.

Wynonna’s eyes flew open and a shit-eating grin lit up her face like lights on a christmas tree. “Oh, no way. I am gonna milk that bitch like a snake—” A ringing in her pocket caused her to stop and grimace as she answered. “Hey, Waves. Of course I’m in class right now. I can’t talk. Okay. Okay.” Her voice dropped to a grumble as she shot Nicole a side-eyed glare. “Love you too.”

“If I’d known you were in class right now I would’ve stopped talking and listened to the teacher,” Nicole mocked when the phone was safely stored in her pocket again, earning a shove from Wynonna that sent her onto her left elbow. The truck seemed to rattle a bit with the impact.

“Can it, Haught-stuff. If my sister finds out I’ve been skipping again a week into the new school year she’s going to have an aneurysm and I can not be responsible for that. The kid’s under enough stress as is. Varsity cheerleading, top of her class, blah blah blah.” Wynonna shook her head. “Anyway. You should come over for a few drinks tonight before school tomorrow. I could invite some kids over to get to know you so you aren’t as lost as you were today. I’m warning you though, there are only two hot boys and I’ve already slept with both of them.”

Nicole grimaced at the thought. “I’m wearing Doc Martens and a flannel and you’re going to tell me about hot boys? Like, straight up, I’m not.” Wynonna frowned, much to Nicole’s dismay. “Jesus, don’t tell me you have a problem with that or I’m going to have to sleep with your sister just to spite you. It’s gay code.”

“Oh, would you relax? I’m frowning because it’s a possibility. You’re in the same boat as her, Haught-stuff. Also.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you fucking dare. That is not an open invitation. She might be into chicks but that doesn’t mean she’s into you.”

Nicole laughed and held up her hands in surrender. “So. What does the infamous Wynonna Earp do for fun in Purgatory?” Her eyes scanned the empty bottle of whiskey that had been abandoned at the foot of the truck. “Besides drink.”

“That about covers it.” Wynonna’s foot kicked an old blanket over the bottle as if to repair the damage. “There’s a mechanical bull at Shorty’s that we sometimes use but it’s more or less a piece of shit that breaks down more often than this truck. Sometimes I shoot beer bottles in my backyard with my great-great-granddaddy’s old gun. It’s a piece of shit and doesn’t shoot straight, but I mean hey, neither do you.” Nicole frowned. “Annoying Waverly is always a good way to pass the time.”

“Exciting stuff,” Nicole agreed dully. Senior year was shaping up to be a mess of monotonous nights filled with even more monotonous days; she’d hoped her mother’s insistence on moving to Purgatory would be a way for her to turn her life around and actually find some meaning, not bury her further into she hole she’d dug herself in Ontario.

“I hopped in and out of juvie for a few years in my youth—that was always a kick.” At Nicole’s concerned look, she waved her hand nonchalantly. “I was an adorable little psycho who swore I saw demons and caused some trouble because of it. Nothing too drastic. Besides, I’m back now and I’m on my third year of winning ‘Purgatory’s Least Favorite Social Pariah,’ so I can always stick that on my resume next to a Bachelor’s I’ll never have.” There was a small lilt to her voice that anyone sans Nicole would’ve looked past—a melancholic sort of undertone that had to mean more than nonchalant indifference she tried to hard to masquerade.

“Looks like you’ve got it all planned out,” Nicole replied evenly. “And anyway, I can’t come over tonight. First practice of the season and all that. Fairly positive Lucado would have my head if I missed it.”

“Oh, she’s a bitch,” Wynonna warned. “I had her freshman year and she almost failed me. In gym, of all classes.”

“Well, did you actually show up?”

Wynonna’s eyes narrowed. “Choose your next words very carefully, Haught.” Her phone rang again and her eyes went wide at the caller ID. Nicole glimpsed the word ‘Waverly,’ followed by a series of emojis she couldn’t decode a meaning for. “Shit,” she hissed. “I gotta go—I’ll see you tomorrow?” Her boots hit the ground for only a second before she was throwing herself into the truck.

Nicole tried to keep her face from falling as she hopped over the side and leaned her chin on her elbows, propped up on the window. “Sure, yeah, of course. Thanks for hanging out with me today.”

“Please. You made it easy. And hey.” Wynonna’s voice was surprisingly sincere. “If any jackasses at this school try to give you shit for playing for the other team, let me know. My great-great-granddaddy’s gun doesn’t shoot straight, but I’ll shove it up their asses if I have to. Lord knows I’ve had to do it enough for Waverly.” And then the window was up and the truck was peeling away into the horizon, leaving Nicole in the school parking lot with an empty feeling where her heart should have been.

“Son of a bitch!” Nicole shrieked, her foot slamming down onto the brakes. The figure in front of her darted off to the side and held up their hands before hopping onto the sidewalk. “Hey!” She rolled down the window and stuck her head out, trying to make out the individual with only a dusky moonlight above as a guide. “What the hell!”

“Turn your lights on!” The figure replied angrily, hands flailing in the moonlight for emphasis.

“Walk on the damn sidewalk!” She replied. Her own cheeks flushed red—her lights had been off, and to reconcile she flashed her brights and forced the stranger to cover her eyes for a moment, blinded. It gave Nicole a quick moment to take in the figure, all lean angles and wavy chocolate hair pulled back into a messy bun.

A cheerleader. Awesome. Her second night in Purgatory and she’d already almost committed vehicular manslaughter. What a way to go.

“Not like that!” The figure yelled. “Just—watch where you’re going next time!”

“Walk on the damn sidewalk and we wouldn’t be having this issue,” Nicole retorted.

“Learn how to use your goddamn lights and I would’ve seen you coming!” The girl replied. Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, god, you’re one of those damn basketball players.”

“And?”

“Nevermind. Just keep your lights on when you drive in the dark.” Then she turned and whisked off, hands tucked against her chest.

The second day didn’t go much better—evidently, falling in with Wynonna had been social suicide as far as most of the school was concerned, and while she usually enjoyed the lack of attention aimed her way, this almost seemed robotic. Like she’d been inflicted with—what had Wynonna said?—a curse of Earp-ic proportions.

“Dude, don’t worry about them.” Wynonna’s hand wrapped protectively around Nicole’s elbow as she steered her into the math hallway. “The stares linger for a while but they always find a new target. Trust me.”

“When did they leave you?”

Wynonna laughed, a genuine one that Nicole felt herself breaking into a grin over. “I’m the only exception. The crazy girl who—” Her voice faded out for a moment as her eyebrows scrunched together. “The crazy girl who conjured up demons in her free time comes back to highschool after three years in juvie, people are gonna stare.”

“Wynonna?” Nicole tried to soften her voice well enough that only her counterpart could hear it, but it was a fatal flaw. Wynonna’s face immediately went blank at her tone, shut down.

“Yeah?” Her voice was flat and cold, withering up at Nicole’s feet as soon as it slipped through Wynonna’s lips.

“What did you do to get into juvie?”

“Something,” Wynonna replied tersely, and that was the end of the conversation as the grip on her elbow tightened. “And, you know, I never got to ask. What does Nicole Haught do for fun in Purgatory? Besides wear Doc Martens and flirt with the only cute girl she knows.”

“Please. I’m way out of your league.” Nicole frowned. “I play gui—”

“Wynonna!” A shrill voice carried over the mass of kids in the hallway. Hazel eyes settled over Nicole for a minute before widening in surprise then turning back to Wynonna. “I see you’ve made a…friend.”

“I know.” Wynonna puffed out her chest. “My third one in three years. I’m on a roll, babygirl.” She knocked playfully against the girl’s shoulder. “Oh! Haught, this is Waverly. Waverly, Haughtstuff.”

Nicole felt like she’d taken a punch to the gut as recognition set in.

A big, gay punch to the gut.

Waverly was gorgeous, and, coincidentally, the girl she’d nearly flattened the night before.

“It’s Nicole, actually. Wynonna’s told me so much about you.” Waverly’s eyebrows raised as she turned to look at Wynonna. “Only good things,” Nicole hurried. There was another shout of Wynonna’s name down the hallway, who disappeared almost instantly. The grip on her elbow left, only to be replaced by Waverly, who steered her away for a moment. “Okay?”

“Look,” Waverly hissed. “I recognize you. You almost hit me with your damn car last night because you didn’t have your lights on.”

“You were walking in the middle of the road in the dark!”

“That’s—my point. We were both dumbasses. We need to not tell Wynonna about this whole unsavory scenario, or she’ll have both of our heads.” She glanced around for a moment to check that Wynonna was still busy with someone who had pulled her away for a moment. “Got it?”

“Look, I’m the last person trying to get rid of my only friend,” Nicole replied, and something in Waverly’s eyes softened.

“Just—try not to hit anyone else with your car, okay?” She squeezed Nicole’s elbow reassuringly and winked, and then seconds later had disappeared into the crowd as the bell signaling the end of passing period rang, and Wynonna was pulling her into calculus.

“If you were just hitting on my baby sister, I’m going to have to decapitate you,” she said evenly.

“Only with my truck,” Nicole murmured.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

“So.” Wynonna cleared her throat. “You’re good with numbers and all this calculus shit, right?”

“Fairly.” It was more than a lie—Nicole was excellent with numbers and she knew it.

“Yeah, well, this may come as a shock, but I’m not, and I really need a tutor, like, a week ago.” Her eyes were pleading, and it took hardly a second of thought before Nicole was nodding evenly.

“Sure, I can tutor you. Tonight works?”

Wynonna winked.

Chapter Text

Should you find your wits alive
Still in tact from when you were five
They’ll say you’ve just matured for your age
What they won’t say is why
Think like the machine you are
Think like a machine

The doorbell sounded entirely too loud for the vast expanse of quietness that pervaded the Homestead. Nicole had honestly assumed she was lost for the majority of the drive over, nothing but a series of open land and trees as her guide. Even Google Maps couldn’t tell her where she was, having to only rely on the shoddy instructions Wynonna had given her. (When you pass the ‘Welcome to Purgatory' sign, you’ll see this weird little path off to the left. Don’t take it. A crackhead dealer lives down there. Take the one after it.)

As it turned out, there had been several little paths on either direction and it was anyone’s guess which one lead to the crackhead dealer and which one lead to Wynonna. Half an hour down a single dirt road and she considered bailing until a giant sign denoting, ‘Earp’ slithered into view and she about cried with relief.

And then the doorbell itself was it’s own challenge, entirely too loud for the comforting silence, before Wynonna swung open the door and Nicole immediately started apologies for being so late—

Only it wasn’t Wynonna who opened the door, but Waverly, eyes wide and lips pressed together in amusement. “You really seem to have problems with that car, don’t you, Nicole Haught? First you nearly kill me, and then you can’t find my house…”

“Walk on the sidewalk!” Nicole snapped, not unkindly. Waverly grinned. “Are you gonna let me in or what? And I thought we agreed to never talk about that again.”

Unperturbed, Waverly leaned against the doorframe and regarded Nicole. “We agreed not to talk about it in front of Wynonna. But she’s not here right now.”

Nicole froze. “What?”

“She left, like, an hour ago with Dolls.”

“Who?”

Waverly rubbed her forehead with her hand. “I keep forgetting you’re new. It’s like…” She shook her head. “Dolls? Tall, handsome, ass for days? Looks like he belongs on some elite military squad.”

“Maybe?” Nicole shook her head as well. “But I came here to tutor Wynonna.” A quick glance at her watch revealed the time. “I should’ve been here fifteen minutes ago.”

Waverly shrugged—was that a blush creeping over the back of her neck? “Well, she’s not here, so try not to flatten anyone on your way home—”

“Waverly?” A voice sounded from inside, slight with a country accent only a select few in Purgatory seemed to have adopted. (The only other one she’d met with it was John ‘Doc’ Henry, the history teacher who always seemed to know slightly too much about the 1850s, as though he’d lived there himself). “Who’s at the door?”

Waverly instantly flushed bright red. “No one, Gus!” She replied, then flinched at the word choice. “I mean, definitely someone. My…my friend Nicole from school.”

The sound of footsteps approached and then the door swung wide, revealing an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair and smile lines around her eyes. “Well invite her in, damn it! You’re letting out the AC.”

And with that, a hand grasped Nicole’s shoulder and ushered her inside. “Oh, no—we’re not—I’m not—” She glanced over at Waverly for help, whose eyes went wide before settling over.

“From here!” Waverly finished. She’d embraced an awkward sort of grin that Nicole, to her horror, found endearing. “Yeah, she’s from…”

“Ontario,” Nicole supplied quickly at Gus’s encouraging grin. “I just moved here two days ago. It’s a...change of pace.”

Gus’s laughter was barking. “You can say that again, darlin.’” She looked kindly between the two before pushing Waverly gently with her shoulder. “Well now, any friend of Waverly is a friend of ours. Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

“Gus, that’s really not necessary—” Waverly started, only to be waved off as Gus trailed away into the kitchen.

“Friends?” Nicole mouthed. Waverly’s eyes went wide and she shook her head in the universal I have no idea motion.

“Can you promise not to hit me with you car?”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Nicole frowned and leaned up against the wall.

“Not likely, no.” Her hand snaked out to meet Nicole’s halfway, who struggled not to think about how generally nice Waverly’s hands were; cool and soft to the touch. A shiver ran down her spine.

Waverly was beautiful like Wynonna, but in an entirely different definition—Wynonna was hard, like artwork carved from steel, whereas Waverly was glass, able to shatter at a moment’s notice with the wrong touch.

Who’s been touching you, Waverly?

The thought was so unprecedented that it physically rocked Nicole backwards onto her heels, head colliding with the wall she’d (thankfully) leaned herself up against. The hand grasping her own gave her a tug back to reality. “Are you okay?”

Nicole shook her head, as if the mere motion was clearing the thought from her mind like an etch-a-sketch. “Yeah, I just didn’t sleep great last night.”

“Is it because you almost hit me with your car—”

“Let it go!”

“Let what go?”

“Jesus!” The shriek poured in unison from both Nicole and Waverly as they spun to face the doorway where Wynonna had appeared, curly hair windswept over one shoulder and a leather jacket pulled around her frame despite the heat. She kicked the door behind her in one swift motion and hefted a sloppy grin only alcohol could produce.

Waverly frowned. “You’re drunk.” The word following was underlying, entirely too loud for a lack if actually saying it. Again.

“Only to forget, babygirl.” She gave a half-assed wink and a solid punch to Nicole’s arm. It seemed to be the first movement she’d made to acknowledge her presence, and her eyes went wide in doing so. “Shit! Tutoring!”

Nicole laughed and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. How about we get you some water?”

“I’ve got it.” Waverly’s voice went surprisingly cold, a complete 180 from the warmth she’d exuded moments previous. Her hand wrapped protectively around the inside of Wynonna’s elbow and steered her away, leaving Nicole to stand in the entryway and wonder exactly what is was Wynonna drank to forget.

 “Sorry about Wynonna.” Waverly’s flinch was so subtle Nicole wasn’t sure she actually saw it. “She isn’t—she isn’t usually like that. Sometimes stuff happens though.”

Nicole shook her head and laughed gently, as if anything stronger might scare Waverly off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. We’ve all got our demons to drown. Besides, you weren’t terrible company to have at dinner. And your parents seem nice.”

Waverly’s ears went red. “Gus and Curtis aren’t my parents. They’re my aunt and uncle.”

“Oh, are your parents out of town?” The moment Waverly’s eyes darkened, Nicole knew she had overstepped, but there was little she could do to backpedal. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, that’s really none of my business.” She could feel herself sinking deeper and deeper into the couch with each passing word, begging her mind to stop; there seemed to be a coordination error between the words in her thoughts and the words spewing from her lips.

To her surprise, Waverly’s hand waved nonchalantly. “No, they’re not out of town. It’s a story for another time. But Gus are Curtis are good to me—they reacted really well when I came out—better than my sister did, anyway.”

“Really? Wynonna always seems so protective of you.”

“I’m not talking about Wynonna.”

Nicole’s brain racked as a memory surfaced. “Uh…Willa, right? Wynonna mentioned her.”

Waverly scoffed. “Willa, yeah. She was less than enthusiastic about me coming out. Just another mistake, I guess.” Her eyes went wide. “Whoa, forget I said that.” She laughed nervously and shook her head. “I am completely unloading on you right now. You should probably be getting home. I’m really sorry about Wynonna, again.”

“Really. It’s not a problem. Tell her I’ll come over tomorrow to tutor her. And tell her not to be drunk, this time.”

Waverly laugh seemed forced. “I’ll try my best.” She unlocked the door and leaned against the doorframe, motioning out to Nicole’s truck, only a faint outline in the moonlight. Holy shit—she’d been here for a few hours. “Remember to keep your lights on tonight.”

“Oh, you’re such an ass.” Nicole couldn’t help the smile that kissed faintly at her lips—something about Waverly’s own grin was contagious and she found herself falling prey to it as well.

“You know, you got my coming out story, you owe me yours.” Waverly’s grin was slightly playful.

“I defer—I got a fraction of your coming out story. You owe me the rest of yours and you can consider hearing about mine.”

“Hmm. I’m holding you to that.” Waverly glanced her up and down for a moment before running her fingers through her hair. Nicole could swear a blush crept over her cheeks. “Goodnight, Haught.”

“Goodnight, Earp.”

The door closed on Waverly’s smile, and Nicole felt something lurch in her stomach as she disappeared.

 “You’re telling me to think like a machine,” Wynonna groaned. “That’s unfair.”

“This is simple addition, Wynonna. We’re not even doing the problem yet.” Tutoring Wynonna was going exactly like Nicole expected it to be; terribly. It wasn’t that Wynonna was stupid—far from it—it was that she had absolutely no motivation to learn. (I already know all this shit from last year, the only reason I didn’t pass was because Willa’s dumbass boyfriend wouldn’t let me.)

That, seemingly, was a story for another time as well.

Wynonna’s frown deepened. “There’s no way you aren’t tired of this by now, Haughtstuff. We should take a break.”

A sigh slipped through Nicole’s lips before she could help herself. “Fine. One break and then we’re going to finish the problem.” She reclined back onto the chair and let her legs stretch out in front of her. Three hours from now would find her on the court with teammates whose names she couldn’t bother to remember yet, but for a few, blissful moments, she could pretend.

Wynonna was easy company—almost frustratingly so, like anything she said was the best thing to say in the situation, and it made Nicole feel comfortable, like she’d known her the vast majority of her life.

Wynonna, of course, despised just about anything athletic, so there was little chance she would accompany Nicole to the court. And thus, she could pretend that life resumed the way it had back in Ontario, boring and placid but safe , with Wynonna. Whatever had gotten her into juvie that was so taboo couldn’t have been that bad, Nicole decided, if this was the kind of person it produced.

Sure, she had a rocky exterior, but it was thin, and the individual underneath was sweet when she wanted to be and generally seemed to have the right words for every situation.

And then there was Waverly. Nicole had found herself replaying the scenario from last night in her head on repeat, with Waverly’s smile taking the front row each time.

“You’re monologuing.” Wynonna’s voice cut through Nicole’s thoughts like glass. She was eyeing her precariously, as if she could see right through her. “Like in movies when the main character has a voice over with sappy music and shit that no one else hears. You’re monologuing.”

“I’m not monologuing,” Nicole muttered. She tipped the chair forward onto all four legs and crossed her ankles beneath her. Think like a machine, Wynonna had said. How uncharacteristically poetic.

 “Damn this piece of shit,” Wynonna hissed, foot connecting heavily with the bumper of her truck. It rattled angrily but managed to stay in place. “Stupid piece of shit!”

“Wynonna,” Waverly chastised. She folded her arms against her chest and leaned against the hood. It released a plume of steam in an angry huff and fell silent again. “C’mon. Kicking it isn’t going to fix anything. It’ll probably make it worse.”

Wynonna shot her a glare and pressed the heel of her boot against the bumper. “I don’t know why you aren’t more upset, babygirl. This truck is going to be yours one day, but only if it makes it through the school year.”

Waverly’s shrug was frustratingly nonchalant. “So we’ll get it fixed up. It’ll be fine.”

Wynonna, however, wasn’t paying attention, a phone already pressed to her ear. She rested against the hood of the car and let Waverly rest her head on her shoulder. “Nicole, hey,” Wynonna said, and Waverly felt something instantly lurch in her chest at the thought of seeing Nicole, an estranged shift she hadn’t been aware existed. “How much do you know about trucks?”

Chapter Text

Bad luck doesn’t happen to me
Only good luck that seems to go wrong
For how bad could it be?
When you’re here next to me
And I’m here writing this song

Nicole had arrived within minutes, truck in tow and sporting a small grin as she threw it into park and hopped out. “The infamous Wynonna Earp needs some help from me, huh? Not so badass now.”

“Can it, Haught. Usually I’d ride my Harley to school but this little inconvenience—” She jabbed her thumb at Waverly, who held up her hands in surrender and frowned. “—needs a ride too.”

“You’re so charitable,” Nicole drawled. She shot a wink at Waverly, who blushed and looked towards the ground.

“Just—can you fix it in the next thirty minutes? I’m fine with ditching but this kid is all AP bullshit.” At Waverly’s alarmed looked, head whipping back up, Wynonna backpedaled. “Kidding! I never ditch because that would be ridiculous.” Her eyes flashed dangerously toward Nicole. Message received.

As if in answer to an unasked question, another plume of steam blew from the hood. Nicole’s head cocked sideways. “If we can tow it in to my uncle’s shop later, I’m sure we can get it looked at. For now I vote I just drive you guys to school. This isn’t really a jump-and-run kinda job if that is any indication.” Her hand gestured wildly at the lingering plume of steam hanging above the truck.

“You have an uncle in Purgatory?”

Nicole’s shrug seemed forced as she turned away. “Yeah. Haught-O-Mobiles? Dumbest name ever, if you ask me.” Recognition flared across Waverly’s face as she stifled a grin. “He was part of the reason my mom chose Purgatory over anywhere else, to be closer to him. Ever since my dad…” She trailed off and shook her head. “Anyway.” Her smile happened to flash at Waverly, who blushed and tucked her chin against her shoulder. The word ‘endearing’ flashed to mind again for some reason, and Nicole found herself crinkling her nose in Waverly’s direction—was she flirting with Waverly?

It was Purgatory. It was something new. And it was her senior year of high school, damn it. She was allowed to have a little fun if she wanted to, right?

A glance towards Wynonna, who seemed to have observed the whole ordeal and narrowed her eyebrows at Nicole, said no.

Nicole shot what she hoped was a nonchalant wink Wynonna’s way and pulled herself into the driver’s seat of the car. “Get in.”

Seven minutes later found Nicole pulling into the parking lot of Purgatory High. The drive had been stilted and quiet for the most part—oddly enough, Wynonna had kept her mouth shut, which seemed to be uncharacteristic (yet greatly appreciated—Nicole had a strict “no in-depth conversations before nine a.m.” policy, and Wynonna seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t adhere to that). Waverly, however, seemed content to sit in silence in the backseat of the car, hands tucked under her legs.

She’d seemed inattentive throughout the ride, eyes lazily shifting from window to window as she took in the scenery for what Nicole imagined to be the zillionth time. Wynonna had mentioned something about Waverly living in Purgatory her whole life despite her own juvenile reclusiveness that shifted her around provinces. The thought seemed a touch unreal to Nicole, who hadn’t gotten the chance to bury her roots for more than a few years before they were on the move again.

She glanced into the rearview mirror to look at Waverly and blushed heavily when Waverly was already glancing at her back. Her hands encircled the straps of her backpack and pulled them over her shoulder as she shot Nicole a smile through the mirror. Evidently cheerleading made her jacked, slim biceps well defined as she hoisted the strap over her shoulder. It took a moment of staring to realize she’d said anything at all. “Thanks for the ride.”

“What? Oh—yeah, sure, not a problem.” Nicole’s grin was shaky as she tried to match Waverly’s. Her boots hit the pavement with a dull thud and the resounding slam of the car door resonated like a shotgun. “You know, I was thinking. What with your car being broken down and all that. I could drive you to and from cheer tonight? I have basketball at the same time and it really wouldn't be a problem.”

The door to the school swung open in front of them and a dark-skinned boy appeared, shooting a grin at Wynonna and extending his arm in an chivalrous overstatement. She rolled her eyes and took it anyway, placing her hand over his bicep. His eyes traced over to Nicole, a heavy brown that was somehow one of the softest she’d ever seen. “Dolls,” he said, extending his free hand. “Xavier Dolls. You must be new.”

Dolls. The memory of Waverly poking her head around the Homestead door came back. Tall and handsome for sure, and the elite military squad hadn’t been a bad gander as well based on his muscles (which Wynonna had taken to wrapping herself around insistently). “Nicole Haught. Yeah, I moved here a week ago.”

His eyebrows disappeared into his closely-shaven hairline. “A week ago and you’re already friends with an Earp, huh? That’s gotta be bad luck.”

“Hey now!” Wynonna smacked his arm. “What is it with everyone trashing my last name? Don’t even think about getting any later.” With a huff she pulled Dolls away and into the mass of kids filing into classrooms.

Waverly made a face Nicole assumed was identical to if she had just swallowed a lemon as she watched her leave. She also assumed she’d forgotten everything about the previous offer and bit her tongue. If it hadn’t stuck with Waverly then she wasn’t interested, and that, while it stung (as much as she hated to admit it), was fine. Surprisingly, however, Waverly’s fingers brushed gently against the inside of Nicole’s arm as she smiled up at her. The height difference, a solid four inches, was enough to knot Nicole’s stomach. “You know, I think that’s a really good idea. You driving me to practice.”

Nicole froze. “It is?” She hadn’t actually expected to get that far into the conversation about driving without a comment about—

“Yeah, I mean, it’ll be a lot harder to hit me with your truck if I’m, you know, sitting inside of it.”

Damn it.

She shot Nicole a wink and slid her fingers from the inside of her elbow; Nicole managed to convince herself that the smattering of goosebumps that erupted across her arms was due to a pre-winter chill she knew hadn’t arrived to Purgatory yet. “If you keep bringing that up, Wynonna’s going to hear it eventually and I’m pretty sure she’ll be willing to forgive you before she forgives me.”

Waverly’s grin morphed in a small smirk Nicole found her eyes immediately drawn too. “I don’t think so; she’s done some pretty stupid shit that I could use against her anyway, we just had to wait a few days for it to blow over.” She went to turn when instanct had Nicole reaching out her hand to grab Waverly’s arm before she could.

“Waverly? How did you know I had a coming out story? Back at the Homestead.” The words happened to slip out before she could stop them, yet somehow, they felt normal with Waverly. As if they had been lying underneath her tongue since that night and had finally woken up.

Waverly grinned, winked, and turned into the nearest classroom, leaving Nicole to stand alone in the hallway as the bell signaling first period rang.

 Nicole insisted on driving them back after school, and despite Wynonna’s complaints and assurance that Dolls would be happy to drive instead, managed to wrangle the two into her jeep before pulling out of the parking lot.

The Homestead was a solid half hour away from the school, yet the ride was comfortable, no longer filled with the silence she had presumed would follow based on the morning’s expedition. Waverly and Wynonna exchanged playful banter Nicole figured came from sibling rivalry alone—she had one sister who was six years older, Hayley, and she had seen her little since their parents’ divorce. She tried to be as involved with Nicole as possible, but living halfway across the country tended to put a damper on it.

“Hey.” Waverly’s voice was quiet as the car pulled up to the house and Wynonna flung herself from the truck, muttering something about a date with Jack Daniels. “I usually go to the library before practice to get some homework done, if you wanted to join.” Her face went red. “I’m not saying that because I need a ride, I’m just offering.”

“Oh, I actually have some shit to do at my house. And my gym bag is still there and all that. But thanks.” Before she could stop herself, the words had slipped out against their own will. “But you’re welcome to come join me until we have to leave if you want.”

Waverly instantly brightened, to her surprise. “Yeah, I’d love that, actually.”

That hadn’t been the answer she was expecting, however she wasn’t sure at this point why she hadn’t been expecting it—Waverly seemed happy to hang out with Nicole as long as she got to throw in a smattering of, “almost murdering me with your car,” jokes here and there. And Wynonna seemed more or less either oblivious or nonchalant to the whole ordeal—why not?

She let her face crack into a grin. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

 Nicole’s fingers pulled a beautiful melody from the guitar, leaving Waverly with what she assumed was an awestruck glee based on the face she was making. Her jaw was slightly agape, eyes wide as they tracked the movement of Nicole’s fingers, brisk against the strings. “I didn’t know you could play guitar,” she murmured gently when the last note had finally resided and Nicole’s blush had returned. She leaned back against the couch and surveyed the living room, blatantly refusing to meet Waverly’s eyes. Her room was a jumbled mess of half-unpacked boxes and crooked posters hardly managing to cling to the walls, and Waverly Earp was the last person whom she wanted to see that.

For a few, blissful moments, she’d been able to lose herself in the song, but after it was over and she plummeted back to reality, the idea of having played guitar for Waverly Earp left her practically speechless and glowing red. Waverly, however, seemed like she could have listened for another century without growing bored. “It’s more of a hobby than anything else.” Her voice seemed too loud for the silence that had settled over their shoulder, unperturbed by Waverly’s previous statement.

“That didn’t sound like a hobby,” Waverly breathed. “That sounded like…really good guitar playing.”

Nicole couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled against the back of her throat. “Really good guitar playing, huh? You sure do know how to flatter the ladies.”

“Hey, shut up! This caught me off guard!” Her elbow knocked heavily to the side as she moved to sock Nicole in the shoulder and tousled the binder on the desk, knocking it to the floor and spilling its contents. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry—.” Her words came out as more of a hiss than anything as she scrambled off the bed to reorganize the papers, only to freeze as she realized what she was looking at. “You—did you write these?”

Clenched in her hands were sheets of music, hastily scrambled out in between jumbled chords. Blocky lettering took up the majority of the page in slim, neat rows, often in multicolored pen, as if Nicole had given up writing a line and returned the next day with a different pen to use. “Oh,” Nicole muttered, and moved to take the papers from Waverly.

Waverly’s eyes were wide as she took in the lyrics. “You wrote these,” she murmured again, no longer a question, and flipped through, unbothered by Nicole’s futile attempts to seize the papers back. “Well—hey, these are really good, Nicole.”

“They’re also private,” Nicole hissed, and Waverly immediately dropped them as if she’d been burned. Her head knocked back as if slipping out of a trance.

“Yeah, of…of course, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked at them, complete invasion of privacy.” She shuffled the rest of the misguided papers in her hand and made a point to hand them back to Nicole without so much as a single glance down. “I didn’t realize you were musical at all.”

“I’m not,” Nicole snapped, then immediately looked abashed at the way Waverly’s face sunk. “I mean, I am, I just—I don’t like sharing my music with anyone. Especially someone I’ve barely met.”

“That song you played for me earlier—was that one you wrote?”

Nicole nodded slowly, refusing to meet Waverly’s eyes. “It was from a few years ago. I had some…unrequited feelings that I struggled with about a few different people and…” Her shrug was noncommittal as her eyes roamed over her own feet. “I don’t know. Music seemed like a good way to express it and eventually songwriting just became a norm for me.”

Waverly seemed almost in a trance, jaw slack with awe and eyes wide before she closed her mouth and her trademark glint returned. “For someone who doesn’t like to share their music as much, you sure were quick to impress me.”

“That’s not what happened! You begged me to play something for you, if I recall correctly.” Nicole laughed good-naturedly. As nervous as she typically was to express any sort of musical ability in front of anyone, her mother included (for a whole other saw of reasons), Waverly hadn’t even had to drag it out of her; it was almost thrilling to play for Waverly in a way she struggled to articulate.

A half-empty water bottle on her nightstand found its way into her hands and she took a swig, only to hear Waverly say, “Okay, so you can play music, you’re on varsity basketball, and I’ve seen you teach calculus to Wynonna; is there anything you can’t do?” The water seemed to run to a standstill in her throat, leaving her sputtering for air. It was—that had to be a compliment, right?

“I can’t dance,” she answered immediately. It was true—for as much rhythm as she had, to say that she was composed of two left feet was a drastic understatement. “And no, that’s not an invitation for you to teach me—Waverly!”

And yet, Waverly was already on her feet, hands outstretched and fingers beckoning to Nicole. She found herself pulled to her feet and then Waverly was swaying her hips to some rhythm she must’ve created in her own head and wasn’t prone to sharing. Chest to chest, hips to hips, and Nicole’s nerve endings were on fire.

Electric.

Waverly almost seemed lost in the moment, wrists twisting against Nicole’s hands and fingers entwining. The insides of their thighs brushed for a moment and a surge of electricity raced up her spine. A sudden ringing, something entirely too upbeat for the moment, pulled her from her reprieve as Waverly’s hands released hers and searched desperately for her phone.

‘Wynonna,’ was briefly available on the screen (followed by more indiscernible emojis)  before Waverly’s eyes went wide and the phone was pressed to her ear. “Hey Wynonna! Yeah, of course I’m on my way to practice, why do you ask? Pause. Okay. Pause. I still don’t see why you can’t ask her. Pause. Fine, I’ll ask her. Pause. Wynonna! Pause. Yes. I’ll see you after practice. Pause. I love you, too!” Unlike Wynonna, Waverly seemed over-the-top about expressing her affections for her sister. A beep signaled that Wynonna had hung up and Waverly lowered it slowly to look at the time. “Oh, poop,” she whispered. “Lucado is gonna kill us.”

Chapter Text

If I’m halfway to hell and you’re already there
Then baby, I can smell the sex in the air
Meet me at the throne and save me a seat
I’ll be waiting right here, you’re good enough to eat
Sweet like the syrup you pour down your throat
While waiting and waiting for me to take off my coat

“So, Wynonna’s having a small get-together tonight, and she really wants you to come. I’m not quite sure what it’s about, but she was insistent. She told me to ask you.”

“Hmm.” Nicole looked far too composed for someone who was presumably about to get ripped a new asshole from a coach she’d only had for a few days. Her fingers ran through her hair placidly; it seemed to be the only response she was willing to give at this point.

Waverly, for what it was worth, had always been bookish.

Much to her dismay, there was never any literature on girls she could study. This proved to be a wonderful problem, as girls were a puzzle she figured she was going to spend the rest of her life happy to figure out. And Nicole Haught—Nicole Haught was a jigsaw all on her own, a composition of pieces she couldn’t even find yet, hidden in some deep recess of her mind. Perhaps music had been one of them.

Maybe getting her to answer the unasked questions was one of her puzzle pieces, too.

Nicole’s foot pressed harder into the gas when she turned onto an empty stretch of road, the same road in which Waverly had caught her glancing at her through the rearview mirror this morning. The pouring speed was enough to make Waverly’s back press against the car seat and her hands to grip the seat beside her until her knuckles turned white. “Anything Wynonna puts together seems like it’ll definitely be a terrible idea later.”

“Keep up the speed and Lucado won’t slaughter us alive and put our head on pikes,” Waverly replied. “And that’s not true entirely. She’s had a few good ideas every once in a while.”

“Oh yeah? Name one.”

“You can’t put me on the spot like that. Unfair. I’m sure I can come up with something. And you’d have to drop me off at the Homestead tonight anyway, you might as well stay for a bit. It’s your first weekend in Purgatory! We should celebrate.”

“Hmm,” Nicole repeated, but a small smile had made its way over her lips as she refocused on the road ahead. “We’ll see.”

Waverly had won.

The car zipped past the vacant spot where Wynonna’s truck had broken down hours ago, the only indication it had been occupied denoted by tire marks on the ground. Presumably Wynonna had either gotten it working again or towed it, but knowing Wynonna, the latter was entirely more likely. Also presumably in Dolls’s fancy SUV, assuming it to be the case. “So varsity cheerleading, huh? Didn’t seem like the kind of thing for someone who has their nose buried in books all day.”

Waverly blushed, and then the words began to pour from her mouth, rapid fire. “All my friends were doing it and egging me on, so I gave it a shot. And at first it was exhausting, like, everything was too fast and I was in too many classes and taking care of Wynonna having this mental break for three months even though she insists it’s the other way around and trying to deal with Willa being, well, Willa, and all this shit and it was like…could everyone just slow down for one fricking minute?” She took a huff as an excuse for a breath and folded her arms over her chest. “But then, I don’t know. It all clicked into place when I came out. It was like. It was like suddenly I could breathe again. Everything became easier when I wasn’t holding this huge weight on my shoulders. Like I wasn’t harboring this giant secret anymore. And frankly, I really wouldn’t change it for the world now.” She shook her head and laughed. “Bit of a loaded answer to a rather simple question, I guess.”

Nicole took a moment to process and Waverly couldn’t help but note how her knuckles had tightened over the steering wheel, whitened. It was a strange urge to want to reach out and detach one of her hands to hold it gently in her own lap to stroke her thumb over, one she insisted she made up, and yet, it was there, nagging at the back of her mind.

How would it feel to hold Nicole’s hand?

She’d shaken it, sure, but holding hands with someone was an exclusively different experience. Her own pressed against her lap. “Sorry. Completely unloaded on you.”

“I guess I owe you my coming out story now, huh?” was all Nicole replied with, which earned a snort from Waverly.

“I’m not sure if that counts as my coming out story because there were a lot more hairy details involved, but it’s fair to say you owe me yours.”

“Right after you explain to me how you knew I was gay.”

“You were wearing a flannel and Doc Martens the first time I met you. I’m not sure what else to say, Nicole.”

Nicole wrinkled her nose and frowned at Waverly yet found herself unable to deny the accusation. So maybe Waverly had a point, which, based on the smug look in her eye, meant she knew it too.

The truck shuddered angrily as it came to a stop in the school parking lot and creaked when Nicole forced the door open with her shoulder. “How are we doing on time?”

“Two minutes until we’re officially late. Not terrible, considering when we left added to your stunningly illegal speeding you pulled back there.”

“If you make a single fucking joke about me hitting someone…”

“Relax.” Waverly winked. Nicole shuddered, to her surprise, whether it was intentional or not. “I’ll give you a break because you drove me to practice. You can terrorize some other cheerleader tonight on the drive home.”

Nicole made a point to specifically not hold the gym doors open for Waverly, whose frown morphed into a smile when she saw Nicole laughing from across the court.

As far as practices went, glancing over at Nicole across court every once in a while making shots like she was born to do it wasn’t terrible. Nedley, the vice principal of Purgatory High, had opted to stop by and help out with coaching, seeing as women’s varsity basketball and cheerleading shared Lucado (hence practice being held at the same time) to lessen the load, and he seemed to be working them harder than Lucado had at the last few practices, so her shirt was off and slung against the far wall of the gym, revealing an abdomen strong enough to cut glass.

Of course she had a fucking six-pack. Waverly felt her mouth go dry as her eyes roamed over Nicole’s arms as well. Everything about her seemed magnetic in some way, Waverly unable to draw her eyes from her frame.

Lucado had never especially liked Waverly ever since having had Wynonna for almost every detention conducted last semester leading up to Wynonna’s failed first-go senior year escapade despite her overdone effort to earn some sort of reputable standing.

“Earp!” It was more of a screech than an actual yell as far as Waverly was concerned, and Chrissy Nedley snorted next to her as she snapped out of staring at Nicole and into attention. “Something funny, Nedley?” Lucado snapped again, earning a holler from across the gym as Nedley assumed she’d been shouting at him.

“Not you, Nedley!” Lucado threw her clipboard up. “I cannot wait to hit my retirement and then it’s sayonara, hellhole. Earp, you’re getting distracted.  Stop ogling the women’s basketball team and focus up! Five minutes, ladies.”

Waverly felt her face burn red as Chrissy stepped in closer, arm wrapping protectively around Waverly’s shoulder and leading her away as her teammates laughed and dispersed for a well-earned break. “Don’t listen to her, she’s just a sad old banshee. Did you hear how she yelled your name? It was like a chicken being strangled to death. But after practice, we’re going to talk about who you’re ogling. Eliza? Rosita? I bet it’s Rosita. I’d ogle Rosita too if that’s what got my motor running. Those legs—”

Waverly made a sound halfway between a snort and a grunt, elbowing Chrissy in the ribs. Her eyes glanced back over at Nicole. “Mind your business, or I’ll tell your dad where you really go on during your off hour.”

Chrissy feigned betrayal, clenching her hand over heart. “You wouldn’t!”

“Lover’s quarrel?” Nicole was slightly out of breath as her hand went to fix the bun holding her hair back, slightly askew from the copious amounts of suicides Nedley had forced them to run moments previous. Sweat glittered on her chest, illuminating the beginning of a cleavage now covered by a loose Blue Devils tank top Waverly forced herself from staring at, instead choosing to focus on a spot that definitely wasn’t her entirely-too-well-defined bicep. Further, she had yet to see Nicole with her hair any way other than framing her chin (beautifully) and it took her almost by surprise, stepping back against Chrissy and jumping when Chrissy yelped.

Nicole took a look between Waverly and Chrissy, then shot Waverly a wink and jogged back down the court to catch a free throw rebound from Eliza Shapiro. “Oh, no way," Chrissy hissed, hand still nursing her foot from where Waverly had crushed it. “It’s the new girl. That’s who you were ogling!”

“Could you stop saying ogle?” Waverly shoved Chrissy’s shoulder gently. “Leave me alone. She’s just Wynonna’s friend, and she’s nice.”

“She’s also, like, eight feet tall, Waves.” Waverly frowned. “However, she’s hot as shit, so at least you’ve still got good taste after the mess that was Champ Hardy. Hell, if you don’t go after her, I’m going to.”

“You don’t even like girls.” Waverly’s frown deeped and her arms folded delicately across her chest.

Chrissy raised her eyebrows and studied Nicole contemplatively—something in Waverly’s chest flared angrily at the notion of anyone else looking Nicole up and down, even if Chrissy’s excuse was clearly bullshit. “I can make an exception.”

Lucado’s whistle blew and Waverly returned to the front of the formation, allowing her eyes to glance over one last time at Nicole, who shot her a grin and a wink visible from all the way down court and sunk a three-pointer with ease.

Waverly choked on her own saliva.

Waverly, for what it was worth in terms of coming from a long line of alcoholics, didn’t drink. While Wynonna seemed to enjoy to burn of whiskey every other night, Waverly found herself avoiding it at all costs. She’d been drunk before on various occasions (typically with Wynonna’s prodding), but her words tended to fall more easily from her lips when she drank and Nicole happened to be present for it, so that was something she wasn’t about. Not when she’d spent half of practice drooling over Nicole and the other half trying to convince Chrissy that she wasn’t drooling over Nicole (a complete lie).

Wynonna, already halfway to hell and still on her way, poured herself another drink and slammed it backwards with a grace only an Earp five shots in could manage. Her hands worked shakily to pour one for Nicole as well, who politely refused it and made a motion to insinuate Wynonna should have it in her honor.

Wynonna seemed thrilled at the thought.

Waverly had disappeared into one of the bathrooms upstairs to shower off the sweat of practice, leaving Nicole alone with Wynonna and one other boy she didn’t recognize. He was small and scrawny, a dark complexion and a sloppy grin that, despite her best efforts, was contagious. He held out his hand. “Jeremy Chetri!” He reminded her of a puppy desperate to please.

She smiled warmly. “Nicole Haught. I take it you’re one of Wynonna’s friends?”

Wynonna rolled her eyes and interrupted him before he could answer. “Haughtshit, meet Lucado’s lapdog.” At Jeremy’s astonished look, she held up her hands in surrender. “Fine. Waverly’s friend.” Another moment of Jeremy’s pseudo-injured look on his face and she relented, muttering out a, “My friend too,” into her drink.

Seemingly pleased enough to move on, he flashed Wynonna a grin and wound his hands together in his lap. “Is Dolls coming? Or Doc? Or both? Oh, please let it be both.”

“Mr. Holliday?” Why would a teacher show up to a gathering of students?

“He’s not Mr. Holliday here. He’s just Doc. One of us. Much more youthful than he looks. Much older than his years would suggest, though. Basically he’s a walking conundrum.” Wynonna winked.

“Yeah he is!” Jeremy agreed.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Probably?” Wynonna’s words slanted to the side just a little bit, revealing exactly how much the alcohol had started to take hold of her. “We were…friends before he became a teacher. Huge history buff.”

“He’s buff, alright.” Jeremy winked.

“Jeremy!” Wynonna hissed. Nicole felt a small burst of laughter bubble up the back of her throat when a sharp knock resounded at the door and a small flurry of new participants joined in, Doc and Dolls among them. Nicole recognized a few of her own teammates as well, including Rosita Bustillos and Eliza Shapiro. Eliza raised her eyebrows at Nicole. “Haughtshit? You know Wynonna?”

Nicole’s smile instantly went tight-lipped. It was most likely not out of malcontentment, but the bite in her words was obvious. Eliza was generally rather nice at practice and made sure Nicole got her fair share of plays versus the other players, but seeing her outside of any type of school setting had her nerves on edge. “Yeah. I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she replied and pushed herself from the couch as Eliza’s fingers wrapped protectively around Dolls’s bicep. Wynonna seemed disinterested, but Nicole noted the way her jaw clenched ever so subtly.

She could hear Doc’s southern drawl from the living room as Wynonna presumably poured him a glass of whiskey neat and took the staircase in hopes that it would plunge her into the silence she so desperately craved.

She’d been to the Homestead to tutor Wynonna modestly so to say she knew her way around wasn’t necessarily a lie, but she was content to wonder for a moment before finding the door. Zoned out, she opened it and was met with a hot, humid heat, followed immediately by a squeak of surprise. “Nicole!”

Waverly’s eyes were wide, clenching a towel to her front, hair still wet from her shower draped over one shoulder. Nicole imagined she probably mimicked the look, eyes wide with astonishment before she hurried out a, “Sorry!” and slammed the bathroom door closed.

If her heart had ruptured all the way through her ribcage and fell to the floor, she wouldn’t have been taken aback. It squeezed against her ribs and screamed for release to embed itself in in the door behind her. Something in the pit of her stomach gnawed angrily as the image of Waverly’s collarbones, slick with the heat of the shower, flashed behind her eyelids, and a heavy pressure began to form somewhat lower. Her legs, too, slim with muscle and smooth, seemed to render Nicole useless.

She let her back slide against the door with a thump as she shook her head to clear the memory. It wasn’t fair to think of Waverly like that, not when she’d accidentally walked in on her, barely covered in a towel. Her head slumped as well, only suddenly the door was gone and she was falling backwards, colliding heavily with the figure behind her.

“Are you kidding me!” Waverly hollered. “I was going to go to my room—were you waiting out here for me?!”

Nicole righted herself instantly and tried to smooth out her flannel—okay, maybe Waverly was right, she did exude an incredibly gay vibe through her outfits alone. “No! I was—I had to use the bathroom and—”

“And you thought leaning against the door to the bathroom you just walked in on me naked in was the best plan? We have other bathrooms! You’ve used them before while tutoring Wynonna.” One of Waverly’s eyebrows raised, as if waiting for an answer she knew she wouldn't receive, and Nicole had to actively fight to keep the word ‘adorable’ from flitting to her mind. She pulled the towel tighter under her arms and cleared her throat. “Just—I’ll be out in a second, okay? Go have a drink. There’s soda in the fridge if you don’t.” She gave Nicole one last look, softer than before, and hurried down the hallway to disappear into her room.

Rejoining the group was more of a challenge than she anticipated it to be and integrating herself seamlessly into the conversation proved nearly impossible altogether. Doc tipped his hat at her and actually greeted her by name, which was a new experience, of a little odd. (He referred to her solely as Ms. Haught in class as he did all his students). “Nicole.” His smile was just lopsided enough to be charming, buffeted by a heavy mustache. “Pleased you’re joining us on this fine evening.” He held up his glass of whiskey to her and seemed to think nothing of it when she offered a soda can to cheers with.

“Hi, Mr. Holliday.” It came out as a nervous stutter and Wynonna snorted into her drink before shooting Nicole an apologetic look.

“Please, Mr. Holliday is reserved only for when I am instructing. I must insist you call me Doc when not in attendance of classes.” He extended his hand. “I do not believe we have informally met.” His southern drawl was even more pronounced than it was in school.

Jeremy seemed to be clinging onto his every word, despite his attendance in the card game that he was very clearly losing.

“Haughtshit. Where’s Waverly?” Wynonna’s slur was beyond evident at this point as her eyes struggled to stay open. “She was s’posed to be here.” Her head drooped to the side for a moment before she giggled and righted herself.

Nicole’s face went as red as her hair at the thought of Waverly clad in nothing but a towel, skin warm from the shower and hair pooling at the nape of her neck. “She’s—”

“Right here!” Waverly announced cheerfully. She plopped herself down next to Wynonna and plucked the half-empty glass of whiskey from her sister’s hands to set it down out of reach. Rosita rolled her eyes and moved the glass from the middle of the card game and onto the floor. Wynonna either didn’t notice or didn’t care and slumped sideways against Waverly’s shoulders, eyes closing contentedly. “Why don’t we get you to bed, Wynonna?”

“We have company,” Wynonna murmured. She nuzzled her nose further into Waverly’s neck. “Gotta entertain ‘em. S’your turn.” The last sentence came out diluted, as if it had been chewed up before slipping over her tongue.

Waverly rolled her eyes and smiled, hands kneading together in her lap as Dolls offered her a hand of cards. She motioned haplessly to Wynonna and shook her head; Dolls nodded and dealt the rest of the hand out to the game’s participants. “Hey.” Dolls’s voice was soft as a smile seeped behind his words. “Go to bed. I can take care of her.”

“You sure?” Waverly readjusted as Wynonna fell asleep on her shoulder. “I’d be a terrible host.”

“Yeah, I’ve done it plenty of times. I’ll make sure everyone’s outta here before one.” He clapped a hand over the shoulder not currently occupied by Wynonna’s head and threw her a grin.

“You’re the best, Dolls.” Waverly shot him the most genuine smile she could. “I’m exhausted.” Her eyes flicked over to Nicole as she untangled herself from Wynonna and her chin jutted to the side, as if to ask her plans.

“I should—I should probably get going.” Nicole cleared her throat and made her way to her feet. Something in Waverly’s face fell for a moment.

“Well, at least let me walk you out to your car. So I’m not that much of a terrible host.” Her smile was genuine and Nicole’s heart fluttered at the sight of it. She allowed Waverly to loop their elbows and lead her out to the truck, sitting placidly under a watery moon.

“Sad I didn’t get to see Gus and Curtis around tonight.”

“Oh. Yeah, Curtis grew this huge tomato and they went to some fair this weekend to collect a prize for it, I guess? Aunt Gus always said the only thing Curtis loved more than her was his tomatoes, so…” Her voice receded into an awkward laugh as she leaned against the hood of Nicole’s car.

“Ah. Well, tell them I say hi when I get back.”

“Sure.” Waverly’s voice tapered off quietly. “I’m sorry if that was the worst first weekend in Purgatory ever. Wynonna was drunk before anyone even got there and there were a lot of people you didn’t know and Doc is—Doc. All mustached and southern accented.”

“Mr. Holliday,” Nicole mused.

“Yeah.” Still quiet. Soundless. Almost as if she was ashamed of being heard. “He and Wynonna have—they had a past, and then she failed senior year when he decided to be a teacher and…” Her hands fluttered in the air followed by a noncommittal noise. “I don’t know. It all went to shit.”

“So—Doc and Wynonna—”

“It’s really complicated.” Waverly ran her fingers through her hair, tousling it. Nicole had to refrain from biting her lip at the sight, or taking Waverly’s hands in her own to keep her from nervously fidgeting with them. “He was going to wait until she graduated to become a teacher so they could still be a thing without it being, you know, illegal, and he’d already accepted the job to start after her senior year and couldn’t back out of it because he needed the money and then Wynonna failed and they had this huge falling out for like, three months. They just made their peace with each other a few weeks ago but she’s sort of with Dolls now which complicates things again.” Her eyes went wide again and she laughed nervously. “You gotta start stopping me when I info-dump you!”

“No, no, I like it—it’s…it’s nice to see some actual personality.” She cringed. “That—that came out super wrong. I just meant it’s nice to actually have a conversation, a real conversation with someone.” Her head shook. “Okay, so that wasn’t a ton better.”

Waverly smiled enough that her eyes crinkled. Adorable. “Text me when you get home safe. Drunk drivers thrive in the late hours.”

“Yeah, I’ll…I’ll do that. The texting thing, not the drunk driving thing.” A grin settled over Nicole’s lips at how seamlessly she was able to hold a conversation with Waverly, even if her nerves were shot. She’d been through hell and back in Ontario with trying to talk to pretty girls her age for more than a few moments, but with Waverly it felt seamless, like an integration had already happened before any thoughts had even surfaced.

“Well, I’ll—I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

“I tutor Wynonna tomorrow, so if you’re here around one then you’ll see me then.”

Waverly ducked her head and smiled. “I’ll plan on it. One o’clock tomorrow.” Something about her was different in the moonlight—not off, per se, but contrasting, as if it had illuminated alternate corners of her that Nicole had been previously blind to. Her hair, nearly dried, pooled in her collarbones, all too exposed from a tank top and sleep-pants rolled around her ankles. They must’ve been Wynonna’s at some point if they were that long on Waverly, Nicole supposed.

Her head nodded over to the truck a bit closer to the house, if only to tear her eyes away from what she knew was a too-long linger towards Waverly’s arms. “You should probably take that in pretty soon. Get it fixed up. I’m telling you, my uncle’s the best in town. Okay, the only in town.”

Waverly turned as Nicole pulled the door to her truck open and slid inside. The truck rumbled to a start and began to rev, only for Nicole to see that Waverly hadn’t quite moved from where she was standing in the truck, arms folded over her chest, face contemplative.

It took a moment to roll down the window—it still had one of the hand-cranks that Nicole had fondly refused to let go of even when her uncle had given her the option to upgrade it. “Am I missing a joke about hitting you with my car or what?”

Waverly cracked a grin. “No. I just—.” Her voice dropped to a low whisper that Nicole strained to hear over the sound of the engine. “Get home safe, okay, Nicole?”

“You’ll know when I do.” Nicole shot her a wink in hopes that it would do to Waverly’s stomach what Waverly’s presence was doing to her own; then the window was up and the truck was peeling off the Homestead.

Nicole’s eyes stayed glued on Waverly through the rearview mirror, who watched the car leave until she disappeared from sight.

Chapter Text

There are beasts that live inside us
And beasts that live between
Our very bones and thoughts and minds
Beasts that see everything
There are beasts that live among us
With eyes that glint in pain
They tell me who I cannot love
They tell me I’m insane

Tutoring went well enough as far as Wynonna’s blatant lack of motivation and attention span was concerned—she’d managed to scrape by the first week’s quiz with a low C (thanks to Nicole), but Nicole’s mind was elsewhere the whole time.

Waverly, as promised, had been more than present when Nicole had shown up, going as far as to wait out front for Nicole to arrive and shooting her a cheeky grin when she did to walk her into the Homestead. The next half hour of the session had been followed by Waverly wandering around doing odd jobs to clean up while humming under her breath.

Despite her lack of actual singing, Nicole could hear the words, loud and clear, every time Waverly was close enough.

She may as well have been whispering it into Nicole’s ear. It was her song, the one she’d played in the living room the day before. And Waverly knew it, humming just a bit louder when she came into the dining room where Wynonna was gnawing on a pencil, eyebrows crinkled together in concentration.

Tutoring Wynonna certainly didn’t pay the bills (not that she had any to pay), but it was enough. Gus was generous enough to tip twenty percent as well, which she’d begun stowing away instead of depositing directly into her “get the hell outta Purgatory” stache.

It probably wouldn’t hurt to let Waverly know where else she worked, if she could pull her aside for a few minutes after the hour was up—

Wynonna threw her pencil down onto the table and grunted in frustration. “I don’t fucking get it. This shit is impossible on a good day. I’m fucked.”

Nicole immediately snapped into supportive teacher mode. “No, that’s not true; you know it’s not. You have the whole right idea. But it’s a negative tangent, not a positive. You just dropped a minus sign in your integration.” The pencil in Nicole’s hand circled a small error on Wynonna’s paper.

Wynonna seemed to examine it for a moment before her eyes went wide. “Haught damn! I’m a genius!” She planted a sloppy kiss on Nicole’s cheek that seemed more for show than actual reason and scratched out her previous work.

Nicole’s eyes immediately found Waverly’s, cheek still wet with Wynonna’s saliva. She looked, Nicole noted, less than pleased with the whole ordeal. Her knuckles were white against the countertop as her fingers pressed hard into the marble.

There was no way Waverly Earp was jealous.

Was there? What did she even have to be jealous about at that point?

Nicole shot a small smile Waverly’s way and refocused her attention back to Wynonna, who hefted her work into the air to admire it. “Would you look at that? I got zero. Right there!” Her finger pointed excitedly to what Nicole supposed could be a zero at the bottom of the paper, but Wynonna’s handwriting made it hard to tell a stick figure from the letter ‘F’ on a good day (which she assumed Wynonna saw in abundance if her test scores from the years previous were any indication).

Nicole felt a momentary flare of pride—it was hard to get Wynonna excited about anything academic (unless it was history, but Nicole figured that was more Mr. Holliday’s (Doc’s? She wasn’t quite sure where she stood with him at this point) doing than any material she was actually learning). “I’d kiss you right now if I was into that, Haughtshit.” Wynonna shook her paper a few more times for emphasis and scooted her chair away from the table. “I think this calls for some shots!” Her boots hit the floor heavily as she made her way towards the pantry.

“Wynonna—” Waverly started, hand reaching out to clasp around her sister’s arm and hold her in place. “Come on. You’re still nursing a hangover from last night. No one falls off a horse because they want to get back on.”

Wynonna grinned gleefully as the bottle of Jack Daniels from one of the cupboards made its way into her hand, and then kissed the opening of her lips. “I fucking hate horses, babygirl. And that’s not even the expression.” She pinched Waverly’s cheek in a way that Nicole assumed was endearing only to realize it was probably more condescending at the frown Waverly displayed before resuming her seat back at the table. “Calculus waits for no woman, Haught, and I’m full of wisdom now. Teach me more shit. I’m ready to learn.”

Waverly grunted and disappeared around the corner of the kitchen. Nicole’s heart sank—she’d genuinely been enjoying Waverly’s absent minded cleaning if it meant she would look up at her every few minutes. Most of the time Waverly was already glancing back anyway, and the eye contact felt like music to Nicole, a series of major chords her heartstrings thrummed out excitedly.

She tried not to think too much into it—music was a hobby, and just that. She wasn’t going to get a scholarship for being a mediocre guitar player. She was, however, all the more likely to get one for varsity basketball for her fourth year in a row—it was like she’d pulled herself in the gayer version of High School Musical.

Gross.

Wynonna took another swig of whiskey and offered the bottle to Nicole. “I don’t drink,” she replied, motioning with her hands to get it out of her face.

Wynonna’s face went serious for a moment, eyes darkening as the rim of the bottle lowered. “Good. Don’t start.”

 “Hey! Waves! I was hoping to catch you before I had to go.” Nicole jangled her keys in her hand for emphasis. “You disappeared on me; I was just beginning to like our little walks out to the car.” It had been pure luck that she’d caught up to Waverly on the way out, who had made a point to avoid the kitchen table for the remaining half-hour of tutoring and had been making her way back inside when Nicole had opened the screen door to let herself out and they had nearly collided. Again.

Nicole had to physically restrain herself from letting her mind flash to Waverly wrapped in nothing but a towel.

“Yeah, well, you seemed all cozy with Wynonna back there anyway,” Waverly huffed. Her arms folded over her chest. “Figured I’d leave you two to it.”

“Waverly?”

Waverly’s foot tapped against the porch, which creaked agrily under her weight. It was probably going to give at any minute; years of weathered beatings had left the wood warped and worn, threatening to collapse if there were ever to be a misstep. She toed a splinter in the wood. “Look, I’m just not in a good mood, okay?”

“Is this because Wynonna kissed my cheek?” Nicole sounded genuinely confused, and Waverly figured she’d feel bad if she wasn’t so damn angry. The fact that she wasn’t even sure what had put her down was like pouring gasoline on a fire—a big fucking fire that burned where her skin touched her clothes and left the taste of ashes in her throat.

She thoroughly refused to believe that seeing someone else kiss Nicole’s cheek was what had set her off—that would just be ridiculous—if only slightly on par for how she felt.

Which added to the fact that she was being unreasonable and she knew it. “It’s none of your business,” she spat, and Nicole took a step back, as if she’d been struck. Regret instantly flooded Waverly, but it was too late.

Nicole’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion and she let out a soft, “Oh,” before tucking her hand into her pocket and nodding. “I’ll see you on Monday, Waverly.” Her words were delicate to the point that Waverly thought they might shatter if they pushed against Nicole’s teeth too much.

“Nicole, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Nicole gave her a small smile laced with sadness and disappeared into the front of her truck, peeling away without so much as a glance back.

 Sunday was slow and lazy as far as Waverly was concerned—weekends were a small luxury she could rarely afford, and especially weekends that involved no cheer or copious piles of homework she found herself nose-deep in by noon; she was fully planning on capitalizing.

She’d sent Nicole a fair amount of texts here and there which had been met with only silence and guilt burning the back of her throat like acid.

Wynonna, of course, had other plans. The door to her bedroom slammed open and hit the far wall with a loud enough bang that even Wynonna winced and checked to make sure that the drywall on the other side of the door was still intact. (The Homestead was falling apart as it was; there was little she could concern herself with even if Wynonna had managed to break the drywall with a door handle. Patching it up almost wouldn’t have been worth the effort, anyway.)

“Have you ever tried knocking? One day you’re going to walk in on something you don’t want to see.”

“Like that time I walking in on you sucking Champ’s—”

“Wynonna!” Waverly frowned and tried her best not to think about it. She wasn’t sure who it had scarred more. (Wynonna had screamed some rather vulgar language at Champ for violating her little sister and Waverly had rocked back on her heels in surprise and fallen over. It was quite the escapade. Wynonna had yet to let her forget about it, try as she might.)

“Get your cute little ass out of bed, babygirl, we’re taking the truck in to get fixed today.”

Waverly’s frown deepened as all plans of making tea and curling up in pajamas with a nice history book began to dissipate on the comforter in front of her. “Why?”

“Because, you’ve been moping around since tutoring yesterday for some godforsaken reason which means something happened between you and Haughtshit in between then and now. So I figure she won’t be the one driving us to school tomorrow, and I don’t know about you, kid, but I don’t plan on walking the sixteen miles.”

Waverly tried to hide her sulk and tucked her chin into her shoulder.

“Oh, would you unclench, Waves? We’ll be in and out, just like that. Much like how much it took for Champ to blow his load—” Wynonna narrowly avoided the pillow launched her way. Her grin would’ve been infectious had Waverly not been attempting to seethe. “Be downstairs in ten, babygirl.”

“Or what? You’re gonna leave without me?” The thought wasn’t actually terrible. Wynonna out of the house was even better—no one to interrupt her. And maybe Nicole would finally text back. (Wishful thinking, perhaps, but it was better than nothing.)

“No. I’m gonna come drag you out to Dolls’s car in whatever you’re wearing when I come back. He was nice enough to offer to tow the truck to the shop and I don’t wanna disappoint him by being late. Plus it was a tequila sunrise sunset or whatever the fuck it’s called so you’re going to need to be the one that drives my baby home when they’re done fixing her up.” Wynonna shot her a wink and disappeared from the room.

Waverly’s head hit the pillow as another pressed over her face to suppress a groan. Her best hope was that Nicole hadn’t decided that her uncle’s automobile shop was the place to be on a Sunday afternoon.

Fuck.

 The auto shop was quiet and musty—the smell of gasoline and burned rubber filled the air, and yet oddly enough, it was comforting. It reminded Waverly of when she’d hide out in the garage when her father had fallen into his nightly drunken rage; it was the one space he never bothered to look for her—not that he bothered much at all. She’d been invisible to him for the vast majority of her life, and the only time she seemed to surface to attention was when she was in trouble.

When she had grown a bit older and Ward Earp had been…gone, she’d still found solace among the rafters over the car until Wynonna had caught on to her hiding spot and she had to find another quiet area (r.e. Her closet. How beautifully ironic, she would later learn).

A man who Waverly assumed to be Nicole’s uncle popped up from behind the desk and shot her and Wynonna a crooked grin. The stubble of an orange beard had shadowed his face and a baseball cap covered a meager spattering of red hair. It was the only resemblance to Nicole, but it was enough to make guilt wash over the back of Waverly’s tongue again at the thought of snapping at Nicole yesterday, only to watch her drive away without so much as a glance back.

There was a shout from across the garage as a body that was half submerged underneath a behemoth of a truck wriggled for a moment to avoid what seemed to be a bang from the hood. Those boots almost looked familiar —

“Samuel Haught. How can I help you folks?” Nicole’s uncle wiped his hands on a greasy rag sticking out from his breast pocket and moved to shake Wynonna’s hand first, unsurprisingly. Waverly looked like she was barely fourteen on a good day.

“Our piece of shit truck broke down the day before yesterday.” Never quite a sugarcoat from Wynonna. “We need her up and running again asap.”

His head angled around her to peer out the window to where it sat sullenly in the parking lot. “The Ford F-150? What year?”

“1992.”

He whistled low. “She’s an oldie. Alright. Drive her in and I’ll take a look.”

“Doesn’t drive anymore—that’s what we were hoping you could fix. We had to tow it over here with my friend’s SUV.”

Waverly chose to keep her mouth shut about Wynonna’s word choice concerning Dolls.

He seemed to think for a moment and nodded. “Haught!” The body underneath the car in the corner of the shop froze, then began to sidle out. “Come on over and tow the Ford in the parking lot into seven! I’ll finish up on that beast if you get started on the newbie.”

Waverly felt her breath tear from her throat. “Oh, fuck,” she hissed.

Nicole emerged from underneath the truck and made her way to her uncle. No wonder the boots had looked familar—they were the Doc Martins she wore religiously. A loose workman’s full-body outfit, identical to her uncle’s, folded around her waist to act solely as pants that tucked into her boots, arms draping inside-out and unceremoniously against her thighs. A tight white tank top clung to her torso, slick with grease and sweat. It seemed to coat her arms and chest as well from having worked underneath the heat of a car for what Waverly could only assume had to have been a few hours at that point.

She made a point not to stare at Nicole’s biceps, flexed and veiny from the elbow grease she’d been giving.

A light blue baseball cap that matched the color of her uniform stifled her hair, pulled back into a loose french braid that left her jawline unfairly pronounced.

She looked good.

“Hey, Wynonna!” Waverly’s eyes tracked Nicole’s fingers as she wiped them with the rag that hung from her waist. Her throat cleared. “Waverly.” She refused to make eye contact with Waverly, and somehow that hurt even more.

“Hey, Haughtstuff! Didn’t realize you worked here too. I go to that stripper bar Pussy Willows sometimes—should I be expecting to see you there as well?”

Nicole shot Wynonna a dazzling smile that had Waverly forgetting how to breath. “Haha, Wynonna, very funny. My uncle needed the womanpower and I needed the cash.” Her gaze turned to Waverly. She felt smaller, somehow, under her glare. “I was actually going to tell you that I worked here, Waverly, but you didn’t seem to want to talk yesterday after tutoring.” Her grin was a mix between condescending and melancholy.

“Nicole,” Waverly started, but it was cut off by the sound of a throat clearing. Possibly for the best—she didn’t have any idea what to say after that, choking on the words as they angrily crowded into the back of her throat.

“If you’re done socializing, that Ford still needs to be towed.” Her uncle jutted his chin towards the parking lot, then back to Wynonna. “If I could pull you aside for some paperwork.”

“Right.” Nicole tipped her cap at Wynonna with a grin. “Earps.” Then she disappeared out the front door of the automobile shop, and Waverly’s stomach sank into her knees.

Chapter Text

Her tongue is like sugar
So sweet and so sure
How does it taste?
How does it taste?
But her words are too sour
For lips so pure
What a waste
What a waste.

“Waverlyyy,” Wynonna drawled slowly, poking her head around the corner of the office where she’d been filling out paperwork on the truck for the past fifteen minutes. She shot her a dazzling smile. “I need you to do me a really big favor.”

Waverly frowned. Favors from Wynonna usually entailed something dangerous, illegal, or in most cases, both. “What?” The word came out more as a sigh that flitted between her lips unhappily than anything else.

Wynonna blinked, as if she hadn’t actually expected to get this far. “Good ‘ol Sam here needs someone to stay while Haughtstuff works on the truck, but I sorta promised Dolls that I’d let him take me out for coffee at noon, and you know Dolls. He’d cry if I had to bail.”

“I’ve never seen Dolls express any emotion a day in my life,” Waverly countered.

“Please? I’ll owe you one. Plus I can’t drive it anyway.” She curled her three middle fingers into a fist and stuck out her thumb and pinky, miming taking a drink.

Waverly’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as her hand waved noncommittally in the air. The message was clear; Fine, go.

Wynonna squealed happily and planted a kiss on Waverly’s cheek before disappearing out the door. A quick check of the time revealed that it was already a few minutes away from noon, and Xavier was the most pedantic person that she knew—there was no way to wrangle Wynonna back in now. Not without a tranquilizer.

At least, she figured, she had her phone to distract her from Nicole, who no longer occupied herself underneath the car, but had rather popped the hood and started tinkering with something in the engine.

Which, of course, gave Waverly a wonderful view of her legs and the curve of her ass that she was definitely not looking at, despite the fact that it somehow managed to look incredible, even in a mechanic’s uniform.

Especially in a mechanic’s uniform.

She huffed in frustration and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

And then, with all the luck in the universe, it died.

An annoyed huff fell from her lips as tucked her phone back into her pocket, legs crossed, preparing to wait out the brutality of the situation with a frown and a select few words to toss at Wynonna when she arrived again. Her bottom leg jiggled in anticipation—she didn’t have anywhere to be, but the thought of sharing a space with someone she’d been rather harsh too less than 24 hours ago and was now placidly ignoring her wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured her Sunday afternoon going when she’d woken up that morning.

“You know.” The voice was followed by a clang and a comical swear that had Waverly trying to stifle a grin. “You don’t have to pretend like I’m not here. Also I dropped this motherfucking wrench on my foot, so at least have a little pity on me.” Nicole heaved and stood up, leaning against the front of the truck. It groaned apprehensively.

Waverly turned her head away from Nicole; her foot had stopped jiggling, at least.

“Waves, come on. That wrench really hurt.” Her tone was just shy of mocking, but entirely more friendly and it broke down walls Waverly hadn’t even realized she built. She huffed and turned to see Nicole shooting her a smile, grease rag slung over one shoulder and baseball cap twisted around backwards. Strands of stark red hair that had escaped the braid clung sweatily to her cheeks, dimpled with a smile. A smudge of grease had found its way to settle underneath Nicole’s left eye, and Waverly had to fight the urge to go over and wipe it off with her thumb.

“Why are you being nice to me? I just ignored you and I snapped at you yesterday.” It wasn’t a whisper, per se, but it was enough to make Nicole move a fraction of an inch closer.

To her credit, she played it off well by pretending to check the tire. “Yeah, well, I think you’ve just been dating too many shitheads,” Nicole replied.

“We’re not dating!” Waverly snapped, then instantly bit her tongue. That hadn’t been what she’d meant to say, nor with the inflection she’d meant to say it with. Nicole’s whole character changed, shoulders pulling tight in defense.

“I know,” she replied quietly, terse.

Waverly’s legs acted before her mind did, carrying her over to sit next to where Nicole had taken up residence by the front right tire of the truck. She pulled her ankles up to her hips to rest her head on her knees. The floor of the auto shop was beyond filthy, covered in dirt and grease and god knows what else, and these jeans were new, dammit, but the thought of sitting next to Nicole somehow made it all better, jeans be damned. “I’m sorry. For snapping at you when you don’t deserve it. There just—there’s been a lot on my mind recently.”

Nicole’s arm’s swung wide before dragging a scooter over and settling herself over it to pull herself underneath the engine. “Indulge yourself. We’ve got a bit more time.”

Now firmly situated underneath the truck, Nicole’s foot began to tap gently against the floor as she worked. She hummed quietly to herself while she did so; it was a tune Waverly didn’t recognize but was somehow all the more beautiful, as if each new note was something she had to discover.

Nicole’s music did that, somehow, the fraction of it she’d heard. Each note left a breath at the forefront of her lips, all too eager to hear the next. Constant chills on her spine, hairs on end.

She hadn’t expressed how badly she’d wanted to screw practice on Friday and stay to listen to more of Nicole’s songs. “Is that one of your songs?” she ventured. Nicole’s foot ground to a halt.

“It was,” she replied laconicly, and that seemed to be the only answer she was willing to give. Again, with getting Nicole to answer the questions she hadn’t asked. She’d work on that. “You know, you can vent to me, Waves. We’re friends and all that.”

Friends. Waverly’s least favorite f-word as of late, especially when thinking about Nicole. She wasn’t sure why the notion of it bothered her so much—sure, Nicole was attractive (so, so attractive), and sweet, and smart, and funny as hell, and…

Waverly bit her lip to stop herself from listing anymore adjectives, lest her queue go exactly where she knew it was headed; that wasn’t what she needed right now. She had enough on her mind.

Waverly heaved a sigh. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“I could do this shit in my sleep,” came the reply from under the car. “Shoot.” The foot commenced its tapping.

“I just…among other things, it’s Wynonna.” The foot tapping stopped as Nicole listened more intently. “She’s being reckless and starting to pull shit that’s going to get her in trouble. Like, she skipped more classes last year than she went to. She isn’t meant for this small town stuff, but she can’t make herself give a shit ever since…” Her voice trailed off.

“Waverly.” The voice was quiet as it drifted out from the bottom of the truck. “How did Wynonna get into juvie?”

Waverly went quiet as her foot tapped gently against the side of Nicole’s boot. Her hand snaked its way over and squeezed Nicole’s knee. “I’m just worried she’s going to pull the same stuff she pulled last year. Skipping all the time and failing senior year again. She says she hasn’t been skipping yet, and I believe her, but I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

Nicole’s knee flexed under her hand, which she realized she hadn’t moved. Somehow it felt right.

“...She says she hasn’t been skipping yet, and I believe her, but I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

Nicole’s knee involuntarily flexed at the thought of Friday—she remembered vaguely the first day she’d met Wynonna, sitting in the backseat of her truck and talking.

If my sister finds out I’ve been skipping again a week into the new school year she’s going to have an aneurysm and I can not be responsible for that. The kid’s under enough stress as is.

Nicole herself wasn’t skipping—she had sixth hour off, but Wynonna avoided whatever class she had then like the plague. It for sure wasn’t calculus, because she dragged Wynonna to that every damn time and made her pay attention despite her constant complaining, but the rest of her classes Wynonna couldn’t seem to give less of a shit about.

And thus, two o’clock on Friday afternoon had found Wynonna and Nicole sitting in the back of Nicole’s truck, sharing a cherry lollipop Waverly had given Nicole in passing from first hour to second.

(She’d flushed red the whole rest of the day as the lollipop burned a hole through her pocket and into her heart.)

The lollipop tasted slightly like whiskey whenever Wynonna passed it over, even if she hadn’t been drinking. They’d chatted mindlessly here and there, Nicole only half-listening, until the conversation focused onto Waverly.

Wynonna, for as much as she tantalized Waverly, adored her. Nicole had trouble blaming her—Waverly was an earth-bound angel, and in more than just her looks (although those were somehow always mesmerizing as well). She was easily the kindest person Nicole knew, with a heart of gold buried underneath something she had trouble picking up on—a sort of sadness she was determined to unlock.

On Waverly’s own time, of course.

She’d been all too present in the conversation about Waverly, until Wynonna dropped the dreaded, “So, you and my sister, huh?” and Nicole had felt her breath stifle to a halt in her chest.

She’d scoffed initially to try to play down the heat flaming up in her cheeks. “There’s nothing going on between me and Waverly. She’s just—she’s really nice to hang out with when you’re too drunk to entertain your houseguests, who, might I remind you, you invited over in the first place.”

Wynonna had gone bright red and changed the topic immediately following, probably to Dolls or Doc or something else Nicole couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to.

Wynonna had been right, though—Waverly was high strung and she couldn’t stand the thought of telling her that her sister was lying, even if it was, in some selfish way, to help her. That was between Waverly and Wynonna, right? Her mind battled between the two thoughts. Tell Waverly and risk losing Wynonna’s friendship, along with adding an extra bout of stress onto Waverly’s plate, not to mention create tension between them, or forego it entirely, and say nothing. Waverly would never have to find out.

She bit her lip. Maybe the latter was her best option—

Waverly, evidently, chose for her, by changing the topic. “How’s it looking under there?”

Nicole used the momentary lapse to tap her wrench against a pipe under the bottom of the car. “Well, your car is dirty as shit, so I’d consider getting an undercarriage wash if I were you. But other than that, it wasn’t really a huge deal. A few more tweaks here and there, and I think we should be good to go.”

She shuffled under the car for a few more moments then dug her heels into the ground and pulled herself out. “Also, your windshield wiper fluid is completely empty. Frankly, it looks like you guys haven’t had any in there for a few years.”

To her surprise, Waverly went deep red and let out an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, Wynonna refused to put it in so that when the windshield got exceptionally dirty she could make Doc wash it shirtless. It’s stupid as hell.”

“Ah, which is exactly on par with what I would expect Wynonna to do. Do you know how to fill it up?” Nicole leaned forward against her knees and began to toss tools into a cluttered work box next to her. Waverly shook her head and burned brighter red. “I’ll show you. Free of charge.”

“You’re so courteous.”

“But. If I teach you how to do this, you have to teach me how to do something too. I’m doing this out of the goodness of my own heart, and I’m sure there are plenty of things up in that brain of yours that I’d be dying to know.” Nicole let a grin lilt easily against her lips as her fingers reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind Waverly’s ear and tap gently against the side of her head with her forefinger.

Okay, so she was flirting. Wynonna wasn’t around to give her side-eye and Waverly actually seemed to be playing into it, even going as far as to flirt back.

It was thrilling in every sense of the word.

Waverly seemed to think about it for a second before nodding slowly, eyes upturned. It took Nicole’s breath away. “Do you know how to play chess?”

“Okay, so unscrew that. Yeah. Not like that. Move.”

Waverly huffed in frustration. “You’re supposed to be teaching me how to do this stuff, Nicole, not berating me. Why don’t I get all your sweet talk that you give to Wynonna for calculus?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want my sweet talk?” The chill that ran up Waverly’s spine was entirely unprecedented at the drawl Nicole said sweet talk in. “Here, I’ll show you.” She adopted a much softer tone and wrapped herself around the back of Waverly’s frame, hands reaching around her shoulders to guide the mouth of the washer fluid bottle to the opening.

“This seems unnecessary,” Waverly huffed again, ignoring the pounding in her chest as she leaned back against Nicole. Greasy, sweaty Nicole, who felt strong and sure of her actions no matter what they were, like there was no doubt in her mind that they were the right ones.

“I suppose,” Nicole replied nonchalantly. She teased the bottle from Waverly fingers and unwound herself to set it on the bench behind her. “But, for future reference, if you didn’t want to pretend to not already know what you were doing, you wouldn’t have known which one of these unlabeled bottles was the washer fluid.”

Nicole shot her a wink and slunk off into her uncle’s office, leaving Waverly’s face burning bright red in her wake.

Chapter Text

When I was younger I often dreamed
Of knights on horses to protect the king
The rooks stood by, the pawns above
And bishops guarded king sanctum of
Course, when I was younger
With younger dreams
I didn’t realize
I’m the fucking queen

Waverly’s face was still heavy with a blush when Nicole reemerged a few minutes later, papers in hand and sporting a smirk that Waverly found frustratingly endearing. So she had known how to change washer fluid—the part about Wynonna keeping it dry to make Doc wash the windshield was true, at least—and normally she despised the notion of dumbing herself down to appear more attractive, especially to guys.

(Champ had been the worst scenario. When she’d excitedly told him about all of her AP classes she’d signed up for, he’d grunted and made a wildly sexist comment about how she was going to be too smart to know how to cook and clean their house when they lived in Buenos Aires together. That had been the final straw for her.)

But Nicole was so much different. The comment of teaching her something new—Waverly would be lying if she said that hadn’t taken her by surprise. She hadn’t looked down on Waverly for not knowing how to do something basic, and further, had insisted Waverly taught her something as well.

That had to be flirting, right?

“So I was able to trifle with my uncle about the price, so it’s only gonna be—Waves? You okay in there?” Nicole’s voice lowered gently as she moved her hand to wave in front her counterpart. “Still on Earth, space cadet?”

“Huh?” Waverly snapped into attention. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking.”

“About?” Nicole shuffled through the papers for a moment.

“Just stuff. You fixed my car so quick even though you probably had other stuff to be doing—”

“I always have time for you, Waves.”

Waverly felt her breath catch as her next words fell to a halt against the back of her tongue and threatened to slip back down her throat. The blush she’d finally managed to push back surfaced again on her collarbones and over the back of her neck. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight. Gus and Curtis are back and they were wondering when they’d get to see you again. I’d be happy to drive you back to the Homestead and home afterwards and everything so you wouldn't be bothered with doing it, too. And maybe I could teach you how to play chess afterwards? Only if you wanted.”

“Sometimes you really do talk a mile a minute, Waves. Something making you nervous?” Nicole sidled closer until the heat of her body was practically readiating against Waverly’s own. Despite the sweat and grease and oil she was covered in, she still managed to smell like vanilla-dipped doughnuts, a heady scent Waverly found herself inexplicably drawn to. After all, vanilla-dipped doughnuts were her favorite. She leaned closer, her forehead practically touching Nicole’s chin.

Her hands ached to reach forward and rest against Nicole’s biceps. Maybe squeeze them a little.

“Shut up,” she murmured, tucking her chin in her collarbone and frowning. Her body swayed slightly closer.

“Babygirl!”

Waverly flinched and jumped back from Nicole almost instantly. “Wynonna! You’re back early.”

Wynonna frowned. “We’ve been gone for an hour and a half. It was more than enough time to get coffee and then knock boots.”

“I can’t believe you.” Waverly’s face went the color of Nicole’s hair. Dolls looked rather uncomfortable as well. He cleared his throat.

“Truck is all done,” Nicole said, clearly trying to play down the palpable discomfort in the air. “Sam’s ready when you are. I was able to talk the price down a bit so don’t haggle with him anymore.”

Wynonna shot Nicole a dazzling smile and wrapped herself tighter around Dolls’s arm. “You know me so well.” She disappeared into the office.

“To answer your question, I’d love to join you for dinner and some chess tonight. You’ll have to let me go home and shower first, obviously,” Nicole laughed. Her hand gestured to herself.

Frankly, Waverly wouldn’t have even cared. Nicole was intoxicating in any form, greasy and sweaty mechanic included. If anything, it made her even more attractive.

“Yeah. Of course. Gus and Curtis wouldn’t even let you in otherwise.” There was the sound of a door opening and closing somewhere in the shop. “But I do have one more question before we go.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Nicole leaned back up against the truck of the car and folded her arms over her chest, ankles crossing.

“You seem to know a lot about cars. So, I just have to ask. Why didn’t you know to turn on your lights before almost killing me with your car?” Waverly’s grin was almost obnoxious, if she had time to consider it, before Wynonna sounded from behind her.

“Haught.” Oh no. Her voice was stone cold. “You almost killed my baby sister?”

Nicole felt the blood drain from her face. She’d been face to face with death on several occasions and yet the thought of facing an angry Wynonna seemed infinitely more terrifying. “Maybe?”

Dolls wrapped his arm around Wynonna’s waist to keep her from advancing and Waverly spun for her hands to grab her sister’s shoulders. “Not like that!”

“If she hurt you—”

“Wynonna.” Waverly’s voice was sweet and quiet. “Do I look hurt? It was an accident. She didn’t have her lights on and I was walking in the middle of the road when I shouldn’t have been. It was a mutual fuck-up.”

Her eyes flicked between Nicole and Waverly for a moment before settling back onto Nicole, eyebrows narrowing. “Nicole, if you hurt her, if you so much as move a strand of her perfect hair, I swear to god—”

“Stop!” Waverly shouted. It was loud enough to make Wynonna take a step back. Even Dolls looked surprised. “You don’t get to blame her for this and pretend I had nothing to do with it, either. Not all of it. Let it go, Wynonna. I was walking in the fucking street, too.”

Wynonna glanced warily between the two again before folding herself back into Dolls. “So you were both stupid assholes?”

“Only as stupid as you usually are, Earp,” Nicole ventured.

Surprisingly, Wynonna nodded astutely. “Fair enough.” Somehow it had blown over easier than Nicole had assumed it would. However, she was the last person who wanted to argue about it. “But babygirl, please for the love of god, say fuck more often.”

“No.”

Wynonna frowned.

Night had fallen by the time Nicole arrived back at the Homestead. It wasn’t particularly late, but winter was approaching and the sunlight was receding, leaving a heavy darkness surrounding the outside of the house. “Nicole!” Waverly seemed giddy as she opened the door and ushered her inside. “Glad you could make it.”

“I see the truck made it back,” Nicole replied, chin arching out to where it sat forlornly underneath the moonlight. “I take it it ran okay?”

“Better than okay. It hasn’t felt that smooth in years. Not sure what you did, but damn it was nice. You’ve got magic fingers.”

Nicole winked. Waverly flushed a heavy red and downturned her eyes.

“Nicole?” Gus’s accent was evident from somewhere in the kitchen. “Darlin? Come on in!” Nicole wrinkled her nose at Waverly and made her way through the rest of the house, letting herself get swallowed into a hug by Gus. She smelled like clove cigars and flour, an odd although not entirely unpleasant scent. “Glad you could make it. Curtis and his tomatahs are outside, but I’m sure he’ll be in pretty soon and we can have dinner.”

“Is Wynonna here?”

“Present,” Wynonna slurred from behind her. She’d wrapped herself around Waverly’s shoulders and a giddy grin had pasted its way over her face. Gus frowned.

“I see you’ve helped herself to my whiskey,” she grumbled. Wynonna’s face instantly went sour.

“Sorry, Gus.”

Gus waved her off with another frown and slung the kitchen rag in her hand over her shoulder. “Yeah, well. Get her washed up for dinner and it shouldn’t be problem.”

Waverly nodded solemnly and lead Wynonna into the back of the house, her words echoing in Nicole’s head about why she drank so much.

Only to forget, babygirl.

“This is a…rook?” Nicole’s fingers crafted delicately over one of the pieces on her side of the board. It drew Waverly’s eyes in for longer than she would’ve cared to admit.

“Bishop.” Her voice wobbled ever so slightly as she fought to keep her focus. Her legs folded underneath her on her bed—she’d spent the hour before Nicole had arrived furiously throwing all of her things haphazardly around the room until it had regained some semblance of cleanliness.

(Wynonna gave her constant shit about the upkeep of her room. For someone so put together you’d think you’d know how to fold your clothes and put them away.)

The thought of Nicole seeing her room made her head spin. There was nothing formal about it, and they were friends, and it was normal for friends to see each other’s rooms, right? She had yet to see Nicole’s, but she’d also only been to her house once, and speaking of, that was where she had heard Nicole play guitar and sing for the first time—

“This is a beautiful board,” Nicole breathed, running the pad of her finger over the horse’s head in her hand she’d replaced for the bishop. It was enough to pull Waverly from her fantasy and back into reality. Somehow, with her here, the two seemed to intermingle more often than not. “Stone?”

“Petrified wood,” Waverly corrected softly. “Daddy got it for Willa when she was younger, but she never learned how to play. She said it was for losers and didn’t take it with her when she moved out with her boyfriend, so I adopted it.”

“How kind of you.” Nicole smiled. Waverly’s heart fluttered in her chest at how genuine Nicole sounded, like she’d truly done the chessboard a favor by taking it in. “Where’s your dad now?”

“Dead,” Waverly replied flatly. Her gaze flitted down to the checkerboard and scratched at a piece that was chipping off. It may have been varnished but it wasn’t indestructible and years of use with a hesitant (and more often than not, drunk) Wynonna had taken its toll. (The board always faintly smelled like whiskey, no matter how much wood cleaner she scrubbed it with.)

“Oh, Waves, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—”

Waverly shrugged and brushed her off with her hand. “Don’t be. It was…it was a really long time ago, and he wasn’t that much of a dad anyway.” Her throat cleared. “If you move to E5 you can take out my pawn.”

“Right.” Nicole’s hair swirled around her face for a moment as she glanced down. “But that—you’ll be able to take my queen if I do that?” She bit her lip and seemed to move a different piece at random, following it with an unsure shrug.

Waverly beamed. “Damn, Haught, you’re pretty and smart?”

“Huh?”

Waverly’s face instantly flushed red. “Oh—I didn’t—it was a joke because, you know, your last name, it’s Haught, and that joke was really out of line, I’m sorry.” Her hands twisted furiously in her lap. “Not that I didn’t think you weren’t smart before, because I do! You’re so smart and that isn’t even a little bit how I meant it.” Her mouth bobbed to find more words when Nicole’s hand reached over the board. She managed to knock over Waverly’s king and both bishops in the process, but suddenly her hands, warm and callused and soft and entirely perfect, were enveloping Waverly’s own over her lap and she was struggling to think correctly, much less give any sort of shit about the pieces lain to waste on the board.

“Waverly,” she said, and allowed the beginning of a grin to melt against the corners of her mouth. “It was a good joke.”

And then, the worst thing that could’ve possibly happened, happened.

Nicole winked, and Waverly was fairly positive her heart was beating so hard in her chest that it would burst through her lungs and swallow the chessboard completely. “And I think you’re in checkmate?”

Waverly blinked for a moment, processing. “What?”

“Checkmate. That’s what you say when you win, right?” Nicole made a noncommittal motion to the board and reset the pieces she’d upended with one hand, still holding Waverly’s with the other. “I think I won.”

“Yeah, okay, you managed to beat me, a regional winner, after your first time playing and—oh, holy shit.” Waverly’s eyes widened as she glanced down at the board. “That’s—no way.”

“What?” Nicole eyes were innocently wide and she immediately retracted her hands from Waverly’s, which suddenly felt uncomfortably cold again. “What’s wrong? Did I make an illegal play?”

“An illegal play—this is chess, not basketball, silly. But you actually beat me,” Waverly whispered. “I guess I must not have been paying attention.”

“Sure. Or, I’m an amazing chess player.”

“Oh, do not get cocky on me now, Haught. This was one mistake. You’re lucky you had me distracted.”

“Distracted, huh?” Nicole dipped her head. “Good to know, Earp. How about I make you a deal?” Waverly rocked back and motioned with her hand to continue. A cocky smirk had crafted its way over her face and was Nicole blushing? She took a heavy inhale before speaking again. “We play again. I get a kiss if I win.”

Waverly paled. “A kiss.” Had she heard her right?

“Just on the cheek. Nothing serious.” Nicole grinned playfully. “Unless you’re too chicken.”

“God, you’re a cliché.” Waverly cocked her head leaned forward again pensively. A kiss. That had to mean something, even if it was just on the cheek, right? Or did it mean nothing specifically because she had asked for it on the cheek? She very well could have asked for a peck on the lips, and that absolutely would’ve meant something, but the cheek. It was, for lack of a better word, frustratingly intriguing. “What about if I win?”

Nicole’s arms spread wide. “What do you want?”

“Anything?”

“Name your price.”

It was a powerful statement, and what she wanted , frankly, was to have Nicole pin her up against a wall and kiss her until her lips were numb. It was long since she had to stop denying that. But that was not the conversation at hand and was wildly inappropriate given Nicole’s request. “A story. I want a story.”

Nicole’s eyebrows narrowed in confusion. “A…a story?”

“A story,” Waverly confirmed. “Something from your life you’ve never told anyone else.”

Two could play at that game.

Nicole seemed to think for a moment before holding out her hand to shake Waverly’s. “A story it is.”

“You know, you’re being awfully cocky for someone who beat me by mistake.”

Nicole’s shrug was frighteningly nonchalant. “I’ll take my chances.”

 The kiss suggestion had been bold, but Nicole had decided as the first rule when moving to Purgatory that she was going to fuck decency. She’d toyed around a million times too many in Ontario with girls and the thought of her father’s sudden apparition back into the known and the words what if had slowly begun to eat her from the inside out.

It very well could have scared Waverly off, she knew, and there would have been little she could have done about it had it. But she’d made herself a promise, and thus she’d taken a deep breath and said, “I get a kiss if I win.”

Waverly had looked surprised, as expected, but mostly she’d looked curious. Maybe not the emotion she had been looking forward to the most, but she’d take it. (That, and Waverly’s curiosity face was beyond adorable.)

And then the whole idea with the story—she’d walked into that one and there was little chance she could wriggle out of it. She was an open book, for the most part. And the concept of sharing a story, and she knew exactly which one it had to be, was almost comforting in knowing that it would be with Waverly.

However, there was one hitch in her plan that kept her from telling it to Waverly in the first place.

She had no intention of losing.

Waverly realized she’d made a grave mistake about thirty seconds into the game with Nicole. What she had thought had been Nicole’s giddiness from somehow managing to scrape by a game of chess and win again Purgatory’s Finest had turned out to be something much, much deeper.

Nicole was not good at chess.

Nicole was excellent at chess.

Six moves in and Nicole had already managed to put her in check twice, only allowing her to scrape back into temporary safety if she forfeited a piece. Waverly chewed her lip in frustration as she glanced at the remaining pieces on the board. All she’d managed to take was one of Nicole’s pawns which she’d instantly learned had been a throwaway piece and had suffered one of her rooks for it.

“Maybe regionals should’ve widened their playing field.” Nicole grinned as her knight scooped up Waverly’s queen—from there it was another few moves and she was grinning wickedly as her king remained trapped. “To Ontario. Checkmate.”

Waverly’s jaw dropped. “You—you hussled me!”

Nicole’s grin didn’t falter; if anything, it broadened. Waverly wanted it to annoy her to no end, but instead found it entirely too endearingly and rather adorable. Damn pretty girls, and damn Nicole Haught in particular. “So? You pretended not to know how to change some damn washer fluid. I think this was within my right to pretend not to know how to play chess.”

“We weren’t betting on anything with the washer fluid, you asshole!” She leaned over and socked Nicole in the shoulder, who feigned hurt and collapsed backwards against Waverly’s pillows.

“Damn, Earp, you’ve got an arm on you! Must be all the cheerleading.” She shot Waverly a wicked grin and remained plastered against the pillows contentedly. “And besides, I thought we had a deal.” She tapped her cheek with her forefinger. “Chess games explained and all that.”

“No.” Waverly folded her arms over her chest and frowned. “That’s unfair. You hussled me. The bet’s off.”

“Nuh-uh, Waves. You’re not getting out of it that easily. We had a deal, fair and square.” The finger tapped again. “I’m waiting.”

With a huff, Waverly rolled from the bed and made her way over to kneel next to Nicole. She’d been in this same position with Champ under much different circumstances where he absolutely not been lying with his head buried in her pillows (also known as, The Instance Wynonna Would Never Let Her Forget), but something about kneeling in front of Nicole made her heart hammer angrily in her chest. Not the time to think about that, Earp.

“You’d better savor it,” Waverly hissed under her breath, barely audible, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to Nicole’s cheek.

Only it wasn’t Nicole’s cheek, because she’d turned to ask what Waverly had said when she had leaned in. It wasn’t quite dead center on her lips, but it was enough that Waverly’s eyes went wide and she jerked backwards to fall on her ass against the wood flooring.

An awkward silence hung in the air between them for a moment and Waverly could’ve sworn Nicole could hear the hammering in her own chest as wide eyes met those even wider. “Whoops,” Nicole whispered after a moment of her lips bobbing. Soft, perfect lips that Waverly had kissed. “That was super my bad. I was just gonna ask what you had said, and then you were—we—I.” She seemed unable to finish her sentence. “I’m sorry.”

Waverly tried to let as nonchalant of a smile as she could muster cover her lips. “No, its fine—it was an accident.”

“An accident,” Nicole repeated slowly. “I should—I should get going home now.” She stood slowly, legs shaky, Waverly noted with surprise, and made her way mechanically to the door. “Thanks, um. Thanks for dinner. And…chess.”

“Anytime,” Waverly gulped. When the door was closed she collapsed heavily against her mattress, face falling into her pillows.

And dear god, her bed smelled like Nicole.

Chapter Text

Took my money, then my heart
But I only cared for one
Took my love one year apart
I never cared about the funds
For the only thing you took
That I held dearly to myself
Was the beating heart you stole
And then placed up on your shelf
I don’t ever want it back
It always belonged to you, anyway

“So, a mechanic, huh?” Wynonna’s arm was wrapped protectively around Nicole’s elbow while she guided her through the hallway. Even after a week, the maze she managed to call high school seemed to shift with each passing night, rendering her useless to finding the majority of her classes. It was like the damn Labyrinth in there. “Like damn, if I was into girls I would be salivating over you like Waverly was yesterday.”

Nicole’s breath hitched in her throat. Waverly had been drooling over her? She made a mental note to bring that up with Wynonna later. “Yeah. My older sister had this ancient car when she first turned sixteen that used to be my dad’s old beater and she was determined to fix it up herself, so she taught me with her. And my uncle had an auto-shop anyway, so it sort of ran in the family to know all that kind of stuff.”

“You have an older sister? Does she look like you?” Wynonna motioned wildly to Nicole’s stark red hair.

Nicole shrugged. “Not really. She looks a lot like Amy Acker.”

“Is she as gay as you are?”

“I’m sure her husband would be rather upset if she were,” Nicole replied.

Wynonna cracked a grin. “See you for sixth, Haughtshit. Your class is around the hallway to the left. Have fun with that son of a bitch Cryderman. Remember, back row if possible. He’s a spitter.” Then she vanished into the mass of kids in the hallway.

 “Wynonna?”

“Hm?” Wynonna’s jacket was wrapped around the top half of her head to cover her eyes from the sun as her body stretched out in front of her in the bed of her truck. She’d claimed to have been napping for the past twenty minutes, but Nicole knew it was most likely reminiscent of a hangover.

Typical Wynonna.

“If I ask you something, you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“I absolutely will not promise that. Proceed.” The jacket stayed firmly wound around her head.

Nicole tsked. “What did you mean by Waverly salivating over me yesterday at the shop?”

Wynonna barked out a laugh. “What the fuck do you think I meant, Haughtshit? She looked like she was gonna come on the spot if you so much as said her name with the wrong inflection. It was borderline pornographic if you ask me.” Nicole made a face Wynonna was too wrapped up to see. Unfortunate. “However, speaking of yesterday, I can’t believe you nearly killed my sister with your car.”

“That’s not even a little what happened. Like, okay, yes, my lights were off, boo me, but she was walking in the middle of the road at night and I had no possible way of seeing her.”

“Except if you’ve had your lights on.”

“Whatever.”

“Honestly, though.” Wynonna sat up and pulled the jacket from around her head and shot a death glare up at the sun. “If Dolls hadn’t come to pick me up last second yesterday at the auto shop, I was pretty sure I was going to die of waiting on you two to sort your shit out in silence. Your uncle is hot but only in, like, a weird dad way. And he looks like you, which is extra weird, and no offense, does not get my motor running.”

“Wynonna!” Nicole slapped her arm. “Wait, what do you mean Dolls picked you up last second yesterday? I thought he asked you out for coffee?”

“Please,” Wynonna snorted. “The only way I could convince him to leave the gym and come get me off your hands was offering that I’d get him off, too. Clearly you and Waves had some shit to work out and I didn’t really want to get in between that. And now look! Happy as ever! I should be a goddamn couples therapist.”

“We’re not a couple! I’m telling Waverly that you lied.”

“No the fuck you’re not. Unless you want me to relay this whole ‘Waverly was drooling over me?’ conversation to her. I’ll lay on the details extra thick.” She shot her a wink and the sweetest grin she could muster.

Nicole frowned through her silence.

Waverly was quiet for the majority of the ride from the Homestead to practice. They’d made the ultimate decision to continue carpooling even after the truck ran smoothly again, and Nicole was hesitant to admit that picking Waverly up was wildly out of her way. She enjoyed it nonetheless and kept her mouth shut regarding the matter. “So, can I ask you something?” Nicole ventured hopefully.

Waverly grunted in a way Nicole assumed was a go-ahead. Good enough.

“Wynonna said a few days back that Willa’s boyfriend was the reason she failed senior year. Can you unpack that for me?”

Waverly’s eyes stayed pasted to the window for a moment; she’d been quiet ever since the accidental kiss and it was driving Nicole up a wall. Finally, after several moments of silence, she took a long sigh. “Robert Svane is Willa’s boyfriend. Fiancé. Whatever. I’m not really sure at this point.”

Nicole’s foot jumped against the gas in surprise. “What?”

“Yeah. Our older sister is dating the god damn principal of Purgatory High. Or engaged. Wynonna is convinced that Willa made Robert fail her last year to get back at her for—things. It’s stupid.” Her words came out as a snarl uttered between clenched teeth.

Okay, evidently scary Waverly was also hot Waverly. Who knew. Not the point, Haught.

“It’s bullshit, I think,” she continued. “Willa always liked Wynonna, almost as much as she liked Daddy. She was the only one who liked him, frankly. Willa and Daddy—two damn peas in a way-too-fucked-up pod.” She shook her head and her demeanor instantly changed, melting into something much less rigid. “I’m sorry. I keep doing this, where I unload and it gets all dark and heavy on you.”

“Waves.” Nicole unhitched one of her hands from the steering wheel to squeeze Waverly’s knee gently. “You’re never bothering me with any of that. We’re friends.” Her voice choked up a bit on the last word. “And I want to hear everything you have to say. About all of it. We’ve all got some secrets. It never hurts to let a few of them breathe every once in a while.”

“You’re a damn swindler is what you are, Nicole Haught.”

Nicole glanced over, ready to argue back, only to see Waverly smiling. She relaxed back against the seat. “And how do you figure that, Waverly Earp?”

“The whole chess situation? I was thinking about it. You said you didn’t know how to play chess before you found out that okay, yes, I may have lied about knowing how to change washer fluid.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point,” she continued. “Is that you pulled the same shit I did. You were gonna pretend not to know how to play chess either even before you knew about the washer fluid. So that’s why you’re a damn swindler.”

“Pretty sure you’re using that word wrong.”

Waverly harrumphed in response.

The school came into view, looming gray stone against a slowly dimming sky. Despite having only lived in Purgatory for a week as of that day, the weather was already changing from a suffocating heat to a cool afternoon she knew would soon fade into a harsh winter. Ontario hadn’t been much better; at least she got the four-season experience.

They sat in silence for another moment before Nicole ventured again. “Do you—do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“You know.” Nicole shifted uncomfortably and threw the car into park. She leaned back against the seat and regarded her counterpart. She looked exceptionally beautiful today, somehow, a cheerleading uniform hidden underneath a knee-length coat. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that reveal a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. A jawline Nicole wanted nothing more than to stroke with the pad of her thumb. “The kiss.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Waverly replied. Perhaps a bit too quickly. “It was an accident. That’s that.”

“Yeah.” Nicole tried to keep her voice as upbeat as it had been before. An accident—an accident was all Waverly saw it as. She hadn’t told Waverly that it was possibly the best accident that she could recall—an accident that made her heart thrash against her ribs and her cheeks take on a pink tint whenever she thought about it for longer than she should’ve. That she’d fallen asleep that night replaying it in her mind, over and over, until it was burned against back of her eyelids. That she wanted to do it again. “That’s that.”

“You and Waves, huh?” Rosita lofted a lopsided grin and jutted her chin towards Waverly across the gym. She looked entirely too focused for the fact that she was refilling her water bottle. Possibly even purposely avoiding Nicole, who was sending her glances every few minutes in hopes of catching her eye. “She’s a cutie. Good taste.”

“What?” Nicole instantly felt her face flush a heavy red. “There’s nothing going on between me and Waverly. I tutor her sister and give her rides to practice, that’s all.” She tossed the ball back to Rosita, who sank a three-pointer with ease and shrugged.

“Shapiro and I have a bet about who’s gonna make the first move, and it’s not on you, Haught.”

The blood that had surfaced on Nicole’s face drained almost immediately. “You and Eliza?”

“Well.” Rosita cocked her head to the side and allowed the ball to bounce back to her. “The whole team, actually, but we instigated it. You’ve got Chetri on your side, at least! But he’s also the only one on your side.”

“Jeremy isn’t even on the team.” Nicole frowned.

“Yeah, but he runs the scoreboard during games so we consider him an honorary Blue Devil. But seriously, Nic, it’s obvious. You guys make heart eyes at each all the time. It makes the Notebook look bleak.”

“Rosita!” Nicole snapped. Her gaze drifted back over to Waverly, who’s eyes immediately downturned as soon as she caught Nicole’s attention. “It’s not like that. We’re friends.”

“Are you now? Hey, Stephanie!” A blonde girl Nicole had spoken to maybe once since joining the team glanced up from running dribbling drills. She seemed more or less like an airhead whose main goal was to look good during games instead of actually doing any help. The only reason she’d managed to snag varsity was through kinship with Chrissy, and consequentially, Nedley. “You and Chris are friends, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she drawled. “Really good friends that have lots of sleepovers.” She winked.

“Seriously.” Rosita dropped her voice and brought herself close enough to hand the ball to Nicole. “This whole team loves you, Haughtshit, even though you put our point guard out of service because you’re too damn good at whatever position you take. That’s the only thing we hate about you. But the rest of it—the being gay and falling for Purgatory’s sweetheart, we’ve got your back. All of us. Besides.” Her eyes roamed over Waverly for a moment too long. Nicole’s palms clenched against her own will. “You picked the best one to fall for.”

Nicole’s heart swelled. Ontario hadn’t been cruel to her, but it hadn’t been the most accepting in the outskirts of where she’d gone to high school. Her car had been slushied three too many times after she came out and she hadn’t vocalized to her mother about exactly how terrified she was that the same thing would happen in Purgatory. (She rarely spoke to her mom these days. She had nothing against Nicole being gay, but she was convinced that Nicole’s coming out had brought a whole other onslaught of problems that she’d been too sensitive as of late to discuss.)

But other than the occasional douchebag littered throughout, she’d felt nothing but overwhelming support.

Maybe Waverly did give her heart eyes when she wasn’t looking. And maybe the damn heart palpitations she got whenever Waverly walked into the room were replicated.

Her mind flickered dangerously to the kiss. The accident.

Maybe, just maybe, she had a chance.

 “I can see you looking at Nicole when you think she’s not, you know. You’re not even, like, a little inconspicuous.”

Waverly frowned. “Am not! Looking at Nicole, I mean. Because…I’m not looking at her.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Yeah. And Wynonna’s probably sober right now. C’mon, Waves. I’m not sure what you’re afraid of. She’s sweet, charming, funny, hot as hell. Maybe I should just fucking date her.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Chrissy barked out a laugh. “Jesus, Waves, if you didn’t care so much that shit wouldn’t have bothered you. I’m straight, remember?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Waverly retorted. “If I recall correctly, it was your idea to practice making out in seventh grade.”

Chrissy frowned. “So? I’m excellent at it now. I guess I probably wouldn’t have suggested it if I knew you were going to turn out to be a raging bisexual who’s hopelessly in love with me.”

Waverly punched her in the arm. “Don’t flatter yourself, I have standards.”

“Damn, Earp!” A voice from behind her had her spinning on her heels. “Going in for the kill tonight.”

“Nicole!” Waverly squeaked. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough to start planning Chrissy’s funeral.” She grinned and slung her jersey over her shoulder. Sweat trickled from her collarbones into her cleavage. Her abdomen was out again, along with her entirely-too-defined set of ab muscles still coated in sweat from the workout. Waverly’s mouth watered.

“Yeah, hi Nicole.” Chrissy rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m gonna leave you two here while you both pretend you’re not flirting. Peace.” She sauntered away before Waverly could so much as shoot her a look.

“She seems nice,” Nicole ventured. “Very…forward.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Chrissy for you.” Waverly shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and looked anywhere that wasn’t Nicole’s stomach. “You should—you should probably get back to practice.”

“Right.” Nicole ducked her head. “I’ll talk to you after, I guess. Since, you know, I drive you home and all that.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” She turned back and jogged the rest of the way down the court. Waverly’s face turned red as she realized that the entirety of the basketball team had been staring at their encounter and practically dragged Nicole into a group huddle when she’d made her way down to the end.

Awesome.

“Babygirl,” Wynonna sang. Waverly shut the door to the Homestead behind her. This had to be good. “Something is coming up in a week.” Wynonna was surprisingly sober when she got home and sidled up to her, grabbing her hands. “And I bet you thought I would forget.”

Waverly smiled bitterly. “It’s not like I wouldn’t have a reason to. You did the past three years in a row.”

Wynonna nodded, unashamed, a grin still plastered over her face as she allowed Waverly to lead her upstairs and into her room where she delved herself of her cheerleading uniform and replaced it with a loose shirt and a pair of sweats. “You’re absolutely correct. But this one is so important. Eighteen! C’mon, aren’t you at least a little excited?”

“For what?” Waverly snapped. “Mama to forget to send me a card? Willa to visit only to tell me that I’m the reason she left? You to get drunk like you do every year?” She stopped herself and shook her head angrily. “No, Wynonna. I’m not excited. I haven’t been excited for my birthday since...since ever.”

Wynonna’s face immediately dropped. “You’re not the reason she left,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, well, try telling that to Ms. Daddy Was a Good Man.”

Wynonna seemed to think for a minute. The Homestead was quiet—typically it creaked and settled during all hours of the day, but even it seemed like it was holding its breath, waiting to hear the next response. “Just you and me this year, babygirl. No talk about Mama or Daddy or anyone else. I’ll make us dinner—” Waverly shot her a look. Wynonna cleared her throat. “And by that I mean I’ll order some chinese and we’ll sit and watch dumb chick flicks all night. Whatever you want.”

“Chick flicks are too grossly heterosexual for me.”

“Fine. Then we’ll watch Marvel movies or whatever. That nerdy shit I can’t stand but will tolerate to prove to you how much I love you as an act of good faith.”

“You’re such a giver.”

Wynonna winked.

The words had spilled out of Waverly’s mouth before she could stop herself. “Can Nicole come?” She busied herself with turning around instantly and fixing up the pillows on her bed to avoid the mocking she would absolutely receive if Wynonna saw the blush her cheeks adopted.

“Sure. Saturday. Don’t make any plans or anything. I’ll talk to Nicole about coming over and stuff. It’ll be fun.” Wynonna wrapped her arms around Waverly’s stomach and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “This year will be different, babygirl. I’m not going to be gone anymore.”

“Will you be done with drinking, too?”

“Don’t make requests you know I can’t fulfill. I’ll see you in the morning, cutie.” She bumped her head into Waverly’s and left, leaving Waverly’s heart feeling heavy against her ribs.

Chapter Text

Tell Aphrodite that I picked, I picked
Tell Aphrodite that this is it
No more searching, no more hiding
No more hunting, no more fighting
Tell Aphrodite, on the very verge
Of losing all my hope
I picked and frayed my rope
And through it all I found her

“Haught. What are your plans for Saturday? Very important shit coming up.” Wynonna wrapped her arm around Nicole’s elbow and steered her in the opposite direction of the library, where she’d been planning on sticking headphones in and drowning out the rest of the world to some heavy bass and angsty music.

Ever since the kiss with Waverly, she had a lot more to angst about than she realized.

It terrified her.

She couldn’t be the one to drag Waverly down into her mess of a family that she knew she absolutely would if she got too involved too quickly. It was bound to happen eventually, if the Earps stuck around as presently as they currently were, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to postpone it until her dad managed to fade back into wherever the fuck he’d been for the past two and a half years. Then maybe she could pretend it never happened and go back to drooling over Waverly during practice when she wasn’t looking.

“Saturday. Saturday.” She wracked her brain momentarily. “I mean, I have a few things here and there.”

“Well, cancel them. I’ve got more important shit that’s gonna take the day to orchestrate.”

Nicole frowned as they passed the door to the library and kept walking towards the doors leading to the senior lot. Wynonna, as usual, was insistent on ditching sixth period like it was her damn job. “What’s up?”

“It’s Waverly’s birthday, and she specifically requested to hang out with you.”

Nicole about tripped over her own feet. “What?”

“I’ve been a shitty sister and she’s had a shitty experience with birthdays so I decided this one is going to be different. I promised her a whole evening of chinese food and nerdy movies she likes for some reason and you.”

“Wynonna, that sounds so sweet—”

“Yeah, well, I lied through my fucking teeth, dude. Jesus, it’s like you don’t even know me.” Wynonna kicked the door to the parking lot open with a heeled boot and dragged Nicole through. The sun was warm but otherwise the air was starting to take on a frigid edge that had her wrapping her thin jacket closer around herself.

With the grace only Wynonna could muster, she hopped into the bed of the truck and patted it endearingly for Nicole to join. “Should I get her a gift?”

“Are you trying to seduce her?”

“No.” Yes.

Nicole kicked her boot over the wall and collapsed next to Wynonna. Her head plopped onto her lap and her legs kicked up to the side of the truck bed.

“Then you’re probably fine. My plan is my gift. Everyone else is already in on it, too, so I’m just gonna need you to agree.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“You know. Doc, Dolls, Jeremy. Rosita. The crew. And I definitely told them you’re coming already and Rosita made sure the rest of the basketball team knew so you couldn't pull some shitty excuse to get out of it.”

“Jesus, Wynonna.” Nicole shook her head. “What if I had plans? What then?”

“You do have plans, dumbass. With me and Waverly and Doc and Dolls—”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go, oh my god. I’ll tell Waves that I’m down for chinese and a movie. Now what’s the real plan?”

Wynonna grinned.

 The guitar was the first thing in her hands the moment she stumbled through the door after practice after an awkward goodbye hug with Waverly that felt stilted and cold in comparison to what it usually was. Waverly. Waverly.

Wynonna had said no gifts, and she was more than positive that any physical gift she tried to give Waverly would be rejected on the spot. She couldn’t reject a damn song, could she?

Paper after paper crumpled under her fist as each new chord jarred the inside of her head. It was never right, not how it was for Waverly. She deserved something more than anything Nicole was able to compose after a night of her teammates trying to slyly give her tips for impressing Waverly on Saturday.

She’d had to sock Rosita in the shoulder at one point for being that openly vulgar.

From across the court, it had looked like Waverly was receiving somewhat of the same treatment. She was nudged whenever Nicole so much as glanced her way, and it usually resulted in her face flushing bright red and turning around before they had a chance to make eye contact.

The drive home that night had been quieter than usual. Which normally would have worried her and sent her into silent fits of anxiety, but every time she glanced over, Waverly was smiling just the slightest and blushing furiously, and that seemed to dampen her nerves enough to keep her calm.

 Saturday rolled around too quickly for Nicole’s liking. Practices were becoming harder and harder as the first game of the season appeared around the corner which left her exhausted beyond belief. Waverly had started talking to her normally again the next day, thank god, cheerful quips about this and that that Nicole was typically too mesmerized to actually pay attention to.

Not that she didn’t want to listen—anything Waverly said was introspective to say the least, but she’d flash that perfect grin of hers halfway throughout the conversation or run her hands through her hair mindlessly and it was enough to send Nicole to her damn knees.

It was late afternoon by the time Nicole made it to the Homestead. Her mom had tried to make small-talk with her before she left, which was odd in and of itself and a thousand times more awkward. Shit that didn’t matter. How school was going. How her friends were. If she talked to anyone back in Ontario anymore.

She, as usual, was ostentatiously fascinated with how basketball was going and would change the subject any time Nicole brought up her guitar. Basketball is what gets you scholarships, sweetheart, she had murmured, then pressed a light kiss to the top of Nicole’s head. That guitar is getting old—you should retire it soon.

Nicole had tried not to think about it too much as she started her truck and peeled away.

“Waves, hey,” Nicole breathed. It took everything in her will not to up-down Waverly, who was wearing high-waisted blue skinny jeans and a see-through lace black top. She looked absolutely stunning.

If she’d been nervous before…

“Nicole!” Waverly looked elated. “Come in, come in!”

“Are Gus and Curtis here?”

“They took me out to breakfast this morning but told Wynonna and I to take the house to ourselves for the weekend. Wynonna is out picking up some chinese and a movie.”

“Huh.” Nicole tried her best to look nonchalant as she pretended to assume Wynonna was out on some errands. As if she didn’t actually know where the hell she was.

Jesus, she was nervous.

“Listen, hey, Waves.” She settled herself into the couch and accepted the soda Waverly offered her. “First of all, happy birthday.” Waverly beamed. “And second, I, uh, I got you something.”

Waverly’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Nicole, you didn’t have to—”

“Hush.” She dug around in her pocket for a moment before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and handing it over. “I didn’t—I mean, it didn’t cost anything, and I figured you’d protest if I told you I bought you something, plus I didn’t know what to get you, so I just. Here. The—I’d be happy to give you the rest of the gift tonight, if you’d let me. I can’t really do it right now since, you know, I don’t have my guitar or anything.” She laughed nervously.

Waverly’s eyes were still wide, scanning the lyrics Nicole had scribbled hastily across the page in small, blocky lettering. “Nicole,” she said softly. “This is beautiful.”

“It will be,” Nicole agreed. “But I still have to show it to you first in full—oof.”

Her breath was squeezed out of her lungs as Waverly surged forward and pulled her into a hug. “I love it,” she whispered into her ear. It sent shivers of electricity down her spine. “It’s perfect.” Then her lips were pressed against Nicole’s cheek so quickly and gently she thought that she may have imagined it and Waverly was pulling back, blushing furiously.

“Waves!” The front door creaked open for a second and Waverly was across the room before she could blink. “Will you come with me to pick out the movie from Redbox? I forgot which one you wanted. And I also forgot the chinese food.”

Waverly frowned. “You managed to forget both of them simultaneously? It’s not even that hard.”

“We are not here to discuss my flaws as a human being, Waverly,” Wynonna retorted. “Oh! Haughtshit! You’re here. Excellent. You can come with us, too.”

Redbox and forgotten chinese food, my ass, Nicole thought. She’d been wondering what excuse Wynonna was going to go with to get Waverly out of the house, and most of it relied on Nicole agreeing to go with. Anywhere you go, she’ll follow, Red, Wynonna had said casually. (Nicole had choked on her food and been lightheaded the rest of the day.) “Sure, yeah, let me just grab my coat,” she replied.

Waverly huffed in annoyment. “I can’t believe I trusted you to make the plans.” She wrapped her hands around Nicole’s arm and allowed herself to be lead away. The feel of Waverly’s fingers pressing into her bicep made her light-headed and weak in the knees, but now wasn’t the time to think about that.

Especially regarding where they were going. That was another kick in the box that she’d tight-lipped a smile through when Wynonna explained it to her.

 “Wynonna?”

“Hm?”

“You just passed the chinese place.”

“Sure did, babygirl,” Wynonna replied. Her hands adjusted on the steering wheel.

“We’re not getting chinese, are we?”

“Sure aren’t, babygirl.” Wynonna’s grin widened. Waverly’s seemed to recede even further from Nicole’s vantage point in the backseat.

“I probably should’ve known you were hiding something when you said you forgot the food. You’d sooner die than forget to pick up chinese.” She swiveled around in her seat. “Did you know about this?”

Nicole gave a small grin and shrugged. The pout Waverly returned her way was frustratingly endearing. She gave a huff and turned back around. “Alright, what gives, then? Where are we going?”

“So impatient,” Wynonna replied. “You’ll see in a few seconds.”

“What—oh my god.” Waverly’s whole demeanor changed from annoyed to suddenly tight and guarded. “Wynonna. Do not tell me we’re going to Pussy Willows.” Despite the rigidity of her voice, there was an underlying motif that Nicole hadn’t been expecting—excitement. Thank god. She felt her spine physically relax. She was sure it wasn’t the concept of Pussy Willows that had Waverly excited, per se, but what she hoped was the excitement of hanging out with Wynonna and Nicole.

The sun had started to dip behind the horizon by the time she parked, casting heavy shadows that would fade into night within a few minutes. “You’re eighteen, babygirl! It’s like a birthright. I’m not even into girls and this place gets my motor running, so I can only imagine how it’s going to go for you and Haughtpants.”

“Jesus,” Waverly muttered. She folded her arms around herself to try and conserve what little semblance of warmth she had left on the walk to the door, and it took less than a second of hesitation for Nicole to unwind her own jacket and wrap it over Waverly’s shoulders. Waverly leaned back against her unconsciously.

The thought of Waverly leaning up against her, content, warded off any thoughts Nicole might’ve had about her own dropping body temperature.

“There’s no way this isn’t illegal in some form. Our history teacher is at a stripper bar with six of his students. That’s got to violate at least a few laws,” Waverly said. She folded her arms over her chest. Doc tipped his hat and winked.

“We don’t mind,” Jeremy added hurriedly. The fact that half-naked women were dancing only a few feet from him seemed to entirely unphase him—he was practically salivating over Doc, who shot him a warm smile and tipped his hat again.

Jeremy looked like he was going to have a gay aneurysm.

Nicole, despite the fact that she was infatuated with Waverly, found her eyes wandering regardless. There was one dancer in the corner who seemed particularly fond of her, winking every time she caught Nicole looking.

Wynonna had wrapped her arm around Dolls’s bicep and lead them to a booth where she ordered a round and waived off everyone who offered to help pay. “Trust me, they don’t make me pay for drinks here,” she muttered. “I’m a goddamn legend.”

Rosita seemed in her element as much as any straight girl comfortable with her sexuality could be. She shot Nicole various amounts of winks that seemed more directed at Waverly than anything else along with shit-eating grins. The basketball team was absolutely going to be hearing about this, no doubt in full detail, if they weren’t already.

The thought would’ve once terrified Nicole down to her core, the concept of her relationship spiraling out of her own hands. It left her feeling moderately warm instead. Constant moving had left her unable to retain solid friendships for more than a few years; this year was different. Her eighteenth birthday a few months back had meant freedom in every sense of the word. And the basketball team was nice, all of them, even Stephanie Jones who tight-lipped a smile when Nicole said she was gay.

Fuck decency, she’d promised herself. Fuck whatever seemed to be holding her back from Waverly.

“Hey, Waves,” she shouted, leaning over. The music was loud and the bass was heavy—shouting was the only way to get through to her. Waverly turned from an animated conversation she’d been having with Jeremy involving the historical accuracy of ancient sumerian translation that they both looked more than happy to discuss. Her eyes lit up for a moment, then immediately dropped when Nicole felt a weight shift onto her lap.

The dancer from across the room had made her way over and straddled Nicole’s waist, grinding down against her. “Whoa!” Nicole shouted in surprise. Her hands found the dancer’s hips as they began to work against Nicole’s and she threw back her head and laughed as Wynonna began to cheer. Even Dolls looked giddy as he smiled and shook his head.

It didn’t mean anything.

A few empty shot glasses littered the table in front of him. Doc, however, had an entirely empty bottle of whiskey to show.

“I have a thing for redheads,” the dancer whispered as she took a fistful of hair and tilted Nicole’s head back. “I couldn’t help myself; apologize to your friend afterwards.”

Nicole gulped.

“I’m Aphrodite,” the dancer continued. She gave Nicole’s hair one last tug and shot her a wink before slinking off back to her corner.

“Holy fucking shit, dude!” Wynonna howled gleefully. She kicked Nicole’s foot under the table. “She gave the lap dance to the wrong fucking girl! Tell Aphrodite if she comes back over here that I specifically said not the redhead! Damn it! I even came here earlier before I got you guys to specifically pay her to gives Waves one!”

Nicole’s eyes were still, frankly, blown wide as she tried to process what had just happened. Her mind snapped back to what she’d been trying to say before she’d gotten a lap dance, and she turned to try to finish what she’d wanted to say to Waverly, only to freeze, eyes darting to everyone else in the booth.

Waverly was gone.

 Nicole was out of the booth before she was even quite sure what was happening. Her legs mechanically carried her to the bathroom which was empty save for one stall that had no noise coming from the other side. A pair of black boots paced side to side.

“Waverly?” Nicole ventured. The black boots stopped pacing immediately.

Slowly the door to the stall opened and Waverly poked her head out. Her eyes weren’t red, so she hadn’t been crying, but she had been hiding in the stall of the bathroom, so that presumably had to mean something. “Hey, Nic.” Her voice was quiet and drawn back.

“You doing okay in there?”

“What? Oh yeah, I was just…peeing.” She glanced around, as if just taking in where she was for the first time.

Nicole nodded slowly and put her hands in her pockets, rocking back on her heels. “With your pants still on.”

“I’m a woman of many talents,” Waverly replied quickly, a blush covering her cheeks.

“You are,” Nicole agreed. “Wanna join me out here? Hell of a lot cozier than a bathroom stall. You could tell me what’s actually going on, if you wanted. You vanished on all of us back there, birthday girl.”

“It’s nothing,” Waverly replied as she slipped out and closed the door behind her. “I just needed a break for a second.”

“And this break, it had nothing to do with the fact that I got a lapdance right next to you a few minutes ago? Which I guess was actually for you, if Wynonna slamming her boot into my shin was any indication.” Nicole’s heart threatened to burst through her ribcage and splatter against the bathroom floor, but she held herself still and forced a mask of confidence over her face. Fuck decency. Fuck decency. Fuck decency.

Waverly's fists tightened at her side as she glanced away. “No,” she muttered, and it was enough to send Nicole’s heart into a new fit of rage. She was jealous. Waverly Earp was god damn jealous. “I just—I want to go home now.” She moved to step forward, instead falling into Nicole’s outstretched arm.

“Waverly,” Nicole murmured. She felt Waverly’s stomach clench against her forearm. “We should talk about it.” The accident.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Nicole.” She removed herself from Nicole’s arm and disappeared from the bathroom. When Nicole had steeled herself over enough to leave as well, Waverly was already waiting in the car to leave.

“Said she felt sick.” Wynonna eyed Nicole cautiously as she gathered her belongings from the booth. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Nicole held up her hands in surrender. “I don’t think so.”

Wynonna seemed to study her for another moment, leaving Nicole to squirm under her gaze, until she turned on her heel and followed her sister out to the car.

Okay. Waverly Earp was jealous.

Something about seeing someone dance on Nicole, her Nicole, had made bile rise in the back of her throat. It was unfair, and not to her. She certainly didn’t own Nicole, nor did she own whatever was going on between the two of them that she’d failed to put word to.

The bathroom had been the first place she could think of to go before her legs had moved without her permission and she was pressing herself into a bathroom stall and locking it behind her.

Nicole had come in moments later with her soft words and softer voice, and guilt had burned in Waverly’s stomach like acid.

The Homestead was stilted and quiet, the silence only broken by the sound of the truck engine reverberating. Wynonna was out of the car before Waverly blinked, leaving her startlingly alone with Nicole, who looked awkward and out of place. “I’m gonna go,” Nicole said quietly, and pushed herself out of the car.

She’d made it to her truck before Waverly’s instincts had kicked in and she’d thrown herself out of her own truck and barrelled towards Nicole. “Hey,” she breathed. The window rolled down. “Nicole. I’m sorry. I keep doing this. I get—I get some way and I take it out on you and it’s not fair. It’s not fair and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I keep getting in the way and I’m sorry that I keep messing things up. You have every right to get a lapdance from whoever you want.” The last sentence was almost comical, and it had Nicole throwing her head back with laughter.

“Waves. You know, I never finished giving you the second half of your birthday present?”

“Stay,” Waverly breathed. Her fingers wrapped insistently around the frame of the door.

“I can’t. But come over tomorrow before practice, I’d be happy to give it to you then?”

Waverly nodded and pressed a kiss to Nicole’s cheek before she was entirely positive what she was doing, and then Nicole was grinning like an idiot. “Thank you, Nic. For everything.”

“Anytime, Waverly Earp,” Nicole replied, then the window was up and the car was peeling off the Homestead and disappearing into the stars.

Chapter Text

You used to scream at me to stay
Now you scream at me to go
Used to wish it all away
Only take me on the low
Used to wear a chain of pearls
Wound around your neck with glee
But all I think when you call me now is
Banshee, banshee

Nicole had finally cleared out her room enough to let Waverly in—there were still a few boxes here and there labeled with things like ‘Miscellaneous,’ a moderately sized box, ‘Basketball,’ which appeared to be the biggest box in the room and entirely unpacked, and next to it, an empty cardboard box overturned with the word ‘guitar stuff,’ scribbled upside down. The smallest box, Waverly noted.

“I thought we said this was going to be at my house?” Her fingers played gently at the guitar, blindly plucking at strings, entirely unaware of what she was doing.

“Yeah, but your house doesn’t have Calamity Jane,” Nicole cooed as her fingers stroked gently into orange fur snoring away on her lap. “You going to let me play you the song now or are you just gonna keep pretending you know what you’re doing?”

Waverly’s mouth dropped in faux-surprise. “So competitive,” she laughed.

“So cocky,” Nicole snapped back, tossing Calamity Jane onto the bed and wiggling her fingers for Waverly to hand it over. She heaved a sigh and relented before curling back up against the single pillow Nicole had at the head of the bed. Her voice lowered to a gentle hum. “You ready?”

Waverly curled her feet under her and nodded.

“Here we go,” Nicole murmured, more for herself than Waverly, and then her fingers began to work against the strings. Sweet, slow.

When the Sirens sang

Waverly felt something clench in her stomach at the sound. Her voice snaked around Waverly’s chest and squeezed, squeezed until she was sure her breath had abandoned her throat.

Sweet and slow,
Sweet and slow

Waverly’s head was spinning.

Tell me things I cannot know

Her heart had started to beat erratically in her chest to the point where she considered she might have been having an aneurysm. She couldn’t help that her eyes fell against the patterns Nicole’s fingers made, simultaneously so fast and so slow that just watching gave her the most delicious headache to try to follow their patterns.

Don’t you dare wish me well
If I’ve got it from here
There’s a beat in my heart
Whenever you’re near

When the Sirens sang
Sweet and slow,
Sweet and slow
They told me things I shouldn’t know

If the Sirens sing
To you once again
They’ll tell you that
I was never just your friend

It took a moment to realize Nicole had stopped playing and the rhythm had faded from somewhere in the guitar to something much more intrinsic; her heartbeat, perhaps, which had taken residence in the crook of her throat. Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment before Nicole whispered, “Waverly?”

It was slightly embarrassing for her to notice that her eyes had started watering, and she wiped at them furiously.

“Did…did you like it?”

“I…Nicole.” Waverly cleared her throat and continued to wipe hastily at her eyes. This was getting ridiculous. “You wrote that? Holy shit.” She hiccupped. “Of course you wrote that. I loved it, I loved it, holy shit. Yes, I fucking liked it, wow.”

Nicole ducked her head. “Well, tell me how you really feel.”

The guitar found a place amongst the jackets strewn about the floor Nicole had forgotten to pick up and Calamity Jane immediately regained her lap, nustling into Nicole and purring contentedly.

“Nicole. I want…” Waverly bit her lip and seemed to think for a moment. “We need to talk. About. The kiss. And everything else. Like the lapdance.”

“Yeah?” Nicole seemed to perk instantly.

“Well. Wynonna told me that the lapdance was supposed to be for me. She paid for it and everything. And so…it wasn’t fair for me to blow up on you the way I did. I shouldn’t have.” This could absolutely go one of two ways.

The way she wanted it to, and the way she needed it to.

The latter won out, her moral too tightly wound around her mind for any other standard. Damn it. “I like you, Nicole. But you’re graduating this year, and the nearest college is about a few hundred miles away and that’s not even a hyperbole and I’ll still be stuck here. Probably with Wynonna, assuming she fails senior year again. You’re honestly her only hope at this point.”

“Waves,” Nicole breathed, but Waverly held up her hand and continued.

“Whatever this is, it can’t be anything more than that. And maybe I’ve been reading this wrong and I’m about to embarrass the hell out of myself when I realize you don’t feel the same way, but—”

“Waves,” Nicole said, louder, and it was enough to make Waverly swallow her words and wait. Nicole didn’t seem to know where to go from there, so she swallowed gently and fisted her hand into Calamity, who rubbed up against it happily, unaware of the trauma. Waverly supposed she was rather busy being a cat. She swallowed and nodded, but the light had left her eyes. “Sure, Waverly. Whatever you want.”

 The five words had stuck in her throat like glue. Whatever you want had been the most stubborn to force past her lips, clinging to her tongue and her teeth in a desperate attempt to stay put. Painful.

So she’d swallowed down the lump in her throat and forced them out between teeth she hoped weren’t gritted and patted Waverly’s outstretched hand comfortingly. First and foremost she wanted Waverly to be happy, even if it meant sacrificing a bit of her own.

 51 Days Later

“Basketball is what gets you scholarships, sweetheart,” Nicole’s mother cooed from the kitchen. It had been almost two months since the school year had started and Nicole was still being bombarded with the thought. Basketball meant scholarships. Guitar playing was a hobby. She was more than willing to sacrifice dime to make sure Nicole had all the gear she needed, but all she’d ever provided for her guitar playing was not saying no when her father had offered to put her in lessons initially, save that Nicole payed for them.

“Have you considered that I might not want to go to college?” she called. Fantasizing about growing up had never exactly entailed college, and was now often starting to include another person alongside her, one she could almost picture if she tried hard enough. Short, brown hair, the most beautiful smile.

If only.

She remembered how Waverly had melted over a month and a half ago when she had played her the song she’d written for her birthday.  Not one of her better ones, maybe, as she’d written it on three hours of sleep and two Red Bulls the night before, but it was enough to make Waverly pretend she wasn’t crying.

Her friendship with Waverly had picked right back up from there, flirting between the lines and placidly ignoring everyone else’s jibes. It was a comfortable medium, an easy role that they’d sunk back into, and as long as it never went anywhere, it would be okay. If Waverly wanted to wait, then she would wait. If Waverly wanted nothing more than their pseudo-dating that she couldn’t quite put a name to that she’d shot down before it had even had a chance to thrive, then that was what it was.

Maybe she was a bit bitter about it.

She wanted to pretend like she had some semblance of control after what was going on, but it was a blatant lie and she knew it. Waverly steadfastly refused to even mention the kiss from chess anymore, and Nicole was far too polite to pry. At least, that was what she told herself to make an excuse for not pushing whenever Waverly would retreat back into her shell. The real answer was far too complicated;

She was helplessly in love with Waverly Earp.

“Nicole,” her mother snapped. “Is this about that girl? Waverly Earp? I know she’s a year younger than you.”

“No,” Nicole practically snarled. Her mother sighed and seemed to relent. Beth Haught knew when to fight her battles, and this was one she was not going to win.

“There’s a reason I’ve been putting you in basketball since you were little. You’re a good player, sweetheart, and I think that with a bit more push you could really go somewhere with it—”

Nicole’s laptop snapped shut with a resounding crack as she stuffed it into her backpack. “I’m not doing this right now.”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the court,” she replied sarcastically as she slung her book bag over her shoulder. “Gotta go find my push, right? Why don’t you go congratulate Hayley again for two Masters and see if that does it for you. Maybe tell dad to come back since I won’t be here for the next few hours.”

Her mother’s effort to call her back in was drowned out by the sound of the door shutting behind her and the rev of her truck as she peeled out of the driveway.

Her phone was ringing a few minutes later.

“Jesus,” she murmured. The car grunted angrily as she pulled over to the side of the road and reclined her seat all the way back. “Hey, Hayley.”

What the hell did you do? Mom sounded pissed as fuck when she called me. Like a goddamn banshee.

Nicole snorted. Hayley had always been on her side ever since Nicole’s mother had taken the liberty of blaming Nicole for her father’s absence. “I told her I didn’t want to go to college.”

Jesus, Nic.

“Well? I don’t. She’s all dead set on me getting a full ride to Stanford or wherever on a basketball scholarship and she shuts me down if any other option seems even a little bit plausible. Pretty sure she’d snap my guitar in half if it didn’t remind her of dad.” Nicole’s fingers rubbed circles over her forehead where a headache was starting to form.

Mom said something else, you know.

“Yeah,” Nicole sighed. “I know.”

You know she doesn’t think you’re the reason dad left. Her voice was half hearted. She didn’t actually believe it, either, and Nicole had long since given up on trying to convince herself or anyone else otherwise.

“She does, and I’ve grown accustomed to it. She’s not going to forgive me for something I didn’t do, and it’s whatever at this point. How’s Eli?”

You’re deflecting.

“What, a girl can’t ask about her nephew now without being targeted? Damn.”

Hm. Eli’s doing as good as a three year old can do, I guess. Get home safe, okay? I know you took that damn truck out driving. I love you, Nic.

“Love you too,” Nicole replied, then the line went dead and she relaxed back against the seat. Her fingers were pulling up her email before she was even aware of what was going on.

The only one in her inbox as of late was covered in blood, sticky against her hands, so much so that she couldn’t find a way to make herself delete it. It just hung in her inbox, opened and unanswered, as if waiting for a response that would never come.

Hey Nic. Simple. Sweet. I’m in town. Wanted to reach out and see if we could visit. Maybe over a coffee? Long overdue for a talk. Spoken as if he hadn’t spent the past two and a half years in prison. Like he’d been away voluntarily and had decided to scamper to Purgatory on a whim.

Love, dad.

“Hey. Waverly here?” Nicole’s head peered around the front door of the Homestead and past Wynonna, who look like she’d been in the middle of a nap. Her hair was fussed and messy against her shoulder, eyes screwed shut against the light seeping in.

“What the fuck are you doing here at this godforsaken hour, Haught?”

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Huh?” Wynonna cracked her eye and squinted past Nicole to see the trails of sunlight shirking over the mountains. “Oh. And I’m not sure, I’ve been—busy. What do you want?”

“I’m here!” a voice called from the back, and then golden sunlight was illuminating her and Nicole’s throat held her breath hostage. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy bun on the top of her head and a loose shirt hid curves Nicole knew would make her salivate if they were showing.

“Well let her in, damn it, you’re letting the heat out.” Waverly ushered Nicole inside and threw a scowl in Wynonna’s direction, who returned it and scampered back off down the hallway to resume sleeping.

Temperatures in Purgatory were beginning to hit freezing, so she was loathe to delve herself of her coat, even standing in the Homestead.

Waverly claimed they’d fixed the heating but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

Speaking of, she rummaged through the cupboards for a moment before hefting two mugs down. “Peppermint?”

“Huh?”

Waverly shook a carton of tea bags impatiently.

“Oh. Sure. Thanks.”

“So.” The kettle began to hum quietly against the back wall, steam fogging over the front of the microwave. “Not that I don’t love surprise visits and all that, but you seem a bit off.”

Nicole snorted and collapsed down onto a seat. Her hands folded in front of her. “I got into a fight with my mom. I wasn’t really sure where else to go for now.”

The kettle clicked.

The water was almost as hot as the situation Nicole had thrown herself into.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Nicole said, and realized it wasn’t even a little true—she wanted to spill everything to Waverly. Why her father left, how he ended up in prison, why her mother blamed her for his downfall—all of the shit that she couldn’t tell Waverly. Not if she wanted to retain whatever this was. Not without scaring Waverly off.

“Alright,” Waverly replied, cheerful as ever. She handed the mug to Nicole and wrapped her fingers around her own to trap the escaping heat. “I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Nicole’s ears perked of their own accord.

“But you’re going to think it’s stupid.” Waverly seemed to shrink back from her moment of boldness to hide behind her mug of tea.

“Please,” Nicole scoffed. Her hand snaked out to cover Waverly’s, thumb absently stroking her forefinger. “Try me.”

“The Halloween party tomorrow night. Stephanie is throwing it and it’s more or less tradition for all the high schoolers to go.”

“Hmm.” Nicole took a sip of her tea with her free hand and pretended to contemplate for a moment. “Seems very cliché.”

“It is cliché, you asshole,” Waverly hissed, swatting Nicole’s arm. “Which is exactly why I want to go. And I want you to come. The whole gang is going. Even Jeremy’s going—do you know how hard it is to make him put away his lab equipment for thirty seconds, much less agree to go to a party? I had to convince him I’d be his wingman for cute boys. I guess there’s some guy named Robin who's going to be there that he has a thing for.”

Nicole laughed. “I’m gonna have to pass on that.” She frowned at Waverly’s pout. “Oh come on, Waves! Loud music? A shit ton of people? Dancing? You know that isn’t my thing.”

“You’re gonna be a shit musician, then.”

“Ouch.” Nicole placed a hand over her heart. From anyone else she supposed it would’ve stung. From Waverly it just felt endearing.

“Yeah, that was a bit harsh. I take it back.”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Waverly’s blush was enough to make Nicole grin like an idiot for the rest of the day, even when the sun settled behind the mountains and her mother had seemingly retreated into her bedroom that night when she got home.

 Friday rolled around and passed monotonously, save for sixth period, which tradition had found Nicole with her head in Wynonna’s lap in the bed of her truck. “You going to that Halloween party tonight?” Nicole ventured after several moments of silence.

“Sure am. I heard from a rather distraught Waverly that you weren’t. You’ll be the only one at Purgatory High that isn’t.”

Nicole laughed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“You know it would make her happy, Haughtshit.”

Nicole rolled over and buried her face in Wynonna’s hip, grunting. “I know. I just really hate parties. They’re too loud, and drunk people are shits without morals, and everyone tries to goad you into drinking no matter how many times you tell them you won’t.”

“What do you have against drinking, anyway?” Wynonna’s voice took Nicole by surprise—it was the last thing from judgemental or harsh, only curious.

“If I tell you, you have to tell me what class you avoid so adamantly to come sit out here with me every sixth.”

Wynonna’s face went sour. It was a sore topic that she pried at constantly and was always shut down. “A girl can’t enjoy some time soaking up the sun?”

“You despise everything outdoors, Wynonna. I heard you yell at a tree the other day because you didn’t like the way it looked.”

“The leaves were threatening and I was drunk,” Wynonna grumbled, then relented. “Fine. Fine. It’s—I have fucking history during sixth, okay?”

“With Mr. Holliday? But you guys are friends.”

“We were more than friends, dipshit, as I’m sure Waverly’s let you in on by now. And most of the damn school found out. The crazy girl who conjured up demons had sex with a teacher and then failed her senior year of highschool. Stings a bit, don’t you think?” She moved to take a swig and frowned when she realized her hand was empty. Muscle memory, Nicole supposed. “He can fail me if he wants. But I can’t stand the looks people give him when I’m in class with him. Or the looks they give me.” She knocked her head back against the truck and nudged her leg to jostle Nicole’s head. “Your turn.”

Nicole shrugged. “My family has a drinking problem. I didn’t want to get caught up in it.”

“I just gave you some goddamn Shakespearean shit, Haught. You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I bet it is.”

“It’s my—” Jesus, Haught. Now or never. “My dad had a really bad drinking problem a few years ago. One night he drove drunk and killed someone. So now he’s in prison.” She bit her lip to keep from spewing why he’d been drunk in the first place.

Was, Nicole. He was in prison.

To her surprise, Wynonna snorted. “You and me aren’t so different after all, you know. My Daddy drank, too. Guess you landed on the right side of the bottle, though.”

“Waves said your dad is dead,” Nicole said, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Holy shit, Wynonna, that came out so fucking wrong, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to say at all. Holy shit.”

Wynonna’s leg tensed underneath Nicole’s head. “Is that what she said?”

“Wynonna—”

“It’s true. Dear Daddy is dead.” Her voice had gone rigid and unfeeling, eyes glazed over as she looked across at the school. “Dear Daddy is dead.”

 “Practice was good tonight,” Nicole ventured, sidling the car into reverse. Her hand brushed ever so slightly against Waverly’s shoulder when she moved to turn to see behind her and Waverly’s whole body jolted at the surge of electricity that ran down her spine. The brief skin to skin that had her heart thrumming.

Worse, somehow, was Nicole’s jawline, achingly defined as she glanced over her shoulder.

Waverly wasn’t sure whether she wanted to run the pad of her thumb across it or sink her teeth into it, but either way, she figured the message would get across. But that wasn’t how it could be with Nicole—not when she would move a thousand miles away in eight months and forget about Waverly entirely.

Instead she chose to fold her arms across her chest and slump against the seat, lower lip folding out in what she supposed could be considered a pout. “Okay, grumpy pants,” Nicole sighed as she pressed the car into first and lurched against the clutch. “Spill. What’s eating you?”

You, ideally, Waverly thought, then mentally slapped herself. She was supposed to be mad at Nicole, but faux-anger was hard to retain when she’d used the word grumpy pants.

“Ah. The silent treatment. Excellent,” Nicole continued, not a trace of malice behind her words. In fact, she was smiling. “Although it’s usually more Wynonna’s speed. The minute you find your voice is when she seems to lose hers.”

“Come to the Halloween party,” Waverly murmured, deepening her pout. She was pleased to note the way Nicole’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight. “Please.” The last word was syrupy sweet, unrelenting, and she was almost positive she’d cracked Nicole’s resolve, until Nicole’s shoulders slumped and she shook her head.

“I can’t, Waves. I’ve got a shitload of homework from Cryderman and Lucado—you’d think being her star player would mean she’d go easy on you in bio, but nope.”

Waverly snorted. “Try being her star player and an Earp. No wonder Wynonna drinks so much.”

“Aha!” Nicole laughed triumphantly. The truck seemed to rattle in content underneath her. “There you are. My Waverly is back.”

My Waverly. Her throat instantly went dry. Something about My Waverly seemed to fit so perfectly inside Nicole’s mouth, drawn with her tongue like an artist’s brush. My Waverly.

It took a solid thirty seconds to realize Nicole was still talking. “—and Doc assigned the seniors this end of year thesis which is bullshit because we’re only a few months in and he knows we’re all lazy.” She cleared her throat. “How about we hang out after tutoring tomorrow? It’s a Saturday.”

“I still think you should come to the party,” Waverly said, but she refused to let any malice slip through her teeth. Nicole was an academic savant before anything else if her test scores had any say in it. (Even Wynonna’s were improving. Gus refused to call it a miracle to Nicole’s face for fear of insulting her teaching, but she heard the giddy laughter at Wynonna’s test scores to Curtis when she thought no one else was around.)

At this point is was pure mockery, if only to get Nicole a little riled up.

“Waves.” Nicole’s voice was soft and warm as the truck shuddered to a stop at the Homestead. Her hand, calluses thick from what Waverly imagined had to be years of guitar playing, rested against the revealed bare skin of Waverly’s thigh. Maybe Nicole could feel that her body temperature rose eight thousand degrees at the contact. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nicole.” Waverly nodded her agreement and slid from the passenger seat of the truck, cheer bag slung over a shoulder. “Drive home safe.”

And then she disappeared into the Homestead, entirely oblivious to the longing look Nicole shot her as she left.

 The house was dark when Nicole got home, basketball bag hitting her hip with every other step. It hit the floor with a heavy clunk as she fiddled for the light switches. “Mom?” she called, without answer.

It wasn’t a surprise that she was most likely asleep, but it was odd to not leave a light on for when practice was over. Her fingers ghosted over the the wall again, desperate to find the light switch. Damn new houses and having to relearn outlets and switches every few years.

“Calamity Jane?” Nicole called.

As if the fucking cat would answer her.

Her fingers brushed against something cool and electric, and then the living room was flooded with light, and she stopped dead in her tracks, knees almost going out from underneath her.

“Surprise!” Two voices shouted from the couch, but only one of those was familiar, only one of those voices was allowed in her home.

On the couch sat her father, arms wide open to accept a hug.

Chapter Text

These hands are unsure
But god, are they steady
And these hands are so strong
But god, are they ready
And your hands are so small
Yet have never been weak
And your hands fit so well
In mine while we sleep

Nicole’s knees threatened to buckle on the spot at the sight of him, brown eyes sunken so far into his skull that it appeared almost inhuman, wisps of gray hair she knew was once hazelnut before his two and a half years in prison. The red hair was from her mother, and the only resemblance she’d received from her father were the deep chocolates of his irises.

She’d been envious of Hayley when she was younger, a mirror image of him when he had been her age. Now she wished even the eyes hadn’t carried over.

“Nicole.” His voice was not soft nor giving, but expectant, as if she would throw herself into his arms willingly. “I’m back.”

“Get out of my house,” was all she managed to whisper. Her hands tightened into a fist, curling over her car keys so tightly that the metal bit into the skin enough to bleed.

His gaze, plastered with a serpentine smile, seemed to falter for a moment before picking back up again. “Nicole,” he started again.

“You let him in here?” she interrupted, gaze flicking to her mother. Her voice cracked. “You let him into our house and didn’t tell me?”

“Nicole,” her father tried again. “My little girl—”

“Stop saying my name!” she shrieked. “I’m not your fucking little girl—fuck this.” She kicked her foot against her basketball bag and slid it up against the couch, spinning and yanking the door so hard the handle nearly broke off.

Her mother was on her feet now, hands out like one might approach a spooked animal. “Nicole, please calm down. I brought him here because he wanted to talk, and I thought it might be nice to see what he has to say—”

“What he has to say?” Her voice was raising to dangerous volumes by now as she shelided her body behind the oaken wood of the front door. Her eyes trained directly onto her father, his arms still outstretched tentatively, as if he’d forgotten to retract them in his confusion. “How about I say something instead? Fuck you.”

Then the door slammed so hard that it rattled the lamp sitting on the shoe cabinet and Nicole’s truck peeled off into the night.

 Waverly was drunk. Not enough to make Wynonna proud (they probably didn’t have enough alcohol at the party to make Wynonna proud), but enough that Waverly had begun to cling desperately to Chrissy like a lifeline up until she vanished in search of the bathroom moments ago.

She hadn’t meant to drink, but cheerleaders kept handing her vodka crans that she would sip absentmindedly until it was too late and she was dangerously close to being put on her ass.

“Waves! Waverly!” Jeremy bounded up to her with the exuberance of an excited puppy, Caprisuns clenched in both hands. “You said you’d be my wingwoman! And I am absolutely butchering my conversation with Robin. The only thing I could think of to start a conversation about was poplars. Freaking trees! Everyone knows trees are a third date topic!” He glanced down at her hands. “You’re drinking?”

Waverly spared herself a glance as well, eyes going wide. “Holy shit, I am. Take this from me. Don’ lemme have anymore.” Her voice was slurred and slow.

“As long as you help me get to first base with Robin tonight.” He set the drink down on the arm of the couch Waverly was leaning up again. “This is not good for my anxiety.”

“Yes.” Waverly shook her head to try and clear some of the fogginess. “Robin. Wingwoman. You got it.”

“I mean, you should flirt around too! Not with Robin, but I don’t know.” He shrugged noncommittally and handed her a Caprisun. “Have some water after you finish that.”

Waverly nodded and allowed herself to get pulled away, stumbling after him. The only person she wanted to flirt with was gone, presumably buried under piles of homework or playing guitar.

Her smile went dupey at the thought of Nicole playing guitar for her the first time she’d gone over to her house and then again when on her birthday. The song she’d written had been gorgeous that her drunken stooper kept her from remembering the name of.

Something about Sirens singing, she thought. When the Sirens Sang. Most of her historical knowledge stemmed from Sumerian or Latin, but she knew enough about Sirens to be flattered.

(Even if they did lure men to their deaths with the sounds of their voices. There had to be a compliment in there somewhere.)

I was never just your friend.

The piece of paper she’d scribbled the lyrics onto was buried under her pillows at home. Somehow it helped her sleep.

Jeremy had been feeding her information the whole route from the living room to the entryway of the house. She caught glimpses here and there—jazz history, vegan nachos, a hatred of the woods.

The door to the house opened as he steered her towards Robin and her legs stopped working, yanking Jeremy back before he yelped out a, “Hey!” in surprise. His gaze follows her own for a moment before realizing what he was seeing, shoulders slumping in defeat and moving on.

Nicole Haught had slunk through the doorway, eyes falling against Waverly’s. Waverly felt giddy. She came! She waved excitedly, motioning Nicole over before forgetting her talk with Jeremy about not drinking anymore and following some shots into the kitchen.

No sooner had Nicole stepped through the door of Stephanie Jones’s house than she was assaulted by Chrissy Nedley, who seemed like she was either wildly excited or slightly tipsy. A bass throbbed heavily throughout, intermittent groups of people lingering around. It was loud, louder than the sirens that had pulled up to her house that night three years ago, louder than the hushed whispers of her mother trying to tell her to go back to bed.

Louder than the sight of her father staggering away in handcuffs.

“I don’t drink when I know Waverly’s going to,” Chrissy answered, as if reading Nicole’s mind. “She’s the size of a pincushion, someone here has to keep her safe. God knows Wynonna’s too drunk to do it herself.”

“That’s nice,” Nicole replied absently, eyes trailing back to where she’d seen Waverly excitedly waving and motioning her over. She thought she had maybe seen Jeremy as well standing next to a boy with dark blond hair and a warm smile holding a beer he clearly had no idea what to do with. She’d seemingly vanished. “Have you seen her?”

“Nuh-uh. We’re talking first, Haught.”

“We are?”

“We are,” Chrissy confirmed, and put a beer in her hand before she had time to protest. She didn’t bother to open it and set in on the shelf next to her. “First of all, what is that costume, anyway?”

Nicole glanced down, still in shock from the assault, and noted the thin fleece she’d pulled over a basketball uniform. “Uh…a lesbian basketball player?” she ventured. Her shoulders went tight as Chrissy seemed to examine her for a moment before letting out a barking laugh and nodding.

“Jesus, you and Waves are perfect for eachother. This isn’t even a costume party, all the girls dressed up as sexy cats anyway.”

“Oh, we’re not together—,” Nicole started. She felt a tug on her wrist and followed Chrissy down the hallway to the kitchen.

“I’m the best friend, you think I don’t know all of that already? I know everything, Haught. Down to the goddamn color of your cat.”

“Don’t bring Calamity Jane into this.”

Chrissy shook her head and continued to drag Nicole into another room of the house. “You’re good to her.”

“She’s a cat with the body of a balloon. Everyone is good to her,” Nicole replied.

“No, you idiot. Waverly. I know she said that you two couldn’t be anything and I heard you were, and I quote, so fucking sweet about it, Chrissy.” Chrissy smiled. “I have eyes, Nicole. I know she says one thing. But she wants something else.”

“Where the fuck are you taking me,” Nicole hissed, placidly choosing to ignore what Chrissy had said for the sake of her own feelings. “We’ve been to three rooms already.”

“We’re trying to find Waverly,” she replied, and pressed into a closed door with enough force to pull Nicole into the room as well.

A room containing a topless Wynonna accompanied by a topless Dolls pressed up against the far wall. Wynonna spun and her face lit up. “Haught! Hello! Forgive the lack of shirts. But a bra though, look! Not technically indecent.”

“Hi, Wynonna,” Nicole replied, glancing anywhere that wasn’t Wynonna. “I’m gonna go now. You got the wrong Earp, Chrissy.”

“Tell me about it,” Chrissy replied.

“Waverly!” Wynonna slurred excitedly. She swayed against Dolls, who wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling over. “I love that kid! Tell her to text me when she gets home safe. But later. I’m rather busy.” She motioned to Dolls. “Please leave.”

“Yeah, bye, Wynonna,” Nicole replied. She shook Chrissy off her wrist and pushed her way through the door, closing it behind her.

And right into Waverly.

“You made it!” Waverly slurred excitedly. She draped her arms over Nicole’s shoulder and pressed her face against Nicole’s chest, already growing hot with the amount of bodies packed into the hallway. Not to mention Waverly’s outfit, because, frankly, damn.

A skintight black dress clung to her frame so well that Nicole thought she might as well have died then and there and ascended straight into gay heaven. Even wearing three inches heels she was still a few inches shorter than Nicole was and absolutely played it to her drunken advantage.

“Found her,” Chrissy said. “Keep your hands off her when she’s drunk.” And then she vanished, immune to Nicole’s calls that she would never touch her when she was intoxicated, and Waverly seemed to slump against her even more heavily. Instinct had her wrapping her hands around Waverly’s waist and pulling her in close to keep her from the mass of moving bodies that swarmed against her.

“S’hot,” Waverly slurred. “M’hot.”

“Alright, alright, let’s get you outside.” Waverly’s face was a bright red and getting worse and sweat had begun to bead against her brows. “Do you remember how much you had? You seem like you might be a bit of a lightweight, sweetheart.”

“Shh, no m’not. I’m like, six shots in. Not much.”

“Six? Jesus, Waves, have you had any water?”

Waverly pulled back and examined Nicole for a moment, eyes wide, before resting her head back against Nicole’s chest. “Jeremy gave me a Caprisun n’I drank the whole thing! Oh! Jeremy! S’pposed to—wingwoman. Cute boy named Robin.”

“I think he’s got it handled,” Nicole replied, and nudged her shoulder to where Jeremy had locked lips with the same dark blond boy in the corner of the living room. The kiss was slow, soft, and she was instantly ready to challenge anyone who tried to make an issue with something as beautiful as two teenage boys with unsure hands.

“Mm,” Waverly murmured. “Good for him. I wanna go home now. Don’t feel too good.”

“I’ll drive you. We’ll come back and get your truck tomorrow. C’mere.” She wrapped her fingers around Waverly’s wrist and pulled gently, gently, until she’d lead Waverly out from the hallway, the living room, and onto the front porch past a group of kids smoking and laughing. Doc was among them, a cigarette that looked hand-wrapped held loosely underneath his trademark mustache.

He seemed to be the focus of attention. Rosita stood among them without a cigarette and what had to be the skimpiest outfit Nicole had ever seen save for what Waverly was wearing. She must have been freezing. “Rosie,” Nicole nodded to her. Waverly waved giddily.

“Haughtstuff,” she returned as she sent a smile Waverly’s way to sate her. I’m telling the whole basketball team, she mouthed when Waverly had become preoccupied with one of the last remaining blooming flowers growing near the house

Nicole expected a flash of fear to rush through her stomach; instead she shot Rosie a genuine smile and laughed. Of course.

“Take care of her.” Rosita smiled and held up her beer in cheers before turning back to Doc, and Nicole was being pulled towards her truck.

“Buckle up.” She pulled herself into driver seat of the car after helping Waverly try to drunkenly get herself in. “Should we get Wynonna?”

“She’s got Dolls,” Waverly drawled. Her finger began to draw in the window as her breath created a steamy canvas. “He doesn’t really drink. I don’t drink!” She erupted into a fit of giggles and took her hand from the window. “I had a little bit tonight, though. Shh!”

“You secret is safe with me.” She pulled off the Jones’s property and onto the only highway in town. “If you’re going to puke I’d prefer you didn’t do it in my truck.”

“I’m n’Earp,” Waverly replied, then made a face as if she’d swallowed a lemon. “Earp-ish.” Her head lolled back against the seat. “Not gonna puke.”

“Alright, then I’m holding you to that.” She couldn’t help it—a grin had plastered itself over her lips. Drunk Waverly was downright adorable, enough that it made her heart physically ache. “Did you have a good time at the party?”

“You’re so pretty,” Waverly answered. Either she’d misheard Nicole’s question or she hadn’t cared, because she plowed right on despite Nicole’s face going a dark red. “When I saw you at school after you almost hit me with your truck, I wan’ed you to be gay so bad.”

“Yeah?” Nicole couldn’t hide the blush creeping over her cheeks. She expected Waverly to sober up and realize what she was saying, but the alcohol had fried her brain and more words poured out as well.

“Yeah! And then when I asked Wynonna if you were gay and she said yes, I got so happy!”

“Wait, that’s how you knew I was gay? You said it was because I wore flannels and Doc Martens!”

“Well? Those’er gay too!” Waverly giggled and went back to drawing on the window with her breath and finger. “And you’re so pretty, Nicole. So pretty.” The last sentence was spoken at barely a whisper, Waverly’s eyes intently focused on her window doodles.

The truck rattled up to the Homestead and Nicole killed the engine. The inside of the car was hot, or maybe it was just her; her skin was on fire underneath her fleece. “Come on, Waves, let me get you inside so I can drive home.”

Waverly followed, if not somewhat reluctantly, until the few steps leading up to the Homestead seemed to be her undoing. “Too tired,” she murmured.

“Jesus, you’re such a baby when you’re drunk. Here we go.” Nicole swept an arm under her shoulders and one under legs, and then she lifted Waverly up bridal style in one gentle motion and trudged her from the truck up to the porch.

If she’d paid enough attention, she would’ve noticed that Waverly had written waverly haught into the steam on the truck window.

“I thought you weren’ comin’ t’the party,” Waverly murmured. Her head lolled lazily as Nicole carried her. “But I’m so glad you did. I wan’ed to see you so bad.” Her fingers found the hem of Nicole’s tank top. “And you look really good, too. Really good.”

“Thanks, Waves,” Nicole squeaked out as Waverly’s fingers found the nape of her neck and began to play with the strands of hair she found there.

“You’re amazing, Nicole Haught,” Waverly slurred again. Nicole made her way through the front door and kicked it behind her with her foot. “You came to th’ party an’ drove me home an’ now you’re carrying me. You do everything right.”

Nicole laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well. Tell that to my mom. She thinks I’m the reason for my dad leaving.”

“What?” Waverly slurred. Her head bobbed drunkenly against Nicole’s shoulder as she began to climb the staircase. “But that’s dumb. You’re the reason I wanna stay.”

 “Waves hasn’t texted me and I couldn’t find her when I looked around earlier.” Wynonna had sobered up the moment Nicole had walked in with Chrissy Nedley in tow and Waverly hadn’t been with them. And if Chrissy was sober, that meant Waverly was drunk and on her own in a party with people like Chump Hardy who thought they had a right to her body because she was good looking and had given it to him before.

But then Nicole had said, You’ve got the wrong Earp, and it occurred to Wynonna that maybe they were looking for Waverly, and if there was one person she had grown to trust around her baby sister, it was Nicole goddamn Haught.

“Doc sent me a text, said Nicole was taking her home,” Dolls said. He pulled his shirt over his head and moved to rub her shoulder protectively. She leaned against his touch ever so slightly.

Wynonna Earp was not soft, but maybe for Xavier Dolls, she could be. Just a little bit.

“Hmm.” She shot one off to Nicole to thank her for driving her sister and tucked her phone into her back pocket. “I trust her.”

“She’s good for Waverly,” he agreed, and sat down next to her. Her head fit into the crook of his neck and her hands found his waist. Then, quieter, “And you’re good for me.”

“What about Shapiro?”

“Eliza? What about her?”

“Please.” Wynonna snorted and moved to look him in the eye. “You think I don’t notice the arm touches? She looks at you like a goddamn puppy, Dolls.”

“Hey.” His was voice smooth and sweet. “There is no Eliza and me.”

“Well.” Wynonna shuddered indignantly as she pulled her own shirt on. “It’s not like I would care if there was a you and Eliza. You can kiss whoever you want. You’re not my—”

“Wynonna.” He kissed her sweet and slow before pulling back and running the pad of his thumb over her jaw. “I don’t have to be anybody’s anything to know who I want.”

 Changing Waverly out of her skintight black dress had been the strongest form of self-restraint that Nicole Haught had ever made in her entire life. Initially when Waverly had complained that the dress was too tight Nicole had dug through her drawers until she found a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt she’d handed to Waverly and made to politely wait outside the door.

She’d made it all of three steps before Waverly had made a pathetic cry for help and Nicole had turned around to see her tangled up in her own dress, leaving a lacy black bra and a matching thong to go with it. “Nicole,” she whined, trying to wriggle herself out. “I’m stuck.”

“Okay, okay.” She bit her lip hard to keep her eyes from wandering and made staggering steps towards Waverly, desperate to keep her train of focus as PG as she possibly could. What she wouldn’t give to run her tongue over the ridges of Waverly’s abdomen—

The dress slid up and over, leaving Waverly achingly uncovered in the middle of her bedroom until Nicole cleared her throat and shoved her clothes at her before turning on her heel and power walking out of the room.

She was debating shoving ice cubes down her shorts when Waverly called that she was dressed and insisted Nicole come back. “I missed you,” she murmured, falling against Nicole and giggling as she did so, arms wrapping around Nicole’s neck.

“I was right outside the door.” Her hands fell to rest against Waverly’s hips and she was suddenly aware of how close Waverly was, hips pressed into hips and arms wrapped around her neck. “You’re drunk, Waves,” she whispered, but it was inevitable what came next.

“I am,” Waverly agreed, and then she pressed forward and connected her lips with Nicole’s.

Nicole’s brain short circuited for a moment, mind going blank and every muscle in her body tensing. Then Waverly’s lips were moving against hers and instinct kicked in. Her hands pressed harder into Waverly’s hips, nails finding purchase and pulling, pulling, until she was sure that Waverly was as close as she could possibly be.

Waverly tasted sweet like sugar and cranberries, and her hands had begun to fist against the bottom of Nicole’s hair, twirling her fingers through it with just enough pressure to drive Nicole insane. Then the taste of vodka flooded Nicole’s mouth and it occurred to her that Waverly was drunk, and she pulled herself away before her body could stop her and continue to do what it so desperately craved. “You’re drunk, Waves,” she repeated.

“And you’re still so pretty,” Waverly replied, her eyes already closing as she moved back in for another kiss. “And I wanted t’kiss you every day since chess.”

“Waverly,” Nicole chastised. She felt a pang of heartbreak crack her ribs at the sudden downfall of Waverly’s face, how utterly distraught she looked at the rejection. She slumped back off her tiptoes.

Every day since chess.

“But I couldn’t,” Waverly continued. She let Nicole lead her gently to the bed. “Because you’d break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t ever,” Nicole replied. She coaxed Waverly under the covers. “I wouldn’t ever do that. I think it’s time for me to go home now. I’m going to leave a cup of water on your nightstand. Try to drink that and sleep on your side.”

“No,” Waverly replied. Her fingers splayed against Nicole’s arm. “Stay.”

Nicole thought of her dad sitting on the couch at home, arms out for a hug he must’ve known he would never receive but had tried for anyway. Her mom, inviting him in. Thinking that anything he had to say had importance anymore. It took less than a moment of decision to whisper back, “Okay.”

Chapter Text

One, question everything you know
Two, stay tucked, knees in, keep low
Three, don’t ask, don’t tell,
Say that you’ve been doing well
Four, don’t you dare try to ignore
The pounding at your door
And last, should anyone stop and listen
Don’t you ever show these symptoms

“Morning, Waves,” Nicole murmured. Her fingers tightened around Waverly’s which had become intertwined with hers in her sleep. Waverly mmph ed into her pillow and rolled against Nicole. “Morning bonus blanket.”

“Not a bonus blanket,” Waverly murmured. Her hand reached up to stroke her forehead gently. “Head hurts.”

“Bit of a hangover, I imagine. Got you some water and advil, sleepyhead.”

Waverly cracked an eye to examine Nicole wrapped up under the blankets so only her head was poking out, eyes saggy with sleep and hair a red muffled mess. She looked absolutely adorable. “You came over this morning to check on me? That’s sweet.”

Nicole, who had been crinkling her nose with a smile, dropped into a frown. “What?”

“It was sweet of you to come check on me this morning. I imagine driving me home late and getting up early was no fun.” Waverly’s hands groped lazily for the bedside table until she found the pills and glass of water. She’d managed to swallow it all down before noticing the look on Nicole’s face and froze. “What? What did I say?”

Nicole’s hands fisted into the blanket as she moved into a sitting position. She noted, with surprise, that she was wearing an old shirt of hers that she’d stolen from Wynonna a few years ago. Her frown deepened. “So, you remember me driving you home?”

“I think?” Waverly rubbed her head against scrunched her eyes. “It’s fuzzy. If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

“It was me, it was me,” Nicole reassured her. “But, I just…you amaze me sometimes, you know? You remember me driving you home and then you wake up next to me in the bed and you assume I dropped you off, drove home, and then came back here in the morning to get in bed with you? You really can’t connect the dots?”

From anyone else, the words would have been dripping with malice and sarcasm, but from Nicole they sounded genuine and warm; a trait she found lovely to every extent of the word. “You stayed the night,” she whispered slowly. Her hands fidgeted with a string that had come loose in the quilt she’d wrapped herself up in.

“I did.” Nicole voice matched the volume of Waverly’s, soft and sweet. Her hands reached out to still Waverly’s fingers. “Slept like the dead, too, which was surprising after the kiss—oh. You don’t…you don’t remember that.” She could see Nicole’s face drop and what she imagined was a complete still of Nicole’s heart in her chest as the information registered.

“You kissed me last night?” Hardly more than her lips moving without sound.

Nicole shook her head slowly. “Well, no. Technically you kissed me.”

Waverly nodded, eyes wide. “Was…was it nice?”

To her surprise, Nicole burst out laughing, head thrown back. It was sudden, unexpected, and Waverly found a smile lighting up her own face as she did so. The absurdity of the situation. “Was it nice? Jesus, Waves.” She giggled some more. Nicole Haught was giggling. “Yeah, it was nice. But you were drunk and I—I couldn’t kiss you when you were drunk because, you know, you were drunk and I wasn’t really sure if that was what you wanted.”

Waverly nodded slowly along as the information processed. She’d kissed Nicole fucking Haught and she couldn’t even remember it. “Did you kiss me back?”

Nicole’s face went red and she ducked into her shoulder. “I did for a second. But you were drunk, Waves, so drunk, and I would never take advantage of you like that if I didn’t have your explicit consent and—”

Waverly was surprised Nicole hadn’t been expecting it, frankly, her swooping in and pressing her lips to Nicole’s again. She made a noise in the back of her throat but instantly sank into her, tongue running against her upper lips as her teeth worked against her lower. Nicole’s hand found the back of Waverly’s neck and pulled her in closer, closer, until Waverly pulled back and rested her forehead against Nicole’s.

“What was that?” Nicole panted. Her lips were outturned and Waverly pressed a peck to them before she could stop herself.

“That,” Waverly replied, her voice in a similar breathy state, “was so I could remember it, too.” Her fingers splayed out gently against Nicole’s thighs and tightened ever so slightly. There was a pause, and then, “You came to the party last night?”

“If you make me connect the dots for you one more time—”

“No, no, I mean. You came to the party last night. Another fight with your mom? You were pretty adamant about not coming.”

“Hmm. Why don’t we kiss some more and talk about this later?” Nicole leaned forward, eyes closing, only to be met with Waverly’s finger against her lips. It took all of her physical strength not to comply, to sink into Nicole until she forgot her own name and kiss her until her lips were numb.

Thank god for drunk Waverly acting on what she was too scared to do. “You owe me a story, Nicole Haught. You’ve owed it to me ever since you cheated at chess. And now I’m cashing in.”

Nicole took a hefty sigh and pulled her knees up to her chest. A heavy silence lingered for a moment in anticipation before Nicole blew a strand out hair out of her face and relented. “I got into a fight with my mom, yeah.”

Waverly blinked expectantly and waited.

“And…and my dad.” A more generous audience would have considered Nicole’s voice a whisper.

“I thought your dad was in prison?”

“How did you know that?”

“Wynonna’s terrible at keeping secrets when she’s drunk.” She paused and wrapped her hands around Nicole’s. “I’m sorry. I should’ve waited until you told me to bring it up.”

Nicole waved her hand and looked away. “I got into a huge fight on Thursday with my mom. My relationship with her is…complicated. She’s all dead set on me going to college with a basketball scholarship and couldn’t give less of a shit about me playing guitar. So I left, and I told her that she should invite my dad over for a few hours because I would be gone.”

“So you came over because you got into a fight with your mom about going to college?”

“Hush, I’m getting there. And yeah, my dad was in prison. I guess he got out a few weeks ago and decided he wanted to pay me a visit. I imagine Wynonna told you why he was in prison?” Waverly nodded solemnly. “Right. He sent me an email a few days ago saying we should meet up over coffee or some other bullshit like that, but I never responded to it. I didn’t want to see him again, not after what he did. Why he did it. And then last night after practice I came home and the whole house was dark and when I turned on the lights, he was there. Just sitting on the couch, with his arms open, waiting for a hug. Like that goddamn son of a bitch actually thought he would get one.” Nicole hastily wiped away a tear and sniffled.

“He just kept saying my name, he didn’t try to offer an apology or anything. Like, it was like he thought I would just throw myself into his arms when I saw him again.” She shook her head. “You were the first person I could think to come to. So, the Halloween party it was.” Her hands splayed wide. “And now I’m here.”

“And that’s why you don’t drink,” Waverly finished.

Nicole shrugged. “Symptoms of a survivor, I guess.”

“And—why he drank?”

She could see Nicole steel herself over. “I realized I was gay when I was fifteen, and I didn’t tell him because I knew he would react poorly.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and looked up to staunch another onslaught of tears Waverly was sure was coming. “He walked in on me with my girlfriend at the time, Shae, when we lived in Ontario, flipped his shit, lost his mind, the whole nine yards. Asking me what he did wrong as a parent. And then he started drinking, more and more each night, until…” She trailed off and shrugged. “I guess he was coming home from the bar one night absolutely plastered and hit someone. Killed them instantly. There wasn’t really much of a trial because he had no choice but to plead guilty.”

“Nicole…”

Nicole held up her hand. She had gathered momentum and there was little chance of her stopping now. “My mom never forgave him, of course, but she never really forgave me either. She blames me for him leaving. She won’t tell me that she does, but I know it. And she loves me and accepts me for who I am, but deep down, she blames me. The only reason she doesn’t smash that damn guitar to pieces is because it reminds her of him. So seeing him at the house yesterday completely blindsided me. You can’t really forgive someone for something like that.” She wiped at the tears against she inhaled. “Guess it was about my turn to infodump on you while it got all dark and heavy, huh?”

Waverly hiccup-laughed. “Jesus, Nic. I’m not really sure sorry covers it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. But there. Open book, tattered covers. There it is.” Nicole took another deep breath.

My Waverly.

“You’re the best story I’ve ever read, Nicole,” Waverly whispered. Her thumb raised of its own accord and began to stroke Nicole’s cheek gently. “When you wrote that song about me, I—”

“I’m not going to college, Waverly,” Nicole interrupted.  “I’ve never wanted to go to college. Four years of high school is bullshit enough. And I would never, ever, break your heart.”

Waverly cocked her head in question.

“Last night. After we kissed. You said you wanted to kiss every day since chess, but we couldn’t because I would break your heart. I wouldn’t do that, I wouldn’t ever.”

“God.” Waverly wiped at her own eyes. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Okay, maybe I said that wrong.”

Waverly’s head dipped as she laughed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Nicole Haught.”

“You could kiss me again, for starters.”

The kiss was slow and Waverly melted into, until a thought crossed her mind and she pulled back. “You have—you have a tattoo.” Her eyes drifted to where Nicole’s shirt had ridden up at and there it was, scrawled across her lower ribcage in beautiful black ink.

make your peace

“Oh…” Nicole glanced down and did a double take, as if she hadn’t realized herself. “I…do.”

Waverly’s fingers traced over it gently. “What does it mean?”

“I got it when my dad went to prison. Never told my mom about it or anything, she would’ve killed me.” She gave a half-assed laugh and craned her head to see it better. “I had to make my peace with what I was given. It seemed a lot more poetic when I was an emotional teenager with separation anxiety.”

Waverly laughed and cupped it against her hand before nuzzling her nose into the juncture of Nicole’s neck and shoulder. “I think it’s beautiful. I think…I think you’re beautiful.”

Nicole blushed.

“So you’re not going to college. Then what are you doing after you graduate?”

“I don’t know.” Nicole shook her head. “I really don’t know.”

 Wynonna had decided to tail her for some reason when Nicole left for tutoring—not that she minded so much. The thought of her father still sitting in the couch eighteen hours later, while unlikely, had etched itself into her mind and was loathe to leave.

She had gotten that text from her mom, after all.

Wynonna hadn’t exactly specified why she was coming along, but Nicole hadn’t begged the question and accepted it noiselessly and without complaint.

At least she had interesting company.

She wanted nothing more than to spew about the kiss to Wynonna, to tell her that she’d been right all along—that she had been flirting and Waves had been drooling, all of it, but she bit her tongue before she could. Something about it seemed like it was Waverly’s story to tell, not hers.

She wasn’t sure what she and Waves were, but they’d spent the rest of the morning dozing in between bouts of kisses and placidly ignoring their phones until Waverly had realized the time and made Nicole sneak out through the back window to pretend to come in the front door for tutoring.

As if she hadn’t spent the better half of the morning with Waverly’s lips pulled between her own.

Of course, being Wynonna, she’d managed to pry the same story from Nicole’s lips on the car ride over that she’d fed to Waverly. Her father, his sudden apparition, all the way down to her reasoning behind her arrival at the party. All of it. (Except the kiss—she’d omitted that and replaced it with dropping Waverly off and coming back the next morning for tutoring. No need to get into the details.)

It was like a thousand pounds had been lifted off her chest to tell her. She was no longer harboring this heavy chest of secrets.

If only Wynonna would reveal hers.

The house was quiet when she got home and the cars were gone, which probably meant she was safe from her father. She’d sent her mom a clipped text confirming that she was still alive and had stayed the night at a friend’s house; it hadn’t placated her mother, who insisted she came home and talked about it. Dad’s gone, we really need to talk, had been the initial text that had prompted Nicole to try venturing home in the first place.

“I’ve never actually been here before,” Wynonna said. “Do I light the sage now or when we actually get to your room?”

“Ha ha, Wynonna, very funny,” Nicole murmured, but her eyes were trained forward, ears perked. Something felt off; the silence was too loud, the darkness too bright. A piece of stray wood splintered under her foot as she stepped over the threshold of the house, and the resounding crack made her flinch.

The next steps were quiet, reserved, until she was met with the heavy frame of her door, closed to veil the unkempt clutter of her room beyond.

This is where the feeling had been coming from, this unnatural sense of displacement. It seemed to radiate from somewhere behind the door, and Nicole was almost too scared to open it.

She was quick to brush the feeling off, chiding herself, until she pushed it open and her knees threatened to give underneath her.

Wood splinters identical to the one she’d crushed underfoot lay scattered across her floor, strewn haphazardly.

Her guitar had been smashed.

Chapter Text

No hatred in these bones
Only hatred in these homes
I’m not sure what I like
But I’m sure that it’s her
Hate me or not but
I’m sure that I’m sure

“Nicole?”

She seemed frozen in place, eyes glued on the shattered fragments of her guitar. Even her breath had frozen into her throat, until she shifted mechanically and ran her fingers through her hair to give her scalp a light tug. Pull her back to reality.

“Nicole, it’ll be okay—” Wynonna started again. Her hand brushed comfortingly against Nicole’s shoulder, who didn’t even register the act.

“Holy shit,” Nicole laughed, and then a grin split her face in two. Demonic, possessive. Relieved. “He actually fucking did it. Holy fucking shit.”

“Nicole?” Wynonna asked uncertainty. She took a step closer. She’d dealt with an unstable alcoholic father for the first thirteen years of her life; Nicole would be a picnic if she lost her mind.

In answer, Nicole threw her head back and howled. “He used to—god, he used to threaten to do it all the time if I didn’t stop being gay, and—I can’t believe he actually did it.” She laughed harder, keeling over with her hand over her stomach. Tears began to form at the apex of her eyelids. “He actually fucking did it.”

“You’re borderlining psycho,” Wynonna warned. Her hands snaked over Nicole’s shoulders. Just in case. “Why don’t we sit down for a sec and take a breather?”

“No, Wynonna, you don’t understand.” Nicole took a heavy breath and wiped a loose tear from her eye. She grinned harder. “He—it’s his guitar. It was his guitar, and it’s gone now, and I—I’m so fucking happy, Wynonna!”

“You seem unstable.”

“Listen.” The grin splitting her face had melted into something much lighter. No longer the harsh undertones of malice, but rather contentment. She turned and clapped both hands over Wynonna’s shoulders, presumably to steady herself. “You have to let me be the crazy one, just for a bit. It’s my turn.”

“Haught. Your guitar was shattered. That shit is splintered on the ground and you’re honestly telling me right now that you don’t feel anything?”

“Have you been listening? Of course I feel something. Ten pounds lighter, god, like I exfoliated my fucking mind.”

“You wanted your guitar destroyed?”

“No, no, I—” Nicole took a deep breath. “It was never my guitar. And I didn’t realize it until now; it was the last thing he held over me. We got rid of all of his things—his clothes, his car, all of it—but this, this I couldn’t bear to lose, and neither could my mom. It was like her last little lifeline of his that she couldn’t bear to part with and I was always torn about what to do with it—I mean, he did the hard labor. He took the choice away from me.”

Okay. It made a bit of sense.

“You’re fucking crazy, Haught. Almost as crazy as me.” Nicole looked over, eyes slightly widened in surprise. Her lips twitched with a grin. “It’s why we make such a good team.”

 “Nicole?”

She’d swept the pieces into dustpan and tossed them into the firepit outside, dousing them in kerosene and lighting them for good measure while she was at it. Burning shit was the cardinal rule of demon banishing, and she wasn’t taking any chances. He was out of prison and couldn’t technically be arrested for destroying his own property.

She’d seen the last of him, hadn't she?

Her mother’s words cut through her thoughts like glass and she let the broom hit the floor with a clatter. “Nicole?” she called again, and the moment she emerged from her room, Beth Haught was smothering her in a hug. Car keys from her mother’s hand dug painfully into her back, but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

Nicole supposed she should have been furious with her mother, but being angry was exhausting. Losing a parent was exhausting, and she was damn well not about to lose another. “Nicole! Dear god, I was so worried when you left and you weren’t responding to my texts or calls, I didn’t know where you were or whether or not you were alive or if you were with someone and I—God, you had me worried sick.”

“Mom,” Nicole started, but it was quickly drowned out.

“I never, never meant for it to happen like that and I didn’t even consider what you would’ve thought about it, and then he reached out to me and said he wanted to surprise you with a visit home and I didn’t even think about the fact that you wouldn’t want to see him and I cannot apologize enough. I did that, I let him into this home and he’s never coming back, sweetheart, he’s gone and if you never forgive me I understand—”

“Mom.” Nicole took a deep breath. All of her anger was burning holes in her stomach; she was tired of it. “I forgive you.” Sure, there were a lot of residual feelings left behind—the two and a half years of isolation, the lack of support for what had been splintered upstairs in her bedroom and now was nothing more than charred remains out back, but wounds healed over time. Not now, god, probably not for a few years.

But it was enough, for now, to stitch them up and wait for the cuts to close. She was tired of the sitting up at night, sobbing into her pillow. The strained memory of her father downing beer after beer, shooting her looks of disdain whenever she came home from practice.

No, there was no hatred in these bones, she decided. Not anymore.

 With the money she’d managed to scrape by from Gus’s tips with tutoring and helping her uncle out at the shop, she was able to pull together enough to get a guitar. It was a beater for sure, nothing fancy, but after she’d resanded and varnished it, it was hers, and she couldn’t have been happier. It slipped out of tune every few hours and always rattled a bit whenever she played a minor chord, but it got the job done and it fit in her old case.

The harsh autumn wind bit into her face as she made her way across the driveway to the truck. She tossed the guitar into the backseat and revved the engine, thankful for the chance to escape the cold. The tips of her fingers and her nose were almost the color of her hair and her lips felt numb, which wasn’t particularly ideal for what she planned on doing, but it would have to work.

Ten minutes later and she was pulling up to the door of the Homestead, guitar slung over her shoulder and hands shoved as far down into her pockets as possible to ward off the cold.

The truck was parked near the barn, which presumably meant Wynonna and her Not Boyfriend Dolls has retrieved it sometime in between the party Friday night and that frigid Sunday afternoon.

Saturday had been something else entirely; sleepy kisses and sweet nothings whispered against soft necks, limbs and fingers intertwined. Home.

Waverly’s eyes widened in surprise when she answered the door. “Nicole!” She squeaked happily. Her hands wrapped around Nicole’s shoulders and ushered her inside then immediately set about to putting on the kettle. “God, you must’ve been freezing out there!”

“I was cold,” Nicole admitted. She let her guitar drop to her elbow before settling it gently on the floor.

“Wynonna told me what happened to your guitar.” She waved nonchalantly at the case leaning against the couch and frowned. “Did you bring the pieces over?”

“What? No! No, it’s—I got a new guitar. Well, not new, really, it’s a super old beater that probably saw the fall of Rome and all that, but it’s something. I was able to scrape together enough with the tips Gus was generous enough to give me. I keep a ‘hell-outta-Purgatory’ fund, but I always put the tips to the side. Guess future me had good hindsight.”

“That’s amazing, really,” Waverly smiled. She moved forward to wrap her arms around Nicole’s waist and looked up expectantly.

“So, I was wondering. Is Wynonna home?”

“What?” Waverly’s face fell, and Nicole supposed it might be cruel, what she was doing, but seeing Waverly pout had to be the most adorable thing she’d seen since Calamity Jane had gotten herself trapped between the screen door and the back door at her last house. “No, she left with Dolls an hour ago, but she didn’t tell me where she was going. Something super secretive, I guess. You can wait here, if you want, until she gets back.” She moved to pull away.

“No, it’s good,” Nicole replied, and locked her arms around Waverly’s waist to keep her in place. If anything, she pulled her closer, closer, until their hips were pressed up against each other’s and her breath was hitching in her throat. “I didn’t want Wynonna to be here. If she was, I couldn’t do this.”

Her fingers found the underside of Waverly’s chin and tilted until her lips, soft and smooth and perfect, were pressing against Nicole’s own. The floor creaked softly as Waverly raised herself onto her toes and wrapped her elbows around Nicole’s neck. She hummed softly into the kiss until Nicole was drowning, gasping for air as her body remembered to breathe.

“It wasn’t even that intense of a kiss.” Waverly pulled back a fraction of an inch and laughed as her forehead pressed into Nicole’s. “You need to relax, baby.”

“I—sorry, you’re just…you’re fucking perfect, Waves, I…” Nicole’s hands flailed in answer for a moment before resettling on Waverly’s hips and pulling them against her own. “I wanted…to show you something. The…”

She hasn’t been aware of how hard forming a coherent train of thought would be after making out with Waverly Earp.

“Guitar,” she finally managed, and laughed pitifully at her own discretion. “But you distracted me.”

“It’s probably my turn,” Waverly whispered. Her lips brushed against Nicole’s for only a second before she pulled away again. A jolt of electricity threw Nicole’s spine rigid. “Come up to my room and you can show me whatever you want, baby.”

She allowed Waverly to tug against her wrist towards the staircase, up through the bedroom door, and two outfits dropped to the floor could attest to the fact that Nicole’s guitar never made it up with them.

 “You were out late. With Dolls,” Waverly sang. Her hands encircled a cup of tea that she held close to her mouth, as if she was halfway through trying to take a sip and forgot.

“Sure was, babygirl. I’m going to bed.” Wynonna shut the front door and slunk past her with a refined sort of grace, only to be met with Waverly’s outstretched arm.

“Not getting outta this one. Sit down.”

Wynonna wrinkled her nose but evidently knew to pick her battles. “Fine.”

“You were gone early and you were out late. What were you up to, huh?” Waverly relinquished her grip on her mug long enough to prod Wynonna in the ribs, who swatted at her hand.

“We were busy,” Wynonna replied. “Pretty sure you don’t wanna know the juicy details. And trust me, babygirl, I do mean juicy.”

“Stop trying to scare me off. Even I know you can’t last thirteen hours in bed. Where were you really?”

Wynonna had to give her credit for persistence; Waverly usually relented after one sex joke.

“I told you, we were out. Doing things. And stuff. Nothing to concern yourself with. Is this interrogation over?”

Waverly’s nails tapped against the mug for a moment placidly before she sighed. “I love you, Wynonna, and I know you love him. I just wish you’d stop dancing around the question and tell him what you really want.”

“What I want?” Wynonna barked out a laugh. “How about what you want, babygirl? However bad it is with me and Dolls, I know for a fact that it’s ten times worse watching you and Nicole try to scoot around each other.”

Waverly’s ears went red.

“Honestly, you two need to stop eyefucking and get a room, for real.”

The hickey Nicole had sucked into Waverly’s inner thigh earlier that afternoon seemed to howl with irony. “Nicole and I—” she started, but Wynonna wasn’t done.

“Like, lecture me all you want about relationships babygirl, but until you stop drooling over Nicole when she isn’t looking and you two actually fucking kiss, kinda don’t think you have any say.”

Waverly fought to hide her grin.

“Anyway. Done dishing my big sisterly wisdom for the night. See you tomorrow.” Wynonna planted a sloppy kiss into Waverly’s forehead and smacked her ass as she walked away. “Go get some pussy, kid.”

The mug of tea gone cold hid Waverly’s smile.

 Sixth period Monday afternoon rolled around like clockwork as Nicole let Wynonna drag her from the library down to the senior lot for the ritual truck sitting. “So shit really hit the fan with your dad, huh?”

Nicole snorted as she elbowed her way through the senior lot doors and into the frigid sting of November in Purgatory. “You could say that.”

She swung into the bed of Wynonna’s truck and waited expectantly for her counterpart to follow, for the truck to creak as she scrambled over the other side.

Only the shriek never came, nor did Wynonna’s boots settle into the bed of the truck.

She instead stood by the passenger door, swung wide, with an impish grin.

“Wynonna?” Nicole asked uncertainly.

Wynonna’s grin deepened. “Get in, Haughtshit. We’re going for a ride.”

Chapter Text

She’s a cold blooded killer
I’m a cold blooded sinner
When her hand wraps in mine
I can swear I’m a winner
She’s a cold blooded butcher
I’m a warm blooded calf
Then her hands wrap her knives
And tear me in half

“Where the fuck are we going.” Less of a question; more of a statement. It hung heavily from Nicole’s lips and latched onto the nape of Wynonna’s neck, whose hands curled tighter around the steering wheel. She shook her head and pursed her lips.

Clearly this hadn’t been some spur of the moment drive; Wynonna was recklessly calculated in each turn. She’d kept her mouth shut for the majority of the ride through Nicole’s continuous questioning, only speaking once to say, “Passenger door is broken, doesn’t open from the inside, asshole,” when Nicole threatened to launch herself out the window if Wynonna didn’t answer her.

Her fingers were plastered white from clenching the steering wheel so hard. An amalgam of melted snow and gravel under the truck kicked against the frame as the she turned into a parking lot off the only highway in town. The sign for Mama Olive’s Diner! flickered and threatened to give at any moment next to a dingy motel whose lights had gone out entirely.

Despite the terrifying aura of vacancy it exuded, it seemed warm enough and well taken care of; beaten down in a loving sort of way.

Nicole felt much the same.

The engine to the car died in the parking lot of the motel and Wynonna heaved a breath as she wrapped her coat tighter around herself. “Here, Haughtshit. We’re going here.”

“Yeah?” Nicole peered through the windshield at the front office, which appeared to be empty, lights off and a dead plant sitting on the counter. “Why?”

“Thought there might be someone you wanted to see here. As far as I heard, you didn’t get to say goodbye.” Wynonna popped out of the car and let Nicole out, then stuffed her right arm into her sweater and took a breath. “Figured I’d give you the chance.”

Nicole followed tepidly behind Wynonna. The knock against 11 embossed in chipped gold lettering emulated her beating heart. “Coming,” a familiar voice from the other end called, and Wynonna took a step back, pulling something from underneath her jacket where her hand was tucked and shooting Nicole a grin that she couldn’t decide was supportive or feral. Maybe a bit of both.

Then the door swung wide and Nicole’s father stood, waiting in the doorway, until he closed it behind him.

His eyes went wide at the sight of Nicole, until he looked past at Wynonna, and his eyes went wider. “What have you got there,” he whispered, and a sound Nicole had heard before but only ever in movies registered. A tick-tick-tick-click, and then Wynonna was holding an old Western revolver to his head.

“Wynonna!” Nicole shrieked, synchronous to Wynonna replying with, “My good friend, Peacemaker.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Nicole made a move to swat at the gun, but Wynonna’s arm planted in her stomach and dear god she was strong. The barrel of the revolver kissed his forehead ever so slightly.

“Relax, Nicole. I’ve got this under control.” Her father’s eyes went wide, pleading, as he glanced over at her. “Name’s Wynonna. Wynonna Earp. Heard you weren’t very nice to my friend, here. Broke some of her things.” Her voice was cold, steel, relentless. Despite her hand thrust against Nicole’s stomach shaking, the one holding Peacemaker was terrifyingly still. Unmoving. Absolutely sure of its placement.

“What’s the plan, Wynonna?” Nicole hissed. Her limbs felt sluggish and trapped, like she’d been encased in cement. “Huh? What’s the plan?”

“Well.” Wynonna shot her a dazzling smile and pressed harder against his skull. “Either he apologizes, or I punch a bunch of holes in him. His choice.”

“Call your bitch off, Nicole, I’m your father,” he snarled.

“Excuse me?” They shrieked simultaneously.

“Fuck you,” Wynonna continued. “I’m my own bitch. You gonna apologize to Haught here or what?”

He glanced at her for a moment. “Haught?” His voice shook. A bead of sweat had started to trickle from his brow and rolled down the barrel of Peacemaker.

“Got it changed to mom’s,” Nicole replied, teeth bared. Call your bitch off, Nicole, I’m your father. An ugly feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach, gnawing angrily upwards towards her heart. “After you left. Didn’t want your last name anymore.”

“Apologize,” Wynonna snarled, and pressed the barrel in further, forcing him back up against the closed door. “You’ve got three seconds, or I’ll do it for you. One.”

“Nicole,” he started, and reached out for her. Wynonna thrust her hand out and knocked his head back into that glossy little 11; his hand retracted back to his side.

“Two.”

“You—you’re not actually going to shoot him, right?” Nicole asked.

“She wouldn’t,” he replied. His teeth ground down angrily as his eyes went crossed for a moment to stare at the barrel between his brows.

Wynonna glanced between Nicole and her father for a moment before laughing maniacally. “I shot my own goddamn father, you think I won’t shoot some fucking homophobic lowlife piece of shit who threatened my family? Go on, google me, I’ll wait.”

She’d shot her own father?

Brown eyes flicked between Nicole and Wynonna. “Nicole,” he finally said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh yeah? For what?” Wynonna hissed.

“I think I can do the talking, Wyn.” Nicole placed her hand gently on Wynonna’s shoulder.

“Roger that.”

“I’m sorry,” he tried again. “I’m sorry that I left.”

“You think that’s why I’m mad at you?”

The sound of a car pulling up somewhere behind her should’ve had her tucking tail and fleeing, but she was lost in the moment. I’m sorry that I left. His head cocked to the side, the gun following suit. “I—should I be sorry for something else?” His lips curled ever so slightly. Putrid. Acid dripped from between his teeth and seared the dusting of snow beneath his feet with a deafening hiss.

He knew, and that burned more than any shot of whiskey she was sure he’d downed that night at the bar. “Fuck you,” Nicole whispered.

The next three things happened in rapid succession, her head spinning as her father’s words registered.

First, she saw Wynonna drop Peacemaker as her shoulders slumped in defeat and unfamiliar hands groped at her arms, tearing the gun away.

Second, she felt her arms forced behind her back and cold metal bite into her wrists.

Third, her head was being pushed into a cop car as she was arrested.

 The number to the Purgatory Police Department lit up Waverly’s phone during the middle of sixth period.

She was going to kill Wynonna.

 The jail cell was empty save for Wynonna and Nicole, who had claimed respective sides of the cement bench inside, backs slumped and arms crossed. A heavy silence hung in the air for a moment before Nicole inhaled heavily. “So…were you really gonna shoot him?”

Wynonna snorted and patted her knee for Nicole to rest her head on. It was still sixth period, after all. “Please. The gun was empty. I just wanted to see him shit his pants a little; that’s all.” She rolled her head back and forth across the wall. “I’m sorry that he was just as much of a shit that we thought he was.”

Nicole shrugged from her position on Wynonna’s lap. “It’s okay. He was—he wasn’t really anything more than that, looking back on it. But you didn’t—you said something. Back at the motel.” Her voice had dropped.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Her voice went cool and her mouth curled as though she’d swallowed something sour.

“You didn’t—did you really shoot your dad?”

“I did.” Wynonna sucked a breath in between her teeth. “With Peacemaker. When I was thirteen years old. I’m a cold blooded killer, just like your old man.” She took a heavy sigh.

“Was it an accident?”

“God, no.” She felt a jolt run down Wynonna’s spine. “The media had a goddamn conniption. Painting the town with some news about a kid shooting her alcoholic, abusive father wasn’t a fucking story, it was a tragedy that doesn’t get flocks of newcomers, so they made up some shit about me seeing demons instead of my father for the piece of shit that he actually was and threw me into juvie for a misdiagnosis. Didn’t realize I really did shoot a goddamn demon anyway.” She sucked in a breath that sounded like a stifled laugh. “The irony gets me to this day.”

Nicole’s tongue tried to press her for anything, any form of comfort, but she could only stare blankly at the tears that dripped down Wynonna’s chin and wait.

“Masqueraded it under some story that I started to lose it after Mama left. And—Waverly’s not my whole sister, did you know that? She’s only mine and Willa’s half sister. Mama had an affair with some guy named Julian and dear, sweet Waverly was born. He didn’t stick around long after she was born, so Mama took her home to good ol’ Daddy. And then she left. He used to treat her like shit.” She wiped hastily at a tear in her eye and sniffled. “Whenever he got really drunk, she used to go hide out in the rafters of the garage where she thought no one could find her. Sometimes when she wasn’t fast enough to hide before he got home, he used to hit her. Never me or Willa, just her.

“We never saw it happen, so Willa never believed it, even when Waverly started getting these bruises all over her body. She said she was a kid, accidents happened, any excuse in the book she could to defend Daddy.

“One night it got really bad, worst it had ever been. So I grabbed Peacemaker and put two in his chest. He never hit her again.” She took a big heave and wound her fingers through Nicole’s hair. “Never did much of anything again, ‘cept get lowered into the ground in a family grave only dug for four.

“So Uncle Curtis and Aunt Gus moved in with us. Willa never quite forgave me. Or Waverly, for that matter. She blamed me for getting rid of Daddy and her for getting rid of Mama. We don’t—we don’t talk much anymore.”

“And now she’s dating the principal of Purgatory High,” Nicole whispered, voice low and melancholic.

“That she is. Engaged, actually. Never sent me a wedding invite, the fucking bitch.” Wynonna laughed suddenly, but it was warm, and Nicole found herself laughing too until tears leaked from her eyes and she was trying to stifle it into Wynonna’s legs. “God, we’re fucked up, aren’t we? I just—Jesus, you know what they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Then I had to go back to school when I turned sixteen. I was like a fucking revenant, honestly, and they treated me like it, too. You know the rest, fucking around with Doc, failing senior year.” Her hands waved for a moment before settling back into Nicole’s hair.

“Sounds like it was hard.” Nicole’s eyes widened a bit. “That sounded a lot less dumb in my head.”

Wynonna shrugged. “I mean, you’re not wrong. It was fucking hard. The worst experience of my life. But you know what? I’d do it all over again. Shoot him and go to juvie. Prison. Wherever the fuck I’d go at this point. A part of you dies when kill someone but I’d…I’d do it a hundred times over again if it meant he couldn’t hit Waverly anymore. She’s more a part of me than he ever was.”

Nicole let a moment of silence hang between them before murmuring, “I know you would.” She’s a part of me, too.

“So, when I found out I had the opportunity to point a gun at another shitty father, I just couldn’t pass it up, now could I?” She nudged Nicole playfully.

“How’d you find him, anyway? How’d you know he was still in Purgatory?”

“I’m an Earp. We have our methods.”

Nicole raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, fine, Dolls’s dad is part of some top secret task force team and I made him hack into his dad’s shit and find him for me. He owed me a favor, anyway.” She winked. Nicole mimed puking. A distant shout from the lobby had Wynonna straightening and shoving Nicole’s head from her lap. “Oh, get ready, Haughtshit, we’re about to meet the she-demon reincarnate.”

“What?” Nicole squeaked out, and then the doors to the holding cells slammed open and Waverly Earp stood in the doorway, fuming.

 “Babygirl!” Wynonna called jovially. “So glad you could make it! We were just talking about you!”

“Save it,” Waverly snarled. She grabbed the cell door and rattled it threateningly. For being a head shorter than both Wynonna and Nicole, she managed to seethe with enough anger to scare away a demon. Nicole seemed to try to melt into the wall, which only angered Waverly further. “You!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Nicole. “I’d expect this from her, but are you fucking kidding me? I got a call in the middle of school saying that you guys had been arrested for assault!”

“Waves, if you would just let me explain—”

“No, let me explain! You two are lucky you aren’t getting sent to prison for this! Whoever the fuck you held a gun to isn’t pressing charges but if he was? You’d be halfway across the country in a packing crate filled with other inmates by now!”

Nicole slunk back further against the wall. Waverly could deal with her later. Her gaze flicked over to Wynonna. “And you . What do you have to say for yourself? God knows this isn’t the first time I’ve had to bail you out of here, but I remembering you swearing it would be your fucking last! And yet, here I am in the middle of sixth period when I know you should be in class!”

Wynonna, seemingly unfazed, blew out a breath and adopted a look of innocence. “Well, frankly, I’m just stunned that you happened to catch us the first time we skipped.” She shot Waverly a cheeky grin.

“So this—” Waverly’s hands flailed wildly between the two of them. “This cohort has been going on for a while then? First I have to come fucking bail you out of jail and then I find out you’ve been skipping class this whole time? You two are going to give me fucking whiplash, I swear to god.” She pinched the bridge of her nose before refocusing on Nicole. “You let her skip? This whole time you’ve been with her, and you let her skip?”

“Waves, I’m so sorry,” Nicole tried. Waverly waved her hand and shook her head sadly.

“No, you—I’ll deal with you later.” Her voice bled melancholic all over the floor of the jail until it seeped into the soles of Nicole’s shoes and stung her skin like nettles. “Any arc of redemption for you before I leave, Wyn?” She looked pleadingly towards her sister, whose shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Being the fuckup of the family is harder than it looks, babygirl.”

And in that moment, Waverly realized she’d already forgiven them both.

 Not that Nicole knew that. Not that she needed to know that. It wasn’t that Waverly enjoyed watching her squirm—it was that she had to let the situation sink in, and god, did it fucking hurt. She’d known Nicole had been surprised when she’d dropped Wynonna off at the Homestead first and let the car idle for a moment before Nicole had murmured, “Guess I’ll walk home then,” in a slow, sad voice.

Waverly scoffed and started the car again, keeping her mouth shut until Nicole’s house pulled into view and Nicole waited patiently for Waverly to walk around and let her out. Which she didn’t, instead opting to huff in frustration and whap her head against the back of the seat. “You could’ve gotten hurt,” she said, her voice hardly a whisper. The engine died and a residual hum filled the inside the car. “I—do you realize that?”

“I didn’t even know what was going on,” Nicole admitted. “Wynonna told me to get in the car and I did. I didn’t—I didn’t even know where we were going.”

Waverly shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. “You could’ve gotten hurt, Nicole. Or arrested. God, you—you could’ve gone to prison.”

“I didn’t though, my dad, he—he dropped the charges, we’re free, you said so—”

“Your dad?”

Nicole froze.

“You pointed a gun at your dad? Your crazy, homophobic dad who went to prison for murdering someone?” Waverly’s voice was beginning to wobble as she fought to hide a bout of tears beginning to build in her eyes.

“I mean, no, technically it was Wynonna who pointed the gun at him—”

“God! ” Waverly shrieked. Her hands smacked the steering wheel; the car was starting to become smaller, stiflingly so, until it was pressing into her sides at the thought of Nicole face to face with her father. “Are you freaking kidding me, Nicole?! You—you could’ve gotten hurt, or killed, or left…you would’ve left me.” Waverly’s voice cracked and broke off. “You would’ve left me.”

“Waverly.” Nicole’s voice went timid and careful. “I would’ve ever do that if you didn’t—I wouldn’t ever leave you, Waves. I’m really sorry I let Wynonna skip, I promise I won’t do it anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Is that what you think this is about?” She could feel Nicole stiffen beside her.

“Well, no, of course not. But I know that’s some of it. I shouldn’t have let her skip and if you don’t want to forgive me, I understand.” Her head hung low until her chin kissed her chest and waves of red hair hung in a curtain over her face.

“That’s not—that’s not what I’m upset about,” Waverly replied quietly. She’d gone still, as if just coming to this realization now. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“I—I’m trying to.”

Waverly gave an incredulous laugh. “You could’ve gotten hurt, Nicole. You could’ve gotten arrested and shipped off to a prison a thousand miles away and I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

“I’m not going to prison, Waves. I don’t understand why you’re freaking out about this.”

“Why?” Waverly laughed again. “God, you’re—for being so smart, you’re just so fucking stupid sometimes, you know that?”

Nicole blinked.

“Because—it’s because I fucking love you, you giant idiot! I am in love with you and you would’ve left me!” Waverly’s hands smacked the steering wheel again in frustration. “You would’ve left me and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself because I love you, Nicole Haught! ”

The surrounding air went silent; the earth beneath the truck held its breath in wait.

Then, quietly, “I love you too, Waves.”

“Good. Then that’s settled.” Waverly mopped hastily at her eyes and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m tired of being mad at you, Nicole. It doesn’t feel right, like there’s this hole in me.”

At least no one could tell Waverly Earp she didn’t know how to handle her own emotions.

“I meant it, Waves. I’m never leaving you, not if I can help it. Where you go, I go.”

“I don’t quite think your mom feels that way, baby.” Waverly took another sniffled breath. “I have another year here and you have to do something. You can’t waste away at Haught-O-Mobiles while I try to finish up senior year. You have to do something.”

“I’ll figure something out, Waves, I swear.” Nicole pulled her in and Waverly’s head nestled into the crook of her shoulder, rubbing slow, smooth circles into her back. “I don’t know what yet. But I swear it.”

Waverly couldn’t help but believe her, even if she hadn’t figured out why yet.

Chapter Text

“You can’t keep skipping classes, Wyn. It’s time to face the music.”

“God, I fucking hate you,” Wynonna replied. She took a steely breath as she glanced into Holliday’s sixth period class, already teeming with students. “Okay,” she murmured. “Okay, okay. Make this classroom your bitch.”

“Not the best attitude, but you know what? Go get ‘em.” Nicole gave Wynonna a slap on the ass and shoved her through the classroom door before she could chicken out and spun on her heel. Out of sight, out of mind. Svane had made some ultimatum that if she attended class every day for the rest of the school year, he wouldn’t throw her under the bus and make her fail again.

Not that he admitted to making her fail the first time. That had been of her own libation. Literally.

“Baby!” Waverly screeched from somewhere around the hallway. She turned in enough time to catch a flying mass of cheerleader and grinned up at her. “How’s life going as Purgatory High’s official basketball drop out musician extraordinaire?”

“So many adjectives,” Nicole replied as she sunk into a kiss. She normally hated the affectionate couples in the high school hallway; the ones intent on swallowing the other’s tongue, but now that she had become that couple, she embraced it head on. “Better now that you’re here.”

“That’s gay,” someone scoffed from behind Waverly and Rosita ducked into view, followed by a good horde of the basketball team, who all seemed like they agreed. “Really fucking gay, Haught.” Nicole high-fived her. Waverly frowned. “We miss you on the team, you know.”

“I look forward to cheering you guys on more, anyway,” Nicole replied. She let Waverly down to her feet. “And you, ma’am, need to be getting to class.”

Waverly frowned and made a noise similar to a whine as her arms wrapped tighter around Nicole’s neck.

She swatted Waverly on the ass. “Or did you want to break your perfect attendance record two years and counting? I hear Beth Gardner’s got quite the stick up her ass about it.”

Waverly’s eyes went wide, and she barely had time to plant a kiss on Nicole’s cheek before dashing down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

An unanswered college letter sat heavily in her pocket as her future wobbled in front of her. Maybe it was time for her to face the music, too.

She tossed it into the recycling with all the grace of a refined basketball drop out and didn’t think another thing of it.

One Year Later

“Hey!” Wynonna’s voice is loud over the throbbing bass blaring from somewhere out front. She clenches tightly at a drained shot of whiskey in between her hands. “So you—you really did it, huh?”

Nicole rolls her eyes; they’ve had this conversation at least twice already in the past fifteen minutes, but Wynonna’s six shots in and her memory is fading away by the second. “Yes, Wynonna.”

“This is big stuff, kid! I really think you’re gonna go far with this.”

“Okay. No more shots of whiskey for you.”

“No!” Wynonna grabs hastily at the bottle of whiskey and clutches it to her chest protectively. “You monster. Don’t take her away from me.”

“If you ask me if I’ve made it big one more fucking time, I’m cutting you off, that’s it,” Nicole warns. “I’m not letting you take advantage of the VIP pass anymore.”

Wynonna frowns and tightens her grip on the whiskey. The hint of a VIP pass pokes out of her leather pants. “Oh yeah? I don’t see you wearing one! You shouldn’t even be allowed back here!”

“For the last time, Wynonna, I don’t need a pass!”

“Well, that just seems unfair.” Wynonna slouches back against her seat.

Waverly, on the other hand, bounds up with it swinging around her neck, clenching water bottles in both hands. “Not fighting, are we?” she asks, eyes narrowing as she looks between Nicole and Wynonna.

“No ma’am,” Wynonna replies at the same time Nicole shakes her head vigorously.

“Hmm.” Waverly’s eyes narrow further to examine the two of them, then nods astutely. “Good. You’re almost on.” She offers a water bottle to Nicole and attempts to offer the other to Wynonna, who shoots her a grin and holds up her whiskey.

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Alright. I’m going to go talk to Perry about the lighting for a second, you guys hang tight. I’ll see you out there.” She rubs a comforting hand over Nicole’s shoulder. “Break a leg.”

Nicole smiles up at her, and then she’s gone, scampering out to where a screaming audience roars. A piece of paper wethers in between her fingers in her pocket like a worry stone. “Hey.” Wynonna’s voice is calm and surprisingly sober. “I know this isn’t what your mom wanted, but I—I’m really proud of you.” She reaches out and places a hand on Nicole’s knee. “You did the right thing for you, and I think that’s really brave. It was—I know how hard it was to get to where you are now.”

Nicole offers her a small grin. Tensions with her mother have been tight for a variety of reasons, but they’re on the mend. She hasn’t spoken to her father since Wynonna held a gun to his head, and she prefers it like that. Last she’s heard, he’d been arrested again for armed robbery of a liquor store and had thrown back into prison.

Some dreams really do come true.

Ever since the whole escapade of her best friend pointing a gun at her own father's head and the story had leaked, reporters had flocked to Purgatory in hopes of retrieving the official story and masquerading it under some form of heroic brilliance--halfway through what had to be the zillionth interview with Purgatory Times and Wynonna's almost-murdered-a-man-and-I'd-do-it-again hair, she'd let slip that Nicole could play guitar, and well. And that had skyrocketed into something else entirely, leading her here, backstage to her own concert.

“Now.” The hand on her knee slaps down hard. “Go get the girl.”

“What?”

“Waverly, dingus. You two are so fucking in love with each other it’s disgusting. Go get her.”

“We’ve been dating over a year now, Wynonna. I have no idea how you haven’t noticed yet.”

“What?” Wynonna’s eyes widen. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“We haven’t even been inconspicuous about it. You’ve walked in on us multiple times.”

Nicole feels a hand lifting her from the shoulders, leaving Wynonna’s gaping mouth flailing open as Waverly pulls her closer to the curtains. “You ready, baby?” She straightens the collar of Nicole’s blazer and smoothes a crease on her shoulder.

“How surprised would you be if I said no?”

Waverly laughs. “You get like this every time before a show. I know it’ll be okay. You’ll do excellent, as always.” She pulls Nicole down into a kiss, a kiss loud enough to drown out the voice announcing; Here to perform her first album of what we hope to be many to come, Purgatory, I could not be more thrilled to present to you guys…Revenant!

That’s her cue. Nicole’s forehead rests for a moment against Waverly’s before she slips the paper in her pocket into Waverly’s hand and winks. “I love you, Waverly Earp. More than anything. Enjoy the show, baby,” she murmurs, pressing one last kiss to her lips, and then slips through the curtains as the audience’s cries become a deafening wall of sound.

Its her setlist, Waverly knows, as she keeps it in her pocket before every show and hands it off right before her time to go on stage, but she can’t help herself from unfolding it and running her fingers over the blocky, neat lettering she knows to be identical to the song Nicole had written her a year and some change before, a song she still keeps tucked under her pillow every night to get her through the weeks on tours when Nicole’s gone.

The setlist crinkles in her hands as she spares her eyes over it to give it one last read.

Band: Revenant
Album: Purgatory
Setlist:

1. Straight up, I'm Not
   
2. Think Like a Machine
3. Bad Luck
4. Halfway to Hell
5. Beasts
6. Angel
7. Chess Games Explained
8. Swindler
9. Tell Aphrodite
10. Banshee
11. Unsure Hands
12. Symptoms of a Survivor
13. No Hatred in these Bones
14. Cold Blooded Killer

Fin.