Chapter Text
“Alright, I’m here,” Waverly said, stepping behind the bar after shedding her raincoat in the back room. Thunder rumbled outside, but it was muffled by the walls and mostly drowned out by the music playing over the speakers.
“Oh my God, thank you so much. I’m so sorry I have to leave early. Family emergency,” Chrissy said, wringing her hands and sounding honestly apologetic.
“It’s fine. No big deal,” Waverly answered with more brightness than she felt. “Go on, I’ve got it.”
“Okay. It’s been pretty quiet so far. I think most people were scared off by the storm.” Chrissy nodded towards a back corner. “Deputy… I mean, the Sheriff’s back there, though. I’m guessing it’s her first night off in a long time.”
“Sheriff Haught is here?” Waverly asked, her annoyance at having to come in on her night off evaporating, replaced by curiosity.
“Yeah. I just told her she’s cut off, so you shouldn’t need to serve her anything.”
“Wait, you mean she’s drunk?” Waverly could hear the surprise in her own voice. Chrissy nodded, smirking.
“Extremely. But she’s not giving anyone trouble. She’s actually a very adorable drunk, all things considered. Every time I stop by to check on her, she tells me these crazy stories about things she did before she came here. Rock climbing, and music festivals, and academy adventures, and something about building emergency shelters in flood zones.”
Waverly’s eyes followed Chrissy’s nod back to the corner, intrigued by the idea of a drunk and chatty Sheriff Haught. The sheriff was always so kind and warm and friendly and encouraging with her. And her outrageously oversized tips were a not-insignificant part of Waverly’s weekly take-home pay.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll make sure she gets home safe when I lock up.”
“Perfect. I mean, I’m sure she can take care of herself, but I always feel kind of bad for her. After Dad died…” Chrissy blinked furiously and cleared her throat, like it was still too hard to talk about. Waverly pulled her into a hug, and by the time she pulled back, Chrissy had composed herself. “Anyway, thanks again.”
After Chrissy departed, Waverly made herself pretend to clean the bar and arrange glasses for several minutes, briefly acknowledging the small number of regulars who had braved the storm to make an appearance. Then, giving in to her burning curiosity, she poured a soda and made her way back in the direction Chrissy had pointed.
Sure enough, Nicole Haught was sitting in a back corner in plain clothes, a purple long-sleeved blouse and a pair of dark-wash jeans with cowboy boots. She looked tired but giddy, swaying her head slightly to the music playing over the speakers. As Waverly approached, the sheriff noticed her, and an immediate thousand-watt smile lit up her whole face.
“Hey look, it’s you,” she slurred, beaming at her. “You weren’t supposed to be here tonight.”
“Chrissy asked if I could close for her,” Waverly explained.
“Oh no, is she okay?” Sheriff Haught asked, her smile melting instantly into concern. Ever since Sheriff Nedley’s death, his replacement had seemed particularly protective of her predecessor's daughter. Which only made it sweeter that tonight, Chrissy was being the protective one.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Waverly set the drink on the table. “Here, I got you this. Chrissy said you’re cut off.”
Nicole nodded like she understood, then kept nodding.
“I came in for a drink. And to watch people. And also to have a few drinks. And then I had all these.” She gestured to the table with a sweeping hand, and looked surprised that it was empty. “They were there a second ago.”
Waverly stifled a laugh at the usually composed sheriff’s drunken antics and gave her a warm smile, pushing the soda towards her.
“Well, you still have an hour before we close up. Drink that and let me know if you need any water or anything.”
“Thanks!” the sheriff chirped, pulling out her wallet to pay for the drink. Waverly held up a hand to stop her.
“Hey, it’s on the house,” she said firmly. The sheriff shot her a scandalized look.
“No way, nope. Nuh-uh. I refuse to take part in bankrupting Purgatory’s best business, buddy. Refuse.” She stabbed two fingers against the table to emphasize her point.
“Sheriff Haught, you are the most notorious over-tipper I’ve ever had at this bar, and soda costs us basically nothing. It’s fine.”
The sheriff tossed her fiery red hair and put a five dollar bill on the table with defiance in her barely focused, deep brown eyes.
“That’s for the soda. And no change.”
“Sodas are a dollar, and I’m not accepting a 400% tip, even from you.” Waverly pushed the bill back towards her. “Keep your money, Sheriff. You can’t keep this place afloat on your own.”
“It’s not just that. I want to let you know how much I appreciate you,” Sheriff Haught rambled with the heartfelt earnestness that was so common in the intoxicated and so rare in the sober. “You’re always so nice, and you’re always smiling, even when you probably don’t feel like it, and you’re so pretty.”
Waverly blushed, warmth flooding her at the other woman’s ardent praise. But the sheriff trailed off, looking confused for a second.
“Wait… oh nooooo,” she moaned, laying her head on the table.
“What’s wrong?” Waverly asked, suddenly worried.
“I’m not supposed to talk to you. That’s rule number three. Don’t talk to Waverly when you are drunk, Nicole.” The sheriff sounded miserable. She looked up at Waverly with wide, distressed eyes. “I forgot. That was why I came when Chrissy was here. And now you’re here, and I was so happy to see you that I forgot about the rules.”
Waverly blinked down at her, a little shocked and a lot confused and maybe a tiny bit hurt.
“What? Why can’t you talk to me when you’re drunk?” she asked, her tone somewhere between baffled and indignant. Nicole looked miserable.
“Because I say stuff when I’m drunk. Like, all the time. I can’t help it. My mouth forgets to ask my brain if it’s okay to say stuff.”
Waverly relaxed a little at the explanation. So the sheriff was afraid of saying something stupid while drunk. That made sense. She tried to wave off the other woman’s discomfort.
“Ah, don’t worry about that. I work at a bar, I talk to drunk people almost all day. I’m used to a few slip-ups, Sheriff.”
“Nicole,” the sheriff said. She was gazing up at Waverly with huge eyes. In the poor lighting, it was hard to tell where her pupils ended and her dark brown irises began, and they reminded Waverly of a puppy. “Just call me Nicole. Please?”
“Oh. Okay. Sure. Nicole, then.” When Waverly said her name, the corners of her mouth lifted.
“I like the way it sounds when you say it,” Nicole murmured, apparently forgetting her prior misery. “Your voice is pretty. Just like your face.”
“Thanks, Nicole,” Waverly chuckled. She knew that she should return to the bar, but something about the sheriff… Nicole… sitting drunk and alone in a back corner of the bar made her sad. “Um… I should get back to the bar, but I’ll check on you later, and you can come get me if you need anything.”
“I don’t need anything,” Nicole sighed, sounding resigned. Waverly hesitated.
“You know, you don’t have to skulk in this dark corner like you’re Batman. You could come sit at the bar if you want,” she offered. Nicole tried to smile up at her, but couldn’t fully manage it.
“Believe me, I would really, really like that. A lot. But I didn’t want people to see their sheriff all drunk and babbling and stuff. Thought that might make them feel kind of not exactly totally safe.”
“Nedley was here every day when he was alive. And often twice a day.”
“Nedley was a man. And he was from here. And more importantly, he was a man,” Nicole pointed out. Waverly had to admit that she was right. There was a difference between the well-known old sheriff drowning his sorrows at the local bar and the young, female, recently-promoted, former-big-city deputy doing the same.
“Well, there’s only like two other people here now, and I don’t think Rick and Dusty are going to tattle on you.”
Nicole seemed to consider this for about a second, and then pulled herself, swaying, to her feet.
“Okie dokie artichokie, let’s go sit at the bar. Or me sit at the bar, you stand behind it. Or whatever.” She staggered a little as she took a step in that direction. Waverly rushed forward, grasping her arm to steady her. Even through her shirt, Nicole’s skin felt blazingly hot, but the sheriff froze at her touch, not even seeming to breathe.
“Woah, easy there. You’ve had a lot. Maybe you should lean on me.”
Nicole gave her an adorably wide-eyed look that was hard to read, but might have been part terrified and part elated. Waverly pulled Nicole’s arm around her shoulders and began leading the taller woman to the bar.
“This is definitely breaking Rule Number Two,” Nicole slurred vaguely, leaning into her side. Waverly decided not to question her this time, and instead deposited her on a bar stool, where she could lean on the wooden bar and regain her equilibrium. “Thanks. You’re so nice.”
“So are you. And Chrissy was right, you’re a very charming drunk.”
Nicole flashed her a wide, adoring smile that showed off her dimples and made Waverly's heart skip a beat for some reason. “Uh, here, drink this. I’ll be back in a minute.” Waverly set the soda back on the bar and went to check on her other two customers, feeling oddly flustered.
She started to clean up for the night, wiping down tables and counters and gathering empty glasses and trash. Nicole stayed in her seat at the bar, and Waverly couldn’t help but keep half an eye on her as she went about her closing duties. The sheriff looked tired but relaxed, and Waverly noticed how different she looked in normal clothes as opposed to her uniform. Not that she didn’t look good in her uniform— she absolutely did— but in a regular shirt and jeans, her hair tumbling in messy waves, she looked… softer. More feminine. More real, somehow.
The last two of her regular customers nodded to her and left out the front door about a half hour before closing, visibly bracing themselves against the weather outside. That just left the sheriff and Waverly.
“I can leave now if you want to close early,” Nicole offered after Rick and Dusty left. She had finished her soda and was drawing patterns in the condensation with her fingertips. Waverly smiled at her, touched by the offer.
“That’s okay. I have some more cleaning up to do anyway. I’ll just flip the sign, but you can stay while I finish closing up.”
“Okay.” Nicole seemed content with that idea. Waverly refilled her soda again and swatted her arm when she reached for her wallet.
“Sodas have free refills,” she said sternly, wagging a finger in her direction.
“I didn’t even pay for the first one. Come on,” the sheriff whined, sounding petulant.
“And I’m sure the bar made quite a bundle getting you into this state, especially with the way you tip. I think we can afford the investment.”
“How’s it an investment?” Nicole smiled indulgently at her, like she really wanted to hear the answer.
“Well, the idea is that you remember our fine service and come back some other night,” Waverly explained, returning the smile automatically.
“Alright, it’s a date,” Nicole said, face bright like the sun and eyes twinkling like stars. Unexpectedly, in the space between seconds, Waverly’s brain had a flash of an image in her head, an infinitesimally short film strip of what it would be like to date Nicole-- having the Sheriff’s soft eyes looking at her like that every day, kissing her, lying in bed with her, even having sex with her. It was shocking how clearly she could imagine Nicole’s naked body, down to every minute detail-- each freckle dotting her skin, and every scar marking an old injury. Waverly felt herself blush hard and take a step back, and Nicole immediately looked sheepish and apologetic. She quickly clarified via stage whisper, “That was a joke.”
“I know,” Waverly said, her voice sounding high and unsteady. Her heart was pounding, and she tried to shake off the strange feeling. "It's fine."
Nicole must have felt guilty about the comment, because she fell silent afterwards, obediently drinking her soda and letting her gaze roam around the room, lingering on the old Wyatt Earp decorations. At five minutes before the hour, she pulled herself up, swaying slightly, and checked her pockets like she was about to leave.
“You okay to get home?” Waverly asked. Nicole bobbed her head.
“Yep. No problemo.” She gave a final, glowing smile. “Well, Waverly Gibson, I will see you… the next time I see you. Probably at noon, since that’s usually when I see you.”
“Goodnight, Sheriff. Thanks for coming in,” Waverly answered, although something about the words felt lacking. Too trite. Too impersonal. It was what she would say to any customer. “And thanks for the conversation. I don’t always get such good company, especially at this hour.”
Nicole’s face started to light up into another beaming smile, but after a second it darkened, eyebrows knitting in concern.
“You know that if anyone ever ever makes you feel unsafe, you can always call me. Any day, any time. Always. You know that, right?” she said. Waverly felt that flush of warmth again.
“Yeah, Sheriff, I know.”
Nicole looked oddly frustrated by that response.
“Not just because I’m sheriff,” she groaned, trying to stomp her foot for emphasis and nearly losing her balance in the process. “I mean, even if you don’t want to call the department, because Lonnie’s kinda an idiot, or if there’s some creep here and they aren’t doing anything threatening, but you’re just kinda uncomfortable, you can still always call me. Me. Nicole.” Nicole’s face was earnest and searching, and Waverly felt herself soften even more towards the woman.
“I know, Nicole.”
Sheriff Haught’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and she nodded.
“Okay then. Just so long as you know. It’s important.” She finished walking to the door, tripping a little on one of the floorboards, and turned back with her hand resting on the door handle. “Good night, Waverly.” She slipped outside before Waverly could say anything back, and Waverly felt a small pang as she left the room, feeling strangely, suddenly lonely.