Work Text:
Waverly holds the business card in her hand, gently running her index finger over the slight crease on the back. She stays that way, reading and re-reading the words on the face of the card until she feels chilled and realizes she’s still standing in her damp bra at the bar — distracted. She sets the card down on the counter and takes a step away from it, bringing her hands to her side as if she’d just been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Her shoe lands in a puddle of beer left pooling because of the burst tap, and Waverly is pulled fully away from her thoughts about meeting Officer Haught.
She needs to finish her opening routine anyway.
Waverly looks around the bar — as if for a moment she thinks she might not be alone — and then at the ground, seeing the mess and the splashing that she follows up to see beer also dripping down the cabinets, below the taps. The slightly nauseous feeling of anxiety bubbles in her stomach at the idea of being late for opening, and she groans realizing how distracted she let herself get.
She quickly turns toward the storage closet to get the mop, grabbing her Shorty’s shirt, from where it lay folded on the counter. She pulls the clean, dry shirt on and, despite her best efforts, her cheeks warm thinking of how Officer Haught had helped lift her other shirt off.
A woman had flirted with her.
The anxiety in her stomach has a new name now that reddens her cheeks as Waverly remembers the way Officer Haught had spoken to her, and how she’d looked at Waverly — she’d been meaning to introduce herself, and didn’t want to wait. Waverly starts to tie up her uniform shirt, like she always does, on her way to the storage closet, but her hands fumble with the knot. She abandons the idea for now, and pushes down all of the feelings and questions she has for later — and if it’s one thing she knows as an Earp, it’s how to push down inconvenient feelings.
The sound of water hitting the mop bucket helps her focus as Waverly holds the hose, watching the water level slowly rise.
For a moment.
Maybe, she thinks, she’d read the situation all wrong anyway. No one new comes into her life without it having something to do with her last name or her sister. Maybe Officer Haught thought she’d be an easy target to get information on Wynonna and Black Badge.
The thought that this complete stranger’s intentions could be less than originally perceived hurts in a way Waverly wasn’t expecting; she’s used to people using her for her name, and leaving her for the same reason — but this encounter didn’t feel like that.
Waverly turns the water off and silence fills the room again, sharing space with her doubt.
She looks over her shoulder, toward the bar, where she’d left the business card, hoping it has answers to all of the questions she doesn’t know how to ask.
Officer Haught had seemed genuine, though — and Waverly believes herself to be a good judge of character after working at Shorty’s for so long. She brings the mop bucket back to the spill, replaying all of the things Officer Haught had said to her, and her smirk, and the gentle squeeze at the end of their handshake. Waverly’s never had something like this happen to her before; she tucks her chin to her chest, pursing her lips to suppress the smile that wants to form.
A woman had flirted with her.
“Well balls.” Waverly says aloud, realizing she forgot to put soap in the mop bucket as she gets to the spilled beer. She closes her eyes and groans again at her wavering focus — all because of a stranger.
She opens her eyes, leaves the mop in the bucket, grabs the business card back off the bar top, and shoves it in her back pocket without looking at it again — as if putting the card away would keep Waverly from knowing every embossed letter on the face of the card.
She’ll think about it later.
If she should be distracted by anything right now it should be the revenants hunting her family name— not Nedley’s newest recruit — Waverly thinks as she cleans up the floor with soapless water anyway. She notices there are 30 minutes until Shorty’s opens, and Waverly feverishly moves on to the rest of the room, taking down chairs, filling napkins, and condiments.
And yet.
How long had Officer Haught been working for Sheriff Nedley? Where did she live before coming to Purgatory? Why was she interested in Waverly?
Waverly is wrapping silverware behind the bar when she hears a door close. Her heart leaps as she looks toward the main entrance, but finds no one there. Her sight shifts toward the stairs as she hears footsteps she knows are coming from her apartment. The same anxiety she felt before returns to her stomach as she watches Champ come down the stairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Morning,” Waverly says, smiling in her boyfriend’s direction. She pushes away a new feeling she doesn’t like and continues wrapping up silverware.
“Mmm, morning,” Champ responds, his voice gravelly from disuse. Waverly tells herself it’s cute — even though it’s well after 10 am, the bar opens in 10 minutes, and his hair is still clearly missed from sleep.
Waverly keeps her attention on her task, trying not to let the old anger build back up at Champ. They had finally talked things out and made up last night after Champ sarcastically asked why he wasn’t in more trouble for being caught with Wynonna on top of him in Waverly’s bed.
Waverly had simply said that she was trying to be an adult about the situation, in hopes of avoiding the subject altogether and continuing to pretend that nothing mattered so long as he fixed the hole in her apartment wall. But then, surprisingly, Champ asked her if she even cared. Point blank.
The question replays in her head as her hands busy themselves with the silverware. They had talked about effort from both parties, and here he comes, walking down the stairs after rolling out of bed — leaving her like she’s still just someone he gets to fuck — after he was the one who made her feel like she didn’t care! Like she was the one lacking attentiveness in their relationship. He didn’t shower, or comb his hair. He wouldn’t stop for coffee and breakfast at Shorty’s. He was going to leave and go home — something he continued to make abundantly clear wasn’t with Waverly.
He says something Waverly doesn’t hear as he reaches the bottom of the staircase. She turns toward him and asks him what he said. “Your shirt,” he clarifies, nodding toward the top she’s wearing, “it’s not tied up.”
Waverly is dumbfounded. Of all the things to notice. She half-smiles at him and reaches behind herself to fix her uniform. The first part of her morning comes back to her memory, and she feels the blush rise in her cheeks.
Maybe Champ was right, and they’re both just half-assing this. Waverly knows that she had fed him half-truths last night and that she doesn’t have much right to be so angry at him. The whole truth was that she didn’t know how she felt. Of course she cared about him, but last night’s conversation was only the tip of the iceberg for Waverly and Champ.
“That looks much better,” he says, stepping into her space and kissing her on the cheek, and despite herself, Waverly smiles. Champ pulls away abruptly, though, his face twisted in disgust, “Oh my god babe, you reek like old beer. Is that shirt clean?” He waves his hands in front of him, wafting the offensive smell away with a dramatic look on his face.
Waverly’s blush returns, this time in embarrassment, and takes a step further away from her boyfriend. “Geez, Champ. What the hell?” She feels the heat in her cheeks rise. “Is it that bad?” She cringes at the slight desperation in her voice, but it clearly goes unnoticed by Champ as he gives an immediate and enthusiastic ‘yes’ - which only makes Waverly want to shrivel up even more. “Well, what am I supposed to do about it now? The tap busted this morning and I guess — I guess I didn’t clean it off as much as I thought? We open in like 5 minutes! What am I even supposed to do?”
“I mean can you head up and shower fast?” He offers at least seeming genuine this time, Waverly hopes as a result of picking up on her clear discomfort.
“Probably,” Waverly looks at the clock on the wall. “Ugh, this is not how I had planned my morning!” She says dropping the wrapped silverware that she’d been holding, probably more aggressively than necessary, and turns to head upstairs.
“Don’t forget this,” Champ says, and Waverly stops to turn back toward him. He’s holding her tank top between his thumb and forefinger as if it might infect him. Waverly’s mouth goes a little dry and she walks back over to him on autopilot, forcing Officer Haught out of her mind.
“Thanks,” Waverly mutters as she rushes back to the stairs. She notices Champ start to leave as well and turns, “Wait! Can’t you stay and, I don’t know, watch the bar for a minute while I shower? We open in like 3 minutes!”
“Babe, no one is going to be here,” Champ says with a chuckle. Waverly shoots him a look, feeling like absolutely nothing from the previous night’s conversation stuck. “Fine. Fine. Just be quick.” He says waving off her anger preemptively.
“Thank you.” Waverly says curtly and turns to head up the stairs
“Do you have another clean shirt, though?” Champ shouts as Waverly opens the door to her apartment with a huff. She closes the door to his shouted question and closes her eyes to center herself in her silent room before hurriedly fixing this disastrous morning.
Opening her eyes, she notices immediately that Champ hadn’t bothered to make the bed; it doesn’t surprise her, but it is nonetheless disappointing. Waverly also knows she doesn’t have a clean shirt because it’s Friday, which means after work tonight she’ll grab her laundry basket and go to Gus’ and have dinner and use her washer and dryer.
She grabs her towel hastily and wonders for the first time if Wynonna will be joining this tradition, or if it even exists now that she’s returned. She hadn’t even bothered to ask Gus if that was still their plan.
This is not how Waverly had planned it. Not this morning. Not Wynonna. Not her Uncle Curtis.
She pushes away her feelings for the time being and rushes into the shower to get cleaned up, as it’s the only thing she currently has control over.