Work Text:
You home?
Waverly hates receiving this kind of text from Champ, but right now she doesn’t really care to make hers sound nicer than that before pressing send as her Jeep rumbles through the gravel toward the main road, away from the homestead. She’s sure that by tomorrow she’ll regret the fake and cowardly ‘plans with Champ’ excuse she’d given to Wynonna as a quick exit from the conversation she wasn’t ready for, but tonight those feelings are more than she can handle.
No amount of bubblegum saki can magically fix the deep and hardened layers of hurt that have settled between her and Wynonna. That’s just not how it works.
It’s not how Waverly works.
The fact that Wynonna doesn’t recognize that yet — or didn’t start to see it until today — is the thing that hurts Waverly the most. That revenant was right; there were some things left in Waverly’s heart that she hadn’t forgiven Wynonna for.
Waverly grips the steering wheel a little tighter, remembering all of the nonsense Wynonna tried to apologize for earlier. Things, really, that Wynonna couldn’t forgive herself for, and merely projected onto Waverly. It had only further cemented Waverly’s feelings that Wynonna has only been treating Waverly as the object of her own redemption since she’s come back to Purgatory, and not as a person independent of her last name, with her own strengths and desires.
Tears well in her eyes, driving the familiar road to Champ’s, and she knows she’s making a bad decision. She wants things with Wynonna to be better, to heal — but it can’t be rushed.
And Waverly is angry.
None of it can be brushed over. It’ll all have to be aired out; the real, deep down grit between them is built up from years of absence, resentment, and distrust, and maybe Wynonna had already worked through ways to forgive Waverly for the adolescence she never got to have, but it hasn’t been that easy for Waverly.
The real truth is that she doesn’t trust Wynonna yet. Not with her heart.
She feels a heavy weight lift from her shoulders, tears falling, at her own honesty with herself. Waverly thinks about turning back, and maybe she’ll grab some coffee and she and Wynonna can really talk. Maybe though, Wynonna will get angry about Waverly’s true feelings and want to leave again.
She passes the diner.
She passes the road that would lead back to the diner too and instead takes the one that continues on to Champ’s.
Not tonight.
She turns on the radio to quiet her thoughts — and guilt. She doesn’t want any more hard questions tonight.
Waverly sees Champ’s text light up from where her phone was mounted next to her steering wheel; 'Yeah baby. Come on over' is all it says. The stark contrast of the day’s seriousness compared to the obliviousness of Champ makes Waverly want to roll her eyes at him, but she needs this.
Comfort.
She pulls up to his place shortly after, gets out of the Jeep and heads toward his front door, knocking twice before entering. He’s seated on a gaming chair, pulled in front of his tv, playing some war game with a headset on.
He acknowledges her with a nod and continues playing. She puts her purse down and removes her jacket before she walks behind the chair and bends downs, draping her arms over his shoulders, and slips one hand into his shirt and splaying her fingers across his chest. To make her motive even more evident, she kisses his neck underneath his earpiece and then removes herself from his space entirely and abruptly.
“Yeah — Pete, I’m gonna have to go. Waverly’s here,” Champ says, already pausing and exiting back to the main screen of his game before looking over his shoulder at Waverly with a grin. Waverly assumes Pete must have said something funny because Champ laughs before replying, “Oh, I’m definitely gonna tell her.”
He removes the headset and Waverly hears a sound that must be Pete objecting to whatever Champ has been laughing about before the headset goes quiet and the tv is turned off as Champ get up from the chair and makes his way over to Waverly. He’s quick to envelop her in his arms and her.
Waverly smiles when he kisses her neck, sighing at finally being able to escape her demon-filled day. She runs her fingers through his hair, gently scratching the back of Champ’s scalp and he hums in pleasure, “I didn’t think you were coming over tonight.”
“Is that disappointing?” She says teasingly.
“You know it’s not,” he says as his hands drop to her hips, and his lips return to her neck.
“Mmm, and what was it that you told Pete you were going to tell me?”
Champ pulls away from her neck and laughs, “He got a speeding ticket like 45 minutes ago, and tried to get out of it by flirting with that new ginger cop.”
“Officer Haught?” Waverly asks, pulling away from Champ slightly at the thought of Purgatory’s new deputy.
“Yeah,” Champ says, releasing Waverly and waving off his own laughter so he could continue the story. “He was telling me how she blew him off completely when he flirted with her, and he was all surprised when I was like dude she’s a dyke! Li-“
“Champ! Are you serious right now!” Waverly scolds, her voice raised. She takes another step away from him and crosses her arms. How could he call her that?
“You too? Wave, why did you think she’s been all interested in talking to you?” Champ says, still trying to make whatever point he’s after.
Waverly’s heart feels like it stops in her chest. Officer Haught didn’t treat her like that. Like a goal. Waverly feels seen around her.
Champ is wrong. He has to be.
But maybe.
The idea threatens to break her heart, and the confusion she’s been feeling comes swirling back to mind. Because why should it matter if someone Waverly barely knows — someone she’s not even on a first-name basis with — thinks of her as the entire rest of Purgatory does?
Champ is wrong.
“That’s not what I mean, Champ.” Waverly says, cold and quiet. She points at him before continuing slowly, “That word is rude and disgusting — and not yours to use.”
Champ puts his hands in the air, giving in and claiming innocence simultaneously. “Fine, fine. It’s not that big of a deal.” Waverly scoffs and him and walks toward her purse and jacket, passing him without further thought. “Come on. Babe, come back.” Champ says, without sounding apologetic.
“It is, Champ. And no. Goodnight.” She says, making sure she looks at him hard and angry, slamming the door behind her as she leaves.
Waverly walks quickly back to her Jeep, not looking back toward Champ’s place — he doesn’t come after her anyway. She’s glad, honestly, but part of her starts to feel the creep of loneliness.
She isn’t totally surprised by what Champ said, but she feels a protectiveness toward Officer Haught, and couldn’t just let that slide tonight. Officer Haught has been nothing but kind; she doesn’t treat Wynonna like a freak, and doesn’t judge the Earp name, and isn’t only trying to sleep with Waverly. She’s not. Champ isn’t right; Officer Haught is her friend.
Just her friend.
A friend who Waverly suddenly thinks might also be feeling pretty lonely in a town like Purgatory, and Waverly’s always tried to be a person that new people in town can come to while they get their bearings, someone comforting for those that are most likely to feel alone in a small, closed-off town like Purgatory.
Waverly starts her car and immediately heads to the diner. Maybe she’ll pick up that coffee she owes Officer Haught, and take it out to the speed trap by the Purgatory sign — where she must still be if Pete got pulled over less than an hour ago.
She cannot accept that this day can end so shitty yet. She’s not ready to go back to the homestead.
The chime dings above her head when she walks through the door of the diner and Mama Olive greets her with a smile. “Evening, Waverly. You grabbing food tonight for that boyfriend of yours?”
Waverly can’t hide the disgust on her face before responding, “No way, if he wants food he can get it himself.” Mama Olive raises an eyebrow and Waverly continues, “Sorry. Um, I actually just need two coffees to go.”
“Alright, dear.” Olive says as she turns toward the coffee maker.
“Wait!” Waverly says, reaching toward her. “Can I actually make that two vanilla cappuccinos?”
“Of course, Waverly,” Olive passes the coffee machine and starts making the cappuccinos. Without turning back around she continues speaking to Waverly, “I do miss seeing you and your uncle in here every Saturday morning. He was a good man.”
“I miss it too. It’s not the same without him.” Waverly says, and quiet falls between them as Mama Olive makes the drinks. Waverly thinks it might be nice to eat lunch or breakfast with Officer Haught here some time; a new tradition for new friends.
The drinks are brought to her and Mama Olive looks at Waverly sternly, “I filled these to the top so there’s no room for your sister to add any whiskey. None of that nonsense.”
Waverly chuckles, “It’s not for her, but I’ll be extra careful not to spill. Just going to see a new friend while she’s working.” Waverly carefully picks up the two cups and turns to leave, leaving enough cash for a nice tip on the counter. “Tell Hettie I said hi!”
She carefully walks back to her car and sets the cups on the hood so she can open the door. Once situated she heads back out of town toward the only speed trap the Purgatory Police Department has ever had, and rolls her eyes that Pete got caught speeding in the only part of town it was checked.
She feels much better about this decision than she had going to Champ’s. She almost forgets her anger entirely.
The Jeep slows to a stop behind the parked patrol car, and Waverly turns off the car and her headlights. She gets all the way through the delicate balance of having two hot, full beverages in her hands and making sure the car door gets completely shut without spilling before she second-guesses her whole plan.
She can’t even think to turn around and leave before Officer Haught is already exiting her vehicle and walking over. The lights from the Purgatory sign across the street combined with the almost full moon in the clear, night sky make it possible for Waverly to make out Officer Haught’s curious smirk from 15 feet away — Waverly hopes it’s dark enough to cover any visible nervousness she’s suddenly overcome with.
“Waverly Earp,” Officer Haught says, still smiling, as she comes to a stop, six feet in front of Waverly, resting her hands on her utility belt.
“Officer Haught,” Waverly responds lightly.
A look crosses the officer’s eyes, eyebrows creasing slightly as her expression becomes concerned, “Is everything alright?”
“With me? Yeah. I thought maybe I could buy you that coffee I owed you,” Waverly realizes immediately that it sounds flirtatious and tries to backpedal, even though Officer Haught has already reacted to the comment, if her smile is any indication. “I mean, well, I knew you were out here because you pulled Pete over, and Champ was being a jerk, so I thought maybe I’d just swing by with a pick-me-up for your late shift — and I owed you one, right?”
Waverly watches Officer Haught nod along to her rambling, always with that same smile on her lips. There’s a brief silence that falls between them, and she has that same look in her eyes that gave Waverly butterflies in Shorty’s, the one that makes her feel like she needs to clarify and keep talking.
The radio on the officer’s shoulder crackles to life, startling them both; Waverly watches the soft facial features of the woman opposite her become hard and focused. She feels her ears warm and doesn’t comprehend whatever was said over the radio.
“It wasn’t for me,” Officer Haught says, smiling again, seemingly able to read the question in Waverly’s mind. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sorry,” Waverly says looking down at the cups in her hands and then back to Officer Haught, “I didn’t think this out at all. You’re working, and here I am stopping by, unplanned. I-“ Waverly stops herself, recognizing for the first time that this whole night has been completely off-book — starting with that conversation with Wynonna. She should have just asked if they could have the conversation later; now her whole night has turned into a mess. “I should go.”
Waverly extends the vanilla cappuccino toward Officer Haught. She feels defeated — every day of the last month since Wynonna has returned, she’s found new ways to unravel different strands of Waverly’s life, and still doesn’t understand the ways she’s doing it. So now, instead of thinking through and planning for a way to talk to Officer Haught, Waverly has inadvertently chosen a completely inappropriate time to try and get to know her.
Officer Haught is still looking at her, eyes gentle and understanding. She must be able to see the defeat in Waverly’s eyes, and she doesn’t reach for the cup extended to her, but to her radio. “Haught to dispatch,” she says.
She doesn’t move or look away from Waverly. She just offers a small smile and waits for a response. “Dispatch for Haught, go for Haught.” The voice breaks through their silence and Officer Haught’s smile grows wide, her dimple visible even in the low light.
She finally reaches for the cup that Waverly still has extended out to her, gently taking the cup from Waverly’s hand, never breaking eye contact, “10-44 for 30? Go.”
“10-4, enjoy your lunch, Haught.” The radio says, and Waverly dips her head as a smile of her own forms.
“Care to join me?” Officer Haught says to Waverly as she heads over to her own patrol car and steps up on the bumper to sit on the trunk. Waverly follows, and the Officer extends her hand out, “I’ll hold your coffee for you.”
Silently obliging, Waverly hands over the drink and is reminded again of how soft Officer Haught’s hands are — just like at the wake. “Thank you,” Waverly finally manages to say, as she tries to climb up onto the back of the patrol car. She finally looks at the woman next to her again and is met with a soft smile and an extended hand, returning Waverly’s drink. “It’s um, vanilla cappuccino.”
“Pardon?” Officer Haught asks.
“Your drink, it’s vanilla cappuccino, not coffee. Sorry. I remembered you tried to order a cappuccino that morning at Shorty’s so I thought you might like it.” Waverly takes a sip of her own drink, hoping it might help her stop talking. She gasps as a thought enters her head, “Oh balls, I hope you’re not allergic to vanilla, or lactose intolerant. I didn’t even think to ask. I hadn’t planned on coming out here, or I would have.”
Officer Haught smiles wider but doesn’t laugh, “I love vanilla. This is perfect.” Waverly feels like she can breathe a little more regularly now, and a comfortable quiet falls between them as they each take sips of their drinks. “This is pretty spontaneous for a planner though,” Waverly turns toward her and sees the deep dimple on her cheek, eyes playful. Officer Haught nudges Waverly’s arm with her elbow, “but I’m not complaining. It’s nice to have company.”
“Good. I was hoping so,” Waverly says, looking back at her drink and taking another sip.
“Is that why you came out here? To keep me company?”
Waverly’s cheeks flush at Officer Haught’s questioning, and she swallows thickly, “I’ve had a pretty weird day, and I thought — maybe — it might be kind of lonesome, being new in Purgatory. And I like- well, I’d like to be friends. Two less lonely people in the world.”
Waverly regrets her own admission, ready for pity or doubt that Waverly of all people could know what loneliness is. Officer Haught herself had said that Waverly was ‘quite a popular girl around here’. How could she be lonely?
Why did she say that?
Waverly is ready to smile through it and wave off any pity as exaggeration or sarcasm, but it doesn’t come.
Just silence.
“Thank you.” Officer Haught’s voice breaks Waverly out of her own spiraling thoughts and when she looks over at the Officer, Waverly only sees gratitude. No pity. No ulterior motives. No mockery.
Waverly smiles at her.
Their eyes linger for a beat longer than Waverly knows what to do with, so she looks back at her drink, “So, where are you from?”
Officer Haught leans back a bit, resting one hand behind her for support, and takes another sip from her drink. “I grew up just outside Vancouver. Went to UBC, moved around a bit and I’ve been out here for about 2 months.”
“Wow. You lived so close to the ocean.” Waverly says absently, but then catches her newest embarrassing slip and corrects herself. “Sorry, I’ve just never actually seen the ocean. What did you study in school?”
“Waverly,” Officer Haught begins and Waverly can’t help but meet her eyes, “you don’t have to apologize. Not to me. But anyway, I studied Criminology. And you?”
“I have degrees in Ancient Cultures and Ancient Languages, but I only got them online through the University of Winnipeg.” Waverly says before taking another drink.
“I know you just said that as if it didn’t matter at all, but damn that is impressive. I bet you worked full time too and finished both in 4 years?” When Waverly doesn’t respond right away, Officer Haught elbows her gently again and says, “That was meant to add to how impressive it is, just so you know. It took me five years to finish one and I couldn’t manage to work more than a part-time job. What made you choose language and culture?”
Waverly feels herself blush slightly under the praise and pushes it away to respond. “Well, my family has a lot of history in this area — not all of it good, as I’m sure you know — and I feel like, personally, in order to understand how right those wrongs, you have to understand the wrong that was done.”
The way Officer Haught looks at her, even in the dark, is something Waverly can’t quite comprehend. There’s almost a look that Waverly would call admiration, but she looks away from Officer Haught and picks at the lid of her cup. There was something almost overwhelming in that look.
“I think that’s beautiful. I’d love to hear about it more sometime.” Officer Haught finally says in response. Waverly suppresses the scoff wanting to escape her lips — no one wants to hear about Ancient Cultures studies. Officer Haught finishes the remainder of her drink and steps back down on the ground to face Waverly fully. “Also, I would never take gossipy fodder as truth; I like learning from the source — as any good cop should.”
It’s enough of a statement for Waverly to know that Officer Haught has chosen to disregard plenty of Earp related slander from the general population of Purgatory.
It’s comforting.
And new.
“Well, maybe we can talk more if we do this again?” Waverly asks, tilting her head.
“I’d love to.” Officer Haught says as Waverly gets down from the back of the vehicle as well.
She takes a few steps toward her Jeep before she turns back, “Thank you, by the way, for spending your lunch with me, Officer Haught.”
The Officer waves her off, grinning a big, dimpled smile, “If we’re going to be friends, you can start calling me Nicole.”
Waverly’s throat dries completely as the shameful memory of herself whispering that name, alone in the shower, return. Waverly has thought of it more than she’d care to admit; the stress and confusion and guilt, building. She remembers the heat from the water, imaginary lips on her neck and shoulders again — the same lips that are smiling at her now — Waverly hears herself speak that hidden fantasy into the very real world, every time she hears that name.
She chuckles lightly, pushing herself away from those thoughts, “Well, then thank you for spending your lunch with me, Nicole.”
“I think that sounded much better,” she says, hands back on her utility belt. “I hope we can do it again soon.”
“Me too.” Waverly responds, giving Officer Haught — Nicole, her friend Nicole — a small wave before returning to her Jeep.
Waverly smiles; two less lonely people.