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when walt comes out of his office at the end of their shift, vic is sitting on the edge of her desk, playing with her ever-present hockey puck and laughing at something ferg is saying. at some point she’s changed out of her duty clothes and into a pair of impossibly tight jeans and a plaid shirt that looks vaguely familiar to walt, but that he can’t immediately place. although he’s seen vic in casual clothes more times than he can count, it still feels like a novelty every time. she looks softer out of uniform— fierce and strong and vic, but more at ease.
“walt,” vic says with a smile, like she hadn’t just been in his office thirty minutes prior making out with him like they were teenagers. the look on her face says that she’d caught him staring, and walt tries his damnedest to keep his face neutral but can feel the tips of his ears go red.
“hey vic.” he just grabs his hat and shrugs on his jacket. walt runs a hand through his hair because he knows vic wants to, and gets a stab of satisfaction when she goes a little wide-eyed. two can play her games.
“you coming to the red pony?”
walt gives her a look that says really? tonight? they’ve just finished a grueling case and all he really wants to do is go pass out, but when vic fixes him with her puppy dog eyes he abandons any hope of a quiet night at home.
“alright,” he’d finally agrees, and vic’s smile is blinding.
“good. means i don’t have to drive home tonight!” she chirps as she hops off of her desk, and walt isn’t able to do anything but laugh at that because they both know he’d have been driving her back to the cabin anyways.
but they can’t say anything about that in the station, so he just follows her out and tries not to get too distracted by the way her fingers brush against his as she walks past.
——
and that’s how walt comes to be at the red pony late on a friday night.
he’s sitting at the bar now, working on his second beer while vic makes her way around the room saying hello to various acquaintances. it’s nice to be able to watch her interact with everyone, and he tries to guess what she’s talking about by watching her expressions change and hands gesticulate wildly. every so often, vic looks over, catches his eye, and gives him a small smile. her presence is magnetic and walt couldn’t stop watching her if he wanted to. he wonders if everyone else can feel it too, or if he’s just so far gone for his deputy that it’s embarrassing.
it’s probably the second one.
vic slides onto the barstool next to him, looking happy and a little flushed. “sheriff,” she says with faux seriousness, and then laughs at her own joke. she’s already had a few drinks, walt decides, some of them probably a tinge stronger than his rainier.
“deputy,” he shoots back, playing along. “enjoying yourself?”
“yes.” she flags down henry. “another beer, please?”
walt gives her a look. “water, vic.”
she rolls her eyes at him and looks like she wants to argue, but takes the glass of water when it’s handed to her. she knows as well as walt that if she doesn’t drink it, their night will end with her head in his toilet.
walt watches her takes a sip before he feels someone else’s eyes on him. when he turns, henry is staring at him intensely, like he knows what’s going on between walt and vic even though there’s no way he could. it’s still a closely guarded secret because neither of them want to deal with the whole town being in on their relationship, or whatever it is. they haven’t really talked about it all that much.
the thing with vic is that walt, for once, doesn’t feel like he needs to have it all figured out. he’s never been very good at “going with the flow” when it came to his personal life, despite what his occasionally half-cocked plans for taking in a suspect on the job might imply. he keeps his emotions close to his chest and calculates before he acts because it minimizes his chances of getting hurt. vic and her whirlwind of philly attitude haven’t changed that, exactly, but she’s definitely teaching walt that wearing his heart on his sleeve might not be such a bad thing.
when they started this relationship—or whatever it is— they agreed they’d go slow, just revel in the simple delight of being able to be with one another after years of denial. yeah, that had gone about as well as expected. walt estimates that in the six weeks they’ve been together, vic has spent all of two or three nights at her own place. and sure, he’s enjoyed having her from 6pm to 7am, and yes, the secrecy is fun and exhilarating, but god does walt sometimes wish he could just kiss her out in the open.
he’s been staring back at henry for much too long.
“busy night,” walt finally says, clearing his throat a little. he turns away from henry to look out at the crowd and hopes his usually-perceptive friend is too preoccupied with his customers to notice anything.
henry hums his approval, but walt can still feel his eyes on him. they’re saved by the arrival of a second longmire.
“cady!” vic exclaims.
“hiya vic.” cady’s got the same glow as vic, and protective dad instincts aside, it’s nice to see her so happy. “hey dad, henry.”
“hey punk. who you here with?”
“nice try.” cady laughs as she collects her drinks from henry. “see you tomorrow?”
“breakfast,” walt agrees.
cady waves around her drinks to vic, before stopping. “nice shirt. see you henry; it’s busy tonight, isn’t it?”
walt shoots henry a sort of vindicated look, strangely intent on proving his comment earlier had been completely normal.
“friday nights are happy hour all night. and i finally fixed the jukebox,” henry explains.
as if on cue, there’s the click of a record slipping into place on the speakers. a cheer goes up amongst the crowd as the opening chords of an old country song ring out, and a few couples race to the dance floor. cady runs off to find whoever she’s here with with little more than a wave back at them. even vic slides off her barstool in anticipation. it’s funny how quickly she’d grown accustomed to absaroka county’s music taste; even in the early months when vic swore she hated wyoming like nothing else, walt would catch her mouthing along to the country that played on the only reliable radio station for miles.
“oh my god, i love this song!” she gasps. she bounces up on her toes in time to the music, and tips forward a little to brace her hands on his thighs. it’s a bold move in a crowded room; she’s so close that walt has to remember to breathe before he turns to make sure no one is looking. is she trying to get caught?
“you better be careful, there,” walt says quietly as his thumbs find the smooth skin on the inside of her wrists. maybe anyone watching will think she’s just drunk.
vic gives him an innocent look that doesn’t fool him one bit. she laughs at his expression before trying again. “dance with me?”
he laughs a little at that. “no.”
“please?”
“no.”
she leans forward a little, fingers digging into his thighs. “what if i-”
“definitely no,” walt says, and his final tone makes vic rock back onto her heels.
“fine,” vic sniffs at him dismissively as she takes a sip of his beer. “i’ll dance by myself then.”
vic pushes off the bar and swipes walt’s hat off his head before he can say anything. his sound of protest is covered by the crowd’s singing: lord have mercy, baby’s got her blue jeans on! vic’s laugh as she shoves his hat on her head is infectious, and walt doesn’t hold back from chuckling to himself as he watches her elbow her way to the dance floor.
he turns to finish of the dregs of his beer, and when walt looks back he’s lost vic to the other twirling couples. he scans the room in vain, propping his elbows up on the bar top, to try and catch a glimpse of her. he tries to tell himself that he’s just making sure she’s alright, that she hasn’t tripped or, god forbid, crushed his hat, but a voice in the back of his mind laughs at him for being so comically infatuated with her. walt hasn’t been down this bad for anyone since high school. he almost can’t blame himself for it; victoria moretti is well aware of the effect she has on men—on him. sometimes he thinks she messes with him on purpose.
suddenly, the crowd parts and walt gets a clear view of vic swinging her hips along to the song. she catches his eye and grins at him, one of those deceptively sweet smiles that say she’s about to do something she shouldn’t. vic swivels herself around in a move that can only be called suggestive and looks back over her shoulder to wink and tip his hat at him.
the crowd shouts out again. no, the girl can’t help it!
walt’s breath hitches in his chest and he has to look away. definitely on purpose.
he feels henry at his side again. “want another one?” his friend asks, pointing to the now-empty beer can.
walt waves off his question. “gotta drive vic home later.”
“are you sure?” henry asks. “she might have found someone else to drive her.”
sure enough, when walt turns back to the dance floor, vic is being spun around by some tall, dark stranger. he tries not to let his displeasure show but knows henry’s seen the pinch in his brow when his friend hums next to him. it’s not that walt is jealous, per say. he’d turned down her invitation to dance. it’s just that— well, that could be him. should be him, making her laugh and dancing with her in front of everyone. why can’t that be him, again? well, his brain supplies helpfully, you’re her boss. there’s got to be some rule against openly dating your deputy. right. and why else?
the opinions of everyone else in durant. the problem with that excuse, though, is that walt knows that most of the town already thinks something is going on between them. they’d thought there was something between walt and vic back before there had been anything at all, before sean had left and when walt had only been able to silently hope and take whatever time with vic he’d been able to get. nobody’s accused them of anything recently; the small town gossips ran out their interest on the subject just as something had happened. walt thinks that’s funny, and he and vic have laughed about it during many late nights spent tangled up together on his couch.
maybe he is a little jealous of tall, dark stranger man.
“yeah,” walt finally says with a half smile. he doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince—himself or henry. “i’m driving her.”
“oookay,” henry drawls at him. he sounds a little unconvinced, maybe, or confused. “walt, does she have your hat?”
walt turns back to look at vic just in time to watch her stumble unsteadily further into the arms of the stranger she’s dancing with. his fingers drum the bar top in agitation.
“yup.” he takes a sip of vic’s long forgotten water.
“walt,” henry says again, but this time it’s sly, like he knows something walt doesn’t. he sounds amused. “does deputy moretti have on your shirt?”
holy shit. she does.
so that’s why it had looked so familiar to him and everyone else: because it’s his. walt wonders distantly how many other people noticed before he did. had ferg, before they’d left the station? had cady? why hadn’t he? it looks better on her than it does on him and maybe that’s why; the red plaid hugs her in just the right places and at some point she must have gotten hot, because she’s undone the top few buttons.
something clicks in walt’s mind. vic doesn’t care anymore, so why should he? why is he sitting alone at the bar, making himself sick with jealousy, when it would be so easy to just stop worrying about what everyone else thinks for once and do something?
he’s moving before he’s even made up his mind.
walt’s feet make a beeline straight for his deputy. his heart is pounding as he pushes through the crowd to stand in front of her. vic sees him coming and steps away from her dance partner. her eyes are bright and mischievous and walt thinks back to that night in arizona all those months ago when she’d teased him by talking about bad girls and stole his drink.
when he finally stops in front of her, vic swings her hair over her shoulder and juts out a hip. “reconsidering my offer?”
his mouth is so dry, and he wishes he’d drank some more of that water before he’d come over like a madman. all he can say is, “who was that?”
“jealous?” she taunts.
they stare at each other, neither wanting to break first.
“you’re wearing my shirt.” walt raises an eyebrow at her. “and my hat.”
vic mirrors his expression. “and what are you gonna do about, cowboy?”
her breath catches when he steps into her space. it’s overt, and more than friendly, and walt knows people are watching when vic’s eyes leave his to glance over his shoulder.
“careful there, walt,” she whispers, echoing his words from before. “what ever will the townspeople think?”
“i don’t care anymore,” walt answers, and he means it. looking down into vic’s deep brown eyes, he realizes that it was never worth it to pretend he doesn’t love her. he doesn’t know what else to say but needs her to know he’s serious, that he means it.
so he kisses her, right there in the middle of the red pony, in front of cady and god and half of absaroka county. people are gasping and laughing and cheering but walt can only focus on the way vic’s hands shoot out to grab the front of his jacket and the way she feels under his hands on her hips. this will have consequences later, his brain whispers. but walt really doesn’t give a damn, not right now and not later.
it’s not a particularly hot and heavy kiss, but when they break apart they’re both gasping for air like they’re drowning. vic looks up at him, soft and hopeful, like walt just told her he loves her, which. maybe he had.
“okay?” walt asks.
she nods, the corners of her mouth ticking up. “yeah.”
he’s accomplished his main goal and really has no idea what to do with himself now, so walt just returns her smile and takes his hat off her head. “okay.” he walks back to the bar and tries to ignore the stares he gets along the way. when he slides back to his barstool, henry has his head in his hands and his shoulders are shaking. he’s laughing, walt realizes.
“i knew it,” henry says through his laughing tears. “i knew it.”
walt doesn’t even dignify this with a response. “i’ll take that beer now, henry.”
“no need,” comes vic’s voice from behind him. she’s breathless, and her smile is blinding, and she’s the single most beautiful thing walt has ever seen. “we have beer at home.”
henry, still laughing and looking impossibly happy, waves them off. walt lets vic pull him out of the bar without so much a single glance behind him.
he is gonna be so late to breakfast with cady.