Work Text:
Raylan was sat on his bed, drinking. Or more accurately, he was sprawled on his bed drinking. He had started upright but as the evening wore on, he had slid down inch by inch. The TV was playing some nonsense – Raylan had half-heartedly been listening to the news but now it appeared to be playing a classic holiday romance. Raylan groaned and took a gulp of the bottle clutched in his left hand.
Somehow the figure on the screen that had been the clean-cut love interest had morphed into Boyd Crowder. And he was talking to Raylan.
“Baby? Raylan? You listenin’?”
Raylan focused his blurry eyes on the screen. Boyd swam in and out of focus. He was dressed for the mines, but the layer of soot was absent. He clearly hadn’t been down yet. Start of the shift. The tattoo on his knuckles stood out – stark against the clean skin.
“I know Christmas is hard. Especially with Helen gone now but that doesn’t mean you should give up completely.”
Raylan laughed weakly. “Easy for you to say.”
“No, Raylan, no it’s not. I may not have cared that much for Bowman, but he was still my brother. The same with my daddy. We were family and that meant something.”
Raylan growled and it sounded suspiciously like ‘Arlo’. Boyd made a sympathetic sound.
“The Christmases of my childhood weren’t that rosy either,” Boyd reminded him. “My daddy would host the party, yes, but it was a way to talk to clients and potential buyers. We had to be perfectly polite to every one of them in case it went somewhere and talk sweet– “
“So that’s where you perfected it,” Raylan scoffed. Boyd smirked.
“Baby, I was born with this.”
Raylan rolled his eyes and took another swig from the bottle. He was feeling pleasantly loose, and well on the way to becoming fall-down drunk. Boyd tutted.
“Baby!” he said, sounding reproachful.
“Fuck off,” Raylan retorted. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not any more.”
Boyd sighed. “I just don’t want you to throw your life away. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. Being sent to Kentucky is just a little setback.” He sounded sad. “You’ll be out of here in no time and then you won’t have to think about Crowders or hillfolk or family feuds anymore.”
“ ‘s all the same,” Raylan said. “The world over. Just a little more personal here that’s all.”
“I know, baby, I know.”
“I miss you. I miss the days when we would take a truck up the woods and drink lukewarm coffee and watch the snow fall and kiss to keep warm. I miss your stupid truck even though the heater didn’t work properly and the glovebox fell open as soon as you went over a bump in the road. I miss the bruises on my knees from that.” Raylan trailed off and his voice got small. “I just miss you.”
A loud knock made Raylan jolt awake. He glanced up at the tv, but it was blank. The knock came at the door again. Insistent. Raylan struggled to his feet and took the few steps to pull it open.
Boyd stood on the other side.