Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Texas sat in his room, idly strumming his guitar. It was late for him, going on two in the morning while he was usually snoring by midnight, but he just couldn't sleep.

He knew why, too. The absolute worst person he could've developed a crush on. He thought he had a chance, way back in the 1800s, but something had happened to his love, then the war broke out, then every time the two states started to rebuild their tentative friendship, another issue happened and their fighting would start all over again.

They were rarely on the same side these days, and both loved to argue almost as much as they both hated admitting fault. The two states got along well enough outside of politics, but the second Gov called a meeting, they were at each other's throats.

It was all just a tangled mess.

Texas cleared his throat, strumming softly so no one would hear him at this hour. Most of the states were asleep or holed up in their rooms at this time, anyway, the lone star state thought as he began to sing, channeling all his hopelessness into the lyrics. Even the strongest men were allowed the occasional moment of angst about their unrequited love.

"I'm in love with a boy I hate, he enjoys pointing out, every bad thing about me. I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic, a traitor, I'd trade him in a second."

Little did Texas know, the very boy he was singing about was not only wide awake, drinking iced coffee as they sketched out a commission, he could hear Texas's words. They immediately ditched their work to sit outside of the Southerner's door, just now noticing the guitar strumming in the background.

"He's a backseat driver, a drama provider, an instant update of the world. He's a first-class liar, a constant forgetter, attractive but bitter."

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Texas's scornful look and dark eyes fixed in a glare as the Southerner sang out his frustrations. He knew he had messed up their alliance more than once, but so did Texas. Neither state was all good or all bad throughout their complex personal history.

"Did ya scream enough to make him cry?
To turn around, turn around. Poppy, don't return to me, if you think, that I'm not worth your time. Take off your shoes, come in the room, nd Poppy let's try not to argue."

California sighed softly, inaudible due to Texas's singing. They hadn't heard that nickname in a long, long, time, and all those happier memories came rushing back. Their eyes were still closed as they sat on the floor near Texas's door.

They pulled their knees up to their chest, imagining they were back in the past and everything was okay. Or as okay as it got for the two states. They'd be at a campfire, or one of Texas's ranches, or in California's valley home.

He wondered if Texas had kept the necklace he gave the lone star state, or if he remembered which one of the scars on California's knuckles were from the first time he met his chickens.

"Turn out the lights, turn on the radio, nd how can we fight when I'm too busy lovin you? I'm too busy lovin you."

California also wondered if Texas knew there were still bluebells and hinckley columbines in all of their gardens. If Texas knew that their wild west hat, handmade leather with a ribbon stitched around the brim for dramatic flair, had a place of honor in their room. That it brought the golden state comfort, even when the two were debating on serious issues.

"Here I am, there you go again. We will not ever be 18 again. I'm worn out of fightin, and every night you leave crying. And I, I could use some time. Here I am, there you go again, again. So here I am, dying, waiting for you, waiting for you."

Wishful thinking invaded California's brain.
If only Texas-
If only he-
If only, if only, if only.

California sighed again, moving to get up. It didn't really matter. As lovely as Texas's voice was, there was no way California's current feelings were requited.

The lone star state was just mourning their past.

California would know, he had plenty of embarrassing sketchbooks filled with drawings, poetry, unsent letters, and other hopeful writings from or about that time.

The golden state went to gather his things, so intent on heading back to his room before getting caught that he almost missed Texas's final verse.

"Come back, come back to me, and I'll take you gladly. Well I'll take you any time."

Texas set his guitar down in it's case and yawned. He felt a lot better now so he decided to finally get some sleep. The lone star state wasn't aware he had an audience listening in as he glaced at the old framed daguerreotype on his bedside table.

"...Goodnight, Poppy."

Chapter Text

The old photo is Cal tucked under Tex's arm, both grinning as they stand in a sunny field.

It's in gray scale due to the technology at the time.

However, Texas has his old red shirt outfit on, no hat since he took it off for the daguerreotype, visibly muddy cowboy boots, and his short hair is slicked back with pomade. He also has the gold chain of a necklace just visible under his shirt's collar.

California is wearing a solid coloured jumper and a lighter gray bandana pulled down to their neck. Plus a pair of glasses, obviously, but no beanie & their wavy hair is tied back in a loose braid reaching their shoulder blades.

California is smiling directly at the camera and leaning all of their weight into Texas, whose eyes are drawn to the scrawny westerner and practically in hearts.

Texas keeps the photo on his nightstand as a reminder of the "good ol days" and he'll occasionally vent to it when Cal's being extra annoying or when he misses that time. Not that Texas would ever admit it, but just looking at that picture brings him comfort so he keeps it close.