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Chapter Text

The first time Gus McCready meets Purgatory’s newest deputy, the kid's stepping out of Shorty’s, a swagger in her hips and a wide, happy grin dimpling her cheeks. Gus has seen that look before. Giddy and a little bit awestruck. It’s the typical reaction when customers (men most especially, but quite a few women and children too) have had the pleasure of meeting a certain town darling. But there’s something about this particular officer’s smile, the sheer joy in it, that somehow reminds Gus of Curtis and warms the cockles of her old curmudgeon’s heart.

Blissfully unaware of Gus’s approach, the deputy spins once on a thick boot heel and Gus bites the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling.

“Mornin' that good, officer?” Gus asks, half smirking.

The younger woman startles and stops short, face flushing, dark brown eyes wide.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” she answers. Her hands self-consciously grip the buckle of her utility belt. “Definitely a good morning, um, Mrs. McCready, ma’am.”

Gus lifts one salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “Know me already, do you?”

“Sheriff Nedley pointed you out when we were here yesterday for dinner.”

“You mean happy hour? When the sheriff spies on us all under the guise of,” Gus curls two fingers on each hand and carves quote marks in the air, “socializin'?”

The officer ducks her head, white Stetson obscuring her eyes, before she lifts it back up with a shrug and a small smile. “Yes ma’am.”

Gus scowls good-naturedly and waves her off, already taking a liking to the deputy. “It’s just Gus, sweetheart. None of that ma’am crap.”

“Yes ma… I mean, Gus.”

“Better.” Gus smiles. “And you’re the new rookie from the big city Nedley’s been waxin' on about.”

“Nicole.” She nods and offers a hand. “Nicole Haught.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Nicole." Gus shakes Nicole’s hand, impressed by her firm, yet gentle grip. She yanks her forward slightly. “Whatever Nedley told you about me, don’t you believe it.”

“And what if he told me all good things?”

“Like I said, don’t you believe it.” Gus winks and lets go of her hand. “You meet Waverly?”

The tips of Nicole’s ears redden, darker than her hair, and Gus knows without a doubt that she had hit the bullseye with her earlier guess about Nicole meeting the youngest Earp.

“Yeah, she,” Nicole’s eyes dart toward the entrance, seemingly at a loss of words before she settles on: “She’s sweet.”

“That she is,” Gus agrees. “Well, come ‘round and visit us again sometime soon, ya hear? Don’t be a stranger.”

Nicole tips the brim of her hat forward. “Have a good day, Gus,” she says, continuing on her way down the sidewalk toward the sheriff’s office with even more pep in her step than when she had first sauntered out of the saloon.

Shaking her head in amusement, Gus pulls open the wooden double doors and enters Shorty’s. Her eyebrows shoot up when she spots Waverly in her bra, leaning her elbows on the oak bar top. She’s holding a business card, a wide, happy grin on her face, not unlike the one Officer Haught had been sporting two minutes ago.

It’s a smile Gus has never seen before on Waverly. Not for Champ. Not for anyone.

“I know we said we wanted more customers, Waverly,” Gus drawls, “but last I checked this was still a bar and not a peep show.” 

Waverly jolts at the sound of her voice. “The tap busted,” she blurts out, flustered. “Again. Shorty really needs to get that fixed.”

“Uh huh.” Gus walks to the bar and braces her hands on the edge. She can smell the bitter hops from the beer-soaked blouse lying on the counter behind the bar.  “And you felt the need to change in front of the new deputy?”

“You, uh, you met her?”

“Bumped into her outside.” Gus drums her fingers. “Haught, right?”

“Totally,” Waverly says somewhat dreamily before she catches herself, “Uh, I mean, that’s her name, yup. Haught. Officer Haught.” She waves the business card pinched between her fingers. “And I’ve the card to confirm it.”

“Right,” Gus says, amused. She watches Waverly slip the card into the front pocket of her high-waisted shorts. “Well, why don’t you go get fixed up and I’ll get everythin' ready for openin'.”

Waverly nods and heads toward the stairs that lead up to her old loft. She’s halfway up when she stops. “Think you could fire up the cappuccino maker? I might bring one by the Sheriff’s office in a bit.”

“For Wynonna?” Gus asks as she walks behind the bar to examine the malfunctioning tap.

“Uh, yeah, Wynonna,” Waverly fidgets with her fingers, a clear tell that Gus instantly recognizes. Ever since she was a kid, Waverly could never be anything but honest, and Gus wonders why Waverly even tries to lie.

From several feet away, Gus can see the blush on Waverly’s face as she scurries up the steps. And for the second time that morning, Gus has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling.

Chapter Text

The second time Gus McCready comes across Nicole Haught, Purgatory’s first hard frost of the year has caked the ground in a fuzzy, crystalline white and cast the skies in endless shades of gray.

It’s gonna be a damn cold winter, Gus thinks as she drives lazily down the highway, cozy in the warm cabin of her beat-up Ford pickup. Johnny Cash’s deep voice croons in the background.

Next to her, Waverly shifts in her seat when she catches sight of something in the distance. “Hey, isn’t that Nicole?”

Gus squints down the road and, sure enough, sees Officer Haught standing off to the side of the road next to her police cruiser. The trunk's popped open and she's staring down at the rear passenger side tire.

“Looks like she could use some help,” Waverly points out and Gus stifles a sigh. She wants to get home and load up the truck with all the crap Curtis had left for the Earps in time to watch The Price is Right. But Gus knows Waverly can’t stop herself from helping every living soul on the planet. Hell, she’d stop and play the Good Samaritan to the devil himself if given the opportunity. It’s why they all loved her so much. Drew Carey would just have to wait.

“Guess so.” Gus pulls onto the shoulder and brings the truck to a rumbling stop just behind Haught’s squad car, tires crunching on gravel, brakes squealing.

Nicole blinks at them in pleasant surprise, one thumb hooked on her belt, while Waverly flips down the sun visor and quickly glances at her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down her hair and checking her teeth.

“This ain’t no runway, girl,” Gus gruffs out, rolling her eyes. She plops a knit hat over her graying curls and gets out of the car, the rusted door groaning open and shut. Waverly adjusts her layered scarves and follows.   

“Hey there, Gus, Waverly, fancy meeting you out here.” Nicole dips her hat and flashes an easy smile as they approach, her cheeks slapped pink from the chill. Though, judging by the way her brown eyes soften when they land on Waverly, who wriggles her gloved fingers in a shy wave, Gus suspects Nicole’s blush is from much more than just the cold.

“Likewise,” Gus greets. It’s so cold she can taste the ice in the air and she watches Nicole breathe out a stream of mist onto her hands and rub them together. “Gonna catch your death if you don’t start dressin’ properly.”

“Yeah, that’s what I get for not checking the weather,” Nicole says sheepishly. “I’m not used to the frost coming so early in the season.”

“Welcome to Purgatory,” Waverly chimes in with a smile, “where it’s sweltering one day and nipply the next.” She freezes when she realizes what just came out of her mouth and then cringes. “Nip… Nippy.”

“I’ll definitely remember that from now on,” Nicole chuckles while Gus shakes her head at Waverly, who turns completely red and burrows into her scarves. At any other time, Gus would wonder what in tarnation has gotten into Waverly, but really, only an idiot couldn’t put two and two together.

“So what seems to be the problem?” Gus asks, changing the subject to spare Waverly any further embarrassment.

“Flat tire.” Nicole pointing to the deflated rubber.

“That is a pickle,” Gus says. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Well, if you happen to have a jack, a lug wrench, and a spare tire I could borrow,” Nicole rubs the back of her neck, “it’d be much appreciated.”

Gus arches an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

“Wait, shouldn’t you already have all those things?” Waverly asks in confusion, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I should.” Nicole cants her head to the side. “If not for the fact that this seems to be a hazing ritual of sorts.”

“Ah, say no more.” Gus says, already heading back to the truck to retrieve the items. “You actually lucked out. One time those good ol’ boys at the station hid one rookie’s car in the Pine Barrens. Never saw him or the car again.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Nedley said he probably just gave up and went home,” Waverly says. “Don’t listen to Gus.”

Not bothering to point out that Nedley is as clueless a git as they come, especially not in front of his new officer, Gus shrugs and gathers the necessary tools. Her joints ache in the cold, but she grits her teeth through it, unbolts the spare, and rolls it back to Nicole and Waverly within a few minutes.

She doesn’t expect to find them standing even closer than they had been before. Nope. Doesn’t expect it in the slightest. And yet… somehow it feels entirely right. Gus can’t explain it. It just does.

Nicole’s hands are sandwiched between Waverly’s gloved ones, her thumbs gently swiping along the back of Nicole’s hands.  They’re in their own little world, smiling those smiles Gus is convinced are reserved for no one but each other. She can’t hear what they’re murmuring to each other and she feels guilty for intruding.

They break apart when they hear her clear her throat. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks Gus,” Nicole says with a grateful smile, dimples on full display.

“Did you need any help changing the tire?”

“Nah, I’ve got it from here.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Well all right.” Gus won’t continue arguing in sub-zero temperatures and is already turning back to the truck when Waverly interjects:

“It’d go a lot faster if we helped you.”

Gus resists another sigh.

“I’ve already taken up too much of your time,” Nicole insists. “I don’t want to keep you and Gus from the rest of your day.”

“It’s really not a problem,” Waverly says, playing with the fringes of her scarves. “‘I’m pretty handy. I could get that spare on in a jiff. Right Gus?”

“She’s like a one-woman pit crew,” Gus accedes, eyes darting between the two.

“You really don’t have to,” Nicole says.

“I know I don’t,” Waverly rocks onto the balls of her feet and tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ears. “But I want to.”

“I appreciate it, but…”

“Oh for cryin’ out loud!” Gus exclaims, throwing her hands up. “Waverly, I’m freezin’ my old ass off. Since you’ve got younger parts than me, why don’t you stay and help Nicole. I’ll head on over to the house and start packing up Curtis’s things.” She turns toward Nicole, whose mouth falls open. “You can drop her off when you’re done.”

Mind made up for all their sakes, Gus doesn’t wait for either of them to answer, turning briskly and walking back to the truck. She catches snippets of their conversation with each step she takes.

“Waverly Earp,” Nicole drawls affectionately, “you are my hero.”

“Please. It’s just a tire. It’s not like I’m saving your life or anything.”

“The way I see it, I’d be up shit creek without a paddle if not for you so you are most definitely a lifesaver.” A pause, then quietly, “Thank you.”

Shaking her head, Gus hops back into the pickup and starts the engine, the corners of her lips curling up into a small smile. She gives the girls one last wave and merges back onto the freeway, glancing in her rear view mirror just in time to catch Waverly unwinding one of her scarves and wrapping it around Nicole’s neck.

Chapter Text

Gus McCready has never outright disliked Champ Hardy. But she’s not particularly fond of him either. He’s a typical small town, dime-a-dozen doofus, Gus thinks, with his rodeo “fame” and boyish good looks being the only things that make him standout. Which really isn’t saying all that much. So she’s tolerated him, for Waverly’s sake, even though Gus always knew Waverly could do much, much better than a man-child who never quite treated her as well as she deserved.

And although Gus has secretly wanted Waverly to chuck him to the side of the road like yesterday’s garbage, she feels bad now that Waverly has actually dumped the fool.

Well.

Almost bad.

“And then I told her,” Champ slurs, clumsily slamming down his bottle of Bud, “that she’d always be the keeper of my boner.”

Champ laughs at his lame joke and Gus, scowling, takes it all back. She doesn’t feel bad for the yahoo in the slightest.

“It’s funny right?” Champ shakes his head, face ruddy and eyes bloodshot. “But instead of laughing, she says: A boner and a pickup aren’t the whole enchilada. Like, what does food even have to do with it, you know?”

After hours of listening to Champ cry into his cheap beer and bend the ear of anyone who would listen, Gus has had enough.

“Sounds to me like you just weren’t cuttin’ it, Champ,” she says.

“Aw, c’mon, Gus,” Champ says over some mild guffawing from nearby regulars who’ve also grown tired of his continued whining. “I’ve always been good to Waves. You know that.”

“Uh huh, if you define ‘good’ as tryin’ to cheat on her with her own sister.” Gus braces her hands on the bar in a wide stance, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.

Champ shrugs, running his hands through his limp, greasy hair. Gus wonders when he last showered.

“Stupid Carl was giving her shit and I was just trying to make Wynonna feel better. Nothing happened.”

“No thanks to you,” Gus says, clearing empty glasses from a vacated spot at the bar. She pulls a rag out of her back pocket and wipes away rings of condensation left on the oak.

Champ considers this for a moment, eyes blinking stupidly. “Maybe there’s another guy.” He snaps his fingers and takes another swig from his bottle. “Maybe this is payback.”

Gus’s hand stills as she thinks about a tall, redheaded deputy who apparently has rainbows shining out her ass, judging by the way Waverly watches her when she thinks no one's looking.

“I don’t think that’s it, son,” Gus says casually, slinging the rag over her shoulder. “Some people just aren’t meant to be.”

Like you two, Gus thinks. Waverly’s meant for more than this godforsaken town. Gus has felt that in her bones for as long as she can remember. And Waverly certainly deserves more than a dingleberry of a high school boyfriend. She takes a sip of water. Waverly deserves someone like...

“Haught,” Champ says and Gus nearly chokes. Maybe Champ isn’t nearly as thick-skulled as she thinks.

“What?”

But he’s ignoring her and blearily squinting at the entrance. “Maybe she knows.”  

Gus glances over her shoulder and sees Nicole at the top of the foyer steps. Still in her uniform but hatless, Nicole scans the room, clearly looking for a certain someone and disappointed when she doesn’t see her.

“Hey,” Champ stands, legs wobbly, and waves Nicole over. “Officer, c’mere for a sec.”

Nicole’s brown eyes land on him and she nearly rolls them. Although she looks like she'd rather walk right back out, she grips her belt buckle and makes her way toward them, boots clicking confidently on the hardwood floor to the beat of the country song twanging from the jukebox.

“Champ,” Nicole greets politely and nods at Gus.

“Finished your shift?” Gus asks.

“Sure did.” Nicole eyes Champ warily. “What can I do for you?”

“You’ve been hanging out with Waverly a lot lately.” He teeters a bit before he plops back onto his stool. “Maybe you could tell us if she’s interested in someone?”

“Uh,” Nicole stiffens, clearly taken aback by the question though she forces her shoulders to relax, “‘scuse me?”

Champ chugs down the rest of his beer, a bit of foam dribbling out the corners of his mouth. When he finishes, he lets out a loud, juicy burp. Both Gus and Nicole can barely disguise their disgust, and Gus has to count to 10 to keep herself from smacking him upside his head.

“She broke up with me,” he blubbers.

“She…” Nicole shakes her head, as if she can’t quite comprehend the words that just came out of Champ’s mouth. “She what?”

“You didn’t know?” This truly surprises Gus, who raises her eyebrows. “Thought you and Waverly were thick as thieves.”

“No.” Nicole’s brow furrows. “No, she didn’t say.”

“I’m sure she just got busy,” Gus tries to explain, unable to shake the feeling that they’re entering dangerous territory and she needs to steer them back to safer ground. “With whatever shenanigans Wynonna, the deputy marshall, and that jackass cowboy get into. It’s why she called in tonight.”

“Yeah, sure,” Nicole says, something akin to hurt flashing in her dark eyes.

“So is she?” Champ interrupts, oblivious, sliding his empty bottle toward Gus. “Interested in someone?”

“Um…”

“Bet it’s Pete. The bastard’s had his eye on her for a while.” He motions for another drink, but Gus firmly shakes her head.

“I think you’ve had enough, son,” Gus says and Champ groans like a bratty 5-year-old.

Uncomfortable, Nicole shifts her weight from one foot to the next, debating about how to respond. “I’m sorry, Champ,” she finally says, softly, sincerely. “I don’t think I can help you.”

“S’fine,” Champ sighs, digging into his pocket and tossing some cash on the bar. “Waverly Earp’s not the only fish in the… in the water for me to fry.”

Nicole opens her mouth to correct him, but Gus just shakes her head to stop her. It’s not worth the effort.

“And there’re plenty of girls who’d gladly turn off their brains for me,” Champ continues, cockily jutting his thumbs toward his chest.

“God help them,” Gus mutters under her breath, loud enough for Nicole to smirk.

Champ tries to stand but ends up losing his balance, knocking his stool over in the process. And Nicole, despite her better judgment, catches him by the arm and keeps him upright and steady.

Gus groans, pinching the bridge of her nose to keep her temper in check. “Get him a cab, will ya?” She asks Nicole.

“I’ll do you one better.” Nicole nods with a resigned, but tight smile. “I’ll personally make sure he gets home safe.” She takes in a deep breath. “Let’s go, Champ.”

“Why’re you helping me?” Champ mumbles as Nicole drapes his arm over her shoulder and curls her own arm around his waist. “You don’t even like me.”

Nicole doesn’t disagree. “But Waverly does,” she answers, earning a snort from Champ. “Breakup or no, I think she’d be pretty upset if something happened to you.”

Gus watches them appraisingly, the soft spot she’s had for Nicole growing even larger by the second.

“You know,” Champ says, leaning in close until he’s nearly nose to nose with Nicole, “you’re not so bad after all.”

“Thanks. Wish I could say the same about your breath.” Annoyance thinly veiled, she pushes his face away from hers and starts toward the door.

“You free Friday?”

“No.”

“Saturday?”

Nicole huffs out through gritted teeth. “Sorry, Champ, but you’re not my type. And if you don’t keep your hands to yourself, I swear you’ll wake up in the drunk tank with a black eye.”

Their voices grow fainter and fainter until they disappear entirely when they stumble out the double doors. Gus sighs and and refocuses her energy on taking orders and pouring drinks. She thinks she’s getting too old to be dealing with unrequited love and potentially messy love triangles. Those are problems best left for the youth. And yet, she knows she’ll probably need to have a little talk with Waverly. And soon.

But speak of the devil, and the devil strolls in.

Not five minutes later, Waverly enters with her hair damp from a fresh shower, eyes darting expectantly around the bar. Her expression falls when all she sees are the usual faces, and Gus wearily braces herself for round two of Purgatory’s version of The Young and the Restless.

Waverly shuffles toward the bar, smiling and waving at the patrons who greet her, until she’s standing opposite Gus.

“Hey Gus,” she starts as unconvincingly unconcerned as possible, “slow night?”

“No slower than normal.”

Waverly nods and drums her fingers on the bar top. “You wouldn’t have happened to see…”

“Nicole?”

Waverly flushes, but nods, still trying to play it cool, as the kids would say.

“You just missed her,” Gus says.

“Oh.” Waverly frowns.

“Left not five minutes ago.” Gus pauses. Best to rip the band-aid off fast. “With Champ.”

“What?” Waverly yelps, clears her throat, then lowers her voice. “Why?”

Gus shrugs. “He’s been drowning his sorrows all night long. She offered to help get him home.”

“Oh…” Waverly sinks onto a stool, a tender smile appearing on her face before it vanishes as quickly as it came when the implications sink in. “Shit.”

Gus says nothing, just slips her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and patiently waits.

“Shit,” Waverly repeats, a myriad of emotions passing over her face. “I’ve… I’ve gotta go.”

She doesn’t even let Gus respond before she’s rushing out the door and Gus can only sigh once again, hoping to heaven almighty that those kids get their shit together soon before they drive her insane.

Chapter Text

“Just how many of these do you need exactly?” Gus asks as she picks up a green satin throw pillow with a large red star in the center. It's one of about a dozen pillows of all shapes, colors, and sizes in Waverly’s shopping cart. She twirls it between her hands, marveling at the number of tassels that could fit on a small, cotton-stuffed square.

“Enough to make the Homestead, you know, homey,” Waverly replies, snatching the pillow from Gus, dropping it back into the basket, and checking off the item in her notepad with the swipe of a tiny pencil. “Everything’s gotta be perfect.”

“For Stephanie Jones?” Gus scrunches her face up, like she just caught a whiff of cow dung, and pushes the cart behind Waverly, its ungreased wheels squeaking softly. “You barely even like her.”

“Don’t be silly, Gus,” Waverly says, leading them down an aisle filled with party decorations. “Of course I like her. She’s my friend. I mean, I am in her bridal party.”

“If you say so,” Gus mutters under her breath. Truth be told, Gus likes Stephanie Jones even less than Champ Hardy. While Waverly’s ex is a dimwit, at least he isn’t a mean-spirited, vapid dimwit like Stephanie, who bolsters her insecurities with barbed put-downs of her so-called “friends.”

Waverly doesn’t hear her, or pretends not to. She focuses instead on studying the rest of the items on her list, as if she hasn’t already memorized it long ago.

“This’ll go faster if we split up,” Waverly announces as she rips out a page from the pad and hands it to Gus. “Would you mind getting the wine? I’ll bring the cart around in a few.”

“Tell me again why Wynonna isn’t here helping us?”

“You know she hates Stephanie, and the feeling is mutual, and if Wy finds out about the party, who knows what she’ll do,” Waverly says, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.

Gus has to admit that crashing a party is definitely Wynonna’s style, and a part of her wishes she could be a fly on the wall for that particular catastrophe, just to see the look on Stephanie’s face.

“I need this one night of… of normal, you know?” Waverly says.

“Normal’s overrated.”

“Please Gus.” Waverly wriggles the paper in the air, eyes wide and pleading.

Gus sighs. She never could quite say no to Waverly. She snatches the piece of paper, begrudgingly so, turning it upside down and back as she squints at the words scribbled on it: Gewürztraminer and Grüner Veltliner and Assyrtiko and Grenache Blanc.

“What in the flyin' hell?” Gus scowls. “You know Stephanie Jones’s been drinkin’ moonshine off her daddy’s porch since she was 12, right?”

But Waverly only smiles and gives her a peck on the cheek with a, “Thanks Gus,” before she’s disappearing up the aisle in search of God knows what else.

Exhaling sharply, Gus rakes her fingers through her silver curls, resigned, and goes to find the alcohol all the way at the other end of the store. She moseys around the beer and cider section, moves past the red wine, turns a corner to the whites and almost runs headlong into another customer.

A very familiar customer.

One who looks so different out of her police uniform that Gus has to do a double take.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Nicole Haught says, holding her hands up in apology, before she recognizes who she nearly bumped into and a smile breaks out on her face. “Oh, hey there, Gus.”

“Officer,” Gus responds automatically, struck by how pretty Nicole looks in her civvies: sneakers, dark blue jeans, and a soft gray v-neck sweater that contrasts quite nicely with the auburn of her loose flowing hair.

“Just Nicole today. None of that ‘officer’ crap,” Nicole winks, referencing their first meeting.

“All right then, just Nicole.” Gus rolls her eyes, but chuckles. “What brings you to the big city?”

Without her usual belt, Nicole tucks her hands into her back pockets. “Spending the day with a friend. You?”

“Apparently I’m Waverly’s minion for the day,” she says, waving the wine list.

Nicole straightens and runs a hand through her hair. “Oh, uh, Waverly’s here?”

“Somewhere ‘round here, yep.” Gus purses her lips. Well of course Waverly’s presence would be what Nicole zones in on, and not the part about Waverly conscripting a poor old lady into slave labor.

The sound of squeaky wheels behind Gus prefaces the appearance of said Earp, who absentmindedly types on her cellphone as she wheels the shopping cart straight in Nicole’s direction. “Gus, did you find the wine…?”

“Now, hold on, ma’am,” Nicole playfully drawls, holding a hand out to stop the cart before it runs her over. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s illegal to text and drive at the same time?”

“Nicole!” Waverly squeaks and pulls to a stop. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s okay. I’ll let you off with a warning this time.” She waggles a finger at Waverly, mock stern, and then grins. Gus swears Waverly visibly melts at the sight of Nicole’s dimples.

“And wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of your uniform,” Waverly’s eyes sweep up and down Nicole’s frame. “You look terrific,” she shakes her head, “I mean, not that you look bad normally. You always look the, uh, opposite of bad.”

Waverly’s rambling makes Gus want to face-palm herself out of second-hand embarrassment. Nicole, however, only laughs, seemingly flattered by Waverly’s awkward compliment.

“Thanks, Waves,” Nicole says, inclining her head forward. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” She eyes the cart’s basket, now filled to the brim with pink silk daisies, paper lanterns, pennant banners, and the like, in addition to the throw pillows. “Looks like you’re planning quite the shindig.”

“Oh.” Waverly looks down at the decorations, surprised, as if she’s forgotten about them. “It’s nothing big. Just a small gathering for a friend’s bachelorette party on Saturday.”

Nicole nods slowly. “Lucky friend.”

Waverly smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear, brown eyes softening, and Gus just watches them do that staring thing they always seem to do whenever they’re together. Gus is used to it. They just can’t help themselves. But Gus, having no intention of being the third wheel yet again to Waverly and Nicole’s odd courtship dance/foreplay/whatever, coughs into her fist and snaps them both out of their trance.

“The wine,” Gus reminds Waverly with a smirk.

“Oh, right, the wine!” Waverly’s cheeks turns three shades of pink and she scans the shelves, quickly grabbing the bottles she wants and placing them in the cart. The last one, however, is on the topmost shelf, just out of reach for Waverly even on her tiptoes.

“Here let me get that for you,” Nicole offers, sidling up to Waverly and stretching up an arm to easily retrieve the wine.

She hands the bottle to Waverly, both blushing when their fingers come into contact, and Gus has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. They’re so obviously smitten. But also absitively, posolutely clueless, and Gus has half a mind to knock some sense into them and lock them up in a closet somewhere together.

Gus is about to interrupt for a second time when someone else beats her to the punch.

“Hey, there you are!” A new voice chimes in.

They all turn to watch a woman approach. She’s beautiful. Wavy blonde hair, heart-shaped face, crystal blue eyes. She’s the kind of drop-dead gorgeous that graces the cover of magazines at the local newsstand. Gus’s lips part slightly when the stranger slides a hand down Nicole’s arm. Waverly, meanwhile, is openly gaping at the two of them, the familiarity of the touch not lost on her in the slightest.

“Thought I lost you in here,” the blonde steps close to Nicole.

Much closer than strictly necessary, Gus thinks. She watches Waverly out of the corner of her eye, noting the way her throat constricts as she swallows. Waverly’s fingers twitch and wrap so tightly around the neck of the wine bottle that Gus is afraid she just might crack the glass.

“Sorry,” Nicole smiles sheepishly, seemingly comfortable with the invasion of her personal space. “I ran into some folks from Purgatory here and got a little sidetracked.” She gestures between the three women. “Morgan, this is Waverly and Gus. Guys, this is Morgan Freeman. We were roommates at the academy. She works for Metro PD now.”

“Morgan Freeman?” Gus asks. “Like the…”

“Yup.” Morgan rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “It was only embarrassing the first 10 times. But my parents love him and I guess there could be worse actors to be named after.”

Morgan gives them both a wide smile, shaking Gus’s hand first, her grip firm. “Nice to meet you, Gus,” she says. She turns toward Waverly and something flashes in her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to be Waverly the Earp descendant?”

Waverly’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Yeah, that’s me,” she says, shaking Morgan’s hand with a tight, but polite, smile on her face.

“Nicole talks about you all the time.”

“What?” Nicole blurts out. “Not like, all the time.” She self-consciously rubs the back of her neck.

“Yeah sure, Nicole, my mistake,” Morgan says, not so subtly mouthing, All the time, to Waverly, whose smile widens into a more earnest, flattered grin. “I’ve gotta be honest. I was worried when Nicole got assigned to Purgatory. It’s got like the highest incidents of unexplained disappearances and homicides per capita in the province.”

“Really?” Gus asks, playing dumb and trading innocent glances with Waverly.

“Yup. But she tells me the people are great and that she loves it there. Right Nicole?” Morgan playfully bumps Nicole’s hip with her own, knocking her a bit off balance.

“Uh, yeah,” Nicole says quietly after she recovers, licking her lips slightly. “There’s definitely… a lot to love.” Her eyes lock onto Waverly’s for several beats.

Morgan’s gaze darts between the two women, curiosity unabashedly piqued by their unspoken dialogue. She glances at Gus, lifting one eyebrow, and Gus can only shrug, glad that she’s not the only one who sees it.

Nicole suddenly clears her throat. “You still need to visit,” she says, turning back toward Morgan.

“I plan on it,” Morgan promises. “So, listen, I’m gonna go grab the red. When you’re done, you can meet me back at the car.”

“Sounds good.” Nicole nods.

“It was nice meeting you, Waverly, Gus,” Morgan says genuinely.

“Likewise,” Gus says, while Waverly murmurs, “you too.”

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon enough.” With one last grin, Morgan disappears around the corner of the aisle, leaving Gus, Waverly, and Nicole alone again.

They stand awkwardly for a few moments before Gus decides she too has had enough second-hand unresolved sexual tension for one day.

“Why don’t I get the rest of the stuff and I’ll see you at the registers, Wave,” she suggests, plucking the wine bottle from Waverly’s hands and the notepad from her purse. “Good seeing you, Nicole.”

Nicole nods at her and Gus commandeers the cart, following Morgan’s footsteps and rounding the same corner only to nearly crash into Morgan in the next aisle over. Morgan places a finger to her lips in a shushing motion and jerks her head in the direction of Waverly and Nicole, who they could see somewhat through the shelving slats.

Gus isn’t one for spying, but she’d be lying if she said wasn’t curious as hell. Despite her better judgment, she parks the cart next to Morgan and bends an ear toward the couple.

“Morgan seems nice,” Waverly pipes up.

“She is,” Nicole agrees. “The academy would have been a lot tougher without her there, I think.”

“So… you guys are hanging out today, drinking wine. Just a couple of gals…being pals?” Waverly tries to asks casually though the question is anything but, and Gus inwardly groans at Waverly’s transparency. Morgan, meanwhile, covers her mouth with a hand, stifling her laughter.

“Waverly,” Nicole says her name tenderly. “Morgan and I, we’re just friends.”

“Right, of course.” Waverly lets out a nervous laugh, relief evident. “Friends. Like, you and me.”

Silence from Nicole, and then: “Right.”

“We are friends, aren’t we?” Waverly asks, now sounding unsure.

“Of course,” Nicole says, her voice thicker, low. “I just… don’t think I’ve had a friend quite like you, Waverly.”

Oh my God, Morgan mouths to Gus and then quickly retreats further down the aisle, motioning for Gus to follow.

“Oh my God,” Morgan repeats when she’s sure they’re out of earshot. “Jesus, those two have it so bad. Are they always like this?”

“You mean painfully hopeless?”

Morgan nods incredulously and Gus can only chuckle, inordinately pleased to have finally found a fellow viewer for Purgatory’s own version of The Young and the Restless.

“Girl, you don’t know the half of it.”

Chapter Text

Gus never believed in soulmates, at least, not until she met Curtis. And even then, it took a while for her to fall for him. He was an odd duck, for sure, what with his strange, somewhat homely looks and his endless fascination with the occult. But his goofy, yet endearing charm and undying loyalty won her over in the end, and she became a believer.

Of true love.

Fate.

She keeps it all wrapped underneath a scowl, of course. Wears her gruff exterior as proudly as her favorite handkerchief tied around her neck. Ensures her bark was worse than her bite. But, oh, does she believe. And because she had been lucky enough to experience it herself, she now prides herself in her ability to recognize when two souls are meant to be.

Like a certain young Earp and a rookie deputy.

From the very first time Gus had seen Waverly and Nicole interact--from afar at the saloon when Shorty had passed, with Nicole comforting a distraught Waverly--Gus had an inkling that they were “the ones” for each other, even if they didn’t see it themselves.

And now, leaning against the door frame of the Homestead, Gus is positive she’s right.

She watches as Nicole steps gingerly out of her police cruiser, hair down, uniform khakis wrinkled from a morning spent on crowd control and getting shot in the chest by Willa.

Gus didn’t go to Bobo Del Rey’s party, having no love for that particular nutsack and no interest in gussying herself up. Instead, she spent the night in her PJs watching reruns of the Golden Girls, missing out on all of Purgatory going to hell in a poisoned champagne bucket.

But Waverly filled her in that morning, crying about Willa’s betrayal and attempted murder of her girlfriend, as well as Bobo’s claim that she wasn’t an Earp. And Gus, drained after assuring Waverly that she was 100 percent Earp no matter what some revenant said, called said girlfriend, who was already enroute after being discharged from the hospital. The second they heard the slow crunch of tires on gravel, Waverly, eyes puffy and nose red, was up and out of the house.

Even from a distance, Gus can see relief smoothing the lines on Nicole’s forehead as Waverly bounds toward her. Nicole barely  finishes rounding the car before Waverly’s wrapping her arms around her shoulders while Nicole slides her own around Waverly’s waist. They melt into the embrace, breathing each other in, and Gus knows she should give them their privacy. But she can’t quite look away.

They’re lovely in the waning light of the late morning sun, silhouetted against the bleak winter snow, and Gus’s heart contracts and expands at the sight, memories of Curtis stirring within her chest.

They pull back and Nicole winces, prompting Waverly’s hands to flutter over her in concern. Gus can’t hear what they’re saying, but their body language speaks volumes. Waverly gently lays her palm over Nicole’s heart; right where the bullet made impact, Gus suspects. Are you okay? You shouldn’t have driven all this way. I would have come to you. Nicole curls her fingers around Waverly’s wrist. I promise you. I’m fine. Better now actually.

Nicole’s brow furrows as she takes Waverly in, noticing her watery eyes. She oh so tenderly cradles Waverly’s jaw between her hands and tilts her face up. Are you okay? Waverly shakes her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. Am I okay? I’m not the one who got shot, silly. Nicole brushes them away with the pads of her thumbs, Waverly…

The heavy sound of boots clunking on wood behind Gus pulls her attention from the couple. Wiping her eyes quickly, she turns her head slightly and is relieved to see Wynonna approaching. She must have entered through the back door. The black leather of her favorite jacket is torn along one side, jeans ripped and damp and stained with mud. When she meets Gus’s stare, Wynonna’s normally vibrant green eyes are worn and dull, her shoulders slumped. And Gus knows, deep in the marrow of her bones, that something has gone horribly wrong.

“You look like shit,” Gus welcomes brusquely, trying and failing to swallow down her worry.

Wynonna tilts her head to the side, one corner of her lips quirking up. “Why thank you, Gus,” she says. “I can always count on you to be bright and chipper in the morning.”

She stands next to Gus and looks out the screen door, her gaze landing on the new couple just as Waverly rises on the balls of her feet to kiss Nicole tenderly.

“Geez, they’re still at it.” Wynonna slouches against the opposite side of the door frame, shaking her head, tone laced with a tired warmth.

“‘Bout damn time, if you ask me.”

Wynonna snaps her head toward Gus. “Wait, you knew?”

Gus raises an eyebrow as she gives Wynonna a sidelong glance. “Didn’t everyone?”

“Uh, totally,” Wynonna snorts, covering up what looks like a quick grimace with an over-exaggerated shrug. “Just checking that you weren’t getting slow in your old age and all.”

“Sure.” Gus rolls her eyes.

Wynonna looks down at the leather holster on her hip. “I almost let Willa shoot Nicole,” she says quietly, fingers tracing the grip of the buntline special. “To protect Peacemaker.”

“But you didn’t.” Gus can guess why.

“No, but Willa shot her anyway.”

Gus’s stomach twists. She’s loved the Earps as if they were her own daughters, and part of her still can’t quite accept Willa’s turn to darkness.

“I can’t protect anyone.” Wynonna’s words crack, a tremor in her lips. “Not Daddy. Not Curtis or Shorty.” She swipes at her cheeks angrily. “Not Willa. Again. I don’t know how to tell Waverly.”

Gus closes her eyes against the burn that rises behind them. And although Gus’s heart breaks all over again, she understands that she has to be strong. Now’s not the time to fall apart. Not when her girls need her.

She reaches out and lays a hand on Wynonna’s shoulder. “You did what you had to do,” Gus says, voice rough with tears. “‘We’re not dead. The town’s still here. That’s somethin’.”

“Is it?”

Gus nods, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “It’s somethin’ to me. And to them.” She nods toward Waverly and Nicole, who are now walking back toward the house hand-in-hand, fingers intertwined. “And everyone else who’s still breathin’. From where I’m standin’, you’ve saved a helluva lot more than we’ve lost.”

Wynonna covers Gus’s hand with her own and squeezes back, a frisson of sorrow passing between them. And painful understanding. From one protector to another.

They allow themselves to dwell in the ache for just that moment, before it’s dispelled by Waverly calling out Wynonna’s name. Clearing her throat, Wynonna pushes open the screen door and Waverly barrels into her older sister, knocking her back into the house.

“Hey, Waves,” Wynonna says, clinging to Waverly like a lifeline and glances at Nicole, who steps into the foyer. “You best be treating my baby sister right, Haught.”

“Always,” Nicole says, cheeks flushed. She dips her head in greeting at Gus, who winks in return.

Now that everything’s out in the open, Gus has half a mind to let Nicole know she has .38 special with her name on it if she ever hurts Waverly. But the words die in her throat. They’re not necessary. Nicole could have run. Could have wiped her hands clean of the Earps after she had almost been killed. But she didn't. She's there, watching Waverly and Wynonna, dark eyes warm and soft with affection. And Gus feels it. Knows without a doubt that somehow, someway, everything would be okay.