seldomly | They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one

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They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one

( his couch is surprisingly comfortable --or maybe not so surprisingly, since she's pretty certain this is where he spends most of the time he isn't working-- and by the time he re-emerges, the adrenaline rush has slowly begun to fade, leaving her restless and in search of a different kind of buzz.

he's dressed so painfully ordinary that, just for a beat, she's actually taken aback. doesn't quite manage to suppress the chuckle that slips past her lips. both because it's so strange, and because if she laughs, then she doesn't have to admit to herself that it's not a bad look on him. )

Actually you can thank my dad for that one.

( it's not something she's ever kept secret, but still feels like an odd confession to be making to him of all people. blame the alcohol making her pleasantly warm, or the too comfortable press of his thigh against hers.

or the fact that she knows too much about his family and it feels only right to give him something. )

He used to take me hunting with him when I was younger. It was the fucking worst, but turns out I'm good with a gun. ( tipping her head back onto the couch, she watches him pull from the bottle, his mouth where hers had been, and wonders idly if he can feel it. ) Think maybe that's why I've always wanted to be a vet. Healing instead of killing, you know?

( look at her now. )

( there’s a knowing twist at the corner of his mouth, recognising the same irony she’s thinking about. )

You can contain multitudes, ( travis says dryly. (is it actually a walt whitman reference? might be.) but there’s some genuine thoughts circling his mind at this topic, some hazy consideration between the adrenaline and exhaustion and hot shower and the burn of the whiskey on his tongue, and laura giving him this. some small piece of her. so he dredges up the words to grant her something back, contemplative: )

The sheriff thing. The Hacketts pulled strings, put me there ‘cos it was useful. The family needed someone on the inside, someone who could cover up our tracks. But I still had… I thought it would be good to do some good, y’know? Spend long enough watching afternoon murder mystery re-runs and you start to think law and order can make a real difference, help people’s lives instead of just sweeping the ugly shit under the rug.

Anyway, point being. You’re still doing good. You can both help animals and kill monsters.

( even before agreeing to the hunt tonight, laura knew there was little about this situation that wasn't completely insane. the two of them still being in contact, working together like it's the most natural thing in the world. and now this, share and share alike. he starts to talk and she shifts on the couch, knee bumping his leg as she tucks her legs beneath her.

in any other situation, at any other time, she might have cut him off by now. chastised him for being so fucking maudlin. but tonight, at least for now, there's an easy comfortability between them and oddly, she's not ready to break that just yet. )

What did you want to be before? ( vaguely she waves a hand, as if indicating all the before. ) Before the wolves and family shit. When your future was still your own.

( it’s inescapably maudlin, but somehow it just fits the atmosphere of the evening: blood-drenched, tired, with a slight buzz making the cadence of the night slightly surreal and dream-like. it’s hard to imagine that they were out there just a few hours ago, on the road and hunting down another wolf. doing what they could to clean up the world and eliminate one more threat and leave people a little safer than they started.

he thinks about her question, and it’s so hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t the hacketts’ loyal dog. who was he if he wasn’t chained to his family, moulding himself to their expectations and their needs? )

You’re gonna fuckin’ laugh at me. ( a beat. laura kearney’s never avoided laughing at him, cruel and furious and he’d deserved it; but somewhere along the past three years, some of her viperous anger’s bled away until he’s not sure what’s left. )

You ever watch Magnum PI? I wanted to be a private eye. He lives on this, like, fuckin’ luxurious estate in Hawaii, surrounded by beautiful women, driving a Ferrari, choosing whatever jobs he wants to take, working only when he wants. Couldn’t grow the moustache, though.

( travis was only fifteen when it first started airing, and it had left its stamp on him. )

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They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one

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this was not worth the 18 year wait, but i miss them so much!

worth it!!