Burn Me Down (Common Law Fic)
Jul. 10th, 2015 12:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Burn Me Down
Fandom: Common Law
Pairing: Travis Marks + Wes Mitchell
Word Count: 1,234
Rating: PG-13 because I can’t remember if there’s any swearing or not.
Summary: Travis likes fireworks and Wes likes quiet nights.
Author’s Note: Another amazing prompt from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
c8h7n3o2. Even though it’s late, hopefully you enjoy your 4th of July fic.
Side Note: While watching Lip Sync Battle last night, I was treated to the perfect description for Travis and it comes from Salt ‘N’ Pepa’s song “Schoop”: Chocolate chip, honey dip (I want a scoop). Hah!
“Hey Wes,” Travis said, sitting on the corner of his partner’s desk, invading his very personal space. “You want to go watch some fireworks with me tonight? My foster sister, Alina, gave me the scoop on a really great place she goes to every year.”
“Why on earth would you want to go out, sit in the heat, and watch fireworks,” Wes asked, pulling his eyes off the report he was finishing for Travis. “We’re nearly thirteen degrees above normal today, making it even hotter than usual.”
“Aw, it’s not so hot once the sun goes down,” Travis lied. “Come on, man. It’ll be fun.”
“There’s nothing fun about fireworks, Travis. Do you have any idea how many people get hurt every year playing around with them?”
“No, I don’t, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” Travis muttered.
Wes gave him the stink eye. “In 2013, over eleven thousand – thousand, Marks – people were treated in emergency rooms around the country for fireworks-induced injuries.”
“How many of those idiots were drunk?”
Wes continued to stare at his partner. “Like you plan on staying sober.”
Travis gave him a sheepish shrug. “This is why no one likes you, baby. You’re no fun.”
“At least I’ll still have all my fingers, toes, and eyeballs in the morning, Marks.” Wes turned back to his report, attempting to tune Travis out.
“Whatever,” Travis said, waving a hand at Wes in dismissal. “Enjoy your long, boring, lonely night watching fireworks from the balcony of your hotel.”
More like from the comfort of his air conditioned bedroom, but he wasn’t going to admit to that out loud. “Try not to blow yourself up, Travis,” he said instead. “Or burn down the state, okay?”
“Right,” Travis said, sliding off the edge of Wes’ desk. “I know how to be safe and sane on the fourth, whether you believe it or not.”
He refused to allow himself to look up until he was certain Travis was gone. There wasn’t any way that boy knew how to be safe or sane if their past history was anything to go by. Wes decided to keep his scanner on during the night. Just in case.
Wes was still sitting at his desk when the call announcing a brush fire came in. He snapped to attention when it was followed with a request for the fire department and EMS to respond. Dispatch rattled off a vaguely familiar address, one that Wes quickly reconciled with the area Travis had said he was going to celebrate from.
“Travis, seriously,” Wes muttered, standing and holstering his gun. “I knew you couldn’t stay out of trouble for one freaking minute.”
While en route to the scene of the event, Wes debated whether he was angrier at the fact Travis didn’t know the meaning of ‘safe and sane’ or that this little incident was keeping him from his warm, cozy bed and a good, sound sleep. Deciding that neither answer would ever go over well with Travis, he stopped worrying about it and decided to be pissed off on both counts. At the rate he was going, he could figure out a third, more reasonable reason for ripping his partner’s head from his shoulders in front of god, the LAPD, and everyone.
“Fire’s out,” he heard as he approached the ambulance. A member of the Los Angeles Fire Department wiped a hand across his damp forehead.
“How bad was it,” Wes asked, stepping into the light cast by the interior of the EMS vehicle.
“A small, easily contained brush fire, thankfully.” The firefighter tilted his head and looked at Wes. “I know you, don’t I?”
Wes nodded. He and Travis had made friends with more than a few members of the LAFD over the years. “Wes Mitchell, LAPD.”
“Right,” the firefighter said, smiling. “Robert Morgan, LAFD, obviously. And that’s your idiot partner over there, isn’t it? I thought he looked familiar.” He pointed towards Travis and sighed.
“Sadly, yes it is. He wasn’t the one who caused the fire, was he?”
“Only by proxy. He was lighting a bottle rocket –”
“Aren’t those illegal? Jesus, Travis.”
“Quite,” Morgan chuckled. “As he was lighting his contraband, one of those drunken idiots over there with your buddies from the LAPD bumped into him, knocking the lighter out of his hand and into some dry brush.”
It always happened that way. The state went through a drought, drying out every bit of foliage within a million miles, and then the public thinks it’s a good idea to set things on fire. Which sadly ended up being a good portion of the county. “Is he being charged with anything?”
Morgan shook his head. “Nope. Even though he was playing with illegal fireworks, he only had the one on his person, so they’re not going to pursue it. The LAPD is more concerned with the drunken fools who ran into him, worried they might cause more than an little flare up before the night’s over.”
“Smart thinking,” he said. “Thanks for the info.” Wes stuck out his hand and shook with the firefighter.
“Anytime, Mitchell. We live to serve.”
Walking away from the handsome member of the LAFD, Wes approached his partner, frowning. As expected, Travis was sitting in the back of an ambulance, chatting up the pretty paramedic treating a couple minor burns he’d given himself. “For the love of god, Travis, why couldn’t you just stay home for once?”
Travis pulled his eyes off the pretty Latina woman and glared at Wes. “Because I’m not a stick in the mud like you are, that’s why.”
“So, it’s more fun to try and set Los Angeles on fire?” Wes shook his head, furious now that he could see Travis was fine.
The paramedic looked from her patient to Wes and back again. Excusing herself, she hopped out of the back of the ambulance and wandered away, looking for someone – anyone – else to treat. Waiting until she’d turned her back on them, Wes took her place beside Travis.
“I told you these things were dangerous! You could have caused a lot of damage or even been hurt, Marks.”
A wide, incorrigible smile spread across Travis’ perfectly annoying face. “And I knew that you couldn’t resist coming and seeing the action with me, baby. OUCH. Why’d you hit me?”
Wes watched Travis rub the back of his head for a long moment, trying to decipher exactly why he had slapped his partner upside the noggin. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was still angry or if maybe he was actually relieved that Travis was still in one piece despite it all. “Honestly Marks, I have no idea, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
“Man, that’s not fair.”
Shrugging, Wes hopped out of the ambulance. “Think about that next time you disregard my advice.”
Knowing that Travis would be treated and released, he could go back to the station – no, wait, home – and take a long, hot shower before crawling into bed and forgetting all about Travis Marks and his stupid habit of doing irresponsible things for a few hours. Wes figured he owed himself that much, even if tomorrow would mean it starting all over again.
God love Travis Marks. When he was around, there wasn’t ever a dull moment. No matter how much you prayed for one.
Fandom: Common Law
Pairing: Travis Marks + Wes Mitchell
Word Count: 1,234
Rating: PG-13 because I can’t remember if there’s any swearing or not.
Summary: Travis likes fireworks and Wes likes quiet nights.
Author’s Note: Another amazing prompt from
c8h7n3o2. Even though it’s late, hopefully you enjoy your 4th of July fic. Side Note: While watching Lip Sync Battle last night, I was treated to the perfect description for Travis and it comes from Salt ‘N’ Pepa’s song “Schoop”: Chocolate chip, honey dip (I want a scoop). Hah!
“Hey Wes,” Travis said, sitting on the corner of his partner’s desk, invading his very personal space. “You want to go watch some fireworks with me tonight? My foster sister, Alina, gave me the scoop on a really great place she goes to every year.”
“Why on earth would you want to go out, sit in the heat, and watch fireworks,” Wes asked, pulling his eyes off the report he was finishing for Travis. “We’re nearly thirteen degrees above normal today, making it even hotter than usual.”
“Aw, it’s not so hot once the sun goes down,” Travis lied. “Come on, man. It’ll be fun.”
“There’s nothing fun about fireworks, Travis. Do you have any idea how many people get hurt every year playing around with them?”
“No, I don’t, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” Travis muttered.
Wes gave him the stink eye. “In 2013, over eleven thousand – thousand, Marks – people were treated in emergency rooms around the country for fireworks-induced injuries.”
“How many of those idiots were drunk?”
Wes continued to stare at his partner. “Like you plan on staying sober.”
Travis gave him a sheepish shrug. “This is why no one likes you, baby. You’re no fun.”
“At least I’ll still have all my fingers, toes, and eyeballs in the morning, Marks.” Wes turned back to his report, attempting to tune Travis out.
“Whatever,” Travis said, waving a hand at Wes in dismissal. “Enjoy your long, boring, lonely night watching fireworks from the balcony of your hotel.”
More like from the comfort of his air conditioned bedroom, but he wasn’t going to admit to that out loud. “Try not to blow yourself up, Travis,” he said instead. “Or burn down the state, okay?”
“Right,” Travis said, sliding off the edge of Wes’ desk. “I know how to be safe and sane on the fourth, whether you believe it or not.”
He refused to allow himself to look up until he was certain Travis was gone. There wasn’t any way that boy knew how to be safe or sane if their past history was anything to go by. Wes decided to keep his scanner on during the night. Just in case.
Wes was still sitting at his desk when the call announcing a brush fire came in. He snapped to attention when it was followed with a request for the fire department and EMS to respond. Dispatch rattled off a vaguely familiar address, one that Wes quickly reconciled with the area Travis had said he was going to celebrate from.
“Travis, seriously,” Wes muttered, standing and holstering his gun. “I knew you couldn’t stay out of trouble for one freaking minute.”
While en route to the scene of the event, Wes debated whether he was angrier at the fact Travis didn’t know the meaning of ‘safe and sane’ or that this little incident was keeping him from his warm, cozy bed and a good, sound sleep. Deciding that neither answer would ever go over well with Travis, he stopped worrying about it and decided to be pissed off on both counts. At the rate he was going, he could figure out a third, more reasonable reason for ripping his partner’s head from his shoulders in front of god, the LAPD, and everyone.
“Fire’s out,” he heard as he approached the ambulance. A member of the Los Angeles Fire Department wiped a hand across his damp forehead.
“How bad was it,” Wes asked, stepping into the light cast by the interior of the EMS vehicle.
“A small, easily contained brush fire, thankfully.” The firefighter tilted his head and looked at Wes. “I know you, don’t I?”
Wes nodded. He and Travis had made friends with more than a few members of the LAFD over the years. “Wes Mitchell, LAPD.”
“Right,” the firefighter said, smiling. “Robert Morgan, LAFD, obviously. And that’s your idiot partner over there, isn’t it? I thought he looked familiar.” He pointed towards Travis and sighed.
“Sadly, yes it is. He wasn’t the one who caused the fire, was he?”
“Only by proxy. He was lighting a bottle rocket –”
“Aren’t those illegal? Jesus, Travis.”
“Quite,” Morgan chuckled. “As he was lighting his contraband, one of those drunken idiots over there with your buddies from the LAPD bumped into him, knocking the lighter out of his hand and into some dry brush.”
It always happened that way. The state went through a drought, drying out every bit of foliage within a million miles, and then the public thinks it’s a good idea to set things on fire. Which sadly ended up being a good portion of the county. “Is he being charged with anything?”
Morgan shook his head. “Nope. Even though he was playing with illegal fireworks, he only had the one on his person, so they’re not going to pursue it. The LAPD is more concerned with the drunken fools who ran into him, worried they might cause more than an little flare up before the night’s over.”
“Smart thinking,” he said. “Thanks for the info.” Wes stuck out his hand and shook with the firefighter.
“Anytime, Mitchell. We live to serve.”
Walking away from the handsome member of the LAFD, Wes approached his partner, frowning. As expected, Travis was sitting in the back of an ambulance, chatting up the pretty paramedic treating a couple minor burns he’d given himself. “For the love of god, Travis, why couldn’t you just stay home for once?”
Travis pulled his eyes off the pretty Latina woman and glared at Wes. “Because I’m not a stick in the mud like you are, that’s why.”
“So, it’s more fun to try and set Los Angeles on fire?” Wes shook his head, furious now that he could see Travis was fine.
The paramedic looked from her patient to Wes and back again. Excusing herself, she hopped out of the back of the ambulance and wandered away, looking for someone – anyone – else to treat. Waiting until she’d turned her back on them, Wes took her place beside Travis.
“I told you these things were dangerous! You could have caused a lot of damage or even been hurt, Marks.”
A wide, incorrigible smile spread across Travis’ perfectly annoying face. “And I knew that you couldn’t resist coming and seeing the action with me, baby. OUCH. Why’d you hit me?”
Wes watched Travis rub the back of his head for a long moment, trying to decipher exactly why he had slapped his partner upside the noggin. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was still angry or if maybe he was actually relieved that Travis was still in one piece despite it all. “Honestly Marks, I have no idea, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
“Man, that’s not fair.”
Shrugging, Wes hopped out of the ambulance. “Think about that next time you disregard my advice.”
Knowing that Travis would be treated and released, he could go back to the station – no, wait, home – and take a long, hot shower before crawling into bed and forgetting all about Travis Marks and his stupid habit of doing irresponsible things for a few hours. Wes figured he owed himself that much, even if tomorrow would mean it starting all over again.
God love Travis Marks. When he was around, there wasn’t ever a dull moment. No matter how much you prayed for one.
