Better Off Wrong (Common Law Fic)
May. 28th, 2014 10:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Better Off Wrong
Pairing: Travis Marks/Wes Mitchell
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,634
Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse.
Short Summary: Inspired by the Rainy Days & Mondays Prompt here on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
1_million_words. Travis and Wes are done for good, but who can resist one more goodbye? (Obviously not me because I’m quoting yet another song title by the Randy Rogers Band)
Author’s Notes:I don’t write about this kind of thing very often for obvious reasons… but I figured that after all these two went through in cannon to fix their working partnership, it’d take something serious to split them up romantically.
Side Note: I’m a huge fan of the Randy Rogers Band and if you’re interested in the song that inspired this bit of angsty fic, you can watch it below. Also, check out some of their other music, they’re one of the best and most underrated country bands making music today (alongside the Eli Young Band, but don’t get me started on them or their cutie pie lead singer).
(apologies for the lyrics-only video, it wasn't a song they released.)
Better Off Wrong
It was the pounding on the door that drew his attention. But then, how could it not when it was always quiet this time of night. Or at least, it should be quiet. He shook his head sadly, knowing what was coming next. It arrived before he could reach the door.
“Damn you, Wes, open the fucking door!”
“Travis, stop shouting,” he called out, not quite yelling himself. “The neighbors will call the cops.” Again. And there wasn’t anything more embarrassing than when a cop showed up at a domestic disturbance to find that the two causing the ruckus are members of the LAPD as well.
“Then open this mother loving door, blondie!”
Wes stopped with his hand on the knob, fingers eager to turn the metal handle and let his lover back in. His heart, on the other hand, wasn’t so ready. “Why are you here,” he asked, praying his voice stayed steady. “I think we both know that we’re over. For good this time.”
“Because I need to see you,” he begged. “Please, Wes, let me in. I’m sorry – sorry for everything. I didn’t mean – mean to hurt you. Not ever.”
Unbidden, his fingers flew to the growing splotch of purple and blue on his left cheek. Of all the things he’d questioned over the last two years, his partner abusing him wasn’t ever one of them. He knew Travis hadn’t meant it – they’d both been a little more than drunk last night – but the trouble was that it couldn’t ever happen again. Which is why the love of his life was standing on the other side of the door, begging for just five minutes of his time. “Travis, I can’t let you in.”
“Why?” That single word, infused with so much achingly raw emotion, tore at the few emotions he had left.
“Because I can’t trust you, Travis, that’s why.” He could feel his voice wavering, his love beating against the wall of his reason. Why had Marks done the one thing he knew would end it between them forever?
“God, Wes,” he said, shoulder landing heavily against the door. “Just one last goodbye, baby.”
Baby. He never could resist Travis when he called him baby, it was like all was right with the world and nothing hurt. And yet, tonight, everything hurt. From his battered face to the depths of his soul. “I – I don’t know if that’s –”
“I promise, I’m painfully sober tonight.”
They both were, and he figured that was part of the problem. If he was half as lit as he had been last night, he’d have no trouble turning Travis away and causing a scene of epic proportions. He often wondered if his neighbors ever regretted letting that ‘nice gay couple’ move in down the street from them. Sighing, he forced the thoughts away. They’d had their chance in this little house, but it wasn’t meant to be.
Fate was a cruel bitch.
“Wes,” Travis whispered. “Are you still there?”
“I am,” he responded, unlatching the deadbolt and flipping the lock on the doorknob. Stepping back, he opened the door, allowing Travis to see inside. “Get your ass in here and I swear, if you even think about starting a fight I’ll –”
“Shhh,” he said, lifting both hands in a show of surrender. “I don’t want to fight any more, Wes.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he half-teased, shutting the door behind his now ex-lover.
Turning to face Travis, he watched as the other man’s face scrunched up in confusion before crumpling. “Oh baby,” he breathed, reaching out to touch the growing bruise on Wes’ face. “Oh god no, I didn’t…”
Wes pulled back from his touch, knowing that even the slightest brush of Marks’ fingers on his skin would send him right back to where they’d been two days ago.
“Don’t.”
Travis pulled his hand back. “I’m really sorry, Wes. I swear I didn’t mean to.”
“Its fine,” he said, waving it away with a sweep of his hand. “You’ve never hurt me before… but I can’t take the chance that you might do it again.” He met Travis’ eyes for the first time since he’d allowed him inside and the regret he saw there ate a ragged hole in his gut.
“I won’t ever,” Travis promised in the same voice he’d always used to swear he’d never cheat again. Or gamble again. Or, or, or…
However, Wes believed him on this point. Having been shuffled through the foster system, he’d seen some bad things, been in some bad places. He had gained a respect for the people he cared about and learned to use physical aggression only when necessary. But one thing nagged at Wes and that was the fact that they were robbery and homicide detectives that had personally seen what broken promises could do to a person, a relationship, a family.
Travis was his greatest victory, but also his biggest failure. They’d had so many wonderful nights snuggled together in bed, afternoons laughing in the sun… but there had also been too many harsh words and angry times. You get to a point where you have to cut your losses and move on. This was that moment.
He’d been too lost in his own thoughts to see Travis move closer to him, fingers touching the mark on his face again. “Travis,” he begged. “Please don’t touch me.”
Travis ignored him, tilting his face to the side, examining his handiwork. A thumb barely brushed along the crest of Wes’ cheekbone. The gentleness of the touch startled a small gasp from him, raising a faint blush on his skin.
“You’re so pretty when you flush like that,” Travis whispered, lips ghosting over the purpling stain on his face.
Pull back, he told himself. Move aside, push him away, do something! Instead, he ignored his rational self and turned into his ex’s roaming lips, meeting them full-on in a half-expected kiss. “I hate you,” he admitted, “but I love you, too. I need you and I want you but I can’t have you. Not anymore.”
“I know,” Travis agreed with more believability in his voice than he had shown earlier. “I know that when you shut that door on my backside later it’ll be the last time I ever walk out of here. I can’t say I like it, but I can’t say I don’t deserve it either.”
“You asked for one more goodbye,” Wes reminded him, trailing a finger along the curve of his jaw.
“I did,” he confessed, kissing the tip of Wes’ nose, just like he always used to.
“I think – I think I can give you that much,” Wes offered.
Travis didn’t respond with words, but with a pressing of his mouth to Wes’. He hadn’t expected talk at a time like this, Travis had always spoken louder with his actions, tonight not being the exception. Clothes hit the floor – Wes’ shirt, Travis’ belt, someone’s pants – here and there as they made their way back to what had been ‘their room’ but was now just a place that held a bed.
He fell back against the cool, crisp sheets, bare skin meeting cotton. His eyes fluttered open to the sight he’d both longed for and dreaded. Travis hovered over him, molten blue eyes latched onto his own. Wes lifted his arms in welcome, just one last time, and Travis moved over him, settling his weight onto his lover.
Even though they hadn’t been apart for long – less than a full twenty-four hours – Wes had craved Travis’ touch, dreamed of it, even after having cried himself to sleep. Arching into his lover’s body, they connected, separated, melded into one. This was the one place they had always seen eye to eye. When they loved, they did so with every ounce of their beings, finding common ground where before there had been none.
If only they could spend their lives here, entwined in each other’s arms, skin plastered to skin.
When their bodies untangled and their breathing slowed, he turned his eyes on his love. The excruciating ache that had filled him the night before returned. Tonight, however, it was overwhelming him, consuming him, because he wasn’t the victim tonight – tonight he was the villain. “You can’t stay,” he managed, barely eking out the words before his emotions betrayed him.
Travis rolled onto his side, fingers tracing circles down the center of Wes’ pale chest. “I know, baby.”
Wes took Travis’ fingers in his hand and pressed a kiss to their work-roughened tips. “Nothing will ever change how I feel about you, but nothing will ever change what you’ve done either.”
“I can respect that,” Travis muttered, leaning into Wes for one last, sweet kiss before rolling out of bed. “I guess I’ll see you around the station then.”
Travis left the bedroom in search of his clothes. Wes retreated into the comfort of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut, thinking about the transfer papers he had secreted inside his desk drawer. He wasn’t sure if he could do it – go on every day, not seeing Travis’ smiling face – but he was sure it’d be the only way he’d ever move on. The sound of the door slamming behind Travis cut to his core, opening yet another wound he had no chance to heal.
Maybe, somewhere deep down, he wanted to let it bleed. Pain was good, it gave him drive and direction, but it also made him weak. Weak for Travis and weak for all the things he knew he shouldn’t have but wanted.
No. No, this had to stop now. Marks was gone and he was better off. Now, if only he could convince his stupid heart that he was right, maybe he could find some peace.
Pairing: Travis Marks/Wes Mitchell
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,634
Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse.
Short Summary: Inspired by the Rainy Days & Mondays Prompt here on
1_million_words. Travis and Wes are done for good, but who can resist one more goodbye? (Obviously not me because I’m quoting yet another song title by the Randy Rogers Band)Author’s Notes:I don’t write about this kind of thing very often for obvious reasons… but I figured that after all these two went through in cannon to fix their working partnership, it’d take something serious to split them up romantically.
Side Note: I’m a huge fan of the Randy Rogers Band and if you’re interested in the song that inspired this bit of angsty fic, you can watch it below. Also, check out some of their other music, they’re one of the best and most underrated country bands making music today (alongside the Eli Young Band, but don’t get me started on them or their cutie pie lead singer).
(apologies for the lyrics-only video, it wasn't a song they released.)
Better Off Wrong
It was the pounding on the door that drew his attention. But then, how could it not when it was always quiet this time of night. Or at least, it should be quiet. He shook his head sadly, knowing what was coming next. It arrived before he could reach the door.
“Damn you, Wes, open the fucking door!”
“Travis, stop shouting,” he called out, not quite yelling himself. “The neighbors will call the cops.” Again. And there wasn’t anything more embarrassing than when a cop showed up at a domestic disturbance to find that the two causing the ruckus are members of the LAPD as well.
“Then open this mother loving door, blondie!”
Wes stopped with his hand on the knob, fingers eager to turn the metal handle and let his lover back in. His heart, on the other hand, wasn’t so ready. “Why are you here,” he asked, praying his voice stayed steady. “I think we both know that we’re over. For good this time.”
“Because I need to see you,” he begged. “Please, Wes, let me in. I’m sorry – sorry for everything. I didn’t mean – mean to hurt you. Not ever.”
Unbidden, his fingers flew to the growing splotch of purple and blue on his left cheek. Of all the things he’d questioned over the last two years, his partner abusing him wasn’t ever one of them. He knew Travis hadn’t meant it – they’d both been a little more than drunk last night – but the trouble was that it couldn’t ever happen again. Which is why the love of his life was standing on the other side of the door, begging for just five minutes of his time. “Travis, I can’t let you in.”
“Why?” That single word, infused with so much achingly raw emotion, tore at the few emotions he had left.
“Because I can’t trust you, Travis, that’s why.” He could feel his voice wavering, his love beating against the wall of his reason. Why had Marks done the one thing he knew would end it between them forever?
“God, Wes,” he said, shoulder landing heavily against the door. “Just one last goodbye, baby.”
Baby. He never could resist Travis when he called him baby, it was like all was right with the world and nothing hurt. And yet, tonight, everything hurt. From his battered face to the depths of his soul. “I – I don’t know if that’s –”
“I promise, I’m painfully sober tonight.”
They both were, and he figured that was part of the problem. If he was half as lit as he had been last night, he’d have no trouble turning Travis away and causing a scene of epic proportions. He often wondered if his neighbors ever regretted letting that ‘nice gay couple’ move in down the street from them. Sighing, he forced the thoughts away. They’d had their chance in this little house, but it wasn’t meant to be.
Fate was a cruel bitch.
“Wes,” Travis whispered. “Are you still there?”
“I am,” he responded, unlatching the deadbolt and flipping the lock on the doorknob. Stepping back, he opened the door, allowing Travis to see inside. “Get your ass in here and I swear, if you even think about starting a fight I’ll –”
“Shhh,” he said, lifting both hands in a show of surrender. “I don’t want to fight any more, Wes.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he half-teased, shutting the door behind his now ex-lover.
Turning to face Travis, he watched as the other man’s face scrunched up in confusion before crumpling. “Oh baby,” he breathed, reaching out to touch the growing bruise on Wes’ face. “Oh god no, I didn’t…”
Wes pulled back from his touch, knowing that even the slightest brush of Marks’ fingers on his skin would send him right back to where they’d been two days ago.
“Don’t.”
Travis pulled his hand back. “I’m really sorry, Wes. I swear I didn’t mean to.”
“Its fine,” he said, waving it away with a sweep of his hand. “You’ve never hurt me before… but I can’t take the chance that you might do it again.” He met Travis’ eyes for the first time since he’d allowed him inside and the regret he saw there ate a ragged hole in his gut.
“I won’t ever,” Travis promised in the same voice he’d always used to swear he’d never cheat again. Or gamble again. Or, or, or…
However, Wes believed him on this point. Having been shuffled through the foster system, he’d seen some bad things, been in some bad places. He had gained a respect for the people he cared about and learned to use physical aggression only when necessary. But one thing nagged at Wes and that was the fact that they were robbery and homicide detectives that had personally seen what broken promises could do to a person, a relationship, a family.
Travis was his greatest victory, but also his biggest failure. They’d had so many wonderful nights snuggled together in bed, afternoons laughing in the sun… but there had also been too many harsh words and angry times. You get to a point where you have to cut your losses and move on. This was that moment.
He’d been too lost in his own thoughts to see Travis move closer to him, fingers touching the mark on his face again. “Travis,” he begged. “Please don’t touch me.”
Travis ignored him, tilting his face to the side, examining his handiwork. A thumb barely brushed along the crest of Wes’ cheekbone. The gentleness of the touch startled a small gasp from him, raising a faint blush on his skin.
“You’re so pretty when you flush like that,” Travis whispered, lips ghosting over the purpling stain on his face.
Pull back, he told himself. Move aside, push him away, do something! Instead, he ignored his rational self and turned into his ex’s roaming lips, meeting them full-on in a half-expected kiss. “I hate you,” he admitted, “but I love you, too. I need you and I want you but I can’t have you. Not anymore.”
“I know,” Travis agreed with more believability in his voice than he had shown earlier. “I know that when you shut that door on my backside later it’ll be the last time I ever walk out of here. I can’t say I like it, but I can’t say I don’t deserve it either.”
“You asked for one more goodbye,” Wes reminded him, trailing a finger along the curve of his jaw.
“I did,” he confessed, kissing the tip of Wes’ nose, just like he always used to.
“I think – I think I can give you that much,” Wes offered.
Travis didn’t respond with words, but with a pressing of his mouth to Wes’. He hadn’t expected talk at a time like this, Travis had always spoken louder with his actions, tonight not being the exception. Clothes hit the floor – Wes’ shirt, Travis’ belt, someone’s pants – here and there as they made their way back to what had been ‘their room’ but was now just a place that held a bed.
He fell back against the cool, crisp sheets, bare skin meeting cotton. His eyes fluttered open to the sight he’d both longed for and dreaded. Travis hovered over him, molten blue eyes latched onto his own. Wes lifted his arms in welcome, just one last time, and Travis moved over him, settling his weight onto his lover.
Even though they hadn’t been apart for long – less than a full twenty-four hours – Wes had craved Travis’ touch, dreamed of it, even after having cried himself to sleep. Arching into his lover’s body, they connected, separated, melded into one. This was the one place they had always seen eye to eye. When they loved, they did so with every ounce of their beings, finding common ground where before there had been none.
If only they could spend their lives here, entwined in each other’s arms, skin plastered to skin.
When their bodies untangled and their breathing slowed, he turned his eyes on his love. The excruciating ache that had filled him the night before returned. Tonight, however, it was overwhelming him, consuming him, because he wasn’t the victim tonight – tonight he was the villain. “You can’t stay,” he managed, barely eking out the words before his emotions betrayed him.
Travis rolled onto his side, fingers tracing circles down the center of Wes’ pale chest. “I know, baby.”
Wes took Travis’ fingers in his hand and pressed a kiss to their work-roughened tips. “Nothing will ever change how I feel about you, but nothing will ever change what you’ve done either.”
“I can respect that,” Travis muttered, leaning into Wes for one last, sweet kiss before rolling out of bed. “I guess I’ll see you around the station then.”
Travis left the bedroom in search of his clothes. Wes retreated into the comfort of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut, thinking about the transfer papers he had secreted inside his desk drawer. He wasn’t sure if he could do it – go on every day, not seeing Travis’ smiling face – but he was sure it’d be the only way he’d ever move on. The sound of the door slamming behind Travis cut to his core, opening yet another wound he had no chance to heal.
Maybe, somewhere deep down, he wanted to let it bleed. Pain was good, it gave him drive and direction, but it also made him weak. Weak for Travis and weak for all the things he knew he shouldn’t have but wanted.
No. No, this had to stop now. Marks was gone and he was better off. Now, if only he could convince his stupid heart that he was right, maybe he could find some peace.
