asphaltcowgrrl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2020-04-13 02:18 pm
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2020-04-13 02:18 pm
Entry tags:
Time Will Tell (Common Law Fic)
Title: Time Will Tell
Fandom: Common Law fanfiction
Pairing: Wes Mitchell/Travis Marks
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 950
Summary: Wes is late for work and not answering his phone. This is worrying Travis and Travis doesn’t like to be worried.
Author’s Note: Written for the numbers challenge at 1_million_words. This fills prompts 858, 574, 347, 924, and 708.
7:08 AM Tuesday Morning
“Wes man, where are you,” Travis asked into his phone. “It’s not like you to be late, not even by eight minutes. Call me. Let me know you’re okay. I’m worried.”
Travis ended the call and looked at his partner’s empty desk. He racked his brain trying to remember if Wes had told him something the day before about being late. Did he have a doctor’s appointment? A private session with Dr. Ryan? Nothing was coming to mind and it was pissing him off. He knew he was a royal screwup and that he often missed the important things Wes tried to tell him, but since they’d started dating on the sly a few months ago, Travis had made a point to start paying more attention. Mostly.
9:24 AM Tuesday Morning
“Okay, Wes? I’m like starting to get nervous over here. Can you text or something and let me know you’re still breathing? That you need an ambulance? Or maybe some CPR?” Travis paused and sighed. “C’mon, man, even Kendall’s getting worried and that girl don’t worry about anything, okay?”
He ended the call again and realized he was on his own for the day. “Fuck,” he muttered, annoyed at Wes for the fiftieth time that day. Not because he took a day off, but because he hadn’t bothered to tell Travis he was going to. He hated worrying because worrying meant you cared. And caring meant you were going to get hurt.
“You owe me, blondie,” he muttered as he left the bullpen and headed for his motorcycle.
3:47 PM Tuesday Afternoon
Travis’ stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since he left his trailer earlier that morning. Glancing at his watch, he winced. Had he really gone until nearly four o’clock without eating? Wes wouldn’t ever believe it.
“And if he were here,” Travis grumbled, “I’d tell him as much. Asshole won’t even answer his damn phone.”
Taking his tray, Travis found the booth he and Wes always shared when they came into the little burger joint near the station. Wes hated the place, but he often caved to Travis’ whining simply because it made Travis happy. He couldn’t lie, he came here today to try and will Wes into existence. Because he knew, as he stuffed an onion ring dipped in thick, fatty sauce, that Wes would appear out of the ether to criticize his food choices.
But Wes didn’t appear.
8:58 PM Tuesday Evening
Travis threw his phone at his laundry basket, both pissed and scared to death by the fact Wes hadn’t yet responded to his any of his numerous voice mails, emails, or texts. He’d even had Kate, Amy, Kendall, Dr. Ryan and Dakota try and get ahold of Wes. No one had had any more luck than Travis. Although, he’d had a feeling Wes would ignore Dakota even if he were able to respond. That woman was nuts, god love her and her crazy ass husband.
Defeated, Travis fell onto his small bed alone. He’d spent his entire life learning not to care about people and then freaking Wesley Mitchell strolls onto his radar. God, what a fool he was, a sucker for falling for that dimple and those sweet, sweet blue eyes.
5:47 Wednesday Morning
His phone was ringing but he didn’t care. He’d had too much to drink the night before and was in full on regret mode. As he was about to lean over and send the caller to voicemail, he saw his buttercup’s handsome face filling his phone. Scrabbling for his cell, he answered it, panicked that something was dreadfully, horribly wrong.
“Wes? You had better have a really good goddamned reason for not answering any of my calls yesterday. Or calling me back. Or texting me. Or… or… or…”
“Marks,” Wes laughed, the sound making Travis’ heart skip a beat. “Relax, I can explain.”
Travis sighed, relieved that Wes sounded happy and like he was still in one piece. “Don’t explain, not now. It’s five seventy-four in the damn morning.”
Wes snorted. “I think we need to buy you a new watch if the one you have says that’s what the time is.” He chuckled again. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, really.”
Yawning, Travis fought to get into an upright position. “You sound like you’re okay, so I’m going to forgive you.”
“Thanks,” Wes said, dryly. “Want to know what happened?”
“Yeah, please,” Travis said through another yawn.
“I got picked for jury duty,” Wes said, his voice thick with annoyance.
Travis laughed out loud. “Oh, you’re going to be the fun juror,” he said. “So, why couldn’t you call me?”
“I was going to wait until you were at the station, but right before seven, I was waylaid by the district attorney. She wanted to talk about something and wouldn’t let me go long enough to call you. I don’t know if I’m lucky or just born under a bad sign, but I got dragged into that first group and spent my entire Monday morning in a courtroom.” He sighed heavily. “And I have to go back today, Marks.”
“I’m sorry,” Travis said. “But you couldn’t call me from the courtroom, so I get it now. Any idea when this will be over?”
“Should be today. Defendant is an idiot and so is his lawyer. I could have presented a better case my first year in law school. Wish me luck.”
“Luck,” Travis said. “And when you get out of court today? Call me. I’ll take you out for a ride on my bike and we’ll stop for a greasy burger somewhere.”
“You know what, Travis? That sounds like a date.”
Fandom: Common Law fanfiction
Pairing: Wes Mitchell/Travis Marks
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 950
Summary: Wes is late for work and not answering his phone. This is worrying Travis and Travis doesn’t like to be worried.
Author’s Note: Written for the numbers challenge at 1_million_words. This fills prompts 858, 574, 347, 924, and 708.
7:08 AM Tuesday Morning
“Wes man, where are you,” Travis asked into his phone. “It’s not like you to be late, not even by eight minutes. Call me. Let me know you’re okay. I’m worried.”
Travis ended the call and looked at his partner’s empty desk. He racked his brain trying to remember if Wes had told him something the day before about being late. Did he have a doctor’s appointment? A private session with Dr. Ryan? Nothing was coming to mind and it was pissing him off. He knew he was a royal screwup and that he often missed the important things Wes tried to tell him, but since they’d started dating on the sly a few months ago, Travis had made a point to start paying more attention. Mostly.
9:24 AM Tuesday Morning
“Okay, Wes? I’m like starting to get nervous over here. Can you text or something and let me know you’re still breathing? That you need an ambulance? Or maybe some CPR?” Travis paused and sighed. “C’mon, man, even Kendall’s getting worried and that girl don’t worry about anything, okay?”
He ended the call again and realized he was on his own for the day. “Fuck,” he muttered, annoyed at Wes for the fiftieth time that day. Not because he took a day off, but because he hadn’t bothered to tell Travis he was going to. He hated worrying because worrying meant you cared. And caring meant you were going to get hurt.
“You owe me, blondie,” he muttered as he left the bullpen and headed for his motorcycle.
3:47 PM Tuesday Afternoon
Travis’ stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since he left his trailer earlier that morning. Glancing at his watch, he winced. Had he really gone until nearly four o’clock without eating? Wes wouldn’t ever believe it.
“And if he were here,” Travis grumbled, “I’d tell him as much. Asshole won’t even answer his damn phone.”
Taking his tray, Travis found the booth he and Wes always shared when they came into the little burger joint near the station. Wes hated the place, but he often caved to Travis’ whining simply because it made Travis happy. He couldn’t lie, he came here today to try and will Wes into existence. Because he knew, as he stuffed an onion ring dipped in thick, fatty sauce, that Wes would appear out of the ether to criticize his food choices.
But Wes didn’t appear.
8:58 PM Tuesday Evening
Travis threw his phone at his laundry basket, both pissed and scared to death by the fact Wes hadn’t yet responded to his any of his numerous voice mails, emails, or texts. He’d even had Kate, Amy, Kendall, Dr. Ryan and Dakota try and get ahold of Wes. No one had had any more luck than Travis. Although, he’d had a feeling Wes would ignore Dakota even if he were able to respond. That woman was nuts, god love her and her crazy ass husband.
Defeated, Travis fell onto his small bed alone. He’d spent his entire life learning not to care about people and then freaking Wesley Mitchell strolls onto his radar. God, what a fool he was, a sucker for falling for that dimple and those sweet, sweet blue eyes.
5:47 Wednesday Morning
His phone was ringing but he didn’t care. He’d had too much to drink the night before and was in full on regret mode. As he was about to lean over and send the caller to voicemail, he saw his buttercup’s handsome face filling his phone. Scrabbling for his cell, he answered it, panicked that something was dreadfully, horribly wrong.
“Wes? You had better have a really good goddamned reason for not answering any of my calls yesterday. Or calling me back. Or texting me. Or… or… or…”
“Marks,” Wes laughed, the sound making Travis’ heart skip a beat. “Relax, I can explain.”
Travis sighed, relieved that Wes sounded happy and like he was still in one piece. “Don’t explain, not now. It’s five seventy-four in the damn morning.”
Wes snorted. “I think we need to buy you a new watch if the one you have says that’s what the time is.” He chuckled again. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, really.”
Yawning, Travis fought to get into an upright position. “You sound like you’re okay, so I’m going to forgive you.”
“Thanks,” Wes said, dryly. “Want to know what happened?”
“Yeah, please,” Travis said through another yawn.
“I got picked for jury duty,” Wes said, his voice thick with annoyance.
Travis laughed out loud. “Oh, you’re going to be the fun juror,” he said. “So, why couldn’t you call me?”
“I was going to wait until you were at the station, but right before seven, I was waylaid by the district attorney. She wanted to talk about something and wouldn’t let me go long enough to call you. I don’t know if I’m lucky or just born under a bad sign, but I got dragged into that first group and spent my entire Monday morning in a courtroom.” He sighed heavily. “And I have to go back today, Marks.”
“I’m sorry,” Travis said. “But you couldn’t call me from the courtroom, so I get it now. Any idea when this will be over?”
“Should be today. Defendant is an idiot and so is his lawyer. I could have presented a better case my first year in law school. Wish me luck.”
“Luck,” Travis said. “And when you get out of court today? Call me. I’ll take you out for a ride on my bike and we’ll stop for a greasy burger somewhere.”
“You know what, Travis? That sounds like a date.”