Shades of Wes: True Red (Common Law Fic)
Feb. 3rd, 2015 03:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Shades of Wes – True Red
Fandom: Common Law
Pairing: Travis Marks + Wes Mitchell
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angsty as all get out. Also, it sounds like the author has been smoking something illicit. She hasn’t but… you wouldn’t know it by reading this. Heh.
Word Count: 1,730
Author’s Note: Color #3 in the color challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
1_million_words. Also, this kind of got… weird? For me, colors and emotions go hand in hand and maybe this got a little out of hand?
If the blues were bad, the reds were the worst. And today he was seeing all shades of red, plus a few that fell outside the visible spectrum. Those invisible ones hurt the most.
After escaping from therapy, Wes had treated Travis to an early lunch. Although he’d pointed out that Marks owed him for a change, he never hesitated when it came to pulling out his wallet and covering both of their meals. He knew he was only encouraging Travis’ habit of mooching off of others, but in a way, it made it seem a little like a date. Or, the closest facsimile he’d ever be treated to.
Later, on a whim of pure idiocy, Wes invited Travis to join him for dinner. Why he had made the offer he didn’t know. But if he were honest with himself – and let’s face it, that was the last thing he was when it came to his partner – he knew why he’d asked: he hated being without that loudmouth. Now, he was suffering for his neediness.
He had stood by his car for nearly ten minutes, watching as Travis flirted with their waitress post meal, engaging her with that charming smile. It had occurred to Wes several times that he could simply leave and let Marks find his own way home later, but that sinking feeling in his gut stopped him every time he fished his keys out of his pocket. Abandoning Travis tonight would lead to a fight in the morning and that they couldn’t have. If the captain saw them arguing, heard that Wes had left Travis in the parking lot of a diner, they’d never get out of therapy.
It was so much easier to stand by and watch his chances of being asked on another date fly out the window than to deal with the fallout from a quarrel that would most likely be more public than he was comfortable with. So he waited, and he watched. When Travis had finally made it out of the diner, it was with a smirk on his face and a scrap of paper between his fingers.
“I got her number,” he said, voice loud in the quiet of the night.
“I can see that,” Wes replied, keeping his hurt to himself. Praying that he could find a way to kick this case of the blues to the god damned curb before it overtook his life.
That had been last night. Upon awakening, he’d found his case of the blues had morphed into something new, something raw and unnamable. He’d stopped being depressed over the situation with his partner and instead, he found himself angry. So fucking angry.
And so his case of the reds was born.
Red was a curious color. Like his mood today, it had many shades, all with their own meanings and variations. You had your pinks which were all fluff and affection and happiness, not exactly something he was seeing in his spectrum today. Then you had your maroons, your burgundies, your darker shades that were all moody and brooding, something that he had been more than a little prone to since the sun had come up. And then you had the most confusing, confounding shade of them all – true red. The color of Valentine’s hearts and fancy sports cars. A color that expressed passion and love and aggression and anger. Again, something else he’d had more than a bit of experience with since waking.
Currently, he was sitting around a crimson shade, a little angry and more than a little lustful. The ache at having been snubbed after dinner still stung, and yet, as he watched Marks sit at his computer, something else started to stir within him, tamping down on the aggression and moving it towards something more productive. Travis was concentrating on the set of phone records he’d been sent, habitually capturing his lower lip with his teeth before releasing and starting again. More than anything, that flash of white tooth digging into that thick lower lip was dissipating his ire.
And replacing it with something he couldn’t cope with at work.
“Travis, have you found what you were looking for yet?” He winced at the harshness in his words, but he was unable to take them back now.
“What? Oh, yeah. He’s called this number seven times in two days. I think it could be his source.”
He flashed that smile that he hit everyone up with, the one that said ‘look how cute I am, didn’t I do a good job?’ Wes felt the broodiness shift and become lighter, that true red pulling him into its happier shades. Resisting the urge to reach out and pinch Marks’ cheeks, he instead blew out a frustrated breath. “You got a name to go with that number?”
“Sure do,” he said, that proud smile broadening. “And an address to boot.”
“Let’s get out of here then,” Wes said, standing and grabbing his jacket.
Their lead hadn’t panned out in the end, leaving Travis restless and Wes irate. Driving back to the station, Marks’ mouth didn’t stop running, only adding to Wes’ aggravation. Stuck at a red light, he envisioned several ways he might shut his partner up, but nothing that he had the balls to even threaten with.
“You wanna get some food?”
“What?” He chanced a glance at the passenger seat as the light changed. “You’re kidding, right? I fed you twice yesterday. Of your three daily meals, I paid for two of them.”
“Man, I never said you had to pay for my food, I just thought you might be hungry.” He shook his head and leaned back in the seat. “You’re sure grouchy enough.”
“That’s it,” he snarled, pulling into the first parking lot he could find and slamming to a halt. “Get out.”
“What?” Travis looked from his partner to the door and back. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m not joking, Travis. I’m done. Done with your mouth, done with your mooching, and most of all, I’m done with your damn flirting.” The ‘especially when it isn’t with me’ went without saying as he was positive Travis knew that bit as well as he did himself.
“Wow, you’re angry.”
It was a stupid thing to say and for some reason, it made Wes even more insane. His vision clouded red, pure hostility and antagonism fueling his rage. He felt his fingers tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles going white at the absurdity of it all. Why couldn’t he let go, just allow Travis to be Travis since he’d so completely and utterly fucked up his own chances?
The sadness and desperation of the night before rushed in over the tops of the swirling reds, covering it in all the many blues he’d thought about during therapy, mixing together and leaving him bereft. Was there such a thing as the purples? Anger and frustration and sadness and despair all wrapped into one?
He wanted to yell, to shout and scream at his partner, to let him know all the things that he was feeling. But he couldn’t. So he rested his forehead against the steering wheel instead, all life leaving him in a whoosh of breath. “No Travis, I’m not angry, not any longer.”
Truth was, he had gone numb, not feeling a damn thing. He rather liked this lack of emotion and wondered if he could call it up on demand.
“You sure because I thought you were about to rip my nuts off there a minute ago.”
The things he’d like to do… no. Now was not the time for thoughts like that. “I’m so tired of being angry, Travis. I’m just so… done.”
They became quiet for long moments, the silence settling heavy between them. With a brush of fingers against blond hair, Travis brought Wes back into the moment. Drew him slowly back to the here and now. “I’m sorry, Wes.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, shrugging off his partner’s touch even while wanting to lean into it.
“But it does,” Travis said, touching his face this time. “You’re upset about something, probably something that I’ve done. We can’t work like this. It’s how we wound up in therapy to begin with.”
Marks was right about that, at least. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t think I can get the words out right now.”
“Yeah, of course. Let me know when and where and I’ll buy you a drink or four. Whatever you need.”
Wes nodded, acknowledging the sincerity in Travis’ tone. “I’ll think about it and let you know. But right now, I need to get my head on straight.” He didn’t want to be alone, but he couldn’t be with Travis right now either. Being in a situation where it was only the two of them and no witnesses would either end in mutual orgasm or bloodshed. Possibly even both.
Red, red, red. Blood. Love. Fury. Rage. Passion. Travis.
But Travis wasn’t red. His eyes were blue, his smile was white, but Travis. Travis was green – living and growing and flowering and alive.
He was so confused.
“Wes?” Marks was staring at him, waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t quite heard.
“Yeah?”
“I asked if you were going to be okay.” A thumb caressed a golden eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Eventually.” Wes put the car into gear and looked at his partner, wishing the words would come and fix this broken thing between them. “But not tonight. For the rest of today, I’m going to be broken. In the morning, I’ll be better.”
“I can live with that,” he said, slipping his hand down to cup a pale cheek. “I don’t like it, but I can’t do anything about it either. You’ll call if you need me, right?”
This time, Wes nodded.
“Good enough. You want me to drive back to the station?”
He hesitated before nodding, slipping the car back into park. Opening the driver’s door, Wes stepped out and allowed Travis to do the unthinkable and settle in behind the wheel of his vehicle. Relaxing back into the comfort of the passenger’s seat, he closed his eyes, the scent of Travis Marks forever embedded in the leather.
It was going to be okay. It had to be okay. He didn’t know what he’d do if they were forced apart.
Continues here.
Fandom: Common Law
Pairing: Travis Marks + Wes Mitchell
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angsty as all get out. Also, it sounds like the author has been smoking something illicit. She hasn’t but… you wouldn’t know it by reading this. Heh.
Word Count: 1,730
Author’s Note: Color #3 in the color challenge at
1_million_words. Also, this kind of got… weird? For me, colors and emotions go hand in hand and maybe this got a little out of hand?If the blues were bad, the reds were the worst. And today he was seeing all shades of red, plus a few that fell outside the visible spectrum. Those invisible ones hurt the most.
After escaping from therapy, Wes had treated Travis to an early lunch. Although he’d pointed out that Marks owed him for a change, he never hesitated when it came to pulling out his wallet and covering both of their meals. He knew he was only encouraging Travis’ habit of mooching off of others, but in a way, it made it seem a little like a date. Or, the closest facsimile he’d ever be treated to.
Later, on a whim of pure idiocy, Wes invited Travis to join him for dinner. Why he had made the offer he didn’t know. But if he were honest with himself – and let’s face it, that was the last thing he was when it came to his partner – he knew why he’d asked: he hated being without that loudmouth. Now, he was suffering for his neediness.
He had stood by his car for nearly ten minutes, watching as Travis flirted with their waitress post meal, engaging her with that charming smile. It had occurred to Wes several times that he could simply leave and let Marks find his own way home later, but that sinking feeling in his gut stopped him every time he fished his keys out of his pocket. Abandoning Travis tonight would lead to a fight in the morning and that they couldn’t have. If the captain saw them arguing, heard that Wes had left Travis in the parking lot of a diner, they’d never get out of therapy.
It was so much easier to stand by and watch his chances of being asked on another date fly out the window than to deal with the fallout from a quarrel that would most likely be more public than he was comfortable with. So he waited, and he watched. When Travis had finally made it out of the diner, it was with a smirk on his face and a scrap of paper between his fingers.
“I got her number,” he said, voice loud in the quiet of the night.
“I can see that,” Wes replied, keeping his hurt to himself. Praying that he could find a way to kick this case of the blues to the god damned curb before it overtook his life.
That had been last night. Upon awakening, he’d found his case of the blues had morphed into something new, something raw and unnamable. He’d stopped being depressed over the situation with his partner and instead, he found himself angry. So fucking angry.
And so his case of the reds was born.
Red was a curious color. Like his mood today, it had many shades, all with their own meanings and variations. You had your pinks which were all fluff and affection and happiness, not exactly something he was seeing in his spectrum today. Then you had your maroons, your burgundies, your darker shades that were all moody and brooding, something that he had been more than a little prone to since the sun had come up. And then you had the most confusing, confounding shade of them all – true red. The color of Valentine’s hearts and fancy sports cars. A color that expressed passion and love and aggression and anger. Again, something else he’d had more than a bit of experience with since waking.
Currently, he was sitting around a crimson shade, a little angry and more than a little lustful. The ache at having been snubbed after dinner still stung, and yet, as he watched Marks sit at his computer, something else started to stir within him, tamping down on the aggression and moving it towards something more productive. Travis was concentrating on the set of phone records he’d been sent, habitually capturing his lower lip with his teeth before releasing and starting again. More than anything, that flash of white tooth digging into that thick lower lip was dissipating his ire.
And replacing it with something he couldn’t cope with at work.
“Travis, have you found what you were looking for yet?” He winced at the harshness in his words, but he was unable to take them back now.
“What? Oh, yeah. He’s called this number seven times in two days. I think it could be his source.”
He flashed that smile that he hit everyone up with, the one that said ‘look how cute I am, didn’t I do a good job?’ Wes felt the broodiness shift and become lighter, that true red pulling him into its happier shades. Resisting the urge to reach out and pinch Marks’ cheeks, he instead blew out a frustrated breath. “You got a name to go with that number?”
“Sure do,” he said, that proud smile broadening. “And an address to boot.”
“Let’s get out of here then,” Wes said, standing and grabbing his jacket.
Their lead hadn’t panned out in the end, leaving Travis restless and Wes irate. Driving back to the station, Marks’ mouth didn’t stop running, only adding to Wes’ aggravation. Stuck at a red light, he envisioned several ways he might shut his partner up, but nothing that he had the balls to even threaten with.
“You wanna get some food?”
“What?” He chanced a glance at the passenger seat as the light changed. “You’re kidding, right? I fed you twice yesterday. Of your three daily meals, I paid for two of them.”
“Man, I never said you had to pay for my food, I just thought you might be hungry.” He shook his head and leaned back in the seat. “You’re sure grouchy enough.”
“That’s it,” he snarled, pulling into the first parking lot he could find and slamming to a halt. “Get out.”
“What?” Travis looked from his partner to the door and back. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m not joking, Travis. I’m done. Done with your mouth, done with your mooching, and most of all, I’m done with your damn flirting.” The ‘especially when it isn’t with me’ went without saying as he was positive Travis knew that bit as well as he did himself.
“Wow, you’re angry.”
It was a stupid thing to say and for some reason, it made Wes even more insane. His vision clouded red, pure hostility and antagonism fueling his rage. He felt his fingers tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles going white at the absurdity of it all. Why couldn’t he let go, just allow Travis to be Travis since he’d so completely and utterly fucked up his own chances?
The sadness and desperation of the night before rushed in over the tops of the swirling reds, covering it in all the many blues he’d thought about during therapy, mixing together and leaving him bereft. Was there such a thing as the purples? Anger and frustration and sadness and despair all wrapped into one?
He wanted to yell, to shout and scream at his partner, to let him know all the things that he was feeling. But he couldn’t. So he rested his forehead against the steering wheel instead, all life leaving him in a whoosh of breath. “No Travis, I’m not angry, not any longer.”
Truth was, he had gone numb, not feeling a damn thing. He rather liked this lack of emotion and wondered if he could call it up on demand.
“You sure because I thought you were about to rip my nuts off there a minute ago.”
The things he’d like to do… no. Now was not the time for thoughts like that. “I’m so tired of being angry, Travis. I’m just so… done.”
They became quiet for long moments, the silence settling heavy between them. With a brush of fingers against blond hair, Travis brought Wes back into the moment. Drew him slowly back to the here and now. “I’m sorry, Wes.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, shrugging off his partner’s touch even while wanting to lean into it.
“But it does,” Travis said, touching his face this time. “You’re upset about something, probably something that I’ve done. We can’t work like this. It’s how we wound up in therapy to begin with.”
Marks was right about that, at least. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t think I can get the words out right now.”
“Yeah, of course. Let me know when and where and I’ll buy you a drink or four. Whatever you need.”
Wes nodded, acknowledging the sincerity in Travis’ tone. “I’ll think about it and let you know. But right now, I need to get my head on straight.” He didn’t want to be alone, but he couldn’t be with Travis right now either. Being in a situation where it was only the two of them and no witnesses would either end in mutual orgasm or bloodshed. Possibly even both.
Red, red, red. Blood. Love. Fury. Rage. Passion. Travis.
But Travis wasn’t red. His eyes were blue, his smile was white, but Travis. Travis was green – living and growing and flowering and alive.
He was so confused.
“Wes?” Marks was staring at him, waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t quite heard.
“Yeah?”
“I asked if you were going to be okay.” A thumb caressed a golden eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Eventually.” Wes put the car into gear and looked at his partner, wishing the words would come and fix this broken thing between them. “But not tonight. For the rest of today, I’m going to be broken. In the morning, I’ll be better.”
“I can live with that,” he said, slipping his hand down to cup a pale cheek. “I don’t like it, but I can’t do anything about it either. You’ll call if you need me, right?”
This time, Wes nodded.
“Good enough. You want me to drive back to the station?”
He hesitated before nodding, slipping the car back into park. Opening the driver’s door, Wes stepped out and allowed Travis to do the unthinkable and settle in behind the wheel of his vehicle. Relaxing back into the comfort of the passenger’s seat, he closed his eyes, the scent of Travis Marks forever embedded in the leather.
It was going to be okay. It had to be okay. He didn’t know what he’d do if they were forced apart.
Continues here.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-02-06 12:50 am (UTC)Ah, they're fucked. ;)
no subject
Date: 2015-02-06 04:22 pm (UTC)Thanks! Since he uses that smile as a weapon, it only made sense. :)
Yes, they really are. But in such a very good way.
(I think you missed the post that went between this one and the Marsala one though...)
no subject
Date: 2015-02-09 08:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-02-09 06:44 pm (UTC)*grabs paddles* CLEAR!
(Seriously though, that comment is the best!)