Backroom Operator

bluenotehotshot:

“So, what? You’re going to take it out on me because your life is so boring? I asked in case you needed someone to talk to, even if it’s just venting. You know, like we did as kids? Because I’m your friend and I care about you?” Church tucked the memory of ‘love’ somewhere…

“Yeah, I know.  I get it.”  And he did.  Even when they were kids, he got it and it was probably why he was about the only person to get along with Allison back then.  It was probably why he had even called her up now, determined to salvage what he could with her.  Their relationship now was even more of a rollercoaster than before- jerky, rickety, prone to sudden dips and climbs and twists that made Church’s stomach go weak.  But, just like a rollercoaster, Church couldn’t get enough of her and hell if he knew why.

“Besides,” he went on as if he didn’t care that he was about to shoot himself in the foot, “it’s not like you don’t have a legitimate reason to be mad at me.  So we should probably talk about that, because I’m not changing it.”  He couldn’t.  Not now.

bluenotehotshot:

It was too bad for Tex that Church was so well-versed in not only sarcasm and lying but also very clearly remembered the various tones her voice could take back when she was still ‘Allison’.

At least that much of her didn’t change though Church would bet she wouldn’t have…

“So, what?  You’re going to take it out on me because your life is so boring?  I asked in case you needed someone to talk to, even if it’s just venting.  You know, like we did as kids?  Because I’m your friend and I care about you?”  Church tucked the memory of ‘love’ somewhere out of the way because it was too overwhelming, too awkward for either of them to deal with right now.  Not when he had no idea what was going on between them at the moment.

But he knew what he didn’t want.  He didn’t want them to be Tex and Church.  Not right now.  “Are we friends?  Allison, what do you want from me?  Do you really want to act like we never knew each other?  Like we never had something, history, between us?”

bluenotehotshot:

“Hey, uh…” he fumbled for a moment, trying to figure out which name would make her less likely to bite his head off, “Tex.” Church’s fingers fiddled around the telephone cord, wrapping it and unwrapping it around his fingers like some child. When he caught himself doing it,…

It was too bad for Tex that Church was so well-versed in not only sarcasm and lying but also very clearly remembered the various tones her voice could take back when she was still ‘Allison’.

At least that much of her didn’t change though Church would bet she wouldn’t have been happy to hear that.

“Yeah,” he said into the phone, his self-consciousness being replaced by the dry sarcasm that had become his standard.  “Pull the other one.  It’s got bells on it.”  He switched ears, leaning back on one hand.  “You might as well tell me what’s up.  Not like there’s anyone else you’d talk to.”

bluenotehotshot:

It was a bad idea. He knew, before he even picked up the phone, it was a bad idea. It was a terrible idea. It was the worst idea he could’ve possibly come up with, let alone attempted to follow through.

And yet there Church was. Picking up the phone and telling the…

“Hey, uh…” he fumbled for a moment, trying to figure out which name would make her less likely to bite his head off, “Tex.”  Church’s fingers fiddled around the telephone cord, wrapping it and unwrapping it around his fingers like some child.  When he caught himself doing it, he yanked his hand away and stuffed it in his pocket instead, leaning up against his desk as if there was anyone around that would be fooled by his cool and collected facade.

“I’m just calling to,” ask you to dinner, have dinner with me, let’s go out some time, “ssseeeee how you were doing.”  Church winced at his complete inability to sound anything remotely natural.  He’d wonder why he always fumbled so badly around Tex but, to be honestly, he really wasn’t that much better with other women, either.  He was only slightly less desperate with them but also less relaxed.

ready-for-a-fight:

For Texas, it was just…one of those days. She had found it hard to get back on her feet after the dreaded Saint Patrick’s Day party and the nights that followed. She had stayed up with “friends”, working on case files until the sun broke through the horizon, living off of coffee. It couldn’t have been good for her health at all. But there were fewer things that Tex hated more than relaxing. It bothered her, made her muscles twitch and her head hurt every single minute she spent doing nothing.

Years ago back on her parent’s farm, she would have loved every single moment of leisure but city life and her job at Freelancer P.D. made relaxing drive her insane. Even when she offered again and again to work overtime, the Director just shooed her away and told her to enjoy herself-to live life. Ha. She didn’t want to relax. She wanted to work and work, anything to keep her mind and hands busy. Anything. The last thing she needed was her mind wandering, letting it think about issues that needed to stay buried and forgotten.

With nothing to do, she silently trudged up the stairs to her apartment, throwing her keys and purse onto the couch and falling face first onto her bed. Work and sleep. Work and sleep. That’s all she did. All she wanted to do. Rolling over onto her back, she closed her eyes, listening to the steady rumble of cars rushing along the street below her window, accompanied by the occasional siren. What was she supposed to do now? Lie here and wait? Get drunk? God no, not after Saint Patrick’s. She still couldn’t look at a bottle of beer without wanting to hurl. There was no point in it-no point in relationships or sex or anything. She didn’t need it. All she needed and wanted was work.

It was a bad idea.  He knew, before he even picked up the phone, it was a bad idea.  It was a terrible idea.  It was the worst idea he could’ve possibly come up with, let alone attempted to follow through.

And yet there Church was.  Picking up the phone and telling the operator to patch him through to Tex.  Seeing if she still wanted to go out for dinner, even after the Red-induced chaos and the umpteenth fight at the station and getting drunk at that party.  And her finding out who his father was.

How stupid was he?  Really?

reggicide:

bluenotehotshot:

reggicide:

bluenotehotshot:

reggicide:

Obviously that was a sore spot, and Wyoming knew exactly what to do with sore spots - prod them.

“Well, what do you want to know about Tex?” He kept his tone light and casual and continued examining his fingernails ; “I could tell you quite a bit about her.”

Placing his hands onto the table, he looked up to the seething figure that hovered above him.

“I could tell you her favourite drink, how she cleans her gun. Where she keeps her keys, or how she does he hair. I could tell you her who she talks to, who she doesn’t, what she does on the weekends, in the evenings; who she does.”

He spread his arms wide open.

“Mate, I could tell you anything.”

The blurred Church’s vision and before he knew it, his fists were wrapped in Wyoming’s lapels and dragged him up out of his seat.  Not an inconsiderable feat if one thought about it, but thought really had no place in Church’s rage.  “Whaht did you sahy?”  His clenched teeth turned his accent into a growl.  “Whaht did you juhst sahy?”

Wyoming gripped Church’s wrists, feeling the bones grind together and alleviating the strain on his coat’s seams.“Let go of me right now or I will you have you in cuffs and arrested for assaulting an officer.”  Aware of the stares of the deli’s patrons as the confrontation threaten to turn violent.

Aware of the weight of his gun in his holster.

Wyoming’s words managed to cut through Church’s murderous haze- the pain definitely helped -and he remember he actually was assaulting an officer right out in public.  It still took a damn lot of will to get his fingers to let go, one by one.  They re-fisted, though, once the crumpled suit was no longer in their grasp, wrists still caught in Wyoming’s vastly stronger grip.

Church took that opportunity to try and regain control of himself, staring at the knot of Wyoming’s tie without actually seeing it.  “Youah lying.  Ah don’t behlieve you.”

Wyoming released Church’s wrists, carefully adjusting his suit back to it’s previous pristine state. “You do not need to believe me in order for it to be true, Leonard.” He gesture to the table once more, “Now sit mate, and we can pretend we’re civilized people, hmm?”

He pushed Church down into the chair, smiling at the patrons that still watched them nervously. “Don’t make me arrest you for being a public nuisance.”

Church’s jaw is clenched tight, face red with emotion, but he sits obediently, hands fisted on his knees and glaring into the tabletop.  “You’ve got nohnthin’ Ah wahnt to heah.”  He gritted out.  His head, however, is a mess because there were some things Tex said and did that made him suspect, even as his mind was screaming at him ‘it’s not true it’s not true it’s not true’.

reggicide:

bluenotehotshot:

reggicide:

Obviously that was a sore spot, and Wyoming knew exactly what to do with sore spots - prod them.

“Well, what do you want to know about Tex?” He kept his tone light and casual and continued examining his fingernails ; “I could tell you quite a bit about her.”

Placing his hands onto the table, he looked up to the seething figure that hovered above him.

“I could tell you her favourite drink, how she cleans her gun. Where she keeps her keys, or how she does he hair. I could tell you her who she talks to, who she doesn’t, what she does on the weekends, in the evenings; who she does.”

He spread his arms wide open.

“Mate, I could tell you anything.”

The blurred Church’s vision and before he knew it, his fists were wrapped in Wyoming’s lapels and dragged him up out of his seat.  Not an inconsiderable feat if one thought about it, but thought really had no place in Church’s rage.  “Whaht did you sahy?”  His clenched teeth turned his accent into a growl.  “Whaht did you juhst sahy?”

Wyoming gripped Church’s wrists, feeling the bones grind together and alleviating the strain on his coat’s seams.“Let go of me right now or I will you have you in cuffs and arrested for assaulting an officer.”  Aware of the stares of the deli’s patrons as the confrontation threaten to turn violent.

Aware of the weight of his gun in his holster.

Wyoming’s words managed to cut through Church’s murderous haze- the pain definitely helped -and he remember he actually was assaulting an officer right out in public.  It still took a damn lot of will to get his fingers to let go, one by one.  They re-fisted, though, once the crumpled suit was no longer in their grasp, wrists still caught in Wyoming’s vastly stronger grip.

Church took that opportunity to try and regain control of himself, staring at the knot of Wyoming’s tie without actually seeing it.  “Youah lying.  Ah don’t behlieve you.”

reggicide:

Obviously that was a sore spot, and Wyoming knew exactly what to do with sore spots - prod them.

“Well, what do you want to know about Tex?” He kept his tone light and casual and continued examining his fingernails ; “I could tell you quite a bit about her.”

Placing his hands onto the table, he looked up to the seething figure that hovered above him.

“I could tell you her favourite drink, how she cleans her gun. Where she keeps her keys, or how she does he hair. I could tell you her who she talks to, who she doesn’t, what she does on the weekends, in the evenings; who she does.”

He spread his arms wide open.

“Mate, I could tell you anything.”

The blurred Church’s vision and before he knew it, his fists were wrapped in Wyoming’s lapels and dragged him up out of his seat.  Not an inconsiderable feat if one thought about it, but thought really had no place in Church’s rage.  “Whaht did you sahy?”  His clenched teeth turned his accent into a growl.  “Whaht did you juhst sahy?”

(Source: bluenotehotshot)

reggicide:

bluenotehotshot:

bluenotehotshot:

Church tensed under Wyoming’s hand and his glowered darkened behind his glasses. “No, actually. I feel like exercising my right to have nothing to do with you. And bringing up my Pop ain’t gonna change my mind. So you go have a seat, mate.”

He was actually kind of proud…

“Hey!”  Church attempted to protest, being dragged along whether he wanted to be or not.  Despite his gentlemanly appearance, age and outward show of ease, Wyoming’s hand was like an iron vice around Church’s arm (Church’s lack of strength in question or not).

The moment Wyoming let him go to sit down, however, Church was turning on his heel to get back to the counter.  “Ah don’t care what you have to say about mah Pop.  Leave me out of it.”

Dammit.  That fucking accent was getting loose again.

Wyoming sat at the table and propped his chin on his fist, watching as Church spun around to stalk off back to the counter.

Wyoming would still be able to talk to him if he was at the counter, but it was the principal of matter - which was, to get Church to sit down and actually gossip chat with him.

“You know,” he called to the retreating figure, ” we don’t have to talk about the Director. Honestly, I don’t like him all that much myself.” His voice lowered in scandalised horror, “he puts coffee in teacups. And, well, let’s not even mention his goatee.”

He stared critically at Church’s back before turning his attention to his fingernails, buffing them lightly on his sleeve - “You know, we could talk about Tex if you like.”

Any mention of Church’s father and Wyoming’s supposed dislike of him (as if Church would believe that even if it were true) didn’t slow his strategic getaway any.  The mention of Tex, however, made him rock to a halt, spin around and stalk back.

He glared down at Wyoming, visibly seething.  “What,” he  demanded, “do you have to say about Tex?”