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trivialqueen · 5 years

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A Haunting in LA [Red Cricket AU]

Also known as this started out as like a one page little anecdote and turned into this 10 page, 4,414 word monster.

Summary: Ruby and Archie share a conversation and a moment, circa 2009. Part of The Quiet Ones AU (A magic free Red Cricket AU). Any by ‘part of’ I mean I started putting this into ‘The Quiet Ones’ and realized it didn’t fit, but I loved it so much I had to keep it. So, I came up with this little interlude.

Disclaimer: It’d be a fairytale reality indeed if I owned Once Upon a Time or anything associated with the show. No infringement or offense intended.

Pairing(s): Archie Hopper/Ruby Lucas

A wintery mix of rain and snow lashed against the diner windows as Archie slid into his favorite booth at Granny’s. It had been ‘a day’ to put it mildly and it was two o’clock. Really, he should have just gotten back into bed when he realized the stars were stacked against him this morning.

It had been raining when Pongo had gone out for his morning business, creating a thin glazing of ice over the deck and yard in the freezing predawn hours. He’d noted the way Pongo had slipped and slid on his way down the wooden stairs to the back yard but thought nothing of it as he put the kettle on. The beauty of central heat keeping his bare feet warm as he stood at the stove and started making breakfast.

He’d gotten all the way through his eggs and toast and the entire front section of the Daily Mirror when he realized he’d not heard Pongo asking to be let back in. During the summer months Pongo would stay outside until Archie had to use his alpha voice to get him to come back in or risk being late for work. But it was a rainy February morning. Shuffling to the kitchen window he soon realized why. Pongo, his energetic, sweet, highly trained, intelligent…dumbass of a dog had managed to get his head and one of his front legs stuck in the fence. The picturesque white picket fence that ringed his yard had been broken since December, but with the snow and ice and cold he’d not hurried to fix it. Up until now it’d not been an issue either.

His first mistake was being in a hurry. He’d put on his house shoes barefoot and just threw his jacket on over his time worn Michigan tee shirt and rushed out the door. His second mistake was forgetting how much Pongo had skidded on the back porch. He bounded out the door and his feet flew out from under him and in the next second he was flat on his back looking up at the icicles on his eaves. All of the air had been forced out of his lungs, he could see it hanging in the air like a thick fog and somehow, inexplicably his left moccasin was now four feet in the yard. He had to crawl to retrieve it, his flannel pajama pants soaked from knee to him, his hands freezing because of course his gloves weren’t in his coat pocket.

And then of course there was getting Pongo out of the fence. His poor pup was cold, frightened, frustrated, and covered in mud like he’d been wallowing in a pig sty. It took all of the swearwords he knew, plus a few more that he made up before the dalmatian was free. They were both covered in mud and soaked to the bone but able to get back in the house without incident. Of course, once inside the warm, dry house Pongo did what all wet dogs did… He saw it like it was shot in slow motion, the undulation of Pongo’s shoulders, hips and tail, the way the water and muck just few off of him…and all over the kitchen. To add insult to injury, as the slow-mo mudding occurred his sadistic mind sang him Harry Belefonte – shake shake shake senora, shake your body line; Shake shake shake senora, shake it all the time.

“Nooooooooo!” He knew he sounded like he’d just found out Darth Vadar was his father, but it was still cathartic. There was mud and water everywhere, including on the wall clock… which was also telling him that maybe if he and Pongo hopped in the shower together, he might still have a chance of making his first appointment on time.

Predictably Pongo did not want to take a shower and instead created the sixth Great Lake in his bathroom. Archie was marginally more successful in cleaning up that mess by standing on a towel and shuffling around to mop up the standing water while also brushing his teeth. He gave up on toweling off Pongo and instead tried to pretend that he was happy with the dog at least being clean when he shook himself for the second time. Archie tore through his bedroom and pulled on the first things which came to hand, resulting in an outfit which was warm and serviceable if not terribly well thought out. The Duck boots only looked slightly off with his brown cords however and he just hoped no one would notice as he flew out the door like he could make up the fact he was ten minutes late in his five-minute walk to work. In his mad rush he had remembered his gloves, which had been sitting on the foyer table, but completely forgotten his lunch.

He had made good time getting to his office; however, he was still late. Late for his first session of the day, which of course was Mayor Mills. Not that his day had started on a high note, but he soon learned that it could in fact still get worse. The one upside of being so backed up that he had to work through his scheduled lunch hour was that it helped distract him from the fact he’d forgotten his lunch. However, once work slowed down and the adrenaline he’d been running on since 6:30 that morning wore off he realized he was so hungry he was shaking. Checking his watch, Micky told him what he already knew, breakfast was a long time ago.

“Mrs. Merriweather, when is my next appointment?” He leaned against the door jam, grateful that such a posture came across as casual rather than the fact he was feeling lightheaded. His highly efficient receptionist blinked at him owlishly behind large glasses which had gone out of fashion sometime in the late 80s only to somehow circled around to fashionable again.

“You only had a 4:00 appointment left and Mr. Macario, just called to postpone until tomorrow so you are without patients for the rest of your afternoon.” He could have kissed her in that moment, it was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Delightful. I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on, so please keep the rest of my day free.” She nodded and began blocking the remaining times out on the scheduler. “I’m going to head to the diner, can I bring you anything back?” He barely registered her request for a hot chocolate as he grabbed his coat and headed toward the warm glow of Granny’s.

Ruby had just finished turning over her order pad to Tiana for the day, when Archie walked through the door. The younger woman gave her an amused look as she grabbed up a menu and followed him to his usual booth, despite the fact she had just finished her shift. The heiress to Granny’s Diner and B&B resolutely ignored her friend, she had already decided to eat a post-shift lunch at the diner rather than go to the effort of cooking at home. She could do that alongside her favorite head shrinker as easily as she could alone. He’d not come in that morning for his usual coffee and Danish to go, the first workday he’d not been in since Christmas. As she crossed the empty diner, she observed him closely. He was so consistent in his habits she’d assumed he was ill when he’d not brightened her morning with his twinkling blue eyes and overly cheerful smile for so early in the day. (He was a morning person; it was a character flaw she was willing to overlook). She wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t ill as he winced taking off his coat and carefully took a seat. She became convinced of his poor health when she reached his table. Archibald J. Hopper, PhD wasn’t wearing a tie.

He might as well be naked. It was a ridiculous thing to think considering the fact he was still wearing a navy blazer, a grey wool fair isle sweater, white collared shirt, rich brown corduroy pants and boots. He was covered from wrist to ankle in layers of fabric, but one button undone at the neck was all it took for him to seem completely undone.

“We missed you this morning.” He probably didn’t need the menu, he was one of the most regular regulars of the diner since he moved to town almost a decade ago (holy shit, it’d been almost ten years since he first sat in her section, she realized with a jolt). He took the laminated card anyway and gave her a lopsided smile.

“Not by choice, Pongo had a rough morning.”

“Oh no! Is he alright?” She could remember the first time Archie had taken a wriggling, floppy eared pup for a walk past the diner, the little scamp tugging his new leash every direction as he tried to smell everything at once. In addition to regular walks Archie also had a habit of bring his dog with him to work, which also meant to the diner as he got his coffee and meals throughout the day. She never told him this, but she considered Pongo her dog as well since after Archie it was clear the dalmatian loved her best (which she was sure was entirely for her own merit and not the fact she snuck him Nilla Wafers every time she saw him).

“Possibly traumatized by the bath he had to have this morning but otherwise alright. He spent his morning constitutional wallowing in the mud and then getting his head stuck in the fence.” He laughed a little as he told her Pongo’s tale of woe, but she could see in his eyes that his day had been no cakewalk either.

“Sounds like you both need a drink.” She nodded toward the meager draft list, the ubiquitous Yuengling and Budweiser plus their one ‘seasonal tap’ which was currently a Belgian Blonde ale and the requisite hoppy IPA with a deceptively high ABV.

“Ruby, it’s two in the afternoon.” He sounded serious but she could tell he was also thinking about it. He was always so mild mannered and inoffensively polite but if you watched is eyes carefully it wasn’t hard to discern what he was really thinking – which, she was delighted to learn, was usually quite sassy if he broke character long enough to say what was really going through his head.

“Archie, I believe it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He laughed at that, a true, genuine laugh. It warmed her insides better than even Granny’s secret cocoa recipe (which was really just cocoa powder plus finely chopped dark chocolate, cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon). “I’ll even join you.” She slid into the bench across from him with a smile. He couldn’t reject her if she didn’t give him an opportunity.

“I thought your shift would have ended by now.” She tried to not read too much into that statement, which meant she of course did.

“I just finished when you arrived, and since I’d decided to have lunch here anyway, I figured I could join you.”

“I’d really like that.” She’d known sweet, nerdy Archie Hopper for nearly ten years and had come to consider him a friend. And then there were moments like right now when she absolutely thought she was going to melt.

“Hi Dr. Hopper, what can I do for you?” Tiana’s voice was like a bucket of ice water, shocking and almost a bit painful. It did succeed in bringing Ruby’s attention back to the moment. Instead of thinking about how his eyes looked different in different light and how despite the fact she was sitting beside a window with sandy little snowflake and spits of rain collecting in the corners and decorating the glass she felt warm. As warm as a hug, but it was just his smile.

“Hi, Tiana, how are you?” ‘How are you’ was such a common greeting, and most of the time fine was the automatic response because everyone knew no one really cared about the response, just the signs and signifiers of polite small-town life. Archie always asked, because Archie cared to hear the answer.

“I’ll be better once it’s spring.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” Tiana was a friend. Archie was a friend as well, but she couldn’t help feeling a little unfriendly about sharing the conversation. Archie always sat in her section. Watching someone else take his order didn’t sit right.

“They say April is the cruelest month but personally I think it’s February.” He nodded toward the window and the snow and rain. “It might be the shortest month but not one of the days has sun.”

“Why do we live in Maine? It’s cold and dark most of the year.” the grilled cheese Cubano hung limply from Ruby’s slim hand as she chewed and pontificated. He’d not expected to even see her today, given she’d always worked mornings on Thursdays for as long as he’d known her. He’d certainly not expected her to sit down and join him in his shamefully late lunch. But here they sat, steaming bowls of tomato basil bisque in front of them, half a grilled cheese Cubano on the side and two beers between them. Despite his hesitation in ordering a beer in the middle of the afternoon (what would people say if they saw the town therapist day drinking?) he had to admit after the morning’s misadventures it was absolutely necessary.

Archie sipped his beer (the Belgian Blonde, he’d never gotten into IPAs, it was probably the only thing keeping him from fully being accepted as a Mainer. 95% of Storybrooke residents drank IPAs if they drank beer) and pondered her question. He’d lived all over the US in his life and experienced the entire gamut of weather from Maine’s consistently cool temperatures and snow to Kentucky and Missouri’s extreme humidity and swamp ass to San Francisco’s year-round ideal temperatures, fog and lack of seasonal change. He actually enjoyed Maine, most of the time. Yes, the lack of sun could be draining, and the winters were long, but he loved the seasons, each distinct and beautiful, and he appreciated the cool temperatures. He was not a man made for direct sunlight, heat, and humidity.

“If not Maine, where would you live?” He didn’t get a chance to talk to Ruby as much as he’d like, and he missed it. Their brief exchanges in the morning were wonderful, as fortifying as the coffee she provided, but not quite the same as proper conversation. She looked thoughtful for a moment, taking another bite of her sandwich before answering.

“California, if I could live anywhere it’d be like Southern California – beautiful weather, dynamic city, an ocean you’d actually want to swim in. If I had a choice, especially on days like this I’d want to live in Southern California.” He felt himself perk up. Ruby was always so interesting and full of life, in addition to being strikingly beautiful, he always worried that he bored her. Afterall under his mild-mannered, tweed wearing persona was, in fact, more tweed and mild manners (and buried well under that was a thief and a killer but he did his best to block his life as Jiminy out). He craved her conversation, however, whenever he could get it. And so, he was forever trying to keep her engaged. Listening was easy, it was his strong suit, but she rarely settled for him just listening to her. She wanted him to talk too. Which was always difficult. But for once he had something to say.

“Have I ever told you about the time I spent living in San Bernardino county?”

Ruby leaned forward, eagerly. She and Archie talked all the time, sometimes at length and sometimes of substance (she’d spent an entire break barely even drinking her coffee because he was just wrong if he thought that We Have Always Lived in a Castle was a better novel than the Haunting of Hill House), but rarely did he share any information about his life, even less about his past.

“No. When did you live there?” Finally, a new kernel of knowledge for her to squirrel away in her mind.

“About fifteen years ago,” his ears turned pink and he looked into his beer, “it was during grad school, I had a research fellowship at UCLA.” She had no idea why he would be embarrassed. A research fellowship at UCLA sounded quite prestigious. It was so easy to forget he was super smart when he was always so approachable and adorkable (sometimes he used ‘Golly’ and ‘Gee wiz’ in actual conversation, he was such a pure cinnamon roll).

“So, I had this semester long fellowship at UCLA, and I needed a place to stay. I had no idea where to even begin to look for a place, I knew nothing about the area other than LA is expensive.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, swallowed, and began again. “Thankfully I had a friend, Bill who lived there, so I reached out to him. And boy, was I in luck. You see Bill worked in LA but his partner, Thomas, worked at the Huntington Library, which is this big, gorgeous research library in San Marino.” He paused, studying her face to make sure she was following this introduction of characters and geography. “Thomas lived in an apartment that was too small for one adult, let alone two. So, Bill took it upon himself to find a place to stay when he visited. And he did. Bill found a mansion,” He leaned back with a laugh, “An honest to God Tudor Revival mansion! Right at the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains.” Ruby felt herself gasp. She didn’t know a lot about Southern California, but she knew that that place had to be stunningly beautiful, and stunningly expensive.

“I know, right?!” He sounded as excited as she was, “And it was empty.” He punctuated that declaration with a sharp rap on the table. “It was empty. In California. Empty!”

“No way.” By all accounts the house was large, beautifully located, and convenient to Los Angeles. She’d have thought it would be ideal.

“It was jointly owned by a brother and sister who inherited it from their parents and since they couldn’t agree on what to do with it, they left it empty. Entirely furnished. Empty.” He had such a wonderful voice, deep and a little raspy, low and soft. She could listen to him read a phonebook so him in the role of storyteller was a real treat. Not only was his voice perfectly suited for it, but his eyes were twinkling at her. She’d loved that about him when they first met. Now, as she sat in his favorite booth at Granny’s, the weather outside frightful, but she was inside with him – and it was delightful, she was certain she was in love with that twinkle.

“Something you should know about Bill; Bill is the single most charming man you will ever meet in your life. And handsome. He could talk a dog off a meat wagon. So, he went to the sister and convinced her to let him stay in the house…” He paused dramatically, “rent free.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know!” Archie laughed with delight at his friend’s charismatic success. “He’s a level thirty bard come to life; I swear.” He shook his head lovingly and sipped his beer before continuing. “He had to pay all his own utilities and he needed take care of the property but still, rent free. An eight-bedroom mansion in San Bernardino county.”

“Holy shit!” Archie leaned forward again.

“So that’s Bill, whom I called to see if he had any recommendations for a cheap place to live for a few months near UCLA. And he was like,” And here Archie adopted a genteel southern accent. “‘Oh, you can just stay with me’. Again, this was all going to be rent free. So, I jumped at the chance. Hell yeah, cheap place to stay near where I needed to be with a backyard in the mountains.” In addition to his voice Archie was an excellent storyteller because he had excellent rhythm and tone. He varied the volume of his voice from nearly a whisper to normal volume, colored with different tones for emphasis. Sometimes he spoke slow, other times it rolled from his tongue.

“So, I get out there, a few months after I called him, and Bill isn’t living at the mansion. But he says, don’t worry, I can still stay there, same deal as before – I pay utilities and take care of the place but otherwise it’s free and all mine. I have this place entirely to myself and it’s eight bedrooms, five baths completely decorated in Tudor revival stuff. The real deal - big, heavy furniture, thick curtains, dead animal heads on the wall, it was just missing a suit of armor. I bet it hadn’t been changed since the 1940s, if not before. And honestly It was a bit eerie. It was also basically free in one of the most expensive cities in the world. So, whatever, I stayed. I started my fellowship and I rattled around the big empty house by myself.”

“Wait someone put an honest to God Tudor revival home smack in the middle of Southern California?” She’d not processed that when he’d said it before, her mind had immediately corrected to Spanish Revival, which would have made a lot of sense and looked gorgeous amongst the scenery. But Hampton Court palace in the same setting was absolutely ridiculous.

“Yes! And it’s important to keep that image in your mind, and not just because it stuck out so badly from its surroundings. This was a two story, half-timber monstrosity with dark wood, dark fabric, and hideous paintings of dead relatives on the walls. All set against a distinctly Californian backdrop – the San Gabriel mountains. There was a cactus in the front yard.” Ruby giggled into her beer. She could see it. A ‘ye old England’ mansion dropped in the middle of the dessert. She imagined the owners resolutely dressed in tweeds even in the height of summer because it was ‘proper’.

“Oh God.”

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. ‘The ugliest house on the planet. Anyway, I had been living in the house for about a month and I met up with Thomas and Bill for dinner. And we got to talking about the house. I wondered why Bill wasn’t taking advantage of the amazing deal he got – Thomas refused to stay there. Bill put all that effort into securing the place and Thomas refused to stay overnight.”

“Oh my God.” She couldn’t help but giggle. After all that work… He smirked and popped the last of the grilled cheese in his mouth, rubbing his fingers together, brushing the crumbs off of them and into the empty soup bowl. He had gorgeous hands, broad, with long fingers. They looked gentle and they looked dexterous, both of which were desirable. He washed it down with some beet before continuing.

“I asked why,” He pulled a surprised face, “and he went, “It’s haunted.” What? I say.” He used a sort of Californian, Valley boy accent for Thomas and his own low voice for himself and turned his head back and forth to imitate this conversation. ““Haunted” Thomas insisted. Oooh-kay, what makes you think it’s haunted. “I keep smelling pipe smoke.” He says. Well,” He threw up his hands. “the place is done entirely in heavy upholstery with thick curtains and rugs, so I guess it makes sense that there’s still whiffs of pipe smoke. I put it out of my mind,” He waved the thought away. “I go home, I go to bed.” He paused again, his eyes absolutely glowing with mirth. She leaned forward, practically laying on the table, but she just knew this was going to be good. “Four in the morning the house shakes VIOLENTLY,” He brought his hands down on the table with a *thwap*. “I am thrown out of bed and onto the floor and I’m thinking ‘Oh my God! the house is haunted’.” Ruby was howling. She didn’t even realize she was laughing, it just happened. It bubbled up out of her like a spring. He was laughing too, from deep in his belly. It was a nice laugh, one she wanted to hear more of. She’d heard him laugh before, but it was different, higher in the chest. This was real. And she loved it.

“But somehow,” “But somehow,” “But somehow, remarkable I got myself together and turned on the radio.” He had to start the sentence three times before he and she stopped laughing.

“It was an earthquake! The Northridge earthquake. I think I was the only person in all of California glad to find that out.”

He watched Ruby wipe tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“My cheeks are killing me, thanks so much.” He’d made her laugh. Really laugh. He could feel himself preen. He didn’t have much to offer but he could do this. And she was absolutely stunning when she laughed. It hit him like a bolt out of the blue. This was more than just friendship warming his chest.

It was love.

Note: So, this story is real and was told to me over pizza and beer by Pulitzer prize winning historian/kinda a big deal in my field Alan Taylor. His delivery was so amazing I was howling. My little fic obsessed brain was also thinking, OMG I’ve got to remember this for later! So, my deepest gratitude to Dr. Taylor.

#The Quiet Ones AU #Part of my NaNoWriMo project #Red Cricket #Trivialqueen fanfiction #This 1000% got away from me #Sorry not sorry #Ok maybe I'm a little sorry

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