#people like to say Indiana is a backwater place but we had more than a little bit of culture

[animeandcatholicism]

It was between Spanish,German, French and Latin. Spanish was too common,French has super dumb rules, Latin was for preppy kids so, I chose German.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You - Chpt.2

Summary: Steve calls Bucky to tell him he was right and the two get to know each other a little more. Still drawn to one another, the guys go out on their first date. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warning: mention of past child neglect/ abuse in regards to how Bucky lost his arm. It’s only a couple paragraphs but it’s depressing AF. 

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! There is a smidge of angst in this chapter and I had never really intended for it go that direction. Damn characters not behaving the way I want them to! I apologize in advance for giving you some sad feels on this one, I got myself with them too. But hopefully there’s enough fluffiness to balance it out. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Two

Becca sleeps the day away but it’s a restless fever ridden sleep with her waking up every few hours to cry that her stomach hurts. Bucky manages to catch cat naps while she sleeps but they’re both exhausted by the time the day is over. He manages to get some fluids in her once she’s fully woken up and she keeps most of it down, much to Bucky’s relief. He hates seeing his baby girl sick and is thankful for his medical training, so that he knows what to expect and look out for. It’s just past seven o’clock at night and while they would normally be doing Becca’s bath time routine, he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt her. She finally drank the rest of her Pedialyte and is half watching an episode of Wonder Pets while her eyes droop sleepily. He waits until her eyes stay shut for a few minutes before awkwardly scooping up the little girl to carry her off to bed. He doesn’t have a free hand to turn off the TV, having taken off his prosthetic the second he got back from the bodega, but figures he needs to go back out to clean things up for the night anyways. 

“Bucky?” Becca slurs sleepily as he lays her down in her bed. 

“Yeah, Becs?” He pulls up her comforter, getting it tucked tightly around her body like she prefers. 

“Love you.” she half says, half yawns. 

Bucky fights back the tears that prickle in the corner of his eyes. “Love you too, bug. Get some rest.”

Becca gives a little nod and then sprawls out into her usual sleeping position. 

Bucky shuts off her lamp and closes the door, leaving it open just a crack in case she needs him in the night. She seems to be getting to the otherside of whatever virus she’d caught but he knows it isn’t always a sure thing. He hopes he’ll only have to miss one day of work staying home with her but knows it’ll most likely be two.

There isn’t too much of a mess to clean up but Bucky busies himself with turning off the TV and clearing the coffee table. He’s washing the dishes and debating his dinner options when his phone buzzes angrily in his back pocket. Drying off his hand, he pulls out his phone and sees Steve’s name on the screen. Bucky swipes to accept the call and nestles the phone between his shoulder and jaw. “Hey, Steve.” 

“Bucky, hey.” Steve replies eagerly. “So I’ve spent the last six hours doing nothing but reading history articles and I gotta say, you were right.” 

Bucky smiles as he rifles through his cabinets for something to eat, “I suspected as much. How far off is it? Out of curiosity.” 

Steve sighs heavily through his nose and Bucky wondered how exasperated the other man must look. “It’s pretty fuckin’ terrible.” he finally admits.

Bucky laughs, “Wow, you really do know how to curse!” 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, ya jerk. It was just… surprising, I guess, to see how much these so-called experts missed. Don’t get me wrong, I know some people had it okay and some people had it a lot worse, but the way they make the whole thing feel so… sterile... I don’t know. They don’t seem to capture the feel of the times. Like yes we had food rations, but they don’t tell you how small those rations were. And how even if you got your stamps you might not be able to find the food you had a stamp for. My mother had to go all the way to Queens one time just to buy eggs so we’d have something with protein to eat.”

“That sounds terrible, I can’t even imagine.” Bucky juggles the phone carefully as he pulls down a tin of tuna. 

“We made it, somehow. And it wasn’t all terrible all the time, but it was a sight worse than they make it out to be. It’s like that now too, isn’t it? The world isn’t quite as progressive as people like to think it is?” 

Bucky pauses, trying to sort out his words. “It is and it isn’t. I think my experience is a little different than most but it’s definitely not the rainbows and goodwill that they say it is.” 

Steve’s voice is low and rich like good bourbon pouring across the phone lines. “Tell me what it’s like for you, then.” 

Bucky stills, shocked by the raw earnestness of Steve’s words. There’s an undercurrent too, like something whispered in a lover’s ear in the dead of night. It stirs things inside Bucky that he hasn’t had the time or inclination for in a really long time. Figuring he should reciprocate the honesty Steve has afforded him so far, Bucky hops up to sit on the kitchen counter and gets himself comfortable to tell his story. “Well, I grew up in a little backwater town in Indiana. The biggest export of our town was meth and most everyone was affected by that. People used religion like a weapon and thought The Republican Way was gospel. I didn’t fit in to any of that from day one and it made growing up there hard.” 

“What were you like as a kid?” Steve asks, curious.

“I was pretty much everything that town wasn’t. My parents weren’t really able to take care of me so I figured out early on how to care for myself. I was angry a lot because of that once I got older. I didn’t really try to fit in. I studied hard, worried about getting good grades so I could earn scholarships to a decent college and get out of there. I didn’t care much about religion and was fiercely liberal from the time I understood what politics were. And I’m queer, that didn’t help me fit in either. I, uh, I hope that doesn’t bother you.” Bucky falters, knowing Steve’s generation was a lot less forgiving about that sort of thing. 

“It doesn’t. I’m bi, actually. We did have homosexuality back in the thirties despite what the historians think.” 

“Holy shit.” Bucky blurts out. Captain America is bisexual. 

“It’s not something that comes up a lot, but I don’t hide it when asked. Somehow it never seems to make the news though.” 

“I think it would seriously fuck with some people’s world view if it did. That’s good, though. That you don’t have to hide it. It’s one of those things that isn’t quite like the news reports it. Sure, things are a hell of a lot better now for queer folk, but we still get bullied, discriminated against, sometimes even killed.” Despite himself, Bucky yawns deeply. He’s beyond tired but unwilling to hang up. 

“You sound exhausted.” Steve notes, “I should let you go.”

“No, it’s okay. I just had a long night followed by a long day. I’ll crash soon and hopefully Becca sleeps in tomorrow.” 

“Becca is your… daughter?” 

“My sister, actually. I adopted her when she was born. She feels like she’s mine but I never wanted to hide that fact that I’m her brother, not her dad. I don’t want her growing up not knowing who she really is.”

“You’re pretty amazing, Buck.” And Steve means every weighted word of it. 

Bucky shakes his head, almost dislodging his phone in the process. “Just got lucky enough to make a better life for myself, and her. That’s all.” 

“I think there’s a lot more to it than that, but okay. Really though, I should let you go. We can talk another day? Maybe grab that lunch together?” 

“Yeah, definitely. My schedule is a little crazy but I have off rotation in a few days, we could go out Thursday while Becca’s at preschool?”

“It’s a date. I’ll text you later this week so we can figure out the where and when.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Night, Steve.” 

The warm smile on Steve’s face practically shines through the phone line, “Night, Buck.” 

Bucky hangs up and stares around his tiny apartment in amazement. If you had told him a week ago that he was going to insult Captain America to his face and end up befriending him, he would have called you crazy. It’s a little odd having to separate the public persona he knows as Captain America, from Steve, the real guy under the cowl, but Bucky is looking forward to getting to know the real him better. 

xxXxx

“The best pizza in Brooklyn, huh?” Steve questions, squinting up at the shop’s sign. 

Bucky nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. They still use the old fashioned brick ovens and homemade sauce. Fresh herbs, locally sourced cheese. It sounds fancy but it’s really just good, old school, pizza.” 

“We’ll see. Sam recently introduced me to the concept of a dollar slice, and I think anything will be better than that.” 

“Oh man, yeah. Some places are decent, but most are shit.”

Bucky and Steve order a large pie to share, picking a small table in the back to sit at. Steve is amused when he spots a cooler with real glass bottles of soda and grabs one for each of them. Bucky smiles when he sees the bottles, able to guess Steve’s amusement at seeing something familiar. 

The pizza is up before they know it and Steve is moaning at the first bite. “Sorry.” he mumbles around his mouthful of gooey cheese. “It’s really good.” 

Bucky swallows quickly so he can respond, “Told ya.” 

Steve nods, properly contrite. “You did. Thanks for bringing me here.” 

“Any time.” Bucky smiles over at him and wonders what it would be like if they were out on a real date. One that ended with Steve walking him home and kissing him goodnight. He tries to shake the fantastical idea from his mind but it lingers, coming to the surface whenever Steve looks at him a little longer than most would find polite. 

They’re quiet through Steve’s first two slices, Bucky finishing his first as Steve goes for a third. Bucky has a healthy appetite but Steve is something else. “Super soldier, sorry.” Steve tells him with a shrug when he sees Bucky eyeing up his plate.

“No judgement here. Everyone’s gotta eat.” Bucky assures him. 

Steve slows down enough to make conversation after a little while, asking Bucky questions about his job and Becca. Steve is infinitely impressed with Bucky’s job as an ER nurse considering his mother had been a nurse and he knows first hand what a toll that profession can take on people. 

Bucky catches Steve glancing at his sleek metal prosthetic but the blonde is too polite to bring it up. “You can ask, you know. Most people just make assumptions about it, none of which are even close to the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes, “I didn’t want to be rude.” 

“You’re not. It’s not my favorite topic but I’m better talking about it now. Go ahead, ask.”

Steve hesitates but trusts Bucky to know his own mind. “Okay, then. Bucky, how did you lose your arm?” 

Bucky takes a steadying breath and dives into the polite for public version of how he lost his left arm. His parents took him to the lake one summer when he was six, he’d begged for months and they finally agreed to drive out to spend a day there. He got a scratch on his arm and it got infected from the lake water. His parents weren’t too great on the whole “parenting” thing and didn’t notice when it got infected until he collapsed. At that point the arm was too far gone and the doctors had amputated it just above the elbow. 

What Bucky leaves out is that the scratch had actually been a gash and he’d gotten a beating for being careless before they headed for home. Sitting sorely in the backseat the whole bumpy ride home, using his own tshirt to wrap around his arm to help slow the bleeding. It was his transformers tshirt and it had been his favorite. Bucky leaves out the week of agonizing pain as the gash got worse, the infection burning and itching horribly until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Both of his parents were too strung out to notice and he’d tried, the best he could at that age, to put band-aids on it but then he caught another beating for using up all the band-aids. Bucky doesn’t tell Steve that the days he spent in the hospital were some of the best he could remember back then. The nurses were nice and brought him hot food three times a day. On Friday an ice cream cart came around. There were books he could read and other kids he could play with. When it was time for him to go home, he’d cried the entire way. 

Bucky notices Steve is staring at him expectantly and realizes he's gone silent, lost in the less than pleasant memories. “Sorry, it was a long time ago.” he clears his throat, pushing past the ugly memories and moving on, “I got this bad boy through a grant from a children’s hospital when I was fifteen. It was strange having two arms at first. Up until that point I’d spent most of my life with just the one. It was after that hospital stint that I decided on nursing. The nurses who cared for me during both of my hospital stays were just amazing. They took what could have been really scary experiences and made them into something good. I wanted to be able to do that for someone else, someday.” 

“Nurses are definitely superheroes.” Steve acknowledges. “My ma worked in the TB ward when I was a kid. She just had this way about her that she could spin any negative life threw at her into a positive. She was incredible. And I wasn’t an easy kid by any means.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that in the history books. Something about you being a feisty little shit always getting himself in trouble.” Bucky smirks, waiting for Steve to dispute it.

“It wasn’t quite as bad as they say it was. I only broke up a handful of fights over the years and always bullies who deserved it. I was as sick as they claimed though. The medical records were all real and my poor ma worked herself to the bone just trying to keep my lungs and heart going.”

“I feel for her. Even with medical training, it’s awful watching your kid get sick. Becca has some issues, she was born premature, and even though I know exactly what’s an annoyance versus a true issue, it’s still so hard watching her struggle.” 

Steve’s expression falls, “I’m so sorry, Buck.” He reaches out across the table on impulse and grasps Bucky’s hand in his. “What, uh... if you don’t mind me asking, what issues does she have? You’ve seen my list and part of that was from being a preemie myself. It’s not like mine, is it?” 

Bucky wants to melt through the booth into a puddle at the warm heavy contact of Steve’s hand over his. “No, not quite so bad. Her immune system isn’t the greatest, she has asthma that we have relatively under control, a heart murmur that the docs still think will close as she gets older, she’s anemic but has meds for it, and she’s never quite been out of the danger zone on the growth chart. She’s just a tiny little thing, but she's the cutest little girl you’ll ever lay eyes on.”  

“I have no doubt. She’s really lucky he has you.” 

They’re quiet for a moment, nothing to fill the silence but Steve’s thumb rubbing rhythmically over the ridges of Bucky’s knuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t exactly pick the happiest first date topics, did I?” Steve forces a painfully awkward laugh, taking back his hand as he tries to think of a less serious topic for them.

“First date, huh?” Bucky grins despite himself. 

Steve blushes from the tips of his ears down past his collar and Bucky wonders just how far down that blush goes. “It doesn’t have to be. Unless you want it to be one. I had a really great time, regardless. I don’t get out mu-”

“Steve!” Bucky cuts him off, waving his hand in surrender. “Breathe a minute so I can answer.” he pauses and Steve takes a slightly dramatic breath, shooting Bucky a wry smile. “There we go. I had a really great time too. And yes, I’d like it if this was a date. And if there are more dates following this one.” 

“Oh,” Steve is rendered speechless by the warmth blossoming in his chest. “That would be swell.” 

“Swell? Really?” Bucky laughs in disbelief. 

Steve’s blush flares to life again. “Sorry, sorry. Old man word, I know. What are the kids using these days? Nifty?” 

Bucky groans, “Cool, Steve. Just stick with cool.” 

“Okay, cool.” Steve sasses playfully. 

Bucky rolls his eyes before checking his watch. It’s almost time to go get Becca, they had spent two hours talking and it still feels like not enough time. “Shit. I gotta head out for Becca. Preschool lets out at three.” 

“Not a problem, I’d say I’m sorry for keeping you so long but I really enjoyed myself.” Steve snatches the paper slip with their bill on it and hurries over to the counter to pay. “You were right, so lunch is on me.” he insists.

“That’ll teach you not to bet against me, huh?” Bucky quips.

“I don’t know. This worked out pretty well for me. I learned a lot of new stuff, broadened my perspective on some things, went out with a cute guy, ate the best pizza in Brooklyn, and it sounds like I’ll get to go out with that cute guy again. I think this turned out pretty good.” 

Bucky laughs and gives him a playful shove as they leave the pizza shop together. They pause along the brick wall of the shop, neither man wanting to part ways just yet. “I don’t have off rotation for another three days but I’d like to see you again.” Bucky says, toying with the hem of his shirt. He feels like a damn teenager again. 

“Whenever you want, Bucky. My schedule is flexible unless I get called away for a long mission. I’ll take whatever time you’re willing to share with me.” Steve doesn’t want to push, but he’s willing to do whatever he needs to in order to see Bucky again. 

“I appreciate that. I know my schedule isn’t traditional but it’s my life for right now.” 

“And that’s okay.” Steve assures him, though he looks pretty nervous suddenly. He clears his throat twice before he finally asks, “Would it be too fast if I asked to kiss you right now?” 

Bucky’s pupils flare at the question, his reaction answering Steve before his voice does. “Not at all.” he murmurs moving closer to Steve.

Steve’s lips are a breath away from Bucky’s as he whispers “Oh good” and takes the kiss that Bucky so freely gives. Steve fights for composure, they’re on a public sidewalk for heaven’s sake. Bucky’s mouth slots against his like missing puzzle pieces, both warm and insistent as the kiss deepens. 

Steve kisses like he’s drowning and Bucky is reeling to keep up. How something so innocent turned so quickly is beyond comprehension but Bucky doesn’t want it to stop. The alarm on his phone reminding him it’s pick up time for Becca ends things quickly though. “I’ve gotta get Becca. Like, now.” he breathes raggedly against Steve’s mouth. 

“Okay. Okay.” Steve repeats like he’s convincing himself. “To be continued?” 

“To be continued.” Bucky agrees, leaning in for one last quick peck and then heading off to go pick up Becca.

[haughtbreaker]

Pour Me More Ch 2: Only a Memory

Thank you so much for all those that took a chance on this story. I appreciate all the comments and kudos. Thanks to @jaybear1701 for repeatedly telling me to stop using the word "form" and to use more commas. Although I have a huge chunk of this story typed, I’m going to be getting ready for Earp-a-palooza so I’m knee deep in prep. I’ll have a vendor table there for GalPalStitches.Com if anyone wants to drop by.

Also Posted on AO3.

Trigger Warning: Mention of past suicide attempt.

Accompanying Song for this Chapter: Beauty from Pain by SuperChick

The moment her plane touched down, Nicole could feel the chill permeating through the window. She tugged her hoodie a little closer, knowing she would soon have to adorn the heavy coat that took up most of the space inside her backpack. Even with the buds in her ears, she could still hear the flight attendant droning on about keeping her seat belt on and not standing in the aisles until the plane came to a complete stop. Nervously, she gripped the small keychain in her pocket, running her thumbnail between the layers of the keyring.

When the door to the plane opened, a rush of cold filled the air and Nicole realized something she hadn't even considered… there was no warm walkway waiting outside the door leading to the airport, only icy wind and a long trek across the tarmac. She quickly tugged out her jacket, barely getting her beanie over her head before someone was clearing their throat impatiently behind her.

The frigid cold bit right into Nicole's face as she stepped down the stairs, trying not to slip on the stairs that looked at least half a century old. She attempted to turn her mind away from her burning eyes and the frigid shock to her lungs as she followed the flock of people that headed towards a nearby building. Instead, she thought about home, picturing the sun shining on the perfect break, the wind smelling of salt and sunscreen. She tried to taste the seawater on her tongue and hear the wind blowing through the leaves of coconut trees, the feel of soft skin under her fingertips and lips pressing against the spot just below her left ear. Listening closely, she could hear that voice…

"My beautiful beach rat."

Nicole blinked as her eyes began to water, lost in a memory of what once was, her feet working by autopilot. A blast of artificial heat assaulted her just inside the door and she was pulled back to the present, feeling her skin drying almost instantly. "Welcome to fucking Canada," she mumbled as she moved with the crowd being herded towards the baggage area by security ribbons and faded signs. The large digital display on the wall told her it was just before noon and she tried not to think too much about what she'd be doing if she were home, about how she'd be in third period, American History. A lot of good that would do her now.

It wasn't a far walk. The airport didn't appear to be much bigger than one of those gas stations surrounded by cornfields in rural Indiana or some other horror movie shit like that. Where zombie kids came out of nowhere to slaughter you if you weren't paying attention.

It didn't fill her with a sense of comfort.

From what her mother had told her about her hometown, Purgatory was a bit of a shithole - a place where you were lucky if your house had indoor plumbing. She hadn't even fathomed that outhouses were still a thing. Her thoughts lingered on midnight bathroom trips and the probability of freezing to death on a shitter.

There had to be a statistic for that somewhere.

The baggage area was straight ahead through a set of automatic doors. The guard blocking the exit from the secure area was a man who had to be at least 80 years old, sitting on a stool and sleeping soundly. To Canada's credit, the waiting loved ones seemed to be keeping honest by staying near the baggage claim, waiting patiently for the passengers to exit.

Nicole wasn't quite sure who she should be looking for and raised an eyebrow as she saw a girl dressed in black leather holding a hand-written sign that said Haught Pants McGee. The girl wore a pair of aviator glasses that she lowered to look at Nicole. Blue eyes, angular features and all attitude, no doubt stuck in some sort of personal rebellion against the social norm. This had to be one of the sisters she'd heard about. Nicole sighed softly, walking straight up to her and stopping.

"I don't think we're at the point in our relationship where you can make fun of my name yet."

The girl shrugged, folding up the sign. "Well, can I make fun of you being gay at least? I do have to say, I always wanted a gay cousin. I'm Wynonna."

"I'm pretty sure that could be considered some level of prejudice." Nicole gave her a wry look. She wasn't quite sure how to gauge her new acquaintance. "Well, I'm Nicole and I can't say I ever wanted a leather-clad deviant as a cousin… adopted cousin… or second cousin of my mother's adoptive family... however the hell this works."

"Funny, I'm not the one that was sent off to another country," Wynonna paused. "This time. Shit, maybe we are related… by adoption," she mocked before pursing her lips and looking around awkwardly. "So… now that we've firmly established that we could legally bone without being shunned by society… you got more shit than that little backpack? Cause you're a little too tall for my meticulously assembled wardrobe and you're definitely about a dick and a half too tall for Waverly's shit."

Nicole couldn't help smiling. She'd had a picture of what the people of Purgatory would be like, but this was definitely not it. Wynonna was snarky and crass. It reminded her a little of her best friend back home, the one that was still alive anyway. "Yeah, I've got a suitcase and a duffle. And is the phallic measuring system particular to Canada as a whole or your own personal flare?"

"Easy now, Haught. I don't think we're in that stage of our relationship that you can ask me about my personal flare," Wynonna quipped with a wink. "And I hope you don't expect me to help you carry shit… I've got like… corporal tunnel."

"Carpal tunnel," Nicole corrected. "One too many hand jobs?"

Wynonna had the audacity to smirk. "Maybe a dozen too many." When a buzzer rang through the area, there were a few clanks before the small baggage carousel started spinning. "Let's get your shit so we can get back to Purgatory."

The drive was longer than Nicole thought it would be. It took about an hour of listening to Wynonna's shitty death metal that Nicole was pretty sure was Scandinavian before they passed the sign that said "Welcome to Purgatory! You'll never want to leave." Nicole swallowed audibly as they passed through the town at what had to be double the speed limit.

Nicole watched with apprehension as Wynonna seemed to almost gleefully speed past the sheriff's department, her eyes watching the rearview mirror with disappointment as no one noticed, as if she wanted to be pulled over. Wynonna huffed and turned the music down just a bit and slowed as the building disappeared out of view behind them.

It took another 15 minutes to push straight through the other side of town and drive the short distance away to what looked like a farm of sort. The house wasn't at all the shack Nicole imagined it would be, she thought, the Jeep pulling to a halt with a jolt. It was a two story house with a porch that wrapped around two sides of it. Behind the house and a bit away, there appeared to be a greenhouse that had seen better days, some of the windows cracked or missing.

Nicole slipped out of the Jeep, her legs a little unsteady after the less-than-smooth ride. There was a loud creak and she saw a woman standing in the doorway. She was slightly familiar, not from Nicole's own memories, but from photos she'd seen when she was younger.

"Nicole." The woman had short grey hair and wore a flannel shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans. She held the screen door open, expecting Nicole to enter.

Grabbing her suitcase and duffel from the back of the jeep, Nicole kept her head down, stepping inside and looking around. It was… rustic was the best word she could think of. Not exactly Martha Stewart's idea of rustic, but certainly not the backwater redneck motif she was expecting.

"Alright, let me look at you." Gus stepped up to her, a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes held a wisdom that seemed befitting of her old age. Gus had of course aged since the pictures from her mother's childhood. "You look just like your mother, but definitely a lot taller," Gus mused.

"Yeah." Nicole nodded. "So I've been told." She wasn't in the mood to talk about her mother. It was one of the things she'd dreaded, having to discuss her dead mother with the woman that had adopted her. Her mother had never spoken ill of Gus, just that she was a no-nonsense woman with keen observation skills. Gus hadn't come to the funeral and Nicole hadn't understood at the time, but after her own experience with grief, it had bought Gus a bit of lenience.

Wynonna entered the house with a slam of the door, causing everyone to jump.

"Damn it, Wynonna." Gus shook her head.

Wynonna held up her hands. "Not nice to swear at kids, Gus. You're gonna give Haught here a bad impression."

"You are not a damn kid anymore. In fact, isn't it about time you went and got yourself a job?"

"I'd love to, Gus," Wynonna shrugged, "but you know with this economy, it's getting harder to find a job that will pay you an honest living when you've got a college education, let alone being a high school dropout."

"That's funny because your sister got a job during the summer, and she's two years younger than you and still in high school."

"You got her that job!"

Nicole just watched as they argued back and forth, feeling a bit like a third wheel but also feeling a passive amusement. She'd never really gotten the opportunity to argue with her mother like this, and even if Wynonna and Gus weren't actually mother and daughter, it was an interesting dynamic.

"Can you just show her to her room, please, while I get started on dinner?" Gus massaged her temple. "I have to work tonight and I'd rather not do it with a dang headache."

Wynonna did an about face, heading to the stairs and stopping suddenly before looking at Nicole. "You coming or what?"

"Sure." Nicole shook her head, grabbing her luggage. "Thanks, Gus," she said as she passed the older woman. It was a bit of a struggle getting the luggage up the stairs, but she got there to find Wynonna leaning against the wall near a door, arms crossed over her chest. "Thanks."

"Glad to help." Wynonna responded. "Here's your room. Mine is down the hall over there and my sister Waverly's room is between ours. Gus sleeps in the room downstairs."

"OK." Nicole nodded, setting her things just inside the door before looking up at Wynonna.

Wynonna pursed her lips, tapping the toe of one of her boots for a moment before clapping her hands once. "Okay, then. Welcome to Purgatory." She turned on her heels and left without another word.

Nicole released a long sigh as she looked around the room. "Well…" She shucked off the heavier coat she wore but kept her hoodie on, hugging the material closer to her. The room wasn't much smaller than her room back home, but it smelt like storage and the walls were bare. The bed looked new, at least, with fresh sheets and a thick comforter.

She probably should have started unpacking - settling into what was going to be her new life for however long her father didn't want to deal with her anymore. She didn't blame him, of course. He hadn't been the same since her mother died. Her grief was a mirror of his own, a living reminder of what loss felt like. It was easier for him to turn his back on her than to live through it again.

She ignored her suitcase completely, grabbing her duffle bag as she sat on the bed. It was softer than she liked, almost as soft as Shae's pillowtop. "Stop." She broke the silence of the room. She knew she needed to stop comparing everything to… before.

Her watch alarm went off with a soft beep, a reminder that came three times a day of just how fragile she was. In her backpack she found three brown bottles, the contents rattling softly as she fought against the child-safety locks. Her grip strength still hadn't come back fully, even after months of physical therapy. Eventually she was able to tip out the collection of whites and peach that had become her life, washing them back with the half-empty bottle of water she'd gotten on the plane. With a grimace at the bitter taste left on her tongue, Nicole tossed the bottles back into the safety of her backpack. She wasn't quite ready to share that part of herself with her new housemates. No doubt her father had already told Gus, but no sense in giving Wynonna what could be prime ammo to use against her.

From her backpack she pulled a small framed photo, her fingertip brushing along the line of Shae's jaw. "Well… we're in some shit, Babe." She set the photo on the nightstand and pulled a familiar plush throw from her duffle bag. She could feel the lethargic wave washing over her, the side effect of her medication almost irresistible when combined with hours of traveling.

Kicking off her shoes, she pushed her bags to one side of the bed before wrapping herself in the throw, breathing in the scent of home. Looking around the room once more, she let her eyes settle on the photo of Shae as she drifted off to sleep.

The sun was reaching for the horizon by the time Waverly stepped out of the locker room and headed towards the parking lot. Cheerleading had gone a little long but still Wynonna was nowhere to be seen. She sniffled against the cold as she checked her wristwatch.

"Waves!"

Looking up, she raised a hand as Jeremy jogged up to her, his breath coming out in white puffs of condensation. "Hey Jer-bear." She smiled at her best friend who was carrying a stack of books. It was Friday which meant he had been meeting with the science club. A genius when it came to anything science, he was the only other student in Purgatory that was graduating a year early, but unlike Waverly, he wasn't a cheerleader that was liked by everyone in town. He often got pushed around by the asshole jocks of the school and Waverly did her best to shield him with her own popularity. Not only was he picked on for his intelligence, but also for being one of the few out gay students in school, and the only person Waverly had confided in regarding her questioning her own sexuality.

"What are you still doing here, Crazy." He scratched at the stubble forming along his jaw. "It's freezing! Where's your Jeep?"

Waverly shrugged. "Wynonna had to pick someone up from the airport so she took it. She's running a little late, as always."

"Classic Wynonna." Jeremy shook his head. "Got some family visiting?"

"Kind of." Waverly pursed her lips, trying to think of the best way to explain it. "I guess she's kind of like a second cousin but not really? Her mom was adopted by Gus as a kid," she explained. "And I guess she's going to be living with us for a little bit. I'm not exactly sure how long."

"Whoa." Jeremy raised his eyebrows in surprise, shifting the books in his hands so he could adjust his beanie. "That's kind of crazy. Have you not met her before?"

Waverly shook her head, feeling the chill attacking her uncovered face. "Nope. Her dad is American so she lives in California…lived I guess."

Jeremy grimaced. "From California to Purgatory… that's gonna be a bit of a weather shock."

Waverly chuckled. "Completely. You'll probably meet her on Monday," she paused before an idea came to her, " unless you wanted to come over this weekend?" She gave Jeremy her best pleading look. "We can study for our physics exam?"

"As if you needed to study." He rolled his eyes in exaggeration before sniffling.

"There's never any harm in studying, even when you know the answers." Waverly heard the sound of the gears on her Jeep grinding before she saw Wynonna skidding into the lot. "God damn it, Wynonna." Waverly barked as both she and Jeremy took an instinctual step back, the Jeep barely stopped in time.

"Sup Nerd," Wynonna nodded towards Jeremy before looking at Waverly. "Get in, Loser."

Waverly rolled her eyes before giving Jeremy a quick hug. "Tomorrow? Please?"

Jeremy sighed. "You know I can't say no to you."

"Good. Awesome. Thank you. I love you." Waverly grinned and waved before she slipped into the Jeep. As they pulled away, she reached over and turned the volume of the death metal down. "So…."

"So what?"

Waverly narrowed her eyes at her sister. "What are your thoughts?"

"That Hanson should never have stopped making music."

"Wynonna!"

Wynonna huffed. "What do you want me to say? She's… quiet, but snarky. Taller than me… like Wonder Woman kind of tall minus the leather bathing suit. She… looks so gay."

Waverly had to laugh. "What the heck does that mean?" Waverly looked down at her own clothes, star speckled leggings tucked into fuzzy calf-high boots under her cheerleading uniform that was covered with a puffy white jacket with faux-fur trim. Did she's look gay? Or bisexual rather? She didn't think so.

"You're just gonna have to see for yourself I guess."

Waverly nodded, looking out at the stretch of road ahead of them. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.