#then brooke gets too reckless. maybe she hits the wrench so hard it makes a dent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blissfulalchemist · 4 years

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"Sometimes I think you have a deathwish." for Wes & Dad!Lance

Kate you are right in having me write Lance more because we can all use more of him in our lives. :’) Please enjoy your disaster son with his new father figure.

Being forty-nine didn’t always come with a ton of benefits, but being set in your ways in regards to how you listened to music was one of them. The cult trucks only ever had tape players, making it harder to listen to anything but the hymns on the radio. Thankfully Lance lived in the era of making mixtapes and he rarely threw any out. Today’s choice was a mix of seventies rock mixed with a few British punk songs, a gift from his half brother when they were friends, and perfect for the long drive back to the valley. He hated being called away by Jacob for refresh training, just another excuse to see how well his conditioning was holding up, and Lance’s hadn’t been in recent months. While it made it harder to hide it had become all the better to help those that left.

Lance had never wanted to get involved this much, but when Cat had set her mind to helping Rafael with his mission, he had to make sure she’d be safe. It was taking a lot of effort for Lance to not get attached to the young men, bad enough he cared so much for Catlina, though he excused it as her being so close in age to his own daughter, he just didn’t need anymore trouble and one of them provided that more than should be normal. Lance sighed as he slowed to take a sharp curve in the road, something reflective hitting his eyes.

He pulled over to the side of the road, needing a moment to readjust his eyes and make sure he didn’t just see what he saw on the side of the road. Lance took a glance over his shoulder, letting out a sigh as he recognized the motorcycle. Stepping out of the car he scanned the area for anything hostile or out of the ordinary before falling back onto the bike. There were some skid marks behind it and a bit of damage that Lance could see. He looked up to the tree line looking for the flash of honey brown hair, the county’s savior, spotting him a few feet in under the shade of an aspen. Lance let out a slow breath as he walked over taking in his appearance. The last time Lance saw him he had a slash to his abdomen and had a feeling this wasn’t going to be any different.

As he got closer he saw the bruising and small bits of dried blood on his cheeks. It looked as if he had walked over to try and hide, despite most of the county knowing what his bike looked like. His face seemed a bit paler than it should have been, but then again it could have just been the lighting. If Lance didn’t know any better he’d say Wes was dead with how still he was for once, but he did and that wasn’t a good sign. Here’s to hoping there’s no major injuries.

Lance put his gun away in the back of jeans bending down to lift the overgrown child, ignoring the small groans of protest from him, laying him in the small backseat of the truck. Lance picked up a bit of railing making a makeshift ramp to get the motorcycle in the bed of the truck. With one last look around the area he jumped back in the truck getting the two of them back to his house as quickly as he could manage. He’d wait to call Cat, she’d be over and worrying faster than he could finish the call and there was the matter of her having to make an appearance at the baptisms with John here soon.

Wes didn’t wake much to other than say he was in pain, or wonder what was happening, Lance could exclude any more brain injury off his list. By the time they made it to his house Wes was more alert and was able to walk into the house. Lance couldn’t help but notice that there was a small limp to Wes’ walk as they made their way to the now converted guest bedroom, something Cat insisted on doing after the last incident with Wes.

“Alright, kid let’s get you laying down,” Lance mumbled as Wes got himself settled on the full size bed. Considering the damage to the motorcycle Lance found it best to look over Wes’ head first for anything out of the ordinary, clean bill of health as far as he could tell. “Sometimes I think you have a death wish,” Lance mused as he took note of the small red mark under the corner of his jaw, “but at least you’re not dumb enough to not wear a helmet.” Lance’s inspection brought up a sprained ankle and wrist, some scrapes, bruises, and a minor concussion. Nothing that a good rest and taking it easy couldn’t fix really. Lance took care of wrapping up the ankle and wrist, elevating them before making his way to the kitchen.

There wasn’t much that he could leave out for Wes to wake up too other than foods that were better classified as snacks, not that it mattered to Wes apparently. It still surprised Lance how much he knew about the kid, albeit all second hand. Lance brought some of the food leaving it on the night stand along with a note informing Wes of his safety and how there was more food in the fridge for him. Lance, lastly, took the blanket at the end of the bed placing it over him, tucking him in before Lance could stop himself, leaving him to care for the old bike.

The damage could have been worse, especially having spun out like he did, and Lance had most of the parts lying around that he should have it fixed by morning. He rolled his sleeves up getting to work on the bike. It felt like second nature to Lance as he let his mind think back to the days before this whole mess, to when things were simpler. How Sage would come for the summers and had made friends here, the festivals, the nights at the bar with friends, the impossibility of Lance finding work as a mechanic, and how there was so much more laughter it seemed. Lance hadn’t had any times that were similar in a long time, which made it feel odd that he had brushes with the better times since Cat started to hang out with Hope County’s notorious pair.

Even before this mess he knew who Rafael and Wes were, how could one not, and alarm bells started to go off the minute Cat had told him about how she wanted to give a gift to the more responsible of the two. They were a package deal and Wes’ reputation hadn’t changed much in the years since he was a lanky teenager trying to win the approval of his father. He was reckless, head still in the clouds, loud in his plans, and had a look at me, but not that close attitude, everything that could get someone like Catlina killed….and yet, here he was caring for the kid. Lance kept telling himself that it was only because she would be devastated if something were to happen to Wes, but it was just an excuse, he did care for Wes. He shouldn’t, but he did and it was hard not too when Lance could still remember the few times they met before this. It was never for very long and even then Lance’s heart went out to the kid as his father seemed to treat him like disappointment for just being him. In Lance’s opinion Wes wasn’t that bad of a kid compared to others, he just didn’t seem to fit whatever ideal Brooks had for a son. Then again it wasn’t like his father was well liked before Wes was born from what it sounded like.

Lance was finishing in tightening a gear when movement caught his eye from the back door. Wes stood in the doorway bowl of pasta in hand, watching him, “Didn’t say you could work on my bike.” Lance noticed how he tried to shift his weight, the pain making him hold his original position.

“You also didn’t ask me to bring you here,” Lance told him as he stood to switch some tools, “Besides it needed the repairs and your wrist is out of commission for a week.” Wes looked down to the bandage as if seeing it for the first time, “I’ve told you once and I’m telling you again,” Lance pointed at him with a wrench, “You got some luck with you, could have been worse.”

Wes swallowed the bite in his mouth, “Thanks,” his eyes strayed down to his feet, “Whatta ‘bout the ankle?”

Lance brought a chair to him, “I say a week, maybe two. Week minimum though.”

“What happens if I don’t?”

Lance gave him a smile, “I tell your bestie,” Wes’ eyes widened as Lance laughed, “Not your other half, so you can calm down, just Cat.”

“Ain’t much better,” Wes took a seat on the chair, “She’s bossy.”

“Cares about ya,” Lance went back to his spot, “Good to have people like that for you.”

“Guess it’s better, she’s nicer.” Wes looked down to the food he had, “She make this?”

Lance shook his head, “Believe it or not I know how to cook. It’s not much but it’s better than living off bar peanuts.” Wes gave Lance a smirk, “Help yourself to as much as you want, kid.” The two sat in silence a bit before Wes started to hum “Blackbird” by The Beatles, “Still start with that song first I see,” Wes’ golden eyes looked his way briefly, “First year I moved up here, needed work and Brooks was mad at Merle so I came over to help out. You’d come out and watch, start hummin’ and then be forced to help us after that.”

His brows knitted together, “Don’t ‘member that.”

Lance threw his head back in a laugh, “Not surprised by that one bit.”

Wes straightened out in the chair, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know the one thing I remember the most about you,” Lance met his eyes, “That lanky teenage boy who wouldn’t give my daughter the time of day ‘cause his head was so far in the clouds to notice anything else.” Lance gave a smirk and small shrug, “Makes sense now why you were, seems you were aimin’ for a local angel. Damn near broke her heart that summer Wes.”

He fell back in the chair, eyes cast down a small flush to his cheeks, “Oh. Sorry.”

Lance waved him off, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Wouldn’t have wanted her anywhere near your dad,” Lance thought a moment, “Okay I never wanted to be near your dad more than I had too.”

“You worked with ‘em though,” Wes said, curious.

“Only when he was mad at whoever he got to work with him previously,” Lance looked over his work, “Gonna need to go somewhere else, unless you don’t care about appearances.” Wes gave a small shrug, “You just gonna fix it later aren’t ya?” Lance gave a nod as his own answer wiping his hands free of the grease pointing to the empty bowl in Wes’ lap, “You want more or somethin’ to drink?”

“Beer if you got some,” Wes said, setting the bowl down on the small table, “please.” He pulled out a carton of cigarettes looking up to Lance, “S’okay to smoke?”

Lance paused, “How many of those you smoke a day?”

He put the butt in his mouth, “Five, maybe less,” he gave a small shrug, “Why?”

“Those things’ll kill ya,” Lance pointed to the box, “You should stop, but always got the feelin’ you aren’t the type to listen to much. Don’t sound like you’re a chain smoker either so have at it. You really should quit, it’s a bad habit.” He took a step through the doorway turning to face Wes once more, “Just don’t be rude and get ash everywhere, use the ashtray.”

Lance got them the drinks quickly sitting upwind of the smoke, “You ever smoke?” Wes held the box out to Lance.

He shook his head, “Not since I was a teenager,” he took a sip of his beer, “Only stopped ‘cause my girlfriend didn’t like them.”

Wes put the box back in his pocket, “Can I ask somethin’?” Lance gave a nod, “What happened to Sage? She lives here right?”

Lance shook his head, “Never did. Just visited for the summers, till school got to be more important.”

“Divorced?”

“Yep,” Lance watched as Wes put the dwindling cigarette in the ashtray, “Lived out in Seattle. Last I know Sage lives in California, finishing up her doctorate at Stanford, with her girlfriend.”

Wes’ eyes moved to Lance quickly, “That why you stopped talking?”

“What do you mean?” Lance looked Wes over trying to figure out what it is that would prompt such a question. “Oh. You think I turned out like your old man,” Lance shook his head, “No never. We stopped ‘cause of me joining. I knew well before that.”

“You proud of her still?”

Lance nodded, “Yeah. I love her, always will be,” Wes looked away from him, he gave Wes a sympathetic look, “Sorry Brooks couldn’t be the same for you,” Lance reached a hand to place on Wes’ shoulder. “You deserved better. I mean look at you now,” Lance assured, “You went through hell and didn’t let it change the soft and caring nature of you. Takes a lot of strength to do that.”

“Cat tell you about that?”

“No. Some small details, but I put enough of it together,” he gave a small squeeze of Wes’ shoulder, “No matter what you did though, Wes, you’re someone to be proud of. Even if he couldn’t see it, there are people here and now that do.”

“Even if I gave up,” Wes asked, leaning back in the chair freeing himself of Lance’s grip.

Lance let out a breath, “If you feel that way then it means you need help,” he gave a series of small nods before continuing, “Got people here that are wanting to help you. No need to carry everyone’s expectations on your shoulders alone.”

“You one of those people?” Wes asked, looking up through his lashes to Lance. Those same eyes Lance saw all those years ago when all Wes wanted was his dad to tell him what a good job he was doing. The ones that pleaded for some kind of approval from a man that was never going to give it, eyes that Lance couldn’t do anything about because it wasn’t his business back then. What a mistake that was. The least Lance could have done back then was tell Wes himself he was doing a good job in what he was doing. Little things like that would have mattered the world to a young Wes and he didn’t do any of it.

That was then but this is now and Lance wasn’t ready to make the same mistake twice, “Yeah, kid, I’m one of those people,” he gave a small slap on Wes’ back, “I’ll always be one of those people for you.” He gave Wes a smile, “You want a hug, kid?” Wes looked up to him curious, Lance shrugging, “Sometimes it helps make people feel better. Don’t have to. Brooks never seemed like much of a hugger.”

“Not much of anything,” Wes scoffed.

Lance gave a quick raise of his eyebrows, “Fair. Probably learned it from his dad, cause my old man was the same way.”

“You don’t seem like them,” Wes noted, fingers pulling at the paper label.

“Didn’t want to be. Promised I’d be better,” Lance stared past the bottle in his hand, “Don’t have to repeat the same mistakes. Get to be your own person.”

“No one wants that,” Lance looked over to Wes, slumped in the seat defeated, “Just disappoints people.”

“Cat’s not disappointed, neither am I,” Lance finished off his beer placing the bottle on the table, “You’ve done so much for this place by just being you, I feel proud of ya. I think you could work on being a bit smarter,” Lance gave a small chuckle, “but still proud of you, kid.”

Wes picked at the edges of the wrap around his wrist, his eyes turned down to the ground, “Thanks,” he brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck, “For everything. Know you’re just doin’ it for her, taking care of me and all. I still appreciate it though.”

It really wasn’t just for Cat at this point, there was no doubting that now. Wes was still trouble but trouble that Lance couldn’t turn his back on, not again. Lance stood putting his hand out to Wes, “Come on, let’s get that ankle elevated. We can watch a movie before it’s off to bed for you.”

“I’m stayin’ the night,” Wes asked using Lance’s hand as leverage to pull himself up from the chair.

“Call it intuition,” Lance said, helping Wes into the house, “but how else am I going to know you’re going to take my instructions seriously.”

Wes gave a small eye roll, “Might be a fair assessment.” Lance sat Wes down on the couch, “What about tomorrow? Can I stay?”

“Why-?” Lance took a look at the small fear in Wes’ eyes, “Oh, right. Your better half.” Lance looked around the house, “Cat mentioned you didn’t like him chastising you.”

“So….,” Wes prompted.

“You can stay long as you need. I won’t be home though, gotta go back to work.” He gave a stern look to Wes pointing a finger at him, “So no wild parties boy,” Lance gave a small smile, Wes giving him a smirk. “Just don’t make a mess of the place and you can stay. Though I doubt Rafael can say anything to ya.”

Wes hummed, “Why you say that?”

“Cause you’re being responsible and you got me as your witness,” Lance responded, sliding the box of movies towards Wes, “Pick whatever you want, I’ll make us some popcorn.” Lance walked into the kitchen, getting the stove hot, “Oh should mention now, the second drawer on the dresser has clothes for you that you can use. Just place them in the hamper when you change.”

Wes turned looking at him an eyebrow raised, “How is there-,” he didn’t finish as he thought it over, “She really thinks of everything doesn’t she?”

“For you two? Always,” he placed some oil in the pot, “So if you could, Wes,” Lance met Wes’ eyes sternly, “think of her a bit in your actions. I know you’re friends but she cares deeply about you, she doesn’t ever want to lose you and I don’t want to see her hurt. You understand?” Wes’ eyes looked down solemnly before nodding, “Good. Now I just gotta tell Rafael that too.”

Wes smiled, rolling his eyes, “Good luck.”

“I can do it,” Lance focused back on the popcorn, “Just gotta find the right words cause his is gonna be worse. I gotta let him know how much he’ll hurt if he breaks her heart.”

“Don’t think he likes her like that,” Wes informed Lance, glancing back at the box of movies.

Lance gave a snort, “Yeah, right. Just you watch, those two will be inseparable soon enough.”

“Then there’ll be two of ‘em,” Wes breathed out in slight horror.

“Better prepare yourself, kid,” Lance turned the stove off before going to get their movie set up, “You got a big storm comin’ your way.” Lance looked over giving a laugh as he watched the words process in Wes’ head.

#lance powell oc #deputy hwes

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