Conversations in Solitaire: Buck
by Kat Morgan
Universe: {Universe}
Disclaimer: Any thoughts I ever entertained of owning the boys were immediately killed by the realization that I could never afford to feed, clothe, and bandage all seven of them. Plus, where would I keep them? And then there's the cost of repairing the bullet holes in the walls... ... I'll settle for taking them out to play once in a while.




"You're too young to settle down anyway," I told JD by way of 'hello' once I'd gotten tired of watching JD toast his misery alone.

"Shut-up, Buck," JD shot back without bothering to turn and face me or even to hide the hurt in his voice. "She was the best thing in my life."

"If she was the best thing," I counter, fully aware of the treacherous ground I'm treading on, "what are you doing here? Sounds to me like she gave you a choice and you made it."

"Didn't think she'd go," he slurred, taking another hit from his pint. The collection of shot glasses in front of him was getting impressive, and I'd lost count of the beer chasers he'd downed.

"Yes, you did," I told him, pulling out the all-knowing big brother tone I keep for situations like this. "You knew and you wanted her to be the one to push you away. Won't work, kid."

"I love her," he insisted loudly, knocking over one of the shot glasses and garnering us several curious looks.

I lowered my voice, trying to spare the kid some embarrassment "I know you did, probably still do. But have you taken a minute to decide if it's Casey you're in love with, or just the habit of being in love with her. There's a difference, you know."

If the kid made a response to that, I didn't hear him. I was too busy catching hell by way of a meaningful obsidian glare. It's a look that says, 'Senor Buck, if you do not get your partner home and sobered up, not only will you never have a chance with me, but you'll also have the same luck getting service here.' Inez has always been able to say a mouthful without saying a word.

"C'mon, kid," I tell JD, hauling the kid away from his intense interest in the shot glasses he's responsible for. "Let's get you home," I said, looping JD's arm around my shoulder for him.

"'m not a kid," he insisted, sounding for all the world like a petulant first-grader. "'m twenny-six yearsh ol'. Can take care of m'self."

"Sure you can," I agreed brightly, hoisting him to his feet all the while he was proclaiming his autonomy. I dug a twenty out of my pocket as we shuffled past the bar and tossed it onto the darkly polished wood for Inez. JD would have to come back and settle his tab, but that should cover the cost of watching the kid's bike overnight; plus a silent thank you for giving me the heads-up. She wouldn't have charged anything for either service, but I like to stay in the clear with Inez. It shows her how responsible I can be.

Getting the kid into the truck was a real treat. In the parking lot he realized that I was ignoring his speech and carting him off like the child he vemonently denied being.

"Leggo, Buck," he said, putting a 'ch' at the end of my name. "Wan. . .wan 't stay."

Ignoring him had worked thusfar, so I kept with the tried and true. He didn't make it easy for me though. You wouldn't think such a small guy could put up much of a fight; particularly not when he's had enough alcohol to put a big guy under the table. However, JD is full of surprises.

It took every ounce of charm and flat-out brute strength I possess to get him safely buckled into the passenger seat of my truck. I tore out of the parking lot before he had a chance to change his mind about cooperating.

I have to hand it to JD; drunk or sober, nobody can talk like he can. If I hadn't already known his lifestory, I would have by the time I pulled into my parking space in front of the apartment building. Though the version I'd heard the first time around was a damned sight less depressing.

I turned the key off and let the engine rumble to silence. Guess I was waiting for the kid to say something first -- wasn't in any hurry to crowd him. May have been a few years since I last had to tuck in a drunk, but I still remember the wallop Chris packed when he was feeling ornery.

JD's no lightweight either. I was more than content to wait for a moment of reason from the kid.

What I got was a soft snore and the peculiar sound of a leather jacket sliding along a woven seatcover.

Like I said; a moment of reason.

The crack about JD being a lightweight came back to haunt me as I pulled him out of passenger door. I'm too damned old for this sort of thing.

The stairs alone were gonna cost me two aspirin in the morning. The kid came out of it just long enough to hinder matters completely.

That's gratitude for you. Guy lets you bust your butt to haul his sopping carcass up two flights of stairs like some swaybacked pack mule. And no sooner do you finally teeter your way up onto the landing, does he remember that he has legs that work.

Which they don't.

I added another aspirin to my breakfast plate.

Straightening the kid out again took some doing, but I finally got him into the apartment.

Back when JD lived here, getting the kid to bed after injury or occasional night out was no trouble. When he moved in with Casey he talked me into converting his old room into an office and buying a computer. I'm now the proud owner of a cluttered delux-sized closet and hopelessly outdated Solitary card game. Neither of which was any help at the moment.

When faced with a choice between the bed upstairs and the couch; or rather a choice between hauling his uncooperative husk up another flight of stairs only to usher him back down when the drink eventually soured his stomach, and the ease of the sofa less then ten feet from the bathroom door. . . .

Speaking as someone who's spent a few nights on that couch. . . Well, with the hangover the kid's gonna have, he'll never notice an extra misery.

I deposited him on the worn blue cushions and quickly worked his shoes off. There wasn't a blanket handy, but it was a warm night. Besides, the less he had to trip over -- the better.

Stretching the forming kinks out of my neck, I made toward the staircase and my waiting bed. Halfway there, I stopped. Who was I kidding? I knew I'd end up spending the night in the Laz-E Boy. Might as well save a couple hours tossing and turning before I admitted it. With a yawn and a 'goodnight' that got lost halfway to my mouth, I flipped off the lamp and drew the shades against the red-tinged gray on the eastern horizon.

 





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