justified fic - aftermath - raylan&boyd
Title: aftermath
Author: unholygrace
Series: Justified.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Raylan Givens, Boyd Crowder - others.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: The investigation afterward is a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
Notes/Warning: Post season finale (read: spoilers!), language. ♥ It's almost six am, you have been warned! (This plotbunny would not leave my mind. Apologies for shitty text speak, I type things out in my texts!)
-
The investigation afterward is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Art's batshit for at least twenty minutes, hollering at Raylan in his office at the top of his lungs. The door is shut, but means little. At least with the blinds down, no one can see him sink lower and lower into his chair as his boss tears him a new one.
Finally, red faced and gasping for air, Art calms down enough to point at Raylan and say, “you're an idiot, Raylan.”
“I know,” Raylan mutters, tugging the brim of his hat down lower over his eyes.
“I'm serious, Raylan.”
“I know,” he repeats.
Art sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh for fucks sake, get out of my office. Go sleep or something.”
Not waiting around for Art to change his mind, he stands, nods, and, well, leaves the office like the hounds of Hell were on his heels. He passes Tim and Rachel, both who shoot him bemused smirks.
A while later, in his hotel room, he showers and dresses in loose clothing. Raylan sits on his bed and falls back, looking up at the ceiling. He frowns a little and thinks, abruptly, my father was going to sell me to the cartels. Huh.
It shouldn't surprise him as much as it does. Arlo always looked out for number one, damn his wife - wives, he amends, thinking of aunt Helen - and his only child. As long as Arlo was set, everyone else can fuck off.
“Son of a bitch,” Raylan murmurs aloud and rolls onto his side. Moments later, his phone vibrates across the night stand beside the bed. With a grunt, he crawls across the bed, sweeping the phone up. He lies back against the pillows and opens the phone. Three new text messages.
One from Winona. He grimaces and is tempted to delete it, but decides to leave it unread at the last second. The second one is from Ava, who tells him that she's leaving Harlan. Not for good, she adds. Visiting a friend in Ashland.
He shrugs. It's good enough, for now. Bo's dead, Johnny's dead, and for the second time that day he thinks Boyd's legit in his “conversion” shit. The Crowders are - at the moment - a non-issue. The cartel, however, well... That's for another day.
The third message is from a number not programed into his phone. He frowns at it for a moment - the area code is for Harlan. After a moment, Raylan opens it up.
never realized how big kt is when ur driving thru it, it says.
Raylan squints at it and, on a whim, texts back. probably gonna sound dumb, but whos this?? He hits send.
A reply comes back around a minute and a half later. its boyd. new phone
Raylan tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “Who the hell gave him my number?” He wonders. Deciding to roll with it, he programs the number in and texts back. right. where are you?
The reply comes quicker this time. somewhere in va. i think
find the cartel woman yet?
no.
what are you gonna do if you find her?
i dont know. As Raylan moves to reply, another text comes in. think im gonna drive around for a while. soul search. mourn for my daddy.
Raylan almost tells him that he shouldn't be mourning for his father, considering he was going to kill his father, but decides against it and instead texts hows your shoulder?
Boyd takes his time in replying, but after a moment, the tell-tale buzz of his cell phone announces his reply. hurts like sin raylan what do u think?
Smirking, Raylan sits up, crossing his legs at his ankles as he gets comfortable. find a doctor. dont want you dying yet
if the good lord wants me to die of this injury then I shall die of it but I will find one in the mean time if it makes u feel better. Raylan swallows his annoyance at the statement. Boyd's preaching will probably always piss him off, just a little.
Raylan hesitates before replying. Slowly, he thumbs out im sorry about your father.
It takes a long minute before Boyd replies. sorry about urs
“Yeah,” Raylan sighs, “I'm too tired to deal with this shit.”
i need some sleep boyd. get some yourself. stay outta trouble please. ttyl, he texts to him.
goodnite raylan, Boyd replies and Raylan shuts his phone, setting it down on the night stand.
He crawls underneath the sheets and shuts his eyes. Today was a long fucking day, but it's finally over, he thinks as he slips off to sleep.
Author: unholygrace
Series: Justified.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Raylan Givens, Boyd Crowder - others.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: The investigation afterward is a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
Notes/Warning: Post season finale (read: spoilers!), language. ♥ It's almost six am, you have been warned! (This plotbunny would not leave my mind. Apologies for shitty text speak, I type things out in my texts!)
-
The investigation afterward is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Art's batshit for at least twenty minutes, hollering at Raylan in his office at the top of his lungs. The door is shut, but means little. At least with the blinds down, no one can see him sink lower and lower into his chair as his boss tears him a new one.
Finally, red faced and gasping for air, Art calms down enough to point at Raylan and say, “you're an idiot, Raylan.”
“I know,” Raylan mutters, tugging the brim of his hat down lower over his eyes.
“I'm serious, Raylan.”
“I know,” he repeats.
Art sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh for fucks sake, get out of my office. Go sleep or something.”
Not waiting around for Art to change his mind, he stands, nods, and, well, leaves the office like the hounds of Hell were on his heels. He passes Tim and Rachel, both who shoot him bemused smirks.
A while later, in his hotel room, he showers and dresses in loose clothing. Raylan sits on his bed and falls back, looking up at the ceiling. He frowns a little and thinks, abruptly, my father was going to sell me to the cartels. Huh.
It shouldn't surprise him as much as it does. Arlo always looked out for number one, damn his wife - wives, he amends, thinking of aunt Helen - and his only child. As long as Arlo was set, everyone else can fuck off.
“Son of a bitch,” Raylan murmurs aloud and rolls onto his side. Moments later, his phone vibrates across the night stand beside the bed. With a grunt, he crawls across the bed, sweeping the phone up. He lies back against the pillows and opens the phone. Three new text messages.
One from Winona. He grimaces and is tempted to delete it, but decides to leave it unread at the last second. The second one is from Ava, who tells him that she's leaving Harlan. Not for good, she adds. Visiting a friend in Ashland.
He shrugs. It's good enough, for now. Bo's dead, Johnny's dead, and for the second time that day he thinks Boyd's legit in his “conversion” shit. The Crowders are - at the moment - a non-issue. The cartel, however, well... That's for another day.
The third message is from a number not programed into his phone. He frowns at it for a moment - the area code is for Harlan. After a moment, Raylan opens it up.
never realized how big kt is when ur driving thru it, it says.
Raylan squints at it and, on a whim, texts back. probably gonna sound dumb, but whos this?? He hits send.
A reply comes back around a minute and a half later. its boyd. new phone
Raylan tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “Who the hell gave him my number?” He wonders. Deciding to roll with it, he programs the number in and texts back. right. where are you?
The reply comes quicker this time. somewhere in va. i think
find the cartel woman yet?
no.
what are you gonna do if you find her?
i dont know. As Raylan moves to reply, another text comes in. think im gonna drive around for a while. soul search. mourn for my daddy.
Raylan almost tells him that he shouldn't be mourning for his father, considering he was going to kill his father, but decides against it and instead texts hows your shoulder?
Boyd takes his time in replying, but after a moment, the tell-tale buzz of his cell phone announces his reply. hurts like sin raylan what do u think?
Smirking, Raylan sits up, crossing his legs at his ankles as he gets comfortable. find a doctor. dont want you dying yet
if the good lord wants me to die of this injury then I shall die of it but I will find one in the mean time if it makes u feel better. Raylan swallows his annoyance at the statement. Boyd's preaching will probably always piss him off, just a little.
Raylan hesitates before replying. Slowly, he thumbs out im sorry about your father.
It takes a long minute before Boyd replies. sorry about urs
“Yeah,” Raylan sighs, “I'm too tired to deal with this shit.”
i need some sleep boyd. get some yourself. stay outta trouble please. ttyl, he texts to him.
goodnite raylan, Boyd replies and Raylan shuts his phone, setting it down on the night stand.
He crawls underneath the sheets and shuts his eyes. Today was a long fucking day, but it's finally over, he thinks as he slips off to sleep.