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One.
“How was your walk?” Holly asked mildly when Wes and Travis skittered into the bar with two minutes to spare before midnight. She hid a smirk against the glass of chardonnay in her hand; it grew into a secretive smile when she took note of the way John’s brow crumpled in confusion.
“What are you implying?” he asked, apprehensive.
She raised her eyebrows pleasantly and fixed an expectant look on Travis. Rather than answer her unspoken question, Travis turned to Wes; these were his parents, after all.
John made an uncomfortable sound in his throat. “Never mind, whatever you’re all glancing at each other about, I don’t want to know.”
Wes flushed an alarming shade of red, all the way up to the roots of his hair. “ Dad ,” he hissed. “Shut up.” He paused to allow that statement the gravity he needed it to have, then continued carefully, “Travis... asked me to marry him. Mom’s being all... smug about it because he asked her for help with his plan.”
Holly’s face lit up in a bright smile. “I’m just so happy for you,” she gushed, grabbing his face in both of her hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead. She made a grabby motion at Travis until he leaned over and let her do the same to him, leaving them with matching smudges of her ubiquitous Diormania on their skin.
John spared a moment to convey his relief that nobody had gotten up to anything he didn’t want to know about on their walk, but the expression was quickly replaced once again by confusion.
“I thought... that you were going to ask Travis to marry you,” he said, slow and deliberate.
Holly’s jaw dropped. “Hang on, you knew that Wesley was planning to propose and you didn’t tell me?” she asked, incredulous and perhaps a little bit hurt.
“You knew that Travis was planning to propose and you didn’t tell me,” John replied sensibly.
“You asked your dad for help?” Travis laughed. “And then had the nerve to give me shit for asking your mom?”
“I didn’t ask my dad for help,” Wes grumbled. “I just told him that we would be staying in Dallas for the night, so they should either get a hotel here or go home without us, and then he wanted to know why.”
“That’s different,” Holly insisted, heedless of the conversation Wes and Travis were having parallel to hers. “You tell me everything! You can’t keep a secret to save your life.”
John laughed. “You’re right. I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret, so I told Gary.”
Travis whipped his head around at that. “Is that why he was being so fucking weird to me at your party last night?” he demanded.
“Travis,” Holly admonished gently, “mind your language, please, you’re in the presence of ladies.”
“Just the one,” Wes quickly corrected, tone sour and annoyed.
“I didn’t mean you,” Holly waved him off, sloshing a little wine over the edge of her glass and then glancing at it in surprise, as if she’d forgotten she was holding it.
“Okay, but John’s friend Gary asked me how we have sex,” Travis justified.
“He what?” John asked, blinking incredulously.
At that moment, they were all startled by the cheers that erupted through the bar, having completely missed the countdown to midnight. Holly made a vague disappointed noise, but John reached for her before it went anywhere, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her into a familiar kiss.
Travis glanced through his eyelashes at Wes, expectant and patient, and Wes looked around nervously at the other bar patrons but inched closer and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips nonetheless.
“Congratulations,” John said softly, after a moment. With one arm still around Holly’s shoulders, holding her close to his side, he laid a warm hand on top of Travis’ on the tabletop and squeezed it affectionately.
Travis couldn’t have been any happier if he’d tried.
Two.
“Hello?” Alex’s voice filled the car, tinny through the cell phone speaker.
“What are you doing?” Travis asked by way of greeting. He shifted the phone to his right hand so his left could rest on Wes’ knee; Wes was busy trying to find the on-ramp out of the hellishly-designed Nevada travel stop they were currently trying to escape, but he bounced his leg in acknowledgement of the attention.
Alex laughed. “I’m at my desk, we didn’t all take a month off for Christmas,” she teased affably.
“One week and two days,” Wes corrected, “and one of the reasons I agreed to do that is because you’re forever bitching at me that Travis and I work too much.”
“No,” Alex argued, “I was forever bitching at you that you worked too much when we were married. I don’t care what you and Travis do, it’s none of my concern.”
Wes opened his mouth to continue arguing, but quickly thought better of it and simply rolled his eyes. Travis smiled sympathetically; the post-divorce Wes-and-Alex dynamic was something he didn’t quite understand (not least of all because he had only the very vaguest grasp on Alex , and only considered himself a Wes-expert because he had memorized all the arbitrary bullshit rules, not because any of them made sense), but he did at least know what to expect.
“I had a reason for calling,” Travis hinted, moreso to remind her of his presence in the conversation than anything.
“I had hoped that was the case,” she said, accompanied by the sounds of her neatly-manicured nails clicking against her keyboard. “How was your visit?”
“Lovely,” Travis answered without hesitation, “it couldn’t have been better.”
“That’s nice.” Her tone was absent-minded as she split her focus between the phone and whatever she was working on. “Did you get anything good for Christmas?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, I got several really nice things, my favorite was an engagement ring.”
She hummed distractedly. “My favorite gift this year was a new blender from my mom,” she said, “I’m going to start making smoothies. Scott got me an absolutely beautiful watch, though.”
Travis blinked incredulously at the phone for a moment.
“Did you just hear him say the words engagement ring?” Wes asked, sounding about as bewildered as Travis felt.
The typing stopped. “ Did I just hear him say the words engagement ring?” she demanded, which was a far more appropriate reaction.
“You did!” Travis confirmed exuberantly. “Wes also got an engagement ring.”
Alex laughed, surprised. “Wow, were they on sale?” she joked.
Travis, who had pulled money from his savings to buy the elegant and understated eternity-diamond band his partner was currently fidgeting with his thumb, was grave-serious when he answered, “No, not at all.”
She laughed again, bright and exuberant. “Congratulations! I’m thrilled for you. I’ll keep an eye on the mail for our invitation.”
“Oh, there’s no need,” Wes assured her, relishing as he recalled not only the wringer she put him through for their wedding but the one for her wedding to Scott as well, “you’re going to help me address them, you can just take yours home with you.”
“Oh,” she said glumly. “Great, thank you.”
Three.
Travis slapped a stack of file folders down onto Captain Sutton’s desk and then flung himself dramatically into one of the chairs opposite him.
“What are these?” the captain asked sedately, not looking up from the book in his hand (a spy novel Travis mentally noted the title of, since Wes also liked those).
“The finalized notes from our last four closed cases.” At the theatrically exhausted tone in his voice, Captain Sutton did look up, arch one eyebrow over the tops of his reading glasses, and flick open the top of one of the files.
“Did you do all this paperwork?” he asked, impressed; usually Wes was the one who finalized their case notes and Travis simply signed them.
“Yeah, you might notice that I used a black pen, because Wes wouldn’t let me borrow any of his blue ones, he’s worried I’ll lose them,” Travis explained with obvious annoyance, “even though we live together and even if I tried to steal it he could just steal it back out of my pocket.”
Captain Sutton, who was well-aware of how many pens Travis lost in a month and therefore could say nothing condemning or condoning Wes’ pen-stinginess, only squinted at the nearly illegible chicken scratch on the page in front of him. “Why did you do the paperwork if you’re irritated with him?”
Travis sighed. “Engagement present,” he announced histrionically.
This garnered two raised eyebrows. “Engagement present for who?”
“For Wes,” Travis said as if it were obvious (and it sort of was). “I mean, I got him the ring and everything, but he got me one too so I felt like that canceled out, so I had to do something else.”
Captain Sutton blinked, befuddled. “Are you trying to one-up him through your engagement?”
Travis threw his hands up in the air. “He tried to one-up me first, he got a hotel room and everything!”
The eyebrows flattened into unimpressed disbelief. “Get out of my office.”
Travis sighed again, the drama of the action causing his chest to heave, and Captain Sutton stood to open the door for him. Travis thanked him as he slipped past, a small smile on his face.
“And congratulations on your engagement,” he called loudly into the ever-present din of the precinct. Travis’ small smile was replaced first with a grin, then with a look of rapidly growing alarm as everyone in the room turned to look first at him, then at Wes. The alarm evidently increased as Wes stood from his desk so fast his chair spun behind him, a murderous glare fixed plainly on his partner.
“That was not my fault,” Travis yelled. Whatever Wes’ reply to that may be, the captain did not hear it, closing the door to his office firmly behind him.
Four.
“Before we wrap up, did anyone have anything they were hoping we would discuss that wasn’t touched on?”
Doctor Ryan’s polite, interested gaze alighted on the inquisitive look Travis was currently giving Wes. “Gentlemen?”
Wes rolled his eyes more out of habit than any actual feeling, then grabbed Travis’ hand in his. “We’re getting married,” he announced with no preamble.
As it turned out, no preamble was required, and a wave of excited chatter rolled through their little room in the community center.
“What exciting news, congratulations,” Doctor Ryan said genuinely, “how are you both feeling about this new development? It’s a big step for your relationship.”
Travis made a face. “Good? I mean, we both asked each other on the same night, I think we’re pretty much on the same page.”
“Oh,” sighed Rozelle, “isn’t that the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard? You both asked each other?”
“It was just an announcement, we don’t need to be therapized about this,” Wes said awkwardly.
Doctor Ryan gave him a neutral smile. “My only objective in asking is to facilitate the two of you checking in with yourselves, I apologize if it came across as unsupportive.”
Wes nodded, mollified, and squeezed Travis’ hand reassuringly when he still seemed a little thrown off-balance.
“When’s the wedding?” Dakota asked, practically chittering.
That put Travis back on his feet, and he lit up with excitement as he said, “The third weekend in March.”
“So soon,” gasped Mrs. Dumont, looking between them in disbelief.
“It won’t take that long to plan the thing,” Travis explained, waving his hand casually. “Neither one of us wants to go too over-the-top.”
Wes’ nod of agreement turned to an irritated glare when Clyde murmured, nearly under his breath, “Are you guys sure you’re on the same page about what’s too over-the-top?”
“Planning a wedding is a big undertaking,” Doctor Ryan said, nodding, “but the group will be here to support you through the process.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Travis said brightly, “and you’re all, obviously, invited to the wedding.”
Wes stiffened and slowly raised his eyebrows in a way that indicated that they had not, in fact, discussed this, but before Doctor Ryan could put a pin in that to come back to later, they were all diverted by Mr. Dumont’s confused, not-quite-paying-attention, “I thought that they were already married.”
Five.
“Hi, Mom, it’s Travis, I have good news,” Travis chirped, lying upside down on the sofa with his legs thrown over the back. He tapped his socked toes against Wes’ jaw; Wes made a face, then pantomimed biting Travis’ foot.
“Hang on one second, honey,” came the warm voice on the other end of the phone - Patricia, Wes’ personal favorite of Travis’ foster mothers for no other reason than because she’d once confided in him that Travis was her favorite son. Travis had pointed out, reasonably, that she likely said that to all of her children’s partners, but Wes knew the truth, that it was impossible to spend any degree of time with Travis and not come away favoring him.
There was the sound of a tap turning off and the melodic clank of dishes in the sink, then Patricia was back. “Okay, I’m all ears,” she prompted eagerly.
“Wes and I are getting married!” Travis said for what felt like the hundredth time, repetition not dulling the effervescent sparkle in his chest every time he said those words.
She laughed, matching his exuberance. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day!” she teased. “When?”
“The third weekend in March,” Travis said, also by rote at this point, a little less enthusiastic for the minutiae of the affairs than he was for the words Wes and I are getting married.
“Well, I’ll be waiting for my invitation. Congratulations, honey,” she said.
Travis grinned. “Thanks, Mom.”
“When are you bringing him to see me?” Her tone was playfully accusatory.
“As soon as you’re free,” Travis assured her.
“How about Sunday?”
He pursed his lips. “We’ve got plans for Sunday, but we can do Monday or Tuesday,” he offered.
“Tuesday, then?” The tap was turned back on; Travis could picture her holding the phone against her ear with her shoulder, the cord stretched across the kitchen.
He smiled. “Tuesday after work is great.” He glanced at Wes, who scribbled the words Tuesday after work on the steno pad on his lap next to Patricia. He placed a neat little checkmark on the other side of Patricia’s name.
“Alright, honey, I’ll see you then,” she said.
“See you then, Mom, love you.”
“Love you too, Travis.”
He hung up the phone and dropped his head back against the sofa cushion. “Alright, how many more do we have?” he asked, watching the way Wes’ fingers drummed the pen in his hand against his thigh.
“Six,” Wes answered, pushing his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose and eyeing the steno pad. “Margie is next on the list, but you should call Joyce first if you want to catch her before she has to leave for work.”
Travis nodded his thanks and arched his back in a stretch, scrolling through his contact list and pressing the button to dial. It rang three times before someone picked up. “Hello?”
“Hi Mom, it’s Travis, I have good news.”
1
“You wouldn’t believe the rumor I heard this morning,” Jonelle said without greeting or preface, leaning her hip against Wes’ desk.
Wes looked up at her through his eyelashes, then quickly saved his document and turned off his computer. If Jonelle was upstairs, it must be something good; Jonelle virtually never came upstairs during the course of the work day.
“Hit me,” he said, trying to temper his excitement, because really, it was a little uncouth how eager he was to engage in workplace gossip; he comforted himself with the fact that it was only ever with her, but still best not to appear too excited.
“Apparently, everyone’s going around saying that you and Travis are getting married,” she said with a short little laugh. When that was met only with guilty silence, she veered abruptly into disbelief. “Jesus. Do you know that that’s permanent?”
“Wes is divorced, actually, so he knows no such thing,” Travis mumbled around a mouthful of mini powdered donuts. Wes glared balefully and slid a napkin across their desks to him.
“Yes, thank you both,” he said archly. “Respectfully, Jonelle, I didn’t put it up for a vote.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know I’m all in favor of whatever makes you happy,” she said with a wry smile that broadened into something devious when she added, “And you know that I know how to dispose of a body, should you ever require some discreet assistance.”
Wes’ answering smile was sharp. “You’re a good friend, but I’m not planning on killing him. Right now.” He shifted his gaze pointedly to Travis, who rolled his eyes and picked up the napkin to wipe the powdered sugar off his face.
Jonelle watched him with a grim expression. “You have my condolences for your decision to spend the rest of your life with that,” she said dolefully.
Wes shrugged, helpless. “Well, what else was I meant to do?” he asked. “It’s Travis.”
She cocked her head, conceding his point. “Fair enough.”