Who: Wash and Leon What: Leon arrests Wash for public drunkeness When: Around Feb. 3rd Where: Outstside local bar Rating/Warnings Medium for drunk angst Status: Complete!
“We have a 10-26 at Jamboree and Main Street,” the woman’s voice crackled over the car radio. Leon, from the passenger seat, reached for the radio.
“Oh, come on,” Max said from beside him. “Our shift’s almost done and I don’t want to get stuck at work late because of some unruly drunk and paperwork. Let one of the uniforms take care of it.”
And they could. They were detectives, working a case, and they didn’t need t respond to every drunk that they got a call about on the radio. But they had worked all day on their case, and hadn’t turned up much. Leon kind of missed having Liv with him. Sure, she wasn’t always helpful, but every now and then a fucking tree or a street sign would set off one of her zombie-induced visions, and that was sure better than poking around hoping that someone had seen something. But the Captain had made it very clear that he wouldn’t be nearly as forgiving if Leon led a civilian into a firefight again, and Leon wasn’t going to test him.
So he was bored and frustrated, and getting to throw some drunk behind bars would really make his day a little brighter. Besides, “It’s only a couple of blocks away. You can just sit in the car and I’ll take care of it.”
Max glanced at Leon from the corner of his eye, and then gave a heavy sigh. “You really need to get a girlfriend man. Or at least let the rest of us go home to ours on time,” he said, turning toward the intersection that the dispatcher had called.
“Ha, you can’t call her your girlfriend now that you’ve tied the knot,” Leon grinned, grabbing the radio from the dashboard to answer the call.
Of course, when the pulled up, Leon couldn’t help but grin when he saw a familiar figure. The bruise that Wash had left him hadn’t disappeared very long ago, and the thought of it still pissed Leon off. But now here Wash was, like he had fallen right into Leon’s waiting handcuffs.
“Jackpot,” Leon sang, hopping out of the car and missing Max’s bewildered look. Behind him, Max got out of the car just in case Leon needed him, but until then he’d light a cigarette.
“Well, what do we have here,” Leon said, approaching the drunk man. “Good to see you again, Barrow.”
At least Leon hadn’t called him “Dave” again. And this time Wash really was high as a kite. Or, more accurately, drunk off his ass. He was dressed exactly the same as Leon had seen him before: jeans and a sweatshirt. No shoes. His feet hurt from walking.
He was dirtier than he had been when Leon had seen him last and he was favoring his right side, as though sporting an injury from some kind of fight. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days, and maybe had been spending his nights huddled somewhere rather than in a warm bed. At the moment he was leaning against the wall of the bar he’d just been tossed out of, having spent the remainder of whatever cash he’d had in his wallet and considering ways to get more to keep the numb from fading away.
Even drunk, Wash had decent situational awareness. He’d seen the car pull up near him and he hadn’t liked it. He liked it even less when he saw Detective Leon Orcott climb out of the passenger seat. Well, it was too late to run now, not that Wash would have been able to get far given his current condition.
“Hi, Leon,” Wash mumbled. He tried to push away from the wall, but stumbled over his own bare feet. He managed to catch himself before falling, but swayed dangerously one way and then the other. “Nice t’see you again. Uh…” he peered at Leon carefully, bloodshot grey eyes squinting as if attempting to get the man in front of him into focus, “sorry ‘bout…y’know…punching you last time.”
While Leon probably wouldn’t have minded brawling with Wash right now, provoking a fight with someone who was nearly too drunk to stand while Leon was still sober was below even Leon, and so he held off on calling him the name that he knew Wash obviously hated.
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” Leon said, grinning. “Though if you’d like to punch me again this time, feel free. I’d love to get you for assaulting an officer along with that drunk and disorderly you’re about to get.”
“Am I bein’ disorderly?” Wash asked. The swaying on his feet had stopped for the moment, but he was still staring at Leon blearily. The question wasn’t asked as a way to be flippant or rude, but was an honest question, as if Wash himself had no idea he was nearly as drunk as he was. He blinked a couple of times as though trying to recall something. “I got kicked out of the bar…” he made a vague gesture towards the bar nearby. “Didja know you can get kicked out of a bar for bein’ drunk, Leon? I didn’t.”
The movement of his hand made him sway again and he had to reach out to steady himself. “I don’t wanna punch ya,” he mumbled, a hint of shame coming through the drunken slur when he added, “I didn’t wanna punch ya the last time, but...I panicked. I was stupid. Ya gonna arrest me? You prolly should. I’m pretty useless right now. Pretty useless alla time, ‘cha know? The ol’ man got that right, at least. Can’t even ‘elp my friends when they need me. Oooh no. Genius me ‘ad t’ go an’ fuck it aaaaaalll up.”
He was quiet a moment, looking at Leon. “I’m really good at that,” he went on. “Fuckin’ things up. ‘S why I’m notta marine anymore. Went an’ got myself blown up!” He threw up both of his arms as if to simulate an explosion, which quickly turned out to be a bad idea as Wash swayed again, dangerously close to falling straight on his ass. Somehow, though, he managed to keep himself upright. “Carolina says it wasn’t muh fault, but we both know better. Like. Who the hell gets hurt durin’ a training exercise? Huh?! Only a fuckin’ idiot. Which, ya know, I am. An’ now. Now. Katou needed me, ya know. He was countin’ on me. I was s’pposed t’ make the plans. Come up with the strategy. Keep’im focused. Help! He needed me, Leon, an’ what do I do? Psh. Get my brain fuckin’ scrambled by a fuckin’ video game! The fuck is wrong with me?!”
Wash’s voice, though clearly drunk, dripped with his own self-loathing, which really only came to the surface when alcohol had broken down the barriers he had put in place to keep everything buried and hidden away. It was toxic and tasted like bile in his mouth. He’d been gesturing wildly as he spoke which had caused him to sway and stumble and fight to stay upright, but now that he was finished, his arms dropped to his sides. He stared at Leon, not really expecting a response other than to be read his rights. “Yer gonna arrest me, right?” He asked after another moment. “‘Cause, if not...I think….I think I’m gonna sit down. Right here.” Yes, in the middle of the sidewalk seemed like a good place for a sit.
Leon’s wolvish grin began to fade as Wash’s self-loathing tirade continued without stopping. No. This was supposed to be fun. Leon was supposed to say a couple of witty quips, slap a pair of cuffs on Wash, and drive him to the precinct, singing all the while. But this wasn’t fun. This was just pathetic.
“Yeah, I knew you could get kicked out of a bar for being too drunk.” Leon had ended up on that side of the bar door more than a couple of times himself. “And yeah, I’m going to arrest you,” Leon grumbled, grabbing on to Wash’s upper arm to stop him from planting his ass right on the fucking sidewalk. “Come on, hands out front. Let’s make this painless, Barrow.”
Wash let Leon grab him by the arm. He stumbled a little, but somehow again remained on his feet. He peered at Leon for a moment before offering his hands, palms up. He was much more co-opertive now than he had been the last time he and Leon had crossed paths, though with the amount of alcohol in his system, even if he wanted to be combative it wouldn’t have worked in his favor.
Leon let go of Wash so he could slap the cuffs on. When he’d first seen Wash there, he’d had the idea to make them just a little too tight, but, well, he felt a little bad for the guy so he put them on a little looser than he might normally have done. Then he grabbed the back of Wash’s shirt and gently guided him toward the car.
He sighed, not quite able to believe the words that were about to come out of his mouth. After all, he slept with a bottle of whiskey on the windowsill next to his bed just so he could go to sleep at night. But, well, at least he wasn’t like this. “You know man,” he said, not unkindly. “If you fucked up as much as you say you did, maybe you should think about cutting back a little.”
“What’s the point?” Wash asked as Leon guided him towards the car. He noted that Leon’s partner was still there. He’d somewhat made note of the other man when Leon had initially gotten out of the car, but hadn’t really paid the other man much attention. He barely glanced at the other guy now as they passed him. This probably wasn’t the way he had wanted to spend his evening, taking care of some drunk S.O.B. Wasn’t that the job for a uniformed officer anyway? “Sorry ‘bout this,” Wash mumbled. “This shouldn’t be your job.”
“Got me there. You’re gonna have to figure that one out on your own,” Leon said. Looking for life’s answers had never been high on his priority list, and looking for them for someone else was pretty close to the bottom. And it wasn’t much like Leon could talk. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten drunk enough to be tossed out of bars before, but seeing as he got drunk mostly at McNally’s, the bar where all the cops hung out, he was usually allowed to sleep it off in a booth in the back instead of being tossed on the street. Not that he’d really had too many nights like that since Chris had come to live with him.
“Well it is,” Leon said, pushing down Wash’s head gently, both to force him into the car and to make sure he didn’t crack his skull on the doorframe. Buddy seemed like he was too far gone to have much spatial awareness.
“That worth it?” Max asked blandly, paying about as much attention to Wash as Wash paid him.