Who: Bailey and Dean When: night, Friday, June 22 Where: The pier and beyond Status: Complete
Dean had mostly forgotten how much fun the Point Pleasant Marina could be. Granted, it was a different kind of fun than what he found in bigger cities, but it was still a good time nonetheless. He’d gotten kind of restless at home that evening, so he’d decided to go out and have a good time amongst the people he hadn’t truly been around in years. The music was decent, the snacks were just as tasty as he remembered, and the beer was cheap and free-flowing. He spent a while getting pleasantly drunk and catching up with a couple of guys he’d gone to school with who’d never made it out of town. The weather kept threatening a storm, but Dean wasn’t going back to Grady’s until he felt actual raindrops.
As it turned out, he should’ve called it quits sooner. Dean wasn’t quite sure how the confrontation really started -- his world was fairly spinny and blurry by then -- but someone from his past took offense to him being back in town. He wasn’t generally much of a fighter, but a man had to defend himself, didn’t he? Especially when being violently accused of owing someone money from years back. Dean didn’t know who threw the first punch, but once it was on, it was on, and suddenly there were four or five guys brawling around him to boot.
As much as Bailey hated the wintertime in Point Pleasant, she did miss it on nights like these. It was getting warmer, there was a lot more to do and people tended to act like complete morons on the weekends, especially when liquor was readily available. Tonight was no different, unfortunately. Bailey was patrolling the pier, occasionally glancing up to check the skies when she heard thunder rumbling in the distance. No one seemed terribly concerned about potential rain. Bailey herself was enjoying the warm breeze that occasionally sent the salty ocean air dancing through her hair. Not to mention that it was a hell of a lot nicer to walk the pier than to be sitting in her patrol car.
She was just considering taking a quick break to smoke a cigarette when she saw what was happening down the pier. Five, maybe six men fighting. Some people had already pulled out their phones to record it, forming a circle around them.
"Hey!" Bailey started forward quickly, hand moving instinctively to her gun, though she had no intention of pulling it out. Most of the time when idiots were fighting in public, they took one look at her badge and ran off. This time was no different. One spotted her before she reached the group and turned to stumble through the crowd and run. She recognized another before his eyes widened and he took off. Henry Bell. Dumbass extraordinaire. One of the men she didn't recognize was taking another swing and Bailey reached out to grip the back of his shirt, yanking him back before he could follow through. "Knock it off," she yelled. Shouting at the others to stop didn't do much but send everyone else scurrying off but she had no backup and obviously she couldn't go after everyone so Bailey focused on the man that hadn't run, whose shirt was still in her fist.
"Well," Bailey said breathlessly, yanking the man's arm behind him as she reached for her handcuffs. "It's your lucky night, I guess."
Dean had taken a couple of punches to the head, on top of being fairly drunk, so he didn’t even realize some authority figure had arrived. His balance was also all off, so the yank from behind made him stumble backward awkwardly. He probably would’ve hit the ground if Bailey hadn’t been there behind him. “Aw shit,” Dean muttered, only resisting the strong pull on his arm for a second. It wasn’t another guy trying to fight him, it was a cop. Dean was unfortunately familiar with what it felt like to be handcuffed, and that was definitely what was happening. “It wasn’ me, officer, I was just defendin’ myself! C’mon.”
Bailey had heard that excuse before. Many, many times. It was as frequent as those aren't mine! and I didn't see the light turn red... Now that the fight had dissipated and the guy in front of her was cuffed, most of the crowd had wandered off, along with their phones. There would be people watching until she started to lead the guy to her patrol car, but that didn't bother Bailey much. It wasn't like there was a lot of non-terror related excitement in Point Pleasant. Bailey took the guy's arm to lead him down the boardwalk to where she had parked.
"When I was a kid and my brother hit me, I'd always hit him back. Always. When my mom yelled at both of us, I'd say the same thing to her. He hit me first, right? So I should be allowed to defend myself. Then she would point out that if he hit me first, I should've told her instead of retaliating, but because I let my temper get the better of me, I was now in as much trouble as he was. Do you get what I'm saying?" That wasn't all necessarily true. Kane had very rarely ever laid a hand on her beyond some annoying big brother pokes and prods, but she felt like the anecdote was sound, especially for a guy who was clearly drunk, or at least had been drinking.
Dean’s steps weren’t exactly steady, especially with his arms behind his back, but he tried not to veer into the cop too much as she escorted him away. He would be more embarrassed later, he was sure, when he sobered up some and found that he’d ended up on the internet. Grady was going to be pissed. “Dunno if you can tell, but m’not a fuckin’ kid,” he grumbled. “And you’re not my mama. M’not gonna just let my ass get kicked and go whining to the cops, that’s terrible advice.” In the circles Dean floated through, that was a sure way to at least end up in the hospital in retaliation for being a snitch, if not dead in a dumpster. He was a grown man and if somebody swung on him, he was going to swing back. Enough guys fucked with him just for being handsome and funny and smiling a lot, if he just took every beating lying down, there was no way he’d survive long.
She had dealt with enough drunk assholes to know how to lead him without stumbling herself. She had been a drunk asshole herself from time to time too so she knew how to stay steady on her feet. Bailey chuckled at his grumbling. "Yeah, you're not a kid. You're a grown ass man fighting like one on a crowded pier." She knew plenty of adults weren't likely to run to the cops if someone took a swing. Hell, Bailey was a cop and even she wouldn't turn to law enforcement if she got into a fight... off duty, that was. Maybe if they hadn't been fighting in a crowd, she would have just let them have at it. "I get it though. My mom was really shitty at giving advice. Thankfully you don't look like you need any medical attention, though you may not be able to see out of that left eye in the morning. What did you do to piss them off?"
It wasn’t terribly fair to be called a kid when he wasn’t the one who’d started it, but insisting that was the truth would only make him sound more pathetic, so Dean bit the inside of his cheek and tried to let his anger settle. His cheeks and neck felt flushed and his knuckles and face hurt and he just wanted to sit down and catch his breath. She was only doing her job, whoever she was. Dean hadn’t even been able to get a good look at her face yet. “Old grudges,” he muttered. “I didn’t do shit tonight but show up.” He twisted a bit to try and look behind him to see if any of his friends were following, but it looked like everybody had scattered to the winds.
“Old grudges,” Bailey said thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Mind your step.” She led him off the curb and into the small lot where she had parked earlier. Bailey didn’t recognize him but she also hadn’t gotten a great look at his face given she’d come up behind him while he was fighting. Even so, she didn’t recognize him from what she had seen. That didn’t mean much. People from this town came and went and came back again all the time. They could have graduated together and she likely wouldn’t remember him. Tugging open the back door of the patrol car, Bailey nudged him towards it. “Do you want to tell me who was with you? Or who started it?” Bailey had a feeling he’d keep his mouth shut about that, but hell, maybe he would surprise her. If the fists to the face were unwarranted, why not give Bailey the names of the other men involved? “I already know Henry Bell was one of them. If you want to help me round the rest up, I can get someone to verify you weren’t the one who started it.”
Something in Dean started to panic when that back door opened, and he leaned back away from it, trying to turn his body to face her as a nervous sort of laugh escaped him. He’d been arrested before, more times than he cared to admit, and he hated the back of the patrol car. Dean hated it even more than sitting in the holding cell with other criminals. It was some old psychological holdover from the few times his dad had put him in the back and lectured him about that being his future if he didn’t get his shit together. “C’mon, look -- is this really necessary?” he asked the lady officer, trying to dredge up a charming smile that probably looked stupid with his swelling face. “Nobody got hurt, I didn’t run, m’not even that drunk ... you really gotta take me in? A black eye’s not enough punishment? Officer ... what’s your name again?” Dean squinted at her a bit, trying to make his eyes focus on the name on her uniform.
Bailey's hand tightened on his arm and she half-expected him to try and run. Instead he shifted to trying to talk his way out of being arrested, which was nothing new to Bailey. She was unimpressed with the smile, though she imagined it probably didn't feel great for him, given the bruising that was starting to show on his face. "It's Jansen," Bailey said, mildly annoyed now. "It doesn't matter that no one got hurt, although given the state of your face, I'd say that's not necessarily true. Did you know disorderly conduct is a misdemeanor? Can you get inside the car, please?" Bailey knew she probably didn't need to arrest him. It wasn't the first time she had broken up a fight and just sent people on their way. But now she was feeling a little irritated, and that likely had more to do with wanting a cigarette, or a drink, on top of his attempted persuasions.
Dean could tell he was aggravating her, which probably wasn’t smart, but he really wasn’t trying to. He just really didn’t want to get in the patrol car, at least not in the back. Dean didn’t move to get in, butting his shoulder a bit against the door frame so it would be more challenging for her to push him into it. “Officer Jansen, ma’am, listen, I mean ... did I defend myself? Yeah. But I got jumped by this guy and his buddies, you know? M’not a snitch, to answer your earlier question, but ... can I jus’ ... can you leave the door open while you run my shit? I get claustrophobic in cop cars. Please?” Dean knew he was rambling, which made him sound even more like a drunk idiot, but he couldn’t help it. “You got me cuffed, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He knew some people would try to run with their hands behind their backs, but Dean’s situation wasn’t that desperate. He didn’t want to play the “my brother’s the sheriff” card, but he could feel it there in his brain, ready if he needed it.
God, she really hated being called ma'am. It happened a lot, being a police officer and a woman, but it always made her feel uncomfortable. She was thirty eight years old, but ma'am made her feel old as shit. Maybe she should just let him go. Wander back off into the crowd to find whatever friends had ditched him when Bailey had shown up. Arching a brow, Bailey stared intently at him before she let go of his arm. "Fine. Sit down. I'll leave the door open for now." If he tried to run Bailey didn't think he would get very far before she caught him, but she could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't going anywhere. Opening the door to the driver's side seat, Bailey sat down and grabbed her tablet to start filling out her report. "What's your full name?"
Relieved, Dean sat down on the back seat of the patrol car. He left one leg hanging out the door, shoulder leaned against the frame so he could get as much fresh air as possible while he answered her questions. The first one was standard and expected, but Dean still got a pop of amusement as he wet his lips and answered. Would she recognize the last name and ask about it? “Dean Thomas Barrett,” he told her. “Birthdate ten-thirteen-seventy-seven.” He was too old to be getting into this sort of trouble, but he hadn’t started it, so he couldn’t feel too guilty. Dean knew that Jansen wouldn’t find any open warrants on him in the state of Maine -- or any federal, for that matter -- but his record of arrests did start in his home state, they were just from years ago.
It did take Bailey a few moments after plugging in his information for his last name to trigger in her mind. Barrett. She was used to calling Grady "Sheriff", more than anything else, but obviously, she was capable of putting two and two together. Even as Dean's information loaded, Bailey shifted around in the seat to look at him through the barrier separating them. Despite his blackening eye and some of the bruises, she could suddenly see some of the resemblances. They even had the same goddamn facial hair. "Barrett," she repeated. "You know the Sheriff?" Bailey was pretty confident that she already knew the answer and it occurred to her that he probably could have tossed that relation out earlier to try and twist his way out of getting arrested. He hadn't though, so Bailey supposed there was a slim chance that there was no relation.
There it was. Dean gave her a crooked sort of smile. “Yeah ... he’s my brother,” he said, the first word drawn out slow. He couldn’t tell yet if that information would make Officer Jansen change her mind about arresting him. He knew that Grady was probably one of those maddeningly ethical bosses, not one to cave to nepotism bullshit. If Jansen called him, he would probably tell her to arrest Dean even harder for embarrassing him. But maybe she would let him go to avoid even having the conversation with the Sheriff. Dean could hope. “M’staying with him right now too, if you uh ... need an address,” he added in a mutter. Dean almost asked if she could find it in her heart just to take him to Grady’s and drop him off, because god knew the earful he would get from his big brother would be enough punishment, but he was pretty sure she would have no sympathy for him.
Bailey had been working with Grady long enough to know that if she called him right now, he would probably instruct her to bring his brother to the station and book him. Grady had never come across as someone who would let family skirt around the law... unlike Bailey, apparently. She could only imagine what Grady would say about Dean getting arrested. And what other people in town would say. The Sheriff's brother getting charged with disorderly conduct. If she thought Grady was a fuck up who couldn't do his job, she might have found some pleasure in that. Instead, Bailey looked back down at the tablet in her hands and raised a brow. "You've got quite the record, Mr. Barrett. I guess the desire to become a civil servant stopped with your brother?"
If his hands had been free, Dean would have waved one dismissively. Instead he wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Thank our dad for that,” he mumbled. It was true that he’d never had much desire to get into law enforcement, but even if he’d had inklings as a kid, the discord between him and his father had turned him off from it. Dean was sure there was all kinds of psychological shit to unpack there, but he didn’t have the energy or inclination. Dean slumped further against the seat, doing his best to wipe his sweaty palms off on the back of his shirt. He wanted to get this over with and either go home or go to jail, not sit around and get a lecture from some asshole deputy.
She studied him silently again and wondered just how many people in this town dealt with daddy issues. Bailey knew Grady's dad had been the Sheriff here before dying of a heart attack and honestly, she hadn't even known Grady had a brother until tonight. It was a bit strange to think about the people she worked with having families and actual lives. They always felt so removed from her in that sense. Maybe because she kept herself removed from them too. After another moment Bailey set her tablet aside and slipped out of the car, motioning for Dean to get his leg inside the vehicle. She could tell he didn't want to but Dean didn't resist and once he was fully inside the back she shut the door.
Slipping back into the front seat, Bailey started up the car and reached for her mints to pop one into her mouth as she maneuvered the car from the parking spot to head for the main street. "Want one?" she asked, holding the roll of mints up to where he could see them.
Dean had groaned in protest when Jansen made it clear what she wanted, but he’d done it anyway. The last thing he needed was for her to stack resisting arrest charges on top of whatever else he’d already racked up for the night. Fuck. He should’ve just stayed home, stayed bored, stayed lowkey and out of the way. But who knows when that fucking idiot would’ve spotted him, he could’ve gotten jumped at the grocery store just as easy as at the pier. And probably still gotten arrested for it. Dean’s anxiety started to rise, his heart thudding harder in his chest and that tight feeling squeezing his throat. The time had passed to try and talk himself out of this, but his voice wasn’t going to work well now anyway, so fuck it. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the edge of the seat in front of him, closing his eyes and trying to breathe through the dizziness from booze and the looming panic attack. “No,” he croaked without even looking at what she was offering. It didn’t matter.
Bailey set the mints down, sucking on the one between her teeth for a moment. She could hear Dean's distress in his voice, but it could have also been that he had to vomit. Asking him to warn her first probably wouldn't do much. There was a reason why the backseat of patrol cars were covered in plastic. Vomit would be a hell of a lot more tolerable than what some people did back there. She was silent, not in the mood for anymore conversation and well aware that Dean wasn't either. By the time the car pulled up to the curb in front of Grady's house, Bailey was itching for nicotine. The house itself was dark but for the porch light and Grady's car was gone. Probably out with his lady friend tonight. "Do you have a house key?" Bailey asked Dean as she turned off the car and unbuckled her seat belt.
With his head down, Dean had no idea where they were going, and it didn’t seem to matter much to the churning in his gut. He could hold his liquor just fine, that deeply sick feeling came more from that sense of being trapped, hurtling toward impending doom. He’d always hated this part, but every time he got arrested it got worse, and it took a lot of effort not to really start blubbering. This was not only a female cop, she was attractive, and Dean was already embarrassed enough for one night. He was grateful when they stopped, then surprised as Bailey spoke up. Dean lifted his head and blinked as he looked through the window and found himself back home. “You’re not gonna book me?” he asked, his tone full of stupid surprise. “Uh, yeah, I got a key.”
Bailey sighed and glanced back at Dean before pushing her door open. “Do you want me to book you?” See? They were both full of stupid questions tonight. And he looked so damn relieved to be home that she was afraid he would start thanking her or something as equally uncomfortable. She didn’t wait for his answer but got out of the car to open the back door and motion for him to get out. Bailey would uncuff him and send him on his way. He could explain the black eye to Grady himself. “I like your brother. He’s a good guy and I know how people talk in this town. The Sheriff’s own brother getting arrested wouldn’t be a good look and there’re people who would give him shit for it. I’d rather avoid that and I’m sure he would too.”
Of course it was a favor for Grady and not for him, but Dean couldn’t give a shit what her motivations were. He was just stupidly happy to get out of the patrol car. His heart was still beating a hundred miles an hour and he still felt sweaty and shaky, but the fresh air outside the vehicle started to ease all of that up. He couldn’t even really be insulted by the between-the-lines message that he was an embarrassment. Dean had heard that plenty in his life. “Yeah, let’s all avoid that,” he murmured as he stood up and turned his back to her so she could free his hands. He grinned up at the sky, feeling like he could kiss her. “Thank you,” Dean said with palpable relief. “I owe you one, Jansen. I’ll tell Grady to give you a raise.” He turned his head a bit to aim that grin at her.
Bailey didn't consider Dean to be the embarrassment, but the arrest would have been. So maybe those two things would've been tied together. She took the cuffs off of his wrists and stepped back, half-expecting Grady to come driving down the road. Arching a brow, she moved to shut the back door once he was out of the way. "You don't owe me anything. I think it would be best if you didn't tell Grady anything about this. He might find out some other way, but I'd risk it and keep it to yourself. I don't feel like answering questions about why I brought you home." Bailey wasn't going to tell him to behave himself because like he pointed out earlier, she was not his mother. People were going to do whatever they hell they wanted. She was just there to scare them off or keep them from doing something ridiculously stupid.
“Even better,” Dean murmured as he stepped away and shook his hands out. He wanted to just flop down on the grass and appreciate not being in the back of a cop car, but he didn’t want to give Jansen any extra reasons to think he was too drunk to function or something. He was more than happy to pretend none of this ever happened as far as his brother was concerned. “Then I really owe you one,” he insisted, beaming at her now and rubbing his wrists. His stupid hands were still sweaty, but that would pass too. He would have to go back to the pier tomorrow to get his car, but he could manage that without needing to fill in the whole story -- he’d just been too tipsy to drive, that was all, and he caught a ride home. “You like to drink? Maybe I can buy you a drink sometime ... off duty, of course.”
Well, his mood had certainly shifted for the better, though Bailey was perceptive enough to know he hadn't been faking his despondency in the back of the car. She recognized anxiety. Moving back toward her open door, Bailey huffed a soft laugh at his question. Did she like to drink? Probably more than he, or anyone else, would find attractive. But Bailey also knew he was relieved and probably grateful for her cutting him a break, so the offer was definitely born from thankfulness than anything else. If Bailey had truly held on to all of the favors supposedly owed to her, she would have probably been in pretty good shape. Looking at him, even in the dark, she could tell he was good looking. He probably charmed his way out of a lot of problems when he smiled like that. "You really don't have to do that," Bailey said with a glance in his direction. "But if you see me out sometime, off duty, feel free to put a whiskey sour in my hand."
Dean was grateful, but he also had eyes in his head and liked women, so it was not lost on him that Officer Jansen was hot. He’d always had more trouble out of female cops than male, for whatever reason, but this one had turned out pretty cool ... even though she could’ve uncuffed him and let him ride up front if she was just taking him home. Dean understood the message though. He supposed he needed to try and remember all the locals who might be pissed off at him and start trying to make amends so this kind of thing didn’t happen again. He just hoped those amends wouldn’t involve money, because he didn’t have much. He could afford a few whiskey sours though. “Whiskey sour, you got it, Officer Jansen,” Dean told her, still grinning as he backed up a couple of unsteady steps. He patted his pockets until he came up with his keys and pulled them out.
Nobody got to ride up front with her unless it was a fellow cop. She broke rules from time to time, but that was one she wasn't about to get busted for. Besides, maybe riding in the back of the cop car had knocked some sense into him, though she kind of doubted it. Dean Barrett looked like trouble to her. That smile was pretty lethal. Bailey shot him a wary look as she noticed his wobbly steps, but she had a feeling he could make it inside in one piece and without her help. "Goodnight, Mr. Barrett," she said, finally allowing some amusement to seep into her voice before she slipped into the car to pull the door shut. Grady was definitely going to have his hands full with his brother if there were any more "old grudges" waiting for him in town. That would have to be Grady's problem though. Bailey had more than enough of her own.