Late Night
By Brate
Thanks to Kenny for his help with the ending!
ATF Universe
Larabee awakened to harsh ringing of his phone. He snatched it up and said, "What?"
"Senor Larabee?"
At hearing the softly accented voice, Chris remembered his manners. Clearing his throat, he managed to ask, "Inez? What's wrong?"
"You might want to come and pick up your men. They don't look like they should be driving."
Chris sighed. "Which ones?"
"Tanner and Standish."
"They're still there?" He squinted at the clock. 2 AM. "I thought they left."
"They didn't," she stated matter-of-factly.
"I'll be right there."
"Come around the back and I'll let you in."
Larabee grabbed a pair of pants and dragged them on. He threw on a tee shirt and shoes while cursing the men responsible for his early morning wake-up call. Those two were sometimes more trouble than they were worth.
He thought about calling the others for help, but remembered JD and Buck were out of town, and Josiah and Nathan had been drinking earlier. He was on his own. Oh, well, he could manage the two by himself.
Inez let him in the rear door with a smile, pointing at a table out in front. "Lock the door behind you," the bartender told him.
Chris walked over to his men who were enthusiastically thumb-wrestling one another. He spotted two sets of keys lying on the table and snatched them up. "Boys."
"Cowboy!" Tanner seemed overly pleased to see him. "'Bout time you showed up!"
"I was here earlier, Vin. Then I went home. Just like you were supposed to." He shot Standish an accusing look. The Southerner had been the other designated driver that evening.
Ezra grinned back at him. "Mister Lararaa-beee," he slurred. "We have been having a most excellent time."
"I can see, or more like, smell that."
"Whatcha wanna drink?" Tanner asked, holding up a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. "We can git som'more from Inez." The longhaired drunk looked around for the missing bartender. "Inez, where are ya?" Then he turned and looked around the room. "Where is evr'body?"
"They're home, where you are headed right now," Chris told him.
"We are?" Ezra looked around in confusion. "I don't seem to be going anywhere, my good man."
Chris rolled his eyes and sighed. "Let's go, guys."
Vin nodded his head shakily. "Yup, let's get outta here, Ez. This place is dead."
"I conc-- I concr-- I agree, Misssster Tanner. We should, indeed, resume the party elsewhere."
Chris tried to keep his patience. They were, after all, drunk off their asses and not responsible for their actions. Well, not until tomorrow.... "Come on, let's go." He grabbed an arm of each men, managing to get them to their feet.
Tanner grasped the edge of the table, trying to stabilize himself. "Whoa." He shook his head to clear it, almost falling over in the action. Chris steadied him as they walked out of the Saloon.
Ezra was faring a little better -- probably since he'd started drinking a few hours after his partner -- and could manage an graceless wobble to the door.
The ATF leader got them through the door, locking it behind him, and corralled the men toward the parking lot. They were almost to Larabee's truck when he felt Tanner go down.
"What are you doing?" Chris watched the sharpshooter, down on his hands and knees in the grass next to Chris' truck, clutching the ground with his hands.
Vin looked up at his boss with an 'Are you stupid?' expression on his face. "I'm tryin' ta hold on so I don't fall off th' earth."
"I shall help you my fr-friend," drawled the Southerner. He reached over and grabbed onto Vin's belt with one hand while using the other to hold onto Chris' truck. "Now you are safe."
"If you get inside, you'll be even safer," Chris tried to reason.
"If I let go, I'll float away," Vin answered with worry in his voice.
Once again, the blond tried to maintain his patience. He counted to ten and said, "If Ezra hangs onto your belt while you get in you won't float away."
Retaining his grip on the lawn, Vin seemed to consider the option. "You won't let go?" he asked the inebriated undercover agent.
"Fear not, my friend. Your belt will not be loosed from my tightfisted grip."
Tanner continued to look at Standish in confusion.
Finally Chris said, "He won't let go, Vin."
"Okay."
Once Vin gave his okay and let go, Ezra yanked his cohort back into the open truck door. Unfortunately, Chris had been standing in the way and now wound up on the bottom of a three-agent pileup.
"Get off of me," Larabee ordered, pushing against the bulk on top of him.
Ezra and Vin started giggling when they heard the grunted demand. "Sorry, Cowboy," Vin said, continuing to laugh while he rolled to the side.
Standish laughed as well and allowed his boss to get out from under him.
Somehow, Chris got out and shut the door, closing his drunken friends inside. Sending his eyes heavenward, the blond drew a deep breath, steeling himself for the ride home.
Surprisingly, the boys behaved themselves for the first half of the trip. That abruptly ended when Barry Manilow's "Copa Cabana" came on the radio.
"Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl!" sang two incredibly loud -- and offkey -- voices.
"Quiet!" shouted Larabee over the din. His yell did nothing to diminish his companions' songfest; they kept right on singing the -- sometimes incorrect -- words to the song.
Knowing he had another twenty minutes of the drive ahead of him, Chris pulled the truck over to the side of the road, and shut off the radio. "In back."
"What?" Vin looked over at Chris, clearly confused.
"I want you two in the back."
"Why?" asked Ezra.
"I have a headache and you two are not helping," Chris answered from between clenched teeth. "Now get in back."
Vin and Ezra exchanged shrugs. But instead of opening the door to get out, Vin slid the small rear window open and proceeded to squeeze through that, tumbling into the back -- which started him laughing again. Ezra, chuckling himself, tried the same maneuver with slightly less success. He was a bit stockier than the lean sharpshooter and got his shoulders stuck in the small opening. Now cackling madly, Vin attempted to pull Ezra through while the undercover agent could merely flail his legs about the Ram's cabin.
"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Chris bellowed, and shoved the thrashing agent through.
Trying to calm enough to speak, Ezra said, "Thank you for your assistance, mon capitan. I was afraid that I would remain there for the duration."
Chris responded by flipping the bird and shutting the window, locking it from the inside. He revved the engine and pulled back onto the road. He kept watch on his men in back, making sure they weren't so stupid as to leap out.
Not having the radio to sing along with, the two intoxicated men decided to hold their own concert, using show tunes. Tanner started with the song "Yellow Rose of Texas," and Standish responded giving a warbled rendition of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina."
Wishing he had earplugs, Larabee sighed. He'd have to keep those two from drinking together any more. It was just too dangerous. After the second song ended, Chris heard nothing but silence from the back. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw that the two had passed out. Thank God, he thought. Peace at last.
He drove the rest of the way quickly, the late hour making little traffic. Pulling up to his ranch house, he parked in front and cut the engine. The two continued to sleep. Not in the mood to wrestle with them, Chris left them both sleeping in his truck bed. He walked into the house, locked the door behind him, and went to bed. He was asleep in seconds.
A rumble cut into his slumber. Glancing over, he saw that it was 7 AM. Light was just beginning to break in the distance, but not as strong as he thought it should be. Focusing, he realized it was pouring down rain. He tried to go back to sleep but something was niggling at the corner of his mind. He was forgetting something.
Vin and Ezra.
They were still outside... in the rain... locked out of his house. Chris contemplated getting up for about three seconds. Then, remembering his early morning jaunt, he rolled over and went back to sleep.
Let 'em take cover in the barn. He had a couple more hours of sleep to catch up on.
The end.
