Therapy
"We flipping don't."
"You flipping do."
"We don't!"
"You do!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Don't!"
"Do! Don't you argue with me, Mr. Larabee! What I say is gospel, and I say you and your whole team needs anger management therapy!"
"But, Judge-"
"No! That's the final word! You're going!"
Chris scowled and tried out his death glare on the Judge, who ignored him. With his trump card played to no avail, Chris stormed out of the office, muttering furiously, and defiantly kicked a waste-paper bin on his way through the door, sending it flying.
+ + + + + + +
"So now we have to go to some stupid therapist, and it's all your bloody fault!"
"My fault?! How is it my fault?!"
"I'm the team leader! If you would've just followed my orders and hit the damn thing when I told you -"
"Now, hold on there, Mr. Larabee! The blame cannot rest entirely upon the shoulders of Mr. Tanner!"
"You! Don't you start, with your damn five-dollar words! If you hadn't been behind the barrel that duck would never have-"
"Uhhh, guys!" JD stepped in, attempting to mediate. "Come on, now, let's not fight..."
Buck put a hand on his roommate's shoulder. "JD, stay out of this, kid-"
Contrary to what Chris had insisted, tempers had been rather short around the office of late, and JD's had just reached breaking point. He turned on his roommate with a ferocious snarl, and a very good impression of Chris in a bad mood.
"Goddammit, would you stop treating me like a kid! What are you, my mother?! Lay off!"
Buck was taken aback. "Don't you take that tone with me, young man! I may be your friend, but I'm still a superior officer, and don't think the fact that you're my roommate is gonna stop me slapping your sorry butt with an official reprimand! Or rather, getting Chris to do it!"
The raised voices of Chris, Vin and Ezra arguing over who was to blame for their temper tantrums coming to the attention of Judge Travis, and JD and Buck arguing about nothing in particular, were joined by the sounds of yet another argument coming from the direction of Nathan and Josiah's shared desk.
"I knew it! You stole my stapler! And then you lied about it! And you a religious man! How do you live with yourself?!"
"It's my stapler, you hypocritical healer! You borrowed it from me six months ago!"
"I only bought this thing three weeks ago, you parsimonious preacher!"
+ + + + + + +
Judge Travis, who had been stricken by a guilt attack - no doubt brought on by the defeated slouch of Chris's shoulders as he reached the elevator - stood in the doorway, observing the bickering team in silence. He had come to tell Chris that he had reconsidered, and maybe they didn't need therapy, but in the face of this display... He shook his head, speechless, and walked away. He would call the psychologist ASAP.
+ + + + + + +
And so it was that the team that had come to be known as The Magnificent Seven trooped sullenly into the office of Dr. Benjamin Thornton, which seemed more crowded than usual due to the fact that extra chairs had been brought in to accommodate everyone.
"I don't see why I have to be here..." Chris muttered sulkily as he sat down.
The doctor, overhearing, raised an eyebrow, nodded his head slightly, and scribbled something in his notebook, underlining it several times.
Buck was horrified. He had expected the therapist to be a woman, so that he could flirt his way out of these sessions.
JD looked around enthusiastically as he took his seat. He'd always wanted to see the inside of a psychologist's office.
Vin was depressed. When word of this got around the office - which it would - they'd never live it down...
Ezra yawned and rubbed his eyes irritably. They couldn't have scheduled the session for, say, one o'clock in the afternoon. Noooo, they had to come at the ungodly hour of seven am.
Josiah and Nathan had agreed (after almost coming to blows over the stapler) to reserve judgement on the matter of therapy in general. Applied to them specifically , however, they were very much against it, although they were willing to go along with it since their teammates so clearly needed help.
+ + + + + + +
Dr. Thornton watched the way his new patients seated themselves with interest. Chris, he noted, had automatically taken the middle seat (which was the most comfortable of the lot, and looked it), with Buck and Vin on either side. JD sat next to Buck, with Ezra on his other side, and Nathan and Josiah sat next to Vin. He wrote a note in his book, and looked up.
"Hello, gentlemen!" he said cheerily. "My name is Doctor Benjamin Thornton, and I'll be your therapist this morning!" His laughter at the little joke died a messy death in the face of the stares he received. He cleared his throat and went on. "You can call me Ben if you like, but I really must object to being called Benjy."
Chris spoke up from his slumped position, calculated to convey maximum contempt for the proceedings. "You look like you're barely old enough to be out of high school, doc."
Benjy cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, I received my degree three months ago, and have built up a substantial practice in that time. I'm very good at what I do."
"I can't believe the Judge thinks having a twelve year old talk to us can do us any good," Vin complained morosely.
Thornton was an unassailable fountain of patience. "I assure you, I'm perfectly competent. I came first in my class." Suddenly the doc noticed that he was trying very hard to impress these men, and was failing miserably. He wondered why, and made a mental note to discuss it with his own therapist. He shook his head slightly, returning his attention to the problem at hand. "If we may continue?"
There was a snore from the seat next to JD. Ezra had fallen asleep.
Thornton sighed. He had a feeling that this was going to be a long hour.
+ + + + + + +
He was right. Finally, however, the hour was up. As the seven reached the door, eager for freedom, he stopped them.
"One more thing."
The team turned as one and watched Thornton expectantly.
"I want you all to have a theme song ready for your next session. Which is, I think, tomorrow."
There was a pause, then: "...What?"
Thornton smiled sweetly. "A theme song. Not really a theme song, but a song that calms you down, right? Like if you were angry, and you heard this song, you'd calm down. One for each of you. Choose your own. And you'll be expected to sing a piece of it."
The seven men gaped at him in horror, so shocked that they allowed themselves to be ushered out without a fuss.
Thornton smiled to himself. He'd never made a patient sing before, but the bastards deserved it for giving him such a hard time. He was really looking forward to the next day...
+ + + + + + +
Team Seven sat clustered around a too-small table at the local McDonalds - too small because of the huge amounts of food that Vin and JD had ordered.
"I can't believe the Judge thinks we need anger management therapy!" JD looked around at his friends with an earnest expression on his face.
Chris shrugged. "He's obviously been working too hard. We never fight!"
The others nodded agreement, and returned to their food.
Buck irritably pushed a side order of fries away from his burger. "Keep your food to yourself, kid!"
"I am! Those are your fries!"
"Nuh-uh! I've eaten mine."
"Actually, I think you ate mine."
"Oh, sorry, Josiah. Here, have these."
JD shook his head, miffed. "Make sure of your facts next time, Buck."
"Oh, come on, you can't blame me! You ordered three burgers as an appetizer!"
"Now, hold up there, pard," Vin drawled around a mouthful of quarter-pounder with cheese. "He's a growing boy."
JD scowled at the defense offered by Vin. "I'm not a growing boy!"
Everyone ignored him.
+ + + + + + +
"Don't you start with me, Mr. Fries with fries on top with extra fries, and a side of fries, heavy on the fries!" Buck was saying. "And let's not forget, 'Oh, can I have some fries with that?' You're just as bad as he is! Cluttering up the table so normal people can't fit their food on it!"
Chris stepped in to attempt to referee, but was blindsided by a splodge of Mayo, thrown by Vin and intended for Buck. He turned on his friend with a gleam of fury in his eyes.
"That's my favourite jacket, you clumsy asshole!"
+ + + + + + +
Ezra was staring, aghast, at a drop of Mayo that had hit him on the collar.
"That's a three hundred dollar shirt you just ruined, Mr. Tanner. I hope you're willing to pay for it."
Vin took time out from yelling insults at his boss to sneer, "Oh, who spends that much on a shirt anyway!"
Ezra took offense at this remark. "At least I don't dress like a, like a... a churlish, ill-mannered boor of a cowboy! You're a disgrace to the badge!"
This started yet another yelling match.
Josiah took advantage of the chaos to steal a french fry from Nathan, who was unfortunately not as engrossed in the fight as he seemed.
"Thief!"
"Selfish cad!"
"Swindler!"
"Reprobate!"
+ + + + + + +
The next morning, the Magnificently Angry Seven were just as upset at having to go to therapy as before. Thornton noted quietly that they sat in exactly the same seats as they had the previous day.
The first thing he said to them was, "You are aware that Mr. Larabee is sitting in by far the most comfortable chair of the lot?"
The others looked over at Chris and shrugged. "Yeah? So? He gets the comfiest chair at the office, too. Why?"
Thornton blinked. "Nothing... Did you all find a song that calms you?"
Everyone nodded reluctantly. Thornton smiled. "Good. Do we have any volunteers to go first?"
An expression of dismay crossed JD's face. "You mean we have to tell you... in front of everyone?"
Thornton nodded, frowning slightly. "That was the idea. Would you like to go first?"
"No!" JD sounded panicky. "Hell, no!"
"Come on, now, JD, no-one's going to laugh at you."
"Speak for yourself," said Buck, grinning.
"I'll do it."
Thornton looked at Ezra in surprise. He had read the man's file, and this wasn't like him... "All right, Ezra, go ahead."
Ezra cleared his throat. "It's by Sting. 'Shape of My Heart.'"
The doc raised an eyebrow. "Yes? Sing some?"
"Er..." Ezra looked around, sighed, and took a deep breath. "I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier, I know that the clubs are weapons of war. I know that diamonds mean money for this art, but that's not the shape of my heart," he sang.
"Damn, Ez, that's a mighty purdy voice you have there!" Vin chuckled.
Ezra glowered at him. "Why don't you go next, then?"
Vin swallowed. "Uh, um...."
"Yeah, Vin. Your turn." Chris's tone left no room for argument.
Vin licked his lips, then, steeling himself, he said, "I shot the sheriff."
Chris blinked. "That's as may be, but I don't see what it has to do with anything. And I'm sure you had your reasons," he added as an afterthought.
"No, uh, the song? You know, by Bob Marley? 'I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy...'"
Thornton was scribbling away on his pad. "Josiah, how about you?"
Josiah went bright red. "Uh, uh, Buck can go first."
Buck shrugged. "Love to." He promptly burst into song, causing the others to wince and put their hands over their ears. "The Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together - Love shack baby!"
"Thank you, Buck, that's fine," Thornton said hurriedly. "Go on, Josiah. Don't be shy."
Josiah, mortified, attempted to leap from his seat and run away. Nathan caught him and pulled him back down, saying, "You can't be worse than Buck, man."
The big man sighed. "All right, ahem. 'The only man who could ever teach me was the son of a preacher man...'" he sang, and not too badly at that. "Um. It's 'Son of a Preacher Man,' by Dusty Springfield..." He went red again, and hunched over in his chair in an attempt to escape the stares of his colleagues.
Thornton broke the silence. "Chris?"
Chris glanced around for an escape route, but he was trapped. "Desperado," he said. "Don Henley." In response to the blank stares he received, he added, "The Eagles?"
Nods of understanding made the rounds.
"Well? Sing some!" Vin met his employer's gaze steadily, until he gave in.
"Desperado, why don't you come to your senses, you've been out riding fences for so long now..."
Even if Chris's voice had been awful, nobody would have dared to laugh. But since he sang surprisingly well, that was all right.
"I know that song!" Nathan exclaimed. "It's a good song."
Chris nodded. "It was either that or 'Paint It Black', by the Rolling Stones. That one's not as theme-songish, though."
"Who's next? I believe it's only Nathan and JD that haven't gone yet?"
JD swallowed. He remembered this feeling very well from his school days - it was the same feeling he got when he hadn't prepared for something and he just knew the teacher was going to call on him next.
"Nathan, why don't you go first."
JD slumped back in relief and glanced surreptitiously at his watch, hoping their hour was almost up. He was thrown into the depths of despair, however, when he realized that they were only ten minutes into the session.
"Uh, I chose 'Like a Surgeon' by Weird Al, Ben."
Buck raised an eyebrow. "What is this, a game show? Oh well, sing it already."
Nathan gave him a dirty look, but sang, "I came last in my class, barely passed at the institute. Now I'm trying to avoid, yeah I'm trying to avoid a malpractice suit. Like a surgeon, cuttin' for the very first time..." His voice trailed off, and he tilted his head slightly. "It's quite a funny song. JD, your turn!"
Nathan was relieved when the attention switched expectantly from him to JD.
JD blushed. "Do I really have to tell everyone?" he asked desperately.
Benjy nodded.
JD put his hands over his face and mumbled something.
"What was that? Speak up!"
JD mumbled louder.
"Still can't hear you, kid."
JD lowered his hands. "It's from the Lion King."
"Which song?"
"Um, the one that goes, 'I just can't wait to be king'."
"Well, if that isn't the sweetest thing I ever did hear," Buck said, grinning hugely.
"Shut up, Buck. I think it's a good theme song."
JD cast Chris a grateful look just before Thornton took over the proceedings once again.
"Now, I want you all to tell me about your relationships with each other."
Seven faces showed astonishment.
"What?"
"Huh?"
"Now just one minute, mister -"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, how you get along. That kind of thing."
The seven looked at each other for a few seconds, and then chorused, "No way!"
They spent the rest of the session arguing over the fact that it was completely against their natural instincts to talk about "feelings and such".
Finally, Thornton was forced to give up for the day and dismiss them.
"Remember, guys," he called as they walked out. "If you get mad, just think of your theme song and count to ten!"
+ + + + + + +
After work, everyone decided that they needed to unwind, so they all headed down to what they called "the saloon" for a drink and a bite to eat.
They lounged around the table in a thoughtful silence as they ate.
Finally, Chris spoke up. "I do not like therapy. That man is an ass."
The others nodded. "No kidding. Singing theme songs. Really!"
"Although you have to admit Ezra has a purdy voice. And JD picked such a cute theme song!" Buck affectionately cuffed the kid's ear.
"Shut up!"
Vin yawned. "We really have to find a way to get out of this whole psychotherapy thing."
"You'd probably screw it up by not being where I told you to be."
Vin scowled at Chris. "Would you get over it already? I was more useful where I was!"
"Oh, yeah? I bet that poor defenseless bunny would disagree with you!"
"No, it wouldn't!"
"That's right, but only because it's dead!"
JD sighed. "Those two really need to let bygones be bygones."
"Oh, I don't know," Buck disagreed. "Some things are worth holding a grudge over."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, certain people making certain other people burn their favourite rubber chicken and then welshing on their promise to buy another one, for instance."
"Oh, for God's sake..."
"No, really, JD, I loved that chicken. And you so cruelly forced me to throw it on the fire..."
"I didn't force you, Buck! For crying out loud, let it go!"
Nathan was glaring, outraged, at Josiah. "Get your thieving hands off my salad!"
"They were nowhere near your stupid salad!"
"Liar! Unhand my olive, you demented desperado!"
"I don't have your olive, you leery lunatic! You're just making this up to get at me!"
"Paranoid profiler!"
"Fiendish fibber!"
"Crazy kleptomaniac!"
Josiah's reply was cut short when he noticed that someone was singing. Gradually, the arguments around the table died down as everyone turned to stare at the minstrel. It was Ezra.
"I'm one card short of a full deck," he crooned, "I'm not quite the shilling. One wave short of a shipwreck - I'm not my usual top billing... I'm coming down with a fever; I'm really out to sea... This kettle is boiling over, I think I'm a banana tree. Oh dear."
The others grinned when they realized what he was singing. To their utter stupefaction, Chris joined in.
"I'm going slightly mad. I'm going slightly mad. It finally happened... I'm slightly mad... Just very slightly mad..."
Inez was puzzled. "I didn't realize it was karaoke night."
Throwing caution - and, in Buck's case, consideration of the state of other people's ears - to the wind, everyone followed their leader's example and joined in until the end.
"...And there you have it."
Ezra steepled his fingers calmly as the song finished. "Wow, this singing thing actually works. Fascinating." He paused and met the eyes of everyone at the table, one by one. This took some time. "Now that I have your attention," he continued eventually, "I would like to express my agreement with Vin's earlier statement about the futility of continuing our association with Doctor Thornton."
Chris smiled a devilish smile. "You have a plan?"
"I do indeed." Ezra explained what he had in mind. To his disappointment, Chris refused outright.
"I'm sorry, Ezra, but that's just too cruel. He's not that bad a guy."
Ezra sighed, hiding his dismay behind his poker face. "Then I shall see you in therapy tomorrow morning, Mr. Larabee. I'm going home."
+ + + + + + +
The third session was not going well. They were twelve minutes and - Thornton checked his watch - thirty-two seconds in, and the men were already at each other's throats. He was a bit annoyed that they weren't fighting about who got to sit in the comfy chair, which was what his peers had told him to expect, but rather about such trivial things as Ezra being unreliable, Josiah being a thief, Chris being an unrelenting slave driver, Vin being a rebel without a cause, Nathan being a pathological liar, Buck being an idiotic womanizing mother hen, and JD being to young for his job.
"I agree with Chris," he said eventually, just to get them to shut up.
Chris narrowed his eyes, a sign that anyone who knew him well, and most that didn't, recognized as a sign of imminent danger. Thornton, however, was happily oblivious.
"What was that, Benjy?" Chris asked, mildly.
Thornton winced at the use of the hated nickname, but elaborated. "Well, I've read all your files, and Ezra does seem rather unreliable."
Ezra looked hurt. "I am not," he muttered, stung.
Chris, however, was not that polite. He leapt from his seat and, grabbing Thornton by the collar, yanked him from his chair. "Listen up, moron. Ezra is one of the most reliable men I've ever worked with, as are all the other members of my team, and I would trust him with anything." Chris hesitated for a second as he considered this statement. "Except money of which the owners are unknown," he corrected himself, then re-focused on the object of his wrath.
"But, but, you said it yourself!" Thornton spluttered.
"I have the right to say it! I've earned it! You work with my team for three years, and stay alive, and watch everyone's back, and sit in hospitals and worry about them for hours on end, and then you can insult them! Until then, watch your damned mouth!"
"I'm... sorry?"
Chris nodded slightly, released the terrified man, and sat down again, dusting off his shirt.
Ezra sat up straight, looking pleased. "Mr. Larabee, I didn't know you cared."
Thornton cleared his throat, and tried again. "Although, surely JD is rather young for this line of work?"
Buck's mouth dropped open. "Look who's talking, Mr. Just-out-of-diapers! You don't look old enough to tie your own shoelaces! And JD's a hell of a lot more capable of 'this line of work' than you could ever be!"
Chris was back on his feet, looming threateningly over Ben.
"JD is one of the best agents in the ATF. The only men I know that are as good as he is are sitting right in front of you," he said coldly. "And just to reiterate, don't ever insult anyone on my team. Or didn't you hear me the first time?"
This time it was JD's turn to look pleased.
Thornton's mouth opened and shut a few times, before he nodded weakly.
Chris turned to Ezra and regarded him thoughtfully. "You know that plan you came up with last night? Let's do it."
"Plan?" Thornton whispered fearfully.
Chris's smile was pure evil.
+ + + + + + +
Half an hour later, Thornton went to see Judge Travis, and spoke to him for twenty minutes. Then he quit his job, packed his bags, and moved to Australia, where he lived out his life as a happy, if quite nervous, sheepherder.
+ + + + + + +
Seven extremely self-satisfied men strolled into the ATF building, about two hours later than they should have. They had taken what they considered a much deserved break, and gone to see a movie. Nathan and Vin had already seen it, but agreed that it was good enough to watch again. Unfortunately, in discussing just how good it was, they had inadvertently given away the ending to their friends, and most of the other people in the cinema. Still, they weren't really in the mood to fight about it. For once.
+ + + + + + +
Whispers and awed looks followed them as they headed for the elevator. Finally, they were approached by a particularly daring young man.
"Hello, sir," he said to Chris, nodding to the other men.
"Hey, Norm, what can I do for you?"
"Er... Judge Travis wants to talk to you, sir."
"Really? I'll go and see him as soon as I've caught up on my paperwork." Which shouldn't take more than ten years, he added to himself. The smirks on the faces of Vin, Ezra and Buck indicated that they had had the same thought.
"Er, he's here, sir. In your office, sir. Waiting. For you. Sir."
Chris sighed. "Ah. Well, thanks for the warning, Norm."
Norm bobbed his head nervously, then said, "Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Sir, is it true that you made a therapist cry, sir?"
Chris smiled faintly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Norm nodded again and dashed off as the elevator announced its arrival with a cheerful "ding!"
+ + + + + + +
"Want some moral support?"
Chris smiled at his best friend, but shook his head. "Nah. No big deal."
Vin leaned against his desk and shrugged. "Up to you. Good luck."
Chris nodded, took a deep breath, and entered his office with trepidation.
+ + + + + + +
The Judge was sitting in Chris's chair, with his feet up on Chris's desk, drinking coffee out of the mug that Chris frequently referred to as his favourite.
Chris carefully did not sigh. He was in for it this time. "Sir! What a nice surprise."
Judge Travis frowned. "Don't pretend you didn't know I was coming, Chris."
"No, sir. Sorry."
"You know why I'm here, don't you."
"I have no idea, sir."
"Liar."
"Sir?"
The Judge sighed. "Chris, Dr Thornton came to see me today."
"Really, sir?"
"Really. He informed me that you are in absolutely no need for therapy at all. He spent a considerable amount of time convincing me of this. Then he burst into tears, muttered something about sheep, and ran off."
"How odd, sir."
Travis removed his feet from the desk and sat up straight. "You had nothing at all to do with that?"
"Sir! I resent the fact that you could even consider the possibility of there being the merest hint of us even thinking -"
"All right, all right! Listen, I really think you need this therapy, though!"
Chris rubbed his hands over his face, hard. "But why, Judge?"
" You had a screaming match with your team in the middle of a bust! I don't care if the other teams had it under control, you could have messed it up for everyone!"
"Sir, I admit we were all a bit tense last week, but we would never endanger an operation. Nor would we lower our guard unless we were absolutely certain that there was no danger to anyone whatsoever!"
The Judge jumped up, paced frustratedly to the window, and bent to peer through the blinds.
"What are those two doing?" he asked, pointing at Josiah and Nathan, who were paging through dictionaries.
Chris came up next to the Judge. "They're looking for new names to call each other, sir."
Travis straightened. "See! Your team is constantly fighting!"
Chris allowed his surprise to show. "They are not, sir!"
Travis pointed out of the window again. "Look! Just look at those two! And those two over there!"
Chris looked.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra and Vin were arguing heatedly over something, frequent gestures being made in the direction of the waste paper bin. Buck and JD were bickering, too, probably about the helmet that Buck was attempting to force onto his roommate's head.
"That's not fighting, Judge!"
"Oh, please! What is it then?" Travis didn't bother to conceal his disbelief.
"They're just letting off steam! It's a stressful job! God knows we have to relax somehow!"
The Judge blinked. "This is how you relax?"
"Yeah! Everyone knows we don't mean a word of what we say!"
"Ah. Uh. Oh."
"Come on, I'll show you."
+ + + + + + +
Chris led the way out of his office and into the space that everyone else shared. Vin and Ezra homed in on him immediately.
"Chris! Tell Vin to throw his stupid paper away himself!"
"Ezra's closer!"
"Oh yeah, by all of four inches!"
"It's not that far! You could throw it from where you sit!"
"So could you, you lazy bastard!"
"The angle's wrong, you unhelpful sod!"
Judge Travis shook his head. "Relaxing, is it?"
He glanced over at Josiah and Nathan, who had apparently stored up enough insults for another skirmish.
"Isn't that my dictionary?"
"No, that is your dictionary."
"It isn't! Mine has the torn binder!"
"It does not!"
"Thief!"
"Liar!"
"Pirate!"
"Prevaricator!" Josiah was rather proud of that one.
"Imbecile!"
"Ignoramus!"
Chris grinned. "Just wait."
Buck was trying to hold JD in a headlock with one arm and ram the helmet on his head with the other.
"If you'd just try it on once you'd see it's not that bad, you stubborn brat!"
"I don't want to try it on! I have a helmet!"
"That dinky little thing? That couldn't protect you from a rabid paper bag!"
"It has before! Let go of my neck!" JD twisted free and sprang back, preparing to defend himself by putting up his arms in a classic boxer's pose.
Buck advanced on him threateningly, still holding the helmet.
Suddenly JD lowered his hands. "Oh, wait a minute, I just remembered!"
Buck stopped. "What?"
"Wait here!" JD raced over to his desk, retrieved a box and ran back. "Here." He handed the parcel to Buck. It had a ribbon around it.
Buck looked at it, at JD, back at the box. "What's this for? It's not my birthday."
"I know!"
"What is it?"
"Just open it, already!"
"Okay, okay," said Buck, tearing at the wrapping. "Sheesh, you ask one simple question..."
He stopped short as he finally managed to get the box open. He stared at the contents, then raised his head and stared at his friend.
"For... me?"
JD nodded.
"Kid, you shouldn't have. It..." he paused, all choked up.
JD grinned widely. "Aren't you gonna try it out?"
Buck nodded, reached into the box and reverentially withdrew...
... a rubber chicken. He held it by the neck and shook it happily in Chris's direction.
Chris smiled broadly and gave an acknowledging wave.
Buck turned to JD. "It works great, kid! Thanks!" With that he enveloped his young friend in a bear hug, lifting him off his feet, and gave him a noogie. "You wanna aggravate me a little so I can use it some more?"
JD laughed. "How about I get you some coffee instead?"
Buck pouted in mock disappointment, but, after a particularly vigorous shake of the chicken, agreed.
Ezra and Vin had paused just as Vin had prepared to throw the first - gentle - punch, after Ezra had called him a loser, and were watching Buck and the kid.
"Aw, isn't that sweet?" Vin said, smiling.
"Indeed. It makes me wonder what satisfaction we can possibly get from exchanging blows. Especially when we could be drinking coffee with those two instead."
"Brings a tear to my eye to think what we could be missing," Vin agreed, so they rushed off to join their two friends, who had sneakily decided to go to Starbucks instead of drinking office coffee. Chris couldn't very well let them start the day over two hours late and still expect them to get any work done.
Chris looked pointedly at the Judge. "See? All insults forgotten in an instant."
Judge Travis hesitated, feeling that although he wanted to stand his ground on the matter, said ground seemed to be crumbling beneath his feet. He looked around.
"What about those two?" he asked hopefully, pointing to Nate and Josiah.
"Blackguard!"
"Villain!"
"Knave!"
"Cad!"
"Simpleton!"
"Dunderhead!"
Josiah hesitated. "No, it's no good, I've run out."
Nathan laughed triumphantly. "That makes us even, then." He looked around. "Er... where've the others got to?"
Josiah replayed the last few minutes in his head, editing out himself and Nathan. "I think they went to Starbucks." He glanced over to the other side of the office and raised an eyebrow at Chris, who nodded and gave him a thumbs-up sign. He smiled at his boss, then turned back to Nate.
"Come on, rapscallion, we should be able to catch them."
He absently slung an arm around his friend's shoulder as they walked out, gesturing violently with his other hand as he explained why the Oxford was the best dictionary on the market.
+ + + + + + +
Chris allowed his gaze to wander around the now-empty office before it settled on the Judge.
"Oh..." said Judge Travis, weakly. "You people have a damned odd way of relaxing."
Chris took pity on him. "If we hurry, we should be able to catch up with them."
The Judge focused on him. "...What?"
Chris mentally rolled his eyes. "Want some coffee, Judge?"
"Is that all that's on offer?"
"It's only ten o'clock."
"In that case: hell, yes."
Chris calmly led the Judge outside, not bothering to lock the door behind him. Nobody would dare go near the office of the scariest ATF team there was - hell, they were always on the verge of ripping each other apart, and they were best friends! And who was Chris Larabee to argue with popular belief?
Chris smiled to himself as he caught the looks he got on the way out. They really did squabble to relax. And if a side effect of that was a large measure of fearful respect, well, that was all right too.
The End