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Nobody's Dream Girl

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Wynonna's head ached, no it stabbed. Someone was definitely stabbing hot nails into her temples. She let her head fall back against the side of the house and muttered, "I didn't know I could still get this hungover."

"It's like mama always said," Doc called from the kitchen, "you've got to maintain your vices."

Beside her on the porch bench, Dolls winced. "You better be bringing more coffee," he called back.

"I was not aware that I was the help," Doc replied, but she could hear him rattling around in there.

It was true, she hadn't been drinking that much lately. Wave's wedding reception the night before had been the exception after a long dry spell. Well, not dry, but not as whiskey-soaked as her demon hunting days had been.

"He's nor wrong," Wynonna said. "My head hurts." She tried to breath slowly and let the feeling pass. The cool of the morning air was better than the stuffiness of the house had been, at least. It had a sharp pine smell too it, the smell of the end of summer in the foothills, and something that Wynonna hadn't even realised she'd missed until she'd stepped off that bus five years before.

"Want me to kiss it better?" Dolls asked.

"Would I have to move?" It seemed like it would be worth it, but maybe not. The night had been long, and her body was weak.

Before Dolls could answer, the porch door banged, and Doc said, "What's this about kissing?" He filled Dolls' cup from the pot he carried, filling the air with the smell of coffee, then bent and kissed him lightly. Or it started out lightly, and ended up with Dolls moaning deep in his throat, and Doc's free hand cupping the back of his head as he leaned in.

As much as Wynonna couldn't possibly move, she cracked an eye open to catch the show. She could watch those two all day, her beautiful men.

"Hey! Forgetting someone?" she complained when it became clear that all day might actually be an option. She'd been promised coffee and kisses, and had yet to get either.

Doc pulled away long enough to look at her sideways, though his forehead rested against Dolls'. "Never in this life," he promised.

Wynonna held out her mug, and Doc refilled it, pulling the pot high and ending with a flourish. "Exhibitionist." Dolls said it into Doc's ear, but loud enough for her to hear.

"I am that," Doc agreed. He kissed the side of Dolls' mouth, and leaned over to set the coffee pot down. Then he turned and took Wynonna's face, cupped it between both his hands, tilted it up, and kissed her. His lips were gentle against hers, just touching her mouth, then pulling away so that he could look into her eyes. Wynnona was tempted to grab the front of his shirt and yank him down, but she wanted to see what he'd do next too. "If you want to learn about exhibitionism," he said to Dolls, "We could ask Wynonna here to sit in my lap, and witness how the situation progressed from there."

Dolls didn't answer past another moan, but he put his hand on Wynonna's ankle and stroked up her calf. Her head still ached, but her thighs flexed, and she felt a jolt of pleasure between her legs.

Wynonna purred. Waves was safely off on her honeymoon, and Wynonna couldn't think of anyone else who would come out to the Earp ranch this early. If she climbed into Doc's lap, and let his hands ride her shirt up and push under her bra, let him undo her belt and touch her until she groaned and bucked against him, until Dolls had had enough and knelt in front of her and pushed his cock into her while Doc held her, right there on the porch, well, who would know? Wynonna didn't give a fuck anyway. The town could, and did, say what it wanted about her and her men. No skin of her nose. She was too happy to care.

She held up her mug to get it clear as Doc leaned closer and started to kiss her neck. The mug tipped; hot coffee splashed on her wrist. Wynonna didn't flinch. She was too happy to care.

Too happy too...

The coffee hadn't hurt, because it hadn't burned her hand.

Wynonna shoved Doc off her with her right hand, then threw the hot coffee in his face with her left. Stunned, he fell back, colliding with Dolls who was pushing himself to his feet, and they both went down in a tangle of long legs and profanity.

Peacemaker wasn't on her hip. Wynonna reached for her boot, and, no, not there either. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, leaning into the reality of the pain, and tried again at her hip. Her hand found the grip now, and she drew it, and without blinking shot Doc between the eyes. He fell backwards onto the porch, even as he rose. The revolver warmed from more than just the shot, and clicked over to the next round. She shot Dolls though the left temple.

He collapsed, falling forward onto Doc, his eyes never leaving hers. They flashed yellow for a moment before he died, and then the world folded in, and Wynonna was falling.

She landed on her ass in the woods.

Above her, a twisted grey figure reached out with stiff arms. One stretched down towards her, the other was embedded in Doc's forehead, like it had stuck its fingers right though his skull to his brain. The thing flickered in and out, and Wynonna didn't take the time to figure out what the fuck it was, just drew Peacemaker and shot it in the chest. It wavered, flickiering, then tore into wasp-nest shards of paper, and scattered across the woods.

"Hat trick," Wynonna muttered. Two dream lovers and one demon.

Beside her, Doc dropped to his knees then curled in on himself until his forehead pressed to the ground and his arms wrapped over his head. She could still see the look on his face when she'd shot him, all the reality that dreams could provide.

It was still fall, and the air still smelled like pine, and her head still hurt like a sun of a bitch, but now Wynonna remembered.

The curse was still in place; she and Doc were still working for Black Badge; Waverly wasn't married; no one was her lover, not even Doc, and Dolls was still gone. A couple hours ago, they'd been hunting something that had been driving the citizenry into the arms of Purgatory's over-worked mental health professionals.

It had gotten a bit fuzzy after she and Doc had driven out of town, but she guessed the demon had found them before they'd found it.

Wynonna crawled over to Doc and shook him lightly by the shoulder. "You hurt?"

"Wyatt?" he asked. Wynonna yanked her hand back. She'd only once heard his voice so small, so desperate for the tiniest scrap of hope, and that had been when he'd asked the witch if his best friend had come back for him after all. No need to ask what the demon had given Doc in his dreams.

"Just me," she said. Everyone's second choice. "Come on, let's go home. You can pour us both a drink."

Doc's shoulders heaved once, then dropped, before he unfolded and climbed to his feet. He glanced at the grey fragments mingling with the leaves on the forest floor, then at Peacemaker, still in Wynonna's hand. He moved to tip his hat, remembered it was gone, and let his hand fall. "I could about use a drink," he said. His voice was rough now, and he wouldn't meet her eyes.

They probably should collect some of the remnants to appease Lucado, but honestly she could get fucked after a day like this. Wynonna kicked through the leaves as she trudged back, only holstering Peacemaker when they came back to the road. She wanted to ask again if Doc was going to be okay, but knew it wouldn't do either of them any good. At least it sounded like he would drink with her this time.

"How did you know?" Doc's words broke what had been the start of a decent companionable silence, and Wynonna almost flinched away from them.

"I'm an Earp," she answered easily. "Paranoid is what we do. Plus I spilled coffee on my hand, and it didn't hurt, so..." she shrugged, and deliberately focused on unlocking the truck.

Doc didn't say anything else until she was driving back into town. "I should have known too," he muttered, quiet again.

Wynonna didn't know what to say to that. She thought he'd been shown what she had: just what he'd wanted, and then had it ripped away, only it hadn't been Doc's choice to leave it. Maybe even if he'd known he'd have decided to stay until he was the same catatonic mess as all the others.

Not like Wynonna had, she'd known too good to be true even before the coffee hadn't burned. Life hadn't burned, and she'd known then, just like she knew without asking that Doc hadn't been dreaming about her. She wasn't the kind of girl to whom the world granted wishes.