In The Back Of A Cop Car

by EFAW

But you were stealing my heart—I fell in love in the back of a cop car. AU. Oneshot.

Summary: But you were stealing my heart—I fell in love in the back of a cop car.

Warnings: K+. AU. Teenager AU. Teenager shenanigans. Trespassing. Truth or dare. Inspired by a song.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor am affiliated with Common Law in any way.

Just a cute little ficlet.

OOOO

In The Back Of A Cop Car

"But there was somethin' 'bout the way / The blue lights were shinin' / Bringing out the freedom in your eyes."

—Keith Urban, "Cop Car"

XXXX

"I don't think we should do this."

Travis grins from the fence, already three feet off the ground. "Come on, Wes, it'll be fine. I do this all the time without trouble."

"I don't know." Wes eyes the fence dubiously. "They seem awfully serious about these 'No Trespassing' signs."

"Wes!" Travis pulls himself up another foot, chain link rattling under his weight. "It'll be fine! Live a little!"

And then he flashes that grin, the one that shows all his teeth and makes his eyes light up, the one that sends little flutters through Wes's belly.

He can never seem to manage to deny that smile.

"Fine." With a great sigh, Wes moves forward, twining his fingers into the metal links. "I'll do it."

"Atta boy." The smile Travis shoots him this time is even bigger and brighter than the last. Wes ducks his head and shoves his toes into the fence to hide his blush.

The climb passes in silence. Despite Travis's head start, Wes reaches the top first, using, as Travis likes to call it, his 'stupid monkey agility'. Grinning in triumph, Wes swings over the top; in answer to a challenge Wes didn't issue, Travis decides to jump from the top instead of climbing down like a normal person, ending up in an undignified sprawl on the grass.

Wes hops lightly down, looming over the other boy's head. "You just can't slow down, can you?"

Travis beams up at him. "Going slow is for wimps. Live fast or die trying."

"That'd be a lot more meaningful if you weren't flat on your back," Wes scoffs.

Travis just keeps smiling at him and holds out a hand. Rolling his eyes, Wes reaches out and takes it.

Instead of climbing to his feet, Travis yanks him down to the ground, but Wes was expecting that and falls easily, lying gingerly in the grass with his head nestled on Travis's shoulder.

Travis sighs, tucking a hand around Wes's waist and pulling him close. "Isn't this nice?" he murmurs. "Look at that sky."

Wes peers up at the sky, a dark, navy blue with the moon hanging high and not a star to be seen because they do, after all, live in LA.

"I'm really hoping you didn't make me risk juvie to look at the sky, Travis," Wes says flatly.

Travis chuckles and gives him a squeeze. "Oh, you say the most romantic things. But no." With a nudge, he eases himself up, and Wes follows suit. "I've got something better in mind."

He holds out his hand again. This time, when Wes takes it, they don't go tumbling down. Travis just smiles that smile and leads the way into the night.

XXXX

"See?" Travis stands proudly, like he made this himself. "Isn't this awesome?"

Wes looks out at the runways, at the planes calmly gliding over the pavement, and he can't help his reluctant smile. "Okay. This is kind of cool."

"Kind of cool?" Travis plops down on the grassy slope, gently tugging Wes down with him. "This is, in fact, awesome. Just admit it. I'm brilliant."

"I don't know if brilliant is the word I'd use," Wes says with a shake of his head. "Reckless, impulsive, incorrigible—"

The rest of Wes's words are drowned out as an airplane takes off, passing almost straight overhead. The roar of the engines is overwhelming, and even though Wes knows it's not going to hit him, he ducks.

Travis just throws his head back and laughs in delight.

After a minute, when the roar of the plane's engines in his ears have faded, he joins in, his words all but forgotten.

XXXX

Even over the gentle rumble of taxing airplanes, the whoop whoop of a police car is instantly recognizable, as are the flashing lights.

Wes immediately panics.

"Travis!" he hisses, ducking into the grass like maybe that means the cops won't spot him. No luck—when he checks, the two men are making their way right over. "You said it would be fine!"

" 'cuz it will be," Travis says brightly, like there aren't two cops here about to arrest a couple of reckless teenagers for trespassing.

"Travis!" Wes hits Travis's shoulder, not gently. "I can't go to jail! I have prospects!" He's graduating next year and he doubts very much they give scholarships to juvenile offenders.

"Seriously, Wes, relax. It's all good."

The cops are close enough to make out their faces now. "Travis!" Wes wails, clutching the other boy's arm. "I'm going to murder you if we go to jail!"

"Well, in that case…" Travis shifts, dislodging Wes's hand only to grasp it in his own. "I guess we'd better run."

Wes has only a second to see that reckless, devil-may-care grin on Travis's face, illuminated by the flashing lights. That will just get us in more trouble, he thinks, but he doesn't say it.

Then they're running, and all Wes can think about is the grass flying beneath his feet and the rush of wind in his ears and the warmth of their joined hands.

XXXX

"I hate you."

Travis shifts, trying to get comfortable, and the grin never leaves his face. "Aww, you don't mean that."

"I do. I really do." Wes fidgets, the clink of the handcuffs an all-too-clear reminder of his current predicament. "This is all your fault. If I end up in jail because you decided to run, I'm never forgiving you."

And Travis, that insufferable bastard, winks. "But it'll be a helluva story, babe."

Wes stares at him, eye twitching slightly.

At Travis's urging, they ran. They ran like they had wings on their feet and hellhounds on their tail, but it really didn't mean a thing. They ended up cornered against the fence, and their flight from the law ended quickly.

And now they're sitting handcuffed in the back of a police car, and Wes's future is flashing before his eyes.

"My father's going to kill me," he moans, dropping his head against the window. "He's going to kill me and I'm going to kill you and it's going to be so messy."

"Relax, Wes," Travis says, stretching out as best he can. "They're not gonna arrest us."

"I am handcuffed in a police car, Travis!"

"But they didn't read us our rights," Travis says smugly. He presses up against Wes's side with a flirtatious grin. "That means they can't do anything to us. They're gonna let us stew for a while, then let us off with a warning."

Wes stares at the other boy. "How many times have you done this?"

"You really don't want to know." Humming in amusement, Travis drops his head onto Wes's shoulder, batting his eyes up at him. "Isn't this cozy?"

Eye twitching, Wes shrugs him off. "I'm not talking to you right now." He looks out the window, stubbornly ignoring Travis's whining at his side.

XXXX

A full five minutes later, Wes's hands are going numb where he's leaning on them. With much wriggling and twisting and a few accidental kicks at Travis, Wes gets his legs under him and brings his arms in front. He looks up to find Travis staring at him, eyes wide.

"What?"

"Man, that's insane." Travis shakes his head, sounding impressed. "If I tried to do that I'd dislocate something. You're part cat, I swear."

Wes feels a brief flutter in his chest at the praise, and he has to work extra hard to remember that he's mad at Travis. Biting his lip, he peers out the window.

"They sure are taking their time," he comments.

Travis moves up behind him, the warmth of his body sending tingles down Wes's. Wes swallows hard.

"Told you," Travis murmurs, resting his chin on Wes's shoulder, and now the long line of his body is pressed against Wes's side and he's finding it very hard to concentrate. "They're gonna let us sit here and reflect on our mistakes for a while. We'll probably be here another ten minutes, at least."

Wes sighs. "Oh goody."

But he doesn't push Travis off this time.

XXXX

"Truth or truth?"

Wes looks up. "What?"

"It's a game." Travis leans against the door, legs folded in front of him. "Like truth or dare, except without the dare part because there's not much we can do in our current situation."

"That's a stupid game." Wes frowns. "There's no point if there's no risk."

"True." Travis rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. "Okay, how about…harmless truth or…baring-your-soul truth?"

"I don't want to play."

"Come on." Travis nudges him with his foot, grinning that grin. "You could learn stuff. Potentially embarrassing stuff you can use as ammo." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Eh?"

"Fine." Wes rolls his eyes. "Um…harmless truth."

"Lame." Travis blows a raspberry, frowning in thought. "Hm. What's your favorite color?"

"I don't have a favorite color."

"Everyone has a favorite color."

"Well, I don't." Travis stares expectantly. "I don't!" Travis continues to stare; Wes shifts uncomfortably. "I don't have…okay, it's blue, alright? MY favorite color is blue." Like your eyes, he doesn't add, because that would be leaning more towards the 'baring your soul' end of the equation.

"I like blue too," Travis smiles, like he's sharing a huge secret. He leans back, looking determined "Okay, my turn."

Wes rolls his eyes again but dutifully asks, "Harmless truth or baring-your-soul truth?"

The other boy's eyes light up with the challenge. "Oh, definitely the latter. Hit me with your best shot."

"Okay." Wes's stomach twists uncertainly, butterflies dancing underneath his skin. "Why did you ask me out?"

"Wow." Travis's eyebrows go up. "Going straight for the big ones, huh? You're not holding back."

"You wanted to play the game," Wes mutters defensively, dropping his gaze.

"No, that's not…" Travis huffs, puffing out his cheeks. "Okay. Why did I ask you out. I guess it was because I noticed you staring."

Wes flinches. Travis notices and hurries on with his answer. "It's okay! I didn't mind. It was…different. In kind of a good way. And once I noticed you staring, I started watching you too. And after a while, I thought, I should ask him out." Travis shrugs. "So here we are." He leans back, managing to look like he's lounging even handcuffed in a cop car. "My turn. Why were you staring at me?"

Wes swallows, looks at his hands. "Is that a harmless truth or, you know…deeper?"

"Up to you."

Wes laces his fingers together, debating. He could say something flippant, make it harmless and brush it off.

Or he could open up, tell the whole truth and see where this goes.

He peeks up through his lashes. Travis is waiting patiently, a curious, expectant look on his face, and Wes realizes he very much wants to see where this goes.

He takes a breath and admits, "You're brilliant." Before Travis can get too smug, Wes adds, "You shine like a light. It…draws people to you. I wanted…" He clasps his hands together. No. There are some things that are too truthful. "I see things better from a distance," he finishes, staring at his hands like they hold the secret to the universe.

Travis is quiet a long time. Finally, very softly, he says, "Your turn to ask."

Wes almost forgot they were playing a game. Clearing his throat, he asks, "Harmless truth or baring-your-soul truth?"

"Baring-your-soul. What's life without a little risk?"

"Why did you ask me out?"

"Didn't you already ask me that?"

"I want to know your answer." Wes looks up and is mildly surprised by how close Travis is suddenly sitting. He swallows again. "I've watched you, and I'm not exactly your type. So why did you, with your reputation, ask me out?"

Travis shrugs, inching closer. "Because I wanted to." He leans forward, his legs pressed up against Wes's, warm and sending a thrill through him. "My turn. Why did you, knowing my reputation, say yes?"

Wes leans in, like he's confiding a secret, and confesses, "Because I wanted to."

The smile Travis flashes him is his brightest yet, lighting up the car like a spotlight, and it makes Wes's entire body flush pleasantly.

Travis nudges him with his knee. "Your turn."

Stomach alive with nerves, Wes can almost forget he's handcuffed in the back of a police car. He licks his lips. "Truth," he says, hardly more than a whisper, "or dare?"

Travis's face flickers with amusement, expression clearly saying That wasn't the game we were playing, but he just says, "Dare," with a challenge in his voice.

Wes licks his lips again. It doesn't escape his notice that Travis's gaze goes down to his mouth at the motion. The fluttering nerves spread.

"I dare you to kiss me," he murmurs, the words barely escaping his lips.

Bu that's alright, because Travis is close enough that he can hear the words anyway. "Come on, now, Wes," he murmurs, breath washing over Wes's mouth, and that's not nearly as disgusting as it would be with anyone else. "That's not a challenge at all."

And then he leans in, and they're kissing, and Wes explodes, the most delicious tingles spreading from their point of contact. Travis's lips are soft and full, moving over his mouth with practiced ease, and he knows just what to do to make Wes gasp and moan. Wes thinks he could kiss Travis forever and be happy.

It's not forever, but it's a good few minutes before Travis pulls away. Wes is feeling rumpled and rattled, and then Travis flashes those brilliant teeth and Wes is wrecked a little more.

"Been wanting to do that for a while," Travis rasps, voice husky and sending a tingle down Wes's spine, and he falls a little more.

XXXX

It takes forever and a day for the cops to finally return. Wes and Travis manage to fill the time to the point that they don't even notice the men return, and they spring apart when a throat clears from the front seat.

The cop smirks at them through the divider. "Having fun?"

Wes flushes. Travis just smirks smugly, stretching his legs across Wes's lap. "You're just jealous."

"Of a couple of teenagers? Yeah, you got me." The cop turns around as his partner climbs into the passenger seat, shaking his head in amusement. "Let's get you two home."

Wes is still feeling the warm tingles from the kissing, but those words fill him with dread.

XXXX

The closer they get to his house, the more nervous Wes gets. "Oh, this is so bad," he moans as the car turns onto his street. He peers out the window like he can see his parents standing disapprovingly on the stoop. "My father's going to kill me."

"Aww, he's not gonna kill you," Travis says with more confidence than Wes feels. He nudges Wes with his shoulder. "You'll be fine."

Wes hunches down when his house comes into view, like if he can't be seen then he can avoid this. "You're right," he groans. "He'll kill you. Then he'll kill me."

"It can't be that bad."

"Travis, I'm being brought home in a police car. At the very least, I'm going to be grounded until I'm ninety."

"Well." Now Travis sounds a little unsure. "It'll work out. Probably," he adds as Wes glares at him.

Wes groans, seeing lights turn on downstairs as the car pulls to a stop. The front door opens, and Wes hunkers down in his seat.

The younger cop climbs out, pulls open the door. "Come on, kid. Gotta face the music sometime."

"I'd rather go to jail," Wes grumbles upon seeing both his mother and father in the doorway.

"Hey, Wes!" Wes urns, and Travis grins, winking "See you at school."

The warm flush that spreads through him almost makes up for the humiliation of being frog-marched up his front walk.

He doesn't pay attention as the cop uncuffs him, and he hardly notices the cop telling his parents what happened. He just thinks about that wink Travis gave him and all the kissing and See you at school, and he has to bite his lip to keep from making a stupid, goofy grin.

His parents lead him inside, radiating stern disapproval, but Wes looks back at the police car and thinks it was all worth it.

XXXX

Wes's father does not kill him. But he does ground him for a month. No phone, no going out, no seeing friends. And he's forbidden from seeing Travis. He's a bad influence, his father says, he'll only lead you into trouble.

But he can't keep Wes from school, and every day in the hall and the three classes they share, Wes sees Travis, and it brings back those delicious tingles over his skin. And when Travis smiles and winks, Wes completely forgets everything he's supposed to be doing.

If that's what trouble looks like, then maybe he wouldn't mind a little in his life.

XXXX

By the fifth rock, Wes can no longer ignore it. He pulls open the window with a sigh, glaring down.

"I'm not supposed to see you," he hisses, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough it (hopefully) won't wake his parents.

Travis pauses, poised to throw another pebble, and his grin is like a crescent of white light in the darkness. "Come on, Wes," the other boy cajoles, lowering his arm. "You gotta admit it was fun."

"Sure. Right up until I was arrested."

Travis's grin turns sly, and Wes can see the twinkle in his eye all the way up here. "Now, I don't know, I don't think it turned out so bad." He holds out a hand. "What do you say, Mitchell? What's life without a little risk?"

Wes glances over his shoulder, at the dark, silent house. He bits his lip, thinking it over, but he already knows what he's going to decide.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he grumbles, slinging his leg over the windowsill. He hears Travis's quiet whoop of triumph as he shimmies down the trellis, and he's got a matching grin by the time he hits the ground.

"Okay," Wes says, facing the other teen. "Lead on."

Travis grabs his hand and starts pulling him down the sidewalk. He doesn't say where they're going, but Wes looks at their joined hands and doesn't mind one bit.

XXXX

"Really? Didn't you learn a thing the last time?"

"Come on, Wes." Travis hoists himself up, and he's not looking down but Wes can hear the grin in his voice. "It'll be fine!"

"That's what you said the last time," Wes calls, but his mouth turns up a little.

"And that wasn't so bad, was it?" Travis slings his leg over the top of the fence and beams down at him. "I definitely enjoyed myself." He waggles his eyebrows. "You know you had fun too."

Wes rolls his eyes. "That's not a good reason to risk getting arrested."

"Come over the fence and I'll make out with you," Travis calls in a sing-song.

To which Wes rubs his hand over his face and sighs. "The things I do…" He hooks his fingers into the fence and hoists himself up. "I'm so going to regret this."

Travis is already waiting on the other side, smiling up at him. "You're gonna like this," he promises, holding out his hand. Stomach fluttering in a not-unpleasant way, Wes hops down and take it, allowing himself to be led.

Travis guides him to a grassy knoll overlooking the trainyard, gently tugging Wes down with him. "There aren't too many trains coming through this time of night," he explains, "but the midnight train should be going by soon."

"And until then?" Wes asks.

Travis shrugs. "I don't know. We can talk."

So they talk, about school and family and friends. They talk about the future, and the past, and everything in between. Wes confesses that he loves cooking and gardening; Travis says he wants to buy a motorcycle and go traveling when he graduates.

They talk for almost half an hour, getting closer and closer to one another, voices dropping the closer they get, until their shoulders are pressed together and they're speaking in little more than whispers.

"What do you think?" Travis finally asks. "Worth coming out?"

Wes turns his head. They're close enough it's only a few inches between their mouths. He leans in, happily closing the distance, and breathes, "Yes," against Travis's lips.

They make out as the midnight train rumbles by, the click-clack of the train rolling over the tracks mere background noise. Wes hardly even notices it's going until it's already gone and silence falls over the yard.

Travis pulls back, grinning dopily. "See?" he murmurs. "That wasn't so bad"

"It really wasn't," Wes agrees. "And no one got arrested, either, so there's that."

Travis sits back a little more, eyes going over Wes's shoulder, and his face shifts. "Um. About that."

Wes closes his eyes. "Let me guess."

Car doors slam behind him.

"Yup," Travis sighs. When Wes opens his eyes, the other teen's face is awash with blue and red flashing lights.

"I don't want to go to juvie, Travis," Wes says, in the sternest voice he can muster.

"Well then," Travis says, a slow grin creeping across his face. "I guess we'd better make a run for it."

He holds out his hand, and Wes reaches out to meet it. With a bark of laughter, Travis leaps to his feet, Wes right on his heels.

Later, seated in the back of another police car, Wes will remember to be annoyed. But right now, there's the grass beneath his feet and the wind on his face, the leonine grace as Travis tilts his head back and laughs in the strobing lights, and Wes just falls a little bit more.

OOOO

Hope you enjoyed. Until next time~!