Oh, yeah, I own nothing.
Ha, one-shot. Apparently, I'm a liar. I'm still learning Rachel, so if something rings untrue, please let me know.
Lu's advice stuck with Rachel over the next week. Lu was in from D.C. looking into the Barkley mess-he still hadn't been heard from- and Raylan was on a Drew Thompson tailspin with slight assistance from Tim, still avenging Mark's death. Art had watched Rachel hold the fort in Lexington for days before he went to her desk late one afternoon, "Take tomorrow off, alright? Tim can do it. His turn anyway," Art's kind gesture was interrupted as he glared at poor Deputy Nelson Dunlop, still the featured Marshal on Art's shit list. "Take a day. You've earned it."
"Really, Art. I'm fine, besides we're shorthanded with Raylan off."
"Raylan doesn't take days off when I tell him to, thought you'd have noticed. Ok, since he's supposed to be on leave, and you won't take time off when I tell you to YOU get to babysit him tomorrow."
Rachel's eyes widened, "You know he's going to hate that, Art. You really think he needs a babysitter?"
"Orders are orders, Tim'll hold down the fort, you're stuck with Raylan. Keep him out of trouble."
Rachel suppressed a smile as she recalled the last time she tagged along with Raylan, remembering the breeder and the cockfighting and his exceptionally mild tone when she'd hit the breeder with her baton. Babysitting Raylan would certainly be entertaining, even if it probably wouldn't give her an opportunity to "make him" see her that way.
Rachel spent too much time picking out her clothes. She knew it was stupid, knew she would probably settle on dark jeans, a dark blouse and a dark blazer, but she really like the idea of Raylan seeing her in, oh, I don't know, anything else.
She was ironing in front of an old movie when Lu knocked on the door, Chinese in hand today. "At Ole Miss, I never would have thought I'd eat as much in a day as I do in a meal now…" Lu stated wistfully as she started unloading the bags on Rachel's table. "Gonne be three hundred pounds before I'm thirty-five."
"Can't wait. I'd like to contribute a chocolate cake to the cause," Rachel quipped, eyeing the moo goo gai pan.
"Do you have one here, or do I need to run out and grab one while I can still move?" Lu said, completely serious.
Rachel laughed, it was like watching an old favorite movie, the way Lu didn't change. "Brownies are next to the fridge, beer inside. I have met you."
Lu grinned like a six-year-old, "That's why I love you, Rach. Always prepared." She retrieved the brownies and two beers, with plates and silverware for the takeout before saying, "What's with the ironing?"
Lips pursed, Rachel pondered lying for a millisecond, "I'm babysitting Raylan tomorrow. How's Barkley?"
"Crooked and, I'm thinkin' probably, dead. Babysitting Raylan… Sounds like a sitcom. Unhealthily smart kids, long-suffering wife, annoying neighbor sticking his nose in with unexpected wisdom… I'm seeing Jere Burns. Maybe Bruce Campbell."
"You still not over your crush on him?" Rachel gave up ironing and tucked in.
"I love the chin. What can I say?" Lu managed around an eggroll, with a swig of light beer. "You got the fried rice?"
Rachel passed it over, "Art was trying to give me the day off."
"And you passed in order to babysit your crush? That's not obvious at all."
"I know. High school Rachel is so ashamed of me right now." Rachel shook her head at herself, "I feel like I'm in high school. It's nuts."
Lu grinned, "It's awful that puberty hits in high school. Like Geometry wasn't enough."
Rachel stopped chewing to think about that angle, "You're right. Puberty should wait until college, then our parents couldn't watch our mistakes either."
"Oh, that would have been awesome," she stretched out the "awesome", "Not that my parents were around to watch them, but there were other witnesses I would have loved to lose."
"Daddy's chief of staff?"
"I dated my first biker just to get under his skin. It should have been my father's… What are you and Raylan doing tomorrow?"
"Dunno. I'll probably just wear jeans, anyway." She looked at the ironing, "Waste of time. Why do we bother?"
"We're idiots."
"Speak for yourself, blondie," Rachel shot back, reaching for a brownie.
"Usually do. How else do you think I get in so much shit?" Lu grinned, helping herself to more orange beef.
"I wish my daddy were a senator so I could rely on nepotism to keep my job." Rachel said wistfully, "Why do we think Barkley is crooked and dead?"
"I don't want to talk about Barkley being crooked and dead over my meal. I want to talk about sexy gunmen over my meal."
"Is he gross? Have you developed a weak stomach?" Rachel pushed delicately.
Lu scowled, "No, we haven't found him yet. Leads one to believe professionals are involved. Phone records indicate Detroit… You know he was in high school with Nicky Augustine?"
"I shudder to think who I was in high school with… or you," Rachel pointed out.
Lu rolled her eyes, "You and I don't keep throwaway cells in our cars so our mobster-former-classmates can get ahold of us… That I know of." She kept up a suspicious expression until Rachel offered her a potsticker, then she giggled.
"So, Barkley accuses Raylan of being in Boyd Crowder's pocket, while he's in Detroit's pocket? Bastard."
"Yup," Lu palmed a brownie, "But the fucker's dead, so there is some justice."
"You are an FBI agent," Rachel reminded.
"Right, and as an FBI agent, I am disgusted by the corruption displayed be members of Barkley's team and Barkley himself and, as a law enforcement professional, I do not endorse any criminal course of action. Is that technically correct enough for you, Rach?"
"Don't think it was wordy enough for Bureau standards, to be honest," Rachel sipped her beer.
"Well, like you said, I'm only there because of nepotism," Lu scarfed another brownie.