Chapter Text
To put it simply, Detective Edward had left as fast as he came.
To Thompson, it seemed like only yesterday that the duo was zipping through town, rounding up all the bad guys and locking them away. In their miraculous fit of luck, almost rendering the town near spotless. Then going on to rescue Prince Matthew.
Only yesterday that he was mentoring the bright-eyed Detective with his many years of experience, as the town’s sheriff.
Nothing negative that Sheriff Thompson had to say deterred the man, but only encouraged him to prove Thompson wrong. The man had to say, it was one of his redeeming qualities. Trials and tribulations meant learning opportunities to Edward, Thompson would come to observe, and admire.
It probably the most exciting week of his life, in a very, very long time.
The sheriff is not it’s all cracked up to be, Thompson doesn’t like “playing hero”. It’s a hard job, it weighs on him, and Edward’s short visit rejuvenated him. Nonetheless, it's his personal obligation.
For a fleeting second-even though he knows it’s completely silly- Thompson imagined Edward staying in America, in the small town. He could see them sitting at ‘A Good Place To Start’, after a long day of cases together, liquor and a cola side by side.
Just talking, about Sheriff and Detective duties. Imagining witnessing the young Detective blossom into experience, made Thompson feel something.
Yes, Edward would blossom, not compress into the duty of a Detective.
To know that there were still people like Detective Edward, with hearts like his, made him feel less hopeless. Despite his numerous eye rolls over that week at Edward’s positive, hopeful responses to his pessimistic remarks- it was a fondly met fresh perspective. Though he’d never admit it.
But now the jump start in Thompson’s veins had left with Edward back to England, with his hopes and wildest dreams he’d never share.
Now all that left was a hollow shell, ready to revert back to the way life has always been, and always will be.
Waking up, drinking, eating, drinking, sleeping, and repeat.
At least Edward kept his promise to write.
Edward’s letters were like a light at the end of a tunnel for Thompson.
The young detective would ask him how things were, for advice, or just talk about meaningless things.
Besides living in his liquor, the letters were something he had to look forward to.
Honestly, he would argue things got even worse when Edward left. Before him, he was at least busy with the town. Unfortunately, since the town was cleaned up, there wasn’t jack shit to do.
Well, there was one thing to do...
—————
The door to Sheriff Thompson’s mess of an office swung open with a thud, promptly swirling dust into the air with it.
The man coughed, and swat it away as he approached his work desk. He let out a heavy sigh, idly tracing his fingers along the raggedy wooden surface. The padded swivel chair creaked as Thompson put his weight onto it, then slid forward with his knees under the desk.
Sheriff had to forcefully open the desk drawer containing a record of cases, some he put together himself, others reports from detectives that worked in the building.
He huffed, annoyed at the disarray of papers he had to sort through.
Finally, the sheriff came across the top-secret file he sought:
“TOP SECRET RED BANDIT CASE FILE” is what the file read, in bright red letters. Thompson traced them, then opened the file.
——
“What? One does not re-open the Red Bandit case out of sheer boredom.”
Sheriff Thompson was now walking alongside his coworker, Laura. He had told her about his plan to put the years-old case to rest.
“It’s nothin’ but the truth, I ain’t got anything else to do.” Thompson shrugged simply.
“Huh,” the woman muttered, “Well, good luck. You’re gonna need it.” Thompson smiled as they stopped at ‘A Good Place To Start.’
Thompson took a beat, then kicked the dirt. “You comin’?” Curt, per usual, no need to make things awkward.
“Aw shucks, I would, but I’ve got some errands to run.”
Oh.
“Alright.” Thompson adjusted his tall hat, and just like that, he was alone. Also per usual.
Sheriff Thompson entered the saloon for probably the thousandth time, eyes adjusting to the considerably less bright building.
He took off his hat, boots thumping along the wood as he found his favorite seat at the bar.
It was quiet, noticeably spare of customers, and warm.
Just how he liked it. Thompson was always a day drinker, he’d never come to ole Good Place at night. Mostly cause he’d be tied up with paperwork, and no one to go with. So what’s the point?
“The usual?” The barkeep muttered behind his mustache, grabbing a glass mug. Sheriff gave him a curt nod in response.
The man watched as the beer splashed into the glass, the sunlight flittering in from behind the doors illuminated the glass in a dazzling shine.
The Barkeep traded the glass with Thompson’s money, pocketing it. “Thanks.” Thompson grunted, bringing the glass to his mouth. The barkeep continued cleaning glasses.
He thought back to Edward as the familiar burn settled in his stomach, suddenly drinking alone wasn’t so comforting. Thompson found his eyes wandering to the barkeep, and his name tag.
‘Todd’
“Todd.” Thompson tried it on his tongue, it was fitting. The barkeep stopped, looking at Thompson quizzically. “...yes?”
Sheriff Thompson stilled, burying his face in his cup. “Nothing, just didn’ know your name was Todd.”
“We’ve had this same routine for months, and you never bothered to look at my name tag?” Tord’s tone wasn’t flat, no...Thompson couldn’t put his finger on it.
The sheriff scoffed a laugh, shrugging. The barkeep- Todd- had a point. “I guess I was too distracted?”
“Ha. Well, I know your name.”
“Why wouldn’ you? I’m the Sheriff.” Thompson straightened.
Todd rolled his eyes in good nature. “Obviously, your majesty, I meant it as a matter-of-fact thing.” Teasingly, that was the word.
Thompson laughed.
Todd continued cleaning his glasses. Thompson looked at Todd when his laughter dispersed, then to the stage in the far left of the building.
“What’s the stage for?” Thompson asked, resting his cheek on his palm. That wasn’t a stupid question, right? To be fair, Thompson has never seen it be used.
Todd’s grey eyes had a glint in them, and he smiled. “Come tonight and find out.”
Thompson was tingling with curiosity, and sat up. “...Okay.” He replied, awe-like.
And that was that.
——-
Thompson hadn’t scrubbed so hard in his life.
Not to mention the man didn’t bathe as often as the average person, but would never let himself go out in public with a noticeable smell.
No, he’s too self-conscious about that. A little cologne was an easy fix.
But tonight was a special occasion, (in which Tom is known to bathe rigorously) he was going to ‘A Good Place To Start’ for the first time at night. His motive was to find out what the stage was for.
Plus, Todd invited him, so why not?
After nearly scrapping off his skin with soap and water, along with putting an actual effort into what he wore, he stood in front of his dresser mirror.
Yet, he still looked like shit.
His eye bags weigh heavy under his dark eyes, his hair a mess bare without his hat, and his damn eyepatch was ruining the whole look.
Thompson didn’t even feel like he was looking at himself, it never felt real.
The man glanced at his comb, and the birthday gift hair gel he never used from Laura. “I’m trying new things tonight, why not?” He muttered as he examined the gift in his hands.
At first, he tried a middle part, then quickly decided that was not a good idea. Then came a side part, a lot of slicking, and voilà!
He finally looked less of a hot mess, he was ready. Thompson took the pocket watch out of his breast pocket, right on time.
It was a cool night, Thompson adjusted his vest that was snug against his chest. Possibly a size too small, considering it was the only nice thing he owned, which he’s had as long as he could remember.
His footsteps were brisk, ignoring the couples he passed. Who knew the town would get so lively at night? Certainly not Thompson.
By the time the man got to the entrance of the bar, he wanted scamper home with his tail between his legs.
Why did he agree to this? Was he thinking he could actually enjoy this? Why in the world is he wearing hair gel?
He felt like a fool, yes, a damn desperate fool who was sure to embarrass himself tonight.
Thompson stood there, eyes wide and breath a puff of cloud. Yet, he couldn’t will himself to turn back. After all, he already dressed up all nice.
The man pushed past the swinging doors and was sent reeling.
The bar was teaming with life and energy, clumps of people scattered along the building busy with talking. Their conversations were loud and coming into his ears all at once. Drinks were passed around, music soft in the background.
The new sights and smells were overwhelming Thompson, he could hardly focus. Before he knew it he was turning around, around smack into Todd’s chest.
Todd instinctively grabbed Thompson’s arms to steady himself.
“Sheriff?”
“Todd.” It came out pitched.
The image of Thompson finally was settling into Todd’s eyes with a long look, and he smiled.
Thompson took note of the gap, now that they were so close.
“Wow, look at ya,” Todd said, hands falling from Thompson’s arms.
Thompson averted his eyes, anywhere he could, and cleared his throat. There was no way Todd wasn’t mocking him, and why wouldn’t he? Thompson had never felt so stupid in his life.
“They say gals like a man in uniform, but gee whiz! I wasn’t expecting you to come with such razzle-dazzle.” Todd commented, guiding Thompson through the crowd with a hand on the man’s back.
Thompson’s nerves were soothed, and his face upturned. “Oh.” Was all he managed to say.
They go to the bar, which other people were attending. It clicked in Thompson’s brain why the barkeep was freely roaming, which was unusual.
Todd caught his expression, “We get real busy at night, busy booms.” He explained smoothly, making the two a drink of beer.
“Thanks.” Thompson reached for his pocket, but Todd stopped him with his hand. “On me, cheers.” Todd raised his glass with a warm smile.
“..Cheers.” Thompson found himself relaxing.
Clank
He should talk, say something. Show that he can hold an interesting conversation.
Before he could even breathe, the lights when dead, and he could barely see.
Todd’s laugh rang out through the dark at Thompson’s startle, and the man was glaring in embarrassment.
“What gives?” He huffed, suddenly aware of how scrunched the space was now.
“You asked about the stage, didn’t ya?” Todd retorted, Thompson smelled the beer on his breath.
As if on cue, the lights lining the stage lit up and music increased tempo. The building was now dim, except for the bright bulbs illuminating the slim figures strutting onto stage.
Cheers roared from the crowd at the saloon girls coming to the edge to greet that ‘enthusiastic’ patrons.
Their corsets clung to their waist, a single leg peeking out from under the ruffles of their dress and their faces painted with makeup.
The whistles started flying as the girls danced to the music proactively.
Thompson’s cheeks started getting warm, and he glanced at the illuminated face of Todd smiling.
When the man realized the Sheriff wasn’t smiling, he looked perplexed. “What man wouldn’t grin at the sight of that?” It was light-hearted, but Thompson didn’t respond.
He tried awkwardly to start a conversation, “Saloon girls, I would’ve never guessed.” He commented.
“I’m full of surprises.”
“So, these are your girls?” That didn’t exactly come out the way Thompson intended, and made him more embarrassed.
“They work for me, yes.” Todd said with a soft chuckle. “We’re like a family, we have fond memories backstage. They trust me.”
Well, it was soothing to know Todd wasn’t a pervert.
“Let’s find somewhere a little quieter to talk,” Todd stated more than asking, grabbing Thompson’s arm to lead him to an entrance that he didn’t know where to.
They stood together in it, looking at each other.
“Fond memories?” Thompson repeated, eyebrows furrowing.
“Like,” Todd started, “Jokes and drinks together, dinners, celebrations, you know. A lot of these girls are from the streets and have nowhere to turn. I take them under my wing if they want.”
Thompson had to admit, he was growing to admire Todd. “I do that with my colleagues. Especially the new ones.” The Sheriff tacked on, hand gliding over his shiny hair.
“To being charitable!” Todd remarked cheerily, clinking their glasses together. Thompson let out a small laugh.
They drank, and the beer was cool against Thompson’s warm lips.
The performance far off from them was closing, but the music was fading. It was still lively, now causing people to cluster to the dance floor.
Todd’s eyes suddenly shined, and he smirked, gap and gums.
Thompson understood right away, “Oh no, no, I-“ yet he was being dragged to the dance floor anyway, the Sheriff felt his stomach twisting.
What was he supposed to do, say no? Thompson focused on Todd’s encouraging smile, and let the man take the lead.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, ‘I don’ dance.’ Everyone dances.” After a saliva filled raspberry, Thompson realized Todd was probably on his way to being toasted.
Oh, how he envied the man.
“I suppose you’re right,” Thompson said, voice tight as bodies were moving around him. “Just follow the music,” Todd said simply, already swaying with energy.
Instead, Thompson followed Todd, grateful for the alcohol settling in and allowing him to relax. Maybe it wasn’t so hard after all.
Everything was slowing down, people were twirling around him, with Todd’s bright smile at the center. Thompson had a jump in his veins, now his feet were alive and moving, and his own face was twisting up with glee.
A night to remember, Thompson decided.