Chapter Text
Max knew what he would find in the station. The moment he let Bea out of the jeep, she lifted her nose to the air, scenting and then darting out ahead of him to race to the doors of the Sheriff's Department. Max let out a sigh and walked to join his daemon.
Bea had never adjusted to the distance between him and Michael. Before the night that changed everything, they had grown used to seeing Michael every day, the other alien not just being his brother but also his best friend. But Max hadn't been the only one to lose their closest friend. He knew how much Bea missed Banjo (and honestly, so did he), but despite that, neither Max nor Michael could bring themselves to spend much time with the other. It was easier to forget what they had done when they were apart.
Bea understood that. She didn't like it, but she understood. Instead, the wolf daemon looked forward to the times they did still get to see Michael and Banjo, even if those times meant that the pair had been arrested. Whenever Michael ended up in custody, brought in for some minor offense, or sleeping off a night at The Wild Pony in the drunk tank, their daemons made the most of it.
There was an unspoken agreement between Max and Michael, to not mention how their daemons acted during these encounters. Bea behaved as if she was a young pup and not a fully grown Mexican Gray Wolf. The sheer amount of cuddling and open affection between the wolf and the raccoon would be embarrassing even without the emotional weight of why the two were so happy to see each other.
"Shake a leg, Max!"
His daemon's impatient voice snapped Max out of his thoughts, and he quickened his step to open the doors for her. Again the wolf took off, losing caution and separating farther from him than she should when they were in public. But it had been two months since the last time Michael and Banjo were brought in. Bea was eager to see them.
Entering the office, Bea rushed straight past their partner and fellow deputy Jenna Cameron to the temporary holding cells. Standing in the cell with her hands gripping the bars was Banjo. The medium-sized raccoon ran back and forth across the cell in anticipation at the sight of the wolf calling out, "Bea! Over here!" repeatedly until the other daemon was standing in front of the cell. Bea stood much taller than Banjo, the raccoon needing to stand up on her hind legs to reach the wolf's chest. Bea lowered her head and stuck her snout through the bars. The two daemons touched noses in greeting.
"Morning," Max said to Jenna, his eyes on the cell, noting Banjo and the figure sat leaning against the wall. Michael was dressed in his usual attire, the brim of his dark hat pulled down over his eyes, seemingly asleep.
Max turned to look at Jenna and her merlin daemon, Arnie. He raised a brow and nodded his head towards the cell. "What was it this time?" he asked.
Her response was cut off by Banjo's voice. "We were drunk!" the raccoon called out with far too much cheer and pride.
Jenna rolled her eyes, "They were drunk," she agreed.
"We got called out about a vagrant sleeping in the back of a truck. Turns out your buddy was smart enough not to drive drunk and decided to spend the night in the back of his pickup. Problem was he passed out in the wrong car," Jenna explained.
Max sighed loudly and looked back over at the drunk tank. Bea and Banjo were whispering to each other. The wolf laid out on the floor by the cell, her bushy tail wagging quickly in excitement while the smaller daemon leaned against the bars.
Jenna continued, "We got there and managed to get him up and out of the other guy's car. We would've driven them home, but Banjo over there insisted on coming back here to sleep it off. Seemed best to agree."
Max snorted and took off his hat, placing it on his desk.
Jenna stood. "Well, now that you're here. I'm just going to step out for a bit. Get some coffee. I'll leave this to you, Evans."
From his perch on the computer, Arnie looked between Max and the other daemons. The small falcon flapped his wings once as if in a shrug before taking off to land on Jenna's shoulder as she walked out the door. It fell shut behind them with a thud.
Max sat down at his desk and waited. Bea stood and backed up, putting space between herself and the cell. Her body was tense, the darker gray and black fur along her neck and back bristling in anticipation. After a minute, the cell door slowly opened on its own. Another second of quiet before a furry gray blur launched itself out and into the office area, crashing into Bea and sending the wolf rolling down across the floor.
Banjo giggled as she crawled over Bea, avoiding the wolf daemon's paws and playfully snapping jaws. Banjo's iron-gray coat and black ringed tail stood out against the grizzled blend of tan, black, gray, and brown of Bea's fur.
Max gave himself a few seconds to watch the two daemons wrestling happily. He appreciated the simple joy of their play, letting it remind him of the times when there was more between him and his brother than guilt, frustration, and worry.
Still, he had a job and responsibilities, and right now, both of them required him to talk to Michael.
Turning back to the drunk tank, he watched as Michael, no longer pretending to be asleep, sat up and stretched.
Do you know where your truck is?" he asked abruptly.
"Of course, I know where my truck is. Still parked at the Wild Pony, assuming DeLuca hasn't had it towed," Michael replied, his voice rough after a long night of drinking.
"Because you seemed to have a hard time finding it last night, although being fall-down drunk probably didn't help," Max couldn't help but snap in response.
"Who said anything about falling down? I walked easily to my pickup and laid down of my choice. Nothing illegal about a man sleeping in his own vehicle."
"Except it wasn't your truck Michael!"
"It was dark. If anyone should be blamed, it's DeLuca for having a poorly lit parking lot," Michael snarked.
"Michael-" Max started to reply but was cut off by Michael's loud exhale and tired voice interrupting him to say, "Look, let's just not. I'm too hungover for the lecture today. Save it for next time."
Max gave up. He was tired of this too, and at least this time, Michael hadn't gotten into a fight. He could pick his battles.
"Fine. You're free to go."
Michael stood up. "Wonderful." He started to leave the cell and turned to call Banjo when he noticed them.
The two daemons had settled down a bit, although their brief play had led to two knocked-over chairs and one overturned garbage bin. Bea lay on her side, occasionally wiggling her head to half-heartedly nip at the raccoon lying sprawled on top of her. Banjo, just as tired and hungover as Michael, had given up on wrestling entirely. She rested comfortably on top of the wolf, burying her face in the thick fur at Bea's nape.
Michael's lips twitched into a small smile at the sight of them.
"Actually, I still need to sleep it off a bit. Not for long. Just half an hour till I feel good enough to drive," Michael stated and then raised his voice to call out, "Right, Banjo? Just thirty minutes."
The raccoon didn't even lift her head to acknowledge him, though the lackluster wave of her hand in his direction let him know that she heard him. Bea, however, turned her head to him and gave him a toothy grin and wag of her tail, her amber eyes shining in gratitude.
Michael returned the smile briefly and turned back to Max, who had an amused smirk on his face as well. For a moment, it felt like the old days, before murder and secrets and so much bitterness filled up space between them.
But just for a moment. The smile slipped from Michael's face, and he stepped back into the cell. He could give the daemons half an hour. It would probably be a while before they saw each other again anyway.