Harry/Wynonna: Old Wounds
@nowmakeyourpeace wrote here:
“Harry…” She said his name softly, reaching out to try and put a hand on his arm. The Heir was a moment too slow, watching as he slid off his stool to face–Honestly she didn’t even recall the guy’s name.
That’s how much of an impact he’d left on her.
Pretty sure he was one of the minute men though.
What’s-his-name looked amused at the display and grinned at Wynonna.
She rolled her eyes and ignored the flame of anger the words lit inside her. Typical dickbag behavior that wasn’t worth any sort of comment. She was used to it.
“I’ve ‘talked’ to her like that a few times before. Me and just about every guy in Shorty’s. But if you want to take your turn..” He made a gesture of acquiescence “Take that mouth for a spin. It’s good for more than just making up crazy shit.”
Harry narrowed his eyes as an old rage boiled up inside. He’d known there was bad blood between the people of Purgatory and Wynonna, but to be confronted, face to face, with this sort of vulgar contempt directed at his... at his friend made him want to let loose and burn the whole place to cinders, starting with this inbred ninnyhammer right here.
He knew what it was like to be the target of that kind of vitriol and derision.
Calm down, Harry. He took a slow breath, closing his eyes and counting to ten. This tendency to lash out, to act impulsively on emotion, to be driven by anger, was going to get him killed one of these days. Or worse, someone he cared about.
Opening his eyes, he looked down at Wynonna, and the look on her face set the fires burning again.
“Right,” he said, and followed the single word with a swing of his fist that drove straight towards the face of the smug asshole who had hurt Wynonna.
