Unusual Hobbies
Fandom: 2001 Maniacs
Pairings: Hinted Mayor Buckman x female reader
Word Count: 2,838
Warnings: Death, the movie itself, and Buckman count
Author's Note: Another Buckman piece! And the second of the day because I couldn't wait. This one wouldn't exist without @tinalbion . Not only did I receive amazing encouragement, but I was also given the blessing to write this based on her work. Find it right here, and please go read, follow, and reblog. I will continue to shout her praises from the rooftops to the end of time.
Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta
Having grown up on a farm, you weren't a stranger to hard work. Everyone did their part, pulled their weight. It was how it had always been. For generations back. You remembered listening to your father talk about it and rolling your eyes when you were younger. There was only so much one could take of listening to how Grandpa Thomas had worked for his father and so on, with the farm being passed down.
It was just you and your brother to help out your parents. It meant that you weren't treated any differently from him. Whatever he had to do, you had to do as well. Not that you ever minded. It was nice to be on evening footing. Especially since your brother was a troublemaker and a pain in the ass. He rarely, if ever, got away with anything because he wasn't special like you had seen happen with some families.
The farm was fairly self-sufficient. The land provided almost all of the food that you needed. Veggies, fruit, and meat. From an early age, you and your brother were taught how to hunt. It wasn't a game. It wasn't for trophies. It was for survival. And you treated it as such.
You were a far better shot than your brother, something that caught your father's attention. A shared hobby for both of you as he helped hone in your skills. He taught you all he knew, having done trick shots himself. It was good quality time for the two of you outside all of the work that came with running the family farm. You won a few local competitions, and it almost got to the point that you were getting some interest to do it professionally, but honestly, that had never really been your interest. As much as you enjoyed it, you wanted it to remain that. Enjoyable. Moving to doing it professionally would have taken that away. It would become too serious.
That didn't mean that you had an idea of what you wanted to do with your life. And there wasn't a whole lot of extra money going around to be able to send you off to college or anything like that. Neither of your parents pushed. They liked having you around and helping on the farm. None of it really mattered when the house burned down and you lost everyone and everything that you had ever known. All it took was one small instance, and your life was forever changed.
The insurance money that came in didn't mean much to you. What were you supposed to do with it? Money didn't replace your family. It only numbed things for so long. There was no amount of traveling, fine dining, or purchases that could be made that would ease the pain that you had suffered. It had allowed you to travel, though, the only thing that kept you from going insane if you were honest. The constant moving along with the need for focus, if only to know where you were going, what you were doing, where you would be staying, was a helpful distraction. Not foolproof, but enough that you could at least move through life without it feeling like everything was crumbling down around you and everything else was pointless.
Aimless. The travel and wandering were fairly aimless. All until you came across a small place down in Georgia. Pleasant Valley. Now, things had been a little crazy in your life but the last thing that you had ever expected to come across were a bunch of cannibalistic Civil War ghosts that were stuck to their homes due to tragedy. Torn away from their lives, any friends or family that hadn't been in town that fateful day, everything that they had ever known. While their tragedy was far worse than your own, it was more relatable than just about anything that you had come across since you had lost your family. In an odd way, it almost felt like you were meant to find the place. Whether they felt that way or not took quite some time to figure out.
You had earned your place in Pleasant Valley by accident, really. Clueless as to what was really going on, you had seen one of the guys that had stopped into town shortly before you holding Granny Boone at knife point. It had happened without a lot of thought, an almost knee-jerk reaction that you had never had before, but you couldn't stand the thought of seeing the older woman hurt. The man was spouting babble, though you hardly paid much attention. Something about his friends dying since coming to the quiet town.
Sure, it was backwards. More than you really cared to think about. But it was nice. The people were pleasant. It was quiet. Here, there weren't thoughts of your family that plagued you night and day. So, it was almost on instinct when you pulled your gun and shot at the man. The first thing that you had actually shot another human. There was no ringing in your ears, no concern about what would come after that. Especially as eyes turned to you and wide grins appeared on faces. That was when you realized things were a little more off than even you had realized when it came to Pleasant Valley.
Granny Boone and Mayor Buckman had pulled you to the side after that, trying to make a determination if you were going to be allowed to stay or if you were going to join the man and his friends. Not something that you realized when they had pulled you into the hotel, under the guise of making sure that you didn’t go into shock. Calm, you had remained calm through it all, even surprising yourself. The man needed to be stopped, and if that required you to kill him to do so, then it was what it was.
*************
Things had drastically changed for you from then on. You had gone from wandering aimlessly and not having a place of your own to suddenly having another place where you belonged. Even if you were slightly out of time and place among the others. While Granny Boone had not needed the protection, it had earned some favor among most of the town that you had done so without thought of the consequences. And it only grew the longer that you stayed and the less they seemed to have to worry that you were going to cause any trouble. Could you have? You didn't know. Nothing seemed to truly affect the ghosts. They were beings around you, ones that you could physically touch and interact with, but any physical harm seemed to do no damage. They moved on as if nothing had happened. You supposed that was a good thing, meaning when others came to Pleasant Valley, you really only needed to worry about yourself. Not that you wouldn't defend them when the moment was called for. The town was a fucked up family but in the end, it was the fucked up family that you had been adopted into, and ghosts or not, you didn't want to see anything happen to them.
It had taken some time to find a rhythm. Not like there was a lot of experience out there to go off of now that you had found yourself living among ghosts in a town that technically didn't really exist? At least not as a town anymore. But, eventually, you managed. Surprisingly, or maybe it shouldn't have been all that surprising, it was Buckman that made things easier. Saving Boone had apparently gained you more favor with him than anyone else. He had a charm about him, that much was obvious. Even when he wasn't putting on an act for anyone coming through. Natural charisma, that was what made the sometimes boisterous attitude tolerable when compared to anyone else.
“So, you never explained to any of us how you got so good with that gun of yours.” They didn't know half of it, having only seen you shoot a handful of times, and only when there was a person to aim it at. The two of you were relaxing out behind the barns, overlooking an empty field. Some food and drink sat between you both. His reasoning for the impromptu picnic? Getting to know the newest member of the town better. The reasoning didn't matter all that much to you. It was a real meal and a moment to relax. Something that you found yourself doing more and more while here in Pleasant Valley. It was funny how you would feel at ease and comfortable around a bunch of ghosts that routinely killed and ate people. “Not something that many women know how to do.” Right. Another reminder of how different the lives that you had led were.
“Well,” you started off slowly. The memories of your family were still painful. Surely, something that he would understand. Buckman was silent next to you, watching and waiting patiently. “I grew up on a farm. It was my brother, my parents, and I. It was always all hands on deck, doing everything around the farm. Didn't matter who you were. You could do every job to keep the place running if someone was ill or out of commission for any reason. It kept costs down, not having to hire help. And honestly? It was a point of pride that we ran it on our own since the farm had been in my family for generations.” Buckman nodded, not saying anything to allow you a second to gather yourself. A few seconds passed without another word spoken. You shook your head and were able to continue after another moment.
“Being self-sufficient meant that we also hunted for our meat. My father taught my brother and I when we were young. It was a matter of ensuring that there was always food on the table.” A smile came to your face finally. “Turned out I was a better shot than my brother. By a long shot. Hunting became a shared activity. But, my father was also a marksman. He taught me everything that he knew. Honestly, they are some of my best memories. Standing out in the middle of a field like this, shooting tin cans off a stump or a fence.” It wasn't a lie. Those were some of the best memories of your childhood. Carefree, happy.
“Sounds like it was a good time for the both of you.” You risked a glance at Buckman, noting that the man seemed to be in thought after that comment. It was not something that you wanted to press.
*********************************
“I don't know….” Harper hummed out. You rolled your eyes as he acted as if he didn't already know how he was going to respond.
“Respectfully, we both know that's bullshit,” you offered back, swallowing down the laugh that wanted to come with the words. The corners of his lips twitched, obvious that he was trying to fight a smile himself. Before anything further could be said, there was a hollar of your name. Buckman. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the man hurrying up to the both of you. He looked pleased with himself, a broad smile on his face. Harper took a step back, greeting the man with a warm hello and smile of his own.
“Been looking all over for you this morning, sweetheart.” That was news to you. Especially since you were under the impression that he had a lot of things to do today. What was there for a mayor of a ghost town to do? You had no idea but didn't question either. There were a lot of things that you didn't bother questioning since this had become your home. It wasn't worth trying to figure out. While you knew it would come to an end one day, after all that was what they were pushing for, an ending to all of this. Peace. You pushed the rapidly spiraling thoughts away the best that you could and turned to face the man fully as he came to a stop beside you.
“And to what do I owe the honor today?”
“I'm not interrupting anything, am I?” There was a note to his voice that meant something else was underlying. But it wasn't anything you could place right away.
“Not at all, sir. we were just finishing up our conversation.” You weren't anywhere close to the end of the conversation, but you had to let it go for now, shooting the man a look as if to say that this wasn't over. Nothing else could be said, though, as he walked away, leaving you with Buckman and whatever plans that he had for the day.
“That boy could sweet talk his way out of anything.” Buckman sucked in a breath for a moment before his eyes found you once more.
“And he knows it too, which is the problem.” A laugh accompanied the words. “Well, I guess I should apologize to have you running around town all morning looking for me.”
“Nonsense, sweetheart. You aren't prisoner to any one place here.” The comment would have sounded ridiculous to anyone on the outside. Leaving meant risking, not finding them again. But at the same time, no one had forced you to stay, and you had free reign to move about as you pleased. Really, you were less of a prisoner to Pleasant Valley than they were. “Besides, not finding you right away ended up giving some of that weather time to pass. Gives us a nice afternoon. Shall we?” He hadn't been clear on what you were going to do or why he had been looking for you, but it wasn't worth asking right then. There was something on his mind, and it was better to just go along with things, figuring it out as they came. Made life a little more adventurous, and the man beside you did like to be mum when he felt the moment called for it.
Walking arm and arm with the man through town, you could appreciate the quiet that settled over everything. There wasn't any sort of anticipation or need running through town since it wasn't time for the annual jubilee. A gentle breeze blew through after the storms overnight and overhang that remained this morning.
“Silly question, but I do have to ask, my dear. Do you have your pistol on you?” It was a silly question. You didn't go anywhere without it. The weapon was practically glued to your side even as you slept now that you lived in Pleasant Valley. Never knew when it may be needed at a moments notice.
“Yes, I do.”
“So I thought.” There was a smile in the words. You could hear it without needing to see it.
“And are you going to tell me why you are asking?” He did laugh at that, his hand gently patting your own that was resting in the crook of his arm.
“Now, that would ruin the surprise.” Surprise? What did this man have up his sleeve?
It took a few minutes, but he had led you back to that clearing out behind the barns. Away from town and others. Just the two of you once more. It didn't take long for you to realize what the surprise was. The field wasn't empty as it had once been. There were some cans and such setup midway out into the field. A shooting gallery, as only Pleasant Valley could provide.
“Ain't all that much but…” Buckman seemed a little uncharacteristically hesitant and unsure. Only a brief passing second before he was back to himself. “Call me curious, but I wanted to see exactly what ya can do with that gun of yours.” Oh, he wanted a show? You could give him a show.
“So this is all for me?” Impulsively, you leaned over and kissed his cheek as you slipped your gun from its holster. One smooth pull of the trigger as your head turned back to the challenge in front of you and the can went flying off its perch. Then, you swapped hands and shot with the same accuracy, and another can hit the ground. It was a rhythm, something easy to find and get lost in, rolling back the years and bringing you right back to your childhood where you were standing with your father and he was teaching you each and every one of the shots that you were making.
Buckman watched you more than the shots, a smile on his face. The enjoyment in the activity was obvious, and he patted himself on the pack for managing to do something like this for you. It may have been simple, but it was obvious the right choice with the small laughter that came from you. Even if every shot that you made as you moved about was impressive, it was you that was more so.
