Happy Thedas Weekend! You up for some Rhela/Gelduran cowboy AU goodness? Perhaps the prompt, "I don't think your intentions are honourable."
I am always happy to provide some Rhéla and Geldauran nonsense. :)
@thedasweekend Ostagar Man @ AO3
It was a very rare day in Ostagar: the sun way out but not scorching, the breeze from the plains kept the air temperate, and both Rhéla and Geldauran had the day off.
Another first - Rhéla was driving. His truck, of course.
When they hopped inside, did he have to wait approximately 5 minutes for her to scoot the seat to a spot where her feet could reach the pedals? Absolutely. Did he mind it? Not so much.
Somehow she had managed to look at him both sheepishly and appropriately annoyed as the seat’s motor made that steady brrr while moving forward toward the steering wheel.
And yeah, it was worth every second.
Once those short - and did he mention, very attractive? - legs were able to press down the clutch, they were on their way.
Rhéla’s mood shifted after her annoyance. Geldauran understood her quite well, he liked to think, and he watched as her shoulders relaxed under her t-shirt. A deep breath. With the windows down, the wind kicked up her hair, the soft curls floating around her head as they sped toward the edge of the city.
Geldauran himself had sunk deep into the leather seat. A treat. His hand dangled out the window, hat tilted just enough to keep the sun from blinding him. He did not know their destination, though that wasn’t really the point.
No plan. No work. Just time spent together without the weight of their badges.
A quick glance down between them as he watched her shift gears. His attention drifted slowly to her hand tapping on the steering wheel, in time with whatever low country song that murmured through the radio. A brief thought of how nice something shiny would look on that 4th finger.
Not quite the time to lose himself in those thoughts, he reminded himself. Drumming his fingers where they rested on the open window.
They weren’t too far from the county line as they passed what appeared to be an older patrol car sitting next to a telephone pole. One of those that Hafter had decommissioned over the years - they were built like tanks and had a decent get-up-and-go but became far too expensive to maintain when Orzammar stopped making parts for them.
Geldauran barely gave it a second thought, that is, until the siren wailed behind them.
With a quirked brow, Rhéla met his eyes briefly from behind her glasses. The quiet click of the indicator as she pulled off the road. The trucks wheels kicked up dust as they came to a stop, engine warm and ticking as it settled under the Ostagar sun. The patrol car pulled up close behind them lights flashing but the siren now silent.
Rhéla glanced up in the rear view mirror, “Don’t think that’s one of ours.”
“Why do you say that, Rhey?”
A quiet huff, “Well, pretty sure that ‘Ostagar’ is spelt wrong, for one.” Sure enough, Geldauran dipped his head to look in the side mirror, and in big bold letters was OSTEGAR. When the Deputy stepped out of his car, he adjusted his belt. Male. Human. He wore the out of date beige and brown uniforms that Geldauran had transition the department from last year. They even wore the stupid-looking campaign hat with the tassels.
“And -” she continued, “he’s got the beige and browns we used to wear.” Clearly noticing the same warning signs that Geldauran had. A small tug at the edge of her lips revealed her usual crooked smirk was particularly amusing - or someone was being particularly stupid.
A brief look passed between the Sheriff and Undersheriff with a nod of silent agreement.
“License and registration, ma’am.”
The Deputy stood there with his thumbs in his belt like he watched far too many cop shows in preparation for this role. Rhéla squinted at him through her sunglasses, she could feel Geldauran sink lower into the seat, arms crossed and letting her handle it.
She didn’t recognize the Deputy, and while Hafter County wasn’t exactly small, she had made an effort to at least learn as many names a possible. From the name tag on his shirt, it said ALERION. Unless he married into a clan - unlikely - that was certainly not his name. His badge was missing its badge number to identify himself.
Though, at least Ostagar was spelt correctly this time.
Rhéla’s attention dropped to his belt. Handcuffs in the wrong location, the gun was clearly fake by the bright orange ring poking out from the end of the barrel, and the holster itself was not standard issue. By the Void, was this man even trying?
A sound escaped from the back of her throat - some bizarre mixture of disbelief and utter amusement at how idiotic this man was. With her sweetest voice, she handed him her license and registration. Placing her sunglasses on the top of her head so she could bat those eyes at him.
“What’s the problem, officer?”
Geldauran huffed behind her. She could just about feel the smirk that radiated off the elf. If she weren’t trying to get the fake Deputy to mess up, she might’ve slapped Geldauran’s arm.
“You were speeding a ways back. Mind stepping out of the vehicle?”
Oh, she didn’t like that. A brief glance to Geldauran who merely nodded, she slipped out of the car and heard the faint click of Geldauran’s seatbelt unbuckling. A flash of his phone screen reflecting light as he typed a message.
The Deputy gestured vaguely to the front of the truck. “Place your hands on the hood of the vehicle ma’am.”
Rhéla wasn’t sure if the man was going to try to cop a feel or was just feeling particularly racist. Maybe it was the power trip. Either way, she was not going to play around.
Before he could even put his hands on her, Geldauran appeared, hat tipped back enough for Rhéla to see those green eyes flashing with something it didn’t do often - anger. He grabbed the Deputy by the wrist and spun him, slamming him onto the hood of the car as he pulled out his own cuffs.
“Well, Katie Mae got back to me and seems as though that patrol car our friend’s got? Was stolen from the salvage yard. And I got a feelin’ that this man’s intentions aren’t so honorable. Is that right?” He asked the man as the handcuffs clicked around their wrists.
The Deputy let out a grunt, face pressed against the hood.
Rhéla snorted, “Looks like real bad luck, pulling over the Sheriff on his day off. Was really lookin’ forward to the beach, Geldy.”
Geldauran gave her that stupidly charming smile, the one that made something in her stomach flip just a little and her heart beat faster, “Now, now, sugar. We’ll get to the beach. I always keep my promises.”
