The Ram

By Ruby

 

Rating/Warning: PG-13 Language

Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven is owned by Trilogy, Mirish and MGM. No money is being made. This fanfic is purely for entertainment purposes

AU: ATF - Thanks, Mog! :)

Author's Notes: It's just silliness, please don't take anything in it seriously. Thanks to Mog for starting the ATF/AU. A huge thank you to my Mom who helped me a lot with this story. Please let me know what you think. :)

Feedback is always greatly appreciated and wanted and needed. Please let me know what you think. Thank you, Ruby :)

 

The Ram
By: Ruby

Buck was not comfortable. His large frame was crammed tightly into the back seat of Chris Larabee's Dodge Ram.

Six ATF agents filled the truck. Chris drove while JD Dunne rested in the reclined passenger seat. Ezra Standish sat between the two, bemoaning the fact that his expensive suit was suffering from permanent wrinkles.

Buck was sitting directly behind Chris with Vin next to him and Josiah on the far side of the seat. JD's seat tilted back as it was, definitely encroached on the large agent's personal space, but as of yet he hadn't been complaining.

They were bringing JD back from the hospital. A bust that afternoon had gone sour, resulting in the injury of their youngest. JD had been quickly released, after being looked over by a doctor and diagnosed with a slight concussion and a twisted ankle.

When the agents walked out of the hospital to get into their vehicles, they found that Josiah's Suburban wouldn't start. Since Buck and Ezra had ridden to the hospital with him, all three of them now needed a ride. Chris and Vin were already climbing into the Ram with JD when the three men walked over.

Chris looked at the three agents, then glanced at the back seat of his truck. He shook his head. With his eyebrows raised, he asked incredulously, "You all ridin' in here?"

Ezra backed away after taking a look at how much legroom was in the back seat. "I think I'll call a cab, Mr. Lar-"

"Just get in the truck, Brother Ezra!" Josiah interrupted the southerner, pushing him towards the truck.

Chris stepped back, allowing Buck to push the driver's seat forward so he could climb inside. He tried to hide his smile when the tall agent got caught on the seat belt he was trying to crawl under. Wilmington started cursing under his breath, sounding very much like Yosemite Sam in the old cartoons. "Raggin', fraggin', son-of-a-bitchin'..." Finally he got unstuck and pulled himself into the truck, then let out another curse when he hit his head on the roof.

Vin, being nimble and not as tall as Buck, didn't have as much trouble getting into the back of the truck from the passenger side. The problem was, he got in right as Buck was trying to sit down and the two men clunked heads loudly.

"God dammit all to hell..." Vin hissed in his soft Texas drawl, while holding his head in his hands.

Buck was rubbing his head, "Raggin', fraggin', son of a..."

Josiah chuckled at the two men as he followed Vin. The large agent's entrance into the truck was just as funny as Buck's, but wisely, the others decided that laughing at the behemoth wouldn't be in their best interests.

JD had initially argued about sitting in the front seat, wanting to be in the back where he'd fit better and leaving the front seat for one of his larger friends. But Chris made it clear that he wanted JD sitting up front where he could relax and have more room.

Ezra helped JD climb inside the truck and up into his seat. Grabbing the seatbelt, he pulled it around JD, clicking it into place. Quietly, the southerner asked the young agent if he was comfortable. After receiving a nod and a soft 'yes' from him, Ezra stepped back, locked the door and shut it.

"He sure would make a good mom," Vin drawled sardonically. Buck busted out laughing, instantly forgetting about his injured head. Chris had to frown to keep his smile from showing so Ezra didn't see it when he walked up.

Ezra walked around the truck and then up to the open door. Chris stepped back to give him room to climb inside. Standish put one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the back of the driver's seat. He started to pull himself up, when suddenly he stopped. With narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, he looked inside at the place where he was supposed to sit. He backed away from the truck. Turning around, he pulled on his suit coat sleeve and dusted off some lint before looking up at Chris with a cocked head and squinted eyes.

Chris looked down, grinning. He could actually hear what the southerner was thinking in his head. 'I am *not* getting in there. No, absolutely not. There won't be any room for escape should Mr. Larabee decide to suddenly turn into a monster and try to eat me.'

Well, ok, maybe that wasn't what the younger man was thinking, but Chris was just remembering the scene of the two men on the cross country journey that was in the Twilight Zone Movie he'd seen a couple nights ago. He had a sadistically evil grin on his face when he looked up to find Ezra watching him, warily, with his mouth open, like he was about to speak, but couldn't.

"Get in the truck, Ezra."

"Mr. Larabee-"

"Ezra, get in the God damned truck."

"But,"

"Ezra!"

Standish turned and climbed inside.

While maneuvering around the steering wheel, Ezra's feet got tangled together and he lost his balance. For a fleeting moment it looked like he was going to take a header into the back seat.

Chris couldn't help the wry laugh that escaped him.

The looks on Vin and Ezra's faces! Vin, with a shocked expression, stared wide-eyed at the falling southerner, putting his hands up, as if he could catch him. Ezra had that look on his face that you get the second you realize that you've just tipped your chair too far backwards. Somehow he grabbed onto the rear-view mirror to keep from falling. As soon as Ezra regained his balance, both he and Vin put their 'stoic' masks back on. As if they hadn't just been doing a wonderful impersonation of an old Laurel and Hardy episode.

When Ezra was finally facing forward in his seat, wearing his seat belt, and with his 'cooler than God' expression once again planted firmly on his face, Chris climbed up into his seat. He fumbled with his seatbelt for a few seconds, obviously making Ezra very uncomfortable with where his hand was.

*****

They'd been riding in the truck for at least half an hour. They were caught in a traffic jam in downtown Denver.

"There's just not...," Buck pushed hard against the seat in front of him, "enough room...back here." He was rewarded by a glare from Larabee in the rearview mirror. "Hey Chris, why don't you get one of those new Rams with the suicide door? Be lots more room fer us back here."

Chris once again used the mirror to glare at his oldest friend, then turned his attention back to the road. " 'Cause I like my truck, Buck. It's a good truck and there's plenty of room back there."

"Yeah, you've never ridden back here, pard," Buck harrumphed under his breath.

"What was that, Wilmington?"

"Nothing." Buck sat back in his his seat, pouting. He glanced over at Vin. The sharpshooter was resting with his head back against the window. His eyes were closed and Buck wondered how in the heck he could sleep like that. Suddenly he saw one blue eye open, wink at him, then close. Buck grinned. From the evil look on Vin's face, it looked like someone was in for it.

Suddenly Ezra jumped. Putting his hands on the dashboard, the undercover agent sat forward in his seat as far as the belt would allow him, then looked behind him. He didn't look happy. "Mr. Tanner, if you don't mind, those are my kidneys that your bony knees are ramming into."

"Sorry, Ez." Vin said, hiding his grin behind a yawn.

Standish glanced over to see Larabee glaring at him. With a cowed look on his face, Ezra slipped back into his seat with one more annoyed glance behind him.

Chris heard a rhythmic thumping sound. Thinking that he might have a tire out, he quickly looked behind him...to find Josiah slowly, repetitively knocking his head against the side window. Without saying a word, Chris just turned his attention back to the road.

A few minutes had passed when Ezra reached up and slapped himself in the ear. Chris glanced over to find the southerner glaring daggers at the men in the back seat.

"The next person who places their wet fingers on any part of my body will get them shot...," he pulled his suit coat away from his holstered gun, "and I *do* mean...*shot*...off."

Buck leaned back muttering something about disgruntled ATF agents while Vin just smiled.

Ezra turned back around. Straightening his coat back out, he glanced up at Chris, who was watching him with a slight grin and raised eyebrows. "What?" He asked innocently.

Chris rolled his eyes and turned back to the road. He was surprised that JD hadn't woken up yet. The doctors said that the kid would be out of it, but he was starting to get worried.

*****

It looked like the traffic jam was just about to free up. Chris was glad because for ten minutes the men had been arguing about where the best place was to keep a gun holstered.

JD, after finally waking up, decided to put his two cents in and the debate quickly went downhill from there.

He was suddenly reminded of the time he took Adam and all of his friends camping the year before he died. For the first time in a long time the thought of his son made him smile.

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!!

"Is not!!!"

"Boys!" Chris yelled.

A hushed silence filled the cab as all five agents looked at their boss.

"If I have to stop this truck and get out..." Chris yelled out, exasperated.

*****

Finally they were just a few short blocks from JD and Buck's apartment.

"Hey Josiah?"

"Yeah Buck?" The older agent looked around Vin to see Wilmington looking at him sheepishly.

"Um...didn't Nathan ride with us to the hospital too?"

Josiah's eyes opened wide. A look of horror, mixed with shamed embarrassment covered his features. He leaned forward in his seat. "Uh...Brother Chris...can we go back to the hospital?"

 

the end (September 2000)

 

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