There’s a brief, heart-dropping second where Vasquez doesn’t move, doesn’t react, and Faraday realizes what a giant goddamn mistake he’s made. His grip loosens slightly on Vasquez’s sleeves, and apologies start piling and piling on the tip of his tongue, ready to toss out in rapidfire succession.
Unnecessary, it turns out, as something seems to spur Vasquez forward, as he climbs into Faraday’s lap, a calloused hand curling over the line of Faraday’s jaw. His own hat falls away, tumbles somewhere to the floor, where it’s sure to lie forgotten for a little while yet. The kiss is fierce and bruising, a little too sharp, a little too much teeth – and later, Faraday will chalk it up to inexperience. To desperation and nerves and a frantic sense of want that had struck him like a shot to the gut.
Faraday’s always been an impulsive son of a bitch. It’s why he rode out when Sam taunted him with an impossible job. It’s why he stuck around when the odds were stacked entirely against them. It’s why he charged the Gatling gun, with little more than his mulish determination and a handful of prayers.
For once, though, it seems his impulsiveness has paid off, and when Vasquez backs off, Faraday is still gripping his sleeves, breathless and dazed. He licks his lips, head tilting back slightly as Vasquez brushes a line, up and down, up and down. (It really has no right feeling as nice as it does, he thinks, but it does.)
He snorts out a quick laugh, something obviously distracted and distant, but he flashes Vasquez one of his customary smirks. “You oughta know by now that I don’t do nothing unless I want to.”
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Unnecessary, it turns out, as something seems to spur Vasquez forward, as he climbs into Faraday’s lap, a calloused hand curling over the line of Faraday’s jaw. His own hat falls away, tumbles somewhere to the floor, where it’s sure to lie forgotten for a little while yet. The kiss is fierce and bruising, a little too sharp, a little too much teeth – and later, Faraday will chalk it up to inexperience. To desperation and nerves and a frantic sense of want that had struck him like a shot to the gut.
Faraday’s always been an impulsive son of a bitch. It’s why he rode out when Sam taunted him with an impossible job. It’s why he stuck around when the odds were stacked entirely against them. It’s why he charged the Gatling gun, with little more than his mulish determination and a handful of prayers.
For once, though, it seems his impulsiveness has paid off, and when Vasquez backs off, Faraday is still gripping his sleeves, breathless and dazed. He licks his lips, head tilting back slightly as Vasquez brushes a line, up and down, up and down. (It really has no right feeling as nice as it does, he thinks, but it does.)
He snorts out a quick laugh, something obviously distracted and distant, but he flashes Vasquez one of his customary smirks. “You oughta know by now that I don’t do nothing unless I want to.”