"And cigarettes," he repeats almost patiently, making no effort to conceal the fact that he's humoring Vasquez, to a point.
But he urges Jack forward, the horse's steps still slow and even as he falls in line with Vasquez's mare. It's obvious that Vasquez has less than practical things in mind for returning to the city, and maybe in a different moment, Faraday would call him on it, would roll his eyes and laugh it off. But here he is, giving into Vasquez's apparent whims – and admittedly, he finds his own wants lining up neatly with the other man's.
And when Vasquez leans over, as he pitches his voice low and raspy in a way that makes something stir in Faraday's gut, as he uses that silly little nickname, Faraday does huff out a small, breathless laugh.
"Fine," he says, waving a hand as though he's offering some great concession. "We'll go back to that one-horse town. Get you those cigarettes and that bed you're lookin' for."
Pleased (and showing it), he's sitting a little straighter in the saddle, chuckling like he's told himself a hilarious private joke that only they're going to understand, and to be fair, the only thing in his head is the image of Faraday laid out in a bed, pinning him face down to the sheets, fucking him...
He shivers for the thought of it, giving him an earnest, more sincere smile. "Gracias," he says. Them, of course, because he can't help being a little bit of an asshole, he says, slowly, "That means thank you," as if Faraday needs to start his Spanish lessons now.
Occupying his hands with smoking, he knows they've got some time to ride before they get back in, which is now when it occurs to him that he should fix up. He can't shave, but maybe he can at least switch clothes, hats. After almost an hour of riding when there's a copse of trees, he nods towards it.
"Come help me find something to wear," he says, "maybe do something of my hair."
When he makes that little snide remark, Vasquez is lucky Faraday has nothing to throw. As it is, all he can cast the other man is a deeply unimpressed look.
The hour of riding is relatively slow, his thigh rumbling with a low ache as they move – dull enough that he doesn’t find reason enough to stop, but persistent enough that Faraday has to readjust every few moments, trying to subtly stretch his leg while they remain atop their mounts. The rest of his wounds were relatively quiet, most days; it’s his leg that never healed up quite right, though most days, he ignored it well enough.
When Vasquez’s mare begins to slow, Faraday pulls on Jack’s reins to pull him up short, as well. He glances over at the grove Vasquez points out, and at that request, Faraday can’t help but snort out a laugh.
“What, you don’t wanna just go in naked as they day you were born?” Faraday smirks at him, impish and knowing. “Seems you have somethin’ of a one-track mind when it comes to headin’ into town. I’m surprised you’re not lookin’ to save yourself some time.”
He's lucky he's not getting shot, is what Vasquez thinks about the glare that Faraday is giving him. Still, for all that he's got frustration, he can't help his privately fond smile as he keeps riding, ducking his head down beneath the hat so Faraday doesn't see it.
By the time he's dismounting, he's quick to head to Faraday's side, coaxing him to also get down. It's as much a break for him to get changed as it is for Faraday to stretch. "You really want me to go marching into town naked?" he challenges. "Never mind the bounty on my head, they'll lock me into a crazy house," he guarantees with a nod of his head.
He's already stripping off his vest, not only to change, but because it's too hot for it. Reaching for his water, he douses his face with it, scrubbing a hand over the dirt to try and dislodge some of it, rooting through his bags to find something he likes. "Where's that shirt you wore the other day?" he asks. "The linen one. Can I borrow it?"
“In fairness to my idea,” Faraday says with a bright, cheeky grin, “they’d be so focused on the state of you that I doubt anyone’d think about that bounty on your head.”
Faraday waves Vasquez off when the other man hovers at Jack’s side, something dismissive and fondly irritated. Faraday eases himself down under his own power, though he his bad leg hitches a little as he pulls it up and over the saddle. Once Vasquez’s back is turned, and once he’s washing his face with a bit of the water, Faraday tries to subtly stretch out his leg, hanging onto the pommel of Jack’s saddle to keep himself balanced.
By the time Vasquez has finished and has turned to his bags, Faraday does the same with his own. He fishes through to find the shirt in question and lets out a quick whistle to get Vasquez’s attention before tossing it over.
As an afterthought, Faraday digs through his bags again, pulling out a spare bandanna, much like the one Faraday currently has knotted at his throat, and holding it out for Vasquez.
"They would be, or you would be?" Vasquez taunts with a smirk, giving Faraday his usual time to fuss over his leg without him watching, because he knows that it happens all the time. Stripping off his shirt, he catches Faraday's, taking his time as he slides it on, buttoning it slower than he usual would.
He takes the bandanna when his shirt is only half-buttoned, flickering it in the air like he's a matador. "What is this for?" he asks, like he's willfully ignorant about what Faraday wants him to do with it. Raising it to his face, he wonders if he's trying to cover his face with it, but thinks that'd be more suspicious.
"I think maybe this is more attention on me than being naked," he says with a snort, draping it over his shoulder so that he can keep buttoning up.
Faraday rolls his eyes at the display, the annoyance more for show than truly genuine.
"Was thinkin' you'd wear it over your head like a bonnet," Faraday says archly. "Figured we could pass you off as an ugly old widow."
But after that, Faraday leans back against Jack's flank, the horse huffing a little though staying in place to allow Faraday to prop himself up. Faraday hooks his thumbs over his belt as he watches Vasquez put himself together.
"Failin' that, you might consider wearin' it around your neck."
Vasquez, now finished with buttoning himself, does exactly that and makes a moue of his lips as he wraps it around his hair like he's a little old lady. "What, like this?" he replies cheerfully, not even bothering to move an inch or dare to do anything that lets Faraday's eyes slip away from him.
Instead of tying it on himself, he crooks his fingers towards himself. "Come tie it how you want, I don't want to deal with your annoyed huffs and words when I do it the way you don't like," he says, aiming to hedge that off because if it happens, he's bound to roll his eyes until they fall out.
He slides his gun belt back on, draping the bandanna around the back of his neck as he reaches for some of the oil so he can rub it deep into his beard to tame it, and to the curls at the back of his head, which have grown unruly, almost long enough to pin up.
Faraday snorts out a laugh at the display, nodding approvingly as he says, "Perfect.
His gaze turns a little skeptical at Vasquez's instruction, though he still does as he's told. He carefully pushes off from Jack, closing the few steps between himself and Vasquez. Vasquez is surely capable of doing this himself, and could probably figure out a fancier way of tying this off. Faraday, on the other hand, only uses a simple knot.
Still, Faraday does as he's told, rolling up the wild rag in his own usual fashion and knotting it. He keeps the bandana relatively loose around Vasquez's neck, though not so much that he was liable to lose it. As Vasquez works his hands through his hair, Faraday pinches one of his curls between his fingers, examining it.
It actually takes him a moment to find his voice, because a nice little side-effect of Faraday tying the bandanna and then touching his hair is that he gets these little, lovely touches to his neck and his hair, slumping forward just a little as he soaks them up, inhaling sharply. Touching a hand over the knotted rag, he gets out a rough 'thank you' before he glances at Faraday while slicking it into something that doesn't curl so much, but still nearly reaches his shoulders.
"If I let it get long enough, maybe I can do what Billy does," he says, which isn't entirely teasing given the glimmer of interest in his eye. After all, no one really expects your death to come from a man's hairpin, which could be a very handy thing.
"Besides, I don't look good with my hair shorn short," he advises with a knowing nod. "It's no good for anyone, to do this."
Faraday only lets out a small noise of acknowledgment, apparently holding no strong opinions on the future state of Vasquez’s hair. The added length might do well to disguise the outlaw, he thinks, and slicking it back as he is now certainly changes how Vasquez looks in his wanted posters.
(And a part of him is all too glad to remind him of how pleasant it is, running his hands through Vasquez’s dark curls in more private moments.)
At length, Faraday shrugs, releasing the curl to let Vasquez slick it into place. He says, “When we get to Rose Creek, you consider seein’ a proper barber.”
The scarf is settled around Vasquez’s neck, but Faraday still fusses a little with it, a small frown of focus masking his reluctance to pull back. Faraday’s fingers brush lightly across Vasquez’s neck before his hands settle on the other man’s shoulders.
Taking a short step back, Faraday looks Vasquez over critically. The two of them are more or less the same height, but Faraday is far more broad; the shirt Vasquez has borrowed is loose on the other man, a little ill-fitting, but not obviously so from a couple paces away. The oil in Vasquez’s beard and hair make him look more put together than one might expect of a hunted man, but it doesn’t do nearly as much as Faraday would like to make him unrecognizable.
But there’s little they can do on that front, Faraday knows. At least, not with a few drastic changes, like chopping off those curls or shaving off that beard, neither of which Faraday imagines Vasquez would be very keen on.
“Suppose this’ll have to do,” Faraday sighs. Faraday was often accused of being reckless, but he is cautious when he needs to be – even more so, these days, now that more than his own life hangs in the balance.
"Maybe," he says, of the threat of a haircut in Rose Creek, because he does like the way it feels when Faraday's hands are threaded deep in his hair, yanking at it and making him beg and cry out. That's not something he's eager to give up, if he's honest.
Licking his lip and pressing his tongue to his teeth when Faraday studies him so close, he can't help the way he takes advantage of them being so close, grabbing Faraday by the belt to yank him in, standing toe to toe, his chin up like he intends to lay down a challenge.
"Is that sigh disappointment in the way I look?" he asks, voice low, like they have to keep secrets from the wilderness around them. "You didn't seem to mind it so much last time you saw me pinned over you, hand on you."
He lets out a small, startled sound as Vasquez yanks him in close, hands reflexively gripping Vasquez’s borrowed shirt to keep his balance.
“The hell are you—”
That’s as far as Faraday gets before Vasquez is glaring at him, and Faraday is caught off-guard by it. He blinks owlishly at the other man for a second or two, but then Vasquez speaks, using that low, husky tone that makes something white-hot twist in his stomach. Color rises in his cheeks at the reminder, and he licks his lips reflexively, mouth going dry.
Faraday has to admit, that particular sight from the other night was a pleasant one, and one he was all too happy to witness again.
But he inhales sharply, like he’s waking from a trance, and he rocks back to put a little space between them again – though only a little. Just enough to let him think clearly.
“Take this seriously, Vas,” he grumbles, though he knows the words are rich, coming from Faraday of all people. “You know we gotta go about this careful.”
He nearly darts forward to steal a brazen kiss, but Faraday steps back before he can, which leaves him to instead give him a patently disapproving look, not sulking, but annoyed. It's not Faraday's fault, either, it's just that every time they want comforts, he has to go through this stupid show of being someone else and looking like someone else.
"I know, I know," he grumbles, releasing his grip on Faraday's belt, reaching for his hat to tuck it away rather than putting it back on his head. "But," he admits, cocking his head to the side, "I know that you have my back," he points out.
That's what makes all the difference between before and now. That said, he tries to ignore the surging panic in his gut, the one that says that Faraday's going to eventually tire of all the trouble and work that goes into keeping him alive, that he'll go. He's not so good at hiding it, so he's sure the thoughts show on his face as he tucks everything back into his saddlebags.
"Do you want more time? Or should we keep riding?"
Faraday feels a pang of loss as Vasquez releases him – stupid of him, considering Faraday was the first to put some distance between them in the first place. He lets his hands drop to his sides for a moment, and at Vasquez’s words of reassurance, Faraday feels some of the tension drain from his frame. His expression softens a little, warms a little, because they rarely speak aloud how much they trust one another.
It can go unsaid, Faraday knows. By now, it would take a bigger fool than Faraday to understand that they trust one another with their lives, but hearing it still makes his chest clench a little tenderly.
He shakes it off when that dark look passes Vasquez’s face, though, and Faraday frowns at him. For a few seconds, he bites his tongue, uncertain of whether he should point it out. He nearly lets it lie, but in a shocking moment of clarity, Faraday recognizes that if he leaves it alone, it might distract the both of them. They have to ride into town with clear heads.
He ignores Vasquez’s question for the time being, tilting his head to better examine Vasquez’s expression and body language.
“What was that about?” he asks, a bare edge of concern slipping into his voice. “You had a peculiar look on your face, just then.”
What's the chances that he could lie and get away with it? Given how poorly the last lie had gone (though, he could also argue that the last lie turned out incredible seeing as look where they are now). Still, that doesn't mean he has to face Faraday when he confesses to the truth. Shrugging, he deliberately doesn't look in Faraday's direction as he decides that it's easier to just ignore him.
"You don't strike me as someone who wants to be around when things get hard and far from fun," he says with a shrug of his shoulders, because it's not like they've been facing adversity and Faraday's injury had meant Vasquez stayed.
Sometimes he wonders, if it had been the other way around, would he have been left to mend in Rose Creek on his own?
"I think, maybe, one day, you'll get tired of always having to watch my back, protect me, avoid towns and not have a real life." Selfishly, Vasquez knows that if he had a choice, it would eventually start to wear at even him. "I don't like the thought of becoming a burden that you start to resent."
That was far from the answer Faraday had expected.
In fact, if he were in the habit of being honest, he’d admit that he expected Vasquez to brush him off, to insist that everything was fine, and that Faraday was jumping at shadows. It wouldn’t have been the first time Vasquez had lied to his face or, at the very least, shoved the truth to one side and avoided the topic entirely.
But he answers, and the way Vasquez turns his back on Faraday tells him that he’s being honest, and that fact alone punches the air from him. None of their usual bullshit, none of their usual artifice – just naked honesty that Faraday barely knows how to handle. He stares at Vasquez’s back, eyes wide and mouth open, stands there like he’s been shot in the gut, and the pain hasn’t settled just yet.
All this time, Faraday had been privately terrified that Vasquez would grow tired of him. That Vasquez would tired of his endless ribbing and complaining and his need to fill silence with mindless chatter. That Faraday’s occasional infirmity in the cold or after long bouts of riding, when they’d have to slow or stop traveling altogether, would grate on Vasquez’s nerves. That Vasquez would just get sick of him, like so many others had in the past.
Faraday’s always felt like the burden, here, and for a strange, breathless second, the ridiculousness of Vasquez uttering those words strikes him as funny.
“You’re an idiot,” he says, and the words fall from his lips before he can properly think on them, as so many of his comments do. His voice is brightened by a quiet wave of amusement. “You think dodgin’ a couple towns and keepin’ an eye out for trouble is really enough to drive me off?”
The two of them had spent a surreal, hellish week together, preparing for the battle in Rose Creek, and that had been impossible and about one of the worst experiences in his life. The constant competition of excitement and dread mixing with each passing minute would have made a lesser man run for the hills. But Faraday had stuck that out, though a part of him knew the others expected him to be the one to abandon the fight, out of any of the mismatched seven.
As soon as Faraday calls him an idiot, he's turning around so he can argue with that, because he's not being an idiot, he thinks that Faraday is only seeing the short term. Glaring at him, he doesn't know if he's actually going to be able to argue with him because Faraday is persistently stubborn about so many things, and why not this? "Yes," he argues, heatedly. "I do."
"I think that dodging towns and keeping an eye out for trouble is exciting now and interesting, but after months, it becomes awful. I know, I've done it," he says, eyes flashing like a wounded animal who's just seen the thing hunting it again.
That's the trouble, it's not now that he thinks is the problem. It's that he thinks that he's already gone for Faraday in ways he doesn't want to talk about, and if he loses him later, when he's only feeling more, it will hurt like nothing has before.
"Don't call me an idiot," he spits at him. "You say you don't mind now, but what about in six months? A year?" He's never looked that far ahead, never knowing if he'd stay alive, but it seems impossible that Faraday would actually put up with this. "A lifetime?" he challenges. "Someone's going to leave, but it won't be me."
The question catches him off-guard, and his mouth well truly drops open.
He had been thinking about this arrangement – this relationship, such as it is – in the abstract. Clinging to it for another week, a fortnight, a month, and feeling relieved that they’ve managed to keep things up for as long as they have. A part of him had always been certain that Vasquez would turn his back on him, but he hadn’t ever thought about how long this might last.
Six months, Vasquez says. A year. A lifetime. That’s a hell of a lot longer than anyone’s ever thought about sticking it out with him, aside from his own mother, God rest her soul.
Hell, Faraday has barely thought about his own life that far ahead. Faraday makes an awful habit of gambling with his life that each birthday is a pleasantly surprising milestone. His mind can barely wrap around planning just a couple of weeks in the future, much less a lifetime, for however much time he’s got left on this Earth.
That wounded look that crosses Vasquez’s face makes his stomach sour, and Faraday winces, reaching out to tentatively rest a hand against Vasquez’s arm. “I’m not plannin’ on goin’ anywhere,” he replies sincerely, almost mulishly. He doesn’t know what else he can say, considering looking as far into the future as Vasquez is saying might as well be like standing into a pitch black room and describing what’s across the way.
He just... can’t do it.
“Listen,” he says, carefully picking his words. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m in so long as you’re in, and I don’t see that changin’.”
To be completely fair, a lifetime for them could very well only be a year, given the danger they get into. For Vasquez with a price on his head, a lifetime could be a few months, but still, it's something that needs to be said. What he doesn't expect is for Faraday to start making stubborn comments that he's not going anywhere.
"Trust me, if I was going to have walked away, it would have been Rose Creek when you were healing," he says bluntly, even if he's drifting closer to Faraday at the touch to his arm. "You? You're not a good patient," he informs him, as if he needs the reminding. "So? I'm in."
Ignoring the fact that they're still in public, near to a trail, Vasquez sets his fingers to Faraday's neck to squeeze gently, not stupid enough to do something like kiss him in the light of day, but the way he lets his fingers drift over his skin is a promise and a show of his surprised gratitude.
"Besides, there is always Rose Creek that's safe," he admits, "When you miss your gambling too much and I want a comfortable bed and meals, at least we have somewhere, until everyone forgets about the bounty on my head."
“So there we are, then,” Faraday says brightly, trying to mask his relief with a bright, crooked smile. “Looks like we got that figured out.”
He leans into Vasquez’s touch, his hand coming up to rest over Vasquez’s. He squeezes the other man’s hand briefly in assurance. They’ve made it this far, Faraday thinks, and it’s the longest anyone has stuck it out with him. If they can last all these months without driving one another away, Faraday figures, then surely the two of them can last for however much longer Faraday’s got on his borrowed time.
One last squeeze of Vasquez’s hand before Faraday rolls his shoulders, a little embarrassed by how earnest this entire exchange has been. Faraday’s used to couching his words in half-truths and jokes, and this is a bit out of his usual purview.
“Are we goin’ back to town, or are we just gonna stand here, palavering over nothing?”
Faraday is annoyingly handsome sometimes, and worse is right now, when he's all bright and cheerful and all the things that Vasquez had worried about seem to melt away so that he doesn't have to think about it. Still, he's also handsome and Vasquez likes to look at him, so, maybe it's not such a bad thing.
His breath catches, just for a second, when Faraday rests his hand on top of his, a brief moment where he almost can't believe that it's still happening, impossible seeming as it is.
Still, Faraday's words break that soft moment quickly. "Who taught you such a big word?" he asks dubiously, getting back on his horse to answer that yes, they are still heading back into town, even if there's doubts and worries about what he looks like. "Do you even know what it means?" Because, honestly, Vasquez doesn't. For all that his English is fairly good, it's still a second language.
Faraday lets out a derisive snort at the question. He may not be the smartest of the bunch, but his natural gift for storytelling means he has a surprisingly varied vocabulary.
“I know plenty of big words,” he cuts back, affronted – though it’s more for show than anything. He pauses as he turns back to Jack, stretching out his leg one last time before climbing into his saddle. He’s slower about it than he normally would be, but the brief reprieve is enough to have calmed the ache until a dull throb. He sighs with relief once he settles into position, a hand rubbing reflexively over the old wound.
And he continues on with a bright smile, “That one means bullshittin’.”
"So, you'll learn all these fancy big words, but you won't learn Spanish?" He shakes his head, like he's disappointed in Faraday for this, and even if he's mostly joking, there's a tiny part of him that means it. He wouldn't mind hearing proper Spanish from Faraday's lips, but maybe that's just a fantasy that will never come true.
He's already several paces ahead of Faraday and Jack, even if he leans back to make a few clucking noises for Jack to join him, digging through his bag for a few pieces of dried meat for him, if he can catch up to him.
"Take your time," he advises. "Let Jack do the work to get us to town, you just relax, then I'll take care of you."
“I know plenty of Spanish,” Faraday says primly, and he appends the thought with a purposely round and drawling, “pendejo.”
And his accompanying grin does a great deal to take away the bite of the insult. What little Spanish Faraday knows were words and phrases flung at him from across card tables and bars, which naturally means everything he knows are the more common oaths or invectives that chased him from town to town. It’s a fact that Vasquez surely knows by now.
Jack snorts a little, speeding up slightly to fall into step, trailing a step behind to sniff at whatever food Vasquez had produced. Faraday’s mouth twists to one side, displaying a sort of token irritation.
“You’re gonna fatten him up if you feed him like that.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
winterfish
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 06:54 am (UTC)But he urges Jack forward, the horse's steps still slow and even as he falls in line with Vasquez's mare. It's obvious that Vasquez has less than practical things in mind for returning to the city, and maybe in a different moment, Faraday would call him on it, would roll his eyes and laugh it off. But here he is, giving into Vasquez's apparent whims – and admittedly, he finds his own wants lining up neatly with the other man's.
And when Vasquez leans over, as he pitches his voice low and raspy in a way that makes something stir in Faraday's gut, as he uses that silly little nickname, Faraday does huff out a small, breathless laugh.
"Fine," he says, waving a hand as though he's offering some great concession. "We'll go back to that one-horse town. Get you those cigarettes and that bed you're lookin' for."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 01:39 pm (UTC)He shivers for the thought of it, giving him an earnest, more sincere smile. "Gracias," he says. Them, of course, because he can't help being a little bit of an asshole, he says, slowly, "That means thank you," as if Faraday needs to start his Spanish lessons now.
Occupying his hands with smoking, he knows they've got some time to ride before they get back in, which is now when it occurs to him that he should fix up. He can't shave, but maybe he can at least switch clothes, hats. After almost an hour of riding when there's a copse of trees, he nods towards it.
"Come help me find something to wear," he says, "maybe do something of my hair."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 10:22 pm (UTC)When he makes that little snide remark, Vasquez is lucky Faraday has nothing to throw. As it is, all he can cast the other man is a deeply unimpressed look.
The hour of riding is relatively slow, his thigh rumbling with a low ache as they move – dull enough that he doesn’t find reason enough to stop, but persistent enough that Faraday has to readjust every few moments, trying to subtly stretch his leg while they remain atop their mounts. The rest of his wounds were relatively quiet, most days; it’s his leg that never healed up quite right, though most days, he ignored it well enough.
When Vasquez’s mare begins to slow, Faraday pulls on Jack’s reins to pull him up short, as well. He glances over at the grove Vasquez points out, and at that request, Faraday can’t help but snort out a laugh.
“What, you don’t wanna just go in naked as they day you were born?” Faraday smirks at him, impish and knowing. “Seems you have somethin’ of a one-track mind when it comes to headin’ into town. I’m surprised you’re not lookin’ to save yourself some time.”
no subject
Date: 2018-03-03 12:04 am (UTC)By the time he's dismounting, he's quick to head to Faraday's side, coaxing him to also get down. It's as much a break for him to get changed as it is for Faraday to stretch. "You really want me to go marching into town naked?" he challenges. "Never mind the bounty on my head, they'll lock me into a crazy house," he guarantees with a nod of his head.
He's already stripping off his vest, not only to change, but because it's too hot for it. Reaching for his water, he douses his face with it, scrubbing a hand over the dirt to try and dislodge some of it, rooting through his bags to find something he likes. "Where's that shirt you wore the other day?" he asks. "The linen one. Can I borrow it?"
no subject
Date: 2018-03-03 12:26 am (UTC)Faraday waves Vasquez off when the other man hovers at Jack’s side, something dismissive and fondly irritated. Faraday eases himself down under his own power, though he his bad leg hitches a little as he pulls it up and over the saddle. Once Vasquez’s back is turned, and once he’s washing his face with a bit of the water, Faraday tries to subtly stretch out his leg, hanging onto the pommel of Jack’s saddle to keep himself balanced.
By the time Vasquez has finished and has turned to his bags, Faraday does the same with his own. He fishes through to find the shirt in question and lets out a quick whistle to get Vasquez’s attention before tossing it over.
As an afterthought, Faraday digs through his bags again, pulling out a spare bandanna, much like the one Faraday currently has knotted at his throat, and holding it out for Vasquez.
“Put that on, too.”
no subject
Date: 2018-03-03 01:05 am (UTC)He takes the bandanna when his shirt is only half-buttoned, flickering it in the air like he's a matador. "What is this for?" he asks, like he's willfully ignorant about what Faraday wants him to do with it. Raising it to his face, he wonders if he's trying to cover his face with it, but thinks that'd be more suspicious.
"I think maybe this is more attention on me than being naked," he says with a snort, draping it over his shoulder so that he can keep buttoning up.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-04 09:12 am (UTC)"Was thinkin' you'd wear it over your head like a bonnet," Faraday says archly. "Figured we could pass you off as an ugly old widow."
But after that, Faraday leans back against Jack's flank, the horse huffing a little though staying in place to allow Faraday to prop himself up. Faraday hooks his thumbs over his belt as he watches Vasquez put himself together.
"Failin' that, you might consider wearin' it around your neck."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-04 01:49 pm (UTC)Instead of tying it on himself, he crooks his fingers towards himself. "Come tie it how you want, I don't want to deal with your annoyed huffs and words when I do it the way you don't like," he says, aiming to hedge that off because if it happens, he's bound to roll his eyes until they fall out.
He slides his gun belt back on, draping the bandanna around the back of his neck as he reaches for some of the oil so he can rub it deep into his beard to tame it, and to the curls at the back of his head, which have grown unruly, almost long enough to pin up.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 09:46 am (UTC)His gaze turns a little skeptical at Vasquez's instruction, though he still does as he's told. He carefully pushes off from Jack, closing the few steps between himself and Vasquez. Vasquez is surely capable of doing this himself, and could probably figure out a fancier way of tying this off. Faraday, on the other hand, only uses a simple knot.
Still, Faraday does as he's told, rolling up the wild rag in his own usual fashion and knotting it. He keeps the bandana relatively loose around Vasquez's neck, though not so much that he was liable to lose it. As Vasquez works his hands through his hair, Faraday pinches one of his curls between his fingers, examining it.
"Gettin' awfully long, ain't it?"
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 03:04 pm (UTC)"If I let it get long enough, maybe I can do what Billy does," he says, which isn't entirely teasing given the glimmer of interest in his eye. After all, no one really expects your death to come from a man's hairpin, which could be a very handy thing.
"Besides, I don't look good with my hair shorn short," he advises with a knowing nod. "It's no good for anyone, to do this."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 06:18 pm (UTC)(And a part of him is all too glad to remind him of how pleasant it is, running his hands through Vasquez’s dark curls in more private moments.)
At length, Faraday shrugs, releasing the curl to let Vasquez slick it into place. He says, “When we get to Rose Creek, you consider seein’ a proper barber.”
The scarf is settled around Vasquez’s neck, but Faraday still fusses a little with it, a small frown of focus masking his reluctance to pull back. Faraday’s fingers brush lightly across Vasquez’s neck before his hands settle on the other man’s shoulders.
Taking a short step back, Faraday looks Vasquez over critically. The two of them are more or less the same height, but Faraday is far more broad; the shirt Vasquez has borrowed is loose on the other man, a little ill-fitting, but not obviously so from a couple paces away. The oil in Vasquez’s beard and hair make him look more put together than one might expect of a hunted man, but it doesn’t do nearly as much as Faraday would like to make him unrecognizable.
But there’s little they can do on that front, Faraday knows. At least, not with a few drastic changes, like chopping off those curls or shaving off that beard, neither of which Faraday imagines Vasquez would be very keen on.
“Suppose this’ll have to do,” Faraday sighs. Faraday was often accused of being reckless, but he is cautious when he needs to be – even more so, these days, now that more than his own life hangs in the balance.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 07:11 pm (UTC)Licking his lip and pressing his tongue to his teeth when Faraday studies him so close, he can't help the way he takes advantage of them being so close, grabbing Faraday by the belt to yank him in, standing toe to toe, his chin up like he intends to lay down a challenge.
"Is that sigh disappointment in the way I look?" he asks, voice low, like they have to keep secrets from the wilderness around them. "You didn't seem to mind it so much last time you saw me pinned over you, hand on you."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 07:29 pm (UTC)“The hell are you—”
That’s as far as Faraday gets before Vasquez is glaring at him, and Faraday is caught off-guard by it. He blinks owlishly at the other man for a second or two, but then Vasquez speaks, using that low, husky tone that makes something white-hot twist in his stomach. Color rises in his cheeks at the reminder, and he licks his lips reflexively, mouth going dry.
Faraday has to admit, that particular sight from the other night was a pleasant one, and one he was all too happy to witness again.
But he inhales sharply, like he’s waking from a trance, and he rocks back to put a little space between them again – though only a little. Just enough to let him think clearly.
“Take this seriously, Vas,” he grumbles, though he knows the words are rich, coming from Faraday of all people. “You know we gotta go about this careful.”
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 08:04 pm (UTC)"I know, I know," he grumbles, releasing his grip on Faraday's belt, reaching for his hat to tuck it away rather than putting it back on his head. "But," he admits, cocking his head to the side, "I know that you have my back," he points out.
That's what makes all the difference between before and now. That said, he tries to ignore the surging panic in his gut, the one that says that Faraday's going to eventually tire of all the trouble and work that goes into keeping him alive, that he'll go. He's not so good at hiding it, so he's sure the thoughts show on his face as he tucks everything back into his saddlebags.
"Do you want more time? Or should we keep riding?"
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 09:37 pm (UTC)It can go unsaid, Faraday knows. By now, it would take a bigger fool than Faraday to understand that they trust one another with their lives, but hearing it still makes his chest clench a little tenderly.
He shakes it off when that dark look passes Vasquez’s face, though, and Faraday frowns at him. For a few seconds, he bites his tongue, uncertain of whether he should point it out. He nearly lets it lie, but in a shocking moment of clarity, Faraday recognizes that if he leaves it alone, it might distract the both of them. They have to ride into town with clear heads.
He ignores Vasquez’s question for the time being, tilting his head to better examine Vasquez’s expression and body language.
“What was that about?” he asks, a bare edge of concern slipping into his voice. “You had a peculiar look on your face, just then.”
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 10:26 pm (UTC)"You don't strike me as someone who wants to be around when things get hard and far from fun," he says with a shrug of his shoulders, because it's not like they've been facing adversity and Faraday's injury had meant Vasquez stayed.
Sometimes he wonders, if it had been the other way around, would he have been left to mend in Rose Creek on his own?
"I think, maybe, one day, you'll get tired of always having to watch my back, protect me, avoid towns and not have a real life." Selfishly, Vasquez knows that if he had a choice, it would eventually start to wear at even him. "I don't like the thought of becoming a burden that you start to resent."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 11:00 pm (UTC)In fact, if he were in the habit of being honest, he’d admit that he expected Vasquez to brush him off, to insist that everything was fine, and that Faraday was jumping at shadows. It wouldn’t have been the first time Vasquez had lied to his face or, at the very least, shoved the truth to one side and avoided the topic entirely.
But he answers, and the way Vasquez turns his back on Faraday tells him that he’s being honest, and that fact alone punches the air from him. None of their usual bullshit, none of their usual artifice – just naked honesty that Faraday barely knows how to handle. He stares at Vasquez’s back, eyes wide and mouth open, stands there like he’s been shot in the gut, and the pain hasn’t settled just yet.
All this time, Faraday had been privately terrified that Vasquez would grow tired of him. That Vasquez would tired of his endless ribbing and complaining and his need to fill silence with mindless chatter. That Faraday’s occasional infirmity in the cold or after long bouts of riding, when they’d have to slow or stop traveling altogether, would grate on Vasquez’s nerves. That Vasquez would just get sick of him, like so many others had in the past.
Faraday’s always felt like the burden, here, and for a strange, breathless second, the ridiculousness of Vasquez uttering those words strikes him as funny.
“You’re an idiot,” he says, and the words fall from his lips before he can properly think on them, as so many of his comments do. His voice is brightened by a quiet wave of amusement. “You think dodgin’ a couple towns and keepin’ an eye out for trouble is really enough to drive me off?”
The two of them had spent a surreal, hellish week together, preparing for the battle in Rose Creek, and that had been impossible and about one of the worst experiences in his life. The constant competition of excitement and dread mixing with each passing minute would have made a lesser man run for the hills. But Faraday had stuck that out, though a part of him knew the others expected him to be the one to abandon the fight, out of any of the mismatched seven.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 11:51 pm (UTC)"I think that dodging towns and keeping an eye out for trouble is exciting now and interesting, but after months, it becomes awful. I know, I've done it," he says, eyes flashing like a wounded animal who's just seen the thing hunting it again.
That's the trouble, it's not now that he thinks is the problem. It's that he thinks that he's already gone for Faraday in ways he doesn't want to talk about, and if he loses him later, when he's only feeling more, it will hurt like nothing has before.
"Don't call me an idiot," he spits at him. "You say you don't mind now, but what about in six months? A year?" He's never looked that far ahead, never knowing if he'd stay alive, but it seems impossible that Faraday would actually put up with this. "A lifetime?" he challenges. "Someone's going to leave, but it won't be me."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-06 01:26 am (UTC)He had been thinking about this arrangement – this relationship, such as it is – in the abstract. Clinging to it for another week, a fortnight, a month, and feeling relieved that they’ve managed to keep things up for as long as they have. A part of him had always been certain that Vasquez would turn his back on him, but he hadn’t ever thought about how long this might last.
Six months, Vasquez says. A year. A lifetime. That’s a hell of a lot longer than anyone’s ever thought about sticking it out with him, aside from his own mother, God rest her soul.
Hell, Faraday has barely thought about his own life that far ahead. Faraday makes an awful habit of gambling with his life that each birthday is a pleasantly surprising milestone. His mind can barely wrap around planning just a couple of weeks in the future, much less a lifetime, for however much time he’s got left on this Earth.
That wounded look that crosses Vasquez’s face makes his stomach sour, and Faraday winces, reaching out to tentatively rest a hand against Vasquez’s arm. “I’m not plannin’ on goin’ anywhere,” he replies sincerely, almost mulishly. He doesn’t know what else he can say, considering looking as far into the future as Vasquez is saying might as well be like standing into a pitch black room and describing what’s across the way.
He just... can’t do it.
“Listen,” he says, carefully picking his words. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m in so long as you’re in, and I don’t see that changin’.”
no subject
Date: 2018-03-06 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-08 08:38 pm (UTC)He leans into Vasquez’s touch, his hand coming up to rest over Vasquez’s. He squeezes the other man’s hand briefly in assurance. They’ve made it this far, Faraday thinks, and it’s the longest anyone has stuck it out with him. If they can last all these months without driving one another away, Faraday figures, then surely the two of them can last for however much longer Faraday’s got on his borrowed time.
One last squeeze of Vasquez’s hand before Faraday rolls his shoulders, a little embarrassed by how earnest this entire exchange has been. Faraday’s used to couching his words in half-truths and jokes, and this is a bit out of his usual purview.
“Are we goin’ back to town, or are we just gonna stand here, palavering over nothing?”
no subject
Date: 2018-03-08 11:48 pm (UTC)His breath catches, just for a second, when Faraday rests his hand on top of his, a brief moment where he almost can't believe that it's still happening, impossible seeming as it is.
Still, Faraday's words break that soft moment quickly. "Who taught you such a big word?" he asks dubiously, getting back on his horse to answer that yes, they are still heading back into town, even if there's doubts and worries about what he looks like. "Do you even know what it means?" Because, honestly, Vasquez doesn't. For all that his English is fairly good, it's still a second language.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-09 12:59 am (UTC)“I know plenty of big words,” he cuts back, affronted – though it’s more for show than anything. He pauses as he turns back to Jack, stretching out his leg one last time before climbing into his saddle. He’s slower about it than he normally would be, but the brief reprieve is enough to have calmed the ache until a dull throb. He sighs with relief once he settles into position, a hand rubbing reflexively over the old wound.
And he continues on with a bright smile, “That one means bullshittin’.”
no subject
Date: 2018-03-09 01:38 am (UTC)He's already several paces ahead of Faraday and Jack, even if he leans back to make a few clucking noises for Jack to join him, digging through his bag for a few pieces of dried meat for him, if he can catch up to him.
"Take your time," he advises. "Let Jack do the work to get us to town, you just relax, then I'll take care of you."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-09 10:58 pm (UTC)And his accompanying grin does a great deal to take away the bite of the insult. What little Spanish Faraday knows were words and phrases flung at him from across card tables and bars, which naturally means everything he knows are the more common oaths or invectives that chased him from town to town. It’s a fact that Vasquez surely knows by now.
Jack snorts a little, speeding up slightly to fall into step, trailing a step behind to sniff at whatever food Vasquez had produced. Faraday’s mouth twists to one side, displaying a sort of token irritation.
“You’re gonna fatten him up if you feed him like that.”
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:i'm so sorry for the delay! work kicked my ass
From:totally understand! I'm in similar places :( hence morning or night tag rounds
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:i'm so sorry this took so long; this month has been awful work-wise
From:<333 I'm very happy for the tag! I will reply and then link to a new one with a mini time jump
From:new link!
From: