With as dim as the lamp is set, Vasquez’s cell sits just at the edge of the ring of light. From here, Faraday can’t get a good look at the man, but he doesn’t smell the telltale stench of blood, doesn’t spot anything particularly worrisome about Vasquez’s stance. He’s... well, not fine considering he’s locked up in a goddamn jail cell, but not in much need of patching up.
That’s something, he supposes, not much, but something. It does little for the rage writhing in his belly like some ugly, caged animal.
He catches sight of Vasquez’s nod, follows the other man’s gaze to the gun on the desk, resting in its holster. Apparently the guard had taken off his gun belt while he napped. Slowly, he takes hold of the gun, watching the dozing man for signs of waking, and once it’s fully in his grasp, he reels back, slamming the butt of the gun against the man’s temple.
The man only grunts, crumbling, but Faraday grabs hold of the man’s elbow with his free hand, easing him slowly to the ground to minimize the noise. He freezes, listening, waiting, before he searches the man’s unconscious form for a set of keys.
He finally snags the ring, tucked away inside the man's vest, and he lets out out a small, triumphant sound. Faraday hurries to the cell as quietly and as quickly as he dares.
"Just so long as we're both clear," he hisses, "comin' back here was your idea."
The murderous glare on Vasquez's face tells Faraday that he already knows how bad of an idea this was. He's not dwelling on it consciously, but it's in the back of his head simmering that if they can't trust any town apart from Rose Creek, then what the hell does his life look like and is it worth it, being on the road like this. He can't get to his feet, awkwardly tied up the way he is, but at least he can glare.
"Cut me free now, blame me later," he snipes back at Faraday, his joy and relief at seeing him overwhelmed at this specific moment with the irritation that Faraday's words have left in him, rubbing raw like a bad wound. He wishes that the guard had been hit harder, but if he'd died, it would've been worse.
Holding out his tied hands, he shifts to his knees and one foot to stagger to his feet clumsily, waiting to be cut loose, trying to stay somewhat in the shadows. "They took my guns, my lasso," he says. "My hat," he adds, and the bag had gone too. All his worldly possessions, which probably would've been rifled through and sold if he'd been shot, hung, or arrested.
There's a terrifying swoop in his stomach and he closes his eyes briefly, wondering what future he has. It's not a good thought, but right now, he's full of bad ones.
Faraday duly ignores the death glare Vasquez sends his way – it’s nothing too different from the norm, at any rate – and he shoves the door open. Slipping the key ring over his wrist, he enters the cell and looks Vasquez over. Nothing life-threatening, that he can see, which tells him his captors intended to keep Vasquez alive and well for transport.
Hardly a comfort, honestly.
He slips his knife from its sheath, examining Vasquez’s wrists for the easiest section to cut. Looks like Vasquez got something of a head start, and Faraday carefully moves to work at the same section. He lets Vasquez speak, but he pauses when he hears a strange quality to the other man’s voice, a strange little hitch in his breath, and Faraday looks up from his work, startled.
“Vas,” he murmurs, an worry flares in his gut, cold and bitter. He reaches up his free hand, resting a rough palm against Vasquez’s cheek. His thumb gently brushes just beneath the worst of the bruising around Vasquez’s eye. “Hey, darlin’. C’mon. Look at me.”
Vasquez tenses his jaw, aware that this isn't something they should be doing in a jail cell, not when the other guard could be coming at any minute. He draws away from Faraday's hand, even if that's all he currently wants nothing more than to sink into the warmth of his hand and coax Faraday into kissing the bruising until it burns, trying to replace these feelings. "Come on, we shouldn't stay here."
The last thing he needs is for them to come back and arrest Faraday with him. Not only would it make their chances of rescue slim to nothing, but he's not sure he could bear to see Faraday in a cell and awaiting punishment because of him.
He still squeezes Faraday's hand as he passes, starting to rifle through the possessions. He takes back his things, but steals more than belongs to him, feeling owed. It's a rapid business, but it helps to calm his mind a little, though the panic still is there, making him breathe harder and his vision feels like it's blurry in a haze of trying to understand what's going to happen next.
"You got the supplies, yes? Because we're definitely leaving," he says bluntly, no matter how badly he'd wanted a firm bed under his back tonight.
When Vasquez pulls away, Faraday’s startled by how much it smarts, and he stills for a long moment. The quick squeeze of his hand mollifies him, but only a little, and his expression is grim as Vasquez takes back his belongings and then some.
He’s not great at this. Navigating this... romance thing, because that’s what this is, isn’t it? A courtship. Only they’ve skip straight past the literal courting to the good part – which is for the best, considering Faraday’s relationship with patience has always been fraught. But worrying for someone, feeling terrified for someone, spending the whole day, blaming himself for being so slow, for letting this happen—
It's new to him. And he’s not entirely sure how to— do this.
As Vasquez rummages through the guard’s pockets, Faraday plucks down a pair of shackles hanging from the wall.
“Yeah,” a little gruffly, because Faraday’s still feeling the sting from Vasquez’s earlier snub. “I got the supplies.”
Faraday kneels down to cuff one of the man’s wrists to the man’s ankle. He yanks off the guard’s wild rag, while he’s at it, winding it up and tying it tightly around the man’s mouth. A tactic to slow the man down and buy them time, if they need it.
He feels a little wild and untethered, even as he tries desperately to reach towards the anchor that he wants. It's Faraday and he's so close, but that edge of desperation is killing him, making him want to be close and far at the same time. He's looming above the guard and debating whether he wants to hit him a little more, but he wants so badly to be at the horses.
Buckling his gun belt, he yanks his bag up and finds that his breath is still a little too sharp for his liking. It's dark outside and he lingers at the door because he doesn't want to go just yet.
"It was supposed to be a nice time," he says, defeated and feeling the fight starting to sink out of him. "You and I, we were supposed to get a break and I ruined it. This awful price on my head."
Faraday watches Vasquez stomp and huff around – and reasonably, Faraday is in more or less the same mood. He hardly has room to comment. But when the other man pauses in the door, looks so damnably lost, something twists in Faraday’s gut.
He closes the distance again, and though he hesitates, he rests his hand against the back of Vasquez’s neck – all the warning he offers before he yanks Vasquez in close for a bruising, desperate kiss.
There’s no argument from Faraday that Vasquez surely had the short end of the stick, here, but Faraday had spent the whole evening terrified in an ugly, visceral way – a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he was a skinny snot of a thing, too green for the hard life out west. He didn’t feel this way even on the eve of Rose Creek or the morning before the battle, not even after getting shot or blowing himself up to kingdom come, and not even when he had blearily blinked up at a too-blue sky and Vasquez’s blurry form slipped into view before unconsciousness took him.
No, it took those bastards hauling Vasquez away to who the hell knows where to make Faraday feel real, genuine fear for the first time in ages.
When Faraday pulls back, a second or two later, his thumb brushes over the line of Vasquez’s jaw.
“We’ll get it sorted,” he promises quietly. “But first thing we gotta do is get the hell outta here.”
The kiss brings some of the fight back into him. It's like Faraday is breathing the life back into him with a kiss, like a fairytale he wants to indulge in. He grabs at Faraday's shirt, scraping his blunt nails down the fabric of his shirt, tugging him in and letting out a sound like he never expected to be rescued.
Maybe a part of him had honestly thought that he wouldn't make it in time. The adrenaline of being rescued is warring with that worry and it's pumping through his veins now, which means that they need to get out. Still, not until he gets at least a little more of a kiss, leaning in for a second round as he tells himself not to push himself on Faraday and demand more.
He sees a bit of spark return to Vasquez’s eyes, and he nearly sighs in relief. Instead, he just roughly grabs hold of the other man’s hand and moves.
He crouches, staying low to the ground despite the protests of the old injury in his leg. He keeps his eyes and ears peeled for any flicker or sound of movement. It’s late, and late enough that no other soul should bother them out here, unless they’re very, very unlucky. (Faraday occasionally thinks that he’s drained his well of luck ages ago, when that first shot in the back didn’t kill him, then and there.
Getting shot again and again, blowing up a Gatling gun, and surviving? That was just rubbing salt in the wound. He hopes Lady Luck doesn’t have it out for him, after exhausting all of her good will.)
But they make it to the horses, and Jack nickers impatiently as they approach. Faraday hisses at the stallion, gestures sharply with a hand to keep the horse quiet, and Jack reluctantly complies, tossing his head a little. Beside Jack, Vasquez’s relatively calm mare stands, waiting.
“Go on,” Faraday hisses at Vasquez, nodding toward the mare, as he prepares to haul himself into Jack’s saddle.
He doesn't need to be told twice to get on the horse now that he's here. He's in such a hurry to get on that he nearly falls off the other side, struggling to make sure that he stays right. It's a mixture of the adrenaline, the panic, and the relief, but he's a little dizzy. Kicking the mare into a canter, he thinks sourly that their plans definitely went awry.
No bed, no comfort, but at least Faraday was able to get supplies while Vasquez was being waylaid in order to get him hung for killing one ranger (who deserved it). His stomach feels like it aches, but nowhere near as badly as his heart as he rides, picking up the pace.
He only stops when he can hear the horse struggling, hating that his own breathing is no longer masked and when there's miles between them and the town, he veers off course suddenly, taking his horse and guiding them to where there's a copse of trees. As soon as he's dismounted, he yanks his hat off and rubs his hands over his face again and again.
"Todo está arruinado, ¿verdad? Nunca será arreglado, esta es mi vida para siempre," he's rambling, babbling, knowing Faraday won't understand, but he'll hear the undercurrent of panic and frustration as he fumbles for a cigarette, striking match after match unsuccessfully.
Faraday is hardly bothered by their waylaid plans, but he is concerned about Vasquez, about the desperation and barely contained panic as he rides. Jack keeps up well enough, and Faraday grits his teeth as it jostles his sore leg. Still, he doesn’t fault the other man for wanting to put as much distance between themselves and the town as they can. Even if it is reckless to ride this hard in the dark.
When Vasquez takes his horse off the road, Faraday pulls Jack up short, alarmed.
“Vas,” he hisses in the dark, but when Vasquez doesn’t stop, Faraday spares only a second to look after him in concern before clicking his tongue, guiding Jack into the wooded area.
He dismounts once Vasquez does, his leg twinging but deigning to hold his weight, and he gives Jack an affectionate pat on the neck before looking to the other man. In the dim light of the moon, Vasquez sounds like a man possessed, moves around like one, too, and Faraday closes the distance between them.
“I can’t understand a word you’re sayin’,” Faraday tells him with a hint of exasperation. When Vasquez goes for another match, Faraday captures his hand, looking at him meaningfully before taking it and the box from him. His own hands are far steadier by comparison, and the match finally catches fire. The little flame glows between them, casting the two of them in a low, flickering glow.
Calming down isn't exactly what Vasquez feels capable of, but he leans in to light up the cigarette, breathing out raggedly once he's had a few puffs. He doesn't want to have to think too hard, so instead of repeating what he's been saying in Spanish, he instead keeps on smoking until he's done, putting it out on his trousers and tucking it behind his ear.
If he sags forward, if he allows himself this weakness, he knows it won't get better. Then again, none of this is going to get better. Life on the road is one thing, but a punishing life where you can never have comforts, that's another.
The trouble is, he sees the future for what it is. There are two options. He either keeps on like he was, never stopping, always hiding. Or, he goes to Rose Creek and he settles where it's safe. If he does that, he thinks he'll be losing Faraday, because he can't see the man settling. He can barely see himself settling, it's just that it's his only option.
"There's nothing to be calm about," he heatedly insists. "I nearly got killed because all I wanted was a soft bed."
Faraday leans against Jack as he waits for Vasquez to work his way through whatever the hell the man has going through his head. As a rule, Faraday isn’t a patient man, but he manages it for now. They’ve both had a hell of a day, Vasquez especially, and he can’t blame the man for needing a moment to unwind.
... Except he hardly seems to be unwinding. Hell, he looks like he’s getting even more twisted up in the reprieve Faraday offers him, and Faraday frowns in the dark, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting together.
When Vasquez finally speaks, Faraday feels himself softening a little with sympathy.
“I hear you,” he says quietly, one hand up in a placating gesture, like he’s speaking to a spooked horse. “But we got out, didn’t we? We’re fine. It’s over. We’ll just be more careful about keepin’ our heads down.”
That's the problem. They keep their heads down, they run. They do it again and again, until they die because they get exhausted. "Joshua," he breathes out, aching for touch and relief and a promise that it will all get better, but he screwed that up the moment that he'd shot that ranger. "What kind of life is that?"
What kind of life for him, but what kind of life for Faraday, too? Selfishly, Vasquez is a man infatuated and in love, he wants to protect him and to please him. This setback does neither.
"What if you'd been later? What if they'd decided to shoot?" He grunts, stroking his fingers over his mare's hair, feeling really strained. "We got lucky. I already am very lucky, I know," he swears. "I tricked myself, I think. I thought it would be different."
“Quit it,” he says quietly, without heat. “Quit thinkin’ about what might’ve happened. That won’t do neither of us any good.”
He closes the space between them again, resting a rough hand against Vasquez’s neck. Faraday keeps his touch gentle but firm in an effort to keep Vasquez from winding himself up more and more. His thumb brushes over the other man’s pulse point.
“I got there when I got there, which was just in time,” he says, certainty putting steel in his voice. “That’s all that matters, and that’s all there is to it. If this happens again? Then I’ll just keep comin’ after you. I’ll get there when I need to, and you’ll pace a trench into the ground over it, like you’re liable to do now, until you get it outta your system.”
He glares back at Faraday when he tells him to stop, because he thinks he's due for some irritation and panic, despite the fact that he doesn't want to do anything other than lean into Faraday's body, wrapping both hands around his neck like he might strangle him.
Instead, he buries his fingers in Faraday's hair and holds on tight, staring at him and trying to tell himself that Faraday's right, that they'll be fine, but they won't be. "Fuck me," he insists sharply. If he's going to calm down from this, if he's going to have half a chance at it, then he needs to be distracted.
Otherwise, he'll just think about how close he came, or he'll be stuck thinking about what his life turns into after this.
The demand startles the hell out of him, and Faraday can hardly help the bark of startled laughter that escapes him. His eyes widen, and his smile is small but disbelieving.
“What,” he asks, almost incredulous. “Now?”
Not that Faraday has any specific qualms on it, but after all the shit that just happened, he almost can’t believe what he heard. He expected at least twenty more minutes of Vasquez raging and panicking and speaking to him in tongues, but— well, if they can cut that bit out, Faraday won’t mind the loss.
"If you don't fuck me, then I'm just going to keep ranting and complaining," Vasquez warns, because he can feel it. It's a bubble of panic just on the edge of everything he knows and if he lets it consume him, it's not going to go well. If Faraday gets his hands on him, then he'll be able to ignore all the shit, put it behind him, focus on something else.
He exhales and though he'd promised to do this earlier, this definitely isn't what he had in mind when he mentioned begging. "Joshua, please," comes out wearily. "I need to have something good when my life is so shitty."
"Please?" he coaxes, fingers stroking Faraday's neck.
His expression softens all the more with the other man’s obvious desperation, with the quiet little “please,” and Faraday exhales quietly through his lips. Vasquez gets no arguments from Faraday that things today had completely gone to hell, but he hardly agrees with the man that his life is shitty. Difficult, sure. Complicated, he’ll grant that. But shitty? Hardly. And Faraday feels he’s something of an authority on the subject, considering how much time he’s spent at Vasquez’s side.
But arguing won’t get them anywhere. Vasquez clearly needs doing, not saying, and it’s a sentiment Faraday understands all too well.
“Easy, darlin’,” Faraday breathes. He rocks forward, capturing Vasquez’s lips briefly, heated and sharp with promise. “Relax. I’ve got you.”
He pulls away after that, turning to Jack and making quick work of unsaddling him. Faraday may be impatient as hell, but there are still a few basic things he understands needs taking care of. His saddle falls to the dirt with a heavy thud, and he spreads his saddle blanket on the ground after that.
“I’m not fuckin’ you,” Faraday says at length, firmly, doffing his hat and tossing it atop his saddle. There’s a wry lilt to his voice as he continues. “We’re in the middle of nowhere on the side of a road with no shortage of wild animals lurkin’ around. It’s unsanitary.”
He closes the space between them again, hooking his forefinger around the knot of the wild rag Vasquez had borrowed from him earlier in the day. He tugs the other man closer for another sharp kiss, his free hand curling a little possessively around the hinge of Vasquez’s jaw. He pulls back just enough to leave a whisper of space between them, and when he speaks, his lips still brush against Vasquez’s.
“I’ll give you the next best thing, though,” he offers, and one corner of his mouth tugs upward in a smirk. “Lie down ‘fore I change my mind.”
Better. Vasquez can already tell that this is getting better, with the kisses that he's getting. He leans forward, almost rocking into it, nipping and biting as he kisses own Faraday's jaw and to his neck, right up until he's gone. It's not that Vasquez is a man who sulks, but he feels petulant now as Faraday goes back to Jack instead of him.
There's a rude comment about the horse that he doesn't say, even if he wants to, inhaling sharply as he watches Faraday lay down the blanket. "What, you never fucked anyone dry?" It'd hurt, true, but it would keep his mind off everything else.
Still, he knows Faraday enough to know that this is a decision that he won't be swayed from, so trying is probably a stupid idea. The animals, the side of the road, the chance for passers-by, they're all dangers and after today, maybe Vasquez shouldn't be so quick to an impulse decision.
Letting his gaze fall to Faraday's lips in the scant space between them, he inhales sharply, licking his lips. "The next best thing to you fucking me?" He heads for the blanket, sitting himself down and prying off his hat as he sprawls back on his elbows, kicking one boot on top of his toes so he can look at him with intent.
"What, if you change your mind, are you going to go find someone else to do your next best thing to?" he challenges. "Maybe you could find a very sexy coyote."
He’s not too far behind Vasquez when the other man moves to the blankets. Vasquez’s sharp teasing is answered with little more than a flat, unimpressed look, though that quickly melts away into a look of appreciation as the other man lies back, looking and sounding far more at easy than he had only moments ago. Vasquez was hardly a slight man, but he was leaner than Faraday, hard, wiry muscle on a long frame. In the early days of their traveling together, he had never quite understood the warm twist he would feel low in his chest whenever he caught sight of the other man stripping down.
These days, though, now that he understands that feeling all too well – heat and want and desire – in spite of how frequently Vasquez annoyed the hell out of him.
“If you keep talkin’ like that,” Faraday says as he quickly unbuttons his vest, shrugging out of it and tossing it alongside his saddle, “I’m rollin’ right over and goin’ to sleep. I’ve had an awfully tryin’ day.”
But it’s hardly a threat, all things considered, especially not with the low rasp of his voice signaling the stirrings he feels low in his gut. And especially not with the way he closes the distance between the two of them in a couple of loping steps, straddling Vasquez’s hips and working at the fastenings of the man’s clothing.
“Now, you gonna be cooperative, or are we turnin’ in for the night?”
Vasquez might have had a trying day, too, but there's nothing like Faraday bearing in on him like that, with intent and desire in his eyes. He shifts only a little as he leans back a little more so he can stay on his elbows, but with his legs flat to the ground. Absently, he reaches up to slide his fingertips over the line of Faraday's temple, through the hair there.
It's not undressing him, it's not being cooperative, but it's showing how much Vasquez appreciates this man. "It wasn't supposed to be trying for either of us," he says, digging his nails a little firmer into Faraday's scalp as he strokes his fingers through again and again, sitting up so he can lean up to kiss him. They're steady and consistent things, but no more than a gentle brush of lips. They say I love you without him having to put it into words, because he does.
If there's any constant he holds in this world, it's that he does, and it scares the shit out of him. He's never been responsible for anything until now, and now he's gone and fallen in love with a guero that will probably get him killed.
He reaches for the bandanna around his neck to start untying it, working buttons on his shirt alternately between desperate reaching kisses. Of course, he can't give in that easy. "When am I ever cooperative, querido?"
The gentleness of Vasquez’s touch always catches him off-guard, makes something warm clench in his chest, makes it hard to breathe. Faraday isn’t used to that type of tenderness, that type of care, nor is he ever entirely sure if he deserves it. There’s a depth to Vasquez’s gestures that Faraday still doesn’t quite understand, and he still doesn’t know what to do with it all.
The other man’s token protests earn him a flat look, an unimpressed scoff, though the insistent press of Vasquez’s lips help to keep Faraday’s usual annoyances at bay. Their hands fumble with one another’s clothing, and Faraday shoves the shirt off Vasquez’s shoulders. He yanks his own shirt up and over his head, baring his mottled, patchwork skin.
(It’s easier, these days, letting the old scars show. Faraday still finds them unpleasant reminders of his brush with death, and more than that, vain creature that Faraday is, he finds them downright homely. Vasquez never seems to mind, though, and with time, Faraday’s become more and more comfortable with leaving them exposed.)
Faraday tosses their shirts aside, and he takes a moment to appreciate the sight beneath him. He smooths calloused hands down Vasquez’s chest, feeling the other man’s heartbeat like a war drum under his palm.
Impatient as he always is, with need and want fanning the flames gathering in his gut, Faraday decides enough is enough and instead goes for the buckle on the other man’s belt, working it loose and yanking the belt from the loops of Vasquez’s pants. All the while, he keeps his mouth slotted over Vasquez’s, turns that gentle press into something sharper, more intense, teeth catching on the other man’s lips, tongues sliding together.
Vasquez practically tears off at his shirt when Faraday gets it to his shoulders, not wanting it on him for a single second more when it could be off him and he could be mostly naked. Leaving it in a crumpled pile behind him, Vasquez surges up and grabs Faraday by the neck to haul him in for a messier kiss, growing frantic with every moment that passes without the clothes off every more.
Breathless, Vasquez leans back on his elbow when Faraday goes for his belt, tugging him down so that Faraday will fall on top of him, but he's not smart enough to let Faraday do this without at least one or two little remarks.
Besides, there is the part where he genuinely wants to know, "What happened to not fucking me?" is his heated and rough demand, voice hoarse.
He lets out a startled sound as Vasquez pulls him down, has to catch himself on the other man’s shoulder to avoid knocking their teeth together. Reluctant as he is to part from the other man, he growls between the press of their lips, “You ass,” before letting the kiss distract him again.
His voice, at least, betrays a tone of good humor. Apparently Faraday didn’t mind overly much, though he would almost certainly be singing a different tune if the two of them had banged their brows together.
When Vasquez pulls back enough to let that question hang between them, Faraday snorts out a laugh, pulls back just enough to let Vasquez get the full force of his flat, unimpressed look.
“I said I wasn’t gonna fuck you, sure,” he replies, voice similarly rough and heated. The cool air presses against his heated, flushed skin, and he takes a deep breath, taking in the scent of tobacco and earth and that unique crispness of the night. He reaches for the fastenings of Vasquez’s pants, fumbling a little in his hurry. “Don’t mean we don’t got other options, darlin’. My hands, for instance. Or my mouth.”
But he stops to flash Vasquez a sharp, roguish smile in the dark.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
winterfish
no subject
Date: 2018-06-21 04:48 am (UTC)That’s something, he supposes, not much, but something. It does little for the rage writhing in his belly like some ugly, caged animal.
He catches sight of Vasquez’s nod, follows the other man’s gaze to the gun on the desk, resting in its holster. Apparently the guard had taken off his gun belt while he napped. Slowly, he takes hold of the gun, watching the dozing man for signs of waking, and once it’s fully in his grasp, he reels back, slamming the butt of the gun against the man’s temple.
The man only grunts, crumbling, but Faraday grabs hold of the man’s elbow with his free hand, easing him slowly to the ground to minimize the noise. He freezes, listening, waiting, before he searches the man’s unconscious form for a set of keys.
He finally snags the ring, tucked away inside the man's vest, and he lets out out a small, triumphant sound. Faraday hurries to the cell as quietly and as quickly as he dares.
"Just so long as we're both clear," he hisses, "comin' back here was your idea."
no subject
Date: 2018-06-21 10:48 am (UTC)"Cut me free now, blame me later," he snipes back at Faraday, his joy and relief at seeing him overwhelmed at this specific moment with the irritation that Faraday's words have left in him, rubbing raw like a bad wound. He wishes that the guard had been hit harder, but if he'd died, it would've been worse.
Holding out his tied hands, he shifts to his knees and one foot to stagger to his feet clumsily, waiting to be cut loose, trying to stay somewhat in the shadows. "They took my guns, my lasso," he says. "My hat," he adds, and the bag had gone too. All his worldly possessions, which probably would've been rifled through and sold if he'd been shot, hung, or arrested.
There's a terrifying swoop in his stomach and he closes his eyes briefly, wondering what future he has. It's not a good thought, but right now, he's full of bad ones.
no subject
Date: 2018-06-22 03:46 pm (UTC)Hardly a comfort, honestly.
He slips his knife from its sheath, examining Vasquez’s wrists for the easiest section to cut. Looks like Vasquez got something of a head start, and Faraday carefully moves to work at the same section. He lets Vasquez speak, but he pauses when he hears a strange quality to the other man’s voice, a strange little hitch in his breath, and Faraday looks up from his work, startled.
“Vas,” he murmurs, an worry flares in his gut, cold and bitter. He reaches up his free hand, resting a rough palm against Vasquez’s cheek. His thumb gently brushes just beneath the worst of the bruising around Vasquez’s eye. “Hey, darlin’. C’mon. Look at me.”
no subject
Date: 2018-06-22 05:17 pm (UTC)The last thing he needs is for them to come back and arrest Faraday with him. Not only would it make their chances of rescue slim to nothing, but he's not sure he could bear to see Faraday in a cell and awaiting punishment because of him.
He still squeezes Faraday's hand as he passes, starting to rifle through the possessions. He takes back his things, but steals more than belongs to him, feeling owed. It's a rapid business, but it helps to calm his mind a little, though the panic still is there, making him breathe harder and his vision feels like it's blurry in a haze of trying to understand what's going to happen next.
"You got the supplies, yes? Because we're definitely leaving," he says bluntly, no matter how badly he'd wanted a firm bed under his back tonight.
no subject
Date: 2018-06-22 05:36 pm (UTC)He’s not great at this. Navigating this... romance thing, because that’s what this is, isn’t it? A courtship. Only they’ve skip straight past the literal courting to the good part – which is for the best, considering Faraday’s relationship with patience has always been fraught. But worrying for someone, feeling terrified for someone, spending the whole day, blaming himself for being so slow, for letting this happen—
It's new to him. And he’s not entirely sure how to— do this.
As Vasquez rummages through the guard’s pockets, Faraday plucks down a pair of shackles hanging from the wall.
“Yeah,” a little gruffly, because Faraday’s still feeling the sting from Vasquez’s earlier snub. “I got the supplies.”
Faraday kneels down to cuff one of the man’s wrists to the man’s ankle. He yanks off the guard’s wild rag, while he’s at it, winding it up and tying it tightly around the man’s mouth. A tactic to slow the man down and buy them time, if they need it.
“Horses are waiting for us down the road.”
no subject
Date: 2018-06-22 06:25 pm (UTC)Buckling his gun belt, he yanks his bag up and finds that his breath is still a little too sharp for his liking. It's dark outside and he lingers at the door because he doesn't want to go just yet.
"It was supposed to be a nice time," he says, defeated and feeling the fight starting to sink out of him. "You and I, we were supposed to get a break and I ruined it. This awful price on my head."
no subject
Date: 2018-06-22 06:54 pm (UTC)He closes the distance again, and though he hesitates, he rests his hand against the back of Vasquez’s neck – all the warning he offers before he yanks Vasquez in close for a bruising, desperate kiss.
There’s no argument from Faraday that Vasquez surely had the short end of the stick, here, but Faraday had spent the whole evening terrified in an ugly, visceral way – a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he was a skinny snot of a thing, too green for the hard life out west. He didn’t feel this way even on the eve of Rose Creek or the morning before the battle, not even after getting shot or blowing himself up to kingdom come, and not even when he had blearily blinked up at a too-blue sky and Vasquez’s blurry form slipped into view before unconsciousness took him.
No, it took those bastards hauling Vasquez away to who the hell knows where to make Faraday feel real, genuine fear for the first time in ages.
When Faraday pulls back, a second or two later, his thumb brushes over the line of Vasquez’s jaw.
“We’ll get it sorted,” he promises quietly. “But first thing we gotta do is get the hell outta here.”
no subject
Date: 2018-06-22 07:17 pm (UTC)Maybe a part of him had honestly thought that he wouldn't make it in time. The adrenaline of being rescued is warring with that worry and it's pumping through his veins now, which means that they need to get out. Still, not until he gets at least a little more of a kiss, leaning in for a second round as he tells himself not to push himself on Faraday and demand more.
"Lead the way, querido, I'll follow you."
no subject
Date: 2018-06-26 05:00 pm (UTC)He crouches, staying low to the ground despite the protests of the old injury in his leg. He keeps his eyes and ears peeled for any flicker or sound of movement. It’s late, and late enough that no other soul should bother them out here, unless they’re very, very unlucky. (Faraday occasionally thinks that he’s drained his well of luck ages ago, when that first shot in the back didn’t kill him, then and there.
Getting shot again and again, blowing up a Gatling gun, and surviving? That was just rubbing salt in the wound. He hopes Lady Luck doesn’t have it out for him, after exhausting all of her good will.)
But they make it to the horses, and Jack nickers impatiently as they approach. Faraday hisses at the stallion, gestures sharply with a hand to keep the horse quiet, and Jack reluctantly complies, tossing his head a little. Beside Jack, Vasquez’s relatively calm mare stands, waiting.
“Go on,” Faraday hisses at Vasquez, nodding toward the mare, as he prepares to haul himself into Jack’s saddle.
no subject
Date: 2018-06-26 06:11 pm (UTC)No bed, no comfort, but at least Faraday was able to get supplies while Vasquez was being waylaid in order to get him hung for killing one ranger (who deserved it). His stomach feels like it aches, but nowhere near as badly as his heart as he rides, picking up the pace.
He only stops when he can hear the horse struggling, hating that his own breathing is no longer masked and when there's miles between them and the town, he veers off course suddenly, taking his horse and guiding them to where there's a copse of trees. As soon as he's dismounted, he yanks his hat off and rubs his hands over his face again and again.
"Todo está arruinado, ¿verdad? Nunca será arreglado, esta es mi vida para siempre," he's rambling, babbling, knowing Faraday won't understand, but he'll hear the undercurrent of panic and frustration as he fumbles for a cigarette, striking match after match unsuccessfully.
no subject
Date: 2018-06-26 06:28 pm (UTC)When Vasquez takes his horse off the road, Faraday pulls Jack up short, alarmed.
“Vas,” he hisses in the dark, but when Vasquez doesn’t stop, Faraday spares only a second to look after him in concern before clicking his tongue, guiding Jack into the wooded area.
He dismounts once Vasquez does, his leg twinging but deigning to hold his weight, and he gives Jack an affectionate pat on the neck before looking to the other man. In the dim light of the moon, Vasquez sounds like a man possessed, moves around like one, too, and Faraday closes the distance between them.
“I can’t understand a word you’re sayin’,” Faraday tells him with a hint of exasperation. When Vasquez goes for another match, Faraday captures his hand, looking at him meaningfully before taking it and the box from him. His own hands are far steadier by comparison, and the match finally catches fire. The little flame glows between them, casting the two of them in a low, flickering glow.
“You gotta calm down.”
no subject
Date: 2018-06-26 06:55 pm (UTC)If he sags forward, if he allows himself this weakness, he knows it won't get better. Then again, none of this is going to get better. Life on the road is one thing, but a punishing life where you can never have comforts, that's another.
The trouble is, he sees the future for what it is. There are two options. He either keeps on like he was, never stopping, always hiding. Or, he goes to Rose Creek and he settles where it's safe. If he does that, he thinks he'll be losing Faraday, because he can't see the man settling. He can barely see himself settling, it's just that it's his only option.
"There's nothing to be calm about," he heatedly insists. "I nearly got killed because all I wanted was a soft bed."
no subject
Date: 2018-06-26 07:56 pm (UTC)... Except he hardly seems to be unwinding. Hell, he looks like he’s getting even more twisted up in the reprieve Faraday offers him, and Faraday frowns in the dark, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting together.
When Vasquez finally speaks, Faraday feels himself softening a little with sympathy.
“I hear you,” he says quietly, one hand up in a placating gesture, like he’s speaking to a spooked horse. “But we got out, didn’t we? We’re fine. It’s over. We’ll just be more careful about keepin’ our heads down.”
no subject
Date: 2018-06-26 08:17 pm (UTC)What kind of life for him, but what kind of life for Faraday, too? Selfishly, Vasquez is a man infatuated and in love, he wants to protect him and to please him. This setback does neither.
"What if you'd been later? What if they'd decided to shoot?" He grunts, stroking his fingers over his mare's hair, feeling really strained. "We got lucky. I already am very lucky, I know," he swears. "I tricked myself, I think. I thought it would be different."
no subject
Date: 2018-06-27 12:30 am (UTC)He closes the space between them again, resting a rough hand against Vasquez’s neck. Faraday keeps his touch gentle but firm in an effort to keep Vasquez from winding himself up more and more. His thumb brushes over the other man’s pulse point.
“I got there when I got there, which was just in time,” he says, certainty putting steel in his voice. “That’s all that matters, and that’s all there is to it. If this happens again? Then I’ll just keep comin’ after you. I’ll get there when I need to, and you’ll pace a trench into the ground over it, like you’re liable to do now, until you get it outta your system.”
no subject
Date: 2018-06-27 01:30 am (UTC)Instead, he buries his fingers in Faraday's hair and holds on tight, staring at him and trying to tell himself that Faraday's right, that they'll be fine, but they won't be. "Fuck me," he insists sharply. If he's going to calm down from this, if he's going to have half a chance at it, then he needs to be distracted.
Otherwise, he'll just think about how close he came, or he'll be stuck thinking about what his life turns into after this.
no subject
Date: 2018-06-29 06:41 pm (UTC)“What,” he asks, almost incredulous. “Now?”
Not that Faraday has any specific qualms on it, but after all the shit that just happened, he almost can’t believe what he heard. He expected at least twenty more minutes of Vasquez raging and panicking and speaking to him in tongues, but— well, if they can cut that bit out, Faraday won’t mind the loss.
no subject
Date: 2018-06-29 08:58 pm (UTC)He exhales and though he'd promised to do this earlier, this definitely isn't what he had in mind when he mentioned begging. "Joshua, please," comes out wearily. "I need to have something good when my life is so shitty."
"Please?" he coaxes, fingers stroking Faraday's neck.
no subject
Date: 2018-07-02 10:52 pm (UTC)But arguing won’t get them anywhere. Vasquez clearly needs doing, not saying, and it’s a sentiment Faraday understands all too well.
“Easy, darlin’,” Faraday breathes. He rocks forward, capturing Vasquez’s lips briefly, heated and sharp with promise. “Relax. I’ve got you.”
He pulls away after that, turning to Jack and making quick work of unsaddling him. Faraday may be impatient as hell, but there are still a few basic things he understands needs taking care of. His saddle falls to the dirt with a heavy thud, and he spreads his saddle blanket on the ground after that.
“I’m not fuckin’ you,” Faraday says at length, firmly, doffing his hat and tossing it atop his saddle. There’s a wry lilt to his voice as he continues. “We’re in the middle of nowhere on the side of a road with no shortage of wild animals lurkin’ around. It’s unsanitary.”
He closes the space between them again, hooking his forefinger around the knot of the wild rag Vasquez had borrowed from him earlier in the day. He tugs the other man closer for another sharp kiss, his free hand curling a little possessively around the hinge of Vasquez’s jaw. He pulls back just enough to leave a whisper of space between them, and when he speaks, his lips still brush against Vasquez’s.
“I’ll give you the next best thing, though,” he offers, and one corner of his mouth tugs upward in a smirk. “Lie down ‘fore I change my mind.”
no subject
Date: 2018-07-02 11:07 pm (UTC)There's a rude comment about the horse that he doesn't say, even if he wants to, inhaling sharply as he watches Faraday lay down the blanket. "What, you never fucked anyone dry?" It'd hurt, true, but it would keep his mind off everything else.
Still, he knows Faraday enough to know that this is a decision that he won't be swayed from, so trying is probably a stupid idea. The animals, the side of the road, the chance for passers-by, they're all dangers and after today, maybe Vasquez shouldn't be so quick to an impulse decision.
Letting his gaze fall to Faraday's lips in the scant space between them, he inhales sharply, licking his lips. "The next best thing to you fucking me?" He heads for the blanket, sitting himself down and prying off his hat as he sprawls back on his elbows, kicking one boot on top of his toes so he can look at him with intent.
"What, if you change your mind, are you going to go find someone else to do your next best thing to?" he challenges. "Maybe you could find a very sexy coyote."
no subject
Date: 2018-07-02 11:20 pm (UTC)These days, though, now that he understands that feeling all too well – heat and want and desire – in spite of how frequently Vasquez annoyed the hell out of him.
“If you keep talkin’ like that,” Faraday says as he quickly unbuttons his vest, shrugging out of it and tossing it alongside his saddle, “I’m rollin’ right over and goin’ to sleep. I’ve had an awfully tryin’ day.”
But it’s hardly a threat, all things considered, especially not with the low rasp of his voice signaling the stirrings he feels low in his gut. And especially not with the way he closes the distance between the two of them in a couple of loping steps, straddling Vasquez’s hips and working at the fastenings of the man’s clothing.
“Now, you gonna be cooperative, or are we turnin’ in for the night?”
no subject
Date: 2018-07-02 11:34 pm (UTC)It's not undressing him, it's not being cooperative, but it's showing how much Vasquez appreciates this man. "It wasn't supposed to be trying for either of us," he says, digging his nails a little firmer into Faraday's scalp as he strokes his fingers through again and again, sitting up so he can lean up to kiss him. They're steady and consistent things, but no more than a gentle brush of lips. They say I love you without him having to put it into words, because he does.
If there's any constant he holds in this world, it's that he does, and it scares the shit out of him. He's never been responsible for anything until now, and now he's gone and fallen in love with a guero that will probably get him killed.
He reaches for the bandanna around his neck to start untying it, working buttons on his shirt alternately between desperate reaching kisses. Of course, he can't give in that easy. "When am I ever cooperative, querido?"
no subject
Date: 2018-07-12 07:26 pm (UTC)The other man’s token protests earn him a flat look, an unimpressed scoff, though the insistent press of Vasquez’s lips help to keep Faraday’s usual annoyances at bay. Their hands fumble with one another’s clothing, and Faraday shoves the shirt off Vasquez’s shoulders. He yanks his own shirt up and over his head, baring his mottled, patchwork skin.
(It’s easier, these days, letting the old scars show. Faraday still finds them unpleasant reminders of his brush with death, and more than that, vain creature that Faraday is, he finds them downright homely. Vasquez never seems to mind, though, and with time, Faraday’s become more and more comfortable with leaving them exposed.)
Faraday tosses their shirts aside, and he takes a moment to appreciate the sight beneath him. He smooths calloused hands down Vasquez’s chest, feeling the other man’s heartbeat like a war drum under his palm.
Impatient as he always is, with need and want fanning the flames gathering in his gut, Faraday decides enough is enough and instead goes for the buckle on the other man’s belt, working it loose and yanking the belt from the loops of Vasquez’s pants. All the while, he keeps his mouth slotted over Vasquez’s, turns that gentle press into something sharper, more intense, teeth catching on the other man’s lips, tongues sliding together.
no subject
Date: 2018-07-12 11:14 pm (UTC)Breathless, Vasquez leans back on his elbow when Faraday goes for his belt, tugging him down so that Faraday will fall on top of him, but he's not smart enough to let Faraday do this without at least one or two little remarks.
Besides, there is the part where he genuinely wants to know, "What happened to not fucking me?" is his heated and rough demand, voice hoarse.
no subject
Date: 2018-07-12 11:37 pm (UTC)His voice, at least, betrays a tone of good humor. Apparently Faraday didn’t mind overly much, though he would almost certainly be singing a different tune if the two of them had banged their brows together.
When Vasquez pulls back enough to let that question hang between them, Faraday snorts out a laugh, pulls back just enough to let Vasquez get the full force of his flat, unimpressed look.
“I said I wasn’t gonna fuck you, sure,” he replies, voice similarly rough and heated. The cool air presses against his heated, flushed skin, and he takes a deep breath, taking in the scent of tobacco and earth and that unique crispness of the night. He reaches for the fastenings of Vasquez’s pants, fumbling a little in his hurry. “Don’t mean we don’t got other options, darlin’. My hands, for instance. Or my mouth.”
But he stops to flash Vasquez a sharp, roguish smile in the dark.
“Unless you got any complaints?”
(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: