Chapter Text
Jedediah and Octavius hit the searing vent panel with a metallic thud that’s barely audible over the sound of heat pushing them down. The layer of dust coating it is more on the thin side, but the two of them are small enough that it sticks to their clothes without a problem. It feels a little like cotton.
“This is the end, boy!” Jed yells over the noise. “This is the last roundup!”
…
“Hold my hand!”
…??!?
Okay, now Jedediah’s heart is pounding for a whole new reason.
He’d like to do that. He wants to do that so, so badly. If he can’t die in Octavius’s arms, he at least wants to die hand in hand. But the stupid yellow-bellied part of himself makes him spit out a mildly weirded-out, “Why??”
Octavius’s silence shoots through Jed’s ears like an arrow. “Nevermind,” he says, and Jed wants to take it back, wants to say “okay” and lace their fingers together, but in that moment, the air shuts off, and they both fall to the bottom of the vent.
Jedediah hops up and starts brushing himself off, angrily spitting the dust out of his mouth. He sighs, then looks at Octavius, who’s making an effort not to make eye contact. Neither of them have ever questioned their habit of touching each other before. Jed usually hates that kind of stuff. It was always a sure-fire method of riling him up until he and Octavius became friends, and then…
Well, he still hates it, but he knows he likes it when Octavius is the one doing the touching. He’s the only exception. Jed sometimes wonders if he knows that. His initiations of contact are tender and end as soon as they start. Fingers ghosting his arm, a light pat on the back, a single friendly shove. The warmth always lingers, though, and it always leaves Jed wanting more, so he’ll return the favor and sling an arm around his shoulder or ruffle his hair or just straight up hug him. It’s his way of letting Octavius know that it’s allowed. Maybe Octavius never got that. Maybe that question was his way of saying that, and Jedediah fucked up.
“Did you ask me to hold your hand?” he asks, to make sure he really did hear right. (And maybe he’s also hoping to talk about it before they get a move on.)
Octavius answers with a hesitant and very unconvincing “No.” Jedediah has to stop himself from kicking the ground when his friend walks ahead without him.
Their brief stop at Iiepwop turns out to be pretty interesting. Jedediah enjoys the moment of respite he gets with Octavius, goofing off and making fun of people. The general’s laugh almost makes Jed forget that they’re thousands of miles away from home. It’s fun until the lava shows up. Lava’s always a mood ruiner, Jed thinks.
He’s honestly not scared at all until they end up cornering themselves. A beautifully built stone wall blocks their path as lava pools in behind them. Jedediah wants to spout some bullshit made-up cowboy lingo, because that always makes Octavius smile, but when he looks over, he’s breathing heavily, brown eyes flickering around in panic. That knocks some sense into Jed. There’s no time for goofing off anymore.
“‘Tavius?” he says. “‘Tavi. Kemosabe.” Yeah, alright, he might be stalling. He clears his throat; it’s a little painful. “There’s somethin’ you should–”
A high pitched chitter rings out from above before Jedediah can get the rest out. From the billowing smoke, Dexter appears, his little canines poking out in front of his lips in an awfully nefarious grin.
…Jed is sworn to secrecy and isn’t able (or willing) to discuss the rest. It’s a stain on his dignity. And his clothes. That’s all he’ll say. What’s important is he and Octavius are alive, and he has once again avoided expressing his feelings. All’s well that ends well, he guesses.
The very first thing Lancelot does is laugh. He straight up laughs at Jedediah and Octavius. Where in the blazes did he get that audacity from? Just because he’s a little bigger than them doesn’t mean he’s all that. Learn some manners. Jeez.
“Now wait a second!” yells Jedediah, spinning on his heel to look at the knight as he breezes past them. He takes a few steps in his direction but quickly gives up the chase. He (unfortunately) knows that he would never catch up to him at his size. “Come back here! This ain’t over!”
Next to him, Octavius outstretches an arm and points his sword at Lancelot. “You’ll rue the day you mocked us with your huge sword and hypnotic blue eyes!”
Jedediah gives his friend a look. Octavius’s arm drops, along with his expression, as if he didn’t intend to say that. “...His eyes are very blue,” he says. Jed just huffs.
He can’t get that comment off his mind the entire time they’re chasing Lancelot down. It doesn’t help that Octavius just keeps going on and on about him. He seems to really fancy that guy, and Jed wants to say that the anger building up in his chest isn’t jealousy. He’d prefer if it was just the regular kind of hate, the kind you feel when you see any ol’ thief. That’d be way easier to handle.
He knows he doesn’t deserve to feel this mad. It’s not like they’re dating. Octaivus doesn’t have a clue how Jedediah feels, anyway. He’s not doing anything wrong, so why can’t Jedediah shake off the thought of climbing up Lancelot’s stupid shiny armor and strangling him?
Back on Attila’s hat, Jed takes a deep breath and clenches his fists. He’ll have time to do something about that later.
Or not.
It’s cold out. Jedediah isn’t used to this type of weather. Sometimes it gets a little chilly in the museum, during the winter when the AC’s temperature is set too low, but it was never anywhere close to this. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.
He and Octavius are laying flat on their backs. There’s a bunch of commotion going on around them but he’s not listening. Not until it’s replaced with an unsettling silence.
It’s hard to move. He works at twitching his fingers until he can move his hand, then his arm. He tries to glance down at Octavius. He sees that helmet again. Those obnoxiously endearing feathers. He can almost hear upbeat music.
There’s so much he wants to say. He wants to apologize, most of all, for being a coward his whole life. He doesn’t have the energy to form more than a few coherent words. “I’ll take that hand now,” he says.
He wishes his gloves were off for this. Octavius squeezes his hand, and Jed imagines carding his fingers through the curls of his greying hair again. Lord, what he wouldn’t give for that.
They live, somehow. They’re alive but they’re only being granted a few extra hours to get home, and then it’ll be over again. Part of Jedediah is okay with that. The rest of him is terrified.
He spends the whole trip home thinking about what to say to Octavius because he’s tired of being scared, and if they’re not gonna wake up again, this really is Jed’s last chance. He’s gone through lots of “last chances” tonight. Ha. It’s like the universe wanted to test his courage before the real thing. Maybe Octavius sleeping on his shoulder on the way home is a test, too. Jed spends a long time with both arms wrapped around his middle. He holds him because he’ll never get this chance again.
Saying goodbye to Larry is tough, but it’s nothing Jedediah can’t handle. He doesn’t even tear up when his hug with one of his giant fingers is over. That there just shows how brave I am, he tells himself. He doesn’t really believe it. Not after how long he spent running.
“‘Tavius,” Jed says as soon as Larry leaves his line of sight, “We gotta talk.”
The look of melancholy on Octavius’s face is familiar. He likes to act all dramatic like that, but Jedediah knows this isn’t the same. This is genuine. He knits his eyebrows together and quietly repeats, “Talk?”
Jed nods. He lets himself stand in silence for just a moment longer. “Y’know, I’ve had a whole bunch of chances to say this tonight, what with all the times we just about died, but… Look, I’ll be honest.” He inhales sharply. The words are desperate to stay inside. They’re scrambling to get a hold on something, to stay hidden. It makes him think back to the only time he ever tried to ask for advice about this. He huffs out a laugh because he’s not even at the hardest part of the conversation yet and he already wants to turn and run. “I was scared. I was more scared of things changin’ or of you thinkin’ less of me than I was of kickin’ the bucket. But, boy, I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t tell you this now, when we actually know it’s the end.”
Octavius is staring at him with a completely unreadable expression. Jedediah’s eyes sting and his heart ache swells to a point as he says, “I love you.”
“Jedediah–”
His voice trembles. Jed holds up a hand and tugs his Stetson over his face. “Don’t. Don’t you say anything. I don’t want you turnin’ me down to be our last memory together, alright?” Well, that’s part of it. He also just doesn’t want to be turned down at all.
“But–”
“That's all. Get on back to Rome, now.” He turns and allows himself to walk away, now that he’s proved that he could say it. He could’ve said it all that time. His face feels wet.
“Cari–”
“I said get!”
Jedediah doesn’t mean to yell that. He doesn’t mean to stamp his boot against the ground, either, and he sure as hell doesn’t mean to let a sob claw its way out of his throat. He runs, because it’s all he has control over now. By the time he gets to the entrance of the Hall of Miniatures, his legs are on fire, and he’s wiped his eyes clean of any shameful tears that might’ve been there.
His body begins to stiffen. He straightens up and crosses his arms in his usual daytime pose. He tries desperately not to think of Octavius’s shaky, woeful voice calling out for him.