Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Scott was late for the meeting.

While everyone else bickered politely about trade rates and borders, Jimmy stared across the table at an empty seat.

It shouldn’t have bothered him like it did. Aside from the occasional glance at the open space, no one else seemed to think twice about his absence.

Why couldn’t he stop his eyes from straying to it?

Gem halted the meeting for what felt like the hundredth time. She told off whoever had made a disrespectful comment—Joey, this time—while Katherine attempted damage control. It wouldn’t discourage them from doing it in the future, but Jimmy respected the effort.

Scott would be there eventually, he told himself. And even if he wasn’t, why should it matter to him?

He’d show up, nonchalant and uncaring and bored from the first word, and everyone could stop their useless worrying.

At least, the Sheriff could. He couldn’t care less what everyone else did.

The meeting had only just started; Scott had plenty of time to arrive.

Jimmy sank into his seat and prepared for another long, boring afternoon.

⚡

Scott, evidently, did not show up.

His seat remained frustratingly empty for the entire meeting, drawing more and more eyes until, by the end, they couldn’t get any real work done without somebody asking about mayor Scott.

“Is there an issue in Chromia?” False asked with a tilt of her head.

“Must be.” FWhip shrugged. “He’s never skipped a meeting before.”

“As much as he hates them.” Joey added on with a laugh, his arm slung around the back of his chair.

Questions arose, one by one, growing from ‘is he okay? Is he sick?’ to ‘does this mean he wants out of the alliance? Is he planning war as we speak?’

Jimmy scoffed at the rising volume, rulers fighting to be louder than each other. Scott wouldn’t wage war on anybody; worst case scenario, he got held up with something and had to pass on the meeting.

If only he could have done the same. There were plenty of places he would rather be, and plenty of things he would prefer to be doing.

“Alright, alright, everybody take a breath.” Gem sighed, her lip twitching as she spoke. “What Mayor Scott does on his own time is his business, and it’s unbecoming of us to theorize about what horrible things he could be up to.”

Katherine nodded energetically, a slightly strained smile on her face.

“Yeah! I’m sure he’s had a busy day, and the meeting just slipped his mind. He’ll be back next time, and it’ll all be great!” She pushed herself up from the table.

The other rulers grumbled slightly between themselves, but stood up and brushed themselves off as the princesses led everyone to the door.

“We’ll see you all next time, and I’m sure mayor Scott will join us.” Gem said, folding her hands in front of her. “And I would urge you not to bother him.”

She sent a pointed glare Sausage’s way; more specifically, at the bird that sat on his shoulder. It squawked out a garbled “urge you to bother him! Urge you to bother him!” and Sausage simply laughed before directing a smile at Gem and Katherine, thanking them for their hospitality, and skipping out of the meeting hall.

The princesses rolled their eyes.

For some odd reason, Jimmy felt himself lingering. His footsteps stuttered on the way to the door, and when he reached for the handle, he hesitated midway.

After a moment’s contemplation, he turned around.

Gem and Katherine stood a few steps away, muttering between themselves. When they noticed the Sheriff still standing in their meeting room, they turned his way with inquisitive looks.

“Sheriff James?” Katherine said. “Do you need something?”

Gem picked up where she left off.

“We do have our own kingdoms to run, Emperor Jimmy. If you have something to say, spit it out.” She all but demanded, folding her arms over her chest.

Though it may have once intimidated him, Jimmy knew he had no real reason to be afraid of them. Katherine was a sweetheart all the way down, and Gem had her soft sides too; mostly, for the young princess standing next to her.

He didn’t know exactly what their relationship was, but they reminded him strangely of himself and Martyn.

One of these days, he would remember to ask them.

“No, no, I’m alright.” He said instead. “But, uh… I guess I’m just—just a bit worried, is all.”

They looked at him strangely for a moment. Then, a look of realization shifted Katherine’s face from confused to understanding.

“Oh, that whole thing.” She said with a smile. “You know, I didn’t really trust anyone else to check up on him, but if it’s you…”

She glanced at Gem and nudged her in the ribs, and a second later, her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Oh, right, of course. We didn’t want mayor Scott to be overrun by paranoid rulers, you see; a courtesy we would extend to anyone in our alliance.” She added on.

Katherine nodded sagely, but a new sort of energy bubbled under her skin.

“But we do want someone to see how he’s doing.” She leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes shifting around as though someone would overhear.

From this close, Jimmy could smell her perfume. Something flowery and sweet, with a faint undertone of an ashy, bitter smell. It reminded him of the ladies in town after they hugged their husbands that had just made it out of the coal mines or the creeper farms.

It didn’t make much sense to smell on a princess, but he generously ignored that part.

“Would you be willing to make a pitstop on your way home?” She asked quietly.

A light flared behind her eyes, and a glance in Gem’s direction showed that she felt the same way. It wouldn’t be too horrible, surely; Jimmy didn’t hate the mayor, by any means, though he was less than pleased with his frequent visits. Chromia was fairly out of the way, considering his usual route home, but it was early, and it wouldn’t take much time to check in for a bit.

Really, he didn’t have any reason to say no.

“I’ll think about it.” He muttered, leaning away from the princesses and finally turning the knob to the door. “Let you know if something’s going on, eh?”

Katherine laughed, and a soft, sarcastic grin made its way onto Gem’s face.

“Yes siree, partner!” Katherine giggled, tipping her invisible hat. “Report back any information you find!”

Jimmy tipped his hat back at her and waved goodbye to Gem, then made his way quickly out the door.

All the rulers had left already. Bullseye was the only one that greeted him in the stables, and he couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Just a quick errand to run, okay? Then we’ll be back in Tumble Town, quick as lightning.” He whispered as he patted his neck and led him out of the pen.

Bullseye said nothing, of course, but he figured he wouldn’t mind.

He seemed to like Scott; or at least the treats he hid in his bag.

It would be a small detour, he reminded himself. Then they could get back on track.

Just a little pitstop.

It wouldn’t take long.

⚡

Jimmy had severely underestimated how long this little ‘detour’ would take.

He had to get directions from four different people along the road, including a goblin that charged him a hefty fee for it.

A fee he couldn’t pay, of course, so he had to bargain for the information with whatever was in his saddlebag.

After nearly twenty minutes of haggling and the goblin telling him how poor he was, he had asked out of frustration if there was anything he could give them. They looked him over once and demanded his badge.

Immediately, he shut the idea down.

Tumble town wasn’t hurting for gold, but he had still fought tooth and nail for another option. It was a point of pride to see the star glittering on his vest; though, he supposed he didn’t have that either. It looked slightly sad, sticking out on the pocket of his bare shirt.

He asked if there was something else, anything else he could exchange for directions. They said nothing and held out their hands expectantly.

Eventually, he handed it over, much to his own chagrin.

After that painful interaction, he had been directed East; the opposite way he wanted to be going.

He would go back to Tumble Town if he could. If he had the opportunity, he would leave right then and go home, back to his little wooden house and the town that had raised him.

But then he thought of Scott, potentially sick or stressed out of his mind. He thought of the other rulers spreading rumours behind his back, conspiracies about all the horrible things he could be plotting against them.

“Just a bit longer, buddy.” He grumbled, patting Bullseye’s neck.

It was about to be a long day.

But, then again, he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d had a leisurely afternoon. The last time he had tried to get some rest, he ended up dislocating his shoulder and nearly arresting someone.

Before that, there was the evening spent with Pixl Riffs. It had been much more peaceful than anything else he could think of, but with the amount of confusing new information shoved in his head, it also wasn’t the calmest.

And then the festival, of course.

It had been… nice, for lack of a better word. The spiked drinks had made room for themselves by pushing his memory out of the way, so when he thought back to the night, most of what came up was simply blank.

He remembered some faces, and a shockingly sobering conversation, firelight flickering in the distance. He remembered laughing at disjointed dancing, challenging someone to Martyn’s favourite drinking game, the pride filling his head like helium when he won.

Past it all, a memory tickled the edge of his mind, running spectral fingers along it for long enough to be noticed, but remain undefined. Jimmy reached for it, searching, and for just a moment, he saw a flash of long blue hair sprawled out across his lap, a porcelain-perfect face flushed from the night, and a patchwork hat lying next to his own.

Bullseye stopped abruptly, stamping the ground. Jimmy blinked back to himself and squinted down the road.

“What’s up, Bull?” He asked, running his hand up and down Bullseye’s neck. “See something?”

He put a hand up to block the sun from his eyes, but even with the minor reprieve it allowed, he couldn’t see anything that the horse would find interesting. When he glanced at Bullseye to see where he was looking, to his surprise, his eyes were directed straight upwards, into the clouds above them.

Jimmy looked, and saw nothing at all.

With nothing else to do, he nudged Bullseye’s side with his boots, and he reluctantly continued down the path.

Fields of grass spanned out for miles in every direction, and a large hill loomed over them. Bullseye picked up the pace by just a bit, eager to get away from where they had been.

In the blink of an eye, they reached the top, and they both heaved a sigh of relief at finally reaching their destination.

Jimmy hopped off Bullseye’s back and grabbed his reigns. He scanned the paved roads and colourful buildings in search of a stable, but nothing seemed quite right for holding horses.

“Hello!” A voice piped up behind him, and he jumped at the unexpected noise. His hand flew to his pistol and he whipped around, suddenly facing down what looked to be a brightly coloured child.

They laughed at his surprise, waving away any worries with an easy smile. Jimmy attempted to return some semblance of composure by slipping his pistol back into its holster and running a hand through his hair.

“It’s nice to meet you!” They said cheerfully, looping back around to be in front of Bullseye.

“Right, uh… pleasure.” He cleared his throat. “And what’s your name?”

Tumble Town hospitality, burned into his mind. He didn’t particularly care what this child said, unless they told him how to find Scott, but he couldn’t be rude and then expect them to help.

To his mild surprise, their eyes widened at the question. They stood still for a moment, glancing around the streets, before turning back to him with a slightly strained smile.

“Kebble. The name’s Kebble. You’re new here, aren’t you?” They asked.

“Well, I’m not—uh, not sticking around, just checking in.” He fumbled. Bullseye nudged his cheek and he laughed, and a bit of tension seemed to drain out of Kebble’s posture.

“Aha! A traveler, eh?” They leaned towards him, suddenly interested in his arrival. “Well, I assure you we have all the wares you could possibly need on your journey! Where are you riding in from? Where are you headed? How much coin have you got on you? What’s your horse’s name?”

Jimmy’s mouth opened and closed as they moved an eager hand towards Bullseye’s mane. They both edged away from the child, leaning in tandem out of their reach.

Kebble’s eyes widened once more, but the tension broke quickly, and they smiled up at him.

“Right then, no touchy. Got it.” They flashed him a grin. “What are you doing here then? Chromia doesn’t usually have much to ‘check in’ on.”

After a brief moment, Jimmy straightened his posture and pulled Bullseye closer.

“Just here to check on mayor Scott. He didn’t show up to the meeting today, and people got…” He paused, squinting at Kebble as their eyes flickered between his face and Bullseye’s saddle bag.

Abruptly, he spun around and caught another child by the collar, even smaller than the first. They gasped in sync with Kebble, and he glared at them as they dangled from his fist.

“Worried.” He finished tightly.

Immediately, Kebble dashed in front of Jimmy, plastering on a wide smile and attempting to take the smaller child out of his grip.

“Right, right, of course! Well, mayor Scott isn’t in town today, so if you would just put him down—”

“What do you mean mayor Scott isn’t here?” Jimmy interrupted, his brow furrowing. “Where else would he be?”

Frustration seemed to leak into Kebble’s posture, and they tugged more insistently on the smaller child’s arm, though the Sheriff’s grasp stayed firm.

“He’s at the fields today, must have lost track of time—now, just set him down, please—”

“Calm down.” He said, hopefully sounding less tired than he was. “I ain’t hurting anybody.”

He shifted, and both children gasped quietly. Every ounce of tension had leaked back into the atmosphere, and Jimmy felt an equal amount of guilt leak into his chest.

“Alright, alright. Who’s this?” He asked, using his other hand to point at the smaller child.

“Kip—that’s Kip, and he’s afraid of heights, so if you’d let go of him—”

“You related?” He interrupted again. Kebble seemed to be getting increasingly frustrated, but likely prioritized Kip’s safety over their own dignity. Jimmy could respect that.

“Yes! Yes, he’s my brother, now would you let him down?” They finally exclaimed, stamping their foot on the ground.

Jimmy looked them up and down, then glanced towards Kip. The child looked absolutely terrified, and the sight brought him back to himself somewhat. He nearly felt bad for them; he would leave them both alone as soon as he returned them to their parents, and made sure this wouldn’t happen again.

“Who’s your ma?” He asked, squinting down either side of the street.

“Don’t have one.” Kebble said plainly. Their hands still sat in the empty air, open and expecting the weight of their brother to drop into their arms.

“Don’t have one?” Jimmy repeated. “Who doesn’t have a ma?”

“We don’t. We have two dads, no ‘ma’s. Is that a problem?” They crossed their arms over their chest, staring Jimmy down, daring him to say he had an issue with it.

All things considered, he didn’t have anything wrong with the idea. He had never seen it before; two papas, no mamas—it didn’t quite make sense. But, he supposed, if the children were well taken care of, he had no say in the matter.

And, the little voice in his head whispered, it wasn’t like he had a ma either. At least these kids had someone to fill in the spot.

“No problems, none at all.” He started, before his hand darted out to grab the back of Kebble’s collar, mirroring his grip on their brother. “No point having any parents at all if they don’t teach you simple respect.”

Kebble gasped and struggled, but ultimately sighed, letting their limbs dangle in the air.

“Man, who even are you?” They asked angrily. “You’re definitely not from around here.”

Jimmy snorted.

“Nah, not from around here. Name’s Jimmy, Sheriff of Tumble Town.” He said, a measured dose of pride leaking into his tone.

The child laughed, a sharp bark, and continued their struggle to be let go.

“Yeah, you seem like a cop.” They said. Jimmy felt the disdain in their voice.

“Yeah?” He challenged. “What gave it away?”

Kebble looked him up and down as well as they could from their position. After a moment, they looked back out to the busy streets.

“You dress different, and most people who aren’t from Chromia are just traveling through. If they’re not, like you,” They jabbed a finger at his chest, “Then they’re here for some sort of investigation or whatever. Plus, your boots are all dirty but they’re still high-quality, and your jeans are thinning around the knees, but haven’t ripped through.”

“What’s that mean?” Jimmy questioned with a furrowed brow.

“It means,” Kebble continued, rolling their eyes, “That they’re also high-quality—the kind of thing only official kind of people can buy. Also, your horse’s bag says ‘Sheriff’ on it.”

For a moment, Jimmy sat in disbelief.

He hadn’t realized that someone could get such an easy read on him just by looking at his clothes and his horse. Sure, his things were high-quality, but so was everything in Tumble Town; when people made things specialized for themselves and their friends, it was natural to put extra time and better materials into it.

“Alright, that was pretty impressive.” He admitted. Kebble, likely despite their own frustrations towards the law, preened under the compliment.

“I know.” They said. “Gotta be observant around here.”

Jimmy nodded. Observational skills were useful everywhere, but he got the feeling that Chromia had another layer to it; one only visible to the trained eye.

“I believe it.” He breathed. “Now, you said this fella’s afraid of heights?” He asked, gesturing towards Kip.

“Yes, he is, so I’d appreciate it if you put him down.” Kebble replied, their angry, protective demeanor returning full force.

“Is he afraid of horses?”

Kebble paused, glancing between Jimmy, their brother, and Bullseye, who stood patiently beside them.

“Uh… dunno? We’ve never… uh… ridden one.” They finally decided on.

After a moment’s consideration, Jimmy shrugged, deciding that this worked in his favour, and plopped them both on Bullseye’s saddle, grabbing the reigns and wrapping them around his hand.

Kebble’s eyes widened to the size of wagon wheels, and Kip immediately flipped around and wrapped himself tightly in his sibling’s arms.

“Where do you two buttons live?” Jimmy asked. His eyes ran up and down the streets, and his feet took him further into the town.

“I don’t know why that’s your business.” Kebble said confidently, but Bullseye shifted slightly, and their grip tightened around his saddle’s pommel.

“It’s my business because you two ankle biters were rifling through my bag like it belonged to you!” He exclaimed. For the briefest second, both children’s eyes locked on a house down the street, and he beelined for the front door. “So, if my items are your business, then it’s my business to make sure you get properly told off for it.”

“Woah, woah, where’re you headed?” Kebble asked, the edge of their voice shaking. “We don’t live here!”

Jimmy scoffed and knocked loudly on the door.

“Yeah, you do. Both of you looked at this place like it was gonna swallow you up.” He explained. Kip and Kebble stayed silent, but it was enough of a tell.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the house, deliberately making their way towards the front door. Whispered words filtered through the dark purple wood; quiet enough to be indecipherable, but loud enough to know that someone was on the other side. Likely, more than just someone.

A moment passed, Kebble still frantically trying—and failing—to convince Jimmy that they didn’t live here, and Jimmy resolutely ignoring their arguments, before the door swung open to reveal two men on the other side.

“Can we help you?” The first one said, looking up at Jimmy with a suspicious glare.

“Depends.” He pointed up to Kip and Kebble, still sitting uncomfortably on Bullseye’s back. “Are these yours?”

The first man glanced to the side, his eyes widening by the smallest fraction before returning to their uninterested gaze. Kip reached his arms out and the second man gathered him into his own arms carefully, then backed into the house, returning to the first man’s side.

“Yes.” He said, arms folded over his chest. “And what are they doing with you?”

Jimmy grabbed Kebble under their arms and plopped them in the doorway, then returned his grip to Bullseye’s reigns and nudged the child inside with his boot.

“These scoundrels were rifling through my bag.” He growled, squinting between the kids before looking back up to the two men. “Thought I ought to return them, make sure they don’t make it a habit.”

The first man’s eyes widened, and he glared down at Kebble.

“You got caught?” He asked incredulously. “Kebbie, gioia, you’ve got to stop doing this.”

Jimmy nodded stiffly, and the man’s attention turned back to him, gesturing with one hand and pushing Kebble into the house with the other.

“I’m so sorry, we’ve talked to him about this, but we’ll make sure to talk long and hard again.” He said apologetically.

“Don’t sweat it none. Kids are unpredictable.” Jimmy responded with a shrug. “Just gotta take the opportunities to set them right.”

The man nodded vehemently.

“I agree completely. In fact,” he waved to the other man, who had been talking quietly with Kip, “Cela, cuore mio, take Kip and Kebble to the kitchen for a moment, would you?”

The other man—Cela?—nodded with a smile, then took Kebble’s hand, Kip still wrapped around his torso, leaned in to kiss the first man’s cheek, and led the kids further into the house. As they moved out of view, Kebble glared at Jimmy and threw their hand up in a gesture he didn’t recognize, before he was swallowed by the house.

A moment later, the quiet sounds of a pot hitting a stove echoed out the door, and Jimmy heard an even quieter conversation taking place beyond the walls.

“Again, I can’t apologize enough for them.” The man said as he leaned against the doorframe. “We keep telling them not to get caught, but…”

Jimmy nodded and tipped his hat.

“No need to apologize, I know this isn’t your fault. Kids do things like this all the time back in Tumble Town.” He explained.

“Tumble Town?” The man asked with a raised brow. “The little mesa village down South?”

“The very one.” He replied. “I’m the sheriff down there. Just passing through here, I’ll be out of your hair before you knew I was there.”

The man laughed, then held his hand out to shake. Jimmy took it easily, and distantly noted the man’s firm grip.

“Runello Dieng, pleasure to meet you. That was my husband, Cela, and you already met our little troublemakers.” He sighed, a hint of begrudging fondness in his tone.

“Fine kids.” Jimmy smiled.

“I sure hope so. They’re like that because of me, after all.” He grinned as though he was telling an inside joke to a close friend, and not a stranger on his doorstep.

It seemed to work as he expected, however, as Jimmy felt a smile stretch across his own face.

“Anyway, now that we’ve got that out of the way…” He rolled his eyes, smile still present on his face, “Is there anything I can do for you? Any way to make up the time you’ve lost?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you. It was no skin off my back, really.” He waved off the sentiment, but after a moment, his brows furrowed and he opened his mouth again. “Though… well, I may have one question.”

Runello nodded, gesturing for him to continue, and Jimmy took a breath.

“I’m only wondering if you know where mayor Scott is. Kebble said he wasn’t here, but I can’t think of where else he could be.” He asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh, mayor Scott!” Runello said, smiling even at the mention. “Yes, he’s at the fields today. I can give you directions if you’d like?”

Jimmy practically melted with relief.

“That’d be perfect, thank you.” He smiled.

Bullseye nudged his hand and blew out a puff of air.

They’d be out of here soon enough, Jimmy silently promised. Then they could get back to Tumble Town, and it would all be just fine.

⚡

Runello gave him directions to the flower fields and said goodbye with a wave.

Kip and Kebble poked their heads out the door as he was leaving; Kip, to give a timid wave, and Kebble, to stick his tongue out at him before he was out of view.

The Sheriff returned the gesture, of course. He wouldn’t be shown up by a child.

He kept a firm grip on Bullseye’s reigns, but left his feet on the ground. He wouldn’t be able to admire the intricate roads from so high up, he justified. They wound through the city like one huge mosaic, terracotta orange and red standing out against the pale wood of the surrounding buildings. It brought a smile to his face; they would fit right in with the fountains back home.

Jimmy paused in the middle of the street.

Tumble Town didn’t have fountains, did it?

He remembered them vaguely; huge, ivory white fountains that towered over him, with beautifully stained ceramic shards below the water. He hadn’t seen them recently, of course, but they could have been removed for any number of reasons since he was a child. Maybe Tumble Town just couldn’t spare the water, or needed the tiles for something else.

Why would they build something so grand in the first place? They had never been the type to show off.

It could have been a special feature, he supposed. A decorative piece that was deemed unnecessary, or a remnant of people who had lived there before…

A weight landed on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“You alright, parce?” Someone asked, far too close for comfort.

“Oh, uh, yes—yeah, I’m—” He breathed, belatedly noticing the sweat beading on his forehead. “—I’m fine, thanks.”

The stranger looked at him oddly, as though they couldn’t quite decide what he was. If they asked, Jimmy wasn’t sure he could tell them. He wasn’t so sure himself.

With a mumbled word in a language he didn’t recognize, they kept walking the way they had been going. Jimmy wiped his brow, wrapped Bullseye’s reigns around his hand and continued in the opposite direction with only a speck of guilt.

He’d taken up half of the narrow road and then brushed someone off when they were only trying to help. What would Martyn say?

You goofed up, kid. Shrug it off and deal. Jimmy thought automatically.

Throughout his childhood, he’d heard the line a thousand times. Each and every mistake he made was followed by the same proverb; if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. If it ain’t dead, don’t mourn it. And if it didn’t hurt, don’t regret it.

It carried him through almost everything he did. Breaking things in town, ruining Ms. Cherrie’s latest work, chasing a cat and getting himself scratched up; they never cared. He apologized, and everyone moved on.

Sure, the guilt followed him for a while. Shame would spiral around his head for days afterward, enough to make him dizzy if he wasn’t careful, but he fixed whatever he had done, and no one mentioned it again.

He was the man he was because of those mistakes. They made him, as much as the sand in the mesa or the dirt of the mines.

They still nagged at him sometimes. He very kindly ignored them, boarding up the memories until he couldn’t hear them anymore. Then he could joke about them, laugh at himself and the stupid things he had done.

Eventually, they wouldn’t bother him anymore. He just had to keep walking until they couldn’t keep up.

Persistence hunters, he’d called the ravagers.

It seemed his failures were much the same.

The rusty roads faded into grass and wildflowers, and Jimmy blinked back to himself. Sunlight shone brightly overhead, interrupted only by greying clouds that disappeared as soon as they’d arrived.

He blocked the light from his eyes and squinted across the fields, searching for a familiar shade of blue.

For a while, nothing caught his eye aside from a distant flock of sheep, so he continued his trek through the short grass.

Longer than anything they had in Tumble Town, but he had seen taller still since his first day out. He wondered distantly if Scott hired anyone to cut the fields, or if they naturally grew short.

A comparison to the mayor himself sat on Jimmy’s tongue, but fizzled behind his teeth when he finally spotted the man of the hour.

There, in the center of the flock, mayor Scott sat cross-legged in the grass. Flowers threaded themselves through his fingers, and he braided them carefully into the sheep’s long wool. They almost seemed to be taking turns; padding forward, accepting the flowers, and wandering off for the next one to get its turn.

Through the near-silent air, a lullaby weaved its way to Jimmy’s ears like the flowers held deftly in Scott’s fingers. The Sheriff felt equally as twisted; the oddest feeling curled in his stomach, and the sun suddenly felt infinitely more oppressive.

But even so, Scott sat comfortably among the wildflowers, occasionally slipping a poppy or cornflower into the ribbon holding his hair, making it impossibly more colourful.

It was… wholesome.

Jimmy wished, in the back of his mind, that he could be more than an observer.

He wondered what flowers Scott would choose to go with his hair, or Bullseye’s. He wondered if the mayor would even put that much thought into his choice, or if he would simply choose his favourites and ask Jimmy for his.

What was his favourite flower?

Did he have one?

Would Scott show him the best ones, if he asked?

All too soon, the mayor glanced up and finally noticed Jimmy’s presence. He smiled warmly—all too warm for the Sheriff’s already warm face—and moved to stand, brushing himself off and patting the sheep he had been braiding.

“Sheriff! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked with an over-dramatic bow.

Jimmy scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Hey, come on, don’t do that.” He said, a begrudging smile climbing onto his face. “It’s nothing official, just checking in.”

“Oh? A check-in from the sheriff?” Scott put a hand to his chest and did his best to look shocked. “Whatever could I have done to deserve such a thing?”

This time, Jimmy couldn’t help the short laugh tumbling out of his chest. A look of satisfaction rose to the mayor’s face; not malicious or prideful, as he may have once expected. Simply… pleased.

“I told you already, it’s nothing official.” Jimmy explained again, the wide grin deciding to stick on his face. “Only that you didn’t show up to the meeting today, and people got a little worried, is all.”

Scott stood for a moment, arms crossed over his chest, looking Jimmy up and down as though he was the most entertaining thing in the world. He tilted his head as a wicked grin played across his face, and Jimmy, despite the warmth of the fields, felt a chill run down his spine.

“Hm.” He said simply. “And why is that?”

The Sheriff floundered.

“Well, uh—I suppose, well, Gem and Katherine started worrying because they thought you might be sick, or hurt, or maybe just stressed out, and, uh—” He stopped, his mouth stuck like caramel. The words sat at the top of his throat, but he couldn’t seem to work them out enough for a sentence.

Scott turned, running his fingers along a sheep’s back. It stepped lightly into his space, and he smiled more genuinely as it bumped against his legs.

“Right. And everyone else?” He continued, his eyes never leaving Jimmy’s.

“Oh, eh—Sausage thought you might be behind on exports, I think? False—False thought there was an issue around here, if I remember…” The Sheriff trailed off, coughing under the piercing weight of Scott’s gaze.

“What about Joey?” He asked. “FWhip? Joel doesn’t trust me much either—what did he think my reason was?”

Jimmy stuttered and stopped.

As he remembered, Joel didn’t seem to have had a reason; he had seemed oddly frustrated throughout the meeting, and no one quite knew why.

After one particularly uncalled for comment, Jimmy shot mayor Lizzie a questioning look. She shook her head and focused back on Gem’s response, and he assumed that was the end of that.

“I… well, I don’t know. He seemed on edge the whole time, so I don’t think it was your fault…” He trailed off.

Scott kept his eyes trained on the Sheriff for far longer than was comfortable.

When he finally decided to lift the weight, it was with a hum and a raised eyebrow. He glanced around at the sheep, then off to the horizon where the real city sat. Pride crept into his eyes, along with something darker that Jimmy didn’t recognize.

He didn’t have the chance to ask before Scott broke the silence that had snuck up on them.

“And you?” He asked simply. “What did you think?”

For all his effort, Jimmy couldn’t seem to answer.

Thoughts flew across his mind. Sick? Hurt? Overwhelmed?

All fine options, but they didn’t feel quite right. He had never been a good liar, especially to his own brain, but he didn’t want to encourage those creeping ideas, the possibilities that lurked in the recesses that he no longer visited.

He ran away. The first thought whispered. He realized he didn’t need all of you; he had better things out there, how he used to be.

It was believable, above all else. Scott had mentioned before that he traveled constantly before founding Chromia, and sometimes, he thought about returning to that lifestyle. The meetings had only made the urge stronger, showing him what he’d never seen, and might never see again if he stayed put.

He started something better. The second thought slithered up, unwilling as he was to hear it. Took all your ideas, your plans, your blueprints, and he’s made something greater than all of these emperors combined.

And again, most frightening of all, it made sense. It was plausible.

Scott could do better, if he put his mind to it. Jimmy knew he could.

“Thought you might’ve caught that bug going around.” He answered instead.

The truth was too ugly for even the Sheriff to look at. Scott deserved something prettier.

For a moment, the mayor said nothing.

His eyes roved Jimmy’s face, searching for something that the Sheriff wasn’t sure he could give him.

The brief pause stretched on, and he still didn’t know what to say. Scott wanted something from him, but he had answered all his questions already. He didn’t know what else he could offer.

An apology, perhaps? He had marched into his city like he owned it, after all; that probably wasn’t the best first impression.

With a start, he realized that he had never truly visited Chromia before. It was always Scott appearing unprompted in Tumble Town, and Jimmy had never thought to follow him home.

The mayor had never extended an invitation for him either. Surely he would have if he wanted his company, right?

“Where’s your badge, Sheriff?” Scott asked abruptly.

Jimmy shot back to himself and glanced across from him, where the mayor looked at him with half-lidded eyes, completely and utterly unimpressed.

“Uh, what?” He mumbled dumbly.

Scott glanced down at his bare shirt, and he followed his eyeline to where the spot of gold normally shimmered against his chest.

“Oh! Right, well, I didn’t exactly know my way here, and this darn goblin gave me directions in exchange for some gold. It was the only thing I could pay with.” He shrugged.

For once, Scott looked surprised.

“Excuse me?” He exclaimed quietly. “You gave your badge to a goblin, just to get directions to my empire?”

With every word, he took a step forward, until he was barely a breath away and seemed perfectly comfortable with the distance.

Jimmy nodded, wide eyed.

“Why, Sheriff…” He trailed a hand along his shoulder and down his arm, fitting his hand around Jimmy’s elbow. “Aren’t you just a regular charmer?”

Jimmy’s face exploded with heat.

He jumped back, though found it to be much more difficult than he expected; something bumped up against the back of his legs, keeping him terrifyingly close to the mayor.

When he glanced back to see what it was, a fluffy, innocent face stared up at him, braided with flowers and clearly with no idea what it was doing.

The sheep gave a small baah, and Jimmy couldn’t help forgiving it on the spot.

After a moment that lasted far too long, he looked back at Scott, still staring up at him as innocently as the little sheep with mischievous eyes and a smile that knew too much.

“Right, well, uh—” Jimmy stammered, the words scratching his throat.

For all his effort, nothing else seemed to make its way out. He stared, and Scott stared back, the palm of his hand burning into the Sheriff’s arm.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he had never looked the mayor in the eye like this. He had never noticed the complex depth of the blue, like staring into the pond by the border of Tumble Town.

The yellow of his other eye was more unnerving; flatter, more vibrant, but swirling with something that Jimmy couldn’t name. He was drawn to it, despite how he tried to ignore it. It glittered like gold shining through cracks in the terracotta, something valuable and beautiful just out of reach, attainable only to those who climbed for it.

Jimmy felt oddly inclined to grab the rock and start pulling himself up.

All at once, he moved away, gliding out of their little bubble with nothing more than a smile.

Jimmy took a moment to catch his breath. His heart had sped up until he could have sworn it was no longer beating, and he suddenly wished he could rip it out of his chest and give it a stern talking to.

Without that option, he put a hand where his badge usually sat and prayed to whatever would listen that Scott hadn’t noticed his stumbling.

“Well, as much as I want to trust your story, I have a hard time believing that no one conspired against me while I was gone.” He said cooly, making his way across the field.

After a moment’s pause, Jimmy adjusted his hat and followed after him.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe me.” He breathed heavily as he finally caught up with the mayor’s pace. “When’ve I ever lied to you?”

Scott glanced over at him with a smile, but the look in his eye sent a shiver down the Sheriff’s spine.

“Just now, for one.” He hummed. “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice, did you?”

“Notice what?” Jimmy fumbled, squinting at the town that seemed so far away. He felt something bump up against his leg, and he turned to look over his shoulder at the crowd of sheep that trailed them across the grass.

Bullseye seemed to be struggling somewhat, trying desperately to avoid stepping on any of the fluffy creatures. Jimmy couldn’t help his chuckle, though he pitied the amount of effort it took.

“Your tells.” Scott said simply. “You’ve got quite a few.”

The Sheriff paused.

“Wait, wait, what tells?” He asked incredulously. “I haven’t got a tell! I’ll have you know, I’ve won more games of faro than anyone else in Tumble Town, and you don’t get to the top of that list having a tell.”

Scott laughed lightly as he defended himself, shaking his head in exasperation before turning back out to the slowly approaching roads.

“Yes, you do. A couple of obvious ones, and some I had to work for.” He winked, though Jimmy couldn’t imagine why. It sent his stomach tumbling regardless.

The mayor had that effect on him, he realized; always making him feel like he was stumbling out of the saloon after a drinking game, no matter how dry he was.

“Right, if that’s true, then humour me, huh? What are my tells?” Jimmy said defiantly. It didn’t quite hide the croak in his voice, but he thought it was a valiant effort.

For a moment, Scott said nothing. He glanced back and forth between the Sheriff and the horizon, the sheep and the bustling streets of Chromia. The quiet atmosphere returned; not unwelcome, though Jimmy had been oddly enjoying their conversation.

“Your voice.” Scott said abruptly, his tone soft to match the fading sunlight. “That’s the main one. It changes when you get nervous.”

When Jimmy looked over at him, his breath stuttered in his chest.

He looked… tired.

Handsome as a show stallion, of course, in that way only he knew how; his hair flowed over his shoulder like a wandering river, standing out against the soft white fabric that sat across his shoulders. He practically glowed in the orange light, and a fuzzy memory flashed across his mind: the same calm face, shining under flickering lantern light on a stiff street bench.

Under all of it, Jimmy saw just a hint of strain. Bags under his eyes, his perfect hair coming undone from the braid it was plaited in.

It seemed that this had been the only calm moment of his day. The Sheriff felt unreasonably guilty for ruining it.

“How so?” He responded, as quietly as he could manage.

Scott glanced at him, a bit of light returning to his eyes.

“It gets…” He paused, finally meeting the Sheriff’s gaze. “…softer. You sound less like the Sheriff of Tumble Town. More like…”

He paused again, as if searching for permission to say what was on his mind. Jimmy held his eyes, hoping desperately that the mayor could see how much he wanted to hear what he was thinking.

“Someone else.” He finished. His head turned back to the approaching city, but he seemed hesitant to look away. “It’s not important.”

Jimmy scoffed, flicking his braid into his face.

“Oh yeah, you know a lot about voices, huh?” He said jokingly.

“I do, actually, thank you so much for asking!” Scott responded, grinning venomously and tossing his braid back over his shoulder.

“Well, who do I sound like, then?” Jimmy challenged. “Pix? Lizzie? So long as it’s not Joel, I couldn’t care less.”

He left it open for Scott to respond but kept his view on the horizon.

When they finally reached the line of the city street and he still hadn’t heard a response, he looked over to see Scott staring at him strangely.

“What?” He asked. “Something wrong?”

Slowly, and after far too much consideration, the mayor shook his head with a sigh.

“Nothing. Like I said, it’s not important.” He waved his hand around vaguely, and the expressiveness brought a smile to Jimmy’s face. “Now, more importantly…”

He trailed off. The Sheriff turned to face him completely, ignoring the massive weight of his horse bumping into him with the sudden stop.

Scott met him head on, clasping his hands behind his back, while Jimmy’s sat crossed against his chest. A playful smirk overtook his face, and Jimmy knew he was in for a long conversation.

“What did people think?” He asked as though it was a secret, just between them. “I know they weren’t just worried for me. Come on, how many of them accused me of treason?”

To Jimmy’s slight surprise, he seemed almost giddy at the idea. He couldn’t imagine being so delighted with the thought of being accused in such a way, but he couldn’t deny how he enjoyed the expression on Scott’s face.

“No one accused you of treason.” He persisted, rolling his eyes. “…False may have asked if you were building a superweapon.”

The mayor jumped in the air, pumping his fist excitedly.

“Yes! What else?” He asked again as they moved further into the city.

“What else?” Jimmy repeated. “What else do you want?”

“That can’t be the only wild conspiracy people came up with!” He said with a grin.

Jimmy blew out a breath of air, completely and utterly baffled at the display. Someone approached them and nodded towards the sheep, and when Scott nodded back, they fastened a lead around the one in front, and led the entire flock towards a large building closer to the fields.

Bullseye sighed next to his ear, relieved at the sudden emptiness of the street.

A handful of people wandered about, flitting away to their homes for the night or saddling up their rides to prepare for a long night of traveling.

With a start, Jimmy realized he should probably do the same. The sun had nearly set, and he would no doubt be riding until morning to reach Tumble Town if he stayed much longer.

“Nah, it wasn’t.” He said with a laugh. “Joey thought you were raiding our empires while we were gone. Doesn’t get much crazier than that.”

Scott cackled, loud and unrestrained in a way Jimmy had never gotten the joy of hearing.

“Mostly, people were just saying you didn’t trust them.” He shrugged.

And it was the truth, as far as Jimmy understood. He knew only what he had heard, so it was possible that people had spoken more behind his back. As it stood, the wildest theory he’d heard was Lizzie’s. He had no idea if aliens were real, but regardless of their existence, her rant seemed unlikely at best.

“Well, I don’t, but that’s not why I didn’t go to the meeting.” He scoffed, making his way slowly into the town square.

Jimmy paused at that.

“Why didn’t you, then?” He asked confusedly. “Everyone was awful worried. Could’ve at least sent a letter in, huh?”

Scott rolled his eyes and waved him off, like he could shoo away all the Sheriff’s concerns with something as simple as his hand.

“I got busy and didn’t have time to send one. That’s all.” He said placatingly. “Has anyone ever told you how much you look like a sad puppy when you don’t get what you want?”

“Wh—excuse me?” He spluttered, heat shooting like electricity from his boots to his hat.

Scott laughed, circling around until they faced each other, though it forced him to walk backwards down the dimly lit street.

“You know, you get that sad little look on your face, and then you…” He trailed off.

Jimmy looked at him expectantly.

“…I what?” He asked.

Scott stared, vibrant eyes going wide, then squinting down as if he were trying desperately to figure something out. His hands unclasped from behind him, slowly falling to sit at his sides.

“Scott?” Jimmy asked again, drifting closer unwittingly.

Abruptly, and yet slower and more carefully than Jimmy would have expected, Scott reached his hands out to cup the sides of his face, twisting it gently back and forth.

A confused smile broke out beneath the mayor’s hands, but his focus remained unbroken, staring in awe at something that Jimmy couldn’t see.

“Come on now, don’t leave me hanging.” He asked when he again received no answer.

“You…” Scott began, dragging his thumbs underneath the Sheriff’s eyes. “You glow.”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide.

“Oh. Yeah, right, that’s… that happens.” He chuckled softly.

He met Scott’s eyes again, and the exhaustion of the day finally trickled into his body. It sparked down his spine, twinging in pain from hours spent on horseback.

Entirely against his will, his head dipped under the weight, falling further into Scott’s gentle hold. It really was very nice; the only other people that held him like this were the town mamas, but even then, they were always pinching his cheeks and tugging on his ears, pestering him to take a break and rest.

With Scott’s hands holding him up, it felt like the rest he had been begged to take.

“Is that normal?” He whispered, as if he was afraid to break the silence.

Jimmy nodded, though it was more a heavy drop of his head than a proper assurance. He reached up to wrap his fingers around Scott’s wrists. To keep his hands on his face or Jimmy’s brain in his body, he wasn’t sure, but Scott seemed to hear the silent request. When he moved, he moved closer, taking small, cautious steps until they were hardly a breath apart.

“I saw this before.” He said quietly, reaching to push the Sheriff’s hat up. “At the… the festival. I thought I was just too hammered to see properly.”

Slowly, Jimmy opened his eyes and looked down into the mayor’s face.

His eyes had softened, dimmed to reflect the small light coming from Jimmy’s skin. He looked about as tired as the Sheriff felt; all drooping lids and weighted shoulders.

It hit him again, just how exhausted he was. His head dropped onto Scott’s shoulder.

A small intake of breath came from right next to his ear. Jimmy paid it no mind. If Scott had something to say, he could say it, and if he wanted to move away, he would. He knew that much.

Not more than a moment later, as if responding to his thoughts, he felt a weight on his shoulder. Warm breath tickled his neck, and he laughed quietly at the feeling.

“Tired?” He rasped, no doubt answering his own question.

Scott nodded, a little thing. Jimmy laughed again at how small the mayor felt, tucked into his shoulder.

“I’d best be off, then. Let you get to bed.” He whispered.

He had barely started moving away when a hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him back down until Scott could rest his head again.

“You’re so warm.” He mumbled.

Jimmy chuckled and grabbed his wrists. His neck burned already; he wasn’t sure what more time would do. Scott all but scrambled for the contact again, but the Sheriff intercepted his efforts by resting their foreheads against each other.

“Mayor, please, I really ought to be going.” He smiled. “And you clearly need your rest.”

Scott pulled back to look in Jimmy’s eyes. A resoluteness sat within them, and Jimmy suddenly wondered if he would be getting back to Tumble Town before the next alliance meeting.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jimmy, I can’t send you home this late.” Scott muttered. He seemed to regain some of his composure, rubbing his eyes and taking a step away, though he kept a hand firmly on Jimmy’s neck and had no intention of removing it.

“Where do you suggest I stay, then?” He asked. “You got a saloon around here somewhere?”

Scott looked at him like he’d said the strangest thing in the world, then shook his head and brushed his thoughts away.

“Owen isn’t working right now, there’s no one to take care of the tavern…” He said, glancing around the streets as if searching for somewhere to put him. “And even if he was, it’s not like you have anything to pay for a room with.”

Jimmy scoffed dramatically.

“What, you wouldn’t give me a Sheriff’s discount?” He teased. He poked at Scott’s cheek, and he batted his hand away, though a grudging smile played on his lips.

“Nope! No discount for you, I’m afraid.” The mayor responded with a grin. “People to bribe, bills to pay, you know how it is.”

“I’m fairly certain I don’t, actually.” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Who even is there to bribe?”

Scott finally moved his hand, shifting to weave their fingers together and drag him down the street. Bullseye followed along dutifully, though his steps were slow and heavy after the long day of travel.

“Sausage, mostly. He has the best gossip, but everything of quality comes at its price, I suppose.” He sighed.

“Right, of course. And this is normal for you?” Jimmy asked with a smile.

They came to a stop outside a small wooden house, topped with a colourful roof that matched the rest of the city. Scott slipped Bullseye’s reigns out of his hand and tied him to a post beside the wall, brushed his fingers along the horse’s face, and turned to the house. The purple door creaked when Scott pushed it open, and Jimmy had less than a moment to admire the carvings in the doorframe before he was pulled inside.

“Oh yes, we have tea after almost every meeting.” Scott answered easily. “He couldn’t make it to our last one—something about an Eddie needing help with a furnace.”

Jimmy shot him a confused glance, and he shrugged.

“Makes as much sense to you as it does to me.” He said.

“Well, alright then.” Jimmy responded. “Hey, uh, before we get off topic again… remind me what we’re doing here?”

He stood like a lost statue in the middle of an unfamiliar room, looking around the building with equal parts confusion and respect. The craftsmanship in every corner was incredible, everything from large, wooden chests to small clay pots on windowsills, sporting colourful flowers that Jimmy had never seen, and likely couldn’t have dreamed up.

Two small chairs and a table sat in front of a window, next to a cramped kitchen that reminded him of his own space back home. Across the minimal space was a room full of barrels, lids stuck on loosely to cover what was stored inside.

Jimmy had half a mind to peek within them once Scott was out of sight, but with the size of the place, it was unlikely that he would get a chance.

“Sleeping, Sheriff. Do try and keep up.” Scott rolled his eyes and swung himself onto a ladder near the wall.

“Hey now, where am I meant to go, then?” Jimmy asked, wrapping his hands around the rung that Scott had climbed up.

The mayor looked down at him from a loft that Jimmy hadn’t noticed, hands on his hips and looking awfully unimpressed.

“Where else?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “You think I’d drag you into my house and expect you to sleep on the street?”

Jimmy wished he could have thought of a clever reply, but as it was, he couldn’t think to do anything but stare up at the man that confounded him so reliably.

“Here? You want me to sleep here?” He responded, voice rising with every word.

“Don’t sound so disappointed, sunshine—plenty of people would be begging to take your place.” He said with a sly grin and a wink.

For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Jimmy’s face erupted with heat and every possible response died behind his teeth. Suddenly, his tongue was made of lead, and he couldn’t seem to formulate anything to say.

His stomach flipped like he was herding a ravager for the first time again, but this time around, he didn’t have anyone to catch him if he messed up.

The Sheriff was going in blind to something he didn’t understand, couldn’t name, and hadn’t had the courage to ask about. He was a regular coward in nothing but this.

“Are you coming?” He heard from up the ladder.

Scott had disappeared behind the railing, and Jimmy realized that he quite missed the sight of him. Without missing a beat, he hoisted himself up on the ladder and wasted no time in reaching the top.

As soon as his head poked over the final rung, he paused.

The space was… homey. Comfortable.

Jimmy always thought of his own room as the peak of comfort, but Scott had surpassed him entirely.

While the Sheriff never saw the use in decorating a room he was hardly in, the mayor had taken the time to cover each wall in paintings and pressed flowers, every shelf in trinkets and souvenirs. No surface was safe from his eccentric decorating.

Some things made sense; more flowerpots, an intricate banner on the wall, a collection of gems and jewelry that certainly didn’t belong to him.

Others didn’t quite fit into the space. A fishing rod that had clearly never been used, a rough chunk of stone sitting on the edge of a shelf, and a clean white vase with swirling designs etched in blue.

Jimmy found himself drifting towards the last item.

Scott rambled on about something in the background, flitting around the room and organizing as he went along. He caught the words “comfortable” and “generous” before the syllables started tumbling out of the man’s mouth faster than he could comprehend, and his brain placed the conversation on the back burner.

At the front of his mind, however, was the vase. He stepped towards it with wide eyes, though he couldn’t quite tell why. He picked it up gingerly and held it in his hand as though it would break at the slightest pressure.

It might have, all things considered; it certainly seemed fragile enough to fracture at the smallest movement.

Despite his caution, he turned it around in his hands, running his fingers over every ridge and crack. It fit snugly in his palm, cold to the touch and seeping into his skin. Drawings of people and animals spanned across the shining clay. It must have been a story from wherever Scott had gotten it. A local legend, or something of the sort. He couldn’t think of another explanation.

As he flipped it over, his heart nearly stopped.

A small boy was depicted on the side, riding a bull four times his size. He smiled widely, his excitement radiating even through the simplicity of the art.

Against the white of the vase and the blue of the other drawings, the boy practically glowed, drawn carefully in shimmering gold.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Came a voice from behind his shoulder.

Jimmy’s head whipped around fast enough to sprain his neck, and he snatched the vase close to his chest.

When he turned around, Scott stared back at him with a mixture of shock and confusion. Jimmy came back to himself and shook his head, placing the vase back on the shelf where he got it.

“Yeah. Incredible.” He said, though he wasn’t sure that Scott believed him.

Even as it sat unmoving on the shelf, he stared it down with a furrowed brow and hundreds of questions whizzing through his brain.

For all the strangeness that the Sheriff had brought into his home, Scott didn’t ask any questions. He shrugged and leaned against the shelf, picking up his explanation without a second thought.

Jimmy appreciated it. Even if Scott had asked him what was going on, he wasn’t sure he could answer.

It was just a vase. He had no reason to react so oddly to it, but conflicting feelings warred in his chest, speeding up his heart until it nearly stopped, then slowing down and starting over again.

It was beautiful. Ornate, intricate, detailed. It hurt to look at. It nagged something in the back of his mind that he thought he had buried long ago.

His memory was fuzzy for most of his childhood, but at the very least, he knew what he looked like back then.

He looked like the boy on the vase.

“Is that alright, Sheriff?” Scott asked, snapping him out of his stupor.

“Huh?” He mumbled dumbly. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

Scott sighed, though a smile played on his face.

“Do pay attention, Sheriff.” He smirked. “I can’t have you sleeping in the tavern, the street, or going home at this hour, so you’ll have to sleep here.”

Jimmy nodded along until the final words.

“What? I can’t sleep here, you sleep here.” He responded, perhaps with a bit too much insistence.

“Oh, don’t get your hat on backwards.” Scott rolled his eyes and flicked the brim of Jimmy’s hat. “I’m sleeping downstairs, so you’ll have the whole loft to yourself.”

For a moment, it made sense.

After a brief pause, however, Jimmy remembered that it made no sense at all.

“Wait, wait, where will you sleep then?” He asked, only slightly concerned for the mayor’s sanity. “There’s nowhere to get comfortable downstairs—I couldn’t expect you to do that!”

“It’s fine, Sheriff, really. I have a bedroll I can use, it’s comfortable enough.” He waved off his concern.

“No, no, you sleep up here. I can sleep outside with Bullseye.” He argued.

Unfortunately, despite all his practice, Scott seemed just as good at arguing as he was.

“Absolutely not. You’re my guest, I can’t make you sleep outside.” He spoke as though the very idea disgusted him. “But, if it means that much to you, we could always just share.”

A reply sat on the tip of his tongue, but Scott’s statement sunk in before he could say anything, and he spluttered to a stop just a few steps away from where the mayor stood.

“You—sorry, we could what?” Jimmy asked incredulously. “Your bed isn’t nearly big enough for the two of us! We’d have to be—to be squished up together ‘til we forget whose legs are whose!”

“Doesn’t sound too horrible to me.” Scott shrugged. “It’s just for one night, Sheriff. It’s either this, or I sleep downstairs, hm?”

Jimmy faltered.

Scott had been so kind to him this entire time, even though he barged into his city and did nothing to pay him back. He couldn’t let him sacrifice his own comfort for him.

If it was the only option…

“Fine.” He relented. “But you don’t say nothing about this in your little gossip sessions, you hear?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t! Thief’s honour!” Scott said cheerfully, holding up two fingers and hooking them over his shoulder.

“Good enough.” Jimmy grumbled. He had no idea what any of that meant, but as exhaustion continued to weigh on him more and more, he would do whatever got him to bed faster.

Scott was right; it was just one night. Back to Tumble Town in the morning, and never speaking to anyone else about it for the rest of his life. Jimmy could handle that much.

⚡

Jimmy stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep.

So far, it hadn’t worked. He could only hope that he could doze off sometime before sunrise, but at this rate, it didn’t seem likely.

Scott laid next to him, perfectly content as he slept. He faced the wall, his chest rising and falling evenly.

The Sheriff couldn’t understand how he managed it so easily. He was stressed out of his mind, suddenly remembering everything he had ever done to annoy or inconvenience the man next to him, and they flew through his brain faster than he could pick them out.

A few stuck around long enough to be remembered.

The ravager incident. The festival. Just today, running into his empire without warning or reason.

They all whispered of why he didn’t belong here, why he had no right to be sitting comfortably in a bed that didn’t belong to him, right next to a man who, by all means, should have hated him.

At least, he should have been upset. Jimmy should have been turned away before he could make it past Chromia’s border.

But he was welcomed in, and Scott seemed to have no trouble inviting him everywhere he shouldn’t have been allowed to go.

The fields were clearly a special place, and he interrupted what was supposed to be the mayor’s day off. The streets of his city had no reason to see how easily Jimmy fell into place next to him, despite all he’d done and all that had been done to him.

The walls of this cozy little house had no right to listen in as Jimmy worried himself into a spiral, and Scott slept softly beside him.

“Scott?” He asked quietly.

He didn’t expect a response, but he didn’t need one. All he needed was to break the oppressive silence that threatened to strangle him until he lost the ability to say what he needed to.

“I’m… Listen, I’m sorry. I know you’re probably not mad, but… well, I just—” He huffed frustratedly.

Even when no one was listening, he couldn’t choke up the right words to say.

With a sigh, he pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes, silently begging to be swallowed by the bed, or the house, or the calm night sky outside.

“I just need to say it.” He settled on. He kept his hands firmly on his eyes; it was easier that way. If he couldn’t see the problem, it didn’t exist. “You’ve been so kind, and I just keep thinking of all these times I’ve screwed you over. You can be…”

He laughed drily.

“You can be a real pain in the ass, mayor. But…” He trailed off once more.

Crickets chirped their songs outside the window. He wondered, distantly, what musicians had left their souls in these ones.

He wondered if Scott would believe the tall tale. If he had stories of his own, reasons for why the world was how it was. He must have, Jimmy thought; he seemed the type to believe in fairy tales.

“I like you, alright? A lot. I don’t get it, but I’ve never—I’ve never had a friend like you before. And I hope that’s—well, that is, I hope you think of me that way. I hope I’m not just the stuffy Sheriff that tells you off and doesn’t understand you.”

Once again, the silence crept back into the room.

It felt lighter; like a weight had been lifted from it. A washed piece of denim, heavy and irritating, suddenly wrung dry and replaced.

Maybe he should talk about things more often.

At the thought, he shook his head.

“I’m trying.” He whispered. “Really, I am. And I’m gonna—I’m gonna keep trying.”

Finally, his hands fell from his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at the ceiling, counting the swirls in the back of his mind.

“I wanna know you. Can I…” He paused.

This whole thing was silly. It didn’t do anything to confess all his worries to someone who couldn’t even hear him.

“Is it too late for me to know you?” He finished regardless.

Silence seeped through the windows, the floor, the cracks in the walls. It wasn’t so oppressive now; it seemed almost like a comfort, a weight that held him steady rather than held him still.

Jimmy couldn’t tell how long he sat that way. Long enough for the crickets to change tunes, and his bones to start aching from how little he moved.

Long enough for the swirls to start moving when he stared at them. Long enough for them to appear behind his eyes when he shuttered them away.

Long enough, and longer still, before Scott said anything in reply.

“Of course not.” He said, almost too quiet for Jimmy to hear.

When the sound hit his ears, he turned his head to see what he had done.

His heart beat quicker with every second of silence, every moment spent thinking that he had imagined it, that his sleep deprived brain had simply come up with what he wanted to hear.

Scott wasn’t meant to be awake. He wasn’t meant to know what Jimmy had tried to tell him.

“What?” He responded in a disbelieving whisper.

Another excruciating moment passed without reply.

Just as Jimmy started to think he really had imagined it, the bedsheets rustled, and Scott sat up to look at him.

“It’s never too late.” He murmured. “You didn’t really think that, did you?”

He pushed himself up, leaning on his elbows.

With nothing else to say, Jimmy looked away, slightly embarrassed that he had been heard.

“Guess I did.” He said softly. “And you’re proving me wrong?”

Scott laughed, a breathy little thing in the fuzzy air of the room. Jimmy swore he could see it slip through his teeth and swirl out into the air, all bright colours and soft edges like the chipped paint on the ceiling.

He shook his head. He should probably get some sleep.

“I hope so.” Scott responded, turning fully to face him. “I like you too, Sheriff. Probably more than you think.”

His voice broke on his title, and Jimmy couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him.

When his arms started to shake, he plopped onto his back and closed his eyes.

“Good, good.” He mumbled.

A moment later, he felt the mattress shift beside him, and a now familiar weight settled in his chest, just as a now familiar weight settled into his side.

“You’ve got something else to talk about. What is it?” Scott asked, his breath tickling Jimmy’s ear.

He shook his head, half to dispel the sensation, half to stop the conversation before it could start. He really was very tired, and he could tell that Scott was too; he wanted to talk about it, of course—no use putting it off if they were both awake—but he had already taken enough relaxation away from the mayor. He deserved his sleep, at the very least.

“Hey.” Scott said again. A finger poked his cheek, and he batted it away. “Come on, what’ve you got?”

Again, he shook his head with a laugh.

“Nothing. Just…” He sighed. Better to get it over with now, he supposed.

“About the… the festival.” Jimmy started, cringing as he spoke. “I don’t remember much, but, uh… I know you were upset with me. I don’t exactly know what I did, but, are you still…” He trailed off.

Luckily, Scott filled in the words he didn’t say. He sighed and turned around.

“No… no, I’m not.” He said simply. “I still think you’re a privileged idiot, but I’d rather…”

He paused.

“We’ll work on it. I’ll talk about… things, as long as you promise to accept it.”

Jimmy nodded quickly.

“Cowboy’s honour.” He said sincerely, grabbing Scott’s hand with both of his. “Come as you are, and I’ll ride the river with you, long as you promise to bring me back in when I fall over.”

Scott laughed like he’d said the funniest thing in the world.

Jimmy realized, quite belatedly, how much he loved the sound.

“Sounding awfully romantic over there, Sheriff.” He said, a slight wobble to his voice. “Where’d you get that from, anyway?”

“Oh. Uh…” He trailed off. His eyes bounced around the room as he tried to remember where the words had surfaced from. “I think they’re… uh, they might’ve been wedding vows?” He laughed as his face grew warmer.

Abruptly, Scott burst out in laughter.

“What?” Jimmy asked as a grin spread across his face. “What?”

“Just—” Scott giggled, and Jimmy practically melted. “You—wedding vows? Take me to dinner first, Sheriff!”

“You—shut up!” He spluttered and snatched his hands back towards his chest, moving to turn away and finally go to sleep.

He stopped when two hands grasped blindly for his, dragging him back without a care for how close they already were.

Their foreheads bumped together, and they laughed together like age-old friends, cramped in a bed that was far too small for two people, but the perfect size for them.

“No, no, it’s—” He laughed again as Jimmy leaned their foreheads together. “It’s sweet, really. You’re sweet.”

With the final word, silence once again slithered over them like a blanket. Crickets chirped, wind blew lightly outside the window. The sheets rustled as Scott laid down, pulling Jimmy along with him.

Still, enough distance sat between them to be justifiable to anyone who asked.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jimmy thought it was entirely too much empty space.

As Scott finally slipped into a dream next to him, the Sheriff counted his breaths, counted the swirls, and counted his lucky stars that he had someone like the man next to him.