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Faraday groans at the rather explosive headache in his head, not wanting to even open his eyes at the pain, wondering what he had drunk last night to cripple him so spectacularly this morning. He hadn't thought he'd even been that drunk, at least not as drunk as Vasquez had been.
Suddenly memories were rushing back.
Gunshots, the battle, a stick of dynamite clutched in his hands and the pained laughter that had filled his lungs as he felt for that split second his whole body tearing to pieces and knowing that regardless of what happened after, they had won.
But how was he still here? Not even the good lord himself could've saved Faraday from that dynamite, even if Faraday wasn't fixing for a hot seat in hell for himself. Not even Rose Creek could've swayed that fate.
Painfully, Joshua Faraday cracked an eye open to be met with white. White everywhere.
Surely he'd died? Had he really gone to a good place after all? There couldn't be no other explanation for the strange lights and colours all around him, making strange noises.
"Joshua Faraday. That was quite the car crash you suffered, güero."
Faraday's eyes snapped up to meet the man's who'd just walked into the room with a clear rectangle with papers on it, no sign of recognition on Vasquez's face.
He went to say something, anything, to ask where the hell they both were and why the other man was dressed like a fool, but he quickly shut his mouth as pain threatened to make him dizzy again.
"Ai, take it easy. You're lucky to be alive, eh? Don't strain." He chided, Faraday looking helplessly at him for explanations to any of what was going on.
"Where?" He managed to choke out, Vasquez frowning at Faraday's attempt to talk.
"Where are you? You're at the Rose Creek general hospital."
Faraday was going to be sick.
He stuck through the pain and attempted to sit up, this strange version of Vasquez loudly protesting and jumping to his side, cursing in Spanish in a way that was too familiar and only serving to fuel his determination more.
"You need rest güero." Vasquez spat in annoyance, Faraday not even hearing him as thoughts of the battle swam through his head, refusing to believe whatever this place was could possibly be Rose Creek. He needs to find Sam Chisolm, he would know what to do.
"Vasquez." Faraday growls, trying to shove off the other man who's trying to get him back to lying down in the god awful bed that was too soft to be natural.
The name stalls the Mexican for a moment, giving Faraday a sliver of hope that maybe this fake Vasquez might be the real thing after all.
"Off me you fuckin' devil." Faraday grumbles, leaning back and glaring at the surprised looking man in front of him.
"'n quit calling me that. Told you already I don't know what it means." Too angry to care about how much talking hurts, he continues to glare down Vasquez, or whatever this is in front of him.
None of this made any sense. But Vasquez's face was the most familiar thing in this place even if this was some hellish trick.
Before Faraday or this Vasquez imposter could say anything else, what looked like a nurse came into the room, looking apologetic.
"Sorry to intrude Dr. Vasquez, but they're asking for you, it's an emergency." The shy nurse said, looking nervous when Faraday couldn't help the snort of laughter bubbling up out of him at hearing Dr. and Vasquez in the same sentence. Now he really knew he'd died and gone to hell. Having Vasquez as his doctor couldn't be anything less.
Vasquez shot him a strange look but said something in Spanish to the girl before excusing himself and following her out of the room, another nurse coming into the room afterward asking questions about what he remembered and what his pain levels were at. Giving up after Faraday crossed his arms and pretended to fall back asleep.
Maybe if his eyes didn't feel as swollen and sore and they did and his whole body wasn't aching something fierce he'd try and wink at her or flirt, but as it stood now he could hardly hum without his body protesting. After all, Doctor Vasquez had told him to rest and that's what he intended to do.
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The next time Faraday opened his eyes it was once again to Vasquez looking at him with a look of confusion and uncertainty.
"What do you want." Faraday grumbled, not liking the way Vasquez could look at him like that after all they had been through together. He was confused and in pain already, he didn't like feeling the same ache in his chest at the thought Vasquez and the rest forgetting him. He'd didn't want to have been blown up for nothing after all.
"What all do you remember?" Vasquez asks instead, giving Faraday a sliver of hope he knows he has no right to believe in.
"I remember you if that's what you mean." Faraday huffs, adjusting himself to sit up a little more upright in the bed, feeling his body gradually aching a little less than before.
"Remember me? Remember me where güero?" Vasquez asks, that look of confusion coming back again in full force.
"Rose Creek. The town. You and me fought with everything we had, you saved my life Vas and I-." Faraday swallows, feeling his throat go suddenly dry as he looks down at his bruises hands, "-I went after the gattling gun."
"Señor you were in a car crash-"
"Don't call me that either." Faraday snapped, feeling more and more lost the longer Vasquez talked.
"You don't remember me at all then?" Faraday asks, looking up at the other man for any sign of recognition, anything.
"No."
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"Leave me alone muchacho." Faraday glares, spotting the fake Vasquez walking into the room with what looks like food.
"Cálmate princesa, I just felt I'd bring you something other than hospital food. I am not fool enough to think anything they've been giving you tastes good." Vasquez said with that twinkle of mischief in his eye that had been so predominant back in Rose Creek.
"The hells' a taco bell." Faraday asked reading the bag Vasquez was holding, the man looking once again puzzled.
"You don't remember Taco Bell?" Vasquez asks as if that was a question that made any form of sense to Faraday.
"No I don't remember fucking taco bells. I'm not Mexican like you why should I." Faraday snapped waspishly, although his stomach rudely interjected him as Vasquez began to take out the contents of the bag with a cackle that was only frustrating Faraday more.
This imposter wasn't supposed to laugh like that. That was Vasquez's laugh, not his, and damn him to hell if it didn't make his chest ache all over again.
"Ahhh güero, it's no wonder you have no one visiting eh? Eres mi vaquero loco." He says, stating the last piece in Spanish almost in a fond way that Faraday clenches his teeth over.
"I know that one you menace." Faraday grumbles, squinting at the wrapped food Vasquez holds out to him with a good-natured smile.
"And what does it mean güero?" He asks almost tauntingly, making Faraday scowl all over again.
"You called me crazy, which I don't take kindly to frankly. You're the loco one anyway, forgetting me after all the shit we went through." Faraday says gruffly, taking the various wrapped foods Vasquez hands him.
"Why'd you let me forget you then, ai güreo?" Vasquez says, tearing into his buritto in a way that hasn't changed through whatever strange phenomenon happened to them.
"Your sorry ass shouldn't have. I went and blew myself up saving you- Jesus wept Vas, no matter what life I find you in you eat like a slob in every one." Faraday bitches, ignoring the confused look on Vasquez's face again. He was beginning to think it was his new normal.
Faraday was still just going through the motions of whatever feverdream he'd woken up in, but he had to admit that whatever taco bells was made some pretty decent food.
"You really believe all this? That you and me lived out a Western?" Vasquez asked, taking a moment to pause his graphic dismembering of the buritto in his hands. They were much softer looking this time, with no signs of the callouses they'd both gotten living the life. Looking at his own hands he felt disgusted that his showed no signs either.
Maybe the other man saw the way Faraday's eyes filled with regret and grief, or maybe he just didn't want to aggravate his lonely amnesia patient, but Vasquez quickly changed the subject.
But the damage was done and Faraday didn't react to the jabs anymore or say anything else about a life once lived.
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Faraday hates being sober.
He's itching for a cigarette, and getting justifiably more and more agitated over the fussing of the hospital staff trying to tell him he shouldn't over exhert himself or move too much. And the only saving grace of any of it was Vasquez sometimes bringing him lunch or dinner, stopping in to check on him randomly when he's on shifts.
And Faraday hates it.
He didn't want Vasquez here constantly reminding him that he was stuck in an endless hell where nobody seemed to recall who he was. It frustrated him and lit the flames of rage in his stomach.
He'd always been an angry soul. His mama had told him even as a baby he never cried he merely screamed like the devil himself was after him.
But this was worse than all the anger he'd ever felt inside him.
There was nothing he could do here. Even in the face of a gattling gun he'd been able to do something about it, even if he'd died in the process. But this- sitting in a constant state of uncertainty and grief-
Why was he the one grieving if he was the one who'd died?
He didn't know what had happened when that stick of dynamite had gone off. Maybe it was the reincarnation some folk talked about, or a personalized hell just for him, or maybe something higher that he just didn't understand yet. He just wanted to know why here, why was it Vasquez.
Faraday had known the devilish outlaw was trouble the moment he'd laid eyes on him. He'd been charming and challenged Faraday in every possible way.
Having it come from someone wearing the same face hurt.
It hurt more than it should and Faraday recognised it, but wouldn't admit it to himself why he knew it hurt so much.
Gripping the edge of the bed Faraday began to pull himself to the side, carefully moving one leg off the side of the bed and then the next.
They were all sorts of colours, bruises marking up and down his legs like a patchwork quilt. The action itself making his stomach roll with how long it had been since he'd moved so much. And wasn't that a funny thought.
Placing the soles of his feet on the ground felt strange without the boots he always wore on his feet. They'd been ratty things, but they'd been good boots. Worn them to sleep more nights than he can count.
Getting to his feet was a bit more challenging, but it had been doable. Painful, but doable.
Making his way to the large window on the far wall he sat at the sill, taking in the view of thousands of houses and buildings stretching across the land. An entirely different world than his own.
"God forbid my life ever be normal." Faraday groaned in resignation, leaning his head back against the window frame as he closed his eyes, shutting out the pain of moving.
His original plan had been to go hunt down something around here to drink or find a pack to smoke, but he was starting to think that might have been an ambitious first few steps and the window might be a good place to stop.
It's not too long afterward that Faraday hears rather than sees Vasquez come into the room, cursing up a storm.
"Cábron you cannot be out of bed in your state." Vasquez fussed, Faraday swatting his hand away as he reached out.
"I'll be out of bed if I damn well please, fuck off." He says with a bit more heat to it than he'd meant to, noticing the way it makes Vasquez pause as the other man looks at him with a sadness to it that Faraday hates seeing on his face.
"I brought you these." Vasquez says simply, placing a small bag on the sill within Faraday's reach.
"What are they?" He asks instead, not touching them or the bag.
"Nicotine patches. We give them to the patients sometimes. I noticed you seem to smoke."
Oh.
There's a beat of silence between them where Vasquez sits across from him on the window sill, staring intently at him but Faraday isn't going to meet his eyes. He can't without feeling frustrated and displaced.
"Vas what are you doing here?" Faraday asks instead, quiet even to his own ears, wondering why the other man has continued to show up for him.
He doesn't need to anymore, he's clearly got other things to be doing, other people to be eating lunch with. And he still comes to sit with Faraday, brings him stupid shit like nicotine patches. And every time Faraday wants to hope it's because maybe Vasquez can feel it too somehow. As though one day he'll walk into the room and suddenly remember everything they'd both gone through.
But maybe he was just destined to be alone.
"Your company, güero. I like it. You're a funny man when you get it in your head to be, Y eres lindo cuando estas enojado." He says with a good natured shrug, Faraday resisting the urge to remind him he doesn't know fucking Spanish.
"I hate you." Is all he mutters instead, gaining a a loud and boisterous laugh out of Vasquez, who just leans back against the window sill as well, one leg up with his shoe nearly touching Faraday's foot, the dirty bastard.
"That's it then? You just like tormenting me?" Faraday asked, trying to keep his lips from twitching upwards at the contagious sound that Vasquez was.
"Eh, there's something about you güero, something, eh, embriagador, intoxicating. Quiero estar cerca de ti." He said in contemplation, half looking like he didn't really know why himself either.
"Yeah well chairo circa deities aside, just bring a pack of cards next time so I'm less inclined to blow my brains out."
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Vasquez does in fact bring a pack of cards next time, and proves that he's just the same card player he was before, although still not better than Faraday, naturally.
They were currently gambling with something Vasquez had called lollipops, the candies turning out to be rather good despite their ridiculous name.
A rather colourful sounding group of words came out of Vasquez's mouth as Faraday once again gathered together more of his lollipops into his own pile. "Hoo! Your mama know you talk like that amigo?" Faraday laughed around the candy in his mouth, looking up at Vasquez to see the crease of his brow and frown etched into his features.
"You are unnaturally good at this." Vasquez protests, meeting his gaze with a frustrated but still amused expression, the amusement of which seemed to grow as they made eye contact.
"Is that surrender I hear?" Faraday asked with a quirk of his eyebrows, looking down at the cards in his hands to shuffle the deck with fingers thankfully still light even after the explosion or whatever accident that had befallen him in this world.
When there was no response Faraday peeked up at the other man to see a rather glassy eyed look on his face.
"You been working too late at night Vas? I'd hate to be playing you when you're crippled." Faraday joked, looking back to the cards in his hands.
"Mm, no puedo apartar mis ojos de ti quiredo."
"Vas, how many times do I have to say I don't know spanish before you understand." Faraday said in annoyance, dealing out cards between them, with still no understandable response from the other.
Looking up at him for the second time Faraday saw the look still there, his exasperation rising as his concern did.
"You need to swap places with me buddy? You can have this awful bed and I'll take that chair." Faraday said joking mostly, but still willing to give it up if that's what Vas ended up needing. He'd only ever seen him look that way one other time, on the night before Rose Creek was under attack.
They'd both been drinking, rather heavily, so the accuracy of the memory Faraday had of the moment was hazy. But they'd been laughing together, getting ready to make their way upstairs where some of the others had already dropped off to sleep.
It'd been sudden in a way like this, where Faraday had been dragging him by the arm as Vasquez complained he couldn't go up the pair of stairs. His eyes had gone all glassy and it was as though he'd been stuck, with that dopey smile of his.
But they weren't drunk now. It was just poker.
"Vas?" Faraday asked softer, wondering if he was about to drop dead or something of the like, his concern only stretching so far as he snapped his fingers in the other man's face to get his attention.
"You could call me by my name. I wouldn't mind it." Vasquez admits, looking away sheepishly as though that's a large confession worth being red over.
"I don't know it. You never told me." Faraday states, not really caring what the other man's name is. Vasquez was a fine enough name, and God knows whatever name he has Faraday will butcher it.
"Alexis."
Faraday blanked out for a second.
"Your name is Alexis?" Faraday asked incredulously, a smile starting to grow on his face as he finally realised why Vasquez never told him his name the first time around.
"And your name is Josh." Vasquez scowled, the frown soon disappearing into something humourous as Faraday hung his head back and laughed harder than he had since dying, wheezing as he repeated it.
"Güero you are something else." Vasquez said with a laugh of his own, Faraday still on the verge of tears as he laughed himself sore.
"Do you go by Alexi? Alex? Or do you just use--" And he's dissolved into wheezing again, Vasquez berating him in spanish.
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Joshua is starting to think he's getting used to this strange new world.
It's a shitty one, and he still gets anxious if he doesn't look out the window or walk around in the day, but the nurse showed him how to use the teevee. And whatever strange bullshit they do to examine his supposed memory loss isn't too bad either, at least not with Vasquez there.
They've fallen into a routine of lunch and poker, the week dragging on as Joshua begins associating himself with some of the other patients in the hospital, finding plenty of poor souls to lure into a game than just Vasquez.
With valuable merchandise Joshua thinks as he stands outside the hospital doors to take a long drag of sweet sweet nicotine.
God he'd missed it.
He makes a noise of protest as it's snatched from his hand, turning to see Vasquez coming to lean against the same wall Josh is, taking a drag of it himself before holding it back out for him to reclaim.
"Shouldn't be smoking, quierido, it'll kill you. Cancer is something I don't want to see you back for." Vasquez remarks, eyeing him seriously.
"Hell if I know what the fuck cancer is. I'll die of booze before then anyway." Joshua says with a smug smile, taking another drag as Vasquez gives him a funny look.
A beat of silence.
"You said you knew me, that I saved you, how?" Vasquez asked, strangely serious in a way the makes Joshua blow out a breath void of smoke, shaking his head in the process.
"It is a lonnnng story, and one I don't really feel like telling you. But the gist was I got shot by this dick who was after us and you shot him dead right into one of the undertaker's coffins. Would've been right funny if we weren't in the process of dying I reckon." Joshua says, making a face as he drops the spent cigarette, pressing out the heat with the boots he'd found among his belongings Vasquez had brought him.
They weren't his boots from before, but they were boots and he'd take what he could get.
"We were partners?" Vasquez asks in surprise, Joshua letting out an obnoxious 'HA.'
"Hardly. We were on a job, hired by a spitfire woman named Emma Cullen along with a couple other strange souls looking to go down in a blaze of glory. You probably would've killed me first time we met if there hadn't been a crowd." Joshua reminisces sadly, wondering if the reason Vasquez was here was because he hadn't made it out either.
He didn't let himself think too much on the why of the situation, because when he did he felt that climbing ache in his chest again. But at least with Vasquez here, he felt less alone, even if the other man didn't remember him or the life they had both led.
"I wonder why." Vasquez teased playfully, his accent still just as thick as the first time as he grinned that shit eating grin at Joshua, just as intoxicating as the first time.
"You didn't like me because I was a better shot than you, faster draw too."
"Mhm, I'm sure I was the worst gun slinger in the wild west, and seething with jealousy over your skills." Vasquez said, eyeing him knowingly in a way that had Joshua swallowing nervously, stuck on the way Vasquez had said seething so lowly.
The hell?
"You think I'm making all this up." Joshua said flatly, turning away as he realised Vasquez probably didn't believe a word coming out of his mouth, even if some of it had been a lie.
Why should Vasquez believe him anyway? He'd woken up clearly in a different version of himself, one still intact and not having suffered through an explosion, and had been spewing tall tales to a man who'd lived however many years in this world just fine without ever hearing of Joshua. He'd be a fool if he did believe Joshua.
"Mm, if I believed you I'd have to admit I went to medical school for nothing when I could've been living the life of my dreams with you in the wild west." Vasquez admitted genuinely, seeming to notice the shift in Josh's mood.
"Definitely wasn't a dream life." he mutters, resisting the urge to light a new cigarette in Vasquez's presence.
"You know, your hospital stay is going to be up soon. I've already cleared you as good to live on your own, we're just waiting a few more days to make sure your body is on the right path to heal before we let you go."
Vasquez doesn't sound entirely pleased by the words coming from his mouth, and Joshua can't say he's very fond of them either. Because that means he has to confront being alive.
"Vas I don't even know what year it is or how to do any of this shit. I don't even know if I have a house, or god forbid a job somewhere." Joshua admits lowly, feeling as though it's something that should be kept something of a secret from those around him.
"Güero it was either that or I send you to a mental hospital, and I will not do that to you." Vasquez said with a bit of fire burning in his eyes.
"Damn right you ain't." Joshua states adamantly, lighting himself another cigarette despite his earlier quelms.
"I get off work soon." Vasquez states, Joshua turning to raise an eyebrow at him.
"Perhaps we could be outlaws for a bit and see if we can track down your address eh?"
Joshua cracks a smile at him, realising that Vasquez isn't keen on leaving his side either.
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When Vasquez comes to collect him Joshua is nervous, donning clothes he has no recollection of ever wearing, but still finding suit his tastes. He digs through his belongings, finding things he has no idea how to handle or read.
He knows one of the items is like a minature teevee, but he's unsure of how to ignite it. There's something of a wallet as well, with various papers inside, many of them with his name on them. And some even containing his picture, which he was rather charmed to have, seeing as the only way you often got your own picture was if it was on a wanted poster.
As far as finding the directions to this version of him's home though he's had much less luck.
He tells Vasquez as much, who throws his head back and laughs something loud as he attempts to explain what all the cards means.
"Vas I don't give a shit, just show me how to get to wherever it is we're going." Joshua snaps, Vasquez smiling that dopey smile at him again, simply putting the cards back in their card holsters with a word to follow him.
And follow him Joshua does, noting how Vasquez purposefully uses the pair of stairs and not the elevator, clearly knowing Joshua would only follow him so far if he did.
"Have you ever been in a car before mi querido vaquero?" Vasquez asks as they make their way through a metal gallery on wheels, large cement walls and pillars giving Joshua an uneasy feeling. He's of course seen the cars and kinds of buildings they build in this world from the window, but he still wasn't prepared to be travelling through it.
Joshua nervously looks at the car they stop in front of: pristine white with a galloping stallian symbol at the front of the car, the devilish grin on Vasquez's face doing nothing to calm his nerves.
"Cars aren't really my expertise, no.." Joshua admits, feeling his face go red as Vasquez opens the door for him, revealing a sleek black interior to boot.
"I can open my own damn door." Joshua snaps, getting in anyway, making sure all his limbs are in the enclosed space as Vasquez closes the door, and runs around to the other side to get in himself.
"Rule 1 of riding in cars is the seatbelt." Vasquez states, pulling a strap from the side of his chair down to clip into some hook at the other side.
"Why the hell would I do that." Joshua asks, already nervous and wary of the tight space, dubiously looking at the buckle to his right.
"Because if you don't then when you get in a wreck you get amnesia and come out thinking you're un vaquero." Vasquez says fondly, attempting to lean over a buckle it for him before Joshua swats him off and clips it in on his own much to Vasquez's amusement.
Actually riding in the car has Joshua shutting his eyes tightly, yelling at Vasquez as the bastard purposefully fuels the car into what joshua knows to be going too fast as the other cars around them seem as though they aren't even moving.
Part of him wonders if he'll die twice, while the other part of him considers at least dying next to Vasquez wouldn't be so bad.
However, they eventually slowed to a stop outside of tall brick building, Joshua eager to get out of the vehicle and back with two feet on the ground as Vasquez cackled behind him.
It wasn't an impressive building by any means, and looked rather run down compared to the buildings surrounding it, but it didn't look entirely inhabitable, which Josh guessed was probably a good sign.
"Not a bad place, ay cábron?" Vasquez asked, coming to stand beside him as Joshua looked for the ring of keys he'd found earlier among his things.
The interior of the apartment however was a little less welcoming.
Both of them stood in silence for a moment as the now unlocked door opened to reveal nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"Ehh, it was locked before, right?" Vasquez asked as they both stepped into the bare apartment with it's white walls and empty rooms.
According to Vasquez he had been living in this apartment for two years according to his police officer friend, but there hadn't been any previous recorded addresses, even his parents having died in his teenage years supposedly.
Which begged the question of where his alternate self had been staying through the years that weren't listed. And if he'd been living here for two years how was it there wasn't even signs crumbs on the floor.
"Well, I've lived in worse places." Joshua admits, remembering how sore his back had been sleeping on that rocky outcrop on their way to Rose Creek.
"Maybe they kicked you out for not paying rent?" Vasquez suggests, Josh not too bothered if it was the case considering any items belonging to this version of himself had no value to him anyway.
"Josh,"
He glances over at Vasquez who has an uncertain look on his face, uncharacteristic to his features in a way that almost seems shy.
Then he pauses and can't seem to decide on whether or not to say what's on his mind. "Well? Come out with it." Josh presses, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag as he looks around the apartment again.
"If you needed someplace to go, I've been thinking of looking for a roommate." He finally hints, Joshua raising his eyebrows in surprise, blowing out smoke.
"Vas, I appreciate the offer, really, but do you really think you'd be able to live with me without wanting to kill me?" Joshua asks honestly, noting the way Vasquez's face seems strangely hopeful.
"I can't think of anyone better güero." He says with a growing smile, which really Joshua admits is rather sad if his best idea of a roommate is Joshua. But on the other hand, he doesn't know what he's doing. He's alone in a world he doesn't know how to operate.
"I'll think about it."
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"Look alive güero, we're going on a field trip." Vasquez announced as he walked into the room, a spark of mischief in his eyes as Joshua wondered what the hell a field trip was.
"After last time I'm not especially looking to go anywhere with you muchacho." Josh affirmed, giving him a dubious look when a big smile lit up Vasquez's face.
"Ahhh, but you'll change your mind when you hear the destination mi querido." He said ushering for Josh to grab his boots, clearly the other man excited for whatever location he had in mind.
"I don't think there's anywhere in the world you could take me for me to be excited with your driving." Joshua said with a shake of his head, moving to grab his boots anyway to appease his overactive counterpart.
"Mi compañero owns a shooting range a little ways from here. He said we could shoot there." Vasquez says with that puppy dog grin on his face, Joshua eyeing him curiously.
He wasn't sure how to feel about shooting just for fun, seeing as he'd not usually had the luxury of wasting bullets when he depended on them most of the time to get him out of trouble. When he shot, it was usually to kill or right the wrongs done to him or others. But maybe that could change too in this strange new world. It was relieving and painful to think that he may never need to fire another shot with someone paying the price on the other end.
Because admitting that meant he really knew there was no way to get back home.
"You better drive normally this time." Joshua said seriously, passing Vasquez on the way out the door as the other's seemingly innocent smile turned more impish.
"I thought you lived for danger mi viejo." Vasquez practically purred, Joshua squinting at him.
"I don't like the way you said that."
"Y aun me sigues güero." Vasquez laughs, Josh rolling his eyes at the only word he can pick out of the sentence.
However, Joshua has to give him credit when he drives slower than last time. He still hates the experience, but he's growing used to it now. At least as used to it as he can be, missing the lulling motion of a horse and open-air and sky around him.
"We'll finally see if you live up to your tales, eh querido?" Vasquez says tauntingly, Joshua feeling himself rising to the challenge already as he side eyes Vasquez.
"What about you? Doctor Vasquez ever shot a gun before?" It's all too familiar to fall into the game they once had, egging the other on till they're boasting impossibilities.
"Ahh, I grew up on a horse ranch cábron, of course I shoot." Vasquez chided, the new piece of information striking a heartstring that Joshua didn't know he had.
Glancing over at the other and studying him carefully he wondered about the life he must've led, without a bounty on his head and having a regular meal placed in front of him every day. And yet he was still just how Joshua remembered him to be. Down to the sun pendant adorning his throat.
"May the best man win." Joshua remarks haughtily, walking through the door that's held open for him by the smug-looking Mexican who's doing strange things to his heart.
The shooting range itself is a simple building, with a wide variety of guns available to them that Joshua is unsure what to do with. None of these guns looks like his Colt, and for the first time in a while, a prickle of anxiety runs up his spine at the thought of not knowing what to do with a gun in his hands.
His eyes widen as he sees the man at the front counter, his steps faltering enough Vasquez nearly runs into him, bracing his shoulders as he mutters a curse in his native tongue.
There's no doubt in his mind that the man sitting on the counter sharpening a rather sharp looking knife is anyone other than Billy Rocks, the fastest draw in the West. That cursed hairpin still holding the bun in his hair together. And where there's Billy-
"Alexis! Well I'll be, and this here must've been your friend you mentioned over the phone." Goodnight Robicheaux exclaimed, coming out of the doorway to the side of the counter to come and stand beside Billy, a grin on his face.
"Sí señor, this is mi vaquero Joshua Faraday. Do you have the guns I asked about?" Vasquez asks hopefully, Josh still stuck staring wide-eyed at the two men in front of him.
Billy notices and shoots a stone-cold stare his way, pausing the sharpening of his knife long enough for Joshua to swallow nervously and look to Vasquez for some sort of assistance but the other is too drawn to the cases Goodnight is setting on the counter.
"Some of the oldest guns we've got in this place. Just like what the cowboys used to shoot." Goodnight says with his southern drawl falling into a chuckle.
It's enough to draw away Joshua's attention from the men in front of him to take in the beauty of the two guns, a peacemaker and chiappa, both looking in far better condition than his Ethel or Maria had ever been, despite his constant care of them.
"Thought you might be keen on them." Goodnight says with a twinkle in his eye.
"We can shoot these?" Joshua asks, still wary of Billy's cold stare on him as he looks at the guns without touching no matter how much he wants to desperately twirl the revolver in his hand once more.
"Sure can, so long as you know how to fire it." Goodnight said with an easy smile, Vasquez gripping his shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze.
"Damn straight I can fire her." Joshua said lowly, allowing himself to finally pull the gun from the box, twirling her on his finger with it easily sliding back into the fold of his hand, perfectly balanced.
Stepping up to the range itself was strange, Joshua having pictured something much more open and out west than the circular targets at the end of a long stretch of land. But he was willing to take what he could get so long as he could fire the gun again and feel that comfortable weight in his hands.
Loading it is almost therapeutic, Vasquez curiously watching behind him as he does. And jumps when Joshua fires off 6 bullets, hitting nearly every shot to the centre of the target, his hand automatically going to return the gun to a holster that's no longer there.
"I'm rusty." He mutters, raising a hand to take a drag of his cigarette.
"I'll admit cábron that was a little impressive." Vasquez says, coming up behind him to once again 'borrow' the cigarette and press it to his own lips.
Joshua blows smoke in his face in retaliation, lips still quirking up at the other man as he twirls the peacekeeper in his hand, nose down held out to Vasquez. "Your turn bronc buster."
"I haven't ever fired one of-"
"Oh please, just fire the damn gun Vas." Joshua says with a roll of his eyes at Vasquez's sheepish expression.
Stepping back, he watches as Vasquez loads the revolver, taking his time to aim before firing his shots a fair distance between, genuinely aiming.
"Come on Nancy, just shoot the damn thing." Joshua yelled over the firing, Vasquez's last two shots being quick ones before he turned to give him an unimpressed look.
"You take that long in a skirmish and you'd be in a shallow grave." Joshua says adamantly, taking the gun and expertly reloading the gun in his hands before pointing it towards the target to fire 6 more quick shots at the target Vasquez had shot at, nailing each one near the centre of the target.
"Mm you do have a knack for this." Vasquez agrees, seeming to not have heard anything Josh had just said as he turns to give the Mexican an exasperated look, only to realise how close he'd unintentionally put them in the space of the individual shooting dividers.
They were close enough that Joshua couldn't help the skip his heartbeat took in his chest, seeing those deep brown eyes so close up, smelling the smoke in both of their exhales mingling between them. All he could do was stand frozen in place, noticing the way Vasquez's gaze dropped down to his lips in a way that made Joshua's stomach twist in a strange way.
"You should try again. Using what I just said." Josh said with a loud clear of his throat while he stepped away back towards the wall, awkwardly stepping forward again when he forgot to give the revolver back to Vasquez.
He knew he hadn't imagined it, so what the hell had that been? He'd never felt like that before, not even in front of any of the gorgeous women he'd been with in the past, nor the non-gorgeous ones for that matter.
How could Vasquez elicit that reaction out of him with just one glance?
This time the gunfire was in the same bursts Joshua's had been, although with much more varying results as to where the bullets lay in the target.
"See, that's better." Joshua commented, although felt his heart sink a little as he was reminded again of the fact this wasn't the Vasquez who'd shot a man to pieces for him, or gone into battle facing death right beside him.
What would have happened with them if they'd both lived through Rose Creek? Would they have been travelling the plains about now together? After Rose Creek's fight he couldn't imagine himself travelling on his own again, even if without Sam or Red or Billy and Goodnight, he knew he wouldn't have been able to part without Vasquez. Out of the rest of the six, it'd been Vasquez who had stayed up late nights with him playing cards and drinking, sharing stories and boasting of their adventures during nights where they felt as though perhaps the coming days might be their last. And he'd known Vasquez felt the same then. Hell, Joshua had never seen him with eyes as alight with rage as when he'd gotten shot by McCann. But had he misinterpreted the rage for something else?
"-Joshua"
He startled at the sound of Vasquez's voice, coming back to him from seemingly far away with a worried expression on his face.
"Are you alright güero?"
And wasn't it strange to see the genuine worry and confusion there. It kept doing funny things to his heart, pulling at things it shouldn't.
"Of course I'm alright. Are you alright? Those bullets are stretched all across that target like a shotgun round." Joshua deflects, welcoming the exasperated grin that comes back to his counterpart's face.
?¡?¡¡?¡¡?¡=?=??¡?¡
Waking up the morning of his hospital discharge is a strange feeling.
It's both the end of one adventure and the start of another, having agreed to stay with Vasquez for the time being a couple of days ago. Just until he was comfortable enough that he felt he could survive on his own. Although he'd never admit that to Vasquez. God forbid Joshua ever genuinely need Vasquez's help for something.
There wasn't much for him to pack into the brown backpack that Vas had given him, with mostly just the clothes on his back and the few personal belongings he'd had 'from the crash' to stow away. Vasquez had already threatened to take him to go buy clothes, which sounded like a ridiculous luxury to Joshua, but he'd conceded so long as he could get himself a good sun blocking hat.
Now it was just a waiting game for Vasquez to get off shift, Joshua's pack slung over one shoulder as he took his time walking the familiar hallway to the stairs, taking each step knowing it'd most likely be the last time he set foot there.
The hospital had seemed a prison at first, and he was still plenty glad to be rid of it and the pain of injuries he'd have to suffer through here, but he had made some good memories here too. Not to mention he'd miss the free cigarettes he got from some of the boys looking to gamble away their belongings just for a good game of cards.
Joshua lit a cigarette as he came to the level that housed all the cars, spotting Vasquez's white car ("It's a mustang querido, like the horse eh?") among the rest easily enough.
He was still somewhat nervous about staying around Vasquez when it seemed like lately his heart had been pulling itself in all sorts of directions for him, but he had enough confidence in his poker face to hide it should he really start to feel his heart was betraying him.
He was no stranger to finding certain men more appealing than the rest, but he'd never acted on it before, and he certainly wasn't going to start now, even if it'd never quite been like this. Especially not with Vasquez, who was currently the only thing standing between him and the confusing new world.
The last thing he needed was to be thrown out to the dogs with not so much as a horse or gun to his name. And he was guessing not many folks were looking to gamble away horses in these parts.
Joshua returned a wave as Vasquez made his way towards the car, the other man having a giant shit-eating grin on his face, looking every bit like heavens had bestowed him with an unfathomable gift.
"You look happy." Joshua stated with a raise of his eyebrows, blowing out smoke as Vasquez walked up within hearing distance.
"You aren't my patient anymore, cábron, what's not to be happy about?" Vasquez answered easily, Joshua just snorting as the other man took the cigarette out of his hands again, fully expecting him to take a drag of it, looking to protest when it was instead dropped carelessly to the floor.
"Hey, I was smoking tha-" he found his back pressed against the Mustang as suddenly Vasquez was within his space, pressing his lips bruisingly up against Joshua's own in a rough and addictive kiss.
While the action was surprising, he couldn't deny the challenge in it, and Joshua Faraday never backed down from a challenge.
He easily matched Vasquez's passion in a way that felt all too comfortable, hands moving to the other man's waist, pulling him closer when he felt the Mexican starting to smile into the kiss, stubble scratching along Joshua's own. God damn how had he never tried this before?
He resisted the urge to chase after Vasquez as the man began to pull away, his mind feeling foggy for the first time in a long time.
Nothing had ever felt like that.
"Good güero?" Vasquez asked, with a hint of mischief in his eyes, the lighting of the dim car park making him look downright devilish.
"Fucking do it again." Joshua demanded, feeling the way his lips stung and wanting more, regardless of what that might make him to some people. He hadn't ever cared for no man's opinion of him anyway. No woman had ever kissed him that good before and he'd be damned to let something this good slip past him.
"We should wait until we get home mi vida" Vasquez stated lowly, something dark in his eyes that made Joshua excited and terrified at the same time.
"Your place better be close as fuck."
Vasquez just let his head back and laughed, his eyes holding something fiercely fond in them that Joshua wanted to challenge everything about. He'd never wanted to sexually unravel someone before, but no other words could describe the feelings coursing through his chest at the thought of another sound coming from this man's throat with its pretty little medallion.
"Depends how fast you let me drive, querido." He teased, pressing a quick kiss to Joshua's lips as he moved towards the driver's side.
Damn this man and his charm.