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Summer comes.
The air hangs heavily with a damp, burdening heat. Johnny's skin crawls a little at the sensation of his sweat-dampened shirt sticking to it, but he hasn't the time for distractions. This is the most crucial moment. He bites his lip as he drops his rein-bearing hand closer to Slow Dancer's withers, allowing her to use her ingrained cow sense to predict which way the stray heifer is looking to cut. She weaves back and forth, following each movement the heifer starts with incredible precision.
"That's right, give her hell, Johnny!" yells a light Italian accent. If Johnny wasn't aware of Gyro's attention on him before, he certainly is now. Gyro is perched atop Valkyrie, strong arms crossed and a leg lazily thrown over the saddle horn. His expression sits firmly on his features aside from those green eyes that, in their journey thus far, seem to soften only when they are set on Johnny. It's an expression that never fails to further the Kentuckian's urge not to disappoint.
Another bead of sweat traces Johnny's brow, and with the right opportunity and a final push, Slow Dancer charges toward the young cow and sends her back in the direction in which the rest of the herd is traveling.
"Got her!" Johnny celebrates. He pumps his fist and reaches down to the base of his mare's neck, giving her a well-deserved scritch. He then asks her for a lope and they loop back around to join up with Gyro and Valkyrie once again.
Johnny beams. "Did ya see that? I'd reckon that was some mighty fine work Dancer and I put out there." His eyes meet Gyro's in search of approval, in part because he looks up to him as a mentor but perhaps also in part because of something else he has yet to place. No one else's praises made him feel quite as high as Gyro's tend to. Not even his own father's, as coveted as those should be.
"You two certainly showed that sassy heifer what for!" the Neapolitan ranchero casually drapes his arm around him. Their mares are now close enough to each other for their outer thighs to touch. Johnny's body temperature rises just tangibly, though he chalks it up to being solely due to the heat radiating from his herding partner's body on top of the persistent swelter of the Indiana sun.
"This mare of yours has such a sharp mind, and incredible cattle sense, you know." Gyro now reaches to stroke Slow Dancer's shoulder. "You were lucky to be paired with her."
"And me?" Johnny half-jokes, trying not to sound too desperate as he rather obviously fishes for a compliment. Gyro chuckles. There was an undeniable charm in the way Johnny tended to seek praise.
"You always make great choices, Johnny-boy. You put such trust into your horse, and she responds to that. You two communicate so seamlessly that I can't help but think that you're a natural-born horseman." Johnny never tired of Gyro's fancy words, as satisfying as the clink of pure sterling in his ears, and Johnny could feel an extra bit of warmth come on again. What was up with that?
The two of them had been traveling across the great American expanse together for a while now, about a month and a half. Johnny had come up to New York from his native Kentucky in search of work and had come upon a job moving cattle all the way from the state's outskirts down to sunny San Diego, California in favor of its much more tolerable winter. His first meeting with Gyro was a bit apprehensive. Gyro had previously made a few similar treks under the same company spread over the course of about four years, and Johnny couldn't help but be a little intimidated by his level of experience. It did not take long, however, for them to click. Within their first week together on the road they were bonding over a common adoration of horses, telling stories, singing songs, and laughing until they could only speak in hushed tones for the next couple of days. There had never been a dull moment between them thus far, and they got along swimmingly, only occasionally heatedly arguing over directions.
Johnny sometimes wondered if they got on too well. He couldn't recall enjoying spending time with another man very much before, besides maybe his late brother in his now distant childhood days. And by the same token, none of the girls that would cling to him after he had snagged first place in a derby were anywhere near as interesting to talk to as Gyro. He often pondered the normalcy of their relationship while drifting off in his open sleeping bag on these warm summer nights.
"Johnny?" he jolts slightly, causing his mare's withers to twitch as he is instantly beckoned back to the present by his name on Gyro's lips.
"You good? You seem kind of out of it."
"Oh, yeah, sorry. Got distracted." Johnny’s eyes point down and he twiddles a small section of Slow Dancer's silken mane in a nervous sort of way. It was a bit hard to face Gyro directly after going through all of those thoughts.
"I see. Well, why don't we go fix some supper? We're definitely due to eat something by now with all of the extra work the cattle decided to give us today." Johnny could hear the roll of Gyro's eyes in his tone.
"Okay, that's a fine enough idea." and with that, Johnny has ridden off towards the spot they had already chosen to set up camp in earlier in the day. Gyro can only watch for a few seconds, unsure of how he is meant to interpret his companion's suddenly distant behavior, before stirring Valkyrie into an extended lope to follow suit.
Summer fades, fall settles in.
By September, they have reached Colorado. As the days become progressively colder, Johnny and Gyro become ever closer. Emotionally, they may as well have known each other for years from navigating the trials of their journey. Physically, they wake up inched a little more snugly to one another than when they had fallen asleep, both wordlessly agreeing that it was merely to combat the bite of the approaching winter. Johnny cannot help but wonder if that is really the truth.
Recently, he has started noticing Gyro's eyes on him quite often. It wasn't unusual for him to watch Johnny work the cattle, but this was definitely different. Even while performing the most menial of tasks, whether it be something such as putting out the fire for the night or combing Slow Dancer's forelock with his fingers, Johnny could feel his companion's gaze. He can't say he minds this sort of attention, but he also isn't entirely sure why he was receiving it.
Johnny himself is also guilty of staring. When Gyro isn't looking at him, he is looking at Gyro. He has taken to noticing all sorts of little details about Gyro; the way his body moves perfectly in sync with Valkyrie's when they work a heifer. The manner in which his muscles flex with even the most minuscule of movements. His calloused but seemingly still gentle hands as he grips a rope. Even the slight unevenness of his tan due to the slots in his hat is something Johnny takes note of. Perhaps it is something of his own imagination, but he also swears their gazes lock for a little too long in the instances in which they meet.
On a particularly bitter evening, with a harsh wind driving the fire to adopt a reluctance to grow, Gyro breaks out some miniature whiskey bottles he'd had tucked away in his saddle bags.
"To help warm us up." he grins, placing two shots in Johnny's hand.
"You had these the whole time and only decided to bring them out now?" Johnny teases.
"Gotta savor 'em! I've only got so many." Gyro perches beside him, their thighs flush together. They're close. Johnny is already starting to feel a little warmer despite having yet to even open the first whiskey.
"A toast?" Gyro proposes, unscrewing the lid of a bottle and extending it towards his companion.
"To?"
"To ours, the horses', and the cattle's safety on the last leg of our journey?"
"Can't argue with that." Johnny raises his shot.
They clink bottles and down their whiskey in unison, and Johnny tries his best to refrain from coughing due to the burn. He isn't used to drinking, but it does not take long for him to open and down the second shot anyway, Gyro doing the same.
They sit in silence for a few minutes that feel like forever. The alcohol is quick to hit Johnny, causing another rush of warmth to course over him as he wobbles in his seat. Gyro places an arm around him to help steady him.
"Th-thanks…" he mumbles drunkenly, leaning into Gyro for further support and reveling in his warmth. Gyro laughs
"You're quite the lightweight, aren't you?"
When he looks up in preparation to return the snark, Gyro is looking at him intently, and any remark Johnny may have wanted to make is completely lost. He instead watches the dwindling firefight reflect in Gyro's eyes as he gazes right back, feeling comfortable in the familiarity of it all. They stay like that for a few long moments.
Johnny doesn't pull back or flinch one bit when Gyro leans in and their lips meet. Maybe in reality he had been wondering when it would finally happen for a while now. He reciprocates softly, the kiss as tender as it could possibly be. Gyro's roughened fingers trace his nape, and Johnny isn't sure he's ever felt anything more right in his life.
They shift position as the throes of passion begin to overwhelm them, and Gyro pulls Johnny onto his lap to face him as the younger man throws his arms around his neck, never breaking the contact between their lips. Gyro's hands draw down Johnny's back to cup his ass satisfactorily, and with very little effort, he hoists him up as he pushes his feet into the soft earth to stand, spurs jingling as he carries him straight to their tent.
The following morning should probably feel awkward for them, but this isn't the case at all. They prepare a meal, pack up camp, and tack and mount their horses as usual, laughing and bouncing off each other all the while. Things are certainly different between them now, but some things would never change.
Autumn decays, winter closes in.
In mid-December, they finally cross the border between Arizona and California, and by the end of the month, the cattle have been herded to the sprawling pasture where they will graze for the rest of winter. After dropping them off, Johnny and Gyro are left to their own devices together outside of the company office in San Diego.
"So." Gyro starts. "What now?"
"Are you not going on the next drive?" Johnny tilts his head.
"Nah. If you want to do that, I'm not gonna stop you, but I think I'm gonna take some time off work. See new sights, do things I've been itching to do, y'know?"
Johnny looks down apprehensively. "I think," he begins carefully, "that as cliché as it sounds, right now, being able to stay by your side might be what makes me happiest."
Gyro flashes a cheeky smile. "Hey, like I said, I'm not gonna tell you what to do! If that's what you really want, then who am I to keep you from it?" Johnny all but sighs with relief at Gyro's acceptance.
"Well," Gyro continues, grabbing Johnny's hand for effect. "to be fair, I may feel similarly, but anyways! What do we want to see first? Oh, how about the beach? You've never been to one, have you?"