Chapter Text
“my, my, boothill. what a mess you are.” sunday looked upon the man, caked in the grime of his return from his most recent cattle drive. sunday opened his cabin door wider, allowing the cowboy inside.
“did you not take a moment to yourself in one of the towns between here and reno? sit while i start the bath.”
“i did, but on the last stretch i reckoned i’d do without in order to get home faster,” boothill replied as he settled in a chair at the kitchen table. sunday let out a soft tsk as he set firewood into the stove and opened the tinder box set beside it, striking the flint towards the charcloth within it. boothill’s tired eyes tracked the lithe, pale fingers as they worked, dimly lit by the candles scattered around.
sunday dusted his hands off after he transferred the embers to the stove, closing it and the tinderbox. he stood up, moving over to where a large wooden tub and a few buckets sat.
“be glad you came back before evening set in. wait here while i get fresh water.”
“y’sure?”
sunday sent him a sharp look as he grabbed two large buckets.
“heh, alright pastor, no need for the glare,” boothill said, raising his hand in submission. sunday let out a soft huff as he walked by boothill and out, the door closing with a thud behind him.
silence settled over the room as boothill allowed himself a moment. he removed his hat, setting it on the table, then stood up. despite the soreness from being in the saddle for so long, he found himself pacing the cabin. this arrangement between him and the man of faith was relatively new; they had been at odds in the beginning, with sunday being a city man before he traveled out to the newly settled las vegas to ease the minds of the other religious folks, while boothill had never been a man of faith, especially after losing his left arm in a skirmish.
even with the animosity between them in the beginning fueled by sunday’s offish way of speaking and boothill’s more relaxed personality, sunday had come to look past the foolish idea of “wild cowboys,” with a firm respect forming towards boothill’s dedication and ethic towards helping the town, with boothill doing the same in return as sunday himself had shown he was no slacker in providing assistance to the townspeople. after a time, boothill had begun attending the services held by the pastor to get a better feel for him. sunday had sought him out afterwards and they had begun conversing with each other on a manner of subjects. soon enough, the pastor started occasionally inviting boothill over to his home to continue their conversations outside of the church. it became a place of stability for the cowboy, solidified when he started going there after his return from cattle drives instead of back to the ranch with the other men — which led to now with another return leading to sunday. they might as well be courtin’ each other.
boothill shook his head, breaking his train of thought. he looked at the wick of a nearby candle to see how long it’d been. ‘he oughta be back soon,’ he thought, grabbing a basin atop a cabinet and placing it upon the stove.
merely seconds after, the door creaked open. boothill turned to it as sunday carried the full buckets with ease in and pushed the door close with his heel. he continued to the stove, coming to stand beside boothill as he set one bucket down and poured the other into the waiting basin.
“you can undress and wait in the tub.”
“yessir,” boothill said, going to tip the brim of his hat cheekily before remembering he had removed it. the shorter man shook his head and stayed focused on the stove, used to the behavior.
boothill moved back to the dining table and went through the usual routine that took an ample amount of time, needed for the water to warm. he began with taking off his tall boots along with his socks - the jangle of his spurs always delighted him no matter what; untied his handkerchief; unbuttoned his vest; undid his gun holster wrapped around his waist; slid off his chaps followed by his trousers; removed the pin that held the sleeve closed under his left elbow then unbuttoned his shirt; and finally he took off his drawers leaving him stark bare. all of these were set on the table as neatly as he could or else sunday would be on his ass about it.
once finished, boothill stalked over to the tub and sat himself down it, reaching to comb out his braid with his fingers. sunday followed not long after with the first basin, pouring it into the tub. he averted his eyes, still polite even after the many times they’ve done this.
after the tub was filled, sunday started to scrub boothill’s head gently with a damp towel. the latter man let out a sigh of relief, the tiredness finally setting in.
“what’d i miss while i was gone?” he asked in order to stay awake.
“nothing. the paper’s still reporting about that ‘annihilation gang’ going around robbing and stealing, and it’s enough to frighten some of the women in town. it calmed down though as i assume new men have come to replace the troops that will be heading out as others continue west.”
“you saw them new boys?”
“yes. they’ve been making themselves comfortable with the town, but one man’s been making it his mission to actually get to know everyone - argenti is his name. i’m sure you’ll meet him yourself as he’s not hard to miss; his hair is as bright as the flame from God’s burning bush.”
boothill turned his head enough to catch a glimpse of sunday over his shoulder, smiling as he said, “now sweetheart, you know it gets me all hot and bothered when you quote your scripture! tell me more how you really feel about him.”
he saw the other man frown for a split second before the pitcher he had filled to rinse boothill’s hair was fully upturned over his head, causing him to sputter. he took a second to push his waterlogged hair out of his face then yelled, “alright, that’s it!”
“do not !” sunday managed to get out as boothill swung around, wrapping his arm around sunday’s waist and yanking him into the tub, water splashing over the rim and hitting the dirt floor.
“lord, let my speech always be gracious…” sunday muttered viciously, his dress shirt and cotton trousers soaked through. boothill threw his head back and laughed, continuing even while sunday tried to hush him. he finally quieted down once the other man got his hands over his mouth.
the mood seemed to shift to something more serious with a lengthy pause as sunday shifted his hand to cup boothill’s cheek, taking him in.
“you look like you got a bee in your bonnet. go on.”
sunday rubbed the skin under the cowboy’s eye with his thumb gently, lingering for a second on the freckle there. a soft warmth stayed there as the other man pulled away.
“i wouldn’t sway you away from your way of living, but i pray for you to make it back every time you leave on one of those trips.” boothill deeply inhaled as the subject had become a point of contention between them, but sunday let out a firm hush.
“i know you’re capable and i don’t doubt you. i doubt the others properly having your back as i know some of them don’t give you the proper respect. you humor my faith enough, but humor me once more - i want you to wear this.” sunday dug underneath his clerical collar, fingers snagging on a silver chain as he pulled it out. a medallion hung on the end of it with an engraved veiled woman, her hands clasped together in prayer.
“my sister gifted it to me before i left new york. it’s a symbol of saint ena. while you know we don't pray to saints, we give them our respect. do the same and she will protect you, like she’s protected me.”
“wha- hon, i can’t just take something your sister gave you!”
“you can and you will,” sunday remarked, grabbing boothill’s face with a hand and squeezing it with enough force to silence him. the cowboy pouted, his face looking comical with his cheeks squished. “fine,” he managed to get out.
sunday smiled, satisfied. he pulled the chain over his head and settled it over boothill’s, arranging the medallion to lay in the center of the man’s chest.
“perfect.”
boothill glanced down at the chain then back to sunday. the soft lighting of the candles haloed him — if there were to be anyone man he worshipped, it’d be the one in his arms. he reached up and took sunday’s cheek in his palm, leaning in and pressing his lips to the other’s. pulling away, he soaked in the image of sunday’s lashes fluttering open and lips reddened.
“perfect indeed.”