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Fireflies and cicadas, country music blaring, 90° F outside even at night; that is the Booneville, Mississippi way. It had been a particularly sticky summer night when Bonde and Dan had found themselves right outside of a hole in the wall bar in the middle of nowhere. The bar itself was concealed inside a stereotypical red barn and was completely unassuming from the outside. If not for the thump of bone rattling bass vibrating the ground and endless rows of trucks lined up in the dirt, the men would have thought they were in the wrong place.
When the pair had mentioned to one of their flyers at the Oxford clinic that they were heading to Montgomery, Alabama for their next clinic later that night, she had excitedly told them of a bar that wouldn't be too far out of their way and that was a can't miss. It took very little convincing for the boys to agree to go and check it out on the way to their next stop.
Parking in the first available spot, the two got out of the car and were immediately met with Garth Brooks’s ‘Friends in Low Places’ thundering from the cracks of the building. Glancing at each other once, the pair strode across the gravel to the barn, avoiding the redneck minefield that was trailer hitches left and right.
Dan opened the crookedly hanging door and was instantly blinded by multi-colored neon lights, a sea of pool tables, dozens of dart boards, beer bottles, cigarettes, and endless flannel shirts. It seemed that everyone had on cowboy boots and comically large belt buckles. Well, that was one stereotype they could check off as true.
Eyeing each other again, the pair walked into the barn and up to the beer covered counter. They were met almost immediately by a woman in a tank top, cut off jeans, and bedazzled boots, “Hiya, boys. What can I getcha?” she shouted over the music.
“Just two Bud Lights, please.” Bonde yelled back, leaning over the counter to make sure she could hear.
“Tap or bottle?” She leaned in, too.
“Tap.”
“You got it, sweetheart.” She winked as she walked off, hips swaying, and Bonde turned to Dan, smirking. Dan rolled his eyes. Bonde would flirt with a lamppost if it could flirt back.
They were handed frosty steins surprisingly quickly considering the amount of people crowding the counter and Dan handed over his card to start a tab. They rented a set of billiard balls and side by side they wandered off to find an open table in the overflowing space.
From their vantage point at the back of the room, Bonde spotted a mechanical bull off in one corner, a line of women waiting for a ride. He smiled to himself as a pretty bottle blonde slipped off one side and crashed down onto the bright red mat below, ecstatically giggling and grinning the whole time. Bonde’s smile widened at the pure joy emanating from the girl and her friends as she crawled off the mat and back to the group of women congratulating her for staying on as long as she did.
Every so often during their pool game, both men stopped to watch as girl after girl tried to hang on. Some lasted for almost thirty seconds, others slid off almost before the ride even started. Not a single one walked away with a frown on her face or a slump to her shoulders. Each one was happy and enjoying the night.
Three beers and two games later, Dan had tipsily and loudly announced that he wanted a go and Bonde snatched up their belongings right away, ready to watch Dan undoubtedly make a fool of himself. He hastily gathered up the pool balls and empty glasses, returning them to the bartender as Dan got in line.
The closer to the action, the more excited Daniel got - anxiously bouncing on his toes and clenching and unclenching his hands, occasionally drying off his sweating palms on his pants.
Bonde, on the other hand, had gotten increasingly more smug as girl after girl dropped just seconds into the ride. Dan tripped over his own feet while standing still and sober, there was no way he was lasting more than two seconds on that thing.
A small eternity later, it was Dan's turn.
The ride operator looked at the two from under the brim of his cowboy hat and with a thick country accent asked which of them was riding. Bonde had shamelessly pushed Dan closer to the fake bullpen before stepping to the side and pulling his phone from his pocket. The man smiled a little to himself as he looked Dan over from head to toe. Too caught up in unlocking his phone, Bonde missed the obvious leer. The man then asked Dan if he had ever ridden before, to which Dan had almost sheepishly answered no.
The guy was now fully grinning.
From seemingly nowhere, the cowboy produced a microphone and he spoke over Toby Keith’s deep Southern drawl through the barn speakers, “Hey, y’all. Lemme have your attention real quick. We got newbie Dan over here taking on our old friend Diablo. Why don't y'all all go ahead and give him a bit of encouragement?” Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the mic was gone.
As the interior of the bar had erupted into claps and whoops, the ride operator took the cowboy hat from his head and planted it onto Dan’s. The guy's breath tickled the brunette’s ear as he spoke over the noise, “You stay on for at least eight seconds, the hat’s yours.”
Dan had been so busy nodding along to the man as he explained the one rule - a single hand on the rope at all times - directly into his ear that he didn't catch the flash of confused jealousy that lit up Bonde’s eyes nor the flash of Bonde’s phone that lit up their little back corner, forever immortalizing the delightfully gorgeous picture that was Cowboy Dan.
As the cheering died down, Dan was directed into the bullpen and suddenly nervous, he fumbled a little as he threw a leg over the contraption. At the blunder, Bonde momentarily forgot his animosity towards the redneck at the control box and turned his camera from photo to video, happily hitting record.
Dan shuffled forward on the bull and looped the rope once around his right hand. The operator gave Dan a thumbs up. Dan nodded back. The younger man's steel blue eyes locked straight onto Bonde’s electric blues as he pretended to spin a lasso around his head with his left hand, “Yeehaw.”
Bonde couldn't help but roll his eyes at how endearingly dorky the motion was. He didn't try to fight the smile splitting his face.
The operator hit the switch and the bull started a slow circle as Cody Johnson’s ‘Welcome to the Show’ tore through the building. The boys may have thought the previous songs were loud but this one was absolutely ear-splitting. Out of the corner of his eye, the blond could see people pausing mid pool games and dart matches, leaning against tables and counters, to watch the newcomer.
It's one rowdy cowboy throwdown,
The bull leisurely tilted forward, Dan carefully leaned back. The muscles in his thighs and right arm tightened under his tan skin as he held on. His shirt sleeve looked ready to burst at the seams around his bicep. Bonde’s smile started to fade.
Welcome to the show,
The bull tilted back faster, Dan leaned forward hastily. The hat fell over his eyes and he quickly reached up and put it back in place with his free hand. His left his hand there. The ride sped up even more. Bonde watched in stunned disbelief as his recording surpassed eight seconds.
Are you ready for a ride,
The bull spun in an erratic circle, jerking to a stop and then whirling back around in the opposite direction. The man on top of the machine hunkered down, counterbalancing with his entire body. A thin layer of sweat had broken out all over Dan’s skin. Bonde’s mouth watered and his toes tingled.
Yeah, you better buckle up and hold on tight,
Dan was unexpectedly - erotically - good at offsetting the motion between his legs by rocking his hips forward and back and Bonde’s brain slammed to a stop as it tried to figure out what to do with the information.
‘Cause tonight, y'all,
As the machine bucked abruptly, Dan let go of the hat, throwing his left arm high above his head for extra balance and leaned back once more, the hand between his legs straining with the effort of staying on. He suddenly became the hottest person Bonde had ever seen.
The position was gone too fast. Thank fuck for cell phones.
We all gotta little bit of cowboy deep inside,
The older man’s mind finally decided what to do with the information that was now forever burned into his memory as Daniel ultimately slid off the side of Diablo, the hat tumbling away. The brunette laid on his back for a moment catching his breath before rolling over into his hands and knees, quickly finding Bonde in the crowd, seeking out the older man's approval on his rodeo debut, a massive smile plastered on his face.
“Everyone give it up for Dan!” The booming voice of the ride operator kicked-started Bonde’s cogs and he hurriedly elbowed his way through clapping and whistling bar patrons. As he neared where his friend was exiting the bullpen, he caught the last few words of the cowboy as he was shoving the hat back onto Dan’s head and speaking directly into his ear again, “..all yours. Look, if you ever wanna hang out sometime..”
Without sparing the stranger a glance, Bonde grabbed hold of Dan’s wrist and pulled him away as he hollered over his shoulder, “He’s good. Thanks.” Bonde couldn't see Dan’s face as he dragged him through the bar but he could easily imagine the confusion under the shadow of his new accessory. He squeezed his wrist twice and hoped it conveyed that he would explain in a minute.
Behind their rapidly disappearing backs, Cowboy Curtis held his hands up and gave Bonde a 'he's all yours’ look as they pushed their way to the bar to retrieve Dan’s card and close their tab as swiftly as possible.
Bonde was no longer amused at the scantily dressed woman behind the bar as she congratulated Dan with another wink while flaunting her chest in their faces. The twenty eight year old grumpily snatched up the debit card from the counter before hauling his friend out the door.
Dan finally spoke up, still a little breathless, as Bonde took them to the nearly pitch black side of the building instead of through the dusty parking lot back to their car, “Bonde, what-”
The sentence ultimately remained unfinished as Bonde slammed Dan against the wood slants and smashed their lips together. Dan stood frozen for only a second before joining in. Still high off of Diablo’s adrenaline, he wasted no time slipping his fingers under Bonde’s shirt, elated at finally having permission to touch and grope his friend's hard muscles and soft skin like he had wanted to for years. Never one to be out done, Bonde retaliated by hooking his fingers into Dan’s belt loops and tugging until their hips were pressed tightly together. He took Dan’s answering gasp as an invitation to slip his tongue into his mouth, savoring the last remnants of beer from his teeth.
The two panted and pressed into each other for what could have been hours or seconds, all of their attention on the other man, until the creaking of the barn door opening and then slamming shut froze them in place. Bonde crowded impossibly closer to Dan as they faintly heard two women giggling and slurring along to whatever song was pumping out of the indoor speakers.
It wasn't long before the girls were out of earshot and while Dan continued to look like a deer in headlights (a hot deer with mussed hair, bruised lips, with virtually no blue left to his irises), Bonde stooped to pick up the fallen hat from the ground, fitting it into his own head instead of Dan’s as he spoke, “Looks like there's a rodeo in town and tonight my name’s Diablo. Show me how long you can hang on, cowboy.”
Bonde grabbed a fistful of Dan’s shirt and yanked him in for another brutal kiss before letting go and turning away. Daniel stumbled after Bonde as the latter started across the gravel road leading to their car, trying to stealthily adjust his jeans as he went.
That night the two men became very familiar with Big & Rich’s ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’.