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“Like that?” Andres lets out a breath as the rough bandages fell into place. “Tighter.” He murmurs, his voice soft as Cassidy works. Andres could feel the other man’s hesitation at his request, only for a moment before the bandages tighten slightly. Normally, the process felt like a reminder of all that he wasn’t. But now with Cassidy, it feels almost like love.
Cassidy’s hands and touch were something akin to tender as they pinned the long linen strips together. The warm summer air filtered in through the cracked window, a small sense of peace in their chaotic day to day.
Andres runs a hand over the white linen, the color a stark contrast to his own tan skin. It still feels a little wrong, like he’s playing at something he isn’t. He shakes the thoughts clear as Cassidy hands him a shirt. The silence is a comfortable one as Cassidy turns away, his golden hair glowing in the soft lamp light.
It’s domestic in a way Andres hasn’t felt in years.
His hand lingers on the taunting flatness of his chest for a moment longer. He feels too soft yet there’s a distinctive hardness to him now, like some disjointed rag-doll. Andres doesn’t linger on the thoughts for too long, tearing his eyes away from the sight of his own body.
“I don’t know how you sleep with that on.” Cassidy slides into the bed beside Andres. “Seems too tight, if you ask me.” Andres chuckles faintly as he lays beside him. “S’fine, once you get used to it.” He stares up at the old ceiling, hesitating before resting his head on the older man’s shoulder.
Andres runs a hand through Cassidy’s hair. He picks out the knots in the otherwise smooth hair as they rest in quiet contentment. Sweat beads at his forehead in the heat of the room.
Andres allows himself to feel whole in the moment. There’s no fighting, no strange competition, no mention of the feelings neither of them can articulate. He murmurs out an apology as his fingers tug at Cassidy’s hair. He wonders if this is what it’s like for the women he’s seen in town, their arms linked with similarly well dressed men.
“What’s it feel like,” Cassidy doesn’t look at Andres. “‘Being like you?” Cassidy’s voice was a soothing rumble, one he could feel deep within his soul.
Andres admires the way Cassidy’s hair feels in his fingers as he thinks. “Strange.” He answers. “Like your skin is pulled too taut.” He pauses as a rough hand finds his, intertwining their fingers for a brief moment. "Some days it feels like I'm walkin' around in someone else's body."
He didn't meet Cassidy's eyes. The rough hands spoke of a life much harder than his, but the callouses felt like home. "Well," Cassidy speaks after a moment. "You're man enough. At least for me." His laugh is a comfortable sound.
Cassidy slips his hand from Andres', his touch firm as he places his hand atop his chest. The touch isn't intimate in nature but to Andres, it feels as if the man was touching his very soul. It's a rare moment he allowed anyone but himself to touch, but to be angry seems almost like it would defiling in some way.
Some distant voice whispered in his mind not to believe. A man like Cassidy, a man so much like his father couldn't possibly see him like that. The voice whispered betrayal and misplaced caution even as it was washed out by Cassidy's warmth. His own body might've felt like a prison on most days but now with Cassidy, he felt as if he could take on the world.
"You think so?"
"I said I did, didn't I?"
Andres chuckles, pressing his face into Cassidy's shoulder. He breathes in the familiar scent of the older man; smoke and leather. The soft sound of rain came from outside, pattering on the old home. His eyes slipped shut as he lays next to Cassidy. The two figures were bathed in the warm lamplight of the room.
He keeps Cassidy's hand splayed across his chest. He knows they probably won't speak of this moment come morning, that they'll go back to their comfortable refusal to speak of what goes on in their minds. But if Cassidy offers to help him again, he'll gladly let the man do so.
Andres places his own hand over Cassidy's chest. It's smaller than the older man's hand that rests against his own. The steady beat of Cassidy's heart beneath his hand matches his own. Despite their many brushes with death, they're still alive. They still have one another. And that's enough for Andres.