Work Text:
Crash — without warning, the sound of an ornate flower pot splintering and scattering shards all over the floor echoed through the One and Only’s hull, and within a moment’s notice both men boarding the ship instinctively reached for the weapons at their side. The blink of an eye, of gray meeting green full of the same resolve, was all it took to assume the formation by the cockpit’s exit that, by now, felt like second nature. Should it come time for the place he’d called home for the last weeks to be under siege, the darned be the day they crossed paths with Boothill’s loaded gun.
Whatever had just barged in, it’d been too loud for an IPC operative boarding the vessel — they didn’t know much else, but those shuckers were damn good at surprise visits every once in a while — but here, just outside of the Asdana system, there were few factions with enough of a presence to try and hijack a ship, even a small vessel like the One and Only. Flicking his wrist open to make sure he was loaded, Boothill took a glance back over to Argenti, who had taken position on the opposite side of the doorframe.
“Either this joker thinks we’re real easy prey, or we’ve got someone exceptionally ballsy on our hands, don’t we, Genti?”
The other nodded curtly, Lance at the ready as he seemed to scour his field of vision for the intruder.
“If Idrila wills it, their defeat will be swift and merciful.”
“And if they don’t?”
At that, Argenti smiled.
“Then, my silver cowboy, I just hope your bullets don’t break any more vases.”
After the initial blast of noise, the living area had gone quiet as a graveyard. Only after they entered did heavy metallic footsteps resound on the wooden floor. Porcelain shards littered the ground, having skid across the floor, while water pooled by the fallen roses at the foot of the couch. Pillows and blankets were motionless in their disarray, pushed and scrunched up in the corner, doors and sensors untouched and glowing in pale golden light. While Argenti retained remarkably calm scouring the area, with every further empty look taken around, Boothill’s hands whirred antsily. A lack of target, however, it may lull you into a sense of security, was hardly ever safer than another gunman smack dab in the middle of your vision. He could practically feel the trigger happy urge tensing his hydraulics. He wouldn’t let some fudger be a danger to the ones close to him again, not if he had a say in it.
Jaw clenched together, Boothill was just about to check the next room over, when he heard Argenti’s voice behind him.
“I believe I have found our little… intruder, my friend.”
Boothill raised an eyebrow. “Little? What’s this now, did the IPC genetically modify their lackeys smaller so they’d be harder to hit?”
“Not quite. I doubt that would ease their plans much regardless.” Argenti chuckled. “Come, look here.”
He’d expected many things to have broken in; a spy, a gunman, heck, even the possibility of a fugitive back from Penacony had crossed Boothill’s mind, but not—
“Well fork me sideways, is that a
warp trotter
?”
Shivering under one of the blankets Argenti had lifted with his spear, the creature sat, hooves over what he assumed to be its head, emanating a low, pained squeaking sound as it tried to press itself further into the corner. Honestly, it looked more… pitiful than anything, far from dangerous enough to shoot at. With a sigh, Boothill disengaged his finger guns.
“Seemingly so. Although I will say, I have never had the privilege of being so close to one before.” Argenti replied, now kneeling on the wooden floor next to it. Carefully, he reached out his hand, but at that, the trotter flinched backward, baring golden tusks.
“And a feisty one too.”
Unexpectedly, the sight of Argenti kneeling beside the skittish creature, running a gloved hand over its snout sent a warm whirr through Boothill’s mechanical heart. ‘ Course he’s a big ol’ softie, should’a expected that. Still, rather than approach, the Galaxy Ranger kept his distance from the pair, a pang of… something in his gut.
“Why’s it not just… teleporting away? Isn’t that what these do when they’re afraid? Fork, why’s it even on the ship?”
Argenti shrugged, red locks slipping off his shoulders.
“Most likely it fled from something it considers a larger threat out there in the stars. Though beautiful, many dangers abound in Idrila’s universe.” At the thought, Argenti seemed to pause, then pushed the blanket entirely aside. “Perchance it is injured? As much as I wish to be of use, I don’t have much experience with astral animal care, much less medicine.”
“What, so you wanna take care of this thing on the off chance it’ll get better?” Boothill eyed the pair wearily, trying his best to bite away the feeling. “It’s still a wild animal, ‘Genti, and this place ain’t exactly a wildlife sanctuary — hedge, it barely fits us two.”
For a moment, a quiet hung stagnant in the air between them.
“True beauty is abound not only in the visible, but also in actions, my dear cowboy.” The other replied softly, gaze resolute and unwavering in Boothill’s direction, even as the trotter squirmed and shivered. “Let me do this, my friend. Please.”
Boothill sighed, willing his tense shoulders to relax, his stiff fingers to drop. Aeons, how could he say no to those eyes.
“Fine. But I ain’t stayin’ where it’s stayin’. If you want advice you can ask, but I ain’t touchin’ it.”
Argenti’s face lit up in a demure, but noticeable smile.
And fork, what a smile that was.
“The bed is big enough to share, if you don’t mind it taking the living room.”
If Boothill were still able to blush, that may have done it.
“As long as i can move my stuff out. Don’t want the little shirt to get hurt playin’ ‘round with bullets or eatin’ shrapnel.”
“Sound thinking, my friend. Would you stay with it for a second? I will return with the first aid kit.”
Before Boothill could protest or comment about the difference in human and animal medicines, Argenti was already clattering off through one of the doors behind him, leaving him alone with the trotter in the corner. Sighing, the Ranger knelt downwards and pushed up his hat. It couldn’t be very old yet, not with that small a size; despite its best attempts to hide away that much was clear. Nicks and scratches were covering the trotter’s ears, one of its legs seemed injured in ways Boothill had seen in the livestock back home. Sure, this wasn’t quite a pig, but anatomically the bone structure couldn’t be that different — the points that Graey had taught him needed reduced pressure may still apply, and with the supplies in the room, they could build something of a pen for it to recover in. Surely they’d have some appropriate feed and —
Aeons, he felt like a little kid again.
Without thinking, Boothill reached out one of his hands, soft and gentle and slow, and held it in distance of where he assumed the trotter’s nose to be. But the animal didn’t react, only flinching further away, hastily and anxiously squeaking as if he had just made a motion to hurt it..
Right. There wasn’t much of a smell the trotter could get accustomed to anymore, was there. Just metal and gunpowder, not the most comforting thing there is.
Boothill didn’t even notice he’d started clenching his jaw before his teeth began to hurt under the pressure.
That’s right. He wasn’t meant for this anymore — not in this life, not with hands like his.
The sound of Argenti’s footsteps behind him pulled him out of his head and back on solid ground. Only half processing what the other was saying, Boothill made little grunts of agreement and made way for the knight in shining armor to save the day.
In the blink of an eye, he’d pulled away, as if he’d never even tried.
From that moment onward, the day passed in a blur. With the One and Only on temporary autopilot, Argenti devoted himself to caring for the “beautiful creature,” bandaging and disinfecting the trotter’s wounds according to Boothill’s instruction while said cowboy skulked around the remains of “his” living room, clearing it of debris, shards and transferring the few belongings he had to Argenti’s chambers instead. Slowly but surely, the makeshift nest for the trotter took shape, and despite a few start-up struggles trying to research trotter appropriate food, both the animal and its injuries were taken care of.
As soon as he’d seen an opportunity to do so, Boothill had already fallen back first on the sheets of Argenti’s almost comically soft mattress, silently watching through slightly translucent red canopy as he joined him in the room and started undoing the hinges of his armor bit by bit, placing the individual pieces of his gauntlets and shin guards on a table now haphazardly littered with Boothill’s own metal care utensils. Almost unintentionally, he swears he never would on purpose, Boothill’s eyes started trailing Argenti’s movements; the way his nimble hands would unlatch the leather, the way his long fingers pulled free his arms from the silver steel that encased them, as if he were completing a metamorphosis into something the Beauty could be even prouder of. Boothill wasn’t much of a believer, but fork, a sight like that could have him singing hymns.
Without even seeing his face, Boothill knew Argenti was smiling when he spoke.
“It is relieving to know the little critter is adequately taken care of, isn’t it?”
Boothill chuckled.
“At least for now. That son of a nice lady may be scared, but he’s got an attitude too. Still wild through an’ through.”
“Just like someone else I know.” Argenti laughed, and Boothill felt his chest whirring warmly just listening to it. The knight turned around with a pleading look and brushed some of his long hair away from his side. “Do you mind..? Reaching the latches for the breastplate is quite challenging on my own.”
And how could he ever mind a request like that?
With a huff, Boothill left his spot on the bed and placed his hands on Argenti’s armor. A soft sound of metal on metal resounded between them.
“Boy, how’d ya even manage before I came along, Genti?”
“Don’t ask me questions I don’t know the answer to, my silver cowboy. The Beauty simply willed me to live on, I suppose — but i’m glad I’ve found a companion in you.”
Companion. Him. Wubbaboo, what a thought.
Quietly, and oh so carefully Boothill started to get to work on the armor’s closure. Now that he was thinking about it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been so close to Argenti before. His hair smelled of the roses he kept all around the ship, of polish and warmth, and his breath was soft and steady, much unlike the cowboy’s own. A quiet clink ripped him out of his fantasies, as the first of the latches opened. At the sound, Boothill’s breath hitched.
Steady. Just steady your hands. They’re only hands, they’re not loaded. You’re not a danger to him now.
“Say, Boothill…”
“Mh?”
Argenti hesitated.
“You’ve no need to answer me if you don’t want to, but I have a question I’d like to ask.”
With another click, the second latch opened.
“Well?”
“You seem uneasy. Now, and with the trotter too. Are you alright?”
His fingers stopped at the last one.
Ah fork, he’d been a fool to think the other wouldn’t notice.
Boothill sighed.
“Fine as I’ll ever be, I swear. I’m just no good with animals.”
“You know a good deal about how to take care of them for someone who claims not to be.” Argenti smiles and shrugs off the heavy piece of metal, turning around to look at the tense cowboy standing behind him.
“And if it were only the trotter, you wouldn’t be so careful now. Lying is not a very virtuous thing to do, my friend.”
“Worth a shot.” Boothill chuckled, unable to keep a warm undertone from his voice, and lifted off the chestplate, then fell back on the bed.
“B’sides, this is a sign I’ve been on this ship too long, you know me too well.”
Out of his sight, he heard Argenti approach him.
“Have I done something to upset you? I apologize if I crossed your boundaries by being so insistent about the trotter.”
“Wouldn't have mattered if it was a trotter, a wubbaboo or some other creature out there either way.” He paused. a heavy feeling now finally felt in the place his heart used to be. “I can’t take care of nothin’ anymore, Argenti. This body’s not made for that.”
A heavy silence hung between them for a moment that felt much longer than it was.
“My hands, fork, everything about me is meant to kill as efficiently as possible, and I know I ain’t shooting anybody unless there’s bullets in my chambers but, sugar, Genti, it does something to your head to point a finger gun at some shirtbag one second and see brains flying the next. Not exactly the hands you want treatin’ an animal or close to the people you care for. They weren’t exactly made to feel much either.”
There was a bitter tinge to the words he was speaking, not out of cynicism, but pained with tinge of loss, the knowledge that once upon a time he would have never dreamed of leaving that kind of care to someone else, that once upon a time, he’d had gentle hands like Argenti’s he envied so much now.
Silently, he raised his hand, spread his fingers wide apart against the harsh light of the warm lamps above. His fingers weren’t quite the shape they used to be, and where calluses had once been replaced by sleek metallic joints and bullet chambers in his wrist. But as long as it was only the shadow he was seeing, he could pretend; in that moment of blinding light he was still there on Aeragan-Epharshel, back on the grass, soaking in the sun as it stood high at noon, listening to Nick sing the songs of the plains before they’d take off to drive the animals back to the ranch again.
With a sigh, Boothill closed his eyes.
“Before I hurt you or anything else, I’ll just keep my sweet distance so you don’t end up with more lead than you started out with.”
Suddenly he felt something between his fingers, holding the hand he’d held outstretched.
“I’ll stay anyway, if you don’t mind.”
Above his own face, covering his artificial sun, red locks cascaded downwards like red waterfalls, encasing his field of vision with Argenti’s very own warmth. Vulnerable, oh so vulnerable above him, he took his hand and guided it to his chest, unarmored, unprotected and yet he could almost imagine the warmth coming off of it and starstruck Boothill couldn’t focus on anything but the crinkles around Argenti’s eyes.
“These hands protect, Boothill. They care, You care more than you let on, don’t you? Otherwise you’d hardly worry so much.”
If he still had a heart, it’d be racing, but somehow, Boothill still felt lightheaded.
When he spoke, he shone just like the sun — his very own silver sun .
“You may not trust yourself, but I trust you. I swear on Idrila themselves I do. There’s more beauty in them than in any other hands I’ve had the pleasure to hold. You are far from the monster you consider yourself to be. You are more than the thing you’re trying to get revenge for.”
Gently, Argenti leaned in closer, pulling Boothill’s hand up from his heart, enclosing it in his own until he held it resting on his cheek.
“You’re holding me now, aren’t you? Do you trust me, my silver cowboy?”
Like they had before, their eyes met; silver gray and vibrant green, and just like before, what Argenti had said was answered without, just as well as words could have.
His. His silver cowboy.
“I do.”
Boothill rasped.
“Then trust yourself too. At least when you’re with me.”
Neither knew who had leaned in first, or who kissed the other first, but not the petal of a rose or the width of a hand could fit between them now. His lips were sweet and warm like the morning sun, silken and soft and beyond every sensation he had ever felt as Boothill felt himself enveloped in the floral smell of Argenti’s hair. He barely knew what he was doing when he reached out, pulling his knight onto him, into him, impossibly closer and closer until, noses brushing together, he’d forgotten that there was ever a space between them at all.
When they finally broke apart, breaths were shallow and eyes half closed, desperate and fulfilled all at once. Boothill already missed the feeling of Argenti’s lips on his.
“I can’t exactly keep your bed warm, Genti.” he breathed, consumed by the sight of Argenti’s tousled hair and his rosy cheeks. “I snore. I’m not soft. I will steal your blanket.”
The laugh escaping the other’s mouth lit sparks in Boothill’s chest.
“Oh, you fool. As long as you stay by my side I could not care less.”
And Boothill pulled him down again.
It took a few days for the warp trotter to recover fully, but considering the tender care it had been awarded, it was no surprise to see it walking around the living room pain free, to Argenti’s delight. As it turned out, experience did change the effectiveness of the treatment a considerable bit — Boothill’s knowledge of animal handling truly helped its health take a turn once he got the confidence to take charge hands on. Instead of a weary pang, Boothill felt a bittersweet nostalgia in his heart once it finally took off back where it had come from.
“Think we’ll see it again, partner?” Boothill muttered softly, reaching for Argenti’s hand.
“Maybe not, the universe is vast and beautiful after all.” Argenti replied, giving the metal a soft squeeze.
“However, I am certain it will remember us, maybe even longer than we will. Somewhere out there in the cosmos, a little creature will remember our kindness as long as it will live.”
He paused and turned to look at Boothill’s eyes.
“You did well, my silver cowboy. We did.”
And Boothill squeezed his hand back with a warm smile on his lips.
Maybe his gentle iron hands could still relearn to care.