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I’ll wear your corduroy, dance like a top in your
dream something sweet for me sleep like a rock in your
nightmares can’t touch me when you’re here with me
(Corduroy, Hippo Campus)
Otabek tells him to shoot straight. Otabek also sidles up behind him, one arm steadying the gun, the other hand in Yuri’s front pocket to adjust his hips.
Otabek murmurs in his ear, “Aim true, Scorpion.”
Yuri shoots straight anyways, despite the obvious distraction tactics.
Otabek steps back with a grin. “I’ve been thinking,” he says.
Yuri closes one eye and shoots again. The bullet pings off of the tin can on a rock, about a hundred feet away.
“Dangerous,” Yuri says, reloading and cocking the trigger. As he lines up for the next shot, Otabek leans back in.
“I know,” he says. “Let’s rob a train.”
This causes Yuri to fire wildly off-target, spooking both their horses, who run a few paces and glare at the two cowboys.
Yuri makes a show of looking around the barren desert they’re using for target practice. “Do you see any trains around here?”
Otabek smiles back like he has a plan. Of course he does.
“Dumbass,” Yuri scowls. “So we’re gonna rob a freight and what, ride off with a thousand pounds of grain?”
“Southwest Regional,” Otabek says.
Yuri balks, like he often does with Otabek’s hairbrained schemes. “The fucking Southwest Regional?”
The government-owned mail carrier would be a lucrative score, but a few high profile robberies in recent years meant the Feds had beefed up their security on their cross-country journeys. They’d have to find a train carrying bank notes about to be taken out of circulation, but if they managed it…
“You’re crazy,” Yuri says.
“I think we can do it,” Otabek says.
Yuri crosses his arms. “Course we can do it,” he says.
—
Before he finally got his own horse, Otabek rode hands around Yuri’s waist—Marianne protested, at first, but finally she accepted Otabek like her own rider. Sometimes Yuri found them whispering to each other, but the sting of betrayal was overcome by the sharp stab of affection and Otabek’s sly grin when he’s been caught sneaking her treats.
When she died, Yuri didn’t want to get up for days. Otabek’s about as broken as he was, but he kept them moving—always moving—and fed. She looked like she was sleeping, lying on her side like she often did in the shade, but they didn't have the shovels to bury her like they should. Besides, the desert was a horrible place to hide a body, the sands ever shifting, the land an inhospitable hunk of packed dirt and rocks.
Yuri cut a braided lock of her mane, and they moved along before he could curl up against her and stay there forever. A cowboy shouldn’t shed tears, but in Otabek’s strong arms, he fell apart.
They shared their first kiss that night, too, a bubbling up of emotions that neither could deny anymore, and it was salty from Yuri’s tears.
Eventually Yuri had to buy another horse, and he chose one that was sleek black, glass-eyed, and angry. Bear was the polar opposite of Marianne, and the challenge could take his mind off her. And since he wasn’t as temperate, Otabek finally bought his own horse after leeching off Yuri for so long, and Yuri made him name it so he didn’t lose her this time.
He chose Aureate, informing Yuri that he’d been told it was another word for gold, and that he thought it was beautiful.
Yuri informed him back that he was being mighty full of himself.
The following weeks were numb, but with Otabek’s quiet determination, Yuri got through it, and for probably the hundredth time in his life, he was thankful his partner was there.
—
Yuri wants to buy dynamite. Otabek thinks they can do without.
“Okay, sure, let’s just hop on the goddamn train while it’s moving and then jump off, somehow landing perfectly on our horses’ backs,” Yuri says. “Can’t see how that could ever go wrong.”
“We’ll stop it,” Otabek says. “But we don’t need dynamite.” Then he grumbles something that Yuri can’t make out in the distance between their trotting horses.
“Can’t hear you, idiot,” Yuri says.
“I said dynamite is dangerous!” Otabek yells back, a little too loud. His eyes widen like he’s spilled a secret, then he tips his hat low to hide his face in shadow.
Yuri wracks his brain for all of the Otabek stories he knows. Not the paddle steamer—that was a one man operation. He lands on a story about a bank heist, where they used dynamite to enter through the side of the vault instead of the armored front door. Otabek hadn’t told him what happened to his co-conspirators, but with his attitude towards explosives, it couldn’t have been good.
“You don’t trust me?” Yuri asks.
Otabek doesn’t respond, which means it’s something else.
“Quit ignoring me,” Yuri says.
Otabek sighs. “I take risks,” he says, voice low. “But I don’t take risks on you. Not anymore.”
Yuri’s chest squeezes. He nudges Bear towards Otabek’s horse until he can lean over, grab his jaw, and pull him in for a kiss.
“No dynamite,” Yuri says. Otabek nods.
—
Yuri’s month alone made him feel not unlike a tumbleweed, blowing through the desert, aimlessly looking for his next score. He rode through a few towns, braved rainstorms, and knocked back drinks to pass the time. As much as Yuri had tried to avoid a painful split with Otabek, he realized too late that it had become too late.
He drank himself asleep at bars, not quite a mess, but not the sleek, prowling cougar he usually was. It was in one of these bars that he miraculously ran into his old partner again.
Had he been following Yuri? Yuri made a show of being surprised, but he secretly hoped Otabek really had been tailing him all along.
They chatted, catching up on their time apart. Otabek still didn’t have a horse, so it baffled Yuri that he made it this far. Yuri tried to embellish his tales to make his last few weeks seem more interesting than he spent them, but Otabek saw right through his bravado and posturing. Shit, the wound was too fresh, and Otabek could still worm his way into Yuri’s soul, despite how he tried to keep it under lock and key.
They talked so long that the barback had to kick them out, and Yuri was reluctant to part again. Since he was drunk and feeling sentimental, he pulled Otabek in for a very uncharacteristic hug.
And more surprisingly, Otabek hugged him right back, one hand on Yuri’s lower back, the other hooking a finger into Yuri’s belt loop to bring him closer.
Yuri was breathless by the time they pulled apart.
“Missed me too much?” he managed to say.
Otabek’s slow stare up and down his body was more than unnerving—it made Yuri’s face go red hot.
“Something like that,” Otabek said.
—
The train robbery heist comes together in a few weeks. First, Yuri procures the train’s route with some tactical flirting and a promise to rendezvous with a gentleman for a weekend getaway, which is a lie, of course.
Even though it’s a different train, the ticket gets him access to the map of the entire journey, and from there the train lines are easy to follow.
Otabek devises the plan, since he has more experience holding up locomotives. A well-placed bonfire should stop the train on the tracks, then Yuri and Otabek would come in guns a-blazing (hopefully not, but they had bought two new shotguns, just in case) and clear the place out. From what they knew, the Southwest Regional shouldn’t have too many cars, since it won’t be carrying too many people other than the mailmen and the conductors, but security is their biggest concern.
For good reason, no one really knows how many people they have guarding the vaults these days. It used to be just one mailman, and they weren’t even armed. But after the last high-profile train robbery about a year before, rumor had it that the Feds started sending actual soldiers cross-country with the mail.
Yuri knows he and Otabek could outdraw a couple of armed guards, but their chances get slimmer the more that they encounter on the train.
So with the main plan is supported with many, many contingencies, and before they know it, Otabek and Yuri are trotting their horses into Sunnystead, a newer town that had sprung up around the railroad tracks. There is a station, but not many trains stop there, and even fewer passengers come in and out. It’s the perfect spot to spend the night, since it is right on the railway but won’t arouse suspicion.
They board the horses, then Yuri secures a room key and meets Otabek at the inn’s taverna.
Otabek pushes a bowl of stew towards Yuri when he sits down. Yuri grimaces.
“Not really hungry,” he says. The wine looks good, though, and he gulps some of it down.
“Me neither,” Otabek says, but he’s shoveling down his food like he hasn’t eaten in days. Yuri just watches him in disbelief.
Otabek finishes his bowl, tipping it to his mouth to slurp up the dregs. When he realizes Yuri hasn’t touched his food, he wipes his mouth and frowns.
“You gotta,” he says. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yuri snaps. Otabek raises an eyebrow, and nudges him under the table with his boot.
“Don’t need you passing out on me tomorrow,” Otabek says, gentler this time. Yuri scowls, but he knows his partner is right. Despite the churn in his stomach, he knows this’ll be their last good meal for a few days, and he really does need all the strength he can get for tomorrow.
“Whatever,” Yuri says, and with a dramatic sigh, picks up his spoon and digs into his stew.
—
It took a few months after their daring escape at Oxpoint to brave a civilized town again, much less feel safe enough to stay at an inn, and in that time Otabek grew a mustache and beard and Yuri trimmed his hair short with Otabek’s straight razor, mimicking the other cowboy’s clean-cut style. They figured the hair was enough of a change in appearance to guarantee some sense of safety.
Yuri’s first night back on a mattress was nothing like he had ever experienced, since he’d never gone so long without one. However, he and Otabek had also gotten used to sleeping together, so Yuri checked in and got the key, and in the semi-crowded lobby, he flashed the room number in his palm behind him as he headed to his room.
A few minutes later, Yuri heard a knock on the door, and after looking both ways down the hallway, he pulled Otabek in by the collar with a dangerous grin. Otabek’s hands grasped for purchase of Yuri’s neatly-shorn hair, and he kicked the door shut behind him as they stumbled into the room.
On a bed, Yuri didn’t have to worry about the impact of his knees on the hard ground and could stare openly at Otabek, who was sweating and smiling below him. But when Otabek’s beard left burns on Yuri’s inner thighs, Yuri threatened to shave it off while they slept.
He was woken up the next morning by a clean-shaven kiss on the cheek, and Otabek said, “I miss your long hair.”
Yuri chuckled, throat sticky with sleep. “I’ll work on it,” he said.
—
The night before the robbery, though, Yuri doesn’t sleep much. Otabek snores softly next to him, head resting on one stretched out arm.
Yuri’s not usually a bundle of nerves before a heist, but this one’s big. Probably the biggest of his career, in terms of planning and preparation. If they walk away from it scott free, his life—their lives—are going to change forever. But if not… Yuri tries not to think about it.
A smoke sounds good. Cigars are too celebratory, but it’s all they’ve got that’s pre-rolled. Yuri doesn’t know quite how to roll his own (he had Otabek for that), but he’s seen it enough times.
The sheets slip from his hips as he eases off the bed. Yuri digs in Otabek’s packs and eventually finds the papers and tin of tobacco. His first attempt—kneeling by the side of the bed to get a flat surface—is shit, like a badly wrapped piece of candy. He frowns and dumps the tobacco back into the tin, and his second is a little better—not very pretty but at least it’s smokeable.
Yuri climbs back into the bed. He holds a book of matches, hesitant. If he lights up, it’ll definitely wake up Otabek, who looks so peaceful.
Fuck it. Yuri needs some company. He strikes the match and breathes in.
—
“Those things’ll kill you,” Yuri said, watching Otabek roll a cigarette on his knee. He didn’t do it often in the early days—it was a special vice he allowed himself after particularly good scores or particularly hard days.
This had been the latter, and Otabek had pulled out his rolling papers as soon as they set up camp. Otabek didn’t even spare Yuri a glance for the comment.
“I reckon there’s a few things that’ll take me out first,” he said, taking a pinch of his dwindling tobacco supplies and sprinkling it in a straight line.
“I never got the appeal of them,” Yuri said, plopping down next to Otabek.
“You never smoked?” Otabek asked, folding the paper between his thumbs and spinning it into a cylinder.
Yuri shook his head. “You never asked,” he said, and with a grin, scooched in closer.
Otabek raised an eyebrow. He licked the edge of the paper, sealing the cigarette shut, then cocked his head at Yuri.
“Didn’t peg you as interested,” Otabek said, sounding slightly playful. He fished a book of matches from his pockets, but before he could strike one, Yuri had wormed his way between Otabek’s arms and onto his lap. Yuri tapped the cigarette that stuck out between Otabek’s teeth.
“Looks stupid,” Yuri said.
Otabek resumed the task of trying to light his match. “It’s gonna get in your hair,” he said.
Yuri wrapped his arms around Otabek’s neck and leaned in closer, narrowing his eyes like a dare.
Otabek shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He brought the light between their faces, so close Yuri could feel the warmth of the small flame on his face. Otabek lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply to keep the spark alive.
He started to turn to the side to blow out the smoke, but Yuri grabbed his jaw and kept him there.
“I wanna try,” Yuri whispered, moving closer until their lips were almost touching. Yuri watched those lips smile and part gently, letting the smoke pass between them.
For one moment Yuri was able to close his eyes and breathe in the stinging, acrid smoke—before Otabek leaned back and blew the rest on his face.
Yuri sputtered and swatted the air around him. “Dick,” he said, coughing.
“Told you you weren’t gonna like it,” Otabek said, sucking through his teeth.
“Your fucking fault,” Yuri said. He crossed his arms, still positioned on Otabek’s lap, but the tension from earlier had faded into the cool air of the desert night, just like the ashes from Otabek’s cigarettes.
“Enjoy your tar sticks,” Yuri added. “I’m not coming to your funeral.”
“Oh, Yuri,” Otabek said, a small smile on his lips. “Surely cigarettes won’t be the death of me.”
“Oh yeah? Then what will?” Yuri asked.
Otabek looked at him for a moment, before blowing another lungful of smoke into Yuri’s face, leaving him coughing and sputtering into the quiet desert night.
—
They can see the smog puffing in the horizon, a small column at first, but steadily getting bigger.
“Ready?” Otabek asks.
Yuri kicks a stray log closer to the fire in front of them. “Course,” he says, though his stomach is in knots.
The green wood they’ve chosen burns smokes hard, but Yuri isn’t sure if it’s big enough yet, and the train is getting closer.
Otabek sees the fidgeting and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he says. “It’ll stop.”
Yuri shakes it off. “Shut up,” he says, “I’m not worried.”
The day had gone smoothly enough. The wood was easy to procure, and Aurie took the extra weight without too much complaint (she was more annoyed at the extra rider than anything, but no horse was as kind as Marianne). They boarded her with a local farmhand about a mile away, who gladly accepted the rest of Otabek and Yuri’s money for some stable space and silence.
After the stay at the inn, Otabek and Yuri had pretty much exhausted the rest of their funds—they were truly going for broke with this one.
Then, after dropping off Aurie, they walked the rest of the way, set up the bonfire, and waited for the Southwest Regional.
“It’ll stop,” Otabek says, again. Yuri is about to tell him to shut it, but he stops himself when he sees the look on his partner’s face.
The train whistle blows. Yuri tenses, wishing there was anything solid to hide behind in the barren wasteland, but hoping the smokescreen will give them the slightest bit of an edge.
Otabek places a hand on Yuri’s lower back, steadying. The train barrels forwards, still coming fast. It should be slowing by now, no? Yuri sneaks a glance at Otabek, whose eyes are narrow slits over the bandanas they wear over their noses and mouths.
Another minute goes by, and the train still shows no sign of slowing. The horn blows—Yuri flinches—and it keeps on down the line.
It’s clear now that the train isn’t going to stop—or at least, not in time to avoid the flames on the tracks. Otabek and Yuri have to act fast, before they get struck by the debris of the train running through the bonfire.
Their instincts from a year of side-by-side traveling kick in and they move as one, taking off and running along the tracks away from the train. Less than a minute later, the train barrels into the bonfire and bursts through the smoke, sending burning wood and coals scattering.
The train is on them fast, and Yuri leaps, grabbing hold of the railing on the moving car. Yuri holds out his arm as Otabek jumps, and he catches him and swings him up.
For a moment they hold each other in the rushing wind, neither of them moving.
“What the fuck!” Yuri yells, still in shock. Did they really just jump onto a moving train?
Otabek stares at him wide-eyed for a second, then throws back his head in a glorious laugh.
Yuri joins in, too, ripping off his bandana. They laugh wildly for a minute, and then Otabek also removes his mask and kisses Yuri.
The wind blows, curving around their bodies and pressing them closer to each other. Yuri’s lost in the kiss until his back hits the outside of the train car and he’s knocked back into reality. He gently pushes Otabek away, who nods. Time is of the essence, and the longer they wait, the further they get from the rendezvous point with Bear.
Yuri starts off with Otabek close behind. The engine is only a few cars ahead, so they carefully pull themselves along the train, the slipstream threatening to sweep them off of the car. Yuri helps Otabek jump the final distance between the cars and they press against either side of the door, readying their weapons.
Otabek jiggles the cabin door handle, which gives way easily. Idiots, Yuri thinks. Well, if they didn’t stop the damn train, the least they could do is leave it unlocked.
He counts down on his hand, and when his last finger drops, Otabek kicks in the door, startling the two conductors in the front car.
“Hands up!” Otabek yells, pointing his pistol at the conductor by the controls. Yuri aims for the other. Both put up their arms immediately, and Yuri goes to tie them up.
“Stop the train,” Otabek tells his hostage. He hesitates and looks at the other conductor, the one Yuri’s manhandling. The tracks rumble beneath their feet.
“He can’t help you, dumbass,” Yuri says. “Just stop the fucking train.”
The engineer nods helplessly, and there’s a few tense moments where he’s pulling a few levers with Otabek’s gun trained on him, but the brakes squeal and the train begins to slow, and for the first time since they hopped on this moving deathtrap Yuri finally takes a deep breath.
Once the train comes to a complete stop, Yuri finishes tying up the other engineer.
“Hey,” Otabek says, motioning him over. Yuri kicks the engineers over so that they’re on their sides, bound and gagged, and then joins Otabek near the controls.
“I think this is a radio,” Otabek says, tapping on a sleek metal device that looks out of place with all of the train’s other hardware, which is all in various stages of paint chipping or rusting.
“Huh,” Yuri says. “Haven’t seen one like this before. Think it’s trouble?”
Otabek tilts his head like he’s thinking about it, then shoots it twice with his pistol. The machine sparks, and then hisses to death with a tiny puff of smoke.
“You’re so dramatic,” Yuri says. “Now everyone will know we’re here.”
“Hopefully they figured it out when the train stopped,” Otabek replies, then turns to leave.
Yuri points his gun between the two terrified engineers on the cabin floor. “You two behave down there, alright?”
He winks at them and follows Otabek out the door.
The next cabin—a passenger car—is empty, and as Yuri creeps along, he gets the sneaking suspicion that all of the staff are making a final stand at the car with the vault.
Sure enough, two cars later they come face to face with three trembling postmen, each holding a shotgun raised at Otabek and Yuri.
The safety is still on for two of the guns. Yuri puts a hand on his hip and says, “Step aside now, y’all.”
Otabek nods, his pistol still drawn. “No need for this to get ugly.”
One of the mailmen speaks up, a mousy fellow whose shotgun is shaking when he lifts it to Yuri’s chest. “Get on out of here,” he says without a lick of confidence. He’s sweating buckets. “D-d-don’t make me use this.”
Yuri rolls his eyes and shoots him in the boot. The mailman screams and grabs his foot, causing him to drop his rifle. It hits the ground and misfires, frightening the other two mailmen—who drop their guns as well.
So much for beefed up security. The other two crowd around their fallen comrade, crying and shaking like they were the ones who just got injured. Yuri has to knock his pistol against the metal wall of the train car to get their attention, and the loud clanging noise makes the three mailmen jump.
“He’ll be fine, so long as you get this train up and moving,” Yuri says. “So why don’t you be so kind and open up this vault for us, and then we can be on our way?”
A few words are exchanged between the mailmen, then one wipes his nose and proceeds to open the vault for them, a series of deadbolts unlocked with shaking keys in a process that is so frustratingly slow and aggravating that Yuri honestly wishes he’d fought harder for dynamite.
But when the final lock turns and the vault is open, all of that stress and anxiety vanishes. The inside is unimpressive—mostly files cabinets—but the papers inside are worth way more than this train could ever carry in gold bars.
Yuri’s grinning wide under his bandana, and he can tell Otabek is too by the crinkle in his eyes. Otabek gets to work tying up shot-foot and the other useless mailman, while Yuri holds his mailman at gunpoint and has him unlock all the drawers and boxes, stuffing banknotes in his pack as he goes. Otabek throws him the extra duffles he has in his rucksack, and eventually joins in collecting as many bills as they can fit. They always knew they weren’t going to be able to clean the place out, but as a final fuck you to the bankers, they dump the rest of the side of the tracks and light them on fire.
The mailmen’s eyes water as they watch the money go up in flames.
It’s been almost a full 15 minutes since they stopped the train, but with the distance they traveled while it was moving, Yuri figures they have twice as long of a hike back as they planned—this time, carrying bags stuffed with money.
Otabek throws the final duffles off of the train and they jump off onto the tracks together.
Yuri turns back to face the sniveling mailmen, and since he’s feeling cheeky, he gives a small bow.
“Pleasure doing business with you, sirs!” he says.
From the look on their faces, Yuri can tell that they do not appreciate humor.
He and Otabek set off along the railroad, back the way they came. The train is shrinking in the distance when Otabek finally speaks up.
“I’m dramatic?” Otabek asks.
Yuri grins. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
Otabek huffs and adjusts one of his bags so he can wipe the sweat from his eyes. They walk a few more minutes before he adds, “Good work today, partner.”
Yuri’s legs and shoulders are burning from the weight of the bags and he’s sweating buckets, but that comment lightens him a whole ton.
“Yeah? Think I’m ready for the big leagues, Goldenhand?” he teases.
Otabek grins. “I think we’re already there, Scorpion.”
—
Otabek always won at darts, but at least he also always bought the sore loser (usually Yuri) a drink after.
By his third consolation beer, Yuri was feeling a lot better, so he kicked Otabek’s shin to get his attention at the barstool next to him and asked, “Why’d you choose Scorpion?”
Otabek sipped from his own bottle and shrugged. “You wanted a nickname,” he said. The piano was soft in the background, the buzz of the drinks drowning out the hum of the bar.
Yuri kicked him again. “Duh,” he said. “Not the question I asked.”
“You’re sharp, like a scorpion,” Otabek said.
Yuri scoffed. “Lots of things are sharp. Like knives. Or swords.”
Otabek raised an eyebrow as he took another swig. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. Yuri stayed silent with a sly smile instead of dignifying the other cowboy with a response. They both knew what he wanted.
“Fine,” Otabek said. He turned to face Yuri, swiveling on his barstool. “Cause they’re sharp, and they’re dangerous, but they’re some of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen.”
Yuri hoped his blush wasn’t too noticeable under the dim lights. He could always blame it on the alcohol.
“And,” Otabek continued, “if you get too close, they’ll pinch you.”
Yuri knew it was supposed to be something flattering, but there was still a twinge of resentment in it too, a bad taste left from when Yuri had abandoned his partner. Yuri leaned back, trying to hide his discomfort in his beer.
After a few moments, he felt a hand on his knee, barely hidden by the shadow of the oak bar and the haze of its smoking patrons. Yuri looked back to find Otabek staring at him intensely.
“I don’t mind a little pain,” he said.
Yuri had to blink back unexpected tears. “Yeah, well, good,” he said quickly. “You’re stuck with me.”
Otabek nodded, and his hand slipped from Yuri’s knee. He raised his bottle.
“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” Otabek said.
Yuri met it with a soft tap, then drank deep.
—
When they finally rendezvous with Bear, Yuri’s legs are aching something fierce, and all he wants to do is lie down in the rocky outcropping and go to bed. But they’re still only a few miles away from the train tracks and so despite feeling like a deflated sack, they have to keep moving.
Yuri and Otabek stash the money under rocks and dirt as well as they can, then they hop Bear and thunder to the ranch they left Aurie at. Otabek’s carrying a pack filled with bills just in case their hiding spot is found out while they’re gone, but the weight of two riders is already a lot for Bear, who only recently let Otabek ride him, too.
Luckily, the journey is short, and another breath-holding hour later, Otabek and Yuri return to find their loot untouched. They load up the horses, and then set off East on foot, perpendicular to the train’s route.
They walk in silence, the adrenaline from their successful heist having faded into a dull exhaustion. Otabek pushes even after the sun goes down, and only once the moon has passed its peak and the cactus have shuttered their blooms does he let them set up a quick camp.
“It won’t be like this for long,” Otabek says, passing Yuri some jerky. They’re lying on the desert floor, sharing a rucksack for a pillow. “Promise.”
“I know,” Yuri says. He takes a bite of the dried meat and hands it back.
“Just gotta get a little further,” Otabek says. The plan is to meet up with a banker Otabek knows, but they need to travel a few towns away from those on the train line as so not to arouse suspicion. On horseback it would take a full day of traveling, but with Bear and Aurie loaded and them on foot, the time nearly triples.
“I know,” Yuri repeats, snuggling closer, pressing his face into Otabek’s shoulder.
Sleep comes quickly, but so does the sunrise. Yuri’s the first one up, and he has to shake a dead-asleep Otabek back to life so that they can start walking again. At least the night’s chill has left some dew, and the desert sparkles as it wakes up.
Otabek looks like he’s going to fall asleep walking, so Yuri tries to wake him up with some light conversation.
“What’re you gonna do first?” Yuri asks. “With the money?”
Otabek blinks sleepily, trying to process the question.
“Let me guess,” Yuri says. “New boots?”
“Maybe,” Otabek says, but glances at Yuri’s own pair. “You could use some new ones.”
“You got a screw loose, Beks,” Yuri says.
Otabek smiles, then wipes his eyes. “Good morning,” he says.
“Mornin.”
They trot along in a comfortable silence for a bit. Otabek is the one to speak up this time.
“I want to buy you a ranch,” he says.
Yuri stops in his tracks. He’d heard this plan from Otabek before, but this was the first time Yuri had been brought into the fold. More specifically, this is the first time Otabek has hinted that the plan might be for Yuri.
“Me?” Yuri asks.
“Yeah,” Otabek says. “It’d be nice to own some land, plus, I could take care of you—we could take care of each other.”
He’s blushing a little, now, and Yuri wonders how long he’s been thinking about this.
“The cow part,” Yuri says, slowly.
Otabek nods. “The cow part.”
“Okay,” Yuri says. “Say I agree—do I gotta pitch in my half for the property?”
For the first time that morning, Otabek smiles. “No. Said I’m buying it for you.”
Yuri can’t stop himself from grinning back. “I gotta say, you’re a real gentleman, Beks,” he says. “You already thinking of retirement?”
Otabek shrugs. “Can’t do this forever,” he says.
“It’ll be awful hard to disappear,” Yuri says. “Especially after this.”
“We’ll think of something,” Otabek says. “So, you in?”
Yuri nods. “Yeah. I’m in,” he says.
And hand and hand, Otabek and Yuri walk off towards the rising sun.