Work Text:
May 1838
Nacogdoches, Texas
Sam Houston’s Office & Temporary Home
Memories are often considered the most precious thing someone can ever have. At least, to the common man in the 1800s. Every day was something unpredictable, unique—explicitly defined by a simple thought that could remind someone of a particular part of their life they experienced a great emotion in, rather that be happiness, desire, frustration—anything.
Well, it was harder for Sam Houston to have ever imagined anything other than… some sort of blank space lingering in his mind. Maybe he couldn’t process his emotions correctly. Well, it was true—he wasn’t the most coordinated or regulated man. He didn’t have anyone or anything telling him right from wrong. And he certainly didn’t have any more happy, protruding memories lightening his thoughts.
Sam lingered at his desk, his head down. Empty whiskey glasses scattered the table in front of him. A long night of planning, thinking. There was always something on his mind, but not entirely anything at all, either.
The soft morning sun began to pour in through the tiny window in the wooden office, hitting the floorboards and giving Sam a headache as he picked his head up. His head throbbed as he shifted in the uncomfortable wooden chair, his limbs heavy. As he gained his senses, his good friend Juan Seguín sat in another wooden chair in the corner, leaned back with his hat partially covering his face, deep asleep. It must’ve been a rough night. He remembered papers, and arguing… but not much more. “Fuck,” he muttered as he stood up, stirring Juan. He shoved glasses out of the way and grabbed his papers, shoving them into his bag. “Didn’t get anything done. Never do.”
Juan sat up, sliding his hat off and into his hands. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Sam huffed out, grabbing his rifle and knocking over a few books and hitting a table in the process. Juan rolled his eyes and took a step toward. “You fell asleep trying to write a letter. Just didn’t bother to wake you up.” What Juan was trying to say was more like ‘you were arguing with me all night and when you fell asleep I didn’t feel like getting yelled at,’ but he didn’t feel like arguing again. As Sam collected himself, Juan pivoted for the door. “I’ll grab the horses. We’d better get going back to Austin for that meeting before it gets too hot.” The door opened and shut, Sam’s head reeling. This hangover was bad. He had them often, but only so often was it this bad. He braced a hand against the desk, his other hand coming over his face. Starting a republic almost entirely by yourself was harder than it seemed. Meetings, speeches, thousands of letters and papers and documents… he was sick of it. He missed his house. Missed having a wife. His friends, drinking, going out, the Cherokee.
He blinked, the present clicking in around him, the sunlight now bright and the sky open and fierce. He groaned as he grabbed his powder horn and saddlebag, the wooden door opening and slamming behind him.
-
The ride wasn’t super long. The heat of the summer in Texas beat down on Sam and Juan, soaking through their thick cotton and wool clothing, not having enough money to afford anymore clothing than what was on their backs. Juan swiped sweat away from his forehead with his sleeve, his hands slick and slippery with the reins. Sam, on the other hand, trusted his beautiful steed to lead the way, shuffling papers in his hands. “When is the congressional meeting?”
Juan glanced over, his horse correcting Sam’s as he nearly bumped into him. Even the horses were tired from this deadly heat. “Tomorrow, but there’s a small meeting for the city council this evening. If we hurry, we might be able to catch it.”
Sam hummed. Congressional meetings were often hard to sit through, but lately, his interest had been piqued on his good friend, the very well-known David Crockett. He felt like the more successful version of Sam himself, a Tennessee-native. He was everything Sam couldn’t be and could’ve been, and it nearly frustrated him. How was David so easily able to be the center of attention? A stunning smile, standing at 5’8”, his laugh and tales able to light up a whole room.
It was a little more than friendly to say he looked up to him.
His mind drifted off as his eyes stayed steady on the page. Juan was talking to him or saying something, but it sounded all muffled. Sam’s vision unfocused before Juan snapped in his face. “Hello?! Sam, goodness gracious…” Juan sighed. “What’s up with you today? Are you feeling okay?”
Sam quickly shoved the papers back into his bag. “Sorry, I’m fine. Just…dazed by this heat.” He wiped his own hand across his brow, praying Juan hadn’t noticed his mind off somewhere else.
-
By the time Sam and Juan got to Austin, it had been nearly all day. They’d missed majority of the meeting, but the pair slipped in quietly and sat down to listen for what was left. It seemed slightly heated, whatever it was. Something about land and Mexico and slavery.
“Let’s calm it down, boys,” A voice cut through the clambered speaking quick, his drawl prominent and thick. All heads turned to nobody other than David Crockett himself. “Nothin’ is gonna fix itself, sure, but we can’t fix anythin’ either if we’re all yellin’ and arguin’. Have any of you bunch taken the time to even see that Sam Houston himself arrived, too?”
Heads turned to Sam, who blinked and sat up a little straighter. He was surprised David even noticed him walk in himself, but David was a man who noticed the tiniest things. He thanked David with a hand, who gave him a soft smile. “..What d’you think?”
Sam slowly stood up, meeting David’s stature. “We’re our own Republic now. Slavery can be legal if we feel so, but we don’t currently have a government sorted out. We can’t vote or make decisions until then.” He suddenly slipped into a groove of thought, his eyes searching for a moment as he began to pace the room, men watching him entranced. “So be it. We’ll form a government to get things up and running. And then we can start making these decisions there. Now, what time is it?”
“Nearly 6 o’clock, sir,” A man piped up, and Sam shook his head. “Gettin’ late. Alright, consider this meeting dismissed. I hope to see all of you at the congressional meeting tomorrow.”
The room began to disband, conversation striking as men gathered papers and bags and left. A few stragglers stuck around outside, but Sam beelined for David, blowing past Juan who had been attempting to ask him a question for far too long now. He stepped outside instead. David was slowly gathering his items from across the room at a small wooden desk, a few papers slipping out of his hands. “Ack—Sorry!” He flushed and fell to the floor to grab at them, his cheeks immediately turning a rose color.
Sam bent down and helped him gather the papers with a slight smile, which never nearly happened. “It’s alright. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing in Austin, David?” He handed David the papers back.
David laughed, flicking hair out of his face with the shake of his head. “I can’t seem to settle in one place yet. Besides, I’m just kinda pickin’ out my options of stuff to do here. Texas is a land of prosperity. Many decisions to be made.” He slipped his bag over his shoulder, draping it across his body. “…You’re givin’ me that look.”
Sam blinked rapidly. He didn’t even know he had been staring. “Sorry. Just a lot on my mind.” He quickly draped his arm around David’s neck, causing David to shiver for a moment. “Wanna get a drink?”
The warmth of Sam’s arm around him felt comforting. It felt nice to know another person in such an unfamiliar place. His face searched Sam’s for a moment. “…Alright.” David responded softly, patting Sam’s large hand on his shoulder.
-
The nearest tavern was packed to the brim. Austin was a bustling, upcoming town—and the second both legends walked in, the crowd roared for rounds and shots for everyone. The warmth of the tavern settled in with everyone as David and Sam slid in towards the countertop, Sam immediately taking out a cigarette, offering one to David to which he declined. They were quiet as David grabbed his drink, and Sam tapped ash off of his cigarette, his deep-set eyes staring at David. “The Texas Congress. I have a feeling you know what I want to ask.”
David rubbed the back of his neck. “…I couldn’t. I don’t know how all that would work, anyways, I don’t have the money for that—”
“You can stay with me.” Sam was quick to fill the blank. David blinked and he shifted. “Well… If you’d like, of course. Don’t… Don’t feel pressured. Just know you have somewhere to go.”
“You’d do that for me?” David smiled. Suddenly, the idea of David living with him seemed sickening—nerve racking, rather. Sam sucked it up and nodded, taking a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and asking for a quill. He wrote something out on it before handing it to David. “Just ask for me. You’ll be at the meeting tomorrow then, yes?”
David nodded rapidly. “Um—Yes, yes.”
Silence settled in again, Sam putting out his cigarette and taking a long gulp of whiskey, nearly emptying the glass. “…Another?”
David shrugged. Another came. And then another.
By the end of the night, Sam and David were both somewhat drunk. Sam was able to withstand liquor well before, but he was so used to drinking it now he had to have quite a few to get himself going—which was easy for an alcoholic. On the other hand, David had had quite a few glasses. The two stumbled down the quiet, night-stricken streets of Austin. Sam felt his feet drag against the ground, letting David lead him to wherever David was staying currently. “…David?”
David glanced behind him. “Mm?…”
“How are you so good with people? Everything I’m not?”
David stopped a few steps from the much smaller inn nearby. “…What?”
Sam clenched his fists. He wasn’t exactly upset… maybe frustrated. “Since we’ve been working together in Tennessee. How are you so friendly? Smiling all the time? Don’t you see how hard life is?”
David turned. “…I dunno. Guess haven’t thought too hard ’bout it. It’s so late, c’mon…”
“No.” Sam grabbed David by the wrist, pulling him closer. “Tell me.”
David tugged slightly, and Sam’s grasp on him shook before he loosened it. “...I’m sorry.” He let go, and David stay standing there, Sam looking away, or at the ground. Suddenly, David’s arms wrapped around him, squeezing him and causing Sam’s cheek to warm in the dim light. “Just… Don’t worry about it now, okay? We’ve got more important stuff…” David trailed off, extremely tired and half-drunk. Sam froze, wavering, blinking. Before he knew it, David was already inside the inn and the door closed.
That night, as David undressed and slipped onto the stiff cot, he stared up at the wooden ceiling, thoughts wavering in and out of his mind and keeping him awake. He thought of Sam. He was never particularly close with the man, but something felt different now that he was bound to be in closer quarters with him. Sam was most obviously interested in him in a way—most likely in his abilities and presence. As his mind drifted off, he felt his body become weightless.
Thoughts became desires he’d never indulge in. He missed home a little, sure, but he wanted to drink, get out. He needed something to distract his running mind.
And he knew exactly what he needed.
-
June 1838
Austin, Texas
Temporary ‘Capitol Building’
The next morning came quick. David grabbed his stuff and made it to the large, temporary ‘capitol building—’ it was more like a wooden shack with a few pieces of furniture here and there. The air was muggy today, the heat sticky in the air. The suit David had on was one of his finest, but definitely not built for the Texas heat. He messed with his hair the entire way there, annoyed at the fact his side part wasn’t sticking right, papers in his free hand as he hustled to the building.
By the time he got there, a few other men had already gotten there. As more men piled in, he found a chair to sit in. For being a middle aged man, he felt a little too old sometimes, constantly having to sit down and achy bones, always tired. Maybe it was just how he’d built himself to be. He tapped his heel against the ground without realizing, watching blankly as Sam and Juan both slid in a few moments before the meeting started, Sam taking a seat next to David. David was more than annoyed at the heat, causing him to be restless. As men began to strike up debate, he couldn’t focus, his leg shifting to bounce, or his foot rotating in place, or fidgeting with his papers.
Before he knew it, Sam’s hand slipped onto his leg. David’s head immediately snapped to glance at Sam, who mouthed, ‘are you okay?’ He just nodded, his cheeks an unbearable shade of red. At least he wouldn’t know part of it was the fact he felt heat creep up his neck just from Sam’s reassuring touch. David fanned himself with a stray piece of paper, sighing as long speeches turned into minutes, and what at least felt like hours. What he’d noticed was Sam’s hand hadn’t quite left his thigh yet. Heat sprouted and he shifted awkwardly, hoping a few of the men sat in front of him wouldn’t notice and covered other’s views.
David leaned over. “What are you doing?!”
Sam’s hand immediately came off his leg, worried he’d done something wrong, but David’s expression turned a little hurt. Sam shook his head softly. “…Nothing. Sorry.”
The two sat in silence, Juan observing the two well. He hadn’t seen what had happened, but it was clear a wall had come up between the pair. The meeting was long—hours long with no breaks. David only spoke a few times, and Sam spoke a little more here in there. By the end of the meeting, he was up and pacing and explaining how things were going to look, but his gaze rarely left David—and it was obvious.
“So be it. 30 Representatives, and 14 senators.” He turned to David, a heat crawling up his throat and causing his voice to choke up slightly. “I shall take the Presidential role. And I’d like to elect Mr. David Crockett as San Antonio’s Representative.”
David blinked, sitting up in his chair. “…U-Um…”
“Good idea, Sam!” Another voice piped up, and soon, a cry for David to be elected as a Representative hit the room, and Sam smiled, winking at David, who turned light red at the people cheering and clapping for him. Suddenly, the barrier fell, and in fell raw emotion.
Juan slipped outside with Sam when people poured out, sighing and swiping a hand over his face. “Okay, what’s going on between you and David?”
Sam felt the hairs at his neck stand up. “You know he’s been a friend of mine since I was real young in Tennessee. I know he’s dependable for this spot—I want him on my congress.”
Juan shrugged. “I’m going back to San Antonio for a little. I need to check in with my family.” Just as he turned, Sam stopped. “Seguín.”
He turned.
“Would you be San Antonio’s Mayor?”
“…” Juan’s expression changed, a little thoughtful. He smiled slightly, adjusting his hat on his head. “I’ll think it over. Get some rest, Sam—and don’t drink yourself to death.” Juan made his way to his horse, swinging his leg over it and quickly making haste westward.
As evening fell onto Austin, Sam had nothing better to do but either go back home to Nacogdoches or drink. Or convince David to come with him home.
Suddenly, an idea hit his mind.
-
David had nearly no money currently, and no money meant nowhere to rent a space to sleep. He’d start with the government soon, but game was little currently, the weather was so hot, the season so dry, so it was hard to keep food on the table too. He packed his saddlebag but as he approached the door, there was a letter at his feet, having been slipped under the door, his name in big cursive staring up at him. He bent down and reached for it, opening the letter.
‘David—
I am hosting a formal at my home in Nacogdoches for the celebration of the Texas government being established.
I hope you are able to come.
I’m waiting for you.
Sam Houston’
David was a little shocked. Sam was being so nice to him—overly nice. Sometimes he felt he didn’t fit in around all of Sam’s friends and cabinet.
He felt like an outsider, the guy from Tennessee. He left the inn, grabbing his horse from the rear of the inn.
And so, with what little money he had left in his pockets, a steady heart of gold, and a steed, David left for Nacogdoches.
-
June 1838
Nacogdoches, Texas
Sam Houston’s Home
Sam was a man of few words, similar to some other men he knew, but he really only spoke when he had something important or thoughtful to say. Or if he was drunk and outright dumb.
He sat at his empty dining table, every seat shoved in and every fine plate and polished glass sitting, waiting to be used.
That was, until there was a knock on his door. He got up, taking his time to walk to the door and being rather surprised to see an out-of-breath David at his door. He smiled, waving the letter in his hand. “Got your message. Decided I don’t wanna leave just yet.” That implied fun.
And Sam liked his fun.
“Come in,” he replied, stepping aside. David admired the sturdy house, the wooden floors cleaned and every surface not even a speck dusty. Houston took his saddlebag from him with no hesitation and easily, their hands brushing for a moment. David followed him as he led him through the large house, to a spare room. As David set his stuff down and Sam handed him his saddlebag, he murmured, “It’s nice to hear your voice more often again,” but by the time David heard him, Sam was well out of sight.
Sam clamped a shaky hand over his mouth as he rounded the corner. He wasn’t any type to be a hopeless romantic. He just…felt emotions deeply. But it felt weird to express them. He bolted for his office, taking out the nearest bottle of bourbon he had. Anything to clear a thoughtful mind. He often thought too much, not about the right things.
“…Sam?” David called, causing Sam to jump and the liquor bottle on his desk to almost fall over before he caught it, clearing his throat and leaning against the table.
“…Um, yes?” He responded, noticing David in the doorway. Only then did he realize how short he looked, but he could also find every wrinkle in his face, his smile lines, where the red appeared and flustered across his cheeks—every little mole and freckle. And his dimples, and those honey brown eyes. He was entirely captivating.
Sam saw David for his most valuable traits—his personality and demeanor, and David saw Sam for his deep insight and thoughts, even his ability to take everything into such detail so precisely. They saw in each other what the other couldn’t see, in easier terms.
David shifted. “…I don’t think this suit is gonna fit me anymore…for the ball.” He stepped further into his office, wearing a plain-colored suit, but tied together with a beautiful silky yellow cravat and a too-tight yellow, flourishing vest, the buttons straining over his torso. Sam rounded the desk and motioned David to come toward, and he did.
Sam leaned down to unbutton his vest and pulled it around him a little tighter, causing David to seethe as he inhaled. “Just bear with me,” He murmured as his fingers fumbled with the buttons. David stood there awkwardly, unable to hide how red in the face he was. “You’re blushing.”
David shook his head. “Bite it.”
Sam let out a genuine chuckle, finishing buttoning his suit again. His hands came down to rest at David’s arms, and he glanced him over. “I might have a smaller one you could borrow.” The two of them stayed there like that for awhile. Sam cleared his throat, and his tone became softer, staring directly into David’s brown eyes—but it was definitely admiration. “…Y’know, I can see how bright your eyes are from here.”
David leaned forward, unknowingly flirting back. “Y’think so?” He purposefully blinked, and Sam leaned in a little too close before David pulled away, taking a step back. Worry settled in Sam’s stomach. “…I’ll be in the guest room, then.” He smiled awkwardly, waking away.
That night, Sam couldn’t sleep. Things felt too unruly in his head. And he was pretty sure he’s had too many drinks and was too awake now, although he was tired. He sat on the davenport in the sitting room, an empty whiskey glass on the nearby wooden table and papers scattered all along it. He held one in his hand, staring at it.
David peeked out from his room, noticing the candlelight still burning from the sitting room. His footsteps padded down the hallway as he turned into the sitting room. “Can’t sleep?”
Sam glanced at the doorway. “..Mmf.” A grunted ‘yes’. David stepped over, and promptly sat next to Sam. Suddenly, he wasn’t able to focus more than he already couldn’t. He shifted and let the paper drift to the floor as he pulled David into his arms—but he let him. David let his head fall back against his chest, sighing. The two soaked in the candlelight, the moonlight seeping in from the windows and a gentle, nearly cold breeze coming from the cracked window. Sam let his hands wander through David’s hair mindlessly, and David felt his own eyes grow heavy. “How are you not tired yet you’re makin’ me fall asleep?” David chucked softly, closing his eyes.
“The magic touch,” Sam replied, and at that moment, it clicked that he wasn’t alone in his newfound romantic discovery. It was wrong. If anyone found them doing something like this, nonetheless two very popular household names, they’d easily lose everything they had, and each other.
“…Sam, d’you think I’m too good to be true?”
Sam glanced at David from behind him. “What d’you mean?”
“As in… am I really just… Davy? Am I just here to hunt and look good? Run everything because everyone thinks I’m this huge, amazing guy. Because I’m not.”
“Who told you that?” Sam chuckled. And the walls came breaking down. “You’re… Well, David Crockett. I’ve never seen anyone with a better mind and thought process than you. You amaze me every time I hear you talk.”
David blinked. “I know you think the same about yourself. And you’re wrong.”
Sam paused his hands in David’s hair. “…”
“Exactly. Now go to sleep.”
Sam decided to be quiet until he thought David had fallen asleep in his arms. But in that moment, it felt everything was exactly how it was supposed to be—everyone was exactly where they needed to be, and his better judgment was in his arms now.
-
The next morning, Sam spent his time cleaning up his papers, a bad hangover once more. As he passed the sitting room, David was still asleep on the davenport.
“Mr. Sam?” A soft voice peeped up, and Sam turned around. It was Joshua, Sam’s servant… and slave. Joshua had the better half of it—he knew how to read and write, which was extremely uncommon. Sam had always had extremely mixed views on slavery. He knew it wasn’t great, but one couldn’t hurt… right?
“If it’s about the man on the davenport, he’s alright. Now, would you mind finding the—”
Joshua handed the man a nice, folded up suit. “Yes.”
Sam accepted it, patting Joshua on the back. “Thanks. A glass of water.”
Joshua sprinted off and Sam turned to the guest room, then putting the suit on David’s bed.
That day, Sam and Joshua spent it cleaning up the house for the ‘ball,’ although it was more of a party. He was going to be getting a bigger house soon—especially as the President, but this was enough for just him and Joshua. David awoke and said good morning to Sam before arriving back at his room, noticing the suit.
Sam had put on his own suit, a red vest and silky white cravat. Red was definitely his color. David stepped out in similar colors to his own suit, but definitely fitting him better. “Do I look alright?” He tugged at his jacket and fixed his cravat, and Sam smiled, nodding. “You look great.”
Sam and David walked through the house to the sitting room again. “I just really hope this goes well. I think everyone deserves a break. And a drink.” He chuckled, glancing at the davenport where woozy memories of last night resided. “…Did you get a good sleep?”
David nodded. “Very well.” He remembered how he felt in Sam’s arms. He felt a little vulnerable. “So… guests are comin’ soon. Need any help setting up?”
Sam shook his head, crossing his arms. “Not really.”
David’s head followed Sam’s. “Are you okay? Somethin’ is botherin’ you.”
“…Just a lot of stuff to get done. Guess I can’t hide it all under fun.”
David squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “But even the most knowledgeable and powerful deserve a break.”
Sam’s hand set atop David’s, and his expression softened. “…I suppose you’re right.” He turned and glanced around. “We don’t have much longer. I’ll go get Joshua and a bottle for us.”
-
By that evening, the house was full. Men and their wives or fiancées piled the rooms, laughs filling the air and music as well. David wished he would’ve brought his fiddle. He stood to himself, although men and women alike would come up to him to ask him about what he’d be doing in Congress and ‘oh that’s very nice’ and if he thought the next hunting season would be good or not. It was never actually anything he wanted to talk about. He zoned out as people talked to him, becoming restless once more.
‘Davy’ this, ‘Davy’ that. He felt anxiety rise in his stomach, and the glass he was clenching in his hand slipped to the floor, shattering, everyone quieting. He locked eyes with Sam in the distance, speaking to someone.
He pivoted and ran for the dining room, a crowd of murmurs.
“…W-Wait. Wait!” Sam’s voice was much less clear now, wavering as he shoved through the crowd of people in lacy, flourishing silky ball gowns and men in pressed suits and fine wool. His ears rung as he ran, following where he’d seen David run off to. The noises faded away as he skid to a stop on the wooden floors, finding David in the abandoned dining room, grabbing his coat.
His eyes nearly looked glossy. “This was a mistake. I-… I should go.” His voice was strong, unlike Sam, rushing to gather his stuff. “I know you think I’m some great guy, and I’m not. There is, I don’t know how you are so good at what you do.”
The confession quieted David, but Sam wrapped around the dining table, a shaky hand grasping David by the wrist and tugging him flush against Sam’s bulkier body, causing David to drop his items and Sam leaned down to bend David back into a kiss. David let out a surprised squeak at his doing, before his arms absent-mindedly slithered around Sam’s shoulders, his neck craning backwards to get the most of the kiss. One of Sam’s thicker hands moved from David’s waist to the nape of his neck, the almost reddish-brown hair that just came past chin-length beginning to gray.
It was unlike anything either of them had felt before. It wasn’t normal—sacred, you could say. But now? It felt like they were both exactly where they needed to be. There was no more loneliness.
Sam broke the heavy air, panting only for a moment, David frozen and blinking wide-eyed at Sam. He ran a hand through his hair before standing up properly and taking David’s annunciated jawline into both of his tanned hands. “No more hiding. Or lying. I’ll always be here, okay? You…” He let out a shaky breath. “You mean a lot to me. David, I don’t like being…” Vulnerable was too hard to say. “…I just want to… Be honest. I-… You’ve made me think of things in a perspective I haven’t before. I don’t even really want to keep going with this explanation because I’d rather be—… y’know.”
“…If you wanted to, you should’ve just said it.” David replied quietly, allowing Sam to press a bunch of tiny kisses all over his face and trailing down to his neck. David kept both arms around Sam, his head pressed into his shoulder and neck. “We shouldn’t—” “Hush.” Sam continued pressing little kisses all over his face, and David broke away.
“You can’t keep just… doing this stuff. I need to know. Just tell me what you’re thinking, Sam.” David replied, his tone a little more demanding.
“Look, I know half the time it’s god knows when I see you, but I actually enjoy being around you, alright?!” Sam’s voice raised, and David jumped slightly. Guilt quickly settled in his stomach. “…Wait.” Sam cleared his throat. “…I don’t mean to lose my temper. I just… I don’t know how to feel when I’m around you. I don’t know what I am, but I enjoy it more than… this.” He admitted quietly. “You add a side to me I’ve not seen in so long.”
David broke into a smile, shuffling a step forwards to take Sam’s hands. “Wanna know somethin’ special?”
“Mmhm.”
David embraced him, and Sam bent down to meet him slightly, his large hands wrapping around his waist and inhaling his pine and whiskey scent.
“You make me feel the same way.”