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He was aloof to the warm weather, so Dirac told Oppenheimer when he was invited to Perro Caliente for a week. Dirac, who wore collared shirts in Göttingen and jumpers in Maytime California was ready for it all. In his own unique way.
“Pack like you’re going to the Australian outback,” Robert had warned.
“But it’s winter in Australia!” Paul wanted to complain.
But nothing would quite prepare him for the air that would hit him after he stepped off the plane. Or lack thereof, he supposed. Reaching out for Robert’s shoulder as his hand was gently pushed off with a sad look from Oppenheimer, Dirac faced the other direction, trying to find shade.
As soon as they had privacy, Dirac pulled Oppenheimer into a corner. Oppenheimer grasped Dirac’s hand steadily, feeling Dirac’s sweaty palm envelope his. It was sticky but Robert kept hold. Dirac looked into Oppenheimer’s eyes, anxious and uncertain. The sun, garish and harsh as it was, illuminated his eyes like the stars. They were like ice - the cool and refreshing antidote for the weather that was currently beating down on him. His eyes were like the depths of Neptune and Dirac was the rings spinning around - following him, staying with him, always.
“Robert, I’m rather hot,”
Oppenheimer bit through a smile.
“Never thought I’d see the day,”
Dirac looked confused.
“Look, we can drive to Perro Caliente then we’ll try and cool you off, huh? The car might be hot but we can keep the windows open. When we get to the ranch, I got some fans just for you,” Oppenheimer offered. Dirac could only nod, reaching deep in his bag for a bottle of sunscreen and a paper fan which he didn’t think he would need so soon. He couldn’t help but feel so disgustingly sticky and sick.
Oppenheimer handed him a wide brimmed hat before putting on his own. Dirac looked at it in confusion.
“For you. To stop the sun getting to you,”
Dirac’s look turned to disgust.
“My dear,” Oppenheimer smiled, gently and Dirac was whipped.
Dirac sighed, taking the hat and putting it on.
“You look lovely,” Oppenheimer whispered, and Dirac touched Oppenheimer’s shoulder.
“Soon, Paul. Not long now until we can relax,” Robert smiled.
But Dirac wasn’t sure if he could ever relax in this heat. He was almost in pain, everything was becoming too much. But Robert, sweet Robert, noticed, he always did. Dirac wished he knew how he could pick up on Oppenheimer’s feelings the way that Oppenheimer did for him.
“I’ll buy you a pack of ice to lie on on the drive there,” Robert said gently. Perhaps to him, it was just common sense. For Dirac, it was a gesture he would remember well into his dying days.
~~~~~
“Under that tree was where I read Tennyson to Frank for about three hours. We didn’t notice until the sun was setting and Frank’s horse started acting up. I could have stayed there all night,”
Dirac could listen to Robert’s anecdotes for eternity. His reserved yet eloquent tone and his ability to keep stories fresh and exciting quieted his attention span.
He fell asleep in the car, a large ice bag planted on the side of his face like a pillow. He woke up to a gentle kiss on the cheek and Robert rubbing his forehead, whispering sweet nothings to help him wake.
He could have stayed there forever but alas, the horses needed feeding. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been woken up so gently.
And that’s how they were there; under a forested canopy eating sandwiches as Oppenheimer was telling Dirac stories of his earlier life and Dirac was basking, lying on Oppenheimer’s lap. He kept the hat on; he said it was because it was keeping the sun out but really it made no difference. However, he did get noticeably warmer when Oppenheimer mentioned how attractive it made him look. Admittedly, he didn’t see how. He still struggled to shake off the feeling that Robert was just with him as a joke; he still struggled believing the fact that Robert was really sincere. But, he would follow Oppenheimer to the ends of the Earth to see him happy. Perhaps the ends of the Earth would be more preferable than New Mexico in June, Dirac thought, but any time with Oppenheimer was time well spent.
Robert took a sip from a metal flask and offered a sip to Dirac. He didn’t realise how thirsty he was until he was profusely apologising to Oppenheimer for drinking the whole thing. He didn’t mean to - he had to get better at knowing when he was thirsty.
“Shh. It’s okay now, darling. We’re not far away from the ranch now, we can head back now. It’s cooling down - it shouldn’t be too hot. I have a nice selection of books back at the ranch. You can pick one out and have a nice rest,”
Dirac breathed a sigh of relief - mounting the dappled pinto that Oppenheimer had so generously offered his time to teach him to ride in the weeks leading up to their trip. Dirac was unsure. So unsure. But was determined to learn because he knew how much horses meant to Oppenheimer.
Suddenly feeling a fuzzy surge of love all over, Dirac kissed Oppenheimer on the cheek as he stood to mount his horse.
“Pretty good for someone who just learned all this last week,” Robert chuckled, but Dirac didn’t think that there was a drop of malice in his words.
He was quite a brute but Oppenheimer had reassured Dirac that he was a gentle, trustworthy horse. The horse had not ridden anyone besides Frank but quickly adjusted to Dirac’s quiet, gentle demeanour.
“See? Everyone loves you,” Oppenheimer smiled, encouragingly. Dirac knew that wasn’t entirely true but soaked in the praise nonetheless.
Oppenheimer was a better judge of character than Paul ever was. He trusted Robert with everything he had.
~~~~~
Dirac’s foot ached. He didn’t mean to ruin the moment. Oppenheimer was so impressed with his riding skills and then he just fell onto the sand. He was hot. He knew the sand was going to leak into his boots at any second and then he would have to ride - no walk - back, with an aching foot and boots filled with sand. The horse had darted back to the ranch. Paul didn’t mean to scare him. He scared everyone, it seemed. He wished he knew why. He thought back to his year 6 maths class when-
He felt gentle arms lift him off the ground, sit on the ground cross legged with Paul in his lap so he wasn’t touching the sand.
He didn’t realise his eyes were closed until he opened them up and was nearly blinded.
“It’s okay, Paul, dear. Nothing to be scared of. This was a hard trek for your first proper ride and I’d say you did better than most,”
Dirac could do nothing but keep his eyes closed. Robert tilted his face to the side where there was less sun.
“Open your eyes now, doll,” He said, his accent thickening. Perhaps this place reminded Robert of home, Dirac thought, and that’s what caused the slip. Dirac suddenly felt pressured to come up with a special name for Robert - he didn’t want to sound shallow when communicating.
Dirac opened his eyes as he felt a hand stroke through his hair. Oppenheimer almost gasped - Paul’s eyes were so beautiful in the light. Honey accords dashed across his eyes like shooting stars, mixing with his dark brown pupils like melted chocolate which were alight under the gaze of the sun. To Robert, Dirac was so wonderfully alive, so intrinsically real, so deeply human that he could not quite comprehend his luck.
“Is that foot of yours okay?” Oppenheimer asked, the concern dripping from his voice was like medicine to the sick.
“All good,” Dirac murmured, clambering out on his feet and dusting off sand from his jacket. He trenbled when his hands touched the rough sand but he endured.
“I assume that I walk from here?”
“Oh, Paul, nonsense,” Oppenheimer said, and Dirac blushed. He had noticed the way that Oppenheimer had started to address him on a first name basis. He didn’t mind but it was something to get used to.
Robert once again scooped Dirac up bridal style and put him on the back of his horse.
“I’m sorry I can’t look at your foot right now. I’ll fix it up when we get back, then we can have a nice rest. I would give you my boots so you don’t fee the sand but I don’t want to hurt you more,”
Oppenheimer commanded his horse to go. It was still too hot for Dirac’s liking.
The sun had started its slow descent into the horizon. The sky was turning into a tender, petal pink that reminded Robert of the inside of a desert flower. He was so happy to be home, he thought. He was so happy Dirac had agreed to keep him company, he knew that Dirac would probably rather be anywhere else but still, he went. Robert thought he saw a deer darting into a thicket out of the corner of his eye and as his horse rode past another congregation of trees, a redwing soared above the clouds and into the distance.
“I helped a redwing once. Just a chick but it had lost it’s mother. Thankfully I helped relocate her,”
It was then that Robert realised that Dirac was, once again, fast asleep. He rode slower, as not to wake him. Hot weather must make him sleepy, he assumed.
~~~~~
“Hey, Paul. We’re at the ranch. You want to wake up now? I can make us drinks. I know you’re not that fussed but I found some food you told me you liked a few months ago if you’re hungry,”
The sky was now a blooded crimson, the sun was dipping and the heat was finally wearing off.
Robert carried Dirac into the small building where they would be staying for the next week.
Paul’s foot wasn’t bad, thankfully, but both he and Oppenheimer decided that it would be better if they rode together for the time being. It was a good thing that Robert had bought spare ice bags as he could now use one on Diac’s foot. He made sure it was in the right position then they curled up together. Paul was kissed like he hung the stars - he didn’t know what he did to make Robert love him so. Dirac was tired but Oppenheimer read him some Baudelaire in the original French.They were too tired for drinks - that could wait. Dirac needed to read more by himself when he was feeling better, he realised. Due to his foot still hurting, they couldn’t go outside like they originally planned but they watched a shooting star from outside the window.
“Such a clear night,” Dirac remarked. Robert just nodded, he was staring at Paul with all the love in the world. Paul’s hair was gently brushed through, his body finally able to go limp and his eyes able to shut.
“Goosnight, sweet,” Robert whispered to Dirac. They had relocated to the bedroom now, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Dirac was in Oppenheimer’s clothes, the pyjamas he packed weren’t fit for the heat. Robert kissed Paul tenderly once again.
“I love you,” Oppenheimer added.
He knew that Dirac was often scared to say it back. When he didn’t, Robert was never angry. Dirac knew he should be. But tonight:
“Goodnight, morningstar. Love you too,” Dirac kissed Robert back, a tender forehead kiss that made Oppenheimer melt.
Once he had finally processed the nickname, Paul was fast asleep, clinging onto Robert like he hung the stars. But he didn’t just hang tbe stars - he was the stars.