Archive of Our Own

The moon was high over the ranch of Beecher’s Hope, its rays shining down upon the farmland as the silence of night took over it. All the animals laid close in their pens, falling into a slumber after a long day of grazing. The windmill slowly turned, its metal blades and aging gears softly rattling from the gentle summer night gales. And there, within the comfort of his home and a belly full of hot stew, sat John Marston just by the fireplace.

It had been a long and arduous day there at Beecher’s Hope, filled with work, stress, and hard earned labor. From shooing off wards of crows from the fresh summer crops, to fixing up the rotted wood on the perimeter fencing, to badgering a certain lazy Uncle to stop sleeping in the damn cow pens and get to it. It was a nonstop day of grueling work, but necessary work nonetheless.

By the time the sun had begun to set, John was ready to rest, looking forward to the moment when he’d get to relax and enjoy his family. And once he had finished the last nail on the set of fencing, he headed right on in and did his evening routine.

The warmth of the flames emanated out into the room, the popping of the blackened log burning within, filling his ears as he leaned back comfortably in his chair. He stretched his legs out with a grunt, his muscles loosening and shoulders popping as he settled in, ready to relax up until bedtime.

As he tilted his head back, picking and pulling off his dirty leather gloves with the tips of his fingers, he could hear Abigail cleaning up the leftover dishes from supper. The subtle squeak of the faucet, the idle step of her shoes on the creaking boards, and the clatter of dishes.

The boy on the other hand had retired to his own room, probably to go off and read one of those weird stories he always fancied. And Uncle, well… Truth be told, he had no clue where the old coot had wandered off to. But at that moment, he didn’t quite care, just as long as the louse was there to help during the day.

A sigh rumbled through John at that moment as he pulled his hands free from the gloves, eyes lowering down to the subtle scars that littered his fingers. Scars that were as old as time itself to him, from days long passed and incidents he’d wish he could forget.

Living this rancher's life was still… odd, to John, even after two whole years of living there with honest work. Leaving everything all behind for this peaceful living sort of life felt new even now, trying to be straight and narrow.

It made his chest tighten up sometimes, thinking of those memories, seeing the scars on his hands. He’d never talk about it of course, not with Abigail, not with Uncle, and especially not with Jack, so he’d always push it down in the recesses of his mind.

But… Now with the sudden changes that had been going on around there, it’d been hard not to think about it, not with Ja–

“John, it' s startin’ to get late.” Abigail suddenly called out to him as she came out from the kitchen, her voice gentle yet pointed as she loosened the strings of her apron.

It immediately pulled him from his thoughts, his back straightening and posture correcting as he came to. But as she said that, his brows furrowed on tight, his forehead creasing with confusion as he turned his attention to her.

“So? I already done finished everything today, what else could there be?” John asked with a pointed arch of his brow, only for Abigail to sigh as she pulled herself free of the apron, tossing it aside. Suddenly, with a turn of her heel, she disappeared back on into the kitchen, the sound of her shoes faintly stomping against the wood. 

What the hell did he forget?

As quickly as she left, she came back out of the kitchen door with a bowl in hand, his eyes narrowing at the sight of it. Her eyes were steeled, her softened face now hardened as she approached him.

“Oh I don't know, John, maybe someone on our ranch we forgot to goddamn feed.” Abigail huffed as she all but shoved the bowl towards him, the stew sloshing around as she pointed out towards the back of the house for emphasis.

The back of the house where… He was staying.

Immediately, the scrunch of confusion that had taken over John’s features melted into a hardened understanding as he realized what she had meant, the someone that they had forgotten to feed. An annoyed huff slipped from his nostrils, his fingers flexing against the chair arms as all the relaxation within his body disappeared like a blown out candle.

“Ain’t we decided that was Uncle’s job, not mine?” John asked with a pointed look at his wife, his voice low yet sharp, like a hidden knife. But he knew better than to try and ask that, because almost immediately Abigail’s eyes rolled, her lips pulling tight as she placed a hand on her hip.

“Well Uncle ain’t here right now, he’s off in town doin’... Whatever the hell Uncle does, probably drinkin’ like the useless lush he is!” Abigail exclaimed with a jut of her hip and shrug of her shoulders, her brows becoming just as furrowed as John’s at the notion.

And she was right, he hadn’t seen the old coot since dinner, nor heard him go upstairs. The realization made John click his tongue, a forced sigh slipping from his nostrils as he slumped back into his chair.

“Oh of course he’s not here, almost convenient ain’t it?” He spat out facetiously, reaching up and running a hand through his thin dark locks of greasy hair in hopes it’d calm down his quickening pulse.

A gentle sigh slipped from Abigail at that, the creases between her brows and frown lines beside her lips softening as she looked down at him. “Look, after the work he’s done around the ranch today, he deserves somethin’ at least… Don’tcha think?” She asked softly with a tilt of her head and raise of her brow, glancing between John and the backdoor.

“Yeah… A goddamn pistol whip to the skull and a drag behind the horses.” John muttered under his breath as he turned his gaze downwards, hoping she wouldn’t hear. But of course, he always underestimated how sharp Abigail’s hearing was as she let out a scoff, rolling her eyes dramatically at him.

“Oh like that’s gonna help ‘im heal, John!” Abigail exclaimed shrilly as she threw her hand up into the air, the bowl of stew sloshing around in the other from the motion. A shrillness that finally sent him over the edge.

“Well if it were my goddamn choice, I wouldn’t have him stayin’ here Abigail! Not after what he and Dutch, Bill, and that dirty bastard Micah did to Arthur, to us!” John suddenly exclaimed, his voice growing louder with each word as he forced himself to stand from the chair.

As he did so, Abigail’s brow and frown lines tightened again as she stepped back, watching her husband get right up in her face. “Well that don’t matter right now! We have responsibilities John, even if that responsibility is to feed some ol’ wounded man in our shed!” She yelled back almost as loudly, her voice straining as she pointed towards the back of the house again.

“Oh yeah? And what if I want the bastard to starve?” John sneered back, making himself seem bigger as he stood over Abigail, something he knew not to do as she got right up in his face.

“Then you’re gonna be sleepin’ outside on the porch and dealin’ with Uncle when he gets back, drunk as a skunk!” Abigail finally spat out right as she took her hand and sharply poked him in the chest, making John stumble back.

“You serious?” John challenged her with a throw of his hands, staring at her wild blue eyes as she sneered up towards him, his chest heaving as he tried to keep calm.

“Dead serious.” Abigail said just inches away from his face, her expression hardened and gaze as cold as winter steel. “Now you take the bowl, or it's out to the porch with ya, understand?” She practically ordered, arching a brow as she held the bowl up to John one last time.

The blood running through John’s veins felt hot as can be as he watched his wife at that moment, half his brain wanting him to scream back and argue. But the other half, well, he knew what it was like to sleep alone on the porch, and even though he didn’t want to take the bowl… He knew he had no damn choice.

So, John merely tightened his jaw, his bare fingers curling into fists as he huffed out a sharp “...fine,” before taking the bowl from her hands. And without another word or spared glance, John passed around her, feeling her eyes watching him as he stepped idly across the floor, through the dining room, out the door, onto the porch, and into the night.

Immediately, John’s skin was hit with the cool night air of Beecher’s Hope as he closed the door firmly, careful not to slam it behind himself. Every muscle in his face felt tight, his lips pulled into a tight grimace as he tried to keep calm. But it was hard not to want to throw that damned bowl to the ground as he looked over towards the lone storage room not even ten feet away, knowing who he’d have to face within.

The doors to it were closed shut, the wooden barricade that they often used to keep it closed propped just beside them in the dirt. Through the little cracks he could see the faint golden color of lantern-light filtering through, growing brighter and dimmer as it seemingly flickered–a sign that he was still awake.

With a sigh, John adjusted his shoulders and swiftly headed down the porch, the slightly aged wood creaking beneath his work boots. The bowl of stew sloshed to and fro, threatening to spill over with every step, but John kept a good hold on it. He wasn’t in the mood to make a mess, even though the boy’s dog would likely be the one to clean it up before the crows or coyotes.

John kicked the dirt up from under his boots with how hard he dragged his feet and moved idly, walking so slow as if he were stalling. Once he was at the door though, he came to an abrupt stop, a cloud of dust passing by his ankles. All he could hear in that moment was the sound of blood rushing through his ears.

John stared at the doors for what felt like forever, trying to gauge how he should even go into the storage room, how the man within would even react. He had made such an effort these past few days to keep a distance from him, constantly avoiding his mere existence by occupying himself with the most banal of chores. He ignored him just like he tried to ignore the memories of the gang.

But now, all because of Uncle’s uselessness and his insistence that Abigail would not help him, it was all on John to go in there and feed him… because of course it would fall on him. The one that was swayed to let him stay, because of that soft part of his heart. The one that he should’ve never shown to anyone else.

With a careful puff of air from his nostrils, John reached down to the metal handle and pulled it with a loud reverberating creak, swinging the door wide. Once it was all the way open and his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he took a step forward, standing within the doorway, tall and true. And there, as he noticed the figure hunched over in the corner, watching him with the dark eyes of a trained fighter and killer, he came face to face with him…

Javier Escuella.

The first thing John noticed was the scar on the man's left cheek, one of the only other familiar parts about the man who had changed so much. His skin was tanner and more scarred, with signs of age and weathering already spreading upon it despite only being in his mid thirties. A weathering that even showed up in the man's eyes as he examined John from his little spot, the signs of youth and passion long gone, replaced with emptiness and caution.

The once finer threads that he used to wear were nowhere to be seen, replaced with just a simple off-white button up, black trousers, and a heavy belt. A belt that, after he had arrived, had been all but stripped of the pouches and pockets and weaponry, hidden away in case he tried to do anything tricksy. But somehow, despite being searched high and low, the man held onto a small ornate lighter, his thumb flicking the cap open with a metallic ‘click’ again and again.

He noticed the makeshift bedroll too, one that the man had set up within the few days he was here–Charles’s idea, of course. It was made up of a variety of spare blankets and pillows they had, mostly ones they used for the backs of horses or for when the cows would give birth to calves in the winter. But the one he was sitting atop, posed languidly, oddly reminded John of the poncho he used to wear back in the old days.

All around it were a variety of items–some that looked familiar, others unfamiliar. Folded up papers and pictures, clothes hanging from hooks and against boxes that were piled nearby. The sombrero he had donned when arriving there, free of any signs of his own blood. A bottle of gun oil and a bottle of oleander, the same he used to use for his knives. And a small lantern sat on one of the boxes, flickering to and fro as the midsummer wind filtered through the doorway.

“Ah, the man of the hour… Showing up lookin’ like a sight for sore eyes. Was wonderin’ when I’d finally get something to eat.” The man suddenly mused from down below, catching John’s attention as he flicked the lighter closed.

The taller man’s eyes rose back up to his face, watching Javier’s body shift as he set aside the lighter on his blankets and pillows. His hair was much shorter than before, the dark strands falling loosely against his cheeks and his scar as he turned back to face John, looking at him with those damned eyes.

It took a moment for John to register what he said before clearing his throat, taking a step towards him. “Yeah well… You’re lucky you’re even remembered. Here.” John muttered lowly as he set the bowl and spoon down on the wooden floor just a few feet in front of Javier, not wanting to get too close. He even used the tip of his boot to scoot it over, careful not to get it caught on one of the floorboards.

“Oh thank you, el mozo!” Javier said with a sardonic tilt to his tone as he reached out to grab it. For a moment, John swore he saw the other's finger brush against the boot tip. But as he blinked with an odd curl forming in the pits of his stomach, the other was leaning back into his corner.

John took a breath, sighing as he stood there from the doorway, watching as Javier settled back into his spot. He could see the hungry look in the man’s dark eyes as he lifted the bowl up to his nose, inhaling the scents of the relatively hot meal that Abigail had spent cooking all afternoon.

“Mmm, stew… Better than the shit the army gave me when I was fighting over in Mexico.” Javier mused aloud as he lifted the spoon to his lips, taking a careful bite from it. He chewed slowly and contemplatively with a tilted head, pursing his lips before shrugging and swallowing with a bob of his Adam’s apple. “But… Not nearly as good as what Pearson used to feed us, hm?”

“Hm…” John crossed his arms as he kept his eyes half-locked on Javier, and the other half focused on the floor, trying to ignore him and any thoughts about the old days. But it was hard not to as the man shifted around, leaning his back against the wall as he continued to eat from the bowl.

“You ever think about Pearson? Hmph… Bet he wouldn’t’ve expected you to become a farmer or me to become one of your hands, eh?” Javier asked with a low voice, his words calm yet calculated, almost jabbing even as he brought up their old friend.

“…Prolly not.” John grumbled back uncommittedly, standing as still as a board as the other hummed oddly. He lifted the spoon to his lips, blowing at it a few times before indulging again.

“Definitely wouldn’t’ve expected you of all people to pull your head out of your ass.” Javier muttered just loud enough for John to hear him between each chew, his words almost taunting, unchanged from those last few months years ago. Enough so that it started to make John’s chest tighten, his fingers curling tight against his biceps as he looked Javier directly.

“…You ever shut that mouth of yours, Escuella?” John asked brusquely, the words slipping out through gritted teeth as he could already feel his patience running thin. Javier didn’t seem to react much though as he tilted his gaze up from the bowl, finally looking John back in the eyes.

“Not usually… Why? Did you wanna do it for me?” Javier replied back bluntly, his words holding an unspoken challenge, his eyes intense as they locked with John’s. A part of John in that moment felt a sense of discomforting anger that threatened to billow up inside him, but the other… Felt familiarity, one that quickly shut down all his attempts to get mad as his heart thrummed in his throat.

“…Thought the damn food would do it for me.” He grumbled out with an awkward cough, averting his eyes as he leaned back against the archway. But he could still feel Javier's eyes watching him, practically burning into his skin like a cattle prodder, until he heard it.

A little snicker.

“Alright, alright…” Javier muttered, his voice still low, yet almost sounding… Softer at that moment. And quickly, the idle chatter and taunting words he threw at John came to a swift end, leaving John gaze to wander back and watch the other as he continued to feast upon his dinner.

The two of them sat there in silence–a long, painful silence–with the only sound being the faint chewing emitted from Javier and the creaking of the storage structure around them. As much as John wanted to relax though, he couldn’t help but stay tense and attentive, watching Javier closely as he spooned at the bowl slowly but surely.

Just his mere presence made John feel uneasy. Never in a million years would he have ever expected to have Javier Escuella at his door, not after what happened during the robbery of that train where he was left for dead or the subsequent shootout that claimed the lives of so many of his friends. The fact he dared to even show up made John feel conflicted, with part of him wanting to go over and kick him in the wound hidden under that shirt, but the other part well…

He didn’t really know how to describe it, not yet anyway.

So, he kept his lips sealed and hands to himself while Javier ate through his meal, back arched over and head low as he nearly came to the bottom of the bowl. But as the tense silence continued on, so thick that you could cut a knife through it, Javier made a grunt. And following that grunt, the tinking of his spoon against his bowl as his chapped lips parted.

“You know… This lighting…” Javier began, his words meandering and calculated as John’s gaze darted from the dimly lit lighting to his face. But when they landed there, Javier was looking straight at him again with those damn eyes, his irises faintly shifting as he looked towards John intently. “Reminds me of the night we went out with the others, in Valentine.”

John’s nose scrunched at the notion–the mere mention of that town from so long ago, this supposed memory he decided to bring up now of all times. It caused him to feel that indescribable feeling in his chest, his lungs feeling like they were seized of oxygen at the smaller man's words, his mind drawing to a blank as his lips parted.

“…What night is that?” John barely let out the words from his lips, eyes narrowing as his relaxed and intimidating visage faltered. And it only continued to falter as Javier’s lips pulled back and slowly curled into a smile, not the fake one he liked to mask himself, no…

That smile, the one John had only seen but a few times in his life.

“Oh… I know you remember, John… You’re not as stupid as you look.” Javier said bemusedly, visibly looking the other man up and down, making all the hairs on his neck stand on end. And that’s when it started to hit him.

As he focused on the man's words, that feeling hitting its peak, he knew exactly what Javier had been talking about–a memory long forgotten. Yet one that felt so fresh and new as it became unearthed from the back of his mind and out into the open air of his thoughts.

The night at the saloon down in Valentine.

*   *   *   *   *

It had been about a week since some of the others rescued Sean from down near Blackwater, and subsequently the giant party that had happened back at Horseshoe Overlook. The gang though wasn’t done with their fair share of celebration and–despite John not wanting to go at first due to all the risks of Pinkertons, the law, and bounty hunters–he ended up at the saloon with several of the other members in Valentine.

It hadn’t been the first time John had left the camp since he had returned a few months ago, quite far from it. But it was certainly the first time he had been allowed to tag along in one of these outings, given that everyone practically wanted to skin his head for leaving behind Abigail and Jack. Especially Arthur, who much to his surprise, wanted him to tow along. So he left, following on behind the others despite the forlorn and scathing looks he got from Abigail and Hosea, and rode out to Valentine.

Night had fallen by the time they had arrived in the little podunk town, with the sprawling, warmly lit interior of the saloon filled already with a variety of patrons. Some were locals, happily chattering amongst each other, talking about news that passed through. Others were passersbys, sitting either on their own or joining in on the larger conversation that echoed throughout the wooden walls.

Music filled the entire room as well, with folks dancing and prancing about the floor, the man at the old honky-tonk piano playing a jaunty little tune. At the bar, Arthur, Lenny, Uncle, and Sean sat on by, cheering glasses and bottles of beers, spilling tall tales just like the whiskey that dribbled to the floorboards. Their faces were flushed with drunkenness, with Arthur and Uncle even loudly singing along to the music as Lenny and Sean laughed at them.

In another part of the saloon, the trio of girls–Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen–were gabbing along with some of the men there, lifting their skirts and twirling with them jauntily. Some of the girls of course had their own little plans, with their fingers ready to slip into pockets whenever the time seemed fit. Others though were simply there to escape away from the camp, laughing and smiling from ear to ear as they continued on dancing.

And far off from the celebration, smack dab in a table by the stairs, sitting by his lonesome and warm with a fresh buzz, was John Marston himself. Watching, listening, feeling far too distant and equally far too comfortable to get up and join as he tipped back his glass, parting his lips to sip at the last droplets of his whiskey.

The liquid left a satisfying burn down his throat, one that left him sighing with relief as the buzz began to grow, numbing the pain that still ebbed on his cheek. Between the mess that happened on the boat at Blackwater and the recovery from his wounds up on the mountain, he’d been needing some downtime away from the camp. Away from his problems… Away from Abigail and the boy.

As he lowered the glass down though, ready to slump back in his chair and accept he had no more to drink, the chair just across from him screeched softly against the wooden boards below. His eyes fluttered open, blinking away the blur of drunkenness, as his eyes came upon his old… friend, and savior, Javier Escuella, equipped with a bottle of whiskey. Before he could even greet the man though, he had popped open the cork and started pouring it into John's glass and without even so much as a look at him.

“Ah, thanks…” John murmured out as he sat up, watching the dark liquid flow from the bottle and fill his glass nearly to the brim.

“Yeah, yeah.” Javier mused with a casual shrug, acting all nonchalant and calm as ever. Once John’s full, the shorter man slipped the bottle away and started filling up his own until it was brimming too. And with a sigh, he set the whiskey aside, took his own glass, and lifted it up to his lips to take a sip.

A terse silence fell between the two of them, with John watching Javier over the edge of his glass as he drank from the freshly poured whiskey. He barely even recoiled from the burn, his sharp eyes crinkling from a moment, before setting it down with a satisfied smack of his lips. But instead of conversation, John was merely met with silence once more as the man lounged back with him, resting his arm around the back of his seat.

It had been a few odd days since John had spent any time with Javier alone, not since the celebration last week. But despite not having spent much time with him, John couldn’t help but watch the man from the corner of his eyes, wondering why he’d been so oddly quiet lately despite being the one to help save Sean. So, he cleared his throat, catching Javier’s attention from where he was looking down at the table and back towards John.

“…So?” John began with a flex of his fingers as his voice rang out into the air, making the man’s eyes narrow with visible confusion.

“So, what?” Javier questioned coolly with an arch of his brow, tilting his head as John looked at him intently. The taller man shifted, raising a mirrored brow back as he tapped at his whiskey glass.

“How was it?” John tried to lightly press, trying to get Javier to pick up on what he meant. But of course, the man still acted aloof as he looked at him, the skin under his sharp eyes crinkling softly.

“What? Y’mean the whole rescue mission?” Javier asked with a light snicker, his fingers tapping against the wood on the back of his chair as he finally brought it up. But again, he still acted uncharacteristically aloof, making John want to roll his eyes, but he held back and continued.

“Yeah. I mean, I ain’t one to be worryin’ about Javier Escuella but, y’know, was it just easy?” John asked as he slumped forward, borderline whispering the words as his eyes narrowed over at him. He hadn’t been allowed to get a piece of the action, so all he knew was what he could hear from the others and the man himself.

Rather than acting all serious though, instead, a smile bloomed over Javier’s lips, curling upwards on his chapped lips before he leaned his head back and took a shot. He downed the whiskey as quickly as he poured it, gulping it down before pulling his lips from the glass with a satisfied sigh. “Easy.” Javier said proudly as he looked back at John, setting the glass back down onto the table with a glassy ‘clank’.

But it didn’t leave John satisfied one bit, a huff slipping from his nostrils. “Tch… You sure are short with your words today…” John muttered slyly as he leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at Javier suspiciously. The shorter man gave back a similar look, his smile falling as he examined John.

“There’s just not much to say–” He attempted to try and insist, but John could only roll his eyes, shaking his head as he leaned back over the table, interrupting the shorter man.

“You ain’t even gonna try to brag about it? Been a whole week since then and haven’t even heard a peep out’ve you.” John spat out, yet there was no malice within his words as he questioned the man incessantly, finally bringing up what had been bugging him all week.

The only thing he had seen Javier do that night was sing his heart out and get drunk as a skunk. But the bragging? The ego? The pride that Javier always wore like the ascot on his chest? It was nowhere to be found, replaced with a silence that left John feeling… odd.

Just like the feeling he got during that night when he was alone and rejected by Abigail, similarly drunk as a skunk, forced to stay behind instead of celebrating their friend's return. But Javier of all people sat with him that night, just like now, quiet, pondering, watching him from across the tables with a look that made John feel… different.

Different like when Javier saved him on the mountain. When the man helped Arthur carry him back to the cabins, back to Abigail and Jack. And now while they spoke here and then.

“Not that kinda guy, John.” Javier suddenly said, catching John’s gaze as those words were barely said above a whisper. And as he said that, the difference still permeated even after his question as Javier looked at him with those deep brown eyes, the hardened mask and bravado he always wore across his expression nowhere to be seen.

It was odd how serious yet calm he looked, almost… soft even as he gazed as John, shifting himself to where his entire attention was pointed at him. It made John’s stomach curl oddly and feel warm, the same warmth he always got when taking shots of whiskey. His fingers ghosted over his shot glass as he awkwardly cleared his throat, maintaining that eye contact with the shorter man as his lips parted.

“Huh… That so?” John mused as he watched Javier, tapping his chipped nails against the glass. He watched that gaze soften, lowering down for a moment, before raising back up to look John in the eyes as he nodded.

“It is.” Javier assured warmly, the edges of his lips twitching but not quite lifting as he took a hold of the bottle of whiskey, sliding his hand down the neck of it and into his grasp.

“Then… What kinda guy are you?” John asked curiously, his eyes watching the way Javier’s fingers glided across the thinned neck of the bottle before lifting and tipping it towards his shot glass.

“Mmm…” Javier hummed out in thought, his lips pursing as he filled the glass all the way to the brim again, stopping with a shrug of his shoulders. “The kind that just wants to get you drunk.” He decided matter-of-factly, placing the bottle back down with a little playful curl of his lips.

At first, a little snort slipped from John’s throat and nostrils, making his shoulders heave as he tried to hold it back. But as the other’s odd little words played on his head like one of Dutch’s old records, he started to break, snickering right under his breath. And within moments, he began to laugh out into the air, his face flushing red from the alcohol as Javier smirked proudly at him, the amused sound filling the air like the music from the band.

As he kept on laughing though, wiping at the tears that gathered at the corner of his eyes, Javier took the shot glass from his side and slid it right on over to him. It made him stop in his own little whirl of amusement, his brows raising and lips pulling into a confused frown as Javier nabbed his glass–which by no means was empty–and took it over to his part of the table.

“‘Ey, that ain’t yours…” John grumbled out, his nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing as Javier picked the glass up, looking at it admiringly for but a moment, before turning to John with that smirk.

“You’re right John… It’s not.” Javier said with a lilt of his head, and as quick as he nabbed the thing, he tipped the glass back and took the shot.

As the golden whiskey quickly drained between his lips, he maintained eye contact with John, his throat bobbing as he drank it down. And with a satisfied sigh, he placed it calmly back down onto the table without looking away, his tongue lapping at the last droplets that remained against his lips. A tongue that John couldn’t help but stare at as it ran slowly across the tanned skin, his whole body stuck as still as a bur as the shorter man looked so damn proud.

And then… John smiled. Not the usual smile he always puts on, no. A giddy smile, one that took over his whole face, his hardened features softening, his eyes crinkling, and his body feeling light as a feather. And with it came that same soft laughter as he took Javier’s traded shot glass and lifted it to his lips, knocking it back just like the other man had done to him.

But as the whiskey flowed down his throat, leaving that satisfying warmth and burn ebbing down his throat, he lifted his head back up. And there, as he lowered the glass down, he kept a hold on it and left his lips lingering on the rim, and stared deeply over at Javier Escuella.

While staring at him, both of the men’s eyes became low and glassy, meeting right in the middle. With a little puff of air from his nostrils, John pulled his lips from the glass, licking his own stray droplets, reached over, and placed it back down on Javier’s side of the table with a ‘clank’.

“Well?” John asked gruffly, clearing his throat as his lips pulled into a smirk. He watched Javier expectantly, with the shorter man’s eyes narrowing as he stared at John.

“Well what, now?” Javier questioned back as gruffly, his low eyes blinking all slow-like, as if he were in some sort of trance. Just the sight alone made all the hairs on John’s arms stand on end, his body filling even further with that giddiness to the point of nearly bursting. But he maintained his cool, tapping his finger against his glass to capture the others' attention.

“You gonna pour me another one? Or are you just gonna let me dry out?” John requested, his words smooth like whiskey and voice low and rumbling. That’s what finally broke Javier out of his little entrancement, his eyes immediately darting down to the bottle of whiskey and shot glass before him in recognition.

And then, a quiet little laugh slipped from his throat, his shoulders and head shaking together as he reached over, his fingers just barely ghosting against John’s as he took the shot glass from him. He slid it over and, alongside his own, poured another shot for them both, trading the other man back his glass.

“You’re right, wouldn’t wanna let you go dry.” Javier muttered as he leaned over and slid the glass over to John’s side, coming almost face to face with him as he stood. His dark eyes moved up and down, looking between John’s eyes, and from the heat that he felt upon them, his lips, making his chest grow warmer and warmer despite not taking the shot yet.

A silence fell upon the two as Javier moved back to his spot, settling down into his chair with a woody creak, yet his eyes still remained on John’s. Despite the sound of the celebration–of piano music echoing in the air, of boots bouncing and prancing across the wooden floor, of glasses and bottles cheering with idle chatter–it felt like the whole world went quiet in that moment. A quiet that made every square inch of John’s body feel warm, from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes.

He could feel Javier’s eyes inching all around at him, yet never quite leaving their matched gaze, like a fox. Watching, waiting, examining with intrigue and interest that was left unspoken, but John could see it etched into the curves and creases across Javier’s face. A face that before now, he never would have looked at so closely, admiring the little sunlit freckles and blemishes across his strong nose or the faint scars that hugged his cheeks. Scars that made that young man look so much older despite being his age.

It took what felt like forever for John to realize he was staring at Javier, and rather intensely too, making him sniffle and clear his throat as he looked back into the shorter man’s eyes. “I think I’m already feelin’ hot… What’d you give me?” John asked with a little huffy laugh and lilt of his lips, trying to hide the fact he was feeling like he was under the desert sun.

But the attempt at that joke didn’t seem to hit how he wanted, because as he said it, a shine appeared in Javier’s eyes, one he had never seen quite like before. It matched the little curl that played at the edges of Javier’s lips, his eyes lowering as he rested an elbow on the table. And slowly, he leaned closer, humming amusedly at John with a quirk of his brow as his lips parted to speak.

“Mmm… Wouldn’t you like to know, John Mars–”

“Oi, you two! Get off yer asses and come show a lady how to really dance instead of whispering like a pair of creeps in the corner!”

The two men suddenly almost fell right from their seats, the wood beneath the chairs creaking and the two of them fumbling at the sudden voice that yelled right beside them. Javier of course acted all fine and dandy, quickly recovering as he cleared his throat. But John, well, his head felt mighty dizzy as he braced himself against the wood, whipping his head around to find none other than Karen Jones–all dolled up with her curled hair, makeup, low cut top, and skirt–looking at the two of them expectantly with her hands on her hips.

“What, Sean wasn’t enough for you Karen?” John asked with a sigh and pointed look, partly hoping that she didn’t see anything, while also hoping that she’d take the hint and not make them dance with her. Though Karen merely turned her nose up with a similar huff as she watched the two men, shaking her head.

“Psshh, he wishes he was enough for me. That dolt’s all busy with Arthur, Lenny, and the goddamn whiskey!” She drawled with annoyance heavily laced in her voice, tilting her head on over towards the bar. And there, both John and Javier saw exactly what she meant.

At the bar, Arthur, Lenny, and Sean were sitting by the bar with Uncle stumbling over to them, drunk as a trio of skunks. Their whole bodies wavered to and fro–Arthur and Sean’s more so than Lenny’s–cheering and raising their glasses up sloppily and spilling them about as they downed them. And much to John’s surprise, Sean’s attention, which had been on Karen the whole damn night of the celebration, was completely captured by those two fools, making him sigh.

“Well, that can’t slide, now can it John?” Javier suddenly said, immediately making John’s attention whip over towards the shorter man as he stood up confidently from his seat.

“Wait, what? What the hell’re you gonna do?” John asked with a confused look, his jaw falling as he watched Javier adjust his bright red ascot like some sort of proud rooster. The shorter man looked to him, his lips curling into that wide smile–the one he saw him put on during their heists.

“To show a lady how to dance, of course, just like she asked!” Javier exclaimed proudly as he took his hat, tipping it and bowing before Karen like a gentleman. Of course, she grinned from ear to ear as she offered out her hand, barely able to contain her excitement. And with a smirk, Javier spared one last glance to John, raising his brows together oddly, before stepping idly with Karen to the dance floor.

As if on cue, the piano faded off into a new song, a high beat ol’ honky tonk song. The folks that were already on their feet started cheering and dancing, grabbing their partners and delving into dance, while some others traded to sit and watch. Javier and Karen though joined right on in, with Javier taking Karen by the hip and swaying side to side, spinning her here and there as her laugh filled the air like a melody.

John watched from where he sat at the table, watching with a knowing smile as Javier quickly fell into it, adding a little of his own charm to it. He added a bit of a slow hop to his steps, making Karen’s eyes widen as she looked down at his stamping boots. She followed in suit, her own boots hopping as they went around in circles, catching some of the attention of others.

Then, with a smile, Javier took her hand and spun her, but not the usual slow spin they always saw in bars like this, no. A quick double spin, making Karen’s curls bounce and her laughter grow before pulling her in by the hips. And soon enough, the whole crowd's eyes were on the pair, with some of the other dancers pointing or following suit as the music picked up.

But even though Javier was leading Karen, John could see it–his eyes, staring at him the whole time. With every step, every turn, every spin or chance he got, Javier looked straight into John’s gaze with those deep brown eyes, watching him so intensely. It was almost as if he were luring him in from that seat, trying to bring him to the floor to dance with him instead of Karen.

But, clearly it didn’t go unseen, because as Javier turned with Karen once more, her eyes suddenly looked back towards where John sat. And immediately, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed into a pout, and immediately shouted over the crowd and straight at him, “I meant you too, you sad sack!”

Instantly, as she glared right over at John Marston, his once flushed warm face fell as cold as driven snow. His eyes widened, his whole brain felt like it was a stuttering engine on a steamboat as he glanced around in confusion.

“Wh–Me?” He asked with a perturbed look, pointing to himself like some fool. And clearly, he wasn’t the only one who heard it as members of the gang's attention turned right over to look at him.

“What? John dancin’? What year is it?” Lenny called out with his drawl, a big smile appearing on his youthful face as he turned to look at Arthur.

The aforementioned larger man cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting loudly with a drunken slur, “C’mon John, get off yer stool and dance with them twinkle toes!” And with Arthur came more calls for him to dance, some from the folks they knew, others from just a bunch of random drunk patrons.

All eyes were on John though in that moment as their voices echoed through the saloon. But the only ones that he cared about were Javier’s as he looked over Karen’s shoulder, shining with an intrigue that made John’s nostrils flare as his chest felt as tight as a noose. And with an annoyed huff and scratch at the side of his head, John forced himself to stand, leaving behind the whiskey as he looked grumbled under his breath, hoping he wouldn’t regret this…

“Fine, fine… Long as ya’ll stop starin’!” John called out to the crowd as he stepped out over towards the pair, head lowered like a shy child as Karen giggled at his sorry self. She reached out and took his hand, jerking him right over into place with an awkward stumble of his boots and a frown until he was right next to a smiling Javier Escuella, looking at him curiously.

Off in the room though, as Karen led the two men further onto the dance floor, the other girls–Tilly and Mary-Beth–watched, giggled, and gossiped on while sitting beside them men they wrassled up, pointing over to the trio curiously. So much so that a certain Sean MacGuire finally lifted his head up from the bar, turning over towards the dance floor, and immediately frowned as his eyes came upon the trio as they became the forefront of the crowd.

“I cannae believe this… First ‘Scuella, now Marston?” Sean whined out the question like a kicked puppy, his eyes almost brimming with tears as he sat there like a sad sap. But of course, that didn’t last long as Uncle smacked him on the back of his head, making him sniffle loudly as the elderly man turned to him.

“Oh quit yer whining Sean, you had yer chance! Now less cryin’ and more whiskey!” Uncle exclaimed loudly as he forced the man to sit up, taking a long sip from his own shotglass before pouring a fresh one for Sean.

There, the whole crowd watched as the trio danced to the music, with John and Javier taking turns to spin Karen around, making her whole face flush with high on life joy as the bar grew livelier and livelier by the second. Within moments everyone was practically joining in, singing and dancing and clapping whether they stood or sat, raising their glasses and cheering as the purest form of joy and celebration filled the air.

It felt like a great time to be alive for John as he sat and swayed with the other two, watching Javier grin from ear to ear while dipping Karen or watching her make John awkwardly spin under her shorter arm. Their boots hopped around, drumming across the wood. Their voices sang in tandem as they swayed to and fro. And by the end of it, John was left feeling more energized than ever as he clicked his boot heels against the floor, swaying, twirling, and sashaying with those two like their lives depending on it.

But as John started to fall into it–his hand squeezing onto Javier's as the two fell into a little circle dance that reminded him of the kind he’d see with the Natives–his other hand felt oddly empty. And before he knew it, as he turned to his right, he saw Karen being swept away by a gentleman that held her by her hip and hand.

“Where the hell’re you–” John tried to exclaim to her, but he was quickly shut up as Karen snickered right at him, eyeballing both him and Javier as she disappeared off into the crowd. And there, he stood just with Javier, still swaying as the other as they stood arm in arm. “That damn woman…” He grumbled, making his head shake as Javier turned to him with a smirk.

“What, disappointed now that she’s not here, Marston?” Javier asked as he turned to face him, almost standing chest to chest with him, still holding onto his hand as the crowd circled around them. John’s eyes looked down towards the shorter man, the tips of his ears feeling warm as he realized just how close the two of them were, even though he knew they shouldn’t be.

But despite that, John couldn’t help but play that man’s little game, huffing as he turned his nose up just like Karen. “Hmph… Maybe I am, Escuella.” John muttered pointedly, raising his brows sharply like Javier had done when he had led Karen out onto the dance floor, making the shorter man chuckle as they swayed together side to side.

“Well for someone with ‘twinkle toes’, you’re pretty good at keeping up.” Javier muttered bemusedly, looking down at John’s slow stepping feet as he reached out towards him, not quite touching him. But, he could feel Javier’s hand hovering just above his hip, the heat of his calloused palm making John nearly trip with giddiness.

The man though remained sturdy, keeping his composure as he merely cleared his throat. And with a smirk, he looked at Javier and snicker, muttering out, “Only cause you dance like Missus Grimshaw.”

“Oh, I dance like Missus Grimshaw huh?” Javier retorted back with a wide grin, his thick eyebrows almost raising right to his hairline as John leaned right in close. So close in fact, their noses were almost touching as he parted his lips.

“Yep. Slow as a goddamn horse with a limp.” John breathed out in a whisper as he tipped his chin down to look right into Javier’s eyes, admiring the way the low lantern lights shone in the dark brown, making them look as golden as the sun.

But as he stared into them, that shine started to appear again, and before he knew it, Javier’s hand rested on his hip, his fingers curling around the belt loops. And with widened eyes, John watched as Javier leaned up and whispered right in his ear, “Then why don’t I show you what I can really do, John…”

Like a whirling hurricane, Javier took John by the hand and started dancing with him. With relative ease, Javier maneuvered John around like it was nothing, pushing him out, pulling him in, and twirling him around like he didn’t even weigh a thing. It made John’s whole body feel light as a feather. He tried to keep up with Javier, dipping with him, knocking their knees together and laughing as he almost stumbled here and there.

The sound of their laughter and the sight of their dance though caught on onlookers, ones that at that moment John didn’t pay much attention to. But instead of curses of disgust or threats of violence, a sudden bout of laughter started from the bar–Arthur’s low rumbling cackle. And soon, a whole cacophony of giggles and chortles fell across the whole crowd, with folks pointing and grinning as they watched Javier sling John around like it was nothing.

And of course, it made the two men laugh as well, but not at the sight of two men being odd and dancing. No, their laughter was of joy, of fun. A moment that they had both been longing for and needed after all the senseless chaos and stress these past few months.

John of course melted right on into it, lapping all of Javier's attention and touching up like a thirsty beast. But as he rolled his body languidly towards Javier, trying to match him, the other suddenly took him by the waist. And as his eyes widened, the man pulled him aside and dipped him down, down, down, until John could feel his back ache and hat threaten to fall.

And there, he saw it: the warm lantern light shining around Javier’s head like some sort of halo, like the setting sun on a mountain. He could see the creases around Javier’s lips deepen as he smiled, his eyes crinkling just from the sheer size of it. And in that moment, for just a moment, John stared at those dark crackled lips as an odd hope burbled inside him, one that made him want those lips to come close.

And they came closer, and closer, with Javier nearly touching the tip of his nose against John’s, his dark pupils doing that little glancing dance they kept on doing all night. And then…

THWACK!

John felt his whole body slam into the floor like a sack of potatoes, nearly knocking the wind out of him as he landed with the largest of thuds. It took him a moment to blink away the little purple specters of light that clouded his vision, his whole head feeling dizzier than before and back aching from the suddenness of it.

But, once he shook them all away and came to, the whole crowd of the saloon was laughing with joy as they all doubled over, pointing towards his way. And there stood Javier Escuella, proud as can be with his hands on his hips, snickering not with the crowd nor quite at him, like a playful little fox.

A fox with eyes that twinkled like stars at night.

And before he knew it, John joined in the laughter, his whole chest heaving and hollering as the the other reached out to him, hauling him up to his feet. And as quickly as it came to, the night went on by with a celebration as John enjoyed the moment and memory. A night that for the longest time he had forgotten, but truly would never fully forget.

*   *   *   *   *

“I still remember it like yesterday… Seeing everyone there, dancing with you in my arms.” Javier’s voice mused aloud, bringing John back to the present. His eyes lowered down to where Javier sat, the bowl of stew now sitting by his side as he stared at John knowingly.

The taller man though couldn’t help but frown down at him, his eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring as he let out a huff. “Yeah well… There’s a reason why yesterday remains yesterday and not today.” He muttered as he averted his eyes, wondering how long it had been since he came out here.

“Well if it were my choice, that’d be different.” Javier said softly, the harshness and spitefulness that had emanated in his voice moments ago oddly missing. So much so that it made John’s blood start to run hot, his head whipping to look back at the man as he sat there.

“And if it were mine, Escuella, a lot of damn things would be different.” John spat out towards him with each word pointedly, his fingers curling tightly into where they rested on his arms. Yet Javier didn’t seem to react much, his gaze lowering down as his brows knitted together in thought.

“Different… huh?” Javier muttered to himself, his fingers flexing against the wood for a moment, before he tilted his head up towards him.

Before John could even think of a retort though, the man stood and began stepping slowly yet idly towards John as he stared at him. “Would you have wanted it to be different… That night?” Javier asked, that odd softness permeating in his voice again, making John’s stomach curl with unease as his whole body fell into cautiousness.

“The hell do you–” John tried to question, but the other came close, very close. So close that John could feel his breath emanate against his skin as he looked up towards him, examining him from head to toe until their eyes locked.

“John, c’mon, we both know you’re not that stupid…” Javier whispered as he looked into his eyes, his fingers twitching as his arm began to move. But as he began to reach towards John, the man took a step back, his heart pounding and blood rushing so loudly through his ears.

“No…” John whispered as he shook his head, all the hair on his skin standing on end as he kept backing away. He only ended up hitting the edge of the doorway though, making him jump and look away to see where he hit. But when he turned back, he was face to face with Javier, looking at him intently, gazing so deeply into his eyes he swore Javier could see into his soul.

“John, please…” Javier pleaded softly, his hand reaching out and up words on his face, towards his cheek. He could feel the heat emanating from his fingers, more calloused than before, as they ghosted over the faded scar upon the aged skin.

For a moment, just a moment, John felt a sense of familiarity–an urge to lean into the touch. But that sense of familiarity was quickly sent astray as his whole body filled with rigidity. Without even needing to think, he took Javier’s hand and pushed it away and into Javier’s chest, practically shoving the other man's body back as his whole face, jaw, and neck became hardened and tense.

“No Javier… Not again.” John stated, hissing it out at Javier as the man regained his composure, panting heavily. And without another word, John turned his back to the other man and walked out the door of that storage room, reaching and grabbing for the doors outside.

He could hear Javier breathing as he started to close the doors up, not caring about retrieving that damn bowl–he could do it tomorrow, after all. But as he swung them together, the wood creaking beneath his fingertips, he turned towards the entryway of the storage to completely shut them. And as they came only inches from closing, with the faintest sliver between them, he dared to look up and saw Javier staring back at him with those eyes.

Despite that, the emptiness and anger he had seen since the day he was allowed to stay, the cautiousness that ebbed within them like an open wound, was nowhere to be seen. And in its place, as he watched Javier standing there hunched over, clutching his chest and balling his hand up in his shirt tightly, was something he had never ever expected to see again.

That light.

It was faint, fainter than an ember in a burnt out firepit. Yet it was there, flickering in the dark brown irises as they watched him, almost pleading for him to turn back and stay.

It took John a moment as he held that gaze, the odd feeling within him surfacing again. A feeling that he had not felt in so long… A warmth, like downing a shot of whiskey in the middle of Valentine’s saloon. Like the grasp of a hand while dancing under lanternlight. And like the laughter and joy that had filled him that night and many more as the months went on by.

Yet, it was a warmth he had long pushed away, locking it up within him and throwing away the key just like he did with his memories of the past. And now, at that moment, even though part of him longed to pick that lock and open it again… He knew better than to fall into those kinds of feelings after tripping that trap one too many times.

His eyes lowered down towards his hands as they held the door, towards the ring that now settled on his ring finger–the one Arthur had given him. The symbol of his present and the future that was bestowed upon him, the calling of freedom and happiness from a life of struggle, pain, and betrayal. And with a sigh, John softly muttered out into the night…

“…Goodnight, Javier.” The door shuttered closed with a creak, closing the little bit of line of sight between them and cutting off the shared gaze they had, leaving him with the last image of Javier Escuella’s eyes in the darkness.

With a sigh, John turned away from the storage shed, and with a few breaths to keep his composure, he stalked his way back towards the house. Back to his life, his home, his family, and to his wife to end the night… not hearing the last whispers as they emanated through the storage room.

“Goodnight… John.”

FIN