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After another long day of planning their defenses against Bogue, the sun had begun to set below the horizon, marking the end of their preparations for the time being.
According to Sam, preparations would be finished by tomorrow.
For the past few days, The Seven had been staying at an inn at Rose Creek. Billy roomed with Goodnight, Jack with Red, Faraday with Vasquez, and Sam a room to himself.
Faraday, after spending the day assisting Jack, threw himself onto his bed, the springy mattress squeaking beneath his bodyweight. Vasquez, on the other hand, had been helping Red carve out wooden pikes. Sitting on his bed, he was picking the few splitters he had gotten out of his fingers.
“Horne got you worked up, eh, guero?” Vasquez smirked, looking up to see Faraday cracking his knuckles.
“Dang beast of a man made me dig them trenches,” Faraday complained, looking up at the ceiling. Calluses were starting to form around the joints of his fingers from repeatedly swinging a pickaxe into the rock-hard dirt.
“I don't blame him; you look like you need the workout more than he does!” Vasquez replied with a good laugh, picking out the last splinter from his finger.
“Hey! I’m as fit as a fiddle!” Faraday rebutted, sitting up and facing Vasquez.
“Stronger than Red Harvest, I bet!”
Vasquez only quietly chuckled at his friend's bold claims, knowing damn well that he wasn't as big as he made himself out to be. Faraday had a bit of an ego, and as much as it annoyed Vasquez, he found himself admiring that about him at times.
“Uh huh. He’d kick your ass, muchacho.”
“I could smear that paint off his face, just watch me.”
“Aye, ¿te crees la gran cosa, no cabrón?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Vasquez laughed again.
“Whatever you say, muchacho.”
Faraday got up from his bed and stretched, throwing his arms over his head and cracking his neck.
“Up for a drink, Texican?” he asked Vasquez, already headed for the door.
“Don't call me that,” he frowned, but got up anyway, following Faraday out the door.
The two walked besides each other towards the town’s saloon, the walk starting off a bit quiet.
“One day ‘til Bogue comes by,” Vasquez put his hands in his pockets, turning his head to gauge Faraday’s reaction. As expected, he had that cocky smirk on his face, as if saying that Bogue’s men were nothing but ants to squish. Yet, as one of the sun’s last rays began to set, shining off of Faraday’s face, something else laid beneath his eye, something that Vasquez noticed was getting stronger and stronger by the days. It seemed like uncertainty. Distress, even.
“I wouldn't be a worrywart ‘bout it.” Faraday huffed, putting a hand on his hip as he walked. “Bogue is a coward and a scoundrel; he's nothin’ without his men protectin’ his sorry lil’ ass.”
Vasquez hummed in agreement; The Seven had already made plenty of jokes about that. Even if Bogue was practically a nobody, his men were still to be wary of. Words from the townsfolk and Red Harvest’s spying, there were hundreds of them.
Vasquez was about to bring that up, as it was a prominent matter, but Faraday managed to interrupt him before he even opened his mouth.
“Bogue this, Bogue that,” he rolled his eyes, hopping up the steps to the establishment.
“Let's just get wasted already, yeah?”
Faraday quickly entered the saloon, his spirits immediately lifting at the lively atmosphere. Vasquez followed behind the other man, sitting down next to him at the counter when he did.
“Hey, bartender! Any bourbon left?” Faraday successfully caught the bartender's attention by raising his hand. Without a word, the bartender grabbed a new bottle from the shelf and poured out a glass, placing it in front of Faraday.
After paying for his glass, the bartender turned to Vasquez, waiting for his drink request.
“Tequila, my friend.”
Faraday stifled a laugh, and Vasquez just glared at him through the corner of his eye.
After paying for his drink, the two clicked their glasses in cheers, taking swigs from their respective drinks. With satisfied sighs, the two men put their glasses down, Faraday’s glass being more empty than Vasquez’s.
When he said he wanted to get wasted, he meant it.
“Two bits I dry the barkeep of his bourbon,” Faraday tilted his head towards the shelf, looking at the barely emptied bottle of bourbon.
“Four bits you hurl,” Vasquez betted, shooting Faraday a challenging look.
Faraday never backed out of a bet, and never for such an easy one, at that.
“Hey! Barkeep! How much for that whole bottle?”
(Time skip eughhrhhgehgjrhhrhg)
Nightfall seemed to arrive faster than they wanted it to. At the counter, sat Faraday and Vasquez, their glasses, and an empty bottle of American bourbon.
“Aye yai yai, cabrón…” Vasquez shook his head, chuckling to himself as he watched Faraday struggle to sit up straight. He’s seen him drinking all the time, as he always seemed to carry a bottle of something wherever he went. To see him as wasted as he was now was new to him, and he wasn't complaining. It was awfully funny to see the other man with his cheeks flushed, eyes hazy, mind cluttered, words slurred, and looking like he could black out at any second.
After a few hiccups, Faraday downed the rest of his glass, slamming it against the counter with a heavy breath.
“What’d I-” hic “-tell ya, Vas?” Faraday unevenly grinned and uncoordinatedly pointed at the Mexican man, a hint of victory in his dazed green eyes.
“Pay up, son!” he held out his hand expectantly.
“Vale madre...” Vasquez muttered, begrudgingly putting twenty-five cents into Faraday’s palm. Faraday mockingly stuck out his tongue as he chuckled, holding up the coin for Vasquez to gawk at, before shoving it into his pant pocket.
Intoxicated as he was, he was still a cocky bastard, and Vasquez couldn't help but scoff at the arrogant display. He was surprised he even managed to tuck the coin into his pocket, considering how hazy his eyesight must've been.
“I thought-” Faraday was interrupted with a belch, thumping his chest to excuse himself. “You Mexicans were heavy drinkers.”
Vasquez was perplexed as to why he felt the need to say that, before he realized that he was referring to his drink.
Since it was only the two of them, one of them had to stay relatively sober in case anything stupid happened.
And something stupid did happen.
Yeah, maybe Vasquez encouraged the stupid behavior, but Faraday started it.
Vasquez had a few drinks of his own, three to be exact. He would've drank more if Faraday hadn't decided to drink a whole 750 milliliter bottle of bourbon by himself.
“And I thought you were a poser,” Vasquez sipped his tequila, brushing off Faraday’s previous statement.
“Me?” he pointed at himself with disbelief, followed by another hiccup.
“A poser?”
He scoffed.
“Yeah right.”
Faraday raised his hand to get the bartender's attention once more, when Vasquez grabbed his wrist and made him put his hand down.
“Hey, calma, muchacho!” he chuckled, amused by Faraday’s quick response to his ever-so slightly challenging tone.
“I’m just messing with you!”
Faraday looked down at his wrist being held down by Vasquez, and the Mexican man let go upon the other’s notice.
“No need to get so worked up,” he added with another huff of amusement, looking up at Faraday, who looked back at him.
There was a split second of eye contact, before Faraday looked away.
At Vasquez’s drink, to be exact.
Without a second to react, Faraday had already taken the half-drunken glass from Vasquez.
“Wha?-” he blinked, his hand still holding the ghost of his glass.
Faraday downed the rest of Vasquez’s tequila, the alcohol burning down his throat as he did. As soon as there was nothing left, he slammed the glass down, letting out a breath and wiping his mouth.
He was about to say some other snarky thing to him, before he burped again and suddenly began to feel sick.
“Cabrón, y eso pa que?!” Vasquez yelled at Faraday, clearly irritated that he stole his drink in which he paid for. As annoyed as he was, he let out a sharp sigh once he noticed Faraday clutching his stomach.
He should've seen that coming.
“Alright, that's enough for you, pendejo.” Vasquez got up from his seat, stepping towards Faraday. Standing at his side, he reached out his hand to grab his arm.
“I’m fi-” hic “-ine.” Faraday assured him, pushing his hand away. Despite how nauseous he was beginning to feel, he stood up on his own, only for his legs to immediately give out. Luckily, Vasquez caught him before he could bash his head into the stool in front of him.
“Calma te por un rato, ey torpe?” he hissed, grabbing Faraday’s waist with one hand, and his arm with the other.
“Hijo de su chingada madre…”
He slung his arm around his shoulders, forcing the Irish man to lean against him, despite his slurred protests.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Faraday looked up at Vasquez with an annoyed yet confused look, dragging his feet as they exited the saloon.
“I’ll have you know,” hic, “that I ain't interested in you or yer good looks.” he pointed a finger at Vasquez.
Vasquez just looked at Faraday as if he lost his mind.
“You-” burp “- heard me.” he continued.
“I don't care ‘bout how strong you are, or how nice yer eyes look, or how handsome yer face is—I don't like you.”
So maybe Faraday’s words were a bit flattering to Vasquez, but for the most part, he found it strange and hilarious.
Strange because Faraday had never said anything so nice to him before, even while sober. Hilarious because it was so random, and out of everything he could've chosen to compliment him by, he chose his strength and supposedly “good looks”.
“Are you sure?” Vasquez decided to egg him on, figuring that Faraday would be too drunk to be even the slightest bit aware of what he was saying.
“Damn well.” Faraday nodded once.
“I’m not fallin’ for…” he trailed off, his head feeling light and his mouth over-salivating.
He quickly broke out of Vasquez’s support, leaning against a nearby wall as he began vomiting.
Faraday stood there for a moment, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Vasquez approached him with an opened water flask, to which he accepted. He poured some water into his hand to wipe his mouth, then gargled and spat out another handful, before handing it back to Vasquez.
Turns out he’d be getting his four bits, after all.
(Time skip to when they get back to the inn 🙂)
After dragging Faraday for what felt like forever, Vasquez finally made it to their room at the inn.
With yet more protesting, he sat Faraday onto his bed, then helped the man take off his hat, vest, belt, and boots, before taking off his own.
Vasquez sat down on his own bed, sighing a deep breath of exhaustion.
So much for a relaxing evening at the saloon…
He took out a cigar and struck a match, lighting the end of it and inhaling the smoke. The soothing effect almost immediately kicked in, and it was something he so desperately wanted this entire day.
After taking a few puffs, he looked up at Faraday, who was oddly quiet (for once).
He was staring at Vasquez, and it made him think back to their weird conversation.
A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts, was the first thing that came to his mind. What drove Faraday to compliment him on his looks, and to tell him that he “wasn't interested” in him?
It was conflicting.
There were countless times he and Faraday mocked each other, were at each other's throats, even as close as to throwing hands at times. Whenever they weren't, they were just.. amigos.
But, what if they weren't? A faint part of Vasquez found himself hoping that they weren't, for some strange reason.
He immediately shook off that thought, feeling weird for even thinking of that.
Vasquez was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice Faraday stumbling towards him, who fell onto his knees in front of him.
“¿Ahora que, guero?” he sighed, looking down at Faraday, who had his hands on his knees.
“You know,” hic, “I know I told you I wasn't interested, but, I think yer pretty damn charmin’.” he looked up at Vasquez, that stupid smile on his face.
Now that, actually flattered him this time. He felt his face get warm, something he never felt around Faraday or the others before.
Before he could say something in response, he felt Faraday's grip around the collar of his shirt, and he pulled him down to his level, catching him by surprise.
The other man sloppily planted a kiss onto his lips, the smell and taste of alcohol on his breath burning through his nose and on his mouth.
“Q-Que?-” Vasquez sputtered as he pushed Faraday away, albeit, a bit harder than he intended to.
“Mierda que te pasa?!”
Faraday, now sitting on the floor, couldn't help but laugh at Vasquez’s flustered reaction.
“Ain’t it obvious? I love you, vaquero!” he chuckled, getting up from the floor, before falling onto Vasquez again. This time, with so much force, they ended up laying on top of each other on the bed.
If Vasquez wasn't blushing hard last time, he definitely was, now. His cigar had fallen onto the nightstand, but thankfully his hand was close enough to extinguish it against the ashtray. He couldn't move all that much with Faraday on top of him. As much as he needed to get him off of himself, he found himself not wanting to do that.
He could feel Faraday’s heartbeat against his chest, and the intimacy of the moment was starting to dawn on him.
Vasquez was about to ask Faraday to get off of him, but the sound of him snoring in his ear told him that he wouldn't.
With another tired sigh, Vasquez grabbed Faraday by the hips, adjusting their position so that they could lay on the bed properly.
As Faraday slept, facing Vasquez, the one awake wondered just how he'd explain to him as to why they were sleeping together.
Hopefully, he'd just wake up before the other.
Vasquez turned his head to face Faraday, a jumble of thoughts going through his mind as he stared at his sleeping face.
A drunk man's words are a sober man’s thoughts, he repeated to himself.
The more he thought about it, the more he smiled to himself.
He turned his body fully to face Faraday, taking a good look at the man to his right.
Sure, he might've acted a bit rude in the moment, but now that he knew how he felt about him, he could only grin like an idiot.
“I love you too, guerito.”
(It's the morning!!!)
“Aye, muchacho, wake up!” Vasquez sat on the edge of the bed, shaking Faraday by the shoulder. “It's a big day, and you're sleeping in?”
Faraday groaned at Vasquez’s rather aggressive wakeup call, rubbing his eyes open to adjust to the brightness of the room.
“Fuuuuuck…” he moaned, closing his eyes again as the light made the throbbing in his head even worse.
“I’m up, man.”
“Good. Didn't want you to drink yourself to death on me.” Vasquez laughed, helping Faraday sit up.
“What even happened?” he raised an eyebrow, his lower back feeling a bit sore for whatever reason.
“And why am I on your bed?”
“You got drunk and I had to carry your fatass back to the inn.” Vasquez explained.
“My bed just happened to be closer to the door than yours.”
Faraday glanced at the door, noticing that he was right.
“Enough about the problems of yesterday, we have today's problems to take care of.” Vasquez threw Faraday his belt and vest, which he just barely caught.
“Breakfast is ready and I got you some painkillers, I’ll give them to you when you come down.
Vasquez opened the door, about to leave, before he remembered something.
“Oh, and before I forget,” he turned to Faraday, “you owe me four bits,” he smirked, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
Faraday sighed defeatedly, getting up from the bed to get himself ready for the day.
He couldn't recall anything from last night, but he knew he must've gotten wasted if he couldn't remember.
He figured he'd just ask Vasquez about it once they took care of Bogue.
Once he put on his hat, he took one last look of himself in the nightstand mirror, before heading out to meet the others at breakfast.
It would be a stressful day today, might as well get in a good breakfast while he could.
(A few days later…)
“Morning, guerito!” Vasquez greeted Faraday, who was sitting on the outskirts of Rose Creek.
Hopping off of his horse, he sat down across from him on the ground, crossing his legs.
“Light of funds again, my friend?” he smirked, absentmindedly playing with something in his hands.
“Still owe me my four bits, y’know.”
After some tense silence, begrudgingly, Faraday dropped two quarters in front of Vasquez.
He really wished it was actually him.
“That man always owes someone somethin’, doesn't he?” Sam stood across from Vasquez, an understanding glint in his eyes.
Vasquez looked up at the officer, chuckling lightly at that. Yet, he couldn't help the slight frown that followed quickly after.
He looked back down at Faraday, fidgeting with the thing in his hands.
There was silence between the men, the three of them at a loss for words to say.
Vasquez looked down at his hands, Sam following his gaze.
“He’s lucky I'm willing to cover for him again.” Sam shook his head, turning away and walking back into town, leaving Vasquez and Faraday alone.
“For the sacrifices he made, he doesn't deserve debt to follow him into the afterlife.”
A part of Vasquez refused to believe that Faraday was actually gone.
He was always slithering himself out of trouble, why couldn't he then?
Vasquez sighed.
He already accepted the fact that Faraday’s death was inevitable.
It was just.. hard to believe sometimes.
“You know, I found this while we were fixing up the pueblo.” In between his fingers, Vasquez held out a playing card.
It was a bit beat up around the edges, but surprisingly, was in relatively good condition.
“It's the Sota de Corazóns, or Jack of Hearts; I thought it suits you.” he smiled, turning the card over to look at the face of it.
“The Jack is ambitious, cunning, youthful… I would call you more immature than youthful, but you get the idea.” he chuckled, pointing the card at Faraday.
“I thought the hearts were funny because, you’re the ‘world’s greatest lover’, am I right?” he cocked an eyebrow, obviously teasing him.
“‘World’s greatest lover', aye yai yai…” he repeated, shaking his head at the stupidity of it.
“World’s greatest lover my ass, I bet you’ve never even kissed a woman before!” he laughed, leaning forward.
Vasquez could practically hear what Faraday would've said to that.
“Her loss” or “like you have any experience with the ladies”.
Something along the lines of that.
Or maybe something like…
“I may not be a hit with the ladies, but if I can charm a man like you, then that's all I could ever ask for.”
He wished Faraday would've remembered what he did the day before the battle.
“Okay, I didn't think the hearts suited you just because I thought it was funny.” Vasquez reluctantly admitted, rolling his eyes, before looking back at Faraday.
“You cheated men out of their money, stole what wasn't yours. If you did that to me,” he huffed, “I would've been pissed.”
“But, if it's my heart you wanted to steal…” he jokingly thought about it for a moment.
“Ah, I wouldn't mind, guerito.” he smiled, tucking the Jack of Hearts into Faraday’s vest pocket.
Taking one final good look at him, Vasquez finally stood up, brushing himself off.
He stared at the cross in the dirt.
“Joshua Faraday”.
Vasquez couldn't help but smile to himself.
He brought two fingers to his lips and kissed them, gently tapping them against the horizontal plank of wood.
He hopped onto his horse, about to ride back into town.
“I’ll see you on the other side, mi amor!” he waved goodbye to Faraday.
As the Mexican rode into town, Faraday couldn't help but grin.
“Yeah, can't wait to see you again too, Vasquez.”