Challenge Entry June 2012: Cause N Effect
Title: Cause N Effect
Author: 27bluebirds
Word count: 1759
Genre: AU
Warnings: generous use of curse words (by Ennis. It's all his fault ;)
Disclaimer: Ennis and Jack belong to Annie Proulx. No money is made from it.
Summary: Cause: Ennis broke his foot
Effect: you'll have to read to know
A/N: I managed to use all eight prompts. Whoo-hoo! :)
I didn't want to bold them, so it wouldn't detract from the story. Here's the order I used them in : sunlight, nature, sex(uality, bent that one a bit), magic, harmony, life, healing, spirit(s). The last one is in the epilogue, which will be posted tomorrow.
Hope you enjoy!
A/N 2: The title is in memory of Heath, who directed a music video of the same name. Thank you, Heath, for Ennis.
Cause N Effect
Damn foot.
Ennis watched his foot and cursed it as if it had its own free will. As if it had decided to get broken just to piss him off. A full week with Jack in the mountains, the weather even played along, nothing but bright sunlight for the last two days and it was supposed to stay that way for the whole week. Jack hated the cold, his bitching and nagging sure could rub on Ennis' nerves. But not this time. This time everything could have been perfect. Warm weather, a whole week of enjoying nature, whiskey and sex.
Instead he was caught in this shack of a house, his foot put up on the only other chair he called his own, and all he could do was wait for it to heal. Which would take weeks, the doctors had said. His skin under the cast itched and Ennis took the wire hanger he had bent and used it for a good scratch. He had given up on torqueing it back already on the first day, figured he had more use for it that way.
Only thing he hoped was that Jack had gotten his postcard in time before he'd get ready to leave for Wyoming. In two days they were supposed to meet at Ginger Fork, right along the 191, and head into the Bridger-Teton Range. Every time he thought about it he cursed not having a phone. Why hadn't he called right away, instead of asking the foreman for a quick stop at the post office? Damn his foot and damn his stupidity.
It was nice of Alma to come around every other day and bring him whatever he needed, and a warm meal on top of that. Another plus was seeing his daughters so often, they always insisted to come along with their mom. But the friendliness offered to him was a double-edged sword, he payed for it by being forced to listen to her endless lectures. Fuck that misery voice of hers.
Fuck that foot. Fuck the warm weather, fuck the phone he didn't have and Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! if he'd ask her to drive him into town for a phone call. She'd know.
What would Jack do if he hadn't gotten the card in time and waited for him at Ginger Fork? How long would he wait? He'd stay the night and be pretty pissed. Ennis was sure Jack would wait at least one day. What then? He wouldn't come to Riverton again, not after what had happened that one time some years ago, after his divorce. He'd probably drive to his folks and find the postcard on his return to Texas. At least it would explain his absence, but Jack would be mad he hadn't called. Which brought Ennis' thoughts full circle. Why didn't he have a phone? - Because he had no way of knowing he'd break his foot. His damned foot.
He would not, could not ask Alma for a ride into town. Maybe he could ask her for a ride to the ranch? Tell her something about papers he had to bring his boss, about the accident? At the ranch he could ask for a ride home and stop at the phone booth. Only problem, he had already handed over the papers to the foreman when he had given him a lift home from hospital.
Ennis continued to agonize over the same problem for hours. He had more than enough time for it; nothing to do but stare at his GODDAMN FOOT.
Around noon his resolve broke and he took the crutches, pushed himself up and shuffled over to the chipped cabinet missing a door, but holding his whiskey. He took the bottle of Rooster's Harmony - what kind of name was that anyway - and tucked it in the front of his jeans before hobbling back. There were better things he would have liked to have this close to his crotch, things that always worked magic on him. Jack's hands, Jack's dick, Jack's backside. And his mouth, that talented, delicious mouth. Now there was some harmony all right. The best he could hope to get from the booze however was oblivion.
Or maybe not. Seemed the booze had given him hallucinations. That was something new, but as long as they were hallucinations of Jack Twist, he was glade to take them.
The next morning the hallucination was still there. It made Ennis doubt in what state of drunk he was. He felt like shit, his head was about to explode and the cotton in his mouth damn near choked him. When he tried to get up from his bed he only managed to vomit bile into a bucket standing in the right spot and fall back on the cushions. All of it were signs he wasn't drunk anymore, that much he knew from experience. Maybe this time he had gone off the deep end.
The hallucination said something which caused white flashes of pain in his head, but he couldn't understand what was being said.
“Whaddya doin here? Dinn't ge' ma card?” Ennis managed to croak out, causing more flashes and wincing from the pain.
“I did. Why I'm here. Came a little earlier, but just in time, looks like. You were in a bad state last night, friend, babbling about phones and calling me 'Hello Lucy' all the time. Who is Lucy, anyway?”
“'nation. 'lucy nation,” Ennis tried to explain, but the word didn't roll off his tongue.
“Ennis, did you take something? Anything besides the whiskey?”
“Painkillers. Gotta piss.”
An hour later Ennis had enough coffee in his system to think straight.
“Alma's coming over today.”
“Didn't think I was welcome to stay. Learned that lesson last time, so no worries. I'll be gone now. Just wanted to make sure you're all right.”
Jack's voice didn't even hold any viciousness. Only defeat.
“I'm sorry,” Ennis mumbled.
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Jack got up. “Don't mix painkillers with the booze anymore, bud. People have died from that, choking on their own puke. You barfed more last night than I thought possible.”
Ennis felt ashamed, realizing Jack must have cleaned up his vomit multiple times. “I'm sorry,” he repeated.
Jack took his bag. “Can't buy anything for sorry.”
“I didn't mean you have to go right now.”
“What else do you want? Wanna fuck before you send me on the road? Didn't think you could even get it up in the state you're in.”
“No. Yes. No. Fuck, that wasn't what I meant,” Ennis didn't say anything more, waiting for the white flashes to subside. “What then?” Jack prompted.
“You must be tired. Drove all day yesterday and stayed up the night. Don't drive like that. People have died from it, missing a curve in the road or something.”
Jack sat back down, bag still in his hand. He knew he was about to get on thin ice, so he chose his words carefully. “People die all the time, Ennis. They crash their trucks, they get kicked by a horse, they choke on their puke, they get cancer or heart attacks, and some get beaten to death.”
Ennis looked at him with bloodshot eyes, remaining silent.
“In the end, it doesn't matter how it happens or when it happens. What's important is how you live before it happens.”
Tentatively he took Ennis' hand and neither said a word. The silence stretched out for a couple of minutes, but it wasn't chilly or awkward. It held familiarity and intimacy. When Ennis didn't pull away his hand, Jack's thumb stroked its back and Ennis squeezed Jack's hand in return.
“Don't you want to see the ocean before you die?” Jack finally dared to ask.
“The ocean?” Ennis had never given it a thought.
“The ocean, the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls - anything. If you had a week to do whatever you please, what would you want to see?”
“Jack, you know me. All the traveling I'm doing is around the coffeepot, looking for the handle. I don't have the kind of money to go places. And I can't go riding in the mountains with my foot in a cast.”
“Humor me. Just imagine a genie showed up and you had a wish free.”
Ennis sighed. He knew Jack wouldn't let up before he had an answer. “The Grand Canyon.”
“If you knew I'd die on my way back to Texas, would you come to the Grand Canyon with me before? If it were my last wish?”
“Stop that shit, Jack. You'll rest some and drive carefully, and we'll make up for this trip next time. No one will die.”
“If I died on the way to the Grand Canyon with you, I'd die a happy man.” Jack knew he was pushing his luck. It was too much of a confession, probably more than Ennis could handle. But Ennis' words from last night were still on his mind. Words uttered and tears shed in a drunken stupor, between puking and passing out. About how much he missed him, how miserable his life was. He knew Ennis would never admit those things even to himself in the light of day. The only reason he had said those words was because he had thought Jack wasn't real, a mere hallucination conjured up by his drunken mind.
To his surprise, Ennis didn't blow up.
“Me too.”
Ennis' words were followed by more silence.
“How about we live some before we die? Guess what? We do have a week, and we could go to the Grand Canyon, go figure. We could also rent a cabin somewhere at a lake and do some fishing if you prefer. Wouldn't make a difference to your foot, it you sat by a lake with a pole in your hand instead of here. Some fresh air might even be better for the healing.”
“Let's go to bed, get some shut-eye,” Ennis avoided a direct answer, but Jack knew the wheels were turning in his head.
Settled closely in the small bed, Ennis indeed seemed set to sleep. He spooned Jack from behind, pulling him even closer, and kept his arm draped around him. No intention of letting him go. Not yet.
Just as his eyes closed, Jack heard a murmur.
“Thank you for coming.”
tbc tomorrow
Author: 27bluebirds
Word count: 1759
Genre: AU
Warnings: generous use of curse words (by Ennis. It's all his fault ;)
Disclaimer: Ennis and Jack belong to Annie Proulx. No money is made from it.
Summary: Cause: Ennis broke his foot
Effect: you'll have to read to know
A/N: I managed to use all eight prompts. Whoo-hoo! :)
I didn't want to bold them, so it wouldn't detract from the story. Here's the order I used them in : sunlight, nature, sex(uality, bent that one a bit), magic, harmony, life, healing, spirit(s). The last one is in the epilogue, which will be posted tomorrow.
Hope you enjoy!
A/N 2: The title is in memory of Heath, who directed a music video of the same name. Thank you, Heath, for Ennis.
Cause N Effect
Damn foot.
Ennis watched his foot and cursed it as if it had its own free will. As if it had decided to get broken just to piss him off. A full week with Jack in the mountains, the weather even played along, nothing but bright sunlight for the last two days and it was supposed to stay that way for the whole week. Jack hated the cold, his bitching and nagging sure could rub on Ennis' nerves. But not this time. This time everything could have been perfect. Warm weather, a whole week of enjoying nature, whiskey and sex.
Instead he was caught in this shack of a house, his foot put up on the only other chair he called his own, and all he could do was wait for it to heal. Which would take weeks, the doctors had said. His skin under the cast itched and Ennis took the wire hanger he had bent and used it for a good scratch. He had given up on torqueing it back already on the first day, figured he had more use for it that way.
Only thing he hoped was that Jack had gotten his postcard in time before he'd get ready to leave for Wyoming. In two days they were supposed to meet at Ginger Fork, right along the 191, and head into the Bridger-Teton Range. Every time he thought about it he cursed not having a phone. Why hadn't he called right away, instead of asking the foreman for a quick stop at the post office? Damn his foot and damn his stupidity.
It was nice of Alma to come around every other day and bring him whatever he needed, and a warm meal on top of that. Another plus was seeing his daughters so often, they always insisted to come along with their mom. But the friendliness offered to him was a double-edged sword, he payed for it by being forced to listen to her endless lectures. Fuck that misery voice of hers.
Fuck that foot. Fuck the warm weather, fuck the phone he didn't have and Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! if he'd ask her to drive him into town for a phone call. She'd know.
What would Jack do if he hadn't gotten the card in time and waited for him at Ginger Fork? How long would he wait? He'd stay the night and be pretty pissed. Ennis was sure Jack would wait at least one day. What then? He wouldn't come to Riverton again, not after what had happened that one time some years ago, after his divorce. He'd probably drive to his folks and find the postcard on his return to Texas. At least it would explain his absence, but Jack would be mad he hadn't called. Which brought Ennis' thoughts full circle. Why didn't he have a phone? - Because he had no way of knowing he'd break his foot. His damned foot.
He would not, could not ask Alma for a ride into town. Maybe he could ask her for a ride to the ranch? Tell her something about papers he had to bring his boss, about the accident? At the ranch he could ask for a ride home and stop at the phone booth. Only problem, he had already handed over the papers to the foreman when he had given him a lift home from hospital.
Ennis continued to agonize over the same problem for hours. He had more than enough time for it; nothing to do but stare at his GODDAMN FOOT.
Around noon his resolve broke and he took the crutches, pushed himself up and shuffled over to the chipped cabinet missing a door, but holding his whiskey. He took the bottle of Rooster's Harmony - what kind of name was that anyway - and tucked it in the front of his jeans before hobbling back. There were better things he would have liked to have this close to his crotch, things that always worked magic on him. Jack's hands, Jack's dick, Jack's backside. And his mouth, that talented, delicious mouth. Now there was some harmony all right. The best he could hope to get from the booze however was oblivion.
Or maybe not. Seemed the booze had given him hallucinations. That was something new, but as long as they were hallucinations of Jack Twist, he was glade to take them.
The next morning the hallucination was still there. It made Ennis doubt in what state of drunk he was. He felt like shit, his head was about to explode and the cotton in his mouth damn near choked him. When he tried to get up from his bed he only managed to vomit bile into a bucket standing in the right spot and fall back on the cushions. All of it were signs he wasn't drunk anymore, that much he knew from experience. Maybe this time he had gone off the deep end.
The hallucination said something which caused white flashes of pain in his head, but he couldn't understand what was being said.
“Whaddya doin here? Dinn't ge' ma card?” Ennis managed to croak out, causing more flashes and wincing from the pain.
“I did. Why I'm here. Came a little earlier, but just in time, looks like. You were in a bad state last night, friend, babbling about phones and calling me 'Hello Lucy' all the time. Who is Lucy, anyway?”
“'nation. 'lucy nation,” Ennis tried to explain, but the word didn't roll off his tongue.
“Ennis, did you take something? Anything besides the whiskey?”
“Painkillers. Gotta piss.”
An hour later Ennis had enough coffee in his system to think straight.
“Alma's coming over today.”
“Didn't think I was welcome to stay. Learned that lesson last time, so no worries. I'll be gone now. Just wanted to make sure you're all right.”
Jack's voice didn't even hold any viciousness. Only defeat.
“I'm sorry,” Ennis mumbled.
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Jack got up. “Don't mix painkillers with the booze anymore, bud. People have died from that, choking on their own puke. You barfed more last night than I thought possible.”
Ennis felt ashamed, realizing Jack must have cleaned up his vomit multiple times. “I'm sorry,” he repeated.
Jack took his bag. “Can't buy anything for sorry.”
“I didn't mean you have to go right now.”
“What else do you want? Wanna fuck before you send me on the road? Didn't think you could even get it up in the state you're in.”
“No. Yes. No. Fuck, that wasn't what I meant,” Ennis didn't say anything more, waiting for the white flashes to subside. “What then?” Jack prompted.
“You must be tired. Drove all day yesterday and stayed up the night. Don't drive like that. People have died from it, missing a curve in the road or something.”
Jack sat back down, bag still in his hand. He knew he was about to get on thin ice, so he chose his words carefully. “People die all the time, Ennis. They crash their trucks, they get kicked by a horse, they choke on their puke, they get cancer or heart attacks, and some get beaten to death.”
Ennis looked at him with bloodshot eyes, remaining silent.
“In the end, it doesn't matter how it happens or when it happens. What's important is how you live before it happens.”
Tentatively he took Ennis' hand and neither said a word. The silence stretched out for a couple of minutes, but it wasn't chilly or awkward. It held familiarity and intimacy. When Ennis didn't pull away his hand, Jack's thumb stroked its back and Ennis squeezed Jack's hand in return.
“Don't you want to see the ocean before you die?” Jack finally dared to ask.
“The ocean?” Ennis had never given it a thought.
“The ocean, the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls - anything. If you had a week to do whatever you please, what would you want to see?”
“Jack, you know me. All the traveling I'm doing is around the coffeepot, looking for the handle. I don't have the kind of money to go places. And I can't go riding in the mountains with my foot in a cast.”
“Humor me. Just imagine a genie showed up and you had a wish free.”
Ennis sighed. He knew Jack wouldn't let up before he had an answer. “The Grand Canyon.”
“If you knew I'd die on my way back to Texas, would you come to the Grand Canyon with me before? If it were my last wish?”
“Stop that shit, Jack. You'll rest some and drive carefully, and we'll make up for this trip next time. No one will die.”
“If I died on the way to the Grand Canyon with you, I'd die a happy man.” Jack knew he was pushing his luck. It was too much of a confession, probably more than Ennis could handle. But Ennis' words from last night were still on his mind. Words uttered and tears shed in a drunken stupor, between puking and passing out. About how much he missed him, how miserable his life was. He knew Ennis would never admit those things even to himself in the light of day. The only reason he had said those words was because he had thought Jack wasn't real, a mere hallucination conjured up by his drunken mind.
To his surprise, Ennis didn't blow up.
“Me too.”
Ennis' words were followed by more silence.
“How about we live some before we die? Guess what? We do have a week, and we could go to the Grand Canyon, go figure. We could also rent a cabin somewhere at a lake and do some fishing if you prefer. Wouldn't make a difference to your foot, it you sat by a lake with a pole in your hand instead of here. Some fresh air might even be better for the healing.”
“Let's go to bed, get some shut-eye,” Ennis avoided a direct answer, but Jack knew the wheels were turning in his head.
Settled closely in the small bed, Ennis indeed seemed set to sleep. He spooned Jack from behind, pulling him even closer, and kept his arm draped around him. No intention of letting him go. Not yet.
Just as his eyes closed, Jack heard a murmur.
“Thank you for coming.”
tbc tomorrow