The space between Sallie's ranch on Shadow and the Milliways lake ain't exactly traversable by ship--even disregarding the time difference, it's just too damn far, years and a universe away.
It took Jack all of a minute, maybe less--two more to make sure there's no familiar hat by the fire or at the bar. There ain't--and there's only a couple more places he can check.
It's on his way to the stables that he sees the little coil of smoke, smells tobacco burning and catches sight of a hunched up back and long rangy legs and that beat-up hat, and for once, Jack Twist is completely fuckin' speechless.
Ennis don't see him, he don't even hear him. For right now, all he's got is his smoke, his hat, and the sky. And he don't even mind it that way, at least as much as he don't mind anything here.
He shifts a little, taking the hat off and putting it next to him before leaning back on his elbows.
It's too damn cold out here and Jack ain't got his coat or a smoke or nothin' anymore--but the grass crunches underneath his bootheels as he makes his way over, walking as quick as he can without running.
And, hit--it's that old familiar shirt and the tan hat and when he reaches down there's a warm shoulder under his hand. He grabs onto the material and pulls.
There's a moment while Ennis don't know who the voice belongs to, or why it's talkin' to him like that, but that moment don't last two long, and he pulls himself up from the ground, dropping his cigarette in the damp grass and throwin' himself at Jack in something that's like a hug, but maybe more like a punch.
Fuck, he feels and smells and moves like Ennis, 'cause when Jack pushes back it's just it always was, all fight. One hand's scrabbling at Ennis' back, the other one's gone up to grab the back of his neck, and it sure as hell looks like they're about to fall right back over. Someone's laughing, and it takes Jack a second to realize that it's him.
"Took your sweet time," he says, because he never could stop talking, but then there's Ennis' face and Jack kisses him.
"Shit," Ennis echoes, and he ain't even really sure he's got more'n that one thought in that empty head of his, 'cause it's all he can think, over and over again. That, and Jack.
Who he didn't even figure wanted to see him, hanging out at some fuckin' godforsaken ranch in another universe, Jack.
"Shit."
Their kiss is sweet and salty, and he can't figure out how to get his arms away from Jack's, but he can't really bring himself to care.
His hand fits just so against the crags and planes of Ennis' face, and blood thunders through him, and when Jack finally pulls away again, he's still laughing and the blue eyes are a little brighter than normal.
"Jesus, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes. And who'd ever think I'd say that about your ugly face, huh?"
"What, just 'cause I weren't waitin' around at the bar? Sallie's got chores need to be done, y'know--"
But, shit it's so good to see and hear him again. His hand's gone all shaky against Ennis' worn shirt. He runs his eyes over the familiar face, and then his brows furrow in confusion.
"Well, shit. That son of a bitch Desire sure did right by you."
It took Jack all of a minute, maybe less--two more to make sure there's no familiar hat by the fire or at the bar. There ain't--and there's only a couple more places he can check.
It's on his way to the stables that he sees the little coil of smoke, smells tobacco burning and catches sight of a hunched up back and long rangy legs and that beat-up hat, and for once, Jack Twist is completely fuckin' speechless.
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He shifts a little, taking the hat off and putting it next to him before leaning back on his elbows.
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And, hit--it's that old familiar shirt and the tan hat and when he reaches down there's a warm shoulder under his hand. He grabs onto the material and pulls.
"Get the fuck up, you goddamn son of a bitch."
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Fuck, he feels and smells and moves like Ennis, 'cause when Jack pushes back it's just it always was, all fight. One hand's scrabbling at Ennis' back, the other one's gone up to grab the back of his neck, and it sure as hell looks like they're about to fall right back over. Someone's laughing, and it takes Jack a second to realize that it's him.
"Took your sweet time," he says, because he never could stop talking, but then there's Ennis' face and Jack kisses him.
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Who he didn't even figure wanted to see him, hanging out at some fuckin' godforsaken ranch in another universe, Jack.
"Shit."
Their kiss is sweet and salty, and he can't figure out how to get his arms away from Jack's, but he can't really bring himself to care.
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"Jesus, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes. And who'd ever think I'd say that about your ugly face, huh?"
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"Shit, asshole, you're supposed to be -- I don't know where the fuck you're supposed to be."
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But, shit it's so good to see and hear him again. His hand's gone all shaky against Ennis' worn shirt. He runs his eyes over the familiar face, and then his brows furrow in confusion.
"Well, shit. That son of a bitch Desire sure did right by you."
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The name, that much he knows. But past that...
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But now he's frowning in earnest. "You know, yellow eyes? Gold lighter? Fuck, Ennis, he ain't easy to forget."
But now he's got a better look since Ennis pulled away, and the old ranch hand looks...well...
Young.
Jack's hands drop--or one does, the other stays on Ennis' (young, strong) shoulder. "Well, shit."
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"Saw'm earlier."
Don't mean a whole lot to him, though; Jack's got him more worried.
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He tries a smile--it twists but lights his face a little. "And here you are."
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Back.
Jack said it. That old lady said it. Ennis shakes his head and frowns.
"Here I am."
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A wide grin begins to spread across Jack's face--he couldn't stop it if he'd tried. "Here you fuckin' are. Jesus."
And just because he can, he pulls them together again, chests bumping, boots stepping on each other.
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There's missed you, and how the hell you been, and jesus fuckin' christ, but those aren't things he needs to say out loud.
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