It was black for a long time. And it's still dark, and the air should be warm, smelling like canvas and sweat and horse and old leather, but instead he's cold, and huddles down, curling into himself to get warm again. Instead of wiry grass against his skin, there's only a firm softness, and he stretches one arm out to pull Lureen
(Ennis)closer
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"I've never been one to turn down a pretty face. -- They did a number on yours, didn't they?"
Desire's golden eyes swim into view, mouth shut against a cigarette as he draws the smoke in.
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"Shit!"
He pushes himself to the edge of the bed, staring into the dim room. The glowing cigarette tip makes him squint, but he doesn't rise to the jibe in Desire's voice.
Anger almost drowns out the panic in his voice.
"Fuck're you doing here?"
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"Still, if you don't want a friendly face..."
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He looks back up at Desire, uncomprehending.
"The fuck am I?" and it could be where, could be who, could be a fair many things, but Jack Twist, not yet twenty years old, is for once at a loss for words.
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Still, it's less something sexual predatory in his odd-colored eyes than concern, and the seat Desire's picked is rather close to the edge... Awful easy to get back up if Jack doesn't seem too keen on company.
"So tell me, Jack. What do you want?"
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"Now that's a hell of a question," he chuckles, and he almost sounds amused. Glancing over at Desire, he grins, without humor.
"Ain't like I ever got fuck-all, whether I wanted it or not." His pulse is racign and thready in his throat, and though he's keeping his voice steady, there's a distinct rasp of breath beneath it. His shoulders remain tense and hunched.
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"We've known each other a good while, haven't we?"
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His whole body is thrumming with energy, and he wants to fight, to jump up, to yell, to--
He hasn't felt this good in twenty years.
He hasn't felt this shit in almost as long.
"Somethin ain't right," he mutters, but it's low and he can feel himself easing under Desire's touch.
"Yeah. Long time."
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The scent of peaches and tobacco and the warmth of the other man might be reassuring in this cold: Something familiar to hang on to, something that isn't leaving poor Jack alone in the dark.
Someone else that knows what Jack's been chasing his whole life.
"Long enough that I hope you know I don't mean you any harm."
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"You there, too?" Watching, on the sidelines. Maybe Desire'd come along with hisherit's big sister.
Maybe Jack just hopes he wasn't alone in the dark.
As he closes his eyes, he takes a deep breath. Damn, he'd hated that scent, of peaches and the weird spices Desire uses in hisherits cigarettes, but damn if it isn't kinda good to have them here again, surrounding him.
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Still, Desire just shrugs, noncommital as his arm slips around to rest against Jack's side, holding the man in a loose half-hug.
"'M here now. That counts for something, doesn't it?" And Desire is here, and damned if it isn't feeling like Desire sees Jack as the only guy in the world.
(And isn't that what Jack wanted?)
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but how can that be true, if Desire is Desire and how can his own wants cheat him?
--but either way he leans into the warmth next to him, his eyes open. The idea of sleep
(if I die before I wake)
brushes loosely across his mind and he ignores it, too keyed up to feel the tiredness that he knows is there.
"So where'm I?" he mumbles after a long while during which he'd moved a little closer, relaxed a little further.
"This ain't...where I was." Or when he was. But who's keeping an eye on the details?
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Desire gives a little nudge with the shoulder Jack's leaning on, rolling the man's head a little closer in.
If Desire were Jack's type, this would be kissing distance.
If he wanted it.
"And now you get to choose where you go next."
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And it can't be said that Jack ain't interested, because for a minute, there's a gleam in the blue eyes that mirrors the heat of golden ones, before they fall, and he shrugs.
"Don't know what you mean. Ain't got much of a place to go. Feel like I been dreamin, stuck. And then, bere I am."
He snorts a laugh.
"Momma believed in Heaven 'n Hell. Always figured I'd be marchin right off to the second one when the time came."
There's a silence, and the humor drains out of his face as he glances up, quickly.
"Guess this is it, huh?"
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And like that, the hand not resting on Jack's side is tracing the line of the man's throat with a knuckle, not ticklish but slow and promissory.
"You've got everywhere to go. What do you want? Heaven? Hell? Another life? Another chance?"
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He lifts his head, slightly, feeling the warm blood following the line of Desire's finger.
"Another chance," he says, slow and thoughtful. It isn't an answer, exactly.
"Guess you already know what I want." As he looks, Desire's eyes flash hazel, bright even in this dim room. Past the scent of peach and spices, he can smell sweat and grass and horses, and Ennis, and the want burns even brighter, lighting him from the inside--a fire to push away the cold.
He feels fine. He feels fine. And he sure as hell ain't gonna think to hard on how he should be feeling (or how he shouldn't by rights be feeling anything at all) for a long while, or at least not till he's gotten a few stiff drinks into him.
For now, he pushes it aside and leans into Desire.
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