'Go Fish' - Part Two.
Title: Go Fish, Part Two.
Author: louisestrange
Subject: Jack and Ennis are reunited four years after Brokeback, but Ennis’ conscience get’s in the way of Jack’s plans. Let the angst continue.
Disclaimer: These characters are the intellectual property of Annie Proulx and I will never, ever, profit in any way from writing about them. Ever.
Rating: R or NC-17. A little language, little sexual content…still not sure of these ratings.
Author's Note: Second part of my first attempt at BBM fic - a longer one this time and it’s now looking like this will be around 10 Parts long, posting one part per week. Thanks to everyone who read and commented on Part One, hope you won’t be disappointed by this installment. Keep the comments coming :)
Read Part One Here.
Go Fish - Part Two.
Jack Twist stepped on grass wet from the stormy day before, felt boot heels sinking into mud, let out a sigh as he slipped his hat back onto his head and laid a hand on a denim hip, silently surveying his surroundings. High on the mountain now, what was barely a mountain, no Brokeback, but still, they were up behind trees and far enough away from the rest of the world to breathe right again in each other’s company. Ennis was unloading their camping gear from the back of the pick up, hauling canvas bags to the earth, contents thudding and clattering as he did.
The journey had continued in perfect silence; Ennis trying to, then trying harder not to, think about the difference between what he wants and what he’s got; and Jack, feeling like a crazy fool, wondering why he’d let himself get carried away with fantasies of him and Ennis, why he’d ever got his hopes up, and wondering why he’d gotten so angry at Ennis for trying to do right by his wife and kids instead of him.
Jack had never thought much about taking a wife, knew before Ennis came along which side of the track he was on, but knew just as well that that life would be no kind of life at all. Least he used to know, not now.
When Lureen came along, keen on him as she was, made Jack get to thinking that a man like him should take love any way he found it. He had himself a habit of jumping right into things, heart or dick first, could think on it later. Marriage felt right then, in a way; no point waiting and wondering. It was what she wanted, would keep his own parents happy too. His father-in-law hated his guts, came free and easy with cheap insults, but that was nothing he wasn’t used to from his own Daddy; least L.D. had given him a job and helped them with a nice little house, allowed him to quit the rodeo - no life for a man with a wife, L.D’d said - so no more busted bones for the sake of a few bucks. Seemed a fair exchange for a better life than the one he’d been living.
He’d thought, somewhere deep inside himself, that living this kind of life for just long enough might be the thing to change him; that a real pretty wife might stop his eye wandering in the wrong direction. Never did, but he was lucky, he guessed, compared to some.
“Could use a hand here, bud, if ya ain’t too busy there.” Ennis, sarcastic son of a bitch, brought a smile back to Jack’s lips with this; made him turn around on his sinking heel and walk towards the back of the pick-up, spark of a smile shining back at him from Ennis as he lifted a bag and slung it over his shoulder, lifting his sinking spirit too.
They set up camp in familiar style, mumbling directions and harmless insults to one another as they went; they’d done this together so often, never mind the gap in time, that it came as easy as what they’d been doing the night before. “Best go get some wood for a fire tonight,” Jack offered, tilting his head towards the trees a hundred yards or so back, squinting his eyes to see in the still-bright sun. Ennis nodded a reply and they both stood there for a quiet moment, Jack breaking another uneasy silence with, “Well, you wanna come help?” and Ennis gave his answer in actions by following him across the grass, falling into step beside him. Jack ached to say something but no words came; didn’t want to start Ennis off again, knew the words could wait.
Soon as a ring was on her finger, Lureen knew what she wanted and Jack’d made his vow to try to give it to her. Nine months on, she had herself a baby boy, just like that; grandson for L.D. and Jack knew then that all he had was an unsatisfactory situation. Once Bobby’d been born he’d served his purpose, knew that soon as the cord was cut. Eight months of being invisible, hardly allowed to see his own son; Lureen spent most nights in Bobby’s bedroom, or cross-town with her parents. Jack found other ways to occupy his time, ways he wasn’t proud of. Knew then, for sure, that this life would never be what he wanted, couldn’t ever change himself and couldn’t ask for anyone else to do that for him either. Only one person knew him really as he was, knew him inside and out, in all manners of speaking, and that was Ennis. Postcard in the mail and a few weeks later, here he was.
They collected wood dry enough for a fire, brightness fading as the sun disappeared behind thick cloud when they came back to camp. They set up the firewood and sat beside it unlit, decided not to light it just yet, saving it to last the cold night that lay ahead, neither knowing if they’d have the other to rely on for warmth. Jack rested his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands for a second, and said “Y’know, friend, I got no fishin’ gear here with us. Realise you wanted’a go fishin’ an’ all, but I wasn’t expectin’ a need it,” he shrugged his shoulders, took off his hat and rested his eyes on Ennis before continuing, “you still ain’t sayin’ much and hell, I know you ain’t always in the mood for that but seems like we gotta find us a plan if we ain’t gonna be fishin’, talkin’ or fuckin’ up here. What you got in mind, cowboy?”
Ennis wanted to punch him then, just for stating the obvious and for the fact that he had no answer. He clenched his fists in his lap, stared hard into the firewood for a time, decided he needed a drink more than just about anything right then and grabbed the quart bottle of whiskey from the bag at his side, twisted the cap, took a slug and looked up, blue eyes still on him. That what this was, he felt like asking him back, he just worried about not getting to fuck? Ennis knew that wasn’t true and knew he’d never say it when, truth be told, that was what he himself wanted, not just the fucking but everything that went along with it. Just hearing Jack say the word quickened his pulse and made his cock twitch to life.
“I dunno,” he swallowed hard and shook his head a little, tight lips hiding what could’ve been a smile, “Drink?” he suggested, offering Jack the whiskey.
“Stubborn son of a bitch, Ennis Del Mar, know that?” Jack said, almost laughing, accepted the bottle, took more than a normal swig and gave it right back, wiping wet lips on the back of his hand then grabbing a log from the not-yet-fire to poke the dirt underfoot with, sad smile fading fast. “Answer me something else then Ennis, you wish I hadn’a sent that postcard?”
“What kinda question’s that now, Jack?”
“Okay then, d’you wish you’d never worked up on Brokeback that summer? You wish now, knowin’ all you know’ about your life, that Aguirre’d given that job to someone else?” Jack’s voice was soft as he asked this, question he’d asked himself a number of times but never once felt he regretted it, life was cruel and fucked up regardless of regrets and so he had none; especially not Ennis, not even Lureen.
Ennis sighed and blinked hard before answering, fidgeting where he sat, clutching the whiskey bottle tight in his fist. “That summer was the best time I ever had in my whole life, Jack. Feel ashamed o’ that fact, but I know I sure don’t regret it. Plenty other regrets besides, but too late to do a damn thing ‘bout ‘em now.” He took another quick shot of the whiskey and handed it back to Jack, fingers touching then as the exchange was made, sending a familiar charge through them both, eyes meeting too, and then it was gone with the loss of contact, quick as it’d come.
Jack pulled the bottle back to his mouth, drunk slowly letting it linger, tasting Ennis’s spit on it, smoky-sweet. He felt the fire from the whiskey in him, sending twin bolts of warmth through his body; all at once it was up into his head, flushing his cheeks, hazing the world around him whilst at the same time it travelled down through his chest and empty belly, further still until it rested achingly in his groin. This, coupled with a second’s skin to skin contact and a few words - not special words, but words he wanted to hear all the same, words he knew coming from Ennis held deep layers of meaning he might take a lifetime to figure out - and he was ready to open himself up and let Ennis crawl inside him whole if he felt inclined to.
“Least ya don’t regret it, means somethin’ hearin’ that, friend, truly does.” Jack held the whiskey out for Ennis to take again, lower this time, not looking directly at him as he did. Bottle accepted, Jack let his hand fall onto Ennis’s thigh, let it rest there a minute, felt the muscle underhand stiffen, nerve-tight - couldn’t help wonder, then, if that was all that might be stiffening - and allowed himself a squeeze; run his hand up a little, thumb rubbing back and forth over coarse jeans and Jack finally let himself look at him, saw Ennis’s eyes downcast, gazing thoughtfully at his hand where it lay, new home in his lap with no plans on moving it unless he had to, and Jack took no objection as acceptance; slid himself a little closer, squeezed the denim coated thigh tighter, higher still and leaned into Ennis, felt him tremble a little, not sure of he was nervous and excited, like yesterday; or just cold, like four years ago.
“What we gonna do?” Ennis asked him sadly, hurt and more in his eyes. He laid his hand on top of Jack’s and held it there as he asked again, “What are we gonna do?”
Jack placed his free hand on Ennis’s cheek, stroking light stubble, pulling their faces closer together. “I know what we could do, Ennis, if’n you were willin’.” Faces so close, then, that Ennis could feel Jack’s moist breath on his face, smell the fresh-drunk whiskey on it.
Soft lips found Ennis’s hard, too hard for him to resist so he stopped trying and let it happen, no denying he wanted it to and he was here now, anyway. Jack’s hand slipped further still to cup the bulge of his balls through tight jeans and stroked til Ennis felt like his pants might burst at the seems. Buckle quickly undone, zipper down, his cock met the cool air and Jack’s warm hand all at once, making him moan a little; a low, rasping sound as Jack set to work on him, knew just what to do.
Jack’s teeth drew out Ennis’ bottom lip as they pulled apart, hand still working, a smile passing between them then, and Ennis gave into temptation, took the chance to ask, “Mind if’n we move this on into the tent?” and so they did, barely losing contact with each other as they went, Ennis first, trying to squeeze himself back into his jeans uselessly.
“You feeling bashful now all’a sudden?” Jack asked, fire in him blazing now, and he following Ennis into the tent, belt undone and pants down before he knelt behind him, hard cock against soft ass as he kissed and nipped at his neck from behind and released Ennis from his jeans again, pushing them down to his knees, aiming to finish what had been started.
***************************
“It could be like this, you an’ me. Work t’gether, sleep t’gether…”
“Don’t remember ever getting much sleepin’ done wi’ you ‘round, Jack an’ that’s the truth” Ennis was on his back, propped up on one elbow inside the tent, cigarette in hand, jeans still halfway between his knees and ankles.
Jack smiled and sat up, raised his hips and eased, soft now and sticky-wet, back into his jeans. “You know I’m bein’ serious here, friend, could be real sweet. Told you, Lureen’s Daddy done offered me cash money to make m’self scarce, tho’ not in s’many words. Start up a little ranch somewhere…”
Ennis made to say something in protest, but Jack stopped him before he could. “Hush now an’ let me say this, I know I sound like a damn fool to you Ennis, but fuck it, know you sure’s hell won’t ever say nothin’ if I don’t try to.” Ennis kept quiet, Jack lay flat on his back, reached hand up into Ennis’s sweat-damp hair.
“I don’t wanna jus’ do this ev’ry four fucking years Ennis. This past four been long ‘nough and I done tried t’do ev’rythin’ I could to forget and make a life away from Brokeback. Didn’t work, friend, not for me. Not for you either, I’m thinkin’.” Jack tugged a little on Ennis’s hair so that he’d look at him as he spoke. “Now, I ain’t stupid an’ I know we ain’t about to run away t’gether like kids, but I’m tellin’ you now, Ennis Del Mar, we could have a good life, if’n you’d be willin’ a’give it some thought.”
“Two men, Jack, like us…how you see that ever hap’ning?” Ennis shook his head, “Sides from that, we both gone and had kids, love my li’l girls, so’s not jus’ ourselves to think on anymore, like that or not, it’s a fact you gotta face.”
Jack’s thin patience had been fleshed out by sex; he didn’t want an argument, not again. “People get divorced all the time, Ennis. Daddy’s move away and see kids at weekends, shit, I wish my Daddy had left my Momma an’ me alone, mighta not had such a miserable fuckin’ life. You want your girls t’see you an’ Alma fightin’? Daddy all frustrated and sad? An’ don’t tell me it ain’t like that already, friend.”
Ennis kept quiet for a few seconds, finishing his cigarette and sitting up to throw it out of the tent.
“I ain’t sayin’ it’d be easy, but we take some time, make some plans an’ it could happen. No one’d ever know we queer, could say we’s cousins or some shit. Say you’ll think on it Ennis, gimme somethin’ here, I don’t want my life the way it is no more.”
“I ain’t no queer, Jack, you might be but don’t ever say that I am.”
“Sure’s hell seem queer when I’m ‘round, friend, ain’t that queer ‘nough?”
Ennis let out a grunt and sat bolt upright, fastened his pants and left the tent.
“Damn queer, cowardly, grumpy-ass son of a bitch!” Jack yelled from the tent, still on his back. He reached down and buttoned his jeans too, didn’t feel right to be laying there indecently exposed when they were fighting.
No sign or sound from Ennis for a good few minutes, Jack felt he should be angry or worried but couldn’t muster it up. He felt too tired now, and hungry and so went outside, felt a cool breeze blowing and saw fit to start the fire. No Ennis around, but the whiskey’d gone too, so Jack knew he wouldn’t be far-off. Didn’t think he stood much of a chance of getting anywhere, anyhow, with no horse, no truck and a sore ass. Jack let the fire get going and explored the contents of the bag they’d left behind, thinking of fixing some kind of supper, early though it was, to settle his stomach and give him strength for whatever else might come tonight.
*********************
Jack had fallen asleep by the fire after eating, still tired from all the driving and bed-jouncing that’d been done in the last couple of days. Ennis came back to camp, hadn’t been far away, sitting and thinking and drinking just a few feet up the hill, little sore that Jack hadn’t come looking for him. Drunk and hungry, now, chill in his bones, he’d been attracted back by the warmth of the fire and the smell of whatever Jack had been cooking on it. Some kinda meat from a tin, damn beans, too but he was too hungry to be fussy and set the pan Jack’d left aside back on the flame and waited for it to heat, staring at Jack as he did, meaning to wake him with just the weight of his eyes.
He took another hit from the nearly empty whiskey bottle, Jack still asleep. Ennis knew he wasn’t thinking right by the kind of thoughts he’d been having. Hell with it, he thought, and moved over to where Jack lay propped against a rough log, hands still in his pockets as he slept, lips slightly parted but no sound coming from them.
“Jack…Jack,” he repeated and prodded a flannel shoulder.
Jack blinked awake and licked his lips, didn’t make to move other than that.
“I been thinkin’…”
“You been drinkin’ friend, any o’ that damn whiskey left?” Jack interrupted him, hands out of his pockets now, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.
“Let me say this ‘for I come to my senses.” Ennis said, and Jack stopped to look at him, still sleep-hazy but intrigued by this statement.
“I been thinkin’ that m’be you right. Chance we could set up a place, always wanted to, why not t’gether? Me an’ Alma, it ain’t fair on her, she’s a good girl, could do h’rself better’n me.”
Jack blinked at him disbelievingly, “This whiskey talk like last night Ennis? You gonna change your mind again in the mornin’?”
“Ain’t whiskey talk, Jack, I swear…” he leaned towards him and put a hand on his face, rubbed his thumb over Jack’s lips. “I ain’t makin’ no promises, but it tore me up so bad last time you left. Thought it was jus’ me who felt that way when I never heard from ya again. I don’t wan’ it t’be like that this time.”
“It don’t have t’be, Ennis…”
“You come at me like a lightenin’ bolt w’this and hit twice as hard, Jack. All I’m askin’, give me some time to set things out with Alma, an’ we’ll see. All I can say on the matter.”
Ennis brought the whiskey bottle to his lips again and finished the last amber drops of it. Jack watched him in silence for a moment, sat up and leaned forward, brought their faces close again.
“You sayin’ you’re willin’ a’try, Ennis? You wanna a life with a queer like me?” Jack didn’t wait for an answer, kissed him instead, but Ennis pulled back, answered anyway, “You ain’t any more queer’n I am.” Ennis kissed back then, shifted to lay on top of Jack, speaking in actions that had always come to him easier than words.
The food Ennis had set on the flame to heat sparked and spat as they both rolled beside the fire, a hunger in them both now stronger than hunger for food; an emptiness inside each of them more urgent than a hungry belly. They let the pan on the fire burn as they did some sparking and spitting of their own; supper be damned.