FIC Repost: Western Lovers: Cowboys & Biologists (7/34)
Title: Western Lovers: Cowboys and Biologists <7/31>
Author:sassywitch
Beta the patient and talented charlieisagirl
Pairing: OB/DW
Rating: NC-17 for the series, PG-13 this chapter.
Summary: David is a hard, jaded warrior, Orlando is a biologist tracking Big Cats on the Double L.
Feedback: Feedback is my writers crack, which is not to be confused at all with plumbers crack.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. These men whilst adorable and perfectly happy to slash themselves, their actual relationship is something that they only know. This story is adapted from a series of books that I adored when I was younger written by Elizabeth Lowell.
Word Count: 2587
Previous Story: Can be found here
Previous Ordaisy chapter: As suggested by mystery_ink can be found here
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5| Chapter 6
Posted to: fellowshippers, monaboyd and ordaisy
Header Art: Courtesy of the incredibly talented loki_girl.
Author’s Notes: Thank you to everyone who has pushed and prodded me into working on this. Special thanks to Dylan_dufresne.
~*~*~*~*~*
“Baby, give them to me,” Orlando coaxed.
Baby moved to just beyond Orlando’s reaching fingers. Yellow eyes gleamed with unmistakable mischief. From either side of Baby’s long muzzle dangled David’s socks. Plainly the wolf had no intention of giving up his prize.
Orlando made a sudden grab. Baby danced backward and half-crouched, his muzzle on his front paws, his hind quarters in the air, his tail waving in delight at having suckered his master into playing with him.
David looked up from stacking firewood next to the hearth where the heat could dry out wood newly brought in from the snow.
“Good thing I have extra socks,” David said. “Look’s like that pair is a goner.”
“Baby knows better, at least with my socks,” Orlando said, exasperated. “Guess he figures yours were fair game. Baby, drop.”
Yellow eyes met chocolate ones for a long moment. With a startlingly human look of disappointment, Baby opened his mouth. Socks dropped to the floor, no worse for the time spent in a wolf’s jaws. Orlando picked up the socks, tossed them in David’s direction, and rubbed both hands through Baby’s thick neck fur, praising him for giving up his prize. Baby burrowed into Orlando’s touch in return, stroking himself against Orlando like a huge cat, plainly enjoying the physical contact.
David watched through hooded eyes, oddly moved by the sight of the big, frankly savage-looking beast being petted by a man who weighed less than the animal did and was considerably less well equipped to defend himself. As Orlando buried his face in the wolf’s fur, it didn’t seem to occur to him that those long jaws and steel muscles could tear him apart.
You’re a fool, Orlando Bloom. A sweet, naïve, trusting fool, but a fool just the same. You trust too much. You trust me too much.
Baby made a sound that was a cross between a chesty growl and a throaty yap as he crouched again, waving his tail, vibrating with a desperate need for energetic play after being penned up by the storm. Orlando laughed and shoved against Baby with both hands, sending him skidding across the smooth wooden floor. With a powerful scrambling of legs and scratching of nearly sheathed claws, Baby stopped his backward motion and romped towards Orlando, who was braced on hands and knees, waiting for Baby’s charge. Instead of running into Orlando head-on, Baby turned at the last instant, buffeting Orlando with his shoulder instead.
If Orlando hadn’t been prepared, he would have been bowled over, but this was an old game for the two of them. Orlando gave as good as he got, throwing his weight behind his shoulder as Baby raced by, sending him scrambling for purchase on the slick wood floor. Orlando barely had a chance to recover his own balance before Baby was back for more. He survived a few more glancing passes before Baby’s greater strength and co-ordination sent him rolling.
Instantly Baby pivoted, scrambled for traction and started after his laughing master. Orlando had just enough time to brace himself again before more than a hundred and forty pounds of muscle and fur bounded into him. Orlando shoved hard against Baby, knowing he was going to go spinning again but determined to give Baby a good tussle.
Before Baby’s shoulder could connect with Orlando, he was lifted and set down behind David. The wolf hit him instead. Two strong hands shoved hard against steel muscles and thick fur. Baby went spinning and sliding across the cabin floor. He recovered, gave David a look of glittering delight, and came full tilt across the cabin floor toward the men.
This time David waited on all fours as Orlando had. Muscular shoulder met muscular shoulder; Baby rebounded and went sliding and scrambling across the floor. When Baby regained his balance, he gave David a laughing, long-tongued grin and charged once more, holding back nothing of his strength as he had earlier in the game with Orlando.
“You’re in for it now, David,” Orlando crowed breathlessly. “Baby hasn’t had a decent wrestling match since Mark broke his arm, so Baby’s loaded for bear - and with that sleek, sexy beard, you’re looking like bear to him.”
Just as David turned to ask who Mark was, Baby sprang. David went down in a tangle of arms, furry legs and waving black tail. Laughing hard at David’s comeuppance, trying to catch his breath at the same time, Orlando sank onto his bed and applauded while wolf and warrior romped.
And a romp it was. David and Baby careened off ice chest and walls, supply sacks and packsaddle, firewood and empty water bucket. The room became a shambles of its former neat condition. Yet no matter how fast or exciting the wrestling became, both wolf and warrior kept their individual weapons carefully sheathed. Fangs never sank into flesh, nor did steel fingers gouge. Claws might rake the floor, but nothing else. Unarmed combat tactics remained unused.
Finally David wrestled baby to the floor and pinned him there, both of them breathing hard. The wolf relaxed, baring his throat and belly to the warrior, accepting the end of the game. David shook Baby gently by the scruff, spoke to him calmly and released him. Baby sprang up, shook himself thoroughly, and stood panting and grinning up at David. The left side of David’s mouth kicked up slightly, the wolf’s head in his hands, rubbing the base of the erect ears and smoothing the thick fur.
“You’re one hell of a fighter, old man.” David said quietly.
Baby’s head turned. Big jaws gently closed over David’s right hand, then released him.
“That’s meant to reassure you,” Orlando explained in a soft voice. “It’s a wolf’s kiss. Wolves aren’t quite the same as dogs. They require different things from their friends, whether four-footed or two.”
“What should I do to reassure him in return?”
“You already have.”
“How?”
“You accepted his surrender, let him go with his dignity intact, and then praised him with your touch and your voice.” Orlando paused thoughtfully. “You read Baby very well, David. Have you ever worked with undomesticated animals?”
“All my life.”
“Really? What kind?”
“Men.”
Orlando started to laugh before he realized that there was more truth than humor in what David said. Then he laughed anyway, a bittersweet and very human laughter, accepting what could not be changed in the nature of man and beast.
“Maybe if men had their signals of dominance and submission as well worked out as wolves,” Orlando said, “there would be fewer wars.”
“I suspect we had our signals straight once. Then we went and got all civilized and sent it all to hell.”
David stood and stretched. His glance fell on the upside-down water bucket, the packsaddle standing on end, and other signs of the romp. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly.
“Looks like I have my work cut out for me before we go cat hunting,” David said.
Orlando’s breath caught. He smiled brilliantly and said in a husky voice, “Thank you.”
David gave him a sideways glance. “For not leaving you to clean up the mess?”
“No,” Orlando said, dismissing the room with a wave of his hand. “For staying here one more day. I know you think I’m insane for worrying about you, but I’m not. Spring, especially in cold country, is the hardest season on animals. No matter how strong you are, the huge temperature swings stress your body. I’ve seen flu turn into pneumonia…” Orlando’s voice rasped, almost broke and then steadied. “Anyway if you had ridden off today I would have worried. Now I’ll know where you are and if your fever really is gone.”
“And if I’ve managed to stay on top of Brego this time?” David asked dryly.
Orlando’s laugh was as soft as the dusky curls that bounced around his face. He started to speak but could think of nothing to say but the truth.
“I’m glad you’re staying, David. Not just for my peace of mind either. Even with fresh snow, no wind, and Baby’s nose, finding cougars out there won’t be easy. I suspect you’re a good tracker.”
“I get by.”
The buried drawl in David’s voice told Orlando that he was amused by something. Orlando smiled slightly. “I’ll just bet you do. You don’t miss much do you?”
“No.”
Orlando didn’t need to be told anymore. David had lived on the razor edge of awareness for so long that he had forgotten there was any other way to live.
“I’ll put your skills to work every chance I get,” Orlando said. “There’s so little time.”
“I heard you’d be here ‘til the end of the season. At least, I heard the government cat expert would be here. That’s you, isn’t it?”
“After a fashion, but probably there will be more than one cat expert coming and going. My grant money is private, administered through the university at Boulder, but I’m working in conjunction with a federal study of cougars. The whole study will cover a decade. My part will last only as long as the tracking snows do, unless I find a female that’s denned up with cubs. Then I might be able to stretch things for a few more months.”
David bent over, righted the packsaddle with an easy motion and asked, “What is your part?”
“A feasibility study.”
“Of what?”
“Whether it’s possible to monitor cougars without drugging them, putting on bulky radio collars, and then turning the cats loose to lead a supposedly normal life.”
“Yeah, I always wondered how many animals the scientists lost that way,” David said dryly. “Drugs are tricky things, especially with cats. As for the radio collars…”
He shrugged, bent over a bedroll and began putting it back together with the smooth, efficient motions of a man who has done a task so often he no longer has to think about it. Orlando worked alongside David, watching him from the corners of his eyes, fascinated by David’s unconscious grace and his casual acceptance of his own physical strength.
“What about the radio collars?” Orlando asked, realizing that David had stopped talking and was watching Orlando watch him.
“I’m no specialist,” David said, looking away from Orlando, straightening a blanket with a casual snap of his wrist, “But I’ve noticed one thing about animals. If there’s anything different about an animal, the others shun him. Or they attack him. Makes me wonder if anyone has thought about that when they wrap a few pounds of radio collar around a wild animal and turn it loose. Then the specialists come back every few days or weeks in a helicopter or a small plane and buzz the hell out of the local wildlife trying to track down the radio collar’s signal.”
“Somebody around here must have thought about it,” Orlando said. He knelt and began stacking firewood. “Dr Holm said my particular part of the grant money came from one of the local ranchers.” Suddenly Orlando turned and looked at David. “Was it you?”
David hesitated fractionally in the act of righting the water bucket, then shrugged and said, “I’m a cowhand, not a rancher. Viggo and Billy own the land.”
Orlando waited, certain that he was right. Only someone who respected and understood wildlife would have given money for a study that didn’t disrupt the animals’ normal lives. It was obvious that David felt an unusual affinity for wild animals. He had never seen Baby take to a person with such ease.
“Both Viggo and Billy admire the cougars, but they have their hands full raising kids and cattle,” David continued. “And at the same time, they’re protecting and excavating some Anasazi sites at Arwen Canyon. On a ranch there’s never enough money to do everything that should be done.”
“So you paid for part of the grant.”
Again, David shrugged. “The cougars are staging a comeback around here. Now, I believe the cats live on wild food rather than on Double L beef, but I couldn’t prove it, even though I spent a lot of time chasing cats when I should have been chasing cattle. So I took some of the money I made in my last life and told the university to find an expert who could study our cougars without drugging or harassing them.”
“I won’t drug the cats,” Orlando nodded. “But having Baby on their trail might constitute harassment.”
David’s mouth shifted subtly beneath his beard. He reached down and ruffled the wolf’s sleek fur. Baby leaned into the touch, enjoying it.
“Dogs have been chasing cats at least as long as men have been chasing women,” David said, giving Orlando a brief, sidelong look. “I think the cats might even get a kick out of a good race. Cougars will run like hell, but once they’re up in a tree, they relax. Hell, I’ve seen more than one cougar curl up for a nap in some tall timber while a pack of hounds went crazy barking down below.” Frowning thoughtfully, David turned away from scratching Baby’s ears. “That reminds me--does Baby ever bark?”
“Rarely.”
David’s mouth flattened. “Then you’ve got the wrong hunting dog no matter how good Baby’s nose is. A cougar will run from a barking dog, even if it’s no bigger than a Scottish terrier. But a dog that doesn’t bark will be attacked no matter how big it is.”
“Don’t worry. Cats are the exception to Baby’s code of silence. When he’s on a hot cat trail, Baby makes more noise than a pack of foxhounds.”
“Good.” David looked around the room. “That leaves just one other thing to settle before we go hunting. Who’s Mark?”
Orlando looked up, surprised by the sudden edge in David’s voice. “What?”
“Baby’s wrestling partner,” David said flatly. “The man who broke his arm.”
“Oh. That Mark. He’s my brother.”
David grunted. “How many Marks do you know?”
“Just two.”
David waited, watching Orlando with pale blue eyes as he stacked the last piece of firewood, stood up and dusted his hands on his pants.
“The second Mark was my boyfriend for a time,” he continued. “Then he discovered being lifelong friends wasn’t the same thing as really wanting a relationship. He took one look at Simon and knew something important had been missing from our relationship. They were living together a month later.”
David had had a lot of practice reading people. He saw no indications of distress in Orlando as he talked about his broken relationship. His voice was even, supple, almost amused. Not at all the way it had been when he discussed flu turning into pneumonia.
“You sound like you didn’t mind losing Mark to another man,” David said, walking slowly across the room toward Orlando.
“I didn’t love him. We’re still friends.”
Skepticism showed in the arch of David’s ginger eyebrows. Orlando watched with widening eyes as David came closer and then closer still, not stopping until he was so close that Orlando could feel the heat from his body.
“It’s true,” Orlando said, puzzled by David’s intensity. “Mark and I are still friends.”
“Then you were never lovers.”
Orlando made a soft, startled sound deep in his throat. “How did you know?”
“Easy. Once a man had you, he’d want you again and again, with every breath he took.” David shrugged, but the silver-blue intensity of his eyes didn’t diminish. “Which means Mark never had you, because he let you go.”
Chapter 8|