Original: "Spooking Horses." Slash.
Summary: there's a gang of snake men that keeps bothering Bronco's sleepy little town. What's worse is now his old friend is running with them, too.
Warning: some cursing, violence.
Willamina was the picture of calm when she came busting into his one-roomer that morning.
"Roco, them snake boys'r out runnin' people round town again. You mind comin' in and puttin' a few bullets in 'em. Scare 'em a little?"
"Just-- let me sober up here some..." Bronco made to stand up, but he didn't have the legs for it, didn't have near the sense enough neither, wobbling back hard into his chair. His head sloshed the same as his stomach, and the light through the torn curtains was doing relentless sin to his eyes. Was there some natural order that said no one needed you 'til you were hung over to high hell, and then they wanted you to go out and kill yourself for 'em? Or was it just his own damned hand of fate? "...Just a minute, Willa."
"Ain't time for that." Willamina pushed his six-shooter into his chest, started up stinging his cheek with little slaps to get him real woke up. "Got some more bad news for you, Roco."
"What?" Bronco bit out, urging her back and pawing a sloppy hand over his bandolier on the table. It slid along the wood with the kind of sound that could split teeth, though likely that was just the liquor talking. Since when was he getting ideas to down whole bottles of whiskey in a go? Last night wasn't even worth anything to waste it on. He couldn't hold his drink for shit.
"Your boy, that Pace you used to run with 'til recent? Yeah, he's runnin' with 'em now."
"You're pullin' my leg, Willa. He's been gone months now." He got his bandolier over one shoulder, popping out the cylinder of his gun to check the chambers, feed bullets into the empty ones with whiskey fingers that shook and slipped like the useless drunks they were. "Damn it." He cast her a hard glare under his brow. "What, you're sayin' they turned him?"
She nodded. "Looks like. He's got a real nice tail on 'im now, at least. You make from that what you want. Either way, yeah, he's putting up a real bad ruckus with 'em."
"Goddamn it, Pace."
*
It wasn't quick work, sick-stomached and having to bag a crawler that weighed the same as a horse and a half. At the least, though, it didn't take more than a few dozen well-placed shots toward the others to get them hightailing it away from Pace, leaving him all to his tenderfooted lonesome in the dust, like the backstabbing scum they were. And when Bronco could get close enough to him -- easier for the bullet he'd put right under Pace's ribs and for all Pace's mess of wheezing and hollering himself slow -- he pistol whipped Pace hard enough to knock him out, just for making him go to all the trouble, disappointing him like no one ever had before.
Humble crowds drew together in the doorways to watch him tie Pace behind his mare, Sala. There were even a few kids daring each other out to touch Pace's tail, when Bronco wasn't shouting 'em back or kicking dirt up at 'em.
In no time he had himself astride Sala, with Pace's lily-liver ass dragging behind over the dry road, for all the town to see. See if that taught him something.
*
He woke Pace with a cup of water to his face.
Pace choked out some death hiss, and though Bronco had made sure to tie him up good and tight, he still went a little cold at the collar, petting over the arms of the chair like he might need it in a pinch to keep Pace back. Even just to up and throw it at him, no bones about it.
"Boo--" Pace moaned, and that was the voice of the empty bullet wound, blistered with antiseptic and sutured in messy, proud stitches.
Well, Bronco was no doctor. He did what he could.
"What d'ya want? More water? Hold on--"
"Boo, you louse!" Pace strained against the ropes, so brute and solid now that a few of them snapped like paper, his tail writhing, kicking over and over at the wall of the place, shuddering the wood all the way up through to the roof. Dust started down on them even, a regular haze. "Untie me! Untie me right this goddamn minute! I can't believe you shot me!"
"Quit with your gripin'. Your boys shot up my hat, besides. I think I got off much worse."
"You shot me! God, my head--"
"You're not gonna die or nothing’, Ace. Had to do something or you'd keep bein' stupid and run right after them again." Bronco hiked a leg up on the cot he had Pace stuck to, toeing his boot tip against Pace's face; that sure got him stopped a second. "My way of sayin' I missed you."
Pace snubbed him. "Yeah, well, if you just untie me, we can get back to that missing of yours."
"Nah, I don't like missin' much, really. Makes my stomach ache." He put his foot down and leaned over Pace, reaching out to rub at the smudge he'd left on his cheek, though Pace jerked.
His breath went crooked some, looking at his old friend so different now, scales all piled up along his eyes, over every inch of him in patches and lulls, his wild black hair cropped close and stick hard from pomade, skin a fevered red where it'd been all but ripe cinnamon before. No more dark stains of birthmarks, no more big brown eyes, no more innocent faces to hide something dangerous; Bronco liked those best, 'specially when they were turned at him, all up and down him.
But Pace just looked sharp now, demonic and sharp, a human caught halfway in a beast. Bronco almost wanted to hit him again for being so stupid. What was he thinking?
"Why're you out with them, Pace?" His fingertips snagged on Pace's scales. "Huh? Why'd you leave? I figured you for dead. I went looking all over for you, for days. Instead, you've gone and done this?"
Pace slammed his tail against the wall again, spooking Bronco’s hand off him. He bared his teeth and arched up strong into the ropes, which grit and whined something fierce, but held for the most part.
He was even redder for them burning, maybe, redder for his anger. "What's it matter what I do?!"
"Now what's that all about!"
"You were talking big talk about going out to California to find your future! I'll have me a house, Pace, a real nice house and gold for miles and no one shooting a gun at me for nothing! Won't it be great!" He bashed the wall again, sending a plank down into the table with a gutting clatter. "That's all I heard for months! I, me, my! So go! Leave me, just like the rest of 'em! Thought you'd be gone by now, already! I got new family!"
"I wasn't gonna leave you!" Bronco yelled back, somehow offended. "Are you crazy?! What got you thinkin' that! I was plannin' on haulin' you along with me. Even if you said no a thousand times! Goddamn it, Pace, you're such a fool! You go and do this to yourself, without even askin' me! Without tellin' me a goddamn thing! You've really gone and done it now!"
Pace shot him with a hateful sneer, but it didn't make it to his eyes. There was nothing behind it. Looked like it was just something to keep him from bawling, in fact, painfully so. It figured acting tough would be the one thing to make him soft.
"Too proud to just ask me to come... Stubborn asshole." Bronco caught the one fat tear that Pace couldn't keep back, cut down in close and startled him with a furious kiss. And for a change, Pace responded without a fight. But he was demanding, deep and deprived, like he'd been on the brink of death without Bronco all those weeks, and was only now coming up alive under him.
"God, I missed you something terrible..." Bronco mumbled, pressing Pace’s lips with smaller, sappier kisses, holding tight to his face though the scales scraped his palms near to raw. "What'm I gonna do with you? So stubborn..."
"Sorry. Sorry I left--" Pace said, clipped short for trying to keep himself together.
"I won't go without you. I won't." He felt along Pace's mouth with his thumb, followed it with another kiss for assurance. "I swear."
"I know. Now. Okay... I know now."
Whistling soft, Bronco scruffed up his hair for old times, getting a little glimpse of the Pace that he remembered. "Say...will your friends be comin' 'round lookin' for you?"
"They probably think you killed me. Doubt it, anyway."
"Well good, because it wears me out, having to stake my claim twice in a day."
"Is that what that was?" Pace murmured, mostly false awe, some real. Funny, him trying to look sunny now with a face like that. "I thought Willa dragged your no-good hide out to do the Sheriff's dirty work again..."
"That too." Bronco sat back with a pitiful old bones reluctance, fishing his switchblade out of his boot to cut the ropes. "What say tomorrow, if you’re up to it, we go see that old rock hag? I hear she's in with a devil and can do anythin’ for the right price. Change you back, if you want."
[hosted on personal lj too, with ip logging off/anon commenting on.]
Warning: some cursing, violence.
Willamina was the picture of calm when she came busting into his one-roomer that morning.
"Roco, them snake boys'r out runnin' people round town again. You mind comin' in and puttin' a few bullets in 'em. Scare 'em a little?"
"Just-- let me sober up here some..." Bronco made to stand up, but he didn't have the legs for it, didn't have near the sense enough neither, wobbling back hard into his chair. His head sloshed the same as his stomach, and the light through the torn curtains was doing relentless sin to his eyes. Was there some natural order that said no one needed you 'til you were hung over to high hell, and then they wanted you to go out and kill yourself for 'em? Or was it just his own damned hand of fate? "...Just a minute, Willa."
"Ain't time for that." Willamina pushed his six-shooter into his chest, started up stinging his cheek with little slaps to get him real woke up. "Got some more bad news for you, Roco."
"What?" Bronco bit out, urging her back and pawing a sloppy hand over his bandolier on the table. It slid along the wood with the kind of sound that could split teeth, though likely that was just the liquor talking. Since when was he getting ideas to down whole bottles of whiskey in a go? Last night wasn't even worth anything to waste it on. He couldn't hold his drink for shit.
"Your boy, that Pace you used to run with 'til recent? Yeah, he's runnin' with 'em now."
"You're pullin' my leg, Willa. He's been gone months now." He got his bandolier over one shoulder, popping out the cylinder of his gun to check the chambers, feed bullets into the empty ones with whiskey fingers that shook and slipped like the useless drunks they were. "Damn it." He cast her a hard glare under his brow. "What, you're sayin' they turned him?"
She nodded. "Looks like. He's got a real nice tail on 'im now, at least. You make from that what you want. Either way, yeah, he's putting up a real bad ruckus with 'em."
"Goddamn it, Pace."
*
It wasn't quick work, sick-stomached and having to bag a crawler that weighed the same as a horse and a half. At the least, though, it didn't take more than a few dozen well-placed shots toward the others to get them hightailing it away from Pace, leaving him all to his tenderfooted lonesome in the dust, like the backstabbing scum they were. And when Bronco could get close enough to him -- easier for the bullet he'd put right under Pace's ribs and for all Pace's mess of wheezing and hollering himself slow -- he pistol whipped Pace hard enough to knock him out, just for making him go to all the trouble, disappointing him like no one ever had before.
Humble crowds drew together in the doorways to watch him tie Pace behind his mare, Sala. There were even a few kids daring each other out to touch Pace's tail, when Bronco wasn't shouting 'em back or kicking dirt up at 'em.
In no time he had himself astride Sala, with Pace's lily-liver ass dragging behind over the dry road, for all the town to see. See if that taught him something.
*
He woke Pace with a cup of water to his face.
Pace choked out some death hiss, and though Bronco had made sure to tie him up good and tight, he still went a little cold at the collar, petting over the arms of the chair like he might need it in a pinch to keep Pace back. Even just to up and throw it at him, no bones about it.
"Boo--" Pace moaned, and that was the voice of the empty bullet wound, blistered with antiseptic and sutured in messy, proud stitches.
Well, Bronco was no doctor. He did what he could.
"What d'ya want? More water? Hold on--"
"Boo, you louse!" Pace strained against the ropes, so brute and solid now that a few of them snapped like paper, his tail writhing, kicking over and over at the wall of the place, shuddering the wood all the way up through to the roof. Dust started down on them even, a regular haze. "Untie me! Untie me right this goddamn minute! I can't believe you shot me!"
"Quit with your gripin'. Your boys shot up my hat, besides. I think I got off much worse."
"You shot me! God, my head--"
"You're not gonna die or nothing’, Ace. Had to do something or you'd keep bein' stupid and run right after them again." Bronco hiked a leg up on the cot he had Pace stuck to, toeing his boot tip against Pace's face; that sure got him stopped a second. "My way of sayin' I missed you."
Pace snubbed him. "Yeah, well, if you just untie me, we can get back to that missing of yours."
"Nah, I don't like missin' much, really. Makes my stomach ache." He put his foot down and leaned over Pace, reaching out to rub at the smudge he'd left on his cheek, though Pace jerked.
His breath went crooked some, looking at his old friend so different now, scales all piled up along his eyes, over every inch of him in patches and lulls, his wild black hair cropped close and stick hard from pomade, skin a fevered red where it'd been all but ripe cinnamon before. No more dark stains of birthmarks, no more big brown eyes, no more innocent faces to hide something dangerous; Bronco liked those best, 'specially when they were turned at him, all up and down him.
But Pace just looked sharp now, demonic and sharp, a human caught halfway in a beast. Bronco almost wanted to hit him again for being so stupid. What was he thinking?
"Why're you out with them, Pace?" His fingertips snagged on Pace's scales. "Huh? Why'd you leave? I figured you for dead. I went looking all over for you, for days. Instead, you've gone and done this?"
Pace slammed his tail against the wall again, spooking Bronco’s hand off him. He bared his teeth and arched up strong into the ropes, which grit and whined something fierce, but held for the most part.
He was even redder for them burning, maybe, redder for his anger. "What's it matter what I do?!"
"Now what's that all about!"
"You were talking big talk about going out to California to find your future! I'll have me a house, Pace, a real nice house and gold for miles and no one shooting a gun at me for nothing! Won't it be great!" He bashed the wall again, sending a plank down into the table with a gutting clatter. "That's all I heard for months! I, me, my! So go! Leave me, just like the rest of 'em! Thought you'd be gone by now, already! I got new family!"
"I wasn't gonna leave you!" Bronco yelled back, somehow offended. "Are you crazy?! What got you thinkin' that! I was plannin' on haulin' you along with me. Even if you said no a thousand times! Goddamn it, Pace, you're such a fool! You go and do this to yourself, without even askin' me! Without tellin' me a goddamn thing! You've really gone and done it now!"
Pace shot him with a hateful sneer, but it didn't make it to his eyes. There was nothing behind it. Looked like it was just something to keep him from bawling, in fact, painfully so. It figured acting tough would be the one thing to make him soft.
"Too proud to just ask me to come... Stubborn asshole." Bronco caught the one fat tear that Pace couldn't keep back, cut down in close and startled him with a furious kiss. And for a change, Pace responded without a fight. But he was demanding, deep and deprived, like he'd been on the brink of death without Bronco all those weeks, and was only now coming up alive under him.
"God, I missed you something terrible..." Bronco mumbled, pressing Pace’s lips with smaller, sappier kisses, holding tight to his face though the scales scraped his palms near to raw. "What'm I gonna do with you? So stubborn..."
"Sorry. Sorry I left--" Pace said, clipped short for trying to keep himself together.
"I won't go without you. I won't." He felt along Pace's mouth with his thumb, followed it with another kiss for assurance. "I swear."
"I know. Now. Okay... I know now."
Whistling soft, Bronco scruffed up his hair for old times, getting a little glimpse of the Pace that he remembered. "Say...will your friends be comin' 'round lookin' for you?"
"They probably think you killed me. Doubt it, anyway."
"Well good, because it wears me out, having to stake my claim twice in a day."
"Is that what that was?" Pace murmured, mostly false awe, some real. Funny, him trying to look sunny now with a face like that. "I thought Willa dragged your no-good hide out to do the Sheriff's dirty work again..."
"That too." Bronco sat back with a pitiful old bones reluctance, fishing his switchblade out of his boot to cut the ropes. "What say tomorrow, if you’re up to it, we go see that old rock hag? I hear she's in with a devil and can do anythin’ for the right price. Change you back, if you want."
[hosted on personal lj too, with ip logging off/anon commenting on.]