Happy fandom swap, xmartydomx!
Happy fandom swap, xmartydomx!
Title: Unspoken
Author: lady_draherm
Fandom: Brokeback Mountain
Summary: Ennis wasn’t the sort to celebrate anniversaries.
Pairings: Ennis/Jack
Rating: Teen
Words: ~1700
Author’s Notes: Although I’ve seen the movie and read the story a couple times each, I’ve never read/wrote in this fandom before! Although, that was the point of this fic exchange, wasn’t it? And I apologize for not quite reaching the requested rating, but I don’t write mature fics. Nonetheless, I really do hope you enjoy it! It was interesting and fun to write, once I got an idea for it. :) Many thanks to coppala for the beta.
Unspoken
The heat of the blistering August day sought its way through the tattered screen of Ennis del Mar’s trailer window. Ennis lay on the narrow bed with its lumpy mattress, wearing nothing but ripped and faded blue jeans. He was paying no real mind to the heat.
He was focused on something entirely different, something from years ago. It seemed so far away, yet he kept it as close as he could, using it to fuel the long, hard days he faced in his older age.
Ennis used this day, above all days, to focus his memory on Jack, rather than waiting for Jack to visit him in a dream…
* * * * *
“What ya so happy ‘bout?” Ennis asked Jack, glancing over as he tightened the saddle on his horse, Cigar Butt. Ennis was determined to spend more time with the sheep today; he’d been slacking on his job, and though he took no pride in that, he was finding it harder and harder each passing day to take his leave of Jack.
Jack, who had been grinning like a fool all early morning, during their time together in the tent and now, much later, after pulling on his jeans and puttering around the camp, attempting to tidy up.
“Nothin’ much,” Jack answered, but the grin never faded from his face.
“Ya lyin’ to me, Jack Twist?” Ennis goaded.
Jack opened his mouth as if to protest, but instead shook his head from side to side and merely muttered, “Yer not a man to care much ‘bout…” His voice trailed off as he bent over to pluck his cowboy hat from the log where it rested.
For the first time in his life, Ennis found himself checking out another man’s behind. He couldn’t help but look at the way Jack’s dirty blue jeans pulled taunt over his firm buttocks as he bent over, and Ennis unconsciously licked his lips, only becoming aware of the aroused tic when he bit down on his lower lip. He quickly looked away, turning back to his horse. The moment unsettled Ennis in a way he couldn’t name; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Jack Twist in much less than a pair of blue jeans, and in much more compromising positions, either.
“’Bout what?” he asked roughly, shoving his left boot into the stirrup, hoisting himself up and swinging his leg over, settling into the saddle. He looked back at Jack, blissfully standing up now, but still wearing no shirt as he settled his hat onto his head.
“Oh, nothin’.”
Ennis wasn’t about to pry if Jack wasn’t interested in sharing, but he would have been lying had he not admitted that he was a little bothered by his friend’s reluctance. He was about to prompt Cigar Butt forward when Jack must have changed his mind.
“Celebratin’” Jack said quickly.
Ennis looked over at him, confusion crinkling his typically expressionless face. “Celebratin’?”
Jack nodded, and for the first time since Ennis had known him, looked a little more than shy, as he was suddenly more interested in staring at the dirt under his boots than looking up at Ennis. “Yeah. Celebratin’. Anniversaries. Ya don’t seem much the type.”
Jack looked up at Ennis then, but Ennis could only blink back at him. “Ya right,” he said gruffly, then took off toward the sheep.
Ennis sat perched on his saddle all day, looking over the heard of sheep. Nagging at the back his mind the whole time was Jack’s odd behaviour, and the even odder (though correct) assumption of Ennis’ view on celebrating. He didn’t even know what sort of anniversary he would be having out on the mountains anyhow.
It was only when the sun began to settle behind the ragged-edged horizon of stony peaks that he finally got it. That it had been two months since that night they had first come together, drunk and fumbling; Ennis wouldn’t exactly call that an anniversary, though, as they weren’t in a relationship. They didn’t even talk about the sex, other than the quiet decision that it really wasn’t anyone’s business. They were just two men with nothing to celebrate, and certainly no anniversary of their own.
Still, it bothered Ennis on the way back to the camp, and he couldn’t put his finger on why exactly that was.
Returning, he saw things were as usual; the fire was stoked, and two cans of open beans with spoons sticking out of them sat near by. Only Jack was different; instead of looking up at Ennis with his bucktoothed smile or jumping up to greet him, Jack remained sitting near the fire, leaned up against a log with a flask of whiskey clenched in his hand, glossed-over eyes staring at the dancing flames.
And it was then that Ennis knew that even though he wasn’t (would never be) with Jack in a way that warranted an anniversary, he wanted to be with him just as they had been for the past two months, nestled away in the mountains, high stone walls blocking everyone out and keeping them in safe. Together.
Ennis secured Cigar Butt, and then walked over to where Jack sat with his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, the soles of his boots glowing in the flames. Ennis planted a foot on each side of Jack’s knees, facing him, and squatted down on his haunches, weight bared on the balls of his feet. Wordlessly, he took the flask from Jack, tipping his head back as he took a deep swig, and secured the cap, placing it to the side.
He reached forward again, this time cupping Jack’s cheeks in his hands, rough stubble tickling and rubbing roughly against his palms. Leaning in, he kissed Jack as he never had before. Soft (but deep). Tender (but needy). Gentle (but urgent). Jack gasped in surprise, but soon moaned with want as he circled his arms around Ennis, pulling him closer and nearly tipping his balance.
They didn’t make it back to the tent; their two naked bodies, soaked with sweat that glistened in the firelight, lay against the cold hard dirt ground. They did it in a way they never had before (soft, tender, gentle) facing each other (foreheads bumping) the entire time, even as Ennis entered Jack, mouth kissing (and clashing and panting) against the other.
Ennis stayed the night with Jack, and woke when the dawn began to spread over the camp. He was still facing Jack, their limbs tangled together. He realized then that he’d never made love before, not even with a woman, but given this circumstance, he didn’t think it counted either.
But even that thought couldn’t extinguish the warm feeling that twisted and twirled through his insides for the rest of the day and into the next (and the next and the next).
They never did it quite that way again that summer together, but Ennis would on occasion catch Jack sitting by the fire, flask of whiskey in his hand, a small wistful smile tugging at his mouth. And Ennis knew that Jack must have known what that night had really been about, even if neither had ever said it out loud.
* * * * *
Ennis del Mar knew he was not the smartest of men, what with his school education had been halted at the ninth grade. But he had a good memory, and once he learned or knew something, it stuck with him, especially when that something directly affected his life.
That was why, when he received that postcard from Jack Twist (the first word from him in four years) Ennis was acutely aware of the date written on it. Maybe Jack didn’t realize (probably did) but it added a new level of anxiousness to their meeting.
Ennis nearly forgot that anxiousness the moment he saw Jack get out of his truck, and especially the moment they first touched. It was all but gone the moment their lips met in excitement.
It wasn’t even a concern when they entered the motel room. The combination of urgency, desperation, and longing left little time for reflection.
And then, spent after the first go at it, they talked about the future; how they couldn’t (wouldn’t) let each other be, not completely. They would make it work in whatever way they could.
Though they never talked about the date, the specific meaning of it that lay just beneath the surface of their every breath and touch. But as Ennis entered Jack again (slow, tender, gentle) as he had that night four years before, Ennis caught that small, wistful smile that mirrored the one Jack used to wear at the campfire. And Ennis knew. He knew that Jack knew.
* * * * *
They always tried to meet up in the summer; they always aimed for August. They never said why, but they didn’t need to. Some years it didn’t always work out - it had to be a month early, or even a month later - but they always tried.
When Ennis told Jack that this year wouldn’t happen, he knew the real reason for the anger Jack blasted at him. Words (bitter, frustrated, sad) were thrown about (work, cold, Mexico, quitting) between them, and they both knew the real, underlying, unspoken fuel to their anger.
They didn’t celebrate that year.
And never would again.
* * * * *
Ennis woke with a start, his eyes settling on the brown stains that lined the ceiling of his little trailer.
Wiping the tears he felt on his cheeks, he turned over onto his side, and caught a glimpse of the memories that hung on his closet door.
He had tried to focus his memories, to concentrate on the good ones that belonged to this day, but in his slumber, his mind had forwarded him to the bitter end.
In all the years he could have said it, he never did.
“Happy Anniversary,” he whispered into the hot, stale air, hoping that Jack heard it, that Jack knew.
Then Ennis felt himself echo the small wistful smile that Jack used to wear, and he knew. He knew that Jack had known.
~fin
Title: Unspoken
Author: lady_draherm
Fandom: Brokeback Mountain
Summary: Ennis wasn’t the sort to celebrate anniversaries.
Pairings: Ennis/Jack
Rating: Teen
Words: ~1700
Author’s Notes: Although I’ve seen the movie and read the story a couple times each, I’ve never read/wrote in this fandom before! Although, that was the point of this fic exchange, wasn’t it? And I apologize for not quite reaching the requested rating, but I don’t write mature fics. Nonetheless, I really do hope you enjoy it! It was interesting and fun to write, once I got an idea for it. :) Many thanks to coppala for the beta.
Unspoken
The heat of the blistering August day sought its way through the tattered screen of Ennis del Mar’s trailer window. Ennis lay on the narrow bed with its lumpy mattress, wearing nothing but ripped and faded blue jeans. He was paying no real mind to the heat.
He was focused on something entirely different, something from years ago. It seemed so far away, yet he kept it as close as he could, using it to fuel the long, hard days he faced in his older age.
Ennis used this day, above all days, to focus his memory on Jack, rather than waiting for Jack to visit him in a dream…
* * * * *
“What ya so happy ‘bout?” Ennis asked Jack, glancing over as he tightened the saddle on his horse, Cigar Butt. Ennis was determined to spend more time with the sheep today; he’d been slacking on his job, and though he took no pride in that, he was finding it harder and harder each passing day to take his leave of Jack.
Jack, who had been grinning like a fool all early morning, during their time together in the tent and now, much later, after pulling on his jeans and puttering around the camp, attempting to tidy up.
“Nothin’ much,” Jack answered, but the grin never faded from his face.
“Ya lyin’ to me, Jack Twist?” Ennis goaded.
Jack opened his mouth as if to protest, but instead shook his head from side to side and merely muttered, “Yer not a man to care much ‘bout…” His voice trailed off as he bent over to pluck his cowboy hat from the log where it rested.
For the first time in his life, Ennis found himself checking out another man’s behind. He couldn’t help but look at the way Jack’s dirty blue jeans pulled taunt over his firm buttocks as he bent over, and Ennis unconsciously licked his lips, only becoming aware of the aroused tic when he bit down on his lower lip. He quickly looked away, turning back to his horse. The moment unsettled Ennis in a way he couldn’t name; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Jack Twist in much less than a pair of blue jeans, and in much more compromising positions, either.
“’Bout what?” he asked roughly, shoving his left boot into the stirrup, hoisting himself up and swinging his leg over, settling into the saddle. He looked back at Jack, blissfully standing up now, but still wearing no shirt as he settled his hat onto his head.
“Oh, nothin’.”
Ennis wasn’t about to pry if Jack wasn’t interested in sharing, but he would have been lying had he not admitted that he was a little bothered by his friend’s reluctance. He was about to prompt Cigar Butt forward when Jack must have changed his mind.
“Celebratin’” Jack said quickly.
Ennis looked over at him, confusion crinkling his typically expressionless face. “Celebratin’?”
Jack nodded, and for the first time since Ennis had known him, looked a little more than shy, as he was suddenly more interested in staring at the dirt under his boots than looking up at Ennis. “Yeah. Celebratin’. Anniversaries. Ya don’t seem much the type.”
Jack looked up at Ennis then, but Ennis could only blink back at him. “Ya right,” he said gruffly, then took off toward the sheep.
Ennis sat perched on his saddle all day, looking over the heard of sheep. Nagging at the back his mind the whole time was Jack’s odd behaviour, and the even odder (though correct) assumption of Ennis’ view on celebrating. He didn’t even know what sort of anniversary he would be having out on the mountains anyhow.
It was only when the sun began to settle behind the ragged-edged horizon of stony peaks that he finally got it. That it had been two months since that night they had first come together, drunk and fumbling; Ennis wouldn’t exactly call that an anniversary, though, as they weren’t in a relationship. They didn’t even talk about the sex, other than the quiet decision that it really wasn’t anyone’s business. They were just two men with nothing to celebrate, and certainly no anniversary of their own.
Still, it bothered Ennis on the way back to the camp, and he couldn’t put his finger on why exactly that was.
Returning, he saw things were as usual; the fire was stoked, and two cans of open beans with spoons sticking out of them sat near by. Only Jack was different; instead of looking up at Ennis with his bucktoothed smile or jumping up to greet him, Jack remained sitting near the fire, leaned up against a log with a flask of whiskey clenched in his hand, glossed-over eyes staring at the dancing flames.
And it was then that Ennis knew that even though he wasn’t (would never be) with Jack in a way that warranted an anniversary, he wanted to be with him just as they had been for the past two months, nestled away in the mountains, high stone walls blocking everyone out and keeping them in safe. Together.
Ennis secured Cigar Butt, and then walked over to where Jack sat with his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, the soles of his boots glowing in the flames. Ennis planted a foot on each side of Jack’s knees, facing him, and squatted down on his haunches, weight bared on the balls of his feet. Wordlessly, he took the flask from Jack, tipping his head back as he took a deep swig, and secured the cap, placing it to the side.
He reached forward again, this time cupping Jack’s cheeks in his hands, rough stubble tickling and rubbing roughly against his palms. Leaning in, he kissed Jack as he never had before. Soft (but deep). Tender (but needy). Gentle (but urgent). Jack gasped in surprise, but soon moaned with want as he circled his arms around Ennis, pulling him closer and nearly tipping his balance.
They didn’t make it back to the tent; their two naked bodies, soaked with sweat that glistened in the firelight, lay against the cold hard dirt ground. They did it in a way they never had before (soft, tender, gentle) facing each other (foreheads bumping) the entire time, even as Ennis entered Jack, mouth kissing (and clashing and panting) against the other.
Ennis stayed the night with Jack, and woke when the dawn began to spread over the camp. He was still facing Jack, their limbs tangled together. He realized then that he’d never made love before, not even with a woman, but given this circumstance, he didn’t think it counted either.
But even that thought couldn’t extinguish the warm feeling that twisted and twirled through his insides for the rest of the day and into the next (and the next and the next).
They never did it quite that way again that summer together, but Ennis would on occasion catch Jack sitting by the fire, flask of whiskey in his hand, a small wistful smile tugging at his mouth. And Ennis knew that Jack must have known what that night had really been about, even if neither had ever said it out loud.
* * * * *
Ennis del Mar knew he was not the smartest of men, what with his school education had been halted at the ninth grade. But he had a good memory, and once he learned or knew something, it stuck with him, especially when that something directly affected his life.
That was why, when he received that postcard from Jack Twist (the first word from him in four years) Ennis was acutely aware of the date written on it. Maybe Jack didn’t realize (probably did) but it added a new level of anxiousness to their meeting.
Ennis nearly forgot that anxiousness the moment he saw Jack get out of his truck, and especially the moment they first touched. It was all but gone the moment their lips met in excitement.
It wasn’t even a concern when they entered the motel room. The combination of urgency, desperation, and longing left little time for reflection.
And then, spent after the first go at it, they talked about the future; how they couldn’t (wouldn’t) let each other be, not completely. They would make it work in whatever way they could.
Though they never talked about the date, the specific meaning of it that lay just beneath the surface of their every breath and touch. But as Ennis entered Jack again (slow, tender, gentle) as he had that night four years before, Ennis caught that small, wistful smile that mirrored the one Jack used to wear at the campfire. And Ennis knew. He knew that Jack knew.
* * * * *
They always tried to meet up in the summer; they always aimed for August. They never said why, but they didn’t need to. Some years it didn’t always work out - it had to be a month early, or even a month later - but they always tried.
When Ennis told Jack that this year wouldn’t happen, he knew the real reason for the anger Jack blasted at him. Words (bitter, frustrated, sad) were thrown about (work, cold, Mexico, quitting) between them, and they both knew the real, underlying, unspoken fuel to their anger.
They didn’t celebrate that year.
And never would again.
* * * * *
Ennis woke with a start, his eyes settling on the brown stains that lined the ceiling of his little trailer.
Wiping the tears he felt on his cheeks, he turned over onto his side, and caught a glimpse of the memories that hung on his closet door.
He had tried to focus his memories, to concentrate on the good ones that belonged to this day, but in his slumber, his mind had forwarded him to the bitter end.
In all the years he could have said it, he never did.
“Happy Anniversary,” he whispered into the hot, stale air, hoping that Jack heard it, that Jack knew.
Then Ennis felt himself echo the small wistful smile that Jack used to wear, and he knew. He knew that Jack had known.
~fin