PART ONE: Home On the Range - (J2, R)
//**//**//
“Ackles!”
Jensen keeps walking, pretending he doesn’t hear the familiar voice calling his name.
“Jensen! Wait up!”
This time, he pauses to look back, letting the other men and women move on without him.
Tall, lanky Jared Padalecki jogs to catch up, his face breaking into the broad, dimpled grin Jensen remembers well.
“You headed planet-side?” Jared asks as he pulls up alongside Jensen. They turn together and resume the walk toward the waiting spacecraft.
Jensen shrugs. “Same as last time,” he confirms.
It’s been three years since Jared and Jensen started cattle driving together, six years since they met. Jared was just a kid then, barely sixteen, with a mop of dark hair that constantly fell into his eyes. Not quite done growing.
Now, he’s a head taller than Jensen and he’s put on muscle, with the promise of more. Three years ago, when they first spent six weeks together rounding up cattle and moving them to the valley for wintering, Jensen had faced the fact that he was a little in love with this eager, hopeful kid. Now, with the warm wash of recognition in his chest, he knows that feeling has only grown along with Jared himself.
He doesn’t bother to consider whether Jared feels the same way. It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re both itinerant workers, moving all the time, going wherever the work takes them, volunteering for jobs nobody else wants to do.
They both enjoy the annual round-up, though. On horseback, moving cattle in the golden autumn sunlight through a landscape that’s almost dreamlike in its natural beauty, doesn’t feel like real work at all. Jensen far prefers it to working in the canneries and factories on Mars Colony, or drilling for minerals on one of Jupiter’s moons.
Being alone with Jared for six days every year feels so good it probably shouldn’t be legal.
“You think we’ll get to choose our own horses again?”
Jensen smiles at Jared’s eager tone. Jared bonds with animals. The horses that accompany them on cattle drives are important to him. Jensen likes that about him.
“Probably,” he answers.
“Man, I wish I could figure out a way to stay on Earth.”
Jensen frowns. “You mean, year-round?”
“Hell, yeah!” Jared gushes enthusiastically. “I know it gets cold in the winter, but the animals still need tending, right?”
Jensen shrugs. “Drones take care of the feeding and watering down in the valley,” he answers. “They don’t really need us.”
Jared shakes his head. “I don’t believe that, do you? I mean, when we work the cattle, you can tell they prefer human contact to machines. Horses do, too. And in the spring, you gotta know human hands would be much preferable to machines during the birthing season. Not to mention moving cattle back into the mountains for the summer. Why don’t they use us cowboys for that?”
Jensen shrugs. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he admits.
As they climb aboard the spaceship to Earth, Jensen considers Jared’s words. It really would be amazing to be able to stay on Earth year-round.
With Jared.
As they get settled into their seats for the flight, Jensen sends off a text to their boss on Earth. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Maybe Jeff Morgan needs them for more than just the fall round-up.
The flight to Earth is uneventful. Jensen gazes at his beautiful companion while Jared chatters on and on about the things he’s done over the past year since they were last together, while Jensen smiles and nods and listens patiently.
“I thought you were going to go back to school,” Jensen comments when Jared stops for air after a long exposition on his recent stint as a diamond miner on Europa.
“We were paid in diamonds, Jensen,” Jared says. “How could I not accept that offer? It was like getting five years’ wages in one two-month gig. I couldn’t pass that up.”
“And you’re doing what with that money? Going back to school, right?”
“Aw man, there’s just no time for school right now,” Jared insists. “Maybe when I have to slow down. When I’m old.”
Jensen shakes his head fondly. “You’re too smart for your own good, Jay,” he says. “You should use that big brain for learning. Get better jobs on the regular, instead of all this migrant grunt work.”
“I like migrant work,” Jared insists. “I get to see interesting places, meet interesting people. I get to work with my best friends.”
He smiles at Jensen, open and easy, and all Jensen can do is roll his eyes. Best friends. Friends. One of many. Jared’s words tell Jensen that Jensen’s not special, although he doesn’t doubt that Jared likes him. A lot. That’s just the kind of guy he is.
Jensen watches Jared’s big hands as he tells Jensen another story about another job on another planet. His long, slender fingers seem ill-suited for the hard manual labor he does. Jared should be pampered and cared for. By Jensen. Jared should wear fine clothes and never do another hard day’s work in his life, unless he wants to.
Jensen watches Jared’s hands as they gesture expressively, then return to his denim-clad knees, where they flex with nervous excitement. Jared’s excited. It’s cute.
“So you don’t really want to settle down,” Jensen says. “You’re not ready to stop migrating.”
Jared’s eyebrows go up. He stops talking, thinking about Jensen’s words, and Jensen realizes he’s even more in love. This kid isn’t an insensitive dweeb. He’s thoughtful. Considerate.
“Someday, I want to stop moving around,” Jared agrees. “And when that day comes, I’d definitely want to settle on Earth.”
Jensen takes that in. A plan forms in his mind. A goal.
Jensen’s always been good at long-range planning. He’s never been one to expect too much, or to believe in happily-ever-afters. Except where Jared’s concerned. And he thinks he’s got Jared figured out.
This could work.
//**//**//
Jeffrey Dean Morgan manages a small ranch in what used to be Texas. Jensen started working for him when he was barely sixteen, mucking out stables and feeding livestock in the winter, when the ground got too frost-hard for grazing. Morgan had taken Jensen under his wing, teaching him how to ride, then how to round up cattle. By the time Jensen was old enough and experienced enough to cattle drive, Morgan had found a new stable boy.
Morgan himself rode with Jensen on his first and second round-ups. By the time he handed his reins over to 19-year-old Jared, Jensen knew the ropes, as well as the route.
That was three years ago. Now, as Jared and Jensen board the ground shuttle to Morgan’s ranch, they’re old hands at this. Morgan likes them, sees them as a good team, trusts them with his cattle and his horses. Jensen’s got a good feeling about his future with the only father figure he’s ever known.
“Good to see you boys,” Morgan greets them as they climb out of the shuttle at the gates of the ranch.
He gives Jared a hug, shakes Jensen’s hand, and Jensen climbs into the passenger seat of Morgan’s antique battery-powered pick-up truck while Jared swings up into the back with their duffels. Morgan loves old-time artifacts. He loves history, especially history of the times before, long before, when life was simpler. He’s got a library full of ancient books, dug up years ago from a bunker that had been sealed tight at least a thousand years. He runs a refinery that turns locally-mined minerals into fuel for his ancient farming equipment and heating and cooking fuel for his home and the bunkhouse where Jared and Jensen sleep. In addition to the ranch, Morgan manages a wheat farm about thirty miles up the road. Jensen’s been there. It’s a really beautiful place.
“Appreciated your text, Jensen,” he tells his passenger as the old truck roars to life. “I’m going to give it some thought, while you boys are gone.”
Jensen nods his thanks. “It was Jared’s idea, actually. I just thought I’d ask.”
“You two work well together,” Morgan comments.
“I’d like to think so,” Jensen agrees.
“It would be a shame to lose such a good team,” Morgan says. “You two really know your way around a ranch.”
“Yes, sir,” Jensen agrees. “I think I can speak for Jared when I tell you how much we love it here.”
Morgan nods. He’s quiet for a few minutes as they drive along the dusty road to the bunkhouse.
As they pull up to the front door, Morgan says, “It’s good having you back, Jensen.”
“Good to be back,” Jensen answers as he climbs out of the cab and catches the duffel Jared tosses to him.
“Dinner’s at 7:00,” Morgan reminds them with a wave. “I’ll see you both then.”
//**//**//
They settle in easily, snagging cots that are next to each other. There are ten cots altogether, but for this cattle drive, they’ll be mostly on their own after the first day, which makes it feel especially intimate. The rest of the cowboys are already up at the camp in the mountains. Morgan’s shuttle will take them up there tomorrow, then they’ll bring the cattle down on their own. Six men and women and four dogs have been busy rounding up the cattle and keeping them in temporary pens, waiting for Jared and Jensen to bring them to their winter home here in the valley.
After dinner, they take turns washing up and dressing down for bed. Jared’s gone quiet, reading one of the old books Morgan loaned him from his library by the light of an old kerosene lamp, altered to burn local mineral fuel instead of kerosene. All the old fossil fuels were used up long ago. Generator fuel is mostly synthetic now, just as it is in space.
Jensen plays solitaire on his device, forcing himself not to stare at Jared’s profile, which is just about the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. Jared notices, looks up at him, and blushes a pretty shade of pink.
“Something on my nose?” he asks.
“You’ve just changed, that’s all,” Jensen says, covering his tracks easily. “Grown up.”
“I’m twenty-two,” Jared answers, sticking out his chest, and Jensen tries not to notice the way his nipples pebble under his thin t-shirt. “Older than you were when we first met.”
Jensen nods, clears his throat, and changes the subject. “Good book?”
“Yeah,” Jared says. “Written in the old Common tongue. English, they called it. Learned it in school.”
“Huh. Man, you really need to go to college,” Jensen says. “You’re a natural scholar.”
“Shut up.”
“No, I mean it,” Jensen insists. “I couldn’t read a book in Common Tongue if you tortured me. Or offered me a million tokens. Not that I’d want to. I hated reading, back when I had to do it in school.”
Jared huffs out a breath. “Don’t put yourself down, Jensen,” he says. “You’re plenty smart.”
“Not book smart, I can tell you that,” Jensen says with an eye-roll.
“You’re all kinds of smart,” Jared insists. “You’re good with your hands, figuring things out. Remember how you fixed that broken drone last year? Because I do. That was amazing! I never could’ve figured out how to fix that thing.”
Jensen’s chest warms with the praise. “That was easy,” he insists. “Those things are just digital radios, basically. Needed to be rebooted. Turn off, turn on again. Simple.”
Jared shakes his head. “Not to me,” he says. “I wouldn’t have been able to figure that out to save my life.”
“Well, hopefully, you won’t have to,” Jensen says. “I’ll always be there when you need me.”
Jared’s dimples pop as he grins. “Promise?”
“‘Cowboy buddies for life,’ right?” Jensen says, repeating a phrase they came up with three years ago, the first time they did this.
“‘Cowboy buddies for life,’” Jared agrees.
“Now put the book down and turn off the light,” Jensen instructs. “We gotta get up early tomorrow.”
Jared obeys like it’s the most natural thing in the world, taking orders from Jensen, and Jensen smiles to himself as he snuggles down into his cot. In many ways, Jared’s like the little brother Jensen never knew he needed. He likes the way Jared makes him feel protective and looked up to. Jared makes him feel like he’s important, like he matters. Nobody else makes him feel like that. Jensen likes who he is with Jared.
Which is why there’s no way he’d ever do anything to change their relationship. It’s damn near perfect the way it is.
No way will Jared ever find out how he really feels.
Not if Jensen can help it.
//**//**//
The next morning dawns bright and clear. Perfect blue skies greet them as they join Jeff Morgan for breakfast, then pack up their meager belongings for the trip into the mountains.
They take the hovercraft, since the terrain gets steep and impassable by truck, and the old roads broke up and disappeared years ago. Morgan’s hovercraft makes the hour-long journey feel like nothing, although the trip back with the cattle will take almost a week.
At the mountain camp, they’re greeted by the rest of the team, who will stay behind after Jensen and Jared head down the mountain with the cattle. There are still several strays to find, although at this point it’s more likely all they’ll find is carcasses.
Jensen’s grateful he doesn’t have to do the dirty, grueling work of pulling dead cattle out of ditches. He’d done it, it wasn’t fun, and now other, mostly younger cowboys are assigned to that task. He doesn’t envy them.
“You boys hungry?” the foreman, Mitch Pileggi, asks as Jared and Jensen climb out of the hovercraft.
“Yes, sir,” Jensen answers as he shakes the foreman’s hand. Pileggi had been the first foreman he met when he joined the Morgan Ranch. They’re not exactly friends, but Jensen feels he can trust the man. Mostly.
Pileggi gestures to the cast-iron pot hanging over the campfire which serves as the camp’s kitchen stove. “Dig in.”
The stew is hearty and nutritious. Jensen can already feel the effect of the colder, thinner mountain air on his lungs and muscles. The nights up here are already cold, and he’s grateful for the tent he and Jared will share from now on.
Jared, of course, goes straight to the corral.
“Scoot! Hey there, girl!” he greets his favorite horse with a sugar cube.
Jensen’s damned if all the animals love Jared as much as all the people do. The horses gather close, snuffling and neighing, remembering him and his sugar cubes from last year. The dogs come running. Jensen watches from the picnic bench as Jared takes time to greet each animal by name, scrubbing their necks affectionately.
“Wash your hands before you eat,” Jensen warns as Jared finally leaves the dogs to join Jensen for lunch.
Jared plunges his hands under the tap at the camp’s communal well-water sink, scrubbing with the bar of thick, homemade soap hanging from a tree next to the sink.
Watching him makes Jensen’s chest warm. Then, as several of the other ranch hands join them for lunch, Jensen’s heart clenches with jealousy.
“Hey, Ackles.” Ty Olsson greets Jensen as he slides onto the bench next to him with his bowl of stew. He bumps Jensen’s shoulder companionably.
“Hey,” Jensen responds begrudgingly.
Jensen watches as Jared greets all the other ranch hands by name as they get their bowls of food and gather around the table. Jared seems genuinely glad to see them, and they obviously like him, too. Jared chats with Matt Cohen and Adrianne Palicki, going on about his adventures over the past year, then coaxing their stories out of them with that special way he has of listening attentively, like he really cares about them, like the things they say really matter to him.
“So, what have you been up to?” Olsson asks.
Jensen mumbles a noncommittal reply, and Olsson starts telling him about some boring mining expedition he was on over the past year. Jensen eats slowly, watching Jared chat and listen and eat, trying not to be as rude as he feels like being to Ty Olsson. He itches to get packed and hit the road with Jared, with miles of trail ahead of them and no one else around.
Eventually, Jared notices he’s being watched. He lifts his eyes to Jensen and gives him the little smile that Jensen knows is only for him, and Jensen nods, chest blooming with warmth.
Olsson notices.
“That boy still has a crush on you,” he notes as Jared turns away to laugh at something Palicki said. “Not that I blame him.”
Jensen snorts. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he mutters. “Kid loves everybody.”
“Nah, you’re special to him,” Olsson insists. “Everybody can see that.”
Jensen takes a deep breath, glances at Jared, then shakes his head.
“You like him, too,” Olsson states flatly. It’s not a question.
Jensen fights the flush rising in his cheeks. His bowl is empty, so he gets up to clean it, biting his bottom lip to keep from saying something he knows he’ll regret.
Is it really that obvious? Damn, he hopes not.
After washing and drying his dish and spoon, Jensen grabs his saddle, bridle, bed roll, and tent from the tack tent, carries them in one hand, his pack in the other, and heads to the corral to saddle and pack his horse.
“Hey there, old boy,” Jensen greets Van, his 17-year-old Palomino Morgan gelding, the horse he chose six years ago when he first came to work at Morgan Ranch. Although, truth be told, the horse chose him. He still remembers the day he walked into the pasture, following Jeff Morgan’s instructions, and Van walked right up to him.
“Horses can smell your fear, so be confident,” Morgan had told him that day. “Just talk quietly to him and he’ll let you slip your halter on, nice and easy.”
Van’s a quiet, steady horse, not showy and skittish like Jared’s mare, Scoot. The two horses fit well together, balancing each other’s personality traits so that they make perfect companions. They’re both well-trained cow ponies, able to adjust to any rider, and Jensen knows they get ridden and worked by other cowboys throughout the year. But Jensen likes to think of them as his and Jared’s special horses anyway.
He’s halfway done saddling and packing Van by the time Jared joins him.
“Oh man, that second bowl of chili was even better than the first,” Jared groans as he throws his saddle over the top of the fence. “Now I need a nap.”
“Once we get the cattle moved out, you can sleep in the saddle,” Jensen tells him with a chuckle. “Just don’t ride too close to me for a couple of hours.”
“What? You think I fart too much?” Jared feigns indignation.
“Oh, I know you do,” Jensen says. “I ain’t riding downwind of you till you’re done digesting, is all I’m saying.”
Palicki, Olsson, and Cohen join Jared and Jensen for the first part of the cattle drive. Getting the cattle moving in the right direction at the start of the drive always takes a few extra hands. Palicki opens the gate to the cattle pen and the cattle flow out. The rest of the cowboys and the dogs drive the cattle onto the trail toward the valley, circling and shouting to keep them together. Jared and Jensen take up the rear, and within the hour they’re well underway.
When Olsson and the others turn back to camp, Jensen breathes a sigh of relief. Alone at last. The other cowboys will finish up the round-up, bringing the last strays down the mountain with them after they pack up the camp, collecting any cattle that leave the herd as they go.
It’s a beautiful fall day, golden light from the yellow sun already low on the horizon by mid-afternoon. Jensen steals glances at Jared, admires the natural, easy way he keeps Scoot in line, managing every skittish behavior with a sure hand and a soft reassuring word. They ride separated for most of the afternoon, keeping the herd together and heading down the trail, so they don’t have time to chat, but Jensen’s got plenty of time to watch.
Jared just gets better-looking every day. Riding tall in his saddle, directing his horse with just a subtle press of his strong thighs, Jared looks like a work of art. Jensen wishes he could paint so he could capture Jared’s beauty, the free and easy way he moves, the flashing grin and pretty eyes.
Jensen wishes he knew how to make a movie. He would cast Jared in the lead and the whole film would be Jared on horseback, herding cattle with that earnest expression on his sun-tanned face.
How did he get that sun tan out in space? He looks like he spent all summer outside right here on Earth. It suits him.
If Jensen had his way, he’d keep Jared right here, on Earth, forever. The kid obviously belongs here. He sure as hell belongs with Jensen, whether he realizes it or not.
Jensen’s a little obsessed.
//**//**//
One of Morgan’s automated drones greets them at the first campsite, just as the sun settles low on the horizon. The drone will “watch” the cattle as Jared and Jensen sleep, waking them up at the first sign of trouble. There are wolves and cougars in these mountains, although Jensen’s never seen one.
“At least we don’t have to worry about bandits, like they did back in the old days,” Jared says as they climb down off their horses and lead them to the stream to drink.
“Did you read that in Morgan’s book?” Jensen asks.
Jared nods. “In the old days, cattle drives could take as much as two months to cover 1,000 miles.”
“How many head are we talking?” Jensen asks.
Jared shrugs. “It differed,” he says. “Sometimes ten cowboys could move eleven-hundred head of cattle that distance or more.”
Jensen whistles. “That’s a lot of cattle.”
Jared nods. “They had a cook and a chuck-wagon for meals,” he says. “And two cowboys stayed up each night to keep watch.”
“You don’t say.”
Jensen’s grateful for Morgan’s smaller, more intimate operation. It hadn’t occurred to him that things could be different. He’s not sure he would’ve agreed to do this if he couldn’t spend time alone with Jared.
On second thought, he’d probably be here even if he’d never met Jared. He just wants to keep doing it, now that he has.
The herd grazes contentedly while Jared starts a campfire and Jensen sets up the tent. It promises to be a cold night. Once the fire’s going well, they break out their foil food packets and drop them into the coals to cook. Trail food isn’t as hearty and tasty as the stew they ate for lunch back at the camp, but it’s nutritious enough. When the food is ready, they use tongs to remove them from the fire, and Jensen uses his Swiss army knife to cut the packets open. They squat side by side next to the fire, using their knives to eat, drinking water collected from the stream in their tin cups.
“This is pretty much how cowboys ate on the trail in the old days,” Jared says.
“I bet they didn’t have foil food packets in those days,” Jensen suggests.
“They ate a lot of dried meat and fish,” Jared agrees. “Nothing fresh unless they could catch a rabbit or fish or something and eat it the same day. No refrigeration.”
Jensen finishes his food packet and gets up to check on the horses, making sure they’re on a long tether for the night so they don’t wander away. He brushes them down, makes sure there’s plenty of grass nearby for them to graze. When he gets back to the campfire, Jared’s playing a harmonica. The sound rises high and lonely in the night. Jensen pulls over a log and sits down to listen, poking the fire with a stick.
“Did you find that in the bunkhouse?” he asks when the song finishes.
Jared nods. He’s staring at the fire, unusually pensive all of a sudden. Jensen thinks he knows how he feels.
“Can I try?” he asks, putting out his hand for the harmonica.
Jared hands it to him, fingers brushing Jensen’s, and Jensen tries not to shiver. He puts the harmonica to his lips, and he can’t help thinking he can taste Jared, just a little. He experiments for a few minutes, getting the feel of the instrument, then plays a song he remembers from his childhood.
“Wow, that was beautiful,” Jared comments when he finishes. “Did you write that?”
Jensen shrugs. “My mom sang it to me when I was little,” he admits. “I can’t even remember the words, just the melody.”
“You have real musical talent,” Jared says. His tone is so sincere it makes Jensen blush.
“Not much, really,” Jensen protests.
“No, really, Jensen, you do,” Jared insists. “Maybe you got it from your mother. You said she could sing.”
Jensen thinks about that for a moment, then nods. “She could.”
Jared draws a breath. “How old were you when she died?” he asks softly.
“Six.”
They’ve talked about their families before. It was something they had in common, both losing their parents young. Jared never knew his folks, as they died when he was a baby. He was raised by an aunt and uncle who loved him like their own son, and when they passed away he was only fifteen.
Jensen was taken in by his Uncle Jim after his mother died. He never knew his dad. His uncle had been a friend of Jeff Morgan, which is how he came to work for Morgan in the first place. When Uncle Jim passed away, Jensen was fifteen and on his own, just as Jared had been.
“You really need to get some musical training,” Jared says. “You’ve obviously inherited some serious talent there.”
Jensen barks out a laugh. “Okay, I’ll trade you, promise for a promise,” he says. “I’ll get some musical training if you go back to school and stretch that big brain of yours. Deal?”
Jared chuckles. “Maybe,” he half-promises.
Jensen’s belly swoops. He loves this kid so much it hurts. It goes beyond mere physical attraction, although there’s bucket-loads of that, for sure. He wants what’s best for Jared. Jensen wants Jared to fulfill his potential, to become the fully-realized person Jensen’s just sure he’s meant to be.
Even if that means growing out of his friendship with Jensen.
When they turn in for the night, Jensen keeps his back turned to the younger man, who does the same. They fall asleep back-to-back, but Jensen knows they’ll probably end up in each other’s arms. It’s not something he can help, when he’s unconscious. He just hopes Jared doesn’t mind too much.
Sure enough, at the crack of dawn, Jensen wakes up with Jared’s head on his chest, his arm around his waist, their legs tangled together under their shared blanket. He lies still until Jared stirs and extricates himself with a sleepy, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jensen assures him. “You’re very warm. Thanks for keeping me warm, too.”
Jared sits up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, and looks down at Jensen, shaking his head.
“How can you look so good when you first wake up?” Jared asks.
Jensen rolls his eyes, snorts. “You wanna make the coffee?”
Jared makes a face. “If I do, it’s your turn tomorrow morning.”
“Deal.”
Jensen tries not to watch Jared as he opens the tent flap to climb out into the cold morning air. He’s wearing long johns, same as Jensen, and they hug the rounded curve of his ass like they were painted on. He bends over, pulls his boots on, then disappears around the corner of the tent to take a piss. Jensen lies back and pulls the covers up to his chin, fighting the urge to jerk one off in the warm space where Jared’s body lay just moments before.
Getting himself under control with a sharp grunt, Jensen reaches for his clothes, mostly pulling them on before starting to climb out of the tent just as Jared dives back inside.
“It’s freezing out there!” he announces unnecessarily.
Jensen chuckles as Jared pulls the blankets around himself, shivering violently.
“I’ll make the coffee,” Jensen says, rolling his eyes as he pulls on his coat and gloves before exiting the tent, hat in hand.
Jensen stokes the fire and gets the coffee going in record time, so that when Jared joins him, it’s already simmering in its little tin pot. Jared squats next to him, bare hands palms down over the fire. He rubs them together, blowing on them, then lets them warm up over the fire again before accepting a steaming cup of coffee from Jensen. They huddle side-by-side for warmth, devouring their heated breakfast rations and sipping their coffee until they can’t delay a moment longer.
“I’ll check on the herd,” Jared says, and Jensen tries not to sigh as he climbs to his feet and pulls his gloves on. He misses Jared’s closeness immediately.
As Jensen packs up the horses and puts out the fire, he reminds himself that he needs to get his feelings for Jared under control. He knows better than to assume Jared feels the same way. Jared likes him, sure. But he just likes him. Jared likes everybody.
So when Jared asks him where he’s going after this job, Jensen tries not to get too excited.
“I don’t know,” Jensen admits. “Back to Titan for more mining, I guess.”
They ride side-by-side today. The trail is clear, the herd seems to get it that they’re heading home, and it’s easy. It’s another beautiful fall day with sunshine and blue skies. It’s as close to Heaven as Jensen can imagine.
“Yeah,” Jared agrees with a sigh. “I guess I’ll head back to Europa. Diamond mining might be dangerous, but it sure is lucrative.”
Jensen doesn’t like the idea of Jared doing anything dangerous. He feels a grumpy sulk coming on.
“If you want, I’ll put in a word with the boss on Titan,” Jensen offers. “You can come with me.”
“Naw,” Jared says with a shake of his head. “I like making money.”
“Yet you come here every year,” Jensen reminds him. “The pay’s shit.”
“But this?” Jared waves his arm at the luscious scenery, then leans down over Scoot’s neck and gives her a pat. “And this? Wouldn’t miss it for all the diamonds on Europa.”
Jared looks up at Jensen, squints against the rising run.
“Besides. I’ve got you. My best cowboy buddy.”
Jensen grins, his sulk dissipating under Jared’s frank, friendly gaze.
“It’s almost perfect,” Jensen agrees.
They stop for lunch along the same stream they camped next to the previous night. It feels too good to climb down off Van and unsaddle him for an hour. Jensen’s thighs ache from being in the saddle almost two days. His gait is more bow-legged than usual.
He catches Jared watching him, catches what looks like heat in his eyes. Then Jared grins wide and the illusion breaks. Couldn’t have been heat anyway, Jensen reminds himself. Jared’s not that into him. At least not in that way.
They lie side by side on the grassy bank of the stream, letting the sun loll them into a comfortable doze. Jensen feels rather than hears Jared pushing up on one elbow to look down into Jensen’s almost-sleeping face. The sun’s warmth and light disappear and Jensen opens his eyes to find Jared gazing down at him, the sun behind his head creating a halo, his face completely in shadow.
“What?”
Jared shakes his head. “You’re just so pretty.”
“Shut up.”
Jared grins, sits back so that the sun returns to warm Jensen’s face. He closes his eyes again.
The afternoon ride is steep, and by the time they stop for the night, the cattle are as tired as the cowboys. At least the air is warmer. As they settle into the tent to sleep, Jensen considers that this may be their last night needing the tent. His chest aches at the thought of losing this closeness and intimacy with Jared, as brief as it’s been. Inside the tent, it’s just them, the rest of the world shut out and far away, the warmth of their bodies and breath creating a cozy little haven that Jensen will sorely miss when it’s gone.
He falls asleep listening to Jared’s even breathing.
When he wakes in the night with Jared plastered against his back, it takes Jensen a moment to realize what woke him.
Then Jared moves, and Jensen feels the unmistakable shape of Jared’s erection nestled into his ass crack. Jared ruts again, and for a moment Jensen thinks he must be doing it in his sleep. Then he feels Jared’s warm, wet mouth on the back of his neck, his tongue slipping along the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Jared ruts again, two or three times at first, then more, his movements becoming a steady grind against Jensen’s ass. His arm is around Jensen’s waist, and as Jensen presses back against him, Jared moans. He slides his hand up Jensen’s chest, anchors himself against Jensen’s shoulder, and sucks at the juncture of Jensen’s neck. His rutting gets faster, harder, and his breathing becomes gasps, and pants against Jensen’s neck.
They’re both fully clothed, their full-body jumpsuits an unrelenting barrier, but Jared’s obviously getting what he needs. Jensen slides his hand down to give his own erection a little action, matching Jared’s rhythm, and it doesn’t take long.
Jared bites into the meat of Jensen’s shoulder as he comes, sending Jensen over the edge. As he starts to come down from his orgasm, he hears Jared mutter, “Sorry, sorry” as he rolls away.
Jensen reaches behind him, finds Jared’s arm, and pats it.
“Go to sleep, Jay.”
PART TWO