FIC: In Grace (Ray Levoi/Walter Crow Horse, PG-13)
TITLE: In Grace
RATING: PG-13
FANDOM: Thunderheart
PAIRING: Ray Levoi/Walter Crow Horse
SUMMARY: Takes no match to give me a spark.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: For writers_choice prompt #413: horse. Title and summary from The Cardigans’ “A Good Horse.”
To live like I must,
And ride with the dust in my face-
In grace.
-The Cardigans, “A Good Horse”
You can’t go on wishing for things without planning to roll up your sleeves and do something about it. If life taught you anything, it was that there was no power higher than your own good hands. That was what got things done, no higher power or hope or faith, or any such damn thing.
Still. Maybe there’s something to wishing.
***
The bar is half holding Crow Horse up, but his hand is steady around the cool, sweat-slicked bottle of beer. Beside him, Nicky wipes the perspiration off his own bottle like he’s shining up a lamp, waiting on the genie to pop out. He follows Crow Horse’s line of sight through the crush of the dance floor, to where Junior and Isaac are leaning against the side of the pool table and Ray is cuing up. Ray bends over the table, the line of the cue parallel to the line of his spine, and Junior bends in half, laughing so hard his eyes squeeze shut and his beer streams onto the floor, his hand shaking too hard to hold the bottle still. Crow Horse sees Ray roll his eyes. Linda Ronstadt is on the jukebox, singing “It’s So Easy,” and the music and the dance floor are between them; Crow Horse reads Ray’s lips forming the words, “Fuck you, Junior,” as he sinks his ball cleanly into the pocket.
“He’s coming along,” Nicky says.
“Second game he’s won tonight,” Crow Horse says with no small amount of pride. “Now if we could just get him good at cards.”
Nicky arches an eyebrow. “Ain’t what I meant, cousin.”
Crow Horse finishes his beer, feels it settle in his gut. He settles his weight onto his heels, watches his vision waver for a moment, ever so slightly.
“Oh,” he says. “That.”
He remembers Ray’s first night on the rez, how he tossed and turned trying to get used to the silence, how a coyote howled near first light and Ray’s hand went to his gun hanging by its holster from the bedpost.
“He’s settlin’ in all right,” Crow Horse says.
“Been here almost a year,” Nicky presses.
“And? You plannin’ on giving me a lecture about living in sin?”
Nicky doesn’t say anything, and when Crow Horse turns to look, Nicky averts his eyes. Crow Horse can see the words floating like subtitles below his face, though: “We never thought he’d stay this long.”
Crow Horse turns to the bar and orders a Coke, and it is sweating on the bar moments later when Ray comes up, flushed with his victory, and smiling.
Ray stretches between the crush of bodies at the busy bar to grab his soda, and Crow Horse lets his hand rest for a moment at the small of Ray’s back. Ray drains his glass in one deep swallow, and takes Crow Horse’s hand, leans in close.
“Dance with me.”
Crow Horse is surprised, because Ray is still skittish about public affection, but he isn’t one to let an opportunity go untried, so he follows Ray out to the dance floor. Bodies are close around them, elbows and shoulders jostling them in one unified rhythm, but Ray presses himself closer, settling into Crow Horse’s arms. He fits perfectly. Crow Horse remembers the first night, the ache in his bones from the long ride out to DC from the rez, Ray’s hair in his fist. How bad Ray shook, but how he never pulled away. How they came together and Ray just fit perfectly, like he was the cast to Crow Horse’s mold.
They’ve been together long enough that they don’t fight too much anymore about who leads, and they fall into the hive rhythm, moving as one. Crow Horse rests his hands around Ray’s waist, and Ray is taller but he bends his head a little so they’re on the same level, cheek to cheek.
The song goes slower, and Crow Horse thinks Ray will bolt, but he doesn’t; he just settles in to the new rhythm, and presses himself closer into Crow Horse’s embrace. It’s late, past night and into morning the next day, and at first when Ray whispers, “Take me home,” Crow Horse thinks he’s just worn out, but then Ray meets his eyes and it’s enough of an explanation.
Ray lingers at the door, impatient, while Crow Horse goes to the bar to settle up. Nicky puts his hand on his shoulder, says something about how the night’s still young.
“I gotta go,” Crow Horse says. Nicky starts up again, and Crow Horse says, “I’ve got. To go,” and this time Nicky gets it, and grins, and lets Crow Horse in his distraction cover both their tabs.
Crow Horse makes his way through the crowd and takes Ray’s hand, and leads him out into the starlit night.