Introduction and Fic!
1) Name? Bliss
2) Fandom Niche? Bandom, Prison Break, Chuck and whatever other random things I happen to stumble upon. Like this.
3) Why did you see "3:10 to Yuma"? Funnily enough, the only reason I watched it is because my dad wanted to see it. So I got it from Netflix for us to watch together. Usually, I hate Westerns. I mean, anything with John Wayne in it and I'm changing the channel. But this was fucking awesome.
4) Who was your favorite character? Why? Ben Wade. It's hard to tell exactly what his motivations are at any given point in time. I like that kind of mystery.
5) Why did you like the movie? Terrific acting. Also, the plot was paced nicely and I love any movie where the ending is ambiguous.
6) Anything else you want to add? How about a fic?
Title: Surefire
Author: Bliss
Rating: R?
Word Count: 1,322
Characters: Ben Wade/Charlie Prince
Summary: Ben thinks back on Charlie.
Warnings: None, I think.
Maybe if Ben had found Charlie when Charlie was younger, maybe ten or eleven, or older, maybe on past twenty, things would've turned out different. Instead, Ben stumbled onto Charlie's path when the kid was nearly fifteen. At the time, Ben was up to his usual tricks, trying to rob the railroads just 'cause they were easy pickings. Charlie was working off some debt or another to the boss of a railroad crew out around Rio Gila. Despite his thin frame, the kid was pounding stakes just as hard as the Irishmen beside him. Even from a distance, Ben could tell the kid had a fire burning inside him. Something licking at his insides and making him twitch like he was just waiting for the right moment to burn everything down around him.
That moment turned out to be when Ben was robbing the payroll along with his gang. Charlie came right on up with a shotgun like nothin' doin'. One of the gang was damned near close to shooting the kid's head off when Ben held up his hand to stop him. The kid said he was comin' with them whether they liked it or not. Rest of the guys laughed themselves silly over that but Ben just held out his hand to help the kid swing up behind him.
Next couple of years, members of the gang came and went, got arrested, died and so on, but Charlie was always there. Even when Ben himself wound up in prison, Charlie would hover just at the end of the yard, sizing up the guards. More than once, Charlie broke him out of a holding cell. He was more faithful than a dog and at least twice as dangerous.
Ben was never sure when the loyalty turned into lust, when the hero worship turned into blind faith, when the dedication turned into obsession. It was like one day he woke up and saw things for what they really were and couldn't believe he had managed not to notice all along. Suddenly, everything Charlie did was suspect to Ben.
Once, they were back around Rio Gila and Charlie disappeared for half a day. That in itself was odd. Ben was usually the one to push Charlie away; usually because he was trying to seduce some women in his ever-elusive search for someone who was already long past dead.
When Charlie showed up at the hotel that night, his hair had this odd tint to it. Almost like he had tried something cooked up by the local apothecary and it went horribly wrong, except the little specs of red on his otherwise pristine store-bought shirt told otherwise. Ben watched Charlie warily from his perch on the window sill. The boy never did look quite sane, but tonight he looked positively mad.
"I done it," Charlie said quietly.
"Done what?"
"I killed him. I killed that damn bastard. That damn Union bastard."
Ben wasn't all that shocked; Charlie took to killing like a duck to water. He was never shook up about it though. Not like this. Not over anything other than Ben being locked up.
Charlie didn't say anything more on the subject. He went to the basin and scrubbed at his fingers, staining the water in the bowl pink. Maybe he shot the guy first, but the blood on his hands showed he took his sweet time with the killing. Ben was never sure why Charlie owed a debt to the railroad boss and he never thought to ask.
"Fuck, fuck fuck," Charlie swore and then he picked up the pitcher of water and hurled it into the wall, right next to Ben's head.
"Charlie."
Usually, Charlie snapped to attention when he used that tone of voice. Obviously, this wasn't exactly a normal night because Charlie sank to his knees and held his hands in his head instead. His body rocked back and forth and he kept repeating some phrase over and over again at just a whisper.
Ben was torn between the urge to sketch the moment down on paper or to knock some sense into the kid. He took long strides across the room and hauled Charlie to his feet by the collar of his shirt.
"What the hell is goin' on, boy?"
There was fear in Charlie's eye, genuine terror. Charlie had never looked at Ben like that before and it somehow seemed hurtful. He shoved Charlie against the wall and shook him a bit.
"I asked you a question."
"You don't know what it was like," Charlie said as though he was lost in a dream.
"You ain't makin' no goddamn sense," Ben spat at him.
"The things he's done to me. I can't even tell you…"
Charlie snapped out of it a bit after he said that. Ben waited to hear what the hell he meant, but Charlie just shook his head a bit.
"I best be gettin' some rest, Boss. Long day tomorrow."
Ben let him go against his better judgment and went back to the window sill. He watched Charlie strip down to his long johns and climb into the narrow bed. Wasn't long before the kid was dead to the world. Ben was about to get up and see about getting one last shot of whiskey down in the saloon when Charlie started screaming to high hell.
"Goddamnit, Charlie," Ben muttered.
He went over and shook the kid, trying to wake him up before the rest of the patrons did. Charlie grabbed him by the front of his shirt and looked at him with wide eyes.
"You won't let them get me, Ben. You won't, will you?"
"No, I won't," Ben said just to get the kid to let go.
Charlie pulled him closer instead. "I love you, you know that."
"Yeah, I know."
More than he wanted to, in fact. He didn't know what to do with Charlie's deep well of affection and admiration. Sure as shit didn't know what to do when Charlie kissed him other than knock his head in or let him. He went with the latter because it looked like Charlie had had enough head knocking for one day.
He meant to pull away after a few seconds, but he didn't. He meant to push Charlie away when the kid reached for the fly of his pants, but he didn't. He meant to stop Charlie from touching his dick, but he didn't. He meant to tell the kid he didn't have to suck Ben off like some whore in an alley, but he didn't. He meant to hold back, but he came down the kid's throat instead.
The look Charlie gave him afterward, like he had been waiting for his moment his whole life, was enough to make Ben sick. He zipped up and stomped down to the saloon. Didn't even stop for a shot of whiskey before he took off on his horse. Couple of days later he found Charlie again and told him about the plan to rob the Pinkertons of the payroll.
They rounded up a crew and headed out to make another fortune. Charlie's eyes had always been cold, but now they burned frozen, like ice against your bare skin. Ben could see from the moment they met up with the rancher what path things would most likely take. He could see the jealousy in Charlie's eyes and knew one day that would lead to his blood staining Charlie's hands. Only Ben wouldn't be there to keep him level and Charlie would end up burning his short fuse down until he exploded, his rage knocking down anyone who stood in his path, be it man, woman or child.
Maybe if they had met at different point in time, he wouldn't have seen that look of betrayal in Charlie's eyes right before he shot him dead, but he did and he would have to live with it.
2) Fandom Niche? Bandom, Prison Break, Chuck and whatever other random things I happen to stumble upon. Like this.
3) Why did you see "3:10 to Yuma"? Funnily enough, the only reason I watched it is because my dad wanted to see it. So I got it from Netflix for us to watch together. Usually, I hate Westerns. I mean, anything with John Wayne in it and I'm changing the channel. But this was fucking awesome.
4) Who was your favorite character? Why? Ben Wade. It's hard to tell exactly what his motivations are at any given point in time. I like that kind of mystery.
5) Why did you like the movie? Terrific acting. Also, the plot was paced nicely and I love any movie where the ending is ambiguous.
6) Anything else you want to add? How about a fic?
Title: Surefire
Author: Bliss
Rating: R?
Word Count: 1,322
Characters: Ben Wade/Charlie Prince
Summary: Ben thinks back on Charlie.
Warnings: None, I think.
Maybe if Ben had found Charlie when Charlie was younger, maybe ten or eleven, or older, maybe on past twenty, things would've turned out different. Instead, Ben stumbled onto Charlie's path when the kid was nearly fifteen. At the time, Ben was up to his usual tricks, trying to rob the railroads just 'cause they were easy pickings. Charlie was working off some debt or another to the boss of a railroad crew out around Rio Gila. Despite his thin frame, the kid was pounding stakes just as hard as the Irishmen beside him. Even from a distance, Ben could tell the kid had a fire burning inside him. Something licking at his insides and making him twitch like he was just waiting for the right moment to burn everything down around him.
That moment turned out to be when Ben was robbing the payroll along with his gang. Charlie came right on up with a shotgun like nothin' doin'. One of the gang was damned near close to shooting the kid's head off when Ben held up his hand to stop him. The kid said he was comin' with them whether they liked it or not. Rest of the guys laughed themselves silly over that but Ben just held out his hand to help the kid swing up behind him.
Next couple of years, members of the gang came and went, got arrested, died and so on, but Charlie was always there. Even when Ben himself wound up in prison, Charlie would hover just at the end of the yard, sizing up the guards. More than once, Charlie broke him out of a holding cell. He was more faithful than a dog and at least twice as dangerous.
Ben was never sure when the loyalty turned into lust, when the hero worship turned into blind faith, when the dedication turned into obsession. It was like one day he woke up and saw things for what they really were and couldn't believe he had managed not to notice all along. Suddenly, everything Charlie did was suspect to Ben.
Once, they were back around Rio Gila and Charlie disappeared for half a day. That in itself was odd. Ben was usually the one to push Charlie away; usually because he was trying to seduce some women in his ever-elusive search for someone who was already long past dead.
When Charlie showed up at the hotel that night, his hair had this odd tint to it. Almost like he had tried something cooked up by the local apothecary and it went horribly wrong, except the little specs of red on his otherwise pristine store-bought shirt told otherwise. Ben watched Charlie warily from his perch on the window sill. The boy never did look quite sane, but tonight he looked positively mad.
"I done it," Charlie said quietly.
"Done what?"
"I killed him. I killed that damn bastard. That damn Union bastard."
Ben wasn't all that shocked; Charlie took to killing like a duck to water. He was never shook up about it though. Not like this. Not over anything other than Ben being locked up.
Charlie didn't say anything more on the subject. He went to the basin and scrubbed at his fingers, staining the water in the bowl pink. Maybe he shot the guy first, but the blood on his hands showed he took his sweet time with the killing. Ben was never sure why Charlie owed a debt to the railroad boss and he never thought to ask.
"Fuck, fuck fuck," Charlie swore and then he picked up the pitcher of water and hurled it into the wall, right next to Ben's head.
"Charlie."
Usually, Charlie snapped to attention when he used that tone of voice. Obviously, this wasn't exactly a normal night because Charlie sank to his knees and held his hands in his head instead. His body rocked back and forth and he kept repeating some phrase over and over again at just a whisper.
Ben was torn between the urge to sketch the moment down on paper or to knock some sense into the kid. He took long strides across the room and hauled Charlie to his feet by the collar of his shirt.
"What the hell is goin' on, boy?"
There was fear in Charlie's eye, genuine terror. Charlie had never looked at Ben like that before and it somehow seemed hurtful. He shoved Charlie against the wall and shook him a bit.
"I asked you a question."
"You don't know what it was like," Charlie said as though he was lost in a dream.
"You ain't makin' no goddamn sense," Ben spat at him.
"The things he's done to me. I can't even tell you…"
Charlie snapped out of it a bit after he said that. Ben waited to hear what the hell he meant, but Charlie just shook his head a bit.
"I best be gettin' some rest, Boss. Long day tomorrow."
Ben let him go against his better judgment and went back to the window sill. He watched Charlie strip down to his long johns and climb into the narrow bed. Wasn't long before the kid was dead to the world. Ben was about to get up and see about getting one last shot of whiskey down in the saloon when Charlie started screaming to high hell.
"Goddamnit, Charlie," Ben muttered.
He went over and shook the kid, trying to wake him up before the rest of the patrons did. Charlie grabbed him by the front of his shirt and looked at him with wide eyes.
"You won't let them get me, Ben. You won't, will you?"
"No, I won't," Ben said just to get the kid to let go.
Charlie pulled him closer instead. "I love you, you know that."
"Yeah, I know."
More than he wanted to, in fact. He didn't know what to do with Charlie's deep well of affection and admiration. Sure as shit didn't know what to do when Charlie kissed him other than knock his head in or let him. He went with the latter because it looked like Charlie had had enough head knocking for one day.
He meant to pull away after a few seconds, but he didn't. He meant to push Charlie away when the kid reached for the fly of his pants, but he didn't. He meant to stop Charlie from touching his dick, but he didn't. He meant to tell the kid he didn't have to suck Ben off like some whore in an alley, but he didn't. He meant to hold back, but he came down the kid's throat instead.
The look Charlie gave him afterward, like he had been waiting for his moment his whole life, was enough to make Ben sick. He zipped up and stomped down to the saloon. Didn't even stop for a shot of whiskey before he took off on his horse. Couple of days later he found Charlie again and told him about the plan to rob the Pinkertons of the payroll.
They rounded up a crew and headed out to make another fortune. Charlie's eyes had always been cold, but now they burned frozen, like ice against your bare skin. Ben could see from the moment they met up with the rancher what path things would most likely take. He could see the jealousy in Charlie's eyes and knew one day that would lead to his blood staining Charlie's hands. Only Ben wouldn't be there to keep him level and Charlie would end up burning his short fuse down until he exploded, his rage knocking down anyone who stood in his path, be it man, woman or child.
Maybe if they had met at different point in time, he wouldn't have seen that look of betrayal in Charlie's eyes right before he shot him dead, but he did and he would have to live with it.