forum place i belong // oxo // closed

Started June 13, 2023 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

Clara turned from where she was stood over the stove top, a worn metal pan positioned over the soft flame that was sizzling with bacon, crispy and ready to be eaten. The woman was short, very much so, it was clear that Kit got his height from his father considering Clara was barely five foot two. She had the same piercing green eyes as her son, and the same soft brown hair that was currently tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of her face while cooking. There were clear smile lines on her face to show her age, but she didn't look a day over forty all things considered, "Oh you can drop the formalities," She said, shaking Dane's hand quickly, "Clara is perfectly fine."

Grabbing a spatula, she transferred the bacon from the stove to a plate, "Really you have Kit to thank for savin' you," She said, turning off the stove, "He carried you, stitched you up, spent ages frettin' over you the poor thing!"

"Mama!" Kit whined, going beat red at that little tidbit of information she had decided to share. He distracted himself by washing his hands, refusing to dare even more than a glance in Dane's direction in case he saw how red his cheeks were. He took a seat at the table, which was covered in fresh toast from homemade bread, some pastries with some sort of berry jam, eggs, and of course, the bacon, with freshly squeezed juice already in glasses for them both.

Clara couldn't help but grin, "Now, wash your hands and take a seat. If you boys eat all this then I'll make sure to bring some more. Oh! and Dane, I'll go fetch you some painkillers, I have no doubt your side is killing you." Moving swiftly, Clara grabbed the plate of bacon and placed it on the table. She ruffled Kit's hair, and it only made him go more red, before hurrying out the room.

Dane studies the woman, feeling almost awkward being nearly a foot taller than her yet feeling so small. He can easily spot what makes her Kit's mother. She got them angel eyes. The smile too. "Sorry, ma'am–Clara–it's a habit." He doesn't like pissing off people he doesn't have to. His father got pissy when Dane didn't respond to everything with "yessir". He's polite when he's not firing a fatal bullet or swiping a year's worth of rent. 

Dane smiles, watching as Kit's face reddens. He definitely ignores the swoop his stomach does imagining Kit worrying over his unconscious body. Sewing him up. Being gentle. Holding Dane's stupid life so carefully in his hands and deciding to save it–Dane swallows the ball forming in his throat and is suddenly hyperaware that he's shirtless, save for the bandages, and his ribs are so clearly on display through his thin skin. God, he's hungry. God, he's desperate for the same sort of security that Kit and his mama share in this pretty little house.

"Yes ma'am," Dane agrees. Alcohol is hardly a good solution. There's no doubt Dane's liver is hating him every damn day for the poison he gives it. He watches Clara scuttle out of the room, chest filled with some sort of achy emotion he does not like. "She's nice," Dane says gently. Dane wonders if his own mother would be so kind when not swamped with work. It hurts that he can't remember what she was like outside of her white uniform dress. Slowly, he cleans his hands beneath the cool water of the sink. There's a photo sitting in the windowsill. Family of seven. The house is awfully quiet for a supposed family of seven. "Do you have siblings?" Dane inquires as he dries his hands on a patterned towel. After staring at the photograph for a few more moments, he finally turns away and takes a seat beside Kit at the pleasant little dining table.

Clara nearly made a comment about the formalities while she hurried out of the room but she didn't. For now, she would let it slide. But at least the stranger that would no doubt be living in her house for a while was polite. Good, it also meant she didn't have to worry about Kit, either. Lord knows the kid could get into trouble when he wanted. Not so much anymore, but it didn't stop the woman from worrying about her eldest son.

Kit started to load up his plate as Dane washed and dried his hands, placing warm toast with butter and jam on his plate, eggs, bacon, and making sure he had enough for five people in order to fill his stomach. He might not have been like Dane and be unable to have a good, full meal every day, but lord knows he was still hungry. All the time. Probably because he worked day in and day out on the farm and only ever stopped to eat. The more energy he had the more he was able to do and get done. And working on a farm meant there was far too much for him to do, especially when he was the only one doing it.

He crunched on a piece of toast and hummed at Dane's question. He swallowed before resting his elbows against the table as he spoke, "Four of 'em," He replied, "Five kids in this family. But they all go to school in the city." A small shrug, "All younger, too. Menaces, the lot of 'em. Maybe they'll come visit while you're 'ere and you could meet 'em." It would be a packed house then if they did. But Kit knew his Mama wanted them home soon. It had been far too long since they had come to visit. Even Kit was starting to miss them.

"All the way in the city?" Dane repeats with a whistle. The chair creaks quietly as he leans back in it. He knows there's a train station nearby, one with a mighty ornery station master that doesn't take too kindly to criminals trying to hitch a ride outta town. "Must be studyin' to be something fancy." Doctors or lawyers or congressmen or something like that. It's kinda funny how different they compare to Kit. The angel. "It'd be nice to meet them." It would be fascinating to play spot the difference between the hoard of siblings, but Dane knows there's no promise of to how long he'll stay. For all he knows, he'll be out of this pleasant little farm as soon as his wound is healed.

Dane carefully studies the array of food displayed across the table. There's a plate in front of him and another in the spot across from him set for Clara. The plate is empty. It could be filled but it almost makes Dane nauseous. God, he's hungry. He's been hungry for weeks now, but he's far too frightened to risk making himself sick. It's happened before–eating until he's dizzy and faint and vomiting over the floor. Living off rice and jerky and alcohol hasn't exactly been the best survival strategy. Carefully, Dane reaches forward and plucks a singular piece of toast from the pile and nibbles at the edge. As soon as he swallows, the hunger pains rack through his body at full force. He takes a larger bite and before he knows it, the piece is gone and he's reaching for another. 

Obviously, he doesn't pack his plate with as much food as Kit, but he opts for a third piece of toast, a few sausage links, and a couple spoonfuls of mixed fruit. Dane doesn't doubt it came straight from the farm, plucked fresh from the orchard. It's when he's reaching for a peach slice does he notice how his hand shakes. Maybe the shock from, y'know, getting shot and all that is finally wearing off.

Kit couldn't help his snort, "Studyin' to be somethin' fancy? Nah," He shook his head, "Well, at least not all of 'em. They're only there because Mama and Papa saved up a shit ton to get 'em there. Wanted the best outcome, y'know?" He munched on his toast with a soft sigh, "Give 'em a better education than the one I got. More opportunities."

It was something that Clara had felt guilty about when it came to her eldest son. They hadn't been able to afford to send Kit off to the city to board when he was their age. They barely had enough money to send the others. But Kit had been fine with the fact that he never got a fancy education, had expressed it enough to try and ease his mother's worries. He didn't need one when his task and job of the family was to take care of the farm. Unlike the others, who, although looked up to Kit as the 'perfect child' wanted to see the big city before they decided what they wanted to do with their lives.

Everything would have been easier if they had been there. At least one of them. Kit had spoken to Otto on multiple occasions about his desire to stay back on the farm and help, but his Mama had shut that conversation down. Kit could still remember her words, claiming Otto was 'ungrateful' for the opportunities he was given that Kit had never got. How he should be glad he wasn't here and was getting a proper education and how when he was an adult he could decide what he wanted then. He was nearly eighteen, and Kit had no doubt the next time he came home he would be staying. Another helping hand would be much appreciated.

Dane listens carefully, taking a few careful bites from his peach slices. He eats them in three bites, saving the middle part for last after he eats each of the ends. Both of Kit's parents worked hard for their kids. They worked and they saved and they prayed for them to have a better future. Momentarily, Dane wonders what life would be like if his dad actually got out of his damn rocking chair and went out to work instead of waste away. The dual income would mean less stress for his mother. Maybe she wouldn't have taken that overtime shift. Maybe she wouldn't have encountered the patient who indirectly killed both her and her infant. Maybe Dane wouldn't've been driven to Dane sets his jaw and drops the middle section of his last peach slice back onto his plate. 

"If you coulda gone, wouldja have?" Dane inquires, raising an eyebrow. He tries to imagine Kit as something other than a farmhand. A banker is laughable. His shoulders are too wide to fit in their little cubicles. He doesn't quite seem to have the authoritative demeanor to go into politics. Maybe something in the business type sector could fit Kit the most, but those men are ruthless devils, always after another pocket of change. The Angel could never do such things. But Dane… Dane just might. After all, how is it much different from what he's done? The Robber Barons steal from their consumers by hiking the prices beyond imaginable. They kill their workers with foul working conditions. The only difference between them and Dane is one has the law and upper class to back them up. The other survives off of old beans and jerky and the kindness of angels. "I think I might've. Probably wouldn't've gotten shot if I wasn't stuck doing odd jobs." Another not-lie. Another not-truth.

Kit took a moment to think about his answer. Would he have gone, if given the opportunity? If Dane had asked that question when he was a teenager he would have said no without a second thought. Back then his only interest had been the farm. He had wanted to stay, to help, to only work on the farm and take care of his parents and the animals he loved so dearly. Since the moment he could walk he had been following his father around the farm and learning everything that he could, well into his tweens, and then his teens. Then his siblings came around, one by one and so close in age compared to him and the others, and then they were being sent into the city. Everything had changed when they had left. And changed again when his father grew sick and then sicker still. Now? Now he couldn't leave, even if he wanted to.

"Dunno," He settled upon softly, "Doesn't matter now anyways, got a farm to tend to." It was the best answer that he could think of.

Regardless, he thanked God that he didn't answer because Clara came back a moment later. The woman hurried into the room with a couple of bottles of pills and sat them in front of Dane, "Right, here you go, dear. Take two of each and the pain should lessen. If you want water instead of juice don't hesitate to grab some." She smiled, then took her own seat and grabbed some toast and fruit of her own.

Dane hums and pokes at his sausage link, unsure if he can really stomach it. He's eaten, what, two pieces of toast and half of a peach. It's more than he's had in a while. He wonders if he still has that half-empty can of beans in his bag. Knowing his luck, it probably all spilled out in his bag when he fell off his horse. Dane side-eyes Kit, trying to figure out exactly what he meant by it doesn't matter. Of course it could matter. Kit could be stuck here, tending honestly to the farm for the rest of his life. Monotonous, quiet, peaceful… Tedious, lonely, boring. 

He's knocked out of his mind when Clara comes bounding into the room with a bottle of medication in hand. "Thank you, ma'am," he says quietly as he reaches for the first bottle. He takes two of each, just as she ordered, and quickly knocks them back without any juice to help them go down. He screws each cap back on carefully and slides them one-by-one to her. Hopefully the medication won't take long, because Dane's hand is shaking even more, and the throbbing is beginning to work its way up to his head. Headaches are the damn worst. Dane looks down to his still half-full plate. Desperately trying to be polite, he finishes his sausage link and tries to not focus on how he can feel it fall in his stomach. He takes a few, careful breaths and blinks away the spots in his vision. He'll be fine. He will be fine. 

Stuck was one word for how Kit felt. Stuck and alone. He had his parents, sure, but they weren't really friends. And did cows really count as friends, too? They couldn't talk back. Couldn't contribute to a conversation. They were a comfort, yes, more than anything did Kit love the comfort he had from his animal friends, but it just wasn't the same. Not the same as having people, or at least one persona round the farm. It was why he loved when his siblings came home. After not seeing each other for months it was always good to catch up and revisit the farm with them. Like having friends again. It never lasted long, because they always had to leave again for the city, but for a short period of time, it was good. If only he was able to make friends.

Kit watched carefully as Dane took the pills and picked at his plate. Worry creased his features, and before he knew it, the young man was placing a hand on Dane's thigh, "You aight?" He asked softly, nerves and concern lighting up those deep green eyes. He noted how the other picked at the food on his plate, hadn't eaten as much as he should have considering his size. He was too skinny. Kit was going to make sure he put some meat on him while he stayed at the farm.

If Clara was concerned she didn't say anything, letting her son take care of it and instead focusing on the food on her plate. The others had eaten, and she still needed to.

The table goes quiet for a moment and Dane finds the silence heavy. He pokes a little more at his food, but it doesn't feel appetizing any longer. And then there's a hand on his thigh–one that halts his mind and sets his heart racing. Dane glances up at Kit with raised eyebrows, to the pretty little angel who's still basked in morning light. It takes his mind a second to catch up to what he could be referencing, but with one look at his plate, Dane's own question is answered. "Oh." He tries a smile. "Yeah, I'm a'ight. I just can't eat much or I get sick." He's done it before. It's far less pleasant than just dealing with the hunger. "It's been a long time since I've had a decent meal." He glances to Clara. "Thank you, again." 

After forcing down just one more peach slice, Dane pushes away his plate. It almost hurts to look at it. He almost feels guilty for not helping Kit eat such a feast. Clara must've spent forever making something like this for Dane, and he can't even summon the stomach to eat it. He knows he's skinny. He knows that he's a little sickly. He knows that his very visible ribs desperately need muscle on them, but how can he eat when food makes him sick? Dane pats at his side, missing the familiar weight of his bag against it. "Sorry to bother, Angel," he says in a low-ish voice. His eyes dart around the small interior of the house, trying to figure out which room could possibly be Kit's. "But could you help me get my bag?" 

Clara finishes her piece of toast before she replies to Dane, "We understand. I can imagine it would be hard to stomach much when you're not used to this amount of food," She gives him a kind smile, "Please, don't feel bad. None of the food here goes to waste. Kit will either eat it or the animals will. Sometimes I don't know who has the bigger appetite, my son or his farm friends." She chuckled and turned back to her food.

Kit could only roll his eyes and blush at his mother's words. But it was true. He did eat a lot. More food for five people than for one but he couldn't stop himself. It was hard work tending to the farm day in and day out. Any food that didn't get eaten at the end of the day went to the animals as treats and so everyone was fed and healthy and there was no issue. It was the way things ran around there. Kit just hoped Dane would be around long enough for him to understand and see that.

He turned to Dane with a soft smile when he speaks and is quick to stand, "Of course. We can get you some fresh clothes, too." He offers his hand to Dane and hopes the man will take it. He was sure that the other is more than capable of standing on his own but a selfish part of Kit wanted to hold his hand, if only for five minutes while he guided him through the home and to his room.

"I appreciate it, ma'am," Dane replies with a smile he hopes comes across as genuine enough. He ignores the fact that he had called her ma'am instead of Clara. It's always better to be polite than sorry, as Dane always says. Well, it's always better to be polite until he has to get a little rough. Until he's fighting for his life. Until he's forcing himself into another town and hoping that they won't read him like a book. "It's good food, I swear. I'm just sorry I can't eat it all." His eyes flick to Kit. "I'm sure he could." He tries a joke.

And then Kit's offering his hand and Dane would be lying if he said his heart didn't jump as he took it. Kit's easily four times as strong as him, pulling Dane to his feet as if he weighs nothing more than one of them hens he keeps in a coop. He laughs uneasily as he wobbles on his feet, his brain struggling to adjust to the sudden change in altitude. He blinks the spots in his vision away. His brain then catches up that Kit had said fresh clothes and Dane doesn't have any of those. He's sure the Angel will have plenty and they'll all hang right off of him like a dress. They'll be big and comfortable and they'll easily smell just like the farm boy. 

Dane just hopes he can play the sudden reddening of his cheeks off as a side-effect of his bullet wound. People round here don't get shot, right? They won't know any better, right? Only a little mortified, Dane clears his throat and sighs. "Right, Angel, where's this room of yours?" The house is small. There's not many options.

Clara was tempted to give Dane a look and a reprimand about calling her ma'am once again, but she decided to keep her mouth closed for the time being. He would get used to it. If he was around for as long as it took for that bullet wound to heal than she was sure that eventually the formalities around her would drop. Instead, she focused on her food and the morning paper that she had seated next to her.

Kit didn't want to let go of Dane's hand, and he didn't. He would play it off as wanting to make sure that the other man didn't fall over on their way to his room, considering the man wobbled when he stood ever so slightly, "This way." He guided him through the small hallway of the house and down to the far end of the space. There were two rooms at the far end of the hall - one of them was his, the other was his parents. He signalled to be quiet when they reached the end, and he pushed open his own door, ushered Dane inside, and shut it quietly behind him, making sure the door didn't slam or click too loudly so they didn't disturb his father.

His room was of decent size, not massive but comfortable. There was a larger than average bed by the window, a chest of drawers that doubled as a side table to the left and not much else in ways of decor. But the walls were filled with posters of cowboys and action heroes, there were photos of him and his family in frames both along the walls and on the draws, small horse figures on a shelf to one side of the room and a teddy bear on the light blue bed spread that looked worn and well loved. Dane's bag was hanging over the end of the bed frame.

(aldkfjadsd sorry it's short)

Dane follows Kit through the house, watching how he steps and ensuring he doesn't make a whole lot of racket. A guest should always be quiet, subtle and not a burden on the host's mind. Dane tries to fascinate himself with the surroundings, for if he spends his time thinking about how nice Kit's rough hand feels in his, Dane might as well self-destruct. Dane quiets (as if he was making noise to begin with) and lets Kit pull him into the room in a near fashion that two excited teenagers would, trying to be sneaky. 

With an exhale, Dane takes in the room around him. He smiles at the cowboy posters. "Have you ever met one?" he asks, pointing to the posters of various movie cowboys. Their guns are full of blanks. They couldn't hurt a fly, and if they did, there goes their precious, precarious reputation. Dane hardly qualifies as one of 'em handsome, rugged men that always get the girl in the end. His shoulders ain't broad. His voice ain't too husky. Hardly the hearthrob most are expecting. Carefully, Dane pulls away from Kit and sits himself down on the edge of the farmboy's bed. He pulls his bag from the frame and flips open the limp top. After taking a quick inventory of his few possessions, he slings the bag over his shoulder, the fabric of it brushing against the bare skin of his shoulders. With a startling realization, Dane remembers that his only type of shirt he's wearing is a spool of bandages wrapped around his torso and side. 

(Lol you're good babes dw)

It was only when Dane pointed to the poster on the wall did Kit start to feel self conscious about his room. It hadn't changed much since he was a kid, but that was because he didn't buy himself anything in order to redecorate. Either way, he didn't have many things. They were a low, working class family that spent their days slaving to the farm and the lands in order to get by, unnecessary purchases would only put the farm at risk, and Kit didn't want to be the reason that it went down hill. So, it had stayed the same since he was a kid. Same bed spread, same worn chest of drawers. He blushed wildly and instead turned to the drawers to find Dane a shirt.

"A- A cowboy or one of the films?" He asked, trying to joke and distract from the redness and the heat in his cheeks, "Um, I've seen a few films, I guess- in town. They- they don't play them often but- yeah. And real ones? No- God no. Not round 'ere."

Not out here when there was little crime. Everyone was set in their ways and everyone knew their place in Kit's little town. The farm was out of the way, too, and so there weren't any travellers on the roads that would need to drop by. No cowboys. No one of the sort unless they were intending to visit the farm. And no one did that. People stayed away from them. It was why they went to the next town over to sell their wares because it was bigger and no one knew of the family history revolving around Kit's family.

He rummaged through his draws until he found a simple white shirt that he hadn't worn in a while and turned back to Dane, holding it out for the man to take. It was too small for him, well, most of his clothes were on the smaller side, now, but he couldn't get more. He was sure that it would fit Dane with no issues.

Dane smiles at the sudden bashfulness. Is Kit actually embarrassed of his room? It's… well, cute ain't the right word but it's certainly along those lines. Judging from how the very corners of the posters are frayed, they must be old, but well kept. The room is nice and clean. A clear upgrade from other rooms he's found himself in throughout the past. The things are well taken care of, which is nice. Dane can appreciate a man who values his things. From the way Dane's fingers dig protectively into the fabric of his bag, he also cares for his few possessions. His mother's obituary picture, his pistol, his scarlet bandana, the rusted ring he was gifted by a girl who allowed him shelter for a night years and years ago. 

"Yeah, one of 'em cowboys." Dane nods and lays back against the bed. The mattress is nothing fancy, but a good mix between firm and soft. "The films aren't too accurate, y'know." He closes his eyes as a small smile tugs at his face. "Never been a fan of them. I've always preferred the books. They always tell me more about the characters than them movies." He can see their struggle so much clearer in the novels. He can watch their thought process shift an' change an' adjust until they're twine the man they were in the first chapter. Dane wonders with half a mind if he'll ever reach his big, dynamic change and move for the better. Part of him fears he's already passed his window. The other part hopes that he'll reach it soon. He opens one of his eyes, peering up at the angel.

Then there's a shirt offered to him, and Dane sits up to take it. His stitches pull as he brings the shirt over his head. Though it clearly hasn't been worn by Kit in a long while, it still kinda smells like him, and that is enough to bring a small blush to his face. Something deep within him suggests to show Kit his pistol, to show that he's one of them cowboys and gunslingers he puts up on his wall. But the actual smart part of him instantly halts that train. He's not here to cause a ruckus.

The young farmer rubbed at the back of his neck as he scanned the posters that he had had up since he was a child. The way they stood with their pistols aimed, bandana's over their mouth and cowboy hats over their eyes to protect their identity. He had always wondered what it might have been like if he had been a cowboy. What adventures he might have been able to go on, what travels? There was a whole wide world out there that he would never get to see because the borders of his own ended at the next town over and he never went further than that. The fences of the market were where his world ended. For all he knew, there was nothing but sand after that. Nothing else. Hell, maybe even the cities didn't exist. Maybe his siblings had been sent off to somewhere crazy and were lying to him. it was a ridiculous train of thought, but when he never ventured further than that of his little farm, it wasn't all crazy.

He turned to Dane again and watched as he put his shirt on. It looked good on him. Fit him better than it ever fitted Kit. Maybe that was because the other, although taller, was slimmer. When was the last time he had eaten a proper, big meal? He hadn't been able to handle much of breakfast, so he assumed it must have been a while. Kit couldn't help but feel a little upset on the other's behalf and it made him want Dane to stay even longer. So the other could have some good food and bulk up so wherever he went next he was more prepared for what he was going to face. Kit was already making plans to give Dane his other old shirts that he didn't wear anymore.

Sitting down next to Dane, Kit listened to what he had to say before he laid down himself, staring up at the ceiling with his hands on his chest, "I don' care if they ain't accurate," He replied with s sigh, "They get to 'ave adventures, and travel, and see the world, and get to 'ave fun and they get to fall in love and-" Kit stopped himself from rambling, going red in the face.

Dane studies the posters for a moment more, pointing to one tacked up beside the window. "I've met 'im before." He looked a hell of a lot older and not nearly as bold as the character he plays in the movies. "Doesn't talk much." Mostly because when Dane encountered the poor soul, he was almost caught in the middle of a shoot out. He spent the rest of the hour cowered behind saloon doors and praying for it all to be over soon. "A fine actor." Dane shrugs and falls back to be right beside Kit, their shoulders just barely brushing. Dane tries to remember how many celebrities he's met behind his dark hat and crimson scarf. There was that one silent film actress, a fine Southern Belle way out of her league in the West. She nearly had a heart attack when Dane pulled out his pistol. She gave him plenty of pearls without issue. Dane pawned them for gold in the next town over and gave half the money to a street rat with a sick mother.

"Fall in love, huh?" Dane turns his head so he's looking at the side of Kit's face, trying to fight off a little smile. "You a romantic, or somthin'?" His tone isn't patronizing, maybe something closer to a tad hopeful but well masked by conversational indifference. Dane doesn't even know if the angel is even attracted to men, let alone fine with it, and here Dane is, planning the future. "I've been doin' a little hoping myself, but it's hard to settle down when…" When yer constantly gettin' chased– "When yer always on the move. Maybe some day I'll settle down. Heard that the Pacific Northwest is nice, but they don't have cowboys." He laughs a little at that. "Heard it's just a buncha lumberjacks and people migrating over from east of the Mississippi." A shrug. "A couple'a fur trappers."

Kit listened as Dane spoke about the actor in the movie. He had really only seen the film a couple of times, but when he was younger he had been obsessed with it so much that his mother had brought him the poster to put on his wall and it hadn't moved since. He was sure that the wallpaper behind it was probably discoloured from how long it had been there for. Kit had no intention of moving it, even after Dane talked about the actor. The characters were lovable rouge cowboys that got the girl in the end. That part had always confused him a little. He knew he was supposed to want to settle down with a woman but couldn't wrap his head around it. The cowboy themselves on the other hand…

"Yeah, romantic… guess you could say that…" Kit blushed deeply. He was. He was a complete and utter romantic and all he wanted was someone to hold and care for and have the same in return. But he didn't. All he had was his parents, and his animals but it wasn't like he could have a romantic relationship with either of them. Definitely not. He turned onto his side so his face was brought closer to Dane's, green eyes wide and somehow twinkling even though the shadows of the room made them appear darker, "You don't really find people out here. And no one in town would ever want me, and the next town over is too far away and I don't go that often. Besides, I doubt there would be anyone-" He paused. He didn't know what his sexuality was, didn't know why he found men attractive and women a bit repulsive and why having a relationship with a girl seemed wrong. He didn't know the word for it, "I think I'ma be alone with just my animals forever." He chewed his lower lip.

Dane listens quietly to Kit's sad musing. His face is the color of tomatoes. His words are tinged with something. Loneliness probably. Dane's felt it enough in his own life. Maybe that's what this is supposed to be. Two lonely souls reminiscing about an undeniably out of reach future. Kit shifts next to him, Dane quickly doing the same. Like this, their noses are just a few inches apart. If Dane really wanted to, he could just lean forward and–but that's far too wistful thinking for this early in the morning. God–Dane has just met this guy, well, this angel really… but, Dane would be lying if he said he didn't feel something for the angel laying across from him.

"I'm sure that won't be the case, angel," Dane says, practically a whisper in the quiet room. "I'm sure there'll be plenty'a girls linin' up to meetcha." He pauses. "Or… y'know, fellas too." He studies Kit's jawline, lips, nose–just for a moment before looking back up to Kit's pretty green eyes. "Whatever ya' like." Because Dane knows certainly what he likes. Don't get him wrong–Dane loves women but just… not enough to wed them. They've been kind to him, many of them offering him a place to rest his head before darting out early in the morning. "Y'know, I've always imagined myself findin' a nice fella somewhere. Retire up north. Have a little cabin of some sort with a dog. I've always wanted one of em boxers. Or a hound. Do you got any dogs here?"

The more Dane speaks of it, the more his mind begins to draw the story. Big, northern pine trees decorating the mountain around their little cabin. A winding road with an old car leading to the closest town at the bottom of their fine mountain. A dog barking and playfully nipping at their ankles. Hell, Dane wouldn't even be opposed to a child… but he knows that it couldn't be his. Not unless some miss would mind carrying Dane's kid for nine months and then have nothin' to do with 'em afterwards. Well… to get to that beautiful, unrealistic future, Dane must first outrun the law. For good.

"It's not a girl I wan'…" Kit's words were soft and far too quiet, but in the silence of the room and how close he was to Dane, he was more than sure that the other man heard him. If Dane hadn't confessed his wish and thoughts for finding a man to settle down with, he probably never would have admitted it to himself out loud. For years he had been confused about what he liked in a person, and he found himself odd for not liking women and girls like the other people his age. They were all off finding ladies to settle down with and start families with but Kit? The minute one of them looked his way he was looking in the other direction and towards the men in the town. He hated that he was different, in so many ways, but he couldn't help it.

His heart yearned for big strong arms around him. Someone to keep him safe. He had never been with a man. He had had one girlfriend when he was a teenager but that lasted a total of seven days before he had broken it off. It didn't help that she only really dated him out of pity, considering his last name and the connections he had with his family. Kit hadn't been with anyone since. Inexperienced was one word for him. But he wanted someone. He wanted to feel lived. His mother was wonderful but she was family. She wasn't a partner. And that was what he wanted. But at this point, he had given up hope of finding it.

Green eyes studied Dane, how close they were. How he could see the soft lines on his face, the curve of his nose, those brilliant blue eyes he only imagined looked like the ocean. Yeah, he was attractive, he knew that much, "We used to have a dog but she passed a few years back. I wan' another but, you know…" Spare money went to medication for his father and keeping them alive.

"I understand," Dane says gently at Kit's confession. "It's a whole lotta pressure from e'erybody to settle down with a girl. Start a family and have those kids start families and hopefully live long enough to meet them grandkids." Dane laughs softly, a sound without much humor. Slowly, slow enough to allow Kit to pull away if Dane somehow read this situation wrong, Dane reaches for Kit's hand, carefully twining his fingers through Kit's rough ones. He offers a small smile. "I think you just gotta find someone who don't mind. Don't mind all the pressure and nerves 'n' stuff." Dane doesn't want to sit up, doesn't want to move. He would be entirely fine with laying in Kit's big bed for hours. Hell, would it be big enough to hold both of them? Maybe Dane would have to be half-on Kit–it would probably be close… Dane bites the inside of his cheek to shoo away the growing thoughts. He just met the man. Yesterday. Yesterday when Kit saved Dane's life instead of doing the whole world a favor.

"A dog would be nice," Dane switches the subjects, squeezing Kit's hand as he does so. "I love em… Funny critters. I used to have a dog too. Her name was Ellie and she was a shepherd dog. Didn't have any sheep to herd but she sure as hell enjoyed chasin' me around the house. I dunno whatever happened to her. My dad would never tell me." The fond memories are tinged with a sour, somber note. He has a feeling Ellie got sick too. Dane doesn't want to think about it. "What type of dog did you have?" He pauses. "If ya' had the money, would you ever get another dog?" And he just knows Kit will say something selfless, somethin' about the money having to go to a better cause. Well, Dane's always been a particularly selfish person. He could always teach others how to think of themselves first, and everyone else be damned.

Maybe Dane will do some searching himself, try to find some abandoned mutt in a ditch or something. It would probably be a sickly little thing, but they could always nurse it back to health. Dane's vague outline of a future takes a little more shape. A shape that has a tall, broad farmboy and a skittish little mutt.

Kit couldn't help the way his cheeks seemed to constantly be on fire around Dane. Every little thing the man did had him burning up. Each touch, those stupid smiles, the way he spoke about his life like he had lived a million of them and had so many stories to tell. It was enchanting, to say the least. He was more than aware that he shouldn't be feeling this way. That they had just met. But he was a sucker for romance and his parents had more or less become a couple soon after meeting. He wondered if they had felt the same. Jittery and nervous and red all over like they wanted to impress the other and make them think they were worthy of attention and time. Kit couldn't help but think about Dane. The mysterious man that had shown up half bleeding, far too skinny and called him angel as if he were something special and no more than a farm boy.

That hand in his felt too good. Warm and comfortable and now that he had Dane holding his own he didn't want the other to let go. Instead, Kit only welcomed the touch, squeezing back and maybe inching just a tad bit closer so their noses bumped together. He could see each freckle on Dane's cheeks like this, and his eyes flicked from those constellations to his lips, to his eyes and back again, all while ignoring how red his own cheeks were. This was nice. A bubble away from the rest of the world where it could just be the two of them and not have to worry about anything else. No expectations. Nothing but them on his bed and feeding off each other's warmth as if they were meant to be like this.

"Ellie is a nice name for a dog," He replied, "Ours was called Darla, a collie," Kit always thought it was a bit of a dumb name for a dog but he hadn't been the one to pick it, "If I had the money I would get another. Maybe another collie, or a shepherd. I love 'em all."

Dane can't help the little laugh that bubbles up as Kit leans forward to bump their noses together. His eyes go a little crossed as he tries to still keep contact with the angel's. They're so green, so pretty and Dane would hate to think of what would happen to him if he's ever forced to look away. Damn, if his father ever saw how sappy he became. Well, it'sa damn good thing Dane left his father on the opposite side of the territory with a cane and nobody to boss around. Dane's a free agent now. The only ones that want him are the law and–Dane hopes to God–this farmboy not even an inch from his face. He speaks of dogs of all things. Somethin' entirely completely mundane and Dane's giggling like a damn schoolgirl over it. Hell… when was the last time he felt like this. Anything like this really. And to think… he met the angel yesterday, delirious and barely conscious because of a damn bullet in his side.

"You're so pretty, angel," Dane whispers, absolutely unashamed of the rawness that seeps into his tone. His free hand goes up to run his fingers through Kit's fluffy brown hair. His pale skin stands out against the reddened blush of Kit's face. Dane laughs again, an airy, almost giggly sort of sound. "And mighty bashful too. Anyone ever told ya you go bright red when yer complimented?" Dane wonders if Kit ever hears any sort of praise outside of his Mama. If not, Dane wouldn't mind bein' the soldier tasked with changing that. He'll tell Kit a thousand compliments every night if it means to see him all pretty and shy like this. 

Maybe one day Dane might actually tell Kit who he really is. The name behind his own: Tiger Snipe. It's a… silly name. One that Dane hadn't even picked out for himself, but the reporters latched onto it and soon enough it was printed in every paper and stapled to every saloon door. "Whatdya say we go out to town tomorrow?" Together. Do something fun outside of the farm. Plus, Dane needs to know how long he'll be able to stay. The second he finds out word of Tiger Snipe has reached this pleasant little town, Dane will leave. It'll break his damn bleeding heart to leave the angel, but he'd rather the angel live to breathe another pretty day than be responsible for his grave.

(i am shaking them like a dog shakes a squeaky toy,,, would you be opposed to a shared custody pinterest board of our gay cowboys)

(no pls i love pinterest board and i love our boys i want also planning on starting a playlist for them ngl)

Every compliment that he receives from Dane jut goes straight to his cheeks. He can't help it. No one had ever complimented him so much before. Well, apart from his mama, but other than that… there had been a girl in his class one time that had taken a liking to him. They had almost become a thing if it hadn't been for the fact that Kit had had a massive crush on one of the boys in their class and he had been doing his best to surpress it for the longest time. She had been his first kiss. Out the back of the school. But nothing had ever come of it, not when Kit had found the experience awkward and strange, to say the least. Thank God he never went with her, though, she already had three kids with her husband and Kit didn't think he would have ever been able to handle that if it had been him in that situation.

Needless to say, he wasn't used to it, but he couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault no one had ever been so open about their likings to him in such a long time. It also didn't help that he was beginning to form a crush on the man that was so close to his face. Dane was handsome, if skinny, and sweet and they seemed to share at least some similar ideals and he couldn't help but wonder what a life with him might have looked like. Fuck, he was screwed if he was thinking like this so early on into meeting him. Kit didn't even know anything about his past, where he came from. If he had a family out there, or a damned wife and kids far away that he needed to get back to. Forming attachments with those that travelled for a living was dangerous and he didn't want to get his hopes up. But being so close to him like this… Kit was almost tempted to close the gap between them, just to see what it might have been like. They already had their hands intertwined, after all.

Kit couldn't help but lean into the touches like the dogs he spoke about, and those green eyes fluttered shut as he enjoyed the touch far too much, a content hum leaving his lips not a moment later, "Mama says I look like a tomato…" He mumbled, peaking an eye open for a moment before he shut it again to avoid seeing what Dane thought of his red face, "Goin' ta town sounds nice." At least he would be with Dane and not alone if anything went wrong.