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.
(akfhjdhdjdh please make a playlist. and here's the pinterest board!!!! agh they are so,,,, https://pin.it/5C6vlLu)
This is dangerous, his mind struggles. Dane tries to shut it down, but the poison thought still mills through his mind. Dane is dangerous, dangerous, dangerous– And Kit's just a farm boy. A beautiful, angel farm boy that is far too good for this cruel world. Dane's smile wavers just a little bit, but he determinately replaces it with a slightly brighter one. No need to make Kit nervous with Dane's own intrusive thoughts. "I'd love to go with ya' to town. Know any good saloons? I love potato wedges if that helps your decision at all."
Being so incredibly close, it would be so easy for Dane to just lean forward and connect their lips. But Dane is at least somewhat of a gentleman, and he knows when to take things slow. Dane doesn't know Kit's last name. Maybe it could be his–What is he thinking? This is hour eight of knowing Kit and he's already planning a whole damn future with a dog and a house and plenty of pine trees and no law to catch up to him. He doesn't want to dare start a potential, beautiful relationship with a massive lie separating them. Dane quietly makes a promise to himself. He'll have to tell Kit who he really is before he can kiss him. Maybe Kit will forgive him for the blood in his ledger. Maybe Kit will see that he did it to survive, not for a murderous urge.
Dane's been with a fair handful of men in his past. Most of them relationships were over in weeks, usually even less. They're quick and raging and desperate and Dane's gone before it could become too important. Sometimes the guys figure out who he is. Some think it's attractive, others find him repulsive, one even got his own gun and Dane ended that with a shot from his own pistol and tears in his eyes. That had been kill number fourteen out of the twenty-five in Dane's history. There's only ever been twenty-six shots ever fired from his gun. "Whadya say about lunch? My treat?" Just so Kit doesn't have to worry about spending money he doesn't have. Dane should have plenty in his bag, right in the pouch beside his gun.
(hello, friendly neighborhood stalker, I also love the gay little cowboys)
(https://open.spotify.com/playlist/27JJblkgy805h2eT9KlgxB?si=ireJvAtHSu6L5Z3TqH4mWA gay cowboys playlist!! still in the works lol i will be adding more to it)
“I don’t go into town much.” Kit admitted with a small shrug. Not when everyone knows him, his last name, and the man that raised him. Not when they all hate his family, even if Kit himself didn’t do anything to deserve their wrath. It was all aimed at his father. The bastard who had stolen and cheated one person too many in his life to make a name for himself as a dickhead and someone to steer clear of. The whole reason as to why Kit stayed away from town. But maybe with Dane people would leave him alone. Maybe he would be able to go into town, have a drink and something to eat with the handsome man beside him and not have to worry about being berated for who he was all the time.
He was more than aware that it was wishful thinking, really. Especially if he rocked up with a stranger, of all people, from out of town. As much as the towns folk were welcoming enough to strangers Kit didn’t know if his name would cause Dane any issues. He didn’t know. Didn’t know if he wanted to find out, really, but he wasn’t going to say no, even if it felt wrong, “You don’ gotta do that,” He said, trying to see if maybe Dane was just playing with him, “You shouldn’t gotta spend your money on me, I ain’t worth it, really.” Even if it would be nice to go out and leave the farm for a while.
Kit couldn’t remember the last time he had left the premises of his life and headed into town. The next town over, sure, but his own? He wouldn’t lie when he said he was a little nervous about it all. Anything involving the town had him scared. He didn’t want to bring attention to his family more so than he might already, and as such he stayed away. The farm was peaceful. Away from drama. That was the best part.
"Well, that's alright, angel," Dane reassures with a gentle smile. "I'm always in different towns. They're all really not so different when you've seen enough of 'em." There's a main saloon off the main street, maybe a few smaller ones hidden in the backroads depending on how big the town is. There's a small inn with only a handful of rooms with a standoffish teenager at the front desk with a handful of jumbled keys to pass out to paying patrons. People rock on chairs outside their homes. Kids chase tumbleweeds in the dusty streets. Sometimes a pair will square off in front of the town hall belltower ten paces apart. A crowd will gather and a shot later, the issue will be resolved and another occupant will be dragged to the town cemetery just down the way. If Dane's lucky, the town will have trees with good shade, but Dane's quickly discovering that the southwest doesn't host much promise for an orchard.
He could almost laugh at Kit's insistence. "Stop that, angel. You're plenty worth any money I got in my pocket." Hell, even worth more than the money he steals from time to time. All the banks he robs in broad daylight ain't worth nothin' compared to the lovely man laying just an inch from his face. "Darlin', I got plenty o' pocket change to get us something nice to eat. You save what money you have for a dog. We can name her Dally or somethin'. A mix between Ellie and Darla, right?" He smiles as the picturesque future in his mind adds a name tag to his dog. They'd call her inside from the porch with a bowl full of raw meat for her to gnaw on while they dine on their own dishes of potato wedges and… other food. "Do you like potato wedges? How bout baked potatoes? Chips?" Dane, well, certainly has a favorite food group. Who needs fruit when he has spuds?
(Dane is me honestly stan potatoes)
God this man. Kit had never met anyone like him before. The way he so effortlessly threw those names around, those names of affection, as if Kit meant something to him was unreal. How he was willing to spend money on him after only knowing him for less than twenty four hours. Quite frankly he couldn’t quite believe it. No one had ever called him those names apart from his Mama. No one had wanted to spend money on him the way Dane was saying he would, even if it was just a bowl of wedges. Maybe he could write it down to it being a repayment for Kit saving his life, but God did he hope that it wasn’t just that.
Helpless romantic. The two prefect words that described the farm boy. He was already hoping that it was something more than just Dane being nice. He was hoping he would stay for longer. The man had been insistent on leaving before. Kit had been happy just getting the man to stay for a day, and now he couldn’t help but hope for more. Hope for longer. Hope for, just maybe, a forever. Impossible, really. Kit was getting his hopes up and ready to be crushed by hoping for that. But he couldn’t help it, didn’t want to fight it, not when he found the man in front of him endearing and handsome as hell.
“Fine,” He relented, letting a smile settle over his features, “We can go for wedges. Since you’re so instant on ‘avin’ some ‘taters.” And then, in a move that was more than a little bold, even for Kit, he was rolling from where he was lying next to Dane to on top of him, in his lap and leaning over him with their faces only inches apart.
(he's so real for that,, truly channeling my Idahoan Swag when writing Dane ladkjf)
"I do love my potatoes. But lemme tell ya' this, angel, I do not like tomatoes or strawberries. They're too sweet. They have too much juice–" And then Kit rolls and Dane makes a funny little sound he can't even bring himself to be embarrassed of. If Dane thought their noses had been close before, he clearly hadn't anticipated this. Dane tries a shy smile, but it ends up blossoming into something much bigger as he marvels at the absurdity of their position. "Yer all warm, angel," Dane says, relishing in the comfortable weight of the other man on top of him. "You should be my blanket e'rey cold night we got out here in the desert."
Lazily, Dane loops his arms around Kit's neck, his fingers gently stroking the curls at his nape. His head lolls to the side, eyes still fixated right on the angel's pretty green ones. He breathes carefully. As much as he loves Kit's weight atop of him, it's not quite the best remedy for his stitching. Oh well, it's better than his skin bein' pulled, and Dane isn't about to complain with Kit in kissing distance. No. Stop– Dane has to cut his own thoughts off with a sharp sigh through his nose. Dane isn't about to break the promise he made to himself not even five minutes ago. He'll wait. He'll see if he's really the damn cowboy the angel wants to pursue. If so, Dane might as well confess his whole life story like the angel is a priest and Dane's about to get his sentence to hell.
There's also somethin' about Kit that has Dane suddenly breaking out religious metaphors. Odd, considering, well, he's never been a religious man. He only knows what his mother wanted him to know and they never went. She was always working Sunday shifts at the hospital and Dane's father is a demon in itself.
Instead of trying to psychoanalyze himself, Dane moves the subject yet again to something far less problematic. "What's yer favorite food? You like potatoes as much as me, or are ya' more of a bread n' rice type of fella?"
Kit couldn't help his soft chuckle, cheeks still burning as bright as those tomatoes and strawberries that Dane claims he hates, "Strawberries are a Godsend, I dunno what types you've been 'avin' but they're so damn good round 'ere." Especially his Mama's home-grown ones. Clara was a witch when it came to anything garden-related. Her vegetable garden was marvellous and filled with only the best foods in the whole damn county. An amazing cook and with fresh, homegrown produce, Kit could hardly complain about staying at home when the dishes he was served every night were delicious.
Something about this position felt right. With Kit holding a little of his weight off of the man below him to not press too harshly into the fresh stitches he had given Dane the other night. Hovering, just a little, but enough so that the other could feel most of his weight and his heat on top of him. He couldn't help but wish to be the man's blanket. A foolish, stupid thought but God was it a nice one. Thinking about them cuddling under the stars, out by a fire in the middle of nowhere but a fire and each other to keep warm. A dream that would never happen, it was impossible. Kit hadn't gone further than the next town over and was unlikely to survive a life out there in the open but being with Dane… maybe he could.
And with those arms around his neck… Kit felt as if he had died and gone to Heaven. Being held all soft and gentle, with Dane's fingers in the curls on his neck. If only they could stay like that forever, "'Taters are far better than rice," He replied eventually once he had gotten his thoughts in order, "Though, a good 'ol loaf of crunchy bread fresh outta the oven is hard to beat." And definitely better than any potato he might find.
Dane laughs softly. "Agree to disagree, angel. Somethin' about 'em are just too sweet for me. 'owever, it's kinda funny how much I like apples too. The granny smith ones." They're obviously more tart and sour than sweet, a good snack for Dane to go at if he gets the chances. Plus, they're far too easy to just pluck right off of trees if he's riding past. No farmer really notices a missing apple when there's hundreds of them in the trees.
"I gotta agree with you there, though," Dane scratches gently at Kit's hair. "Rice is alrigh' n' all, but it don't compare to a good baked potato. One with butter n' salt n' bacon n' sour cream–" Is his mouth really watering just thinking about potatoes of all things? Damn. How long has Dane been starvin' himself like this? The last time he had a proper meal was… far too long ago. He knows he won't be able to eat a lot. Never again will he be able to eat an entire lumberjack breakfast without feeling nauseous. Never again will he be able to eat some fancy feast for a wedding. The thought is frighteningly sad. Well, this is what he gets for taking food for granted. He thanked Clara for breakfast, right? Staring up at Kit, Dane can feel a tug at his stupid, bleeding heart. "I told yer mama thank you for breakfast, right?" he asks. "Don' want her to think I'm takin' any of this for granted."
Dane pulls gently at Kit's curls. For such a dusty, rugged environment, it's shockingly soft. He smiles, pushing any sort of remotely negative thoughts out of his mind. "I like bread too. What kind of monster don't like bread?" There could be some real good one in town. Town. Damn, could that even count as a date?
Kit knew that he should sit up, take more of his weight off of Dane so he wasn't squishing him under his weight and hurting his stitches. But it felt too good to be where they were, close together, sharing breath and soft gazes and Dane's hand tangled in his hair. Far too good. Especially when the other man began to play with his hair, the younger man had to bite his lip to prevent himself from groaning at how good it felt. A damned weakness if he ever knew one. A big one. And Dane's hand was right there and Kit was practically cat-like in the way he leaned into each touch with a soft hum as he listened to Dane speak of potatoes and apples.
Oh if only they could stay like that forever. The whole world seemed to disappear around them leaving the two cowboys basking in each other's touches like teenagers hiding away from their parents on a first date. Kit certainly felt as if he were a teenager with a crush again. With the way his heart seemed to flutter when Dane smiled at him or looked at him a certain way, how his hand had felt awfully right in his own, it was like a dream. A dream that couldn't, shouldn't happen, because he was more than aware that Kit wanted to leave at the earliest opportunity possible, yet for the time being, with Dane's arms around his neck, the young cowboy wished that it would be able to become a reality.
"Yes, you thanked her for the meal," Kit finally said, huffing a light laugh, "Multiple times." And even if he hadn't Clara wouldn't have minded all too much, he had been shot, after all. Kit was surprised that Dane had even remembered manners to begin with, but maybe that was because he was too wrapped up in worrying about whether he was going to pop another stitch or not to focus too deeply on formalities.
Dane laughs gently. "Good. Just hadta make sure I didn't forget. Would hate for her–for anyone to think I'm ungrateful." He pauses as he stares deep, deep into Kit's pretty, pretty green eyes. "I'm not ungrateful." Even though his own death would be a favor to the whole world, Dane can't help but be selfish and thankful that he hadn't died yesterday evening. Would be a borin' way to go out–bleeding out alone in a dusty desert without anyone around to save him or even watch. They wouldn't even get his time of death on his obituary right. They hadn't gotten his mother or baby sister's right. They were four minutes off on both of them. Dane's father had taken five minutes to even bother getting out of his damned rocking chair.
Sighing gently, Dane locks his arms around Kit's neck and rolls them over, now the taller yet smaller man on top of the handsome, burly mass that is the angel. Dane laughs in a way that can only be described as a giggle when their noses accidentally touch from the movement. This way, Dane can put all of his weight on Kit. The man should be more than strong enough to take it. "I wanted my turn to be the blanket, angel," Dane explains semi-sheepishly. "I hope ya' don't mind." Because Dane certainly doesn't mind this new position. Hell, both had been plenty favorable, this one just happens to be much kinder on his very fresh wounds.
Laying like this, they could spend the entire day just tangled up together and staring into each other's eyes. They could waste all the daylight the sun has to offer, but Kit has his responsibilities to tend to. Dane can't possibly hold him up from his farm. Dane sits up carefully, knees positioned on both sides of Kit's hips as he straddles him. "You got some work to do, angel. Would love to snuggle up with ya' all day, but I'm afraid I simply cannot keep you from yer honest ol' work." He cracks a smile, just to ensure Kit knows that Dane isn't angry, isn't irritated, isn't sad or any of the other negative feelin's.
Kit could already tell that Dane wasn't ungrateful. He didn't give off that aura. Considering he had thanked him before he passed out yesterday when Kit had first picked him up to tend to his wounds, and then repeatedly thanked him for all the help, the food, his mama. Yeah, Dane was far from ungrateful, and he could only smile at the man in response. Thank God he didn't die on him, otherwise they wouldn't have been like this now. He wouldn't even have gotten his name if he had bled out on the dusty country dirty, maybe wouldn't even have been identified at all considering he wasn't from around these parts. And he knew the townsfolk. Knew they wouldn't have given two shits about the dead man, especially since he would have ended up dead on Kit's property and they all were aware of how they felt about him and his family.
He let himself be rolled over, smile only widening at the bumping of noses and the giggle that came from the older man. A strange sound, but it fit well with Dane, for some reason. The farmboy wouldn't lie and say he wouldn't want to hear it again because he certainly would, he liked hearing the cowboy laugh, in any way, especially if it was because he had caused him to do so. It made Kit's heart flutter with just a little bit of pride that he had been able to draw such a sound from him. And it was wonderful having Dane on top of him. He liked this more than the other way around, for many reasons. Right now it was more the fact that he was no longer worrying about squishing his injuries and hurting him. Like this, he could stare up at Dane as if he was the angel, and wishing he was running his hands through those strawberry blonde locks of his that framed his face like a damned waterfall.
But then he was reminded of work and Kit groaned, rolling his eyes as his hands came to settle on Dane's thighs like they were meant to belong there, "Why you gotta remind me of that?" He teased, sighing and sticking his bottom lip out in a pout, "I don't wanna go ta work, I wanna stay 'ere." With him, where it was comfortable, where he didn't have responsibility, "You ain't gonna run off on me, are you? You're more than welcome to come with me… or hang out 'ere, if ya want. Ya don't gotta if you're tired, I get it."
(sorry if my responses feel so few and far!!! i have about a million things on my plate right now,,, alsdkjf)
"You got plenty'a work to do round here, sir," Dane says, a little (just a little) teasing at the end. "Someone's gotta tend to the fields and critters." He smiles, settling his weight back atop of Kit's thighs–massive ones, Dane feels to add. The detail is important. "And, darlin', I'd love to just follow you around the farm all day, but I'll be real honest with you right now when I say I doubt I'll be of much help. Even before I went an' got myself shot, I couldn't lift much." A little laugh at that. He's weak, especially for a man his height. Maybe if he spent more time gettin' meals like the ones Clara fascens for her family instead of runnin' all over the western frontier, Dane could be just as broad-shouldered and muscled as Kit. Oh well, now he can't even eat more than a few bites without feelin' sick to his stomach. Just another one of the many pains of being a rogue outlaw runnin' from every sheriff and officer in sight.
"If ya' don't mind my dead weight trailin' mindlessly behind ya', I wouldn't mind bein' out in the heat with ya." The heat's never bothered Dane, not when he's spent nearly every day for the past–god, how many years has it been–seven years in it. Nothing a wide-brimmed hat and a good handkerchief won't protect him from. Hell, Dane wouldn't even be surprised if he has that melanoma thing by now. His mother was always sunburned. His father never went outside long enough to get it.
Dane's hands find Kit's, placed firmly on his thighs. "I won't run out on ya' just yet, angel. I still gotta get better, don't I?" In the span of less than a day, Dane's already made far more promises than he's made in the past decade. He won't leave Kit just yet, he'll wait until their date in town to reveal his identity, he'll then maybe kiss Kit in some darkened bar if he's not too repulsed by the horrid, gruesome truth. Promises, promises, promises–and God, Dane prays he won't break them. "Yer mama's cookin' is also far too good to leave just after one meal." His nose scrunches as he leans back down to knock their noses together playfully.
(All good bestie! same here don't worry - also gotta love dane lowkey loving how big kit is alsnda)
Kit couldn't help but feel more than a little happy when Dane's hands settled upon his own. They almost felt soft, especially in comparison to his own. His were covered in scars and callouses, there was dirt under his nails already despite having washed before breakfast and only being outside for less than an hour this morning, and they were far from soft. But the way that the farm boy intertwined their hands together, even with the difference in the two of them, it was definitely something that seemed right. No matter how vastly different they seemed to be Kit couldn't shake the feeling as if something had drawn them together, whether it be that damned bullet or what, but it felt right.
"You're not a dead weight," Kit said with a soft chuckle, "You jus' 'aven' spen' enough time on a farm." Maybe he could be the one to change that for him. God, Kit's mind was going crazy with possibilities and all of them were definitely never going to happen. Kit could hope, fuck, he could pray that maybe Dane stuck around for longer than a few days, maybe he stayed around longer for after his wound was healed, maybe he could stay with him, on the farm, together, with Kit helping Dane build up that muscle, learn how to lift and talk to animals like he did. Maybe they could have a life together. The thought struck Kit like one of those trains in a movie. Fast and sudden that it nearly made him blush. A life together? They had just met? He was a dreamer if he ever knew one.
Kit's smile grew into a grin when Dane bumped their noses together again. In a swift move, he sat himself up, and Kit's hands moved from where they were laced with Dane's and on his thighs, round to the back of them to brace the man as he stood from the bed and took Dane with him, hoisting the man up till he was holding him in his arms, "I would love to have ya' follow me round the farm today. Better than bein' on me own all day and bored outta ma mind."
(aklsdjf Dane is like "i am looking respectfully at your massive thighs and honkers good sir")
Dane squeezes at Kit's hands, relishing in the difference between them. Dane's are bloodied and cleaned and bloodied and cleaned–all to the point where there's blood soaked into every crease of his skin, invisible to everyone except Dane. Kit's are gentle and rugged and made from days and days of tending to creatures, of caring for crops. Kit's hands were made rough and careful by his honest work, by the legacy of his father he had promised to uphold. Dane's hands are soft because he don't work hard, because he runs the second trouble seems to surface. His hands are soft because the only tool he could use is a pistol, only shot twenty-five times and resulted in twenty-four corpses.
"You'd be surprised at how much dead weight I can actually be." He says it with a smile, but his words are nothin' but truth. He drags others down and down until they can't help but be drowned or buried. He brings down the value of every small town he ventures through. He fills empty graves with people who don't deserve to be dead just yet. His dead weight results in other dead people. Yet somehow God thinks that he's still worth livin' and breathin'. There has to be some damn reason why he's still here, and God, he prays that it isn't to just cause the trials all worthy souls must go through.
But that is not what Dane wants to think about now, not when Kit's moving them and how he's being held in the air by strong arms. Dane laughs, his arms quickly going to loop around the angel's neck to steady himself. "Careful now, don't wanna drop me and redo all the damage you worked so hard to heal." He tightens his arms a little more, somehow bringing himself closer to Kit's pretty face. Is this why I'm here? Part of him, the hopeful, romantic, dreaming part of him wonders. Is he here for Kit? If he is…. Well, Dane's stomach sours at the possibilities. It means he could either be here to make both of 'em better, or he's here to bring those terrifying trials for Kit to go through. Maybe he should get outta here. Maybe he should leave the next morning or maybe the morning after that–After all, they still hafta go to town.
