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Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Here
Word Count: 1,747
Pairing: Chris/ Steve
Summary: A few days before Christmas, and one last track to ride.
Notes: Cowboy!AU for Silme, who wanted boys on horses, wide spaces and cowboy hats. I added the weather. Comments are ♥
He looked out of the window at the sky with a frown and turned to Steve, who sat huddled in the corner next to their stove.
“Gotta need you outside today,” Chris said.
“What?”
“Snow's coming in, need to move the horses.”
Steve looked at him and pulled a face. Chris knew he was about to argue against it, and normally he would let Steve get away with it, but he couldn't move the horses on time by himself.
“Just to the barn,” he said before Steve could get a word in. “Nothing big. Just from the corral to the barn to keep them out of the weather.”
Steve nodded at that.
“You want to leave now,” he asked.
Chris made a sound and then nodded, already making a list of what they would need and how long it would take them to get the animals.
“We'll be home early enough for you to cook us dinner,” Chris said and grinned when Steve huffed.
“Like I will cook for you after you dragged me through the snow and the river and all that on horseback.”
“That's what you're here for,” Chris said, “The cooking.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Chris grinned because it was true; Steve was never hired as a ranch hand, just for cooking and maintenance, but the horses liked him, and it turned out he wasn't half bad at riding either. So at times like these, when his ranch hand had already left the ranch for the winter and the upcoming holidays, Chris liked to ask Steve. He was easy company after all. Chris pulled a sweater over his shirt and tied his hair into a pony tail. He wrapped his scarf tightly, and slipped into his coat. He was about to grab his hat, when he saw Steve still next to the stove.
“What are you waiting for?”
Chris threw a sweater over to Steve, one of his own woolen ones, worn but warm, and Steve made a surprised sound.
“Layer up, we will go through the river.”
He waited until Steve was snug in his coat before getting his hat.
“How come you haven't left for the holidays anyway,” Chris asked while walking next to Steve towards the stables.
“What, and leave you alone? No way, man.”
Chris tipped Steve's hat a little more to the front. For someone not born around here, he didn't look half bad in a hat.
They saddled their horses and Chris caught himself watching Steve and his sure moves. It hadn't been that way when he first came to the ranch, and Chris was the first to admit that Steve had come a long way since then, even though it just had been under a year and he still wasn't keen on riding, something that Chris would never understand. But then again, he was born around here, so it had felt like coming home when he had bought the ranch and rebuilt the house, fitting it with a proper porch and adding two rooms. His plans had changed since then, but he had never regretted building the rooms and used them for the help he hired during the busier months. Right now, he only had a girl coming up to care for the horses in the stable, but she lived in the next city and owned a nicer truck then the one he got, so she drove off after each shift and would sometimes bring him supplies from the city.
He looked at Steve again, the blonde hair peeking out under the hat, the collar up, but no scarf, and Chris frowned at that. He wasn't to play mother hen on Steve though, so he simply mounted his horse, and led her out of the stable, sure that Steve would follow.
The morning was bright and crisp. What few snow fell last night still covered the ground, but it was less than an inch. The land was painted white with frost and Chris breathed in deeply and thought that this was why he came here. The wide of the land, the soft slope of it, the hills in the distance. There still was air that you could breathe, and the red of the dirt road was toned down to a soft dull orange by winter. He heard Steve bring his horse up next to him, and only turned then.
“It's just three horses,” he said, squinting against the sun.
“Shouldn't be that hard then,” Steve replied. He didn't sound too sure.
“You're doing this for me, aren't you,” Chris said on a whim.
He didn't wait for Steve to answer, riding off. It wasn't meant as a question anyway.
They fell into an easy pace. Steve didn't say a word about what Chris had said; something for which Chris felt grateful.
They didn't need to ride far, so Chris allowed for a slower pace, something Steve would feel comfortable with. They followed the road until they turned left and rode over one of the fields Chris owned. The hills that rose to their right looked as if dusted with powdered sugar and the scattered bushes were coated with thin ice, but there was one patch of grass that had maintained it sandy yellow and Chris pointed it out to Steve. Steve touched him then, fleetingly, loosing his tight grip on the reigns to gently touch Chris' shoulder and then quickly reclaiming the leather. Steve on a horse was far from being a painful sight, but the boy tensed up in a way that made Chris want to rub his shoulders. He'd be cooking tonight, Chris decided, and Steve would take a hot bath to unknot his muscles.
They passed a few trees and this time Steve pointed. Chris didn't know what to look for at first, until he saw the red spot in one tree, high up, but not hidden between the bare branches. It was a cardinal, bright and still, looking at them trot by, and Chris smiled.
“It's good luck,” he said, trying to remember whether it was indeed or just his momma liking the damn bird so much, but with Steve's expression, he didn't care. He wanted to say something else, but couldn't think of the right words to explain why he felt at home right now, right here in the middle of nowhere with frozen fields all around them.
When they reached the river, Steve frowned and Chris knew he didn't like going through it, not even now when the river carried much less water then in summer. Chris liked riding through it in summer, the cool water high enough to seep through his jeans, but in winter the water was low enough to neither worry for himself or the horse, as it didn't even reach the soles of his boots. Steve hesitated so Chris went in first, his horse tensing at the added cold and stalling. He cooed to her and heard Steve laughing softly from his spot on the river bank.
“What,” Chris shouted back, twisting in his saddle so he could see Steve, “Not used to me mumbling sweet nothings?”
Before Steve could answer, Chris slipped, sliding sideways but grabbing the horn and pushing himself up on the stirrup. He could feel a hand on his back and suddenly Steve was there, keeping him steady, helping him up again. Chris felt the heat rise in his cheeks, and he mumbled a thank you, not wanting to look at Steve. He told himself it was mere embarrassment, and not in the least gratitude, because he shouldn't have slipped in the first place like it was his first damn day in the saddle.
They rode to the corral in silence, putting the halter and reigns on the animals and leading them back. This time, Chris hurried more, going at a faster pace, until Steve fell back. He stopped and waited for him, breathing the cold air and looking into the distance.
“Are you all right,” Steve asked when he brought up his horse next to Chris'.
Of course he asked, had to, and the blush came back, so Chris shook his head.
“No need to ask, am fine.”
He was brushing Steve off, he knew he was, but he couldn't help his hurt pride, and despite their talks, Steve was working for him. Chris looked at Steve then, hoping that the redness of his face could be chalked up to the cold. Steve smiled, still managing to look worried. He reached over and Chris flinched. Steve was a stubborn bastard, so he touched Chris' shoulder again, and somehow that was all right.
“Let's go home,” Chris said, steady again, and led on.
They were on the dirt road and could already see the stables when the first snow flakes fell, swooping down slowly and evenly. They went into the stables and settled all their horses, rubbing them dry and caring for them before walking back to the main house. The snow fell harder by now, a greyish curtain of ice crystals, sticking to their coats and hats. Chris opened the door for them, shooing Steve in. He glanced at Steve, snow flakes stuck to his lashes, pulling the door shut to lock the weather out and shaking the snow off his clothes.
He took the hat from Steve, hung both their coats, and then leaned over to touch Steve's neck. He pulled back, surprised at himself, and smiled a little.
“Go take a bath and warm up, I'll make dinner,” Chris said.
Steve looked at him, cocking his head and looking Chris up and down. He smiled, nodding, and then leaned in and kissed Chris.
“Please tell me I didn't read you wrong,” he whispered against Chris' lips and Chris shook his head, because no, not wrong, just better than he thought Steve could read him under all this attitude.
Steve let him go and walked into the bathroom, and Chris went into the kitchen. Listening to the water running, he took out a pot and a pan and set them on the stove. He looked out of the window into the steady white curtain of snow, watching the flakes tumble down, the knowledge of Steve being still there and most possibly staying a warm weight in his stomach.
Home, he thought and started to prepare dinner, home.
Next: A Soft Place to Fall
Word Count: 1,747
Pairing: Chris/ Steve
Summary: A few days before Christmas, and one last track to ride.
Notes: Cowboy!AU for Silme, who wanted boys on horses, wide spaces and cowboy hats. I added the weather. Comments are ♥
He looked out of the window at the sky with a frown and turned to Steve, who sat huddled in the corner next to their stove.
“Gotta need you outside today,” Chris said.
“What?”
“Snow's coming in, need to move the horses.”
Steve looked at him and pulled a face. Chris knew he was about to argue against it, and normally he would let Steve get away with it, but he couldn't move the horses on time by himself.
“Just to the barn,” he said before Steve could get a word in. “Nothing big. Just from the corral to the barn to keep them out of the weather.”
Steve nodded at that.
“You want to leave now,” he asked.
Chris made a sound and then nodded, already making a list of what they would need and how long it would take them to get the animals.
“We'll be home early enough for you to cook us dinner,” Chris said and grinned when Steve huffed.
“Like I will cook for you after you dragged me through the snow and the river and all that on horseback.”
“That's what you're here for,” Chris said, “The cooking.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Chris grinned because it was true; Steve was never hired as a ranch hand, just for cooking and maintenance, but the horses liked him, and it turned out he wasn't half bad at riding either. So at times like these, when his ranch hand had already left the ranch for the winter and the upcoming holidays, Chris liked to ask Steve. He was easy company after all. Chris pulled a sweater over his shirt and tied his hair into a pony tail. He wrapped his scarf tightly, and slipped into his coat. He was about to grab his hat, when he saw Steve still next to the stove.
“What are you waiting for?”
Chris threw a sweater over to Steve, one of his own woolen ones, worn but warm, and Steve made a surprised sound.
“Layer up, we will go through the river.”
He waited until Steve was snug in his coat before getting his hat.
“How come you haven't left for the holidays anyway,” Chris asked while walking next to Steve towards the stables.
“What, and leave you alone? No way, man.”
Chris tipped Steve's hat a little more to the front. For someone not born around here, he didn't look half bad in a hat.
They saddled their horses and Chris caught himself watching Steve and his sure moves. It hadn't been that way when he first came to the ranch, and Chris was the first to admit that Steve had come a long way since then, even though it just had been under a year and he still wasn't keen on riding, something that Chris would never understand. But then again, he was born around here, so it had felt like coming home when he had bought the ranch and rebuilt the house, fitting it with a proper porch and adding two rooms. His plans had changed since then, but he had never regretted building the rooms and used them for the help he hired during the busier months. Right now, he only had a girl coming up to care for the horses in the stable, but she lived in the next city and owned a nicer truck then the one he got, so she drove off after each shift and would sometimes bring him supplies from the city.
He looked at Steve again, the blonde hair peeking out under the hat, the collar up, but no scarf, and Chris frowned at that. He wasn't to play mother hen on Steve though, so he simply mounted his horse, and led her out of the stable, sure that Steve would follow.
The morning was bright and crisp. What few snow fell last night still covered the ground, but it was less than an inch. The land was painted white with frost and Chris breathed in deeply and thought that this was why he came here. The wide of the land, the soft slope of it, the hills in the distance. There still was air that you could breathe, and the red of the dirt road was toned down to a soft dull orange by winter. He heard Steve bring his horse up next to him, and only turned then.
“It's just three horses,” he said, squinting against the sun.
“Shouldn't be that hard then,” Steve replied. He didn't sound too sure.
“You're doing this for me, aren't you,” Chris said on a whim.
He didn't wait for Steve to answer, riding off. It wasn't meant as a question anyway.
They fell into an easy pace. Steve didn't say a word about what Chris had said; something for which Chris felt grateful.
They didn't need to ride far, so Chris allowed for a slower pace, something Steve would feel comfortable with. They followed the road until they turned left and rode over one of the fields Chris owned. The hills that rose to their right looked as if dusted with powdered sugar and the scattered bushes were coated with thin ice, but there was one patch of grass that had maintained it sandy yellow and Chris pointed it out to Steve. Steve touched him then, fleetingly, loosing his tight grip on the reigns to gently touch Chris' shoulder and then quickly reclaiming the leather. Steve on a horse was far from being a painful sight, but the boy tensed up in a way that made Chris want to rub his shoulders. He'd be cooking tonight, Chris decided, and Steve would take a hot bath to unknot his muscles.
They passed a few trees and this time Steve pointed. Chris didn't know what to look for at first, until he saw the red spot in one tree, high up, but not hidden between the bare branches. It was a cardinal, bright and still, looking at them trot by, and Chris smiled.
“It's good luck,” he said, trying to remember whether it was indeed or just his momma liking the damn bird so much, but with Steve's expression, he didn't care. He wanted to say something else, but couldn't think of the right words to explain why he felt at home right now, right here in the middle of nowhere with frozen fields all around them.
When they reached the river, Steve frowned and Chris knew he didn't like going through it, not even now when the river carried much less water then in summer. Chris liked riding through it in summer, the cool water high enough to seep through his jeans, but in winter the water was low enough to neither worry for himself or the horse, as it didn't even reach the soles of his boots. Steve hesitated so Chris went in first, his horse tensing at the added cold and stalling. He cooed to her and heard Steve laughing softly from his spot on the river bank.
“What,” Chris shouted back, twisting in his saddle so he could see Steve, “Not used to me mumbling sweet nothings?”
Before Steve could answer, Chris slipped, sliding sideways but grabbing the horn and pushing himself up on the stirrup. He could feel a hand on his back and suddenly Steve was there, keeping him steady, helping him up again. Chris felt the heat rise in his cheeks, and he mumbled a thank you, not wanting to look at Steve. He told himself it was mere embarrassment, and not in the least gratitude, because he shouldn't have slipped in the first place like it was his first damn day in the saddle.
They rode to the corral in silence, putting the halter and reigns on the animals and leading them back. This time, Chris hurried more, going at a faster pace, until Steve fell back. He stopped and waited for him, breathing the cold air and looking into the distance.
“Are you all right,” Steve asked when he brought up his horse next to Chris'.
Of course he asked, had to, and the blush came back, so Chris shook his head.
“No need to ask, am fine.”
He was brushing Steve off, he knew he was, but he couldn't help his hurt pride, and despite their talks, Steve was working for him. Chris looked at Steve then, hoping that the redness of his face could be chalked up to the cold. Steve smiled, still managing to look worried. He reached over and Chris flinched. Steve was a stubborn bastard, so he touched Chris' shoulder again, and somehow that was all right.
“Let's go home,” Chris said, steady again, and led on.
They were on the dirt road and could already see the stables when the first snow flakes fell, swooping down slowly and evenly. They went into the stables and settled all their horses, rubbing them dry and caring for them before walking back to the main house. The snow fell harder by now, a greyish curtain of ice crystals, sticking to their coats and hats. Chris opened the door for them, shooing Steve in. He glanced at Steve, snow flakes stuck to his lashes, pulling the door shut to lock the weather out and shaking the snow off his clothes.
He took the hat from Steve, hung both their coats, and then leaned over to touch Steve's neck. He pulled back, surprised at himself, and smiled a little.
“Go take a bath and warm up, I'll make dinner,” Chris said.
Steve looked at him, cocking his head and looking Chris up and down. He smiled, nodding, and then leaned in and kissed Chris.
“Please tell me I didn't read you wrong,” he whispered against Chris' lips and Chris shook his head, because no, not wrong, just better than he thought Steve could read him under all this attitude.
Steve let him go and walked into the bathroom, and Chris went into the kitchen. Listening to the water running, he took out a pot and a pan and set them on the stove. He looked out of the window into the steady white curtain of snow, watching the flakes tumble down, the knowledge of Steve being still there and most possibly staying a warm weight in his stomach.
Home, he thought and started to prepare dinner, home.
Next: A Soft Place to Fall
no subject
It's sweet and slow and just ... if I hadn't been in christmas mood before christmas, this would've gotten me into it!
Since I read it only today (I know, shame on me!) I can say that I just love the whole setting and I really hope, [Bad username or site: silme711 / @ livejournal.com] will make you write more of it!
no subject
I'l put this AU on my mental to do list.