Prompt Response - for my awesome LadyGarnett!!!
ETA - cut tag! Sorry!
“He's – where?” Vin blinked, his broad face seeming to lengthen as he frowned, wrinkles at his eyes and mouth drawing it down. For an instant, Buck had the sense that he really was young, younger than he'd imagined.
But that might have more to do with his enthusiasm for the sex they'd been having. And for his stamina. He was like a boy, or at least like the boy Buck had been, the one who was ready at the drop of a hat, or the smile of a woman. Or girl. Or boy.
“Wickestown,” Buck said more slowly, drawing out the word. He knew Vin had to know what it was, where it was. It wasn't that far away, and with as much as Vin liked to ride out of town, there was no way he had missed the tent town about a mile away.
“Where the whores are,” Vin said, his voice flat.
Buck drew a deep breath, trying to control his anger, but it wasn't easy. He hated that word, hated the way people said it when they didn't know what the hell they were talking about.
Before he could say anything though, Vin held up a hand and said more slowly, “Ain't challenging them or their right to make a living,” he said more softly. “Just – ain't Chris got enough to keep him occupied?”
Buck stared for a moment until he understood. Chris had recently found himself attracted to Vin. Which had been an addition to his attraction to Buck. Having lost his wife and son, Chris didn't want to lose anything now, so he worked to keep both of them on his dance card.
And they, in turn, danced together as well, a nice little triangle that traded back on itself.
Often. It was a thought that made Buck smile. There wasn't much finer than being the company of both Chris and Vin at the same time, in the same bed.
But . . . . but. And here was the 'but'.
Buck picked up his glass and found it empty. The saloon was not all that busy this time of the day – late afternoon, getting on to evening. 'The dinner hour', if one was inclined toward ritual. The time when men sat down to dinner with their families, if they had them. The time when single men made off from working the day away to find food, or more likely, drinking and company. Feminine company.
Something about food always drew men back to women. He couldn't remember many nights that he actually had dinner with his ma – not an 'early dinner' as she called it. Late dinners, after 11, were more common, especially as he got older and was still away. But 'early dinners' – dinners served with the setting sun – were rare. That was the time single men, lonely men, came calling.
He got up, holding out a hand to Vin for patience, and made his way across to the bar. It didn't take him long to be served and he brought back a beer for Vin, too. Trying to explain this might be thirsty work.
As he settled back in his chair, he looked at Vin, studying him, then he said, “You ever cared for a woman – I mean, other than your ma or one related to you?”
Vin straightened, his blue eyes glittering in the evening sun beaming through the windows. “What the hell's that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Buck held up a hand as he said, “Nothing, Vin, it don't mean nothing. Not nothing bad. It don't make no nevermind. I just wanted a place to start.”
Vin stared for another few seconds, then he eased back against the chair, his shoulders dropping a little. “Ain't had much time for women. Can't make no promises and I ain't leaving one with a baby I ain't around to be a father to.”
The way he said it said a lot more than the words themselves. It was a feeling Buck understood. It was one he shared, though he reckoned that, unlike Vin, he'd had a lot more experience in how to prevent that particular problem.
He respected Vin's sentiments, though, and he nodded. “I appreciate that – reckon they do, too. It's a hard life for woman out here, 'specially one who finds herself with children she's got to care for.”
Vin stared at him, his eyes still cold but no longer carrying fire. “This ain't about women,” he said, pitching his voice low. “It's about Chris.”
Buck looked away, trying to remember when he had felt the same way. But he couldn't – he never had. The thing between him and Chris had started – well, it had started because there were no women around. Or, more to the point, no women for him. Chris was on the run from a woman and he'd had just about all he could stand from women. Ella Gaines had, as Chris had explained in the few times he was drunk enough to open up, taken Chris' heart and ripped it into pieces that she had then stabbed with a fork, salt and peppered, and basted with vinegar.
“What we got,” he said slowly, trying to figure out how to say it without hurting Vin, “is – well, it's special, Vin. And it's – well, it's dangerous. You know that – hell, we've already talked through a lot of it.”
Vin looked around quickly and Buck realized he was talking more for Vin than for the company they were in. He shook his head and leaned forward, putting his hands on the table but also putting them close enough that he could brush against Vin's fingers. “Chris was married – and he loved her more than life its ownself,” he said low and careful. “I love women, too, Vin – not that I want to settle down and get married anytime soon, but – hell, you know me, you've seen me.”
Vin shook his head, his hair dragging over his shoulders. “So what are you telling me? That what we got is some sort of – hell, some sort of distraction while the two of you ain't getting what you want elsewhere?” The bitterness in his voice was about enough to choke a mule, and it told Buck a lot of what he had already suspected.
It was both reassuring and terrifying.
“No, that ain't what I'm saying at all,” he said softly, stretching his hand the short distance to touch the skin of Vin's wrist. “You know, or should know by now, how important you are to us – how important we are to each other.”
Vin's face drew tighter, the lines at his eyes pinched. “The two of you seem to spend time at Wickestown,” he said. “'Cause you need even more?”
Buck swallowed, searching for the words to explain it. “Maybe we do,” he said after a time. “But it ain't – it ain't what you think,” he said, hoping he did, indeed, understand what Vin was thinkng. “I grew up surrounded by women – hell, I know women better than I know horses or men or pretty much anything. I was blessed that way, Vin. Women are my comfort. They're all that's good in the world, they're all that's soft and caring and – well, hell, they're home. They take care of me and I will do everything in my power to take care of them.”
He paused, looking back to meet Vin's gaze. “But I need Chris, and I need you, even more than that. What we have is – trust. I ain't never gonne give up the comfort of a woman. But there ain't no one woman. Not the way that there is just one Chris – and one Vin. And Chris? Well,” he smiled, thinking about the first time he'd laid eyes on Lydia, on the woman that Chris had been drawn out to Wickestown twice a week to see. “She's special. Not in the way you think, not in a way that's gonna take him away from us. But – well, she's a memory, she's a reminder of a time in his life when everything was perfect. She's a good woman and she gives him things he can't get from us.”
Vin sighed, looking away, and Buck understood something he hadn't before: Vin didn't understand women. Whatever had happened to him in the past, he hadn't found the same comforts there – or the same safety.
His safety was with them, and right now, he was feeling unsafe.
Buck took a sip of his beer then, after he swallowed, he said, “What he gives you – what he gives me, it ain't the same. We will always be there for him, and him for us. But sometimes, sometimes it's good to have the softness and the sweetness and the appreciation of someone who – well, who needs you, and who wants you in a different way. He ain't leaving us – hell, he ain't even replacing us. But for tonight, he needs something we can't give.”
Vin didn't say anything but he didn't move. Instead, he drank from his beer mug and stared past Buck into the darkening sky.
JD pushed through the doors and trotted over to the table, dropping into a chair next to Buck. “Did you hear?” he demanded, looking from Buck to Vin and back. “Wickestown!”
Buck grinned, not really able to stop himself. If there was anyone who needed Wickestown more than JD, he wasn't sure who it was. “You thinking on going out?” he asked, cataloging who he knew already and who he would trust with JD's virginity.
“Hell yes!” JD said. “Aren't we all?” He shook his head as of Buck was being stupid, but when Buck looked to Vin, he saw the sadness on his face.
Vin pushed back out of his chair and stood up. “Night,” he said, turning toward the door.
“You heading out to Wickestown?” JD asked, gripping the table so hard that Buck thought it might break.
“Heading to bed,” Vin said flatly. He was out the door before JD could say anything else.
JD stared after him and Buck shook his head.
“He all right?” JD asked, looking at Buck.
Buck smiled and slapped the younger man on the back. “So, for you first time, you need to - “
“It ain't my first time!” JD snapped, pushing Buck's hand off his shoulder. “Why would you think that?”
There were too many ways to answer that so Buck just shook his head and smiled. But his eyes strayed once more to the doors as they swung back and forth. It would have been so much easier if he'd believed his own lines of bullshit. But he didn't and he suspected Vin didn't either.
He and Chris had an understanding. They had a similar need. But it was going to be different with Vin, and more complicated.
And as he listened to JD babble about going to Wickestown, it occurred to him that of the three of them, maybe Vin was the simplest and perhaps the easiest. Because he needed only the two of them.
Nothing more and nothing less.
And watching Chris try to understand that was going to be an amusement.