"Vin? Is everything all right?" JD asked softly, easing the door of Vin's room open. He called again, a little louder, settling his hastily drawn gun a little more firmly into his grasp as he peered cautiously into the darkness. "Vin? You ok?"
"I'm fine, JD. Just drunk."
JD blinked as he recognized the tracker's voice coming from somewhere ahead of him in the room. The tracker's voice sounded funny. Was this a trap of some sort?
"What did you say?" JD finally responded when it became clear that Vin wasn't going to continue.
"I said I'm fine. Just drunk is all." A match flared briefly in the darkness and then the dim light from the oil lamp by the bed allowed JD to see the truth of his friend's words. What truth there was to be found, anyway. Vin didn't look fine to JD's eyes. He did look drunk, though.
"You've been drinking?" JD asked, still unconsciously pointing his gun in Vin's direction as he tried to puzzle out the tracker's odd behavior. Vin drank, sure. But Vin never got drunk. Not in all the time JD had known him.
"Is that a shooting offense?" Vin raised his eyebrows as he leaned forward a bit unsteadily and began pulling off his boots.
"What? Oh. No." JD lowered his gun, feeling a bit foolish.
"Glad to hear it." Vin had succeeded in getting one boot off, but the second one was giving him a pretty good fight.
"I was sleeping. And I heard noises. Sounded like a struggle. I thought you might need help." JD could feel the flush of color staining his cheeks as he tried to explain. It had been an honest mistake. They were in a strange town, just the two of them to back each other up. Vin would have done the same thing. So why was JD feeling like six different kinds of fool right now? Maybe it was because there was something a little off about the tracker tonight. Something different, besides being drunk. Something that made JD's stomach clench with a feeling that wasn't quite fear.
"I do need help."
"You do? With what?" JD switched his gun nervously back and forth between his hands. His bare feet felt cold against the floor as he stood there not quite knowing what to do.
"Well, why don't you put that toy of yours down before you shoot yourself in the foot and then you can come over here and help me get this damn boot off."
JD sidled over to the small bedside table and reluctantly placed his gun on it. Kneeling on the floor beside the bed, in front of the tracker, he began gingerly tugging at the boot Vin was holding out in his general direction. The boot remained stubborn and JD gradually forgot his earlier nervous feelings as he became absorbed in the task.
"Is your foot swollen or something, Vin?" JD asked in exasperation a few minutes later.
"Might be a bit. I seem to recollect fallin' once or twice on the way over here."
"Great." JD sighed as he again began trying to ease the boot off without damaging either it or Vin's foot. Although, if it came down to a choice between the two, Vin might prefer to save the boot. Good ones were expensive. And if there was one thing a man had to have, it was a decent pair of boots. And a hat. Ok, so that was two things. Although JD didn't think Vin gave much credence to that second requirement, judging by his choice in headgear.
"What's takin' you so long, JD? You don't have to be so gentle. I ain't no Cinderella. And this ain't no glass slipper. And you..."
"Ain't no Prince Charming. I know." JD finished sourly, tugging a bit harder at the recalcitrant boot.
"I wasn't gonna say that. You're young, strong, can shoot straight, and you take a bath more than once a week. What else is there? And besides, you're kind of cute."
"Shut up, Vin." JD could feel the tips of his ears turning red. Dammit, he'd had about enough of that for one night. And he couldn't believe he was telling Vin, who usually didn't say more than a few words in a week's time, to shut up. Vin was sounding more like Buck than like Vin tonight.
"When was the last time you heard a drunk fella shut up, JD?"
Vin had a point. JD gave it some thought as he pulled and tugged. "I saw it happen last week." he finally offered, grunting in satisfaction as he felt the boot give way. He shoved it aside and sat back to look at the tracker. "There was this cowboy acting up in the saloon a bit, so Chris gave him one of those looks. You know the kind I'm talking about. The man turned three shades of pale and didn't say another word the rest of the night. Not even when Ez cheated him out of his whole month's payroll."
"Vin?" The tracker had a funny look on his face and JD was suddenly nervous again. No. This was definitely not Buck. Buck made him mad as hell sometimes, but Buck never made him nervous. The only ones who ever made him nervous were Chris. And sometimes Josiah. And now Vin.
"Well, Chris ain't here, is he." It wasn't a question.
"Nope. Chris ain't here." JD agreed, his gaze skittering over Vin who had already shrugged out of his hide coat and was now working on his shirt.
"Well, if you don't need anymore help, I reckon I'll go back to bed." JD got quickly to his feet and reached over for his gun, suddenly anxious to be gone, spooked by his friend's behavior.
Drunk as he was, Vin was still fast. The tracker's hand closed over JD's gun a second before JD's own.
"What's your hurry, JD? A man in my condition, you never know when he might need some help."
"I'm right next door." JD slowly drew his hand away from the table where the gun lay, leaving it in Vin's possession. Vin was his friend. Vin wouldn't shoot him. Although at this moment in time, he wouldn't take any bets on that if he didn't have to.
"Not good enough." Vin shook his head, idly picking up JD's gun. He set it back down and looked at his companion.
"Why not?" JD was a bit apprehensive about the tracker's answer. Who knew what the heck Vin was going to say, the way he was acting?
"Cause I can't do this if you're next door." Vin reached out and grabbed JD around the waist. JD could feel himself falling towards Vin onto the bed, but somehow the tracker rolled and twisted so that JD wound up pinned underneath the tracker's body.
Shock held JD immobile. He stared up into Vin's blue blue eyes, breathing in the scent of whiskey and feeling the rough rasp of Vin's partially unbuttoned shirt through the thin cotton of his own union suit. That's all he'd worn to bed. Maybe he should've at least kept his pants on over them. He'd never in his life felt this naked, even when he was naked. He couldn't tell if he liked the feeling or not.
It wasn't until he felt Vin's lips warm against his own, until he felt Vin's tongue wet in his mouth, that he knew.
"No." JD turned his head, trying to evade the tracker's kiss.
"You tryin' to tell me you don't want this, JD? I've seen how you look at me and some of the others."
"I don't look." JD tried to buck Vin's weight off him, thrashing wildly. All this did was push their bodies into closer contact. The tracker growled, nuzzling fiercely against the side of JD's neck. JD yelped as he felt both the sharp nip of another's teeth at his neck and the unmistakeable hardness of another's cock against his hip.
"I'm giving you a chance to do more than look." Vin slid a hand down between their bodies and gave JD's cock a squeeze. A tear ran out of the corner of JD's eye, tracing a narrow pathway across his face til it disappeared into his hair, leaving just the faintest trace of moisture along the top of his ear.
"No." JD could feel Vin's lips slide down his neck. The tracker's breath was warm against his skin.
"No?" Vin was still stroking JD's cock. He paused long enough to slide that hand up and unfasten the first few buttons of JD's undergarment, pushing aside the material to expose JD's bare skin. The other hand was still holding JD's wrists above his head in an iron grip.
"Please, Vin." JD could feel more tears sliding down his face.
"Please what? Please don't show you the truth about yourself? Please don't touch you like this? Are you sure that's what you want?" Vin whispered huskily, before flicking his tongue lightly across JD's nipples.
JD couldn't help himself. He whimpered. That small sound accomplished what all his words and struggles had not. Vin raised his head and looked at him, then abruptly let him go.
"JD? Christ. JD, I'm sorry." Vin rolled off of him and JD scrambled across the bed and lunged for his gun. The bullets went rolling in every direction and JD cursed, hurling the gun violently across the room.
"Jesus, Vin. What were you thinking?" JD got to his feet and glared at the tracker who was now sitting upright on the bed with his back against the wall.
"You don't want to know, JD. You don't want to know." Vin said softly.
"No. What I want to know is how you could do something like that. I thought we were friends." JD scrubbed angrily at his lips with one hand as he spoke.
"We are friends. Or we were, anyway. I'm sorrier than I can say, kid. You shouldn't have to be lookin' over your shoulder for friends to do ya harm. Except sometimes, friends can do harm worse than any outlaw you ever seen."
"Yeah. You got that right."
"I'll ride out at first light. When you get back home, you can tell the others... well you don't gotta tell them nothin', I reckon."
JD stared at the tracker for a long moment before turning away, head bowed. "No. You don't have to do that. What happened... it wasn't your fault. It was mine. You were right. I have looked. Done more than look now."
"And you didn't like it." Vin said quietly.
"No. I liked it too much." JD raised his head to look at the tracker before he turned and walked slowly out of Vin's room and back into his own, closing the door quietly behind him.
Vin glanced down at the empty, abandoned bottle of whiskey that lay beside the bed. Leaning over he carefully picked it up and aimed it towards the far wall. The sound of shattering glass was loud in the silent room. But not loud enough to drown out the muffled sound of weeping next door.
THE END
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