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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 23 days

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So I done goofed, and my brain wasn't happy until I wrote a sequel to my little Barbed Wire Hearts snippet/ask/prompt thing from yesterday. So here ya go!

@swifty-fox @moghraidhs this is very much for you because we all needed this to happen

I recommend listening to this while reading, it had me all up in my feels while writing this:

Walking into the hospital parking lot and seeing his old beat up red F150 still sitting there, like a silent vigil awaiting his return was almost a surreal experience for John. As much as he would have found the thought ridiculous in any other situation, he'd almost forgotten it existed in the time he had spent cooped up in the sterile environment of the hospital, mind awash with more pressing matters. Coupled with the stress and worry that had oozed from every single one of his pores like a sickness, the outside world other than room number 13 and its occupant was the only thing he had been mentally able to put any real energy into.

Curt and a few of the other boys had stopped by every few days to slink their way into the wing, jeans and boots and cowboy hats sticking out like a sore thumb amongst scrubs and white coats and had brought him a duffle bag of spare clothes and toiletries so he could use the visitor's showers. He'd made it pretty clear in the first days that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon, not even to pick himself up anything to eat (when he could remember to).

Curt had been an angel in that sense, too. He'd brought Bucky dinner a few nights in a row in the fortnight he was there, some cheap takeaway from one of the diners in the middle of town, burgers and such. And those nights he couldn't make it in to check up on things John had very helpfully been informed by one of the nurses on shift that she was to remind him to eat, even if it was from one of the crappy vending machines dotting the hospital corridors at the behest of a very worried friend that had called the front desk. The soft amused smile the woman had flashed his way alerted him to the fact that none of the nurses were bothered by Curt's mother-hen phonecalls. Especially when Bucky hadn't turned his phone off of silent since he'd been there and one too many calls had gone to voicemail. He knew he'd be getting an earful off Curt and the other boys once he had made it back to the grounds, but he also knew he'd be quickly forgiven his neglect, given the current circumstances.

As he got closer to the truck, pulling his keys out of his coat pocket and twirling them around his index finger, Bucky took a quick glance back over his shoulder at the figure not too far behind him, making sure they were still following him.

Buck still looked like he'd been hit by a semi truck, blue eyes cast down to the pavement as he diligently followed Bucky on auto-pilot, bruises still stark over his face, albeit slightly faded now, but still evident. Still sore looking. His left arm was cast from the hand all the way up to his elbow, held up gently in a sling over his good shoulder. Bucky had no doubt the other man could still feel the telltale ache in his left shoulder-socket where it had been popped completely out in the accident, features wincing every now and then if he stepped too heavily and jostled himself.

His blond hair was in a messed up disarray, bed-hair born of two weeks of laying in an uncomfortable hospital bed for hours at a time, sticking up in some places and falling softly across his forehead in others. The nurses had helped him up and into the room's private bathroom the night before and had helped him finally have a shower before he got discharged the next morning, an awkward affair that Bucky knew the blond didn't necessarily want to talk about if the blush that had painted his pale cheeks when prodded was anything to go by. Better than having to be given a spongebath though, by a long shot, and Bucky couldn't have agreed more.

He also couldn't help the small smile that pulled up at the corner of his lips as he raked his gaze over the smaller man's body, taking in the soft grey over-sized sweatpants (Bucky's) tightened as much as the drawstrings would allow around thinner hips, tucked loosely into worn Twisted X square toe boots. A good idea in hindsight when there was no way Buck would have been able to get himself into a pair of his usual jeans with the soreness of the bruising up his thigh and over the jut of his hip bone, matching his face in colour albeit a bit more angrier looking.

The nights were a bit cooler than they were a week or so before, so at Bucky's insistence Gale was also draped in one of John's massive Ariat puffer jackets, only one arm able to fill the sleeves while the other hung uselessly at Gale's side. With the collar pulled up around his ears, John felt a sense of pride and slight satisfaction knowing he was wearing his clothes. Everything but the plain white tshirt underneath the draped layers.

Walking over to the passenger side quickly after shoving the key in the driver's side door and unlocking it, Bucky opened the passenger door and swept his other arm out in a low gesture, a smirk on his face.

"After you, princess," he drawled, delighting in the unimpressed lift of an unbruised brow shot in his direction, but no real heat or disdain behind it.

He patiently waited with the door held open, allowing Buck to gingerly hoist himself up into the truck's cab knowing if he tried to assist in any way he'd get sworn at for his trouble, ever the independent hard-headed idiot Buck often was. Once the other man was seated comfortably, only a few winces and sharp intake of breath painfully hissed through clenched teeth, Bucky carefully shut the door and trotted around the front of the truck to climb into the driver's seat. He gave a double glance into the truck bed at his and Buck's bags he had tossed in a little while earlier before he'd gone back in to help with the discharge papers.

The old truck roared to life without much protest, and he couldn't help the self-satisfied little chuckle that escaped him, patting the dash like the vehicle was a loyal old dog at his heels. As much as he'd nearly forgotten about her amongst the chaos, he was happy to be back behind her wheel, even if the leather was peeling just a tiny bit from sun damage. It added more character, he thought.

He looked over at Gale, noticing the younger man sitting still and almost stiff, eyes zeroed in on the dash but glazed over in thought and what was probably left over sedation from the heavy painkillers he was given. His expression was blank, nothing giving away even the slightest hint at what was running through that pretty head of his, and Bucky felt that telltale tightening in his throat creep up again. But before he let it get a permanent grip, he reached forward, grabbing the black felt hat that had been sitting on the dash since the previous day (thanks, Curt) and picking it up before turning and dropping it perfectly over Buck's head.

The other man flinched in surprise, ripped out of his thoughts and his bright blue eyes coming back into focus as he turned to look at Bucky, a confused frown creasing his brow as he brought up his working hand and felt the hat underneath his fingers. He straightened it a few centimetres, eyes looking between Bucky's in a numb sort of questioning expression.

"My hat," he said dumbly, voice quieter and still that hint of lost that had Bucky swallowing back emotions that he didn't want to put a name to, instead letting a bright smile grow from his smirk in the blond's direction, teeth bright.

"Well, can't be much of a cowboy without your hat now, can you?" Bucky smiled, watching every minute change in Buck's expression like a hawk. He was rewarded with a swooping sensation in his chest when he noticed the smallest grin colour Buck's face, eyes flickering away from Bucky's with a small huff of a laugh to focus out the windshield.

"Don't think I'll be much of a cowboy for the next couple weeks, Bucky," Gale muttered. As if in stark reminder, he winced as he shifted slightly in the worn leather seat, obviously jostling one of the many painful areas littering his body.

"Ahhh come on," Bucky joked, leaning forward slightly to grip the ancient clutch and put the truck into gear. "You're still one of the best cowboys around, even if you are bruised and battered to high heaven."

Gale huffed out another light breath of a laugh, lifting his good elbow up to rest it against the open window, hand and fingers dangling on the outside and tapping a gentle beat against the metal of the door as Bucky pulled the vehicle out and towards the end of the parking lot onto the main road.

The next half hour of the drive back to the rodeo grounds was silent, just the monotone hum of the local radio turned down to barely audible from the truck's old speakers and the quick whoosh of another vehicle every now and then, passing them on the highway on the way back to where they'd just came from. The sun had dipped low enough on the horizon now that the reaching expanse of the county they were in painted a picture through the slightly dirty windshield, sky lit up in oranges and reds streaked through by a few stray clouds.

Bucky would hazard glances from the corner of his eyes every now and then at Gale, who sat still and stoic beside him, chin now rested in the palm of his hand against the window, eyes cast out to the scenery that rolled by. Bucky could tell that under the surface there was something much more sinister and harsh squeezing at Buck's heart and thoughts, spiraling down deep into a void that he worried he wouldn't be able to pull the younger man out of, even if he lassoed him like a runaway steer.

At some point, with a nervous swallow, Bucky reached his free hand out, covering Buck's thigh with the expanse of it, feeling the tension in the muscles and gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze, gentle and barely there, but a reminder he was right there with him all the same. He counted it as a win when he noticed Buck's face turn to him slightly with a soft smile, eyes very obviously still avoiding John's own before turning back to the view from the window. It had Bucky releasing a long breath he hadn't realised he had been holding hostage in his chest. He didn't attempt to remove his hand, and Buck didn't make any effort to shift out from under it. If anything, he leaned into the touch, knee swinging softly towards the gear stick in Bucky's general direction after a few moments. A silent thank you.

Bucky couldn't help the gentle self-satisfied smile that graced itself onto his face.

By the time Bucky turned the truck off the highway and through the big open gates of the grounds, the sun had dipped that much further underneath the distant mountains that everything was washed in a barely perceivable darkness. What was left of the sunset was slowly turning itself to the deep blue of the night, stars beginning to reveal themselves against the quickly fading orange glow.

As the beam of the truck's headlights lit up the dirt road further into the grounds and towards the still set up camps close by the back of the arena, the familiar sight of gooseneck trailers and camper trailers, awnings folded out and a pit fire settled in the middle amongst them came more into view.

They could see the silhouettes of a dozen people, Curt and Dougie and Brady and the rest all chatting away circled around the fire, beers in a few hands as Bucky slowly pulled the truck to a stop up beside Crosby's trailer. It wasn't until he had turned off the engine, hopping out of the cab with stiff knees and moved around to Buck's side that Curt's voice cut through the night and reached them through the other voices.

"Ayyyy, the great Champion returns!" Bucky couldn't help the grin from painting his face as he looked up, mid opening Buck's door and seeing Curt walking in their direction, back lit up in orange from the fire's warmth and arms lifted above his head, beer bottle in one hand.

Buck had only just planted his boots on the ground with a slightly pained grunt before he was swept up in a happy but very careful embrace by Curt, the other shorter man being incredibly cautious as to which parts he touched, but none the less enthusiastic in his greeting. The curve of Buck's own smile, teeth glinting in the half darkness caught Bucky's eye and he couldn't help the weight that lifted from the centre of his chest.

"It's good to see you, Buck. They finally release you from that hellhole, huh? Thought our good ol' Bucky here was gonna rot himself to that chair by your bed if you didn't get outta there soon."

Bucky couldn't help the bashful way he rubbed at the back of his neck at Curt's words, hoping the slight colour that rose to his cheeks wasn't too obvious in the lowlight when Buck shot him a soft glance from his peripheral.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away, Curt," Buck joked back. It was light-hearted and jovial, appeasing Curt's attention on him, but Bucky could see that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a blank faraway look behind those baby blues, and it made Bucky's chest restrict uncomfortably as he watched as more of the boys made their way over. They all stepped forward to squeeze the blond cowboy's good shoulder or shake his good hand, some like Brady and Jack and Crosby mirroring Curt and pulling Buck into a gentle embrace, ever careful of his injuries.

Once they had all made their way over to the fire's warmth, Curt all but forcing Buck into one of the fold out camper chairs in his usual mother hen ways, everyone took their turn updating him and Bucky on everything they had missed while they had been in the hospital. Buck more-so, considering the first almost week the man had been unconscious for most of the time and had missed more than Bucky had.

Curt took a few moments to admonish Bucky like he had expected at having had his phone on silent for nearly the entire time, but Bucky just waved him off with a cocky smirk. He kept glancing at Buck every few minutes, taking note of every small change in the blond's expression, the way he joked with the others, the small smiles and tilt of his chin when he laughed as much as his broken ribs would allow him to in their process of healing. To any of the others, everything was normal, Buck's gentle quiet nature and injuries the reasoning as to why he wasn't quite himself yet, why there wasn't that normal spark in the shine of his eyes. But Bucky could feel the tension, the exhaustion that was more than just from pain and injury radiating from Buck like he was melded with the man's very mind himself. Could see the way he tucked himself further underneath Bucky's jacket every now and then with a faraway look on his face before he made himself more alert to the conversations around him.

Bucky just sat and boded his time, happy to not have to make too much small talk amongst the other boys as the night further darkened and the numbers on his watch got later and later.

When most of the conversations had died down and a few of the boys had retired to their trailers for the night, a few still milling about with the happiness that both Buckies return had caused and talking amongst themselves, voices slightly slurred from alcohol, Bucky stood from his seat against the wheel of one of the goosnecks and shoved his slightly chilled hands deep into his pocket. Making his way over to where Buck was still seated in the camper chair, staring blankly into the fire which wasn't as fierce as earlier in the evening now.

Leaning down, his lips close to Buck's ear from behind he whispered a low "Come on, Sunshine, follow me for a sec. Got something I wanna show ya."

He smirked when Buck jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of his voice so close, obviously so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed Bucky make his way over. Craning his neck backwards so he could look up at Bucky's face, blue eyes trying hard to focus on him upside down, he frowned in question.

"Come on," Bucky repeated, smile soft and obvious as he stepped to the side a little and held his hand out to Buck in an offer to help hoist him to his feet. The blond almost looked like he wasn't going to move, body language hesitant and lips pursing into a tight line, before he sighed and reached out with his good hand, gripping Bucky's offered firmly and allowing himself to be lifted into standing, a small grimace of pain fluttering across his features at his ribs obviously screaming in protest.

Once Bucky was sure he had recovered, he tugged at their joined hands gently, tilting his chin in the direction of the arena with a small smile. Buck looked at him, still questioning in his gaze before he allowed himself to be lead through the cluster of trailers. He didn't drop Bucky's hand, but instead almost hesitantly thread their fingers together. Bucky couldn't help his heart from soaring as he gave Gale's hand a gentle squeeze in silent comfort.

Like second nature he guided Gale out of the gathered maze of trailers, the sounds of the other boy's voices growing further and further behind them until the arena was not far in front of them, only just visible by some of the smaller flood-lights that were still on around the barriers. When they got closer, and Bucky turned towards the holding yards, he felt Gale falter slightly, his hand pulling back subconsciously but he didn't drop their hold.

Bucky looked back at Gale's face, seeing the blond's eyes focused out onto the sands, expression blank but taut like a frayed guitar string on the verge of snapping, and he slowed his stride.

"Hey," Bucky spoke gently, like he was approaching a ready-to-spook horse. When Buck still didn't look at him, he gave their still joined hands a squeeze and a shake, until Gale finally snapped his eyes back to Bucky's. They were wide and had a look of slight fear buried deep behind, flickering over Bucky's face trying to look for some semblance of comfort. Bucky held their gaze for a few moments, both men having stopped in their journey, and waited until he knew Buck was partially back in the present. "Hey it's okay, I promise. Trust me."

Gale's expression was still one of veiled panic and grief for a few more seconds, before he found whatever he was looking for in Bucky's own face and let his shoulders slouch and relax, breath exhaling slowly with a small nod.

With a comforting smile, Bucky tugged at their hands gently until Gale fell back into step behind him, eyes still glancing over to the middle of the arena every now and then like he was seeing invisible monsters advancing towards them.

Bucky could only imagine what was going through the smaller man's head, still often privvy to his own torturous memories and images from the day of Buck's accident no matter how hard he tried to forget and push them back. Every now and then the picture of Gale's face, bright red blood flowing down one side of it and slack in unconsciousness, pale and looking for all intent and purposes dead kept haunting him. But he stamped those thoughts down, focusing instead on the feeling of Buck's thankfully now warm fingers between his own, the slight sensation of his fluttering pulse.

Making it to the holding yards out behind the bull chutes, Bucky carefully made his way through the maze of yards, keeping a firm grip on Buck's hand as the two men threaded their way in and out between metal gates and runs in the dark.

Gale's voice, hushed and urgent, reached him from behind, and the smile only grew on his face. "Bucky I can't fucking see. We're both gonna fall head over tit if you don't slow-"

"Shhh!" Bucky answered back, only pulling Gale further into the pens.

Gale made an affronted noise, mouth parted. "Did you just fucking shush me?!"

"Sure did, now if you'd just shut your pretty mouth and look."

Gale gave his hand a harsh squeeze in retaliation. "Did you forget the part where I just said I can't see? What the hell am I even supposed to be looking a-"

Buck froze in his following of Bucky, the taller man allowing himself to be pulled to a complete stop when Buck's hand pulled against his as the whuffled knicker of a familiar horse finally reached the blond's ears in the darkness.

Bucky turned, facing Buck so he could catch sight of the smaller man's face in the dim light, and he couldn't help the genuine warm smile that split his face, noticing Gale's eyes focused somewhere off behind him, shock evident and an obvious glint of wetness beginning to form against dark blond bottom lashes.

His lips moved silently, stuck on actually producing any noise, until he glanced up at Bucky, brow furrowing into a look of pain. "John.."

"She's been waitin' for you," John said simply in response, still smiling brightly and allowing Buck's hand to drop from his as the blond stepped past him towards the last square pen at the end of the lane.

Almost as if he was seeing a ghost, Buck walked up carefully, eyes flickering over every inch of the palomino mare's body, taking in every inch of her as she walked up to the rails and shoved her head through and pushed her nose into Gale's chest, still murmuring at him. He couldn't help the way his breath rushed out of him at the contact, good hand lifting up shakily until he rested it on the white of her blaze. She nudged at him again, a questioning sort of move and lipped at the cast around his other arm. A silent question of 'what the hell is this thing? Why do you have this?'

Bucky slowly walked up to stand beside Buck, reaching up and resting his arms onto the higher rails in a casual air of relaxtion, and watched, transfixed as Gale just stared at the horse, hand still on her face, the younger's breathing jagged and coming in short bursts. Shock, relief.

After a few more moments, Buck seemed to come back to himself, a disbelieving breath escaping parted lips and turned his gaze back to Bucky. John could see the tears still evident in the other man's lower lashes, glittering and growing and threatening to fall to the dust underneath them.

"H-how..?"

Bucky smiled at him, resting his forehead against his folded arms and looked at the mare in question. "Curt's been looking after her while you were gone. Made sure she was real pampered, 'til you got back and did the pampering yourself."

"But she.. Bucky, I thought she was.."

Bucky chuckled, low and easy, and nudged his shoulder against Gale's. "What, dead? Nahhh, barely got a scrape on her. Tiny little cut just above the front hoof. Vet didn't even have to wrap it."

At John's words it was like a dam broke from within Buck, and he could only watch helpless as the tears gathered in the blond's eyes finally fell down his cheeks in silvery lines as he squeezed them shut, body bowing over at the waist with his good hand braced against his knee before straightening again. Buck tilted his face to the sky for a few seconds, breathing ragged, a barely audible sob hitching from his lungs painfully.

"I thought she broke her neck. God, Bucky I thought she was fucking dead, I thought she'd broke a leg, and she had to be shot. Fuck I- As soon as I woke up, that's all I could... that's all I could fucking-"

John stepped up to Gale, reaching up and pulling the smaller man against his broad chest and held him there, feeling the small tremors that wracked Gale's broken body. He put a hand against the back of Gale's head, fingers threading through golden strands, hat getting knocked off kilter and falling onto the ground.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. Everything's okay. Baby's okay. She's as tough as her goddamn rider," Bucky shushed him gently, resting his cheek against the top of Buck's head and just allowing the other to cry all but silently into his neck. He could feel the air chill the wetness there and looked up to the stars himself and thanked whatever was watching over them that Buck was still here, that he was still alive and able to be held in his arms like this. He felt his own eyes begin to gather tears at the fragility of the man in his arms, and swallowed harshly against them.

Bucky inhaled deeply, Gale's good hand clutched desperately in the side of his jacket, a warm weight sitting there as he pressed his lips into the crown of Buck's hair.

"Think she came out of it a bit better than you did, though," he whispered as an afterthought, lips curving into a smirk when he felt Gale clench his hand into a fist and thump it into his ribs in reply. He couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest, only slightly moving back so that he could look down at Buck, his smirk melting into a soft smile at the sight of Gale now looking up at him. Tear stained cheeks and lashes clumped together, a defiant glare but with no real malice directed at him, eyes bright and blue and more reminiscent of the Buck that John knew and adored.

Gale's eyes flickered from his down to his lips and back, frown easing into something much softer and more vulnerable, and Bucky thought his heart would explode at the pure emotion he could see mirrored in Buck's irises. His breath stuttered, smile slipping off of his lips and heart thundering like a freight train behind his ribs.

Everything fell into a syrupy slow motion as they stared at eachother, Bucky's hand that had been gently cupping the back of Buck's head slowly slipping around to cup the other man's cheek, slow and careful, thumb sweeping over the sharp line of his jaw in a barely there caress.

He swallowed thickly, noticing Buck nudge into that hold, eyes lowering back to his lips. He felt like his entire world was tilting on its axis, narrowing down to just the two of them standing out in the middle of the stock pens behind the arena where he nearly lost the one thing he had ever truly cared for more than the feeling of being perched up on a raging bull's back. Even riding a bull made his heart thunder less than it was right now.

Carefully, giving Gale the chance to pull away, he sighed, breath ghosting over the other man's lips. "Buck, I-"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me John before we both die of old age," Gale whispered harshly, good hand that was gripping into Bucky's jacket tugging now and John couldn't help the surprised smile from lifting his lips.

"Sure thing, cowboy," John laughed silently, revelling in the familiar exasperated roll of Buck's eyes towards him before he surged forward and ever so gently pressed his lips against Gale's, eyes closing against the absolutely overwhelming sparks that ignited in his chest like someone had just lit fireworks behind his sternum.

Gale's lips were soft, just like he'd imagined a million times, pliant and warm and so gentle it stole his breath away, and it wasn't until Buck's good hand reached up and threaded through his dark curls that he allowed himself to deepen the kiss, tilting his head slightly. His lips parted, allowing Buck the access to slip his tongue carefully along his own, insistent and starved but always gentle. He could feel the taut guitar string tension like a mockery of earlier in the night behind Gale's kiss, a long awaited hunger like a man starved and then unleashed among all the sustenance he could have ever wished for.

It wasn't until Buck made a small sound in the back of his throat, a small needy gasp that Bucky allowed himself to pull back slightly, letting his lips linger as he allowed Buck a few more soft kisses before he gasped himself, pulling air into his starved lungs and it was only then he realised that at some point he had stopped breathing all together.

Buck didn't chase, happy and content with what had just happened, but still comfortable to stay wrapped up in John's arms, no sign of regret or fear in any way, and Bucky let his eyes open slowly and wander over the ruined and wrecked expression on the other man's face. Kiss swollen lips were still parted, breath huffing sharply, body still trembling but for entirely different reasons than before now, and Bucky didn't think he had ever seen anything more perfect, more beautiful in his life. Nothing, not even winning the PBR in Vegas could make him feel as elated or wonder-struck as this moment right here, having just kissed Gale fucking Cleven in some random rodeo grounds.

Trying for a few moments to catch his breath, Bucky let his thumb graze over Gale's jaw again in a gentle gesture, watching half lidded blue eyes peer up at him in wonder. He couldn't help the breathless laugh that escaped him, forehead bumping against Buck's, tips of their noses touching shortly after.

Baby knickered from behind them, shocking them back slightly into the present and John laughed again, the mare reminding him of something.

"By the way," Bucky panted, grin curving even further "Curt may wanna demand some compensation looking after your girl. He's down one half of an ass-cheek as of two days ago. She's got a nice pair of chompers on 'er."

Buck realed back, shock evident in his eyes and the gape of his mouth. "She fuckin' what?"

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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 20 days

Text

a rough quick little edit for my Barbed Wire Hearts AU (Clegan)

@swifty-fox @moghraidhs @trashbag-baby666

:stock footage credit goes to rightful owners!!

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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 21 days

Text

HOME IS YOUR HEART - Clegan (Barbed Wire Hearts AU Series) Fic

@swifty-fox @moghraidhs @trashbag-baby666

I couldn't help myself, my cowboys were begging to be written again despite me having a raging ear infection and a high temp but FUCK IT, NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER (pun intended). Enjoy!!

When Gale steps down from the fold out step of his trailer, breathing in the distinct smell of the pitfire curling through the air, taking in the sound of his little band of ragtag cowboys chatting and laughing together from their various positions seated around it, he can't stop the warm and comforting feeling of home that settles deep in the recesses of his chest.

He can't stop that feeling from curling its way into every little nook and empty space of his body, filling in the cracks like honey, warming spaces that he never knew were sitting dormant and cold behind everything else. An unmistakable sense of belonging whispering into his soul, something that he hadn't felt since he was a boy, young and green roping practice dummys in his father's arena back home in Wyoming, his mother leaned up against the fence with the smile she had passed on to him in a carbon copy beaming wide and blinding white.

It was a feeling that slowly melted away the older he got. When his mother's presence disappeared from the inside of the Cleven family ranch home, her usual perch on the arena fence left empty and tainted with a grieving loss. Her boots that sat by the front door amongst the others leaving a space that he could never fill, allowing the empty cracks to start reaching further and further as time went on. Pulled apart with every harsh word from his father's mouth, every disappointed shake of his head, every hit that left an ugly burning fire both on his skin from a cruel open palm and burrowing deeper and deeper into his soul in the wake of it all.

But looking at where he was now, situated amongst some of the best men he had ever had the pleasure of calling friends, partners, a team, that warmth was slowly starting to trickle back in. It was in the way that Crosby was smiling sat over on the wheel-arch of his trailer, Bubbles close next to him, an arm draped over his shoulder and smiling up drunkenly at Douglas and Everett as they recalled some story with exuberant smiles and arm gestures.

It was in the way Brady was kneeling down on one knee near the open tack box, showing Hambone how to properly strap his boots tight around his calf with flat leathers for the next bull-ride. The other man's scarred face intent and interested and asking questions like a schoolboy in the presence of a scholar, beer bottle balanced precariously between loose fingers.

Jack sat in one of the camper chairs closer to the fire, pointing out somewhere in the distance with a concentrated frown and trying to explain something to Benny while the other man frowned out in the same direction with his left hand hanging down from his own chair to absentmindedly scruff his fingers through his husky, Meatball's, fur, the dog laying sleepily at his side enjoying the ministrations.

It was in the giddy love-struck smile of Curt, holding the new paramedic, Kenny, on his knee, a sweet boy who had only recently been brought into the fold. One of Curt's arms draped loosely around his waist and murmuring hushed words close to the other boy's neck, the younger's face turned slightly to him with a mirroring grin soft and fond on his lips. A hearty laugh only a moment later, head thrown back and Curt's smile growing that much more that you could spot it from miles away, even without binoculars.

Gale felt his own lips curve into a fond smile at the two, eyes leaving them to scan over the top of the fire's flickering warmth. Feeling his own chest compliment the reaching warmth as it crescendoed into its own fire-like sensation when he spotted John, sat comfortably and lazily in his own camping chair, doing what Gale was and observing the men around him with his own soft grin. His hat was tipped down low against his brow, half hiding the bright blue of his eyes, knees spread in content, sinking lower into the cushioned seat as he took a sip of the beer bottle in his hand.

Like he could feel Gale's eyes on him, those stormy blue irises lifted and zeroed in on him with laser focus over the sparks of the fire, softening with affection, grin turning into a wide smile, teeth glinting at him in the glow.

Gale couldn't help the way his heart thundered like a wild horse being corralled at being the cause of that smile, neither could he stop the flush he felt colour his cheeks into what he knew was a faint red that he hoped could be explained away by the fire's heat. Could feel his own teeth bare helplessly into his own giddy smile as he tilted his head down in a shy gesture as he stepped away from the door of his trailer and make his way around the pit in John's direction.

When he made it over to him, standing in front of him and situated slightly in between those open knees, fire at his back, John's smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Directed solely at him, because of him. Eyes staring up at him and taking in every inch of him with a casual ease.

Those open knees turned in to knock lightly against his own, expression full of mirth and adoration. Gale couldn't help the way his heart skipped at the fact that it was directed at him. Had never had anyone look at him in that way during his entire life. Not even his first and only girlfriend way back when he was a still an awkward and lanky 16 year old boy, being the affection of some pretty blond barrel racer from Tennessee that had pursued him for months and delighted in the fact she was eventually dating the son of the great team roping champion Joseph Cleven.

It didn't last long. It was short and sweet and Gale never really could understand why even when she broke up with him during the middle of a rodeo and he saw her not even an hour later making out with some amateur steer wrestler behind the stables, that he didn't really feel all that broken up about it. Couldn't find it in himself to care that someone who he had shared his first kiss and first fumbled handjob with in the back of the Cleven family trailer, had dumped him without so much as a glance backwards. Her perfect blond hair underneath a jewelled white hat bouncing as she sauntered away.

Wasn't until he started noticing the strong shoulders of some of the other ropers, the cocky stubbled smiles of the bullriders and the curve of the asses of the steer wrestlers in perfect fitting Wrangler jeans that he kind of started to understand.

Growing up in the rodeo world, though, where 95% of the families and competitors were heavily influenced by the bigoted views of Christianity and religion, he couldn't afford to let his eyes or his heart linger on his new-found preferences in any way. Not if he didn't want to have his face caved in in some shadowed corner of one of the many rodeo grounds or arenas and left like a bag of trash with a slur branded onto his skin with a hot iron.

So he'd put his head down and focused solely on his craft, solely on the feel of his name being broadcast over the speakers in triumph and the feel of wrapping the rope of his lasso tight over the horn of his saddle and carrying on the merit of the Cleven family name. He'd never let his eyes wander again, never wondered what it would be like to just give in and let himself toy with the idea of being someone's whole world, of being someone's object of affection and heart and the recipient of a gentle and adoring or lustful touch.

His father's words of a relationship being nothing but a worthless distraction in the face of what he could (and should) be accomplishing. Bringing home another buckle to add to the display case in the living room was more important than bringing home a girl on his elbow, all saccharine smiles and promises of a late spring wedding and 2.5 kids running around the ranch in a few years time.

Didn't have the heart to even retort to his father's words that it wasn't girls that he had to worry about Gale bringing home or looking at.

Until John Egan. That damn cocky louder-than-life and brash down to the bone bullrider that all but sauntered his way into the chutes and Gale's life quicker than if he were to sit on Baby's back and have her galloping full pelt through the flats of the wide open fields back home.

Said bullrider knocked one of his knees back against Gale's once again, pulling him back to the present and back to that blinding smile that had softened into something a little more concerned but no less adoring at Gale's silence. Had no doubt his eyes had gone glazed and unfocused amongst the tirade of his mind for a few moments.

"You doing okay there, cowboy?" John said gently, the hand not holding a beer bottle reaching forward and taking hold of his thigh over his jeans, squeezing tenderly in a comforting caress.

Gale swallowed thickly, collecting what little composure he had let slip back firmly against his chest. Tilted an easy smile down at John, eyes flickering over the brunette's face, the warm orange glow of the fire at his back only highlighting the other's sparse barely-there freckles trailing across his nose and over his cheeks. Felt that tidal wave of emotion and affection melt back into him, right where it should be.

"Sure am," Gale murmured lowly, reaching a hand down to cover Bucky's where it was still sat grounding over his thigh. "Was just thinkin', is all."

John hummed in question, hand starting to run absentmindedly up and down as he watched Gale's face with curious eyes. "What about?"

Gale watched him right back, a gentle sigh slipping past his lips against his control, and couldn't stop that wave from breaking over the borders and spilling over into a heedy molasses-slow overload that had his heart lighting up into more than just a fire, into something that more resembled the sun.

He watched John for a few more moments, those questioning blue eyes still searching and waiting on Buck's every word like a dog sitting at his feet and awaiting a command in the hopes of a reward.

"How much you mean to me," Gale finally murmured, watching as something hopeful and bright and absolutely smitten crossed over John's face and came to life in his eyes, smile turning lazy and so self satisfied again that Gale wanted to hide away from the barrage of feelings it illicited inside him.

Went easily when that large hand on his thigh tugged gently until he had to twist himself slightly in his descent downwards, pulled onto John's lap and into the other's warmth. Felt strong thighs tense underneath him before he moved into a more natural and comfortable position, ass fitting into the curve of Bucky's hips and back resting against a broad shoulder. He felt the distinct sharp curve of a large Champion buckle in the denim near his tailbone, but pushed back the small discomfort in the face of feeling like he was falling through the clouds at a million miles an hour.

Bucky rested his hand against Gale's hip, fingers a welcome press near the tooled leather of his belt and rested his chin against Gale's shoulder. His grin was still as prominent as ever, but his eyes were soft and half lidded, too close to focus on Gale's face so instead focused on the skin of his neck, the curl of his blond hair slightly longer at the back.

"That's a lotta thinkin, for little ol' me," Bucky whispered, slightly rocking the both of them side to side. Buck could feel the gaze still focused on his neck like a burn, but one he would gladly walk into covered in gasoline.

He turned his head to the side slightly, side eyeing Bucky as much as their position would allow at this angle. "Way I see it, you're worth a lot more than just thinking about, John Egan."

He heard the click of Bucky's throat as the other swallowed thickly at his words, something vulnerable permeating the air between them, but no less sweet.

Bucky hesitates slightly, seemingly lost for words, repeating Gale's over and over in his head. Buck can see it like a billboard sign lit up above him.

Finally, a shaky exhale, breath ghosting over his neck in a whisper, just as ragged. "Yeah?"

Buck hums in reply, turning his head a little more so he can look at Bucky a bit easier. Still not completely, but enough so that John's face, the tirade of emotions flowing over his features is more in focus. More open to Gale's attention and words. Sees blue eyes flicker up to his in an almost timid display.

"Yeah," Gale repeats, feels his face heat up from more than just the fire as the words that have built inside his chest, pushing and prodding and ready to burst through and out into the air like the sun itself had rooted itself there and made a home. Home. "You've made your home in me John, and for the first time in my life, I wanna build those foundations with my damn bare hands. Wanna be there building it with you."

He sees the moment his words truly sink in to John, make the other man finally hold his gaze, vulnerability and awe in every inch of his expression, brows pulled together in a questioning ache.

"Gale.." Bucky chokes on his words, throat constricting on another harsh swallow, mouth parted like every single moment leading up to this has lodged against his windpipe.

"Won't be building it without you, Bucky."

John stares, transfixed, gaze trailing between Buck's eyes like he's trying to convince himself that everything he's experiencing is real. That he can reach out and touch it as easily as his hands are holding Buck now, beer bottle long forgotten in the grass. His fingers flex against Buck's hips, pressing in without thought.

"You sure?" he whispers, broken and trembling like a kid trying to talk to his first teenage crush, fumbled and nervous and not sure if any of it is real. A broken man, stranded in the desert, being offered his first glimpse of salvation.

Buck can't help the soft smile that makes its way onto his face, turning that bit more, leaning forward slowly until the tip of his nose brushes Bucky's, soft and gentle. Feels the shaky exhale from Bucky's lips straight against his own.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," Buck murmurs, low and strong, leaving not even an inch of doubt anywhere. Mirrors the words he said to Curt all those weeks ago when he'd returned from the hospital, weak and shaky like a newborn colt.

Within a single blink, he feels the way Bucky's fingers tighten even further against him, a quick surge of mere millimetres to press his lips insistently to Gale's like that broken stranded man, salvation coming to him in the physical golden form that was Gale Cleven and every prayer he'd ever uttered being answered all at once.

Gale's hand flies up to cup his jaw, sinking further into John's body and the comfort that envelopes him in one big wave as that sunshine in his chest finally bursts from the dam it had self constructed, all those years of being hidden away like a shameful, evil thing. Cast away and never to be brought to light.

Bucky kisses him and pulls him into the light, now. He's frantic, and wild, and untamed, and Gale grips his jacket with the other hand that's not against John's jaw, feeling the sparks that spring forth from the feeling of Bucky's lips sliding against his. Tongue gentle and asking permission despite the wild energy, and Gale grants him it without hesitation, opening up to him like he's now become the starved one.

Buck's thoughts are molasses, slow and thick but still galloping at a million miles an hour and sweet like the taste of John, the careful slip of their tongues fighting a damned war, teeth occasionally knocking and lips becoming the victim amongst it, tenderly bitten against panting breath.

It isn't until that breath starts burning, screaming for air, a familiar sensation akin to their first kiss, that both have to pull away, but only my mere increments. Foreheads still pressed together, Bucky's hat long since pushed off and tumbled to the grass to join the beer bottle at their feet, noses bumping.

Gale can feel Bucky's lips touch his with every harsh panting inhale with how close they still are, and Buck thinks that he could stay here forever. Meld himself to every part of John so he never had to let him go, never had to feel the warmth of his body leave him.

His fingers twitch against Bucky's jaw at the onslaught of emotion still coursing through him, and its not until he manages to peel his eyes back open, the lids feeling heavy and weighted, that he locks eyes with Bucky's own. Everything is unfocused and slightly difficult to see being this close, and he has no doubt he's nearly going cross-eyed with the proximity, but Bucky's eyes are like staring into blue fire. Flames hotter than the one only mere metres from them.

Bucky huffs out a breathless laugh against his lips, and Gale can't stop the blinding smile that threatens to split his face in two if it got any wider.

"You've done it now," John pants, smile mirroring Gale's in a perfect sycnronization. "You're stuck with me, cowboy."

Neither men barely move when Bucky's words cause a chain reaction, Curt's enthused whistle cutting through the silence like a bullet that in turn caused a cacophony of whoops and hollers and whistles to erupt from everyone around them. They had almost forgotten that they weren't alone, were subject to an audience of people that they had all but become family with.

Buck's heart once again burst, the last of those empty cracks that had sat so empty and agonised finally filling in and setting like cement so that he felt completely and utterly whole. Everything slotted into place and it felt like the world had finally righted itself to make way for him.

He leaned forward, pressing his face in against Bucky's neck, cheeks flushed and warm and entire body rooted in place against the shining pillar that was John Egan.

The foundation finally set underneath him. Home.

He pretended not to hear Curt's over enthusiastic "All right, bitches, pay up! Money, in this hand, right here!"

Also pretended not to peer through half lidded eyes where he still had his face pressed to Bucky over to see half of the boys grumble and slap notes into Curt's outstretched palm as they walked past him, before handing the money to Ken, who took it with a smug face and started counting.

Bucky's laugh rumbling against Buck's body and jostling him had him turning his face back and grinning against his throat, pressing a soft kiss to the tender skin.

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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 25 days

Note

[Extends a hand when they see the other was searching for it while they’re sleeping] for any of your AUs?

Time for some Rodeo!AU content because it IS my first au I ever came up with and I have sorely neglected my first child :)

What I was listening to while writing this:

Bucky stabbed his finger against the worn numbers of the vending machine with a bit more malice than was probably warranted, but at that point he really couldn't be bothered to feign normalcy. He also chose not to glare at the look that one of the nurses gave him as she walked past at his annoyance, scurrying along quickly in her wrinkled scrubs.

The harsh over-head lights only served to make his head throb harder, exhaustion gripping him in its unforgiving talons. He muttered small mercys under his breath when the machine finally spat the energy drink he desperately needed down into the opening with a harsh rattle. His knees protested when he leaned down to grab it, every bone and muscle popping unpleasantly in a cacophony of aches and pains that he still wasn't a hundred percent used to even after years of harsh injuries and falls. He dreaded the future when he was in his 40's-50's with passion.

Running a hand down his face, allowing a sigh to slip past his lips, Bucky turned and made a familiar path back down the long sterile hallway. It was a maze of twists and turns to find the room he had all but taken to calling home for the last few days, but it had become second nature now. He didn't even have to put much effort into his own awareness to find himself exactly where he needed to end up.

Cracking the can held tightly in his hands, he allowed a quick mouthful of the acidic taste as he came to a stop in front of the closed door, the numbers 13 a dark contrast in black on pale white walls just to the left of it. He hazarded a quick blank look down to the toes of his sand covered Ariat boots, filthy and out of place where he was now, a deep breath filling his lungs before gently grabbing the handle and pushing open the door quietly. He squeezed himself through the small gap he allowed, trying not to let too much bright white light make its way into the dark void of the room.

Shutting the door behind himself was like cutting off the outside world completely, a tender silence enveloping everything like he'd just dunked his head underneath water, muted, calm and careful.

It was just a harsh reminder though when through that muted stillness, the monotonous beeps of a vital signs monitor and the slow clicking of a working drip shattered the false security he had let himself melt into when he had left for those mere few moments to grab himself the drink.

His throat felt impossibly tight, restricting and uncomfortable as he crept his way quietly across the room, skirting around the end of the hospital bed and back towards the big lounge-type chair that he had slept or sat in constantly for days on end. It wasn't until he had lowered himself gently back down into it with a barely audible oomph, sitting the can on the ledged windowsill, that he allowed his eyes to flicker over to the still sleeping form in the bed.

The tight sensation in his throat got worse as his gaze flickered over the dark mottled bruises painting the entire left side of Gale's face, purple and harsh on sun-tanned skin that made the smaller man look almost too pale in what little light managed to bathe the room from between the closed blinds of the windows leading out into the hospital hallway. Small, but large enough for doctors and nurses to look into in observation as they walked past during the daylight hours. Bucky was thankful for the blinds, not sure he could handle seeing Gale's state in that moment in complete luminescence.

He allowed himself to stare at the rise and fall of Gale's chest underneath scratchy white blankets for a few moments. Just letting his own breathing mirror it, the beeping from the monitor almost in sync with both of them.

The slight wet wheeze still evident in every other inhale from Gale's breath had his nervousness fight its way into his mind, but he forced himself to calm down, re-running the doctor's words from a few days before back through his head for what felt like the millionth time.

Concussion. Five broken ribs. Broken orbital socket. Severely fractured left arm, same shoulder dislocated but since resolved. Broken left wrist. Not critical. No life support needed.

He's going to be okay. He's going to be okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Bucky swallowed down the sudden nausea that tried to claw its way into his stomach, images he wished he never witnessed and could never think of again flashing into his mind in tiny almost frantic increments.

Leaning up against the rails of the arena, hearing the noise of the crowd in the stands and the garbled voice of the announcer through the old speakers of the current grounds they were at. Seeing Gale up on his horse at the end of the arena, lasso poised in a gloved hand. That tiny almost invisible nod to whoever was manning the cattle chute. The gates flying open, steer leaping forward into a sprint, Gale's spurring his horse forward only a second behind. The quick flat gallop up the length of the arena, lasso lifted and twirling, and then the split second of a hoof put wrong, a fluke, a one in a million.

Watching almost as if in slow motion as the horse flipped, violent and sharp and deadly, and Gale being a helpless victim in the motion, not able to react in any way other than going down with the animal and being crushed underneath its 1000 pound body, disappearing underneath the horse's mass. Dust and sand flew up in all directions, and it was only when out of the sudden chaos that one of the women in the crowd screamed in shock that Bucky was spurred out of his slack-jawed wide eyed stupor and had him vaulting himself over the rails and running in the direction of the tragedy that had just occurred right in front of everyone's eyes. That repeating voice in his head of he's dead, he's dead, he's dead like a skipping record player.

He couldn't recall much after that, just snippets of memory of people shouting and panicking, Douglas and Curt making it to Gale and the horse at the same time as Bucky. Curt's voice screaming angrily and scared at the officials and the people around them to get the fucking ambulance and medicals over here you bunch of no good fucking-

Bucky was pulled from his thoughts by the nearly imperceptible noise that came from Gale's direction, a pained whimper cutting through the dark, and Bucky half stood from the chair, ready to press the call button or run out to get any of the nurses or doctors close enough outside the room. But Gale was still, save for the small frown that creased his brow, pain fluttering over his features before smoothing back out into the bliss of a drugged sleep.

Bucky blew out the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding in relief, slowly lowering himself back down into the uncomfortable lumpy cushion of the chair. He didn't take his eyes off of Buck, taking in once again the painful looking dark bruises and the small cut splitting the other man's bottom lip, luckily no longer bleeding. Blond hair fell limply over his forehead, some of the strands still stained a washed out red from the days old blood that Bucky wasn't able to completely wipe away while Gale was unconscious to the world in those first two harrowing days.

Bucky's gaze flickered down, resting on the open palm of Buck's right (and thankfully, amazingly) uninjured hand that was reaching out unconsciously towards him, and he couldn't fight the sudden tears that sat threateningly against his lower lashes, ready to spill if he took one wrong move.

Gingerly, like Buck would break underneath his touch, Bucky reached his own hand out and let himself melt into the cold sensation of Buck's fingers and palm against his own, the slightly smaller hand all of a sudden seeming so fragile in the grand scheme of things. He wiped the traitorous tears of his eyes away with the back of his free hand, sniffling harshly in defiance.

Letting his eyes roam over Buck's now peaceful expression, he reached up and carefully brushed some of the wayward blond hairs off of the smaller man's face, trying not to fuss but at the same time letting himself feel the stark relief bleed through into his mind and heart.

He's going to be okay, he's going to be okay.

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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 18 days

Text

GREENER THAN WYOMING - Clegan (Barbed Wire Hearts AU series) fic

Posted here on ao3

Part 5 in my BWH buck x bucky series, again wrote in a day and a half coz god I needed this installment so bad, I had so much fun writing this. Hope you guys love this one as much as I loved writing it!

Didn't realise I wrote 12k+ words for this. Oops

BE WARNED: there is slight smut in this one :p

@swifty-fox @trashbag-baby666 @moghraidhs (if you want to be added to the tag list when i add more posts about this story, let me know!)

There's still sand and grit stuck to the side of his face when Bucky makes his way through the back of the bull chutes into the direction of the announcer's box, sweat making the fine granules plaster themselves to his skin and get stuck to the damp ends of the dark curls falling messily across his forehead.

He can feel also the sand that had gotten lodged in between his vest and shirt, some of it having fallen in against the skin of his ribs, but nothing he hadn't felt before. It came with the territory, and he couldn't help but feel the adrenaline still ebbing and waning in amongst his limbs and muscles like a familiar friend.

Despite it only having been a practice run before the current rodeo they were preparing for at the end of the week, it was still a good run. The fact that he'd half face planted into the dirt on his attempted dismount from the practice bull was only schematics. Easily brushed off in the grand scheme of things.

Sometimes he managed to land unsteadily on his feet, other times he got a little bit flung or the dismount was a little less graceful than he would have liked. But no one really batted an eye at it. All the other boys were used to it themselves so it was just another day at the office.

As he turns the corner building, absentmindedly bringing his hand up to brush some of the dirt away from his nose with a sniffle, Bucky can't help the way his heart picks up its still already racing tempo when he zeroes in on the familiar line of Buck's back standing just outside the door of the sponsor's office.

The other cowboy has his back to him, blond hair flicking up at the back from underneath his signature black hat, arms folded across his chest, making his shoulders that were only marginally slighter than Bucky's own seem wider as he talked calmly to whoever was standing in front of him. The white Wrangler logo stitched across the expanse stretched out slightly on his black button down he had worn that day.

Letting his eyes linger on the other man's form, a few seconds longer on the shape of him in the well fitted blue jeans, John made his way closer until he was standing at Buck's side. He brought his hands up to rest against his own hips, shifting his weight between his feet and realised it was Chick that Buck was currently locked in conversation with.

The older man glanced at Bucky with a smile and tip of his hat, a silent acknowledgement between them before focusing back on Buck with barely so much as a pause in the conversation.

"Really think he'd be a good fit for you, Buck. He's been in the circuit down in Kentucky for a couple years now. Still a little bit of the amateur class but he's looking to rise up and play with some of the big boys,"

Bucky only took half interest in what Chick was saying, still hearing the rush of sound behind his own ears and the ebb of adrenaline start to fade to the point that his body was sinking into that familiar lazy afterglow. Could feel his left knee wobble a little bit under his weight.

"What are we talkin' about?" Bucky asked offhandedly, looking between Buck and Chick in question.

Buck turned his face in his direction slightly, bringing him into their conversation as easily as a shift in his shoulders.

"Chick was just-" Buck paused momentarily, a hitch in the flow of his words when he looked at Bucky's face, a frown knitting his brow as he reached up and absentmindedly brushed away some sand off of Bucky's eyebrow and forehead in one flick before resuming what he was saying like he hadn't even stopped.

"Chick was telling me about some of the new boys he was thinking of adding to our circuit. Some new ropers this time too, and he was asking if I'd be interested in taking one or two under my wing for a bit. Test drive 'em and see if they can hold some mick up to the rest of us."

"That so?" Bucky smiled, looking down at Buck and the blank expression on his face, like always. But he could see the excited spark behind his eyes, the telltale clink of a spur being toed at with the other boot down below them.

He had to stamp down the sudden need to reach out to curve one hand over the blond's hip and pull him closer into his side.

Chick chuckled, a deep and amused sound as he nodded at Bucky from underneath the brim of his cap. "Figured our Buck, here, would be better than any to put them through their paces. And we got just under a week to see if they'll make a good fit."

"I'd be more than happy to," Buck grinned, aiming the last half of that smile towards John. "Got some new bull riders wanting to start too."

Bucky raised a brow in question, his own teeth glinting in a smile as he looked at Chick. A hound being sicked on the trail.

"Oh, fresh meat?" he drawled playfully. It earned him a barely felt side kick to the ankle from Buck, that only served to make him smile wider. "I'm kidding! But also, not really."

Chick laughed at him, shaking his head slightly in the way of a father being exasperated by the antics of an unruly son.

"As green as they come." Chick told him. "Couple of boys from the Juniors who just turned 18 and wanna come sit the big dogs."

Bucky nodded, thinking on back when he was that age and first sat on the back of one of the proper bulls, all 1500 pounds of muscle and agile rage between his thighs. Thought of the way he shook like a leaf for a good hour once he had his feet back firmly on the ground, but an adrenaline fuelled smile that he couldn't wipe off his face.

He hadn't stuck that day, being tossed within a mere 2.4 seconds, but it slotted something in to place for him and confirmed then and there that there was nothing else he would rather do from that point forward.

His only thought was when he would do it again, already chomping at the bit like a little kid wanting to take another go on the roller-coaster at the county fair.

"I'll look after 'em," Bucky told him, smile turning a bit softer. "Don't you worry that big head of yours, Chick."

Chick eyed him and hummed with a smirk, slightly disbelieving but fond.

"Im sure, I'm sure." He turned his amused gaze back to Buck, an air of seriousness now amongst the familiar comraderie. "The new ropers are due to roll in tomorrow, I got the word that they were headed out yesterday, so they should be here by mid morning. Mid day at the latest."

"The guy you were telling me about, Rosenthal," Buck questioned. "You say he was a heeler?"

Chick nodded. "Heeler and Header. He's whatever you need him to be, Buck. Guy near had a coronary on the phone once I told him I was handing him off to you to take care of."

Bucky didn't miss the slight colour that rose to Buck's cheeks at Chick's words, blue eyes lowering in his usual gesture of bashfulness at any praise or hint of reverence that came with his name.

It was something that Bucky would never cease to feel absolute endearment towards the other man for, and he couldn't help the way his heart stuttered every time he saw it. Like Buck still couldn't believe he was a revered and well know name amongst the rodeo and its fans and competitors alike. And it only served to make Bucky fall harder and harder each and every day, the humble nature burying itself deep down in his soul.

"I'll make sure to have Ken on stand-by, then." Buck muttered, and Bucky couldn't help the laugh Buck's words pulled from his chest.

Chick looked between the two men with a small smile, an air of pride obvious in the way he straightened his posture with a small nod. "I'm counting on you two. Now go on, get outta here. I've got paperwork to settle and I'm sure you've got somewhere important to be, shit to get ready."

He eyed Bucky up and down, head to toe, taking in the still sweat slick hair and sand and dirt that was covering one side of him like an overgrown half-sugared donut, smile feigning innocence.

"And a shower." He tacked on as a last minute thought.

Bucky threw Chick a lazy salute in reply, grinning as the other man turned and wandered back into the office muttering under his breath.

He turned to look at Buck, plastering on a wide innocent smile. The blond could only look at him in exasperation, but the small smirk Bucky spotted underneath the black brim of Gale's hat took any serious bite out of it.

Just like Chick had promised, the new crew rolled in around 11am the next morning, a train of brand new Chevy pickups dragging along new and old goosenecks and trailers through the grounds to park in a polite and organised manner amongst the others across the camp ground.

John watched from afar, seated in a fold out chair lazily underneath the awning of Buck's trailer with Curt and Crosby while half a dozen unfamiliar faces filtered out of the trucks. Some boisterous and brash, loud young men who were obviously the greenest of the bunch, while two or three others leisurely surveyed their surroundings, taking in the arena not far off aways and the atmosphere that this particular ground gave off.

A couple of the men wandered back towards the rear of the trailers, swinging open double doors and Bucky could hear the thundering steps of horses banging in the back, obviously eager to step off and on to new soil after being holed up in the small spaces for hours on end.

Letting his head roll back loose on his neck so John could look back towards the closest end of the arena, he let his eyes settle on the familiar form of Buck perched up on Baby's back where he'd been for the past half hour, expertly turning her this way and that with barely a twitch of his fingers on the reins.

The mare went easily and obedient, golden coat gleaming under the not-too-harsh sunlight as she spun on her heels and started off at another lope in the opposite direction. They reached about half way before Buck made a low noise, eyes tilted downward at her neck and she planted her hooves in a dead stop, backing up a few steps before spinning and repeating it with a light squeeze from Gale's leg against her flank.

Bucky couldn't help the shiver that trailed up his spine as he watched Gale so expertly put her through the paces of a warm up, keeping her movements quick and agile and working as a perfect team that most other ropers on the circuit could only dream of accomplishing with their own horses, even after years of training and experience.

Riders that had been in the saddle for longer than Buck had been alive still struggled to mirror the air of confidence and partnership that the two had.

It made a coiling heat sit in the bottom of John's stomach as he took in the barely-there grip that Buck had on the long pieces of leather in his hands, delicate looking fingers only twitching here and there in practised commands that Baby could obviously feel against her mouth, no matter how light.

John had to swallow harshly against the sudden dryness of his throat. Images and flashes of memory of those same fingers threaded through his hair and tugging insistently in the throes of a quick bout of passion earlier that morning, tucked away in Gale's trailer as the sun was barely creeping its way up above the horizon invaded his mind.

When the rest of the campground's occupants were still dead quiet and lost to sleep. Bucky had rolled over still half asleep himself when Gale had elegantly climbed his way over him to start getting himself ready for the day, and he'd watched through the small opening from the bed loft into the extended living space of the trailer as the other had wandered naked and quiet gathering up jeans and a shirt from the wardrobe, pulling his belt from a hanger with a clink of metal.

It had only taken a few minutes of John watching him through half lidded eyes, taking in the sight of Buck's tanned shoulders, the small spatter of scattered beauty marks here and there that broke up the perfect expanse and the curve of the cowboy's toned and perfect ass before Bucky had felt his cock stir to life underneath the sheets.

He'd waited silently, feigning sleep until Buck got close enough to the loft's opening before he'd struck out in one quick movement like a rattlesnake and grabbed the blond by the arm, pulling him back in and up onto the bed with an answering surprised yelp that had Bucky grinning like a mad man despite himself.

Despite Buck's quiet protests that he had shit to do and he didn't have the time, it only took a few instances of lips pressed expertly to certain places against the taut line of his throat. John's large hand buried in the back of sandy toned blond hair to pull his head back to expose more of it, ripping involuntary and slowly growing rapid shaky breaths and sounds, that had Buck finally breaking and growling out a sharp frustrated shout like an infuriated mountain lion and flipping Bucky onto his back in one expert movement.

He couldn't help the self satisfied feeling that enveloped him when Buck surged up to kiss him, insistent and hungry, teeth sinking into the plush skin of his bottom lip. Proud and smug knowing that he could melt away Buck's carefully crafted resolve and self control with only a few words or touches of his hands or lips in certain areas, with certain pressures. Could have the other lose it and charge forward head first into Bucky like a captured wild horse that had just had the gates to freedom swing open right in front of him and out into the wilderness.

He had expected the usual, Buck pressing all the right buttons in the abandoned way he always did, driving John to near madness with starved yet soft kisses that would slowly begin to trail downwards, first over his throat before descending to his chest.

A prisoner to the way Buck would drag his talented fingers and lips over the sensitive buds of his nipples, looking straight up at him with those baby blues, clouded over with something dark in lust like a storm cloud when Bucky would have to lift his head just to get a glimpse of him that he would always be helpless to crave.

Just a quick look before it became too much for his melting brain to handle and he would have to let his head fall back against the blankets before it was over a lot quicker than he would like.

He would lose himself even more to Gale's ministrations, not long before the blond would open him up on those same talented digits while perfect lips enveloping his cock as he worked, leaving John a writhing mess of a man before feeling Buck sink perfectly into the warm wet heat of him.

But Buck had crawled back up the length of his body, studiously ignoring the heavy heat of his cock that was leaking in unrestrained want against the dark hair trailing against his stomach and grabbed his chin between thumb and forefinger.

He'd pulled Bucky's face back down to his own, making him focus on blue eyes that seemed far too bright and electric, manic, with so little light, and it had made John pause and just stare at the sudden vulnerability there that had mixed itself amongst the lust.

Gale had kissed him, sweet but still frantic, a whispered "Gotta be quick, we don't have long," before kissing John once more and then leaning back.

Bucky felt the cold shock of the air in the absence of Gale's warmth, thinking he had meant they had to be quick before the other boys started to stir awake themselves with the progression of the sun's rise.

But the thoughts had whisked themselves away into nothingness, swept away into just pure dumb want as he watched Buck reach in to one of the little side nooks around the edge of the bed, pulling out the small tube of lubricant they'd stashed away and then reaching back before working himself open on his own fingers.

Something in John's brain completely misfired, crackling into an exposed and heated live-wire, could only prop himself up on his elbows and watch helpless and open mouthed as Buck moved. The hand not currently moving inside himself reaching out to grip against John's knee, shaky and flexing without thought.

John's eyes had darted over every inch of Gale's body, the way his back had been bowed backwards slightly to accommodate the angle at what he was doing to himself. The expression on his face screwed up in pleasure but also with a timid far away concentration that had him make eye contact with Bucky for a few fleeting moments before he closed them and colour had risen to his cheeks.

It was that nervousness John could pick up on there, the vulnerability that had Buck's body trembling from it as well as the sparks of pleasure he was feeding into himself, a small broken noise sounding in the back of the blond's throat, that had Bucky finally break out of the melting hold his mind was currently suffocating him with and reaching out for Buck.

Pulled him into his arms, into his lap with hushed whispers of "C'mere, oh my god, Come 'ere" until the other had been positioned perfectly in the envelope of his hold, still shaky and trembling and pressing his forehead against Bucky's with eyes squeezed shut, arms draped over John's wide shoulders loose and careful.

It was a fleeting moment when Buck finally opened up his eyes to connect with John's, wide and shy but that little hint of courage John found there had him lifting his hands and fixing themselves firmly over Buck's waist, swallowed up by the size of his fingers and palms like a puzzle piece slotting perfectly into place.

He had gently lifted him, feeling Buck straighten up onto his knees from where they were sat at either side of John's hips, never breaking eye contact as the other man reached back with one shaking arm.

Bucky could only let out a small exhale, just as shaky as the vulnerable cowboy in his arms against similarly parted lips when he felt Buck's fingers wrap delicately around the girth of him.

Could only mirror the sound Buck made against him with a gentle frown, eyes still glued to Buck's as the smaller man slowly positioned himself over the still leaking head of his cock and lowered himself, panting at the stretch.

The arm still around John's shoulders flexed, pulling their chests together tighter, a whine escaping from the back of his throat as he sank down those last few inches until he was fully seated in John's lap again, filled to the brim with him.

John had brought one of his arms around the lower half of Buck's back, just holding him there as a silent support, not game enough to move in fear of scaring Buck out of whatever had made him brave enough to pursue the feeling, of allowing John access to the most vulnerable side of him.

It was a rare occurrence that Buck ever truly opened himself up physically to John in the same way he had emotionally. Too stuck in his own past of never being allowed his own thoughts and free will, being taught by his father from the moment he could step up into a saddle that emotions were worthless, they clouded minds and made you weak and that giving up any kind of control, be it physical or mental, was something to feel shame for.

Something to lock away behind reinforced walls with a key that you should melt down into a useless pile.

It was something that Buck had come to expect a closed fist against his cheek or against his ribs for if he showed anything that could be named as vulnerable.

Bucky had felt a sense of awestruck wonder, staring at the man he was holding safely in his arms now, feeling the reach of what felt like forbidden pleasure coil low in his abdomen when Buck had slowly started to move.

Another sense of privilege mix in when he was subject to the primal sounds of slightly restrained rapture escaping between Buck's parted lips and whisper against his own.

In the aftermath of it all, when Buck had painted the space between them without so much as a brush of John's hand against his own neglected need and left it dripping down the planes of both their stomachs, had held him so tightly as he shuddered and trembled through his release in a strangled cry against John's throat, John had been helpless but to follow suit.

Had filled him deeply and reverently with every single ounce of raw emotion that had been coursing through him with his own low groan against a shivering tan shoulder.

Both ended up laying together, sweat dripping over warm skin and breathing harsh but satisfied, and John had gathered Gale back up into his arms to hold him through what he knew was probably an incredibly daunting and scary thought process.

Yet judging by the relaxed muscles he could feel underneath the tips of his fingers as he stroked them up and down Gale's arm in thought, the blond letting out a long winded sigh against his pectoral, he didn't feel as if the other was freaking out as much as he would have expected at having given himself over to being vulnerable and controlled.

He had felt a strong sense of pride at being something Gale would gladly give himself over to when his courage allowed it.

The quiet chuckle he had let become audible, as well as the comment that 'I didn't think Champion Rider extended over to me, too, Buck," had earned him a bony elbow to the ribs in reply, but also the feeling of a grin being pressed to his side.

Curt's hand slapping in to his chest from beside him brought Bucky's thoughts back to the present like a well aimed cattle prod, and he jerked slightly in his seat from where he was still looking over at Buck to face the smaller brunette questioningly.

Curt had a knowing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he nodded in the direction of where the new cowboys were still unloading their horses and gear. One of the tall ones, who John could only just make out had dark hair underneath an off-white cattleman hat, was walking in their direction.

Looking back to where Buck was still working Baby, John let out a high sharp whistle in his direction to get his attention, and the blond's head snapped up, alert and questioning.

John gestured with a wave of his hand out towards the line of new trailers and the newcomers, and saw the barely there nod Buck sent his way with a tip of his chin in acknowledgement before spinning Baby with practised ease and walking her up the length of the arena leisurely towards the gates.

When Bucky focused his attention back towards the approaching new cowboy, the man had stopped near Crosby just under the edge of the awning, hands coming up to rest on his hips and tipping his hat in greeting.

Piercing blue eyes scanned over the three of them, but not in a judgemental way, just in a gesture of taking them in, curious and friendly. He hazarded a glance around, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips in a nervous gesture underneath a neatly trimmed moustache.

"Gentlemen," he said brightly, small smile beaming. "Figure this is the right place. I'm Robert, Robert Rosenthal, but just Rosie's fine. I'm with the new bunch of ropers, Chick said you knew we were comin'?"

Crosby nodded at him, leaning forward in his chair to reach for Rosie's hand in a friendly greeting and introducing himself before Curt and John copied and did the same.

"Sure did," Crosby smiled, all typical cowboy friendliness turned up to a full ten. It was a move John knew well, watching the barely veiled curiosity and calculated observation in both Cros and Curt's body language, taking in the new guy and if he was as genuine as he was giving out in first impression. John couldn't help the small grin from tipping up one side of his lips. "Right on time, actually. Hope it wasn't too hard finding the place."

Rosie smiled even brighter at the welcoming air he was receiving, a small weight lifting off of his shoulders.

"Nah, just followed the signs. Was easy enough even after the GPS in the truck conked out on us halfway here."

Crosby chuckled at Rosie's words, the last of his demeanour softening, and in turn John felt his own reservations melt away about the man as he shifted further down in to his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie comfortably.

"Say," Rosie suddenly piped up, expression turning just that touch of sheepish around the edges. "Chick was saying when we got here I was meant to go see Gale Cleven? Said he'd know where to point us to get us settled?"

As if on queue, the distinct sound of a horse sidled up to Bucky's left, and he turned his head just in time to see the gold sheen of Baby's distinct coat come around the corner of the trailer, said Gale Cleven seated up on her like a king astride his steed.

The blond shot Bucky a quick fond little private smile from above, using his tongue to move the toothpick currently sitting between his lips from one side to the other before he looked up and focused in on Rosie. The classic friendly Cleven smile painted itself on his face in a matter of moments.

"Howdy," Buck drawled, tilting his chin in greeting and oozing with unintentional charm, and John snorted in amusement like he was witness to an inside joke. Gale leaned forward with an air of ease and leaned his elbows on the horn of his saddle. "You one of the new boys, I'm guessing?"

Rosie stared at Gale for a moment, eyes widening and jaw going slightly slack before he sputtered and collected himself with a shake of his head. He reached up and removed the hat from its perch above somehow perfectly styled near black hair and stepped up to Baby's shoulder, hand reaching out to shake Gale's hand.

John saw the telltale signs of worship and respect from a mile away, a slight tint rising to the new cowboy's cheeks as Gale reached down and gripped Rosie's hand in greeting.

He didn't know why something started niggling against his gut like an insect buzzing for the pure intent of irritation, but he swallowed it down, eyes flickering back and forth between Gale and Rosie like a hawk, a frown threatening to crease his brow.

It wasn't the first time another cowboy had been star struck by meeting one of the top ropers in the country, Gale Cleven. He was the golden child of the rodeo world and had a famous last name spanning back three generations to prove it. A downright western nepo-baby but with the talent and good nature to keep that good name going and do it justice instead of just relying on the name alone to garner the fame.

And with looks like that as well as the humble disposition and talent on top, Curt had quickly learned not to make bets with Bucky on how many buckle bunnies sidled up to Gale at each rodeo, all sickly sweet smiles and daisy-dukes paired with bedazzled cowgirl boots and low cut tops trying to tempt the rider into their beds.

Only to be shot down politely with a charming smile. Much to their disappointment. And Bucky's sharp, self satisfied dangerous grin that usually followed them from over Buck's shoulder as they turned away with dramatic pouted botox lips over said cowboy.

Rosie looked like he'd just met a damned God, expression bashful and eyes diverting every few seconds from Gale's gaze as he brought a hand up to nervously run through his hair before sitting his hat back atop his head.

"Yessir, Rosie Rosenthal. We just rolled in," he glanced back at the trailers in the direction he'd come from, Gale's eyes flickering to the same direction before focusing back on each other.

"Yeah I thought so. Chick mentioned you yesterday, said you guys were comin'. Hope the trip wasn't too hard on you and your boys."

Rosie scoffed dismissively but friendly. "Ah we did alright. Took a bit of-"

"Hooooly shit, you're Gale Cleven!"

All five cowboys looked up at the same time to see a kid no younger than 20 years old come jogging up from the direction of the new trailers, breathless and wide eyed. Bucky didn't think he'd ever seen a greener roper in his life, bright eyed and overly confident in his steps and the line of his shoulders.

He stepped up next to Rosie, who suddenly had an expression of fond exasperation, looking down at the ground with a slow shake of his head. Like a big brother tasked with having to look after a younger sibling and slightly embarrassed to be associated.

"When Rosie said we were gonna be riding with the Gale fuckin' Cleven, I honestly woulda believed him more if he said pigs fly," the kid smiled. "The name's Nash."

When he walked up to shake Gale's offered hand, the blond still smiling with the greeting charm turned all the way up to ten on the dial, Bucky couldn't stop the smile from breaking out onto his own face at the way Baby turned her head with an evil eye, ears pinned back slightly and teeth bared as she attempted to nip at the kid's shirt.

Gale didn't even react besides picking up the reins and secretly forcing her mouth in the opposite direction without anyone being the wiser or even noticing. She huffed out a sharp breath, nostrils flaring and shifting her back feet in disappointment.

Bucky had to bring his hand up, pretending to brush his fingers along the hair of his moustache to hide his amused smirk from the others.

"Nash from Nashville?" Curt leaned over and whispered behind his hand and Bucky nearly palmed his face away with a slap. He was barely hanging on to his composure by a thread from watching Baby.

That horse would be the death of him, right alongside the cowboy still perched up on her back. Gale had leisurely hooked his left leg up and across the pommel of the saddle in front of him, all the air of a calm and cocksure cowboy if there ever was one. And Bucky knew he didn't even do it on purpose. Didn't even have to try.

"Well, it's good to have you boys joining us. Needed some fresh new faces to join the ranks." Gale grinned, toothpick bobbing.

"Where you boys from, anyways?" Crosby piped up, asking as if Curt's offhanded joke had sparked some genuine curiosity.

Nash turns to Crosby, suddenly aware that there are, in fact, more people privvy to his starstruck excitement, and Bucky sees the moment the kid's eyes widen even further and wonders if maybe they should have brought Ken in for standby medical attention.

"Oh lord, you're Harry Crosby!" Eyes pan over to Curt, zipping between him and then to Bucky, mouth agape and sputtering. "The John Egan, and Curt Biddick!"

Curt leans over to Bucky, eyes watching the kid like he wasn't sure if he should be moving backwards in case he spontaneously combusted on the spot. "He knows who I am?"

Nash looks shocked at Curt's words, hand flying up to palm his forehead underneath the red flat cap he was wearing. "Oh man, of course I know who you are! I've seen those tiktoks of you backflipping over those bulls like it's nothin'!"

Curt gets a satisfied smile lighting up his face at Nash's enthusiasm, propping his left ankle up on his knee in an air of nonchalance but doesn't say anything further as Nash focuses in on Bucky.

"And you! Man, you're the reason I nearly changed my mind from ropin' to bull ridin'. My sisters love you!"

Bucky chuckles, suddenly gaining an air of fondness for the kid, like a little brother who can at once annoy the ever-loving hide off of you, but one you'd also show up at 2am for when they call drunk saying they needed your help. Has a feeling if the new ropers stick around and fit the bill that at some point he'd end up having to do just that.

"Texas," Rosie suddenly pipes up, answering Crosby's earlier question before Nash got them all side tracked. "Me and Nash are from Texas. Other boys are a mix of everywhere."

Gale nods in acknowledgement from his perch on Baby, demeanour still interested and warm. "Texas, huh? Heard it gets awful hot down there, can't say I've been too often, not during the warmer months anyways."

Rosie laughs, a hearty sound with still that hint of shaky nervousness, no doubt from having Buck's attention back on him. He rubs in a bashful gesture at the back of his neck, smile small but no less bright.

"Yeah she does get a little warm. Me and Nash did most of our first shows down there, did a few roping clinics as well in the beginning."

"One time we practised for twelve hours straight!" Nash piped up, bouncing on the balls of his feet, excitement still at the forefront. "Ended up stripped down to nothing but our underwear it got so damn hot, near fell off my horse at one point!"

Bucky looked between the two men, eyebrows climbing up towards his hairline. He didn't have to glance at Buck to know the blond wore a similar expression, calm facade broken for a few seconds.

"You boys… rode in your underwear?" Bucky slowly asked, a smile crawling onto his face as he pictured it with ease but also with a feeling of sympathetic discomfort. Saw Buck grimace from the corner of his eye, no doubt thinking on how uncomfortable that would have been on their privates, saddles digging in with the rough motions from the horse's movements.

Rosie had the sense to look embarrassed, cheeks heating up into a bright hue of red and eyes diverting from the boys for a moment or two as he chuckled nervously. They glanced up at Buck like he was about to be reprimanded by the horseman.

"Ahh, yes sir, that we did."

But Buck didn't have a cruel reprimanding bone in his body, not unless you were downright abusive to your horse or an idiot to the point you put yourself and your men or your horse in danger, and that amused smirk coloured the cowboy's expression once again as he watched Rosie with something akin to fascination.

It only served to bring light back to that uncomfortable coiling burn still perched in Bucky's stomach and chest, irritating to the point he had to bring a hand up and rub questioningly at his sternum with a confused frown. He could feel Curt's eyes currently searing a hole into the side of his head, but chose to ignore it.

"Can't say I envy you on that," Buck laughed, straightening up in the saddle with a stretch of his torso and a small groan, muscles probably aching from the morning warm up with Baby. "How about I come on over with you to meet the rest of your boys, make sure you lot get settled in okay and help out a little?"

Rosie looked lost on words, eyes raking over Buck quickly that John managed to catch easily, frown finally shaping his brow above sharp eyes and pursed lips.

"Yeah, yeah! Sure thing, we'd all be glad of it. I'm sure the other boys are busting their asses to meet you." Rosie stuttered, turning his body but his head still turned back to keep his focus on Buck.

Gale urged Baby forward with a nudge of his spurs and a barely audible click in his throat, the mare tossing her head as she was finally pushed in to moving. She walked along for a few steps before being pushed up further into a trot, going along happily as Buck directed her over towards the new trailers and the line of men now visible standing with their horses tied up against the sides of them.

Bucky watched as horse and rider got further and further away, the blond cowboy rising and falling in the saddle perfectly in time with Baby's gait like he was part of the horse himself, Rosie and Nash following behind at a more subdued pace.

Noticed Rosie watching Gale's form in the saddle as well as the other moved ahead of them.

John couldn't help the way he turned his head to Curt, the other man still watching him with no shame, icey blue eyes focused on him like an accusation, chin propped up in the palm of his hand. One eyebrow raised slowly as John looked at him, a smirk curving one side of his mouth.

"I ain't sayin' nothin'." Curt drawled slowly, never breaking his stare with Bucky.

John sighed and looked away, extracting his pack of cigarettes out from the pocket of his hoodie where he had his hands rested, pulling a single white stick out with his lips and teeth to light with a more aggressive than necessary flick of his wrist with the lighter.

"Nothin' to say, Curt."

After the new ropers had been officially settled in, horses finding a place and getting their programs from Chick at the office, the rest of the week was a long winded process of practices and warm ups from sunrise to sundown.

Along with Rosie and Nash, there were a total of two others out of six that had travelled in with them looking to recruit themselves in the the current circuit alongside the roping greats that were Gale Cleven and his team.

Each and every one with hopeful smiles and talent as quick-footed and sure as Chick could have ever hoped for. A lucky draw of a bunch, and with them came high hopes as well as pre-drawn contracts ready and waiting for after the rodeo set to play out at the end of the week.

Rosie's main crew consisted of the pre-mentioned Nash, the youngest out of the lot, still singing praises of each and every cowboy he met with a pep in his step and bright smile as he followed John or Curt or Crosby around like a new puppy at his master's heels.

The main header who Rosie said was a spitfire of a man with a roping hand as sticky as molasses was Winifred "Pappy" Lewis. A stout young fellow just as eager and fresh as the rest but with an air of maturity to him that had him quickly gain favor with Buck.

He took in every single thing that Gale told him and every pointer and piece of advice he got as if he was a sponge, and Bucky could tell that Gale had nothing but respect for the kid and knew he would go as far as he wanted if he put the effort in.

Pappy often had his best friend, another bright and intensely eager man who went by nothing other than Speas, which made Bucky smile with amusement at the information in a quaint understanding, noting that even Pappy would always and only refer to him as such.

It reminded him fondly of him and Buck and the nicknames that they often only teased each other for in the beginning when they first met before that mutual respect was earned.

As such, most of Gale's and Bucky's days were filled with either practice of warm ups leading up to the main rodeo event, leaving little one on one time between the two of them. But it was to be expected. And it wasn't something either men were new to, especially having brand new charges under Buck's wing that he was given full responsibility for, and the task of having them all ready for what was ahead.

In the few moments in between being behind the chutes and the rare scant moments of free time he had, Bucky would often perch himself up against the rails of the arena and just observe Buck and his new little team of amateurs with a fond smile.

The blond cowboy looked right at home out there, voice clear and authoritative as he ordered them around and through their paces, keeping an air of respect about him that kept that respect well received continuously amongst the newbies.

He never got angry, never lost his temper no matter how stupid Nash or Speas sometimes got when exhaustion started gripping them towards the day's end. And John knew that alongside Buck's more often than not kind and calm demeanour, it was also a conscious effort to keep the teaching mellow but firm, not violent and dismissive, not too strict, like his father.

Knew Buck recognised that being a friend as well as a mentor got the younger ropers further and more willing to listen to him and have that information stick, rather than hold them under an angry hand with a cuff around the back of the ear for not listening well enough.

He found gentleness and conscious effort and time was more productive in the long run, much like the training of a young horse.

You couldn't whip a young horse for making a step left instead of a right and expect the horse to know what it did wrong from the violence alone with little to no feedback. It didn't work like that.

It had Bucky's affection for the other cowboy continue to grow and grow until he felt like he would fall to knees under the weight of it.

Often having to find the strength not to slip through that arena fence and march right up to Buck, perched high on Baby and grab the other man and pull him down in to a crushing kiss every other moment. Often keeping that affection pent up until the two found a few seconds alone like they'd always done and slip between trailers to steal a kiss in privacy, or in the quiet moments in Buck's trailer they were all but lucky to have at that point in time.

Those moments seemed to get further and further in between though, with the amount of time training and practising took up for the rodeo lately.

And now with Buck having his new charges, Bucky often would enter Buck's trailer for the night to find the blond already dead to the world face down on the trailer's loft bed, face peaceful and once or twice only having managed to take off one boot before sleep took him under.

It was something Bucky didn't mind in the slightest, understood on a different level because they were in the same boat. And on those nights he'd quietly remove Buck's other boot and put his hat up on the hook by the trailer door before climbing into bed, careful not to disturb the other, before pulling the smaller man into his arms against his chest and letting himself drift off to sleep to the smell of Buck's hair and horses under his nose.

The only problem that had arisen, as well as that uncomfortable burning sensation against Bucky's chest from the day the new ropers pulled up, was that the quiet moments or scant few minutes Buck and him were able to achieve were getting less and less.

Especially when every waking moment that Buck had was filled with the other ropers and their attention, or Rosie. Who very quickly came to be who Buck started to fill most of his time with.

The new roper had all but become Buck's shadow, following the blond around either on foot or horse-back, that ever growing reverence and smitten expression intensifying with every word or look Buck offered him.

The man practically had hearts for pupils, and Bucky didn't know if Buck was stupid or ignorant, or just that damned innocently clueless that he didn't realise that Rosie had the biggest damn crush this side of the equator, but it was really starting to rub Bucky the wrong way.

It left a sour taste in his mouth, especially when he noticed more and more the answering soft smiles or laughs Buck would direct right back at Rosie.

That burning feeling deep in the core of him started eating away, until his heart started constricting in a valiant effort to protect itself from the flames, until his thoughts were swallowed with it every waking moment.

It only seemed to drive the flames further that very morning when for the first time in a while, Bucky had woken up to the realisation that Buck's side of the bed was empty, already cold from the amount of time that the blond had been vacant from it.

It had taken him a few groggy moments to blink the sleep away from his mind, frowning in confusion as to why he hadn't woken up to the smaller man being tucked into his side and waiting for him to wake before he started to get ready for the day.

He'd stumbled out of bed, yawning wide with a stretch and walking over to the small kitchenette to flick the kettle on, intent on making coffee, when the familiar sound of Buck's laugh had reached him from outside the trailer.

Bucky had walked over to the small trailer window that was faced towards the arena in the distance, and had managed to notice the two figures by the rails in the early morning light.

Buck was standing beside Baby, the mare fully tacked up with her head down managing to slip in a quick nap, his arms rested up on a higher rail, his posture relaxed and easy going. He had his back to the trailer, but John would be able to pick that cowboy out among a crowd of a million.

He would have also been able to pick out Rosie, who was standing on the other side of the fence, his own horse pawing lazily in the sand behind him in boredom as the two men talked in a low murmur into the early morning air.

Bucky watched in silence, breath catching in his throat as Rosie smiled, all timid but flirtatious, and reached out to put his hand on Buck's arm where it was leaned against the rail.

Buck laughed, face tilting down to stare at the dirt below, and didn't move his arm out from underneath Rosie's touch.

Bucky made himself look away, something horrid and hurtful squeezing his chest and throat.

He reached for the kettle which had started squealing at him as if it was mocking his misery.

The night before the rodeo, the usual tradition of beers and bonfire gets amped up in to full swing, a pre-rodeo celebration as well as a late welcome party for the new ropers before the big day.

The fire is bigger than just a measly fire pit this time, Curt and Ken having convinced Chick to call in to the owners of the current rodeo grounds and get permission to build a bigger bonfire in one of the designated spots on site.

It only takes a couple of hours to have the permission texted back, and even less time for the group as a whole to have built up a fairly decently sized bonfire that crackles and whooshes to life to the answering manic cackling of Curt like some mischievous gremlin in the echoes of it.

Brady and Hambone had gone into town in Brady's pickup to get the alcohol, and promptly returned soon after with enough cases of beer of several different brands, as well as a few bottles of stronger stuff that in whole could satiate an entire army and still have a fair portion left over in the morning.

By the time the sun has disappeared behind the distant hills, a familiar lull of some random country playlist murmuring behind the voices of the boys from a Bluetooth speaker, Bucky had already meandered his way past Brady and a few of the others to pluck two beers from the crate on the fold out table and flop himself into his usual camper chair.

He observes the others in a calm disinterested silence as he pops the top off his first beer and takes a heated and long pull from it, relishing in the sharp taste as the cooled liquid slips down his throat.

It settles on top of the burning pit that had become a permanent fixture in his abdomen, soaking it up and dampening it a small amount once the alcohol finally starts digging its fingers in.

In a good turn of events, the newer boys, Nash and Speas and Pappy had all but been accepted rightfully and instantly amongst the league of the others, all fanning off into their respective little circles to talk and make good atmosphere.

They melded in like they'd always been there, and it did make Bucky happy that Brady and Cros and all the other boys had ushered the others into those circles like long lost brothers.

Rosie had been accepted just as easily too, the man's good nature and kindness earning him the same back tenfold amongst the boys.

But as Bucky's gaze comes to rest on the man in question from across the fire, standing close with Buck, smile soft and direct as he lowers his head closer to Buck's ear to be heard over the roar of the fire and the music, Bucky can't help the possessive jealousy that instantly cuts into his very soul at the sight.

Feels even worse when Buck looks up at the other roper through his dark blond lashes with an answering soft smile, and tries to dampen the feeling again by taking another aggressive mouthful from the beer bottle in his hand.

He can feel the jealousy spark and rip up into him when Rosie obviously tells Buck something that has the blond throwing his head back in a laugh, Rosie's eyes trailing over the expanse of his throat, and Bucky toys with the idea of getting up and waltzing over there to plant one very giant possessive and territorial kiss onto the cowboy's mouth in a show of dominance.

Knows that he can't, though, just in case.

Knows that none of his boys would bat an eye at it. But he doesn't know the thoughts of the new boys, of Nash and Speas and Pappy, enough that he would risk him and Buck being shunned because the new men were the same type that would have crucified them where they stand and then proceed to slander his and Buck's names through the rodeo circuits like a disgusting curse, all because of bigoted religion.

The way that Rosie is currently staring at Buck though, all wide eyed and giddy and adoring, has Bucky half ready to do exactly what his invasive thoughts are screaming at him to do, let that festering possessive emotion culminate into acting on it.

He's just about to rise from his seat, thighs tensing when Curt's voice sounds from right beside him, close enough to his ear that it has the larger cowboy startle and nearly lose the the death grip of a hold that he has on his beer.

"The wind changes too quick and your face is gonna get stuck like that,"

Bucky whips his face around to the smug grin of Curt's right next to him, but the shorter man's eyes are currently looking over to where Buck and Rosie are still standing. Still talking close and soft.

Still ripping at Bucky's insides in a dangerous game.

Bucky lets a long winded sigh rush from his lungs, making his body settle back into the chair at the feeling of Curt's hand coming up to rest on his shoulder and squeeze from where he's bent over to talk to John.

He pats John's shoulder in a good natured gesture before taking the empty camp chair beside him, throwing himself into it with a grunt.

"Your boy's been making new friends, huh?"

John snorts, a cruel, sharp sound, and takes another sip from his beer. "Somethin' like that."

He's focused back on Rosie and Buck, surprised neither of them can feel the heat of John's stare, but he can see Curt glance at him from the corner of his eye. Can see the way the other observes him, running his eyes up and down John before sighing and clasping his hands together in contemplation.

"And.. how do you feel about it?"

John forces his eyes away for a moment, looks at Curt in a questioning way, before looking back across the fire. "He can do whatever he wants. 'm not his keeper."

Curt lets his head loll back in exasperation at John's words, disbelief as he looks up at the dark night sky above them before looking back down at Bucky.

"True. True, but, you are his man. His whole world, if you wanna put it bluntly I 'spose."

Bucky flicks his tongue out to lick his lips, the heat of the fire leaving them dry and uncomfortable. A complimenting feeling to the one in his chest.

"Seems his orbit has extended a bit," Bucky remarks, and isn't prepared for the feeling of Curt's hand cuffing him up the back of the head in a rapid strike.

His hat flies off and falls into his lap, and he can't help the affronted noise that makes its way out of his throat as he turns to Curt with wide, shocked eyes and a slack jaw.

Curt's staring him down with a look of disbelief and barely concealed annoyance, light blue eyes cutting through the very recesses of his soul and down to the bone. It makes Bucky want to shrink down into the collar of his coat, like frightened turtle hiding itself away from a predator.

"The fuck y' do that for!?" he yelps, rubbing at the back of his head tenderly at the still smarting impact that Curt made. It was more shock than anything, barely something resembling actual hurt, but he rubbed at it all the same.

Curt pointed his finger at him, jabbing in his direction, face still impossibly hard and serious. "I know you're a bull rider, but god, you can't actually be that dense."

Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but Curt shushes him, making him snap his jaw closed.

"That man over there thinks the goddamn world of you, John Egan. I've seen and heard things I wish I never did, but by god if there's one thing I do know, is that he only has eyes for you, no matter what your dumb mushed up brain is telling you. Or how much better Rosie's moustache is than yours,"

John looks at Curt with feigned hurt, an affronted scoff falling from his mouth but before he can retort, Curt cuts him off again with another well aimed jab of his finger, this time straight into Bucky's chest.

"I may have known you since highschool, Bucky, but I've known Gale a long fuckin' time too. Long before you showed up in our circuit. That man is the sweetest, most loyal soul in existence, and if you ever think that he'd give you up when he looks at you the way he does, I'll bury your body myself and leave a fuckin' note on his trailer door."

Bucky swallows, letting his eyes wander from Curt's back over to where Buck is standing with Rosie, still talking, and feels his heart stutter when Gale's eyes finally find him over the flames.

They lock on to him, and his expression and smile softens into something so adoring and beautiful that it steals John's breath right from his lungs.

He doesn't have the chance to smile back before Buck turns back to his conversation, Nash having joined him and Rosie, and John forces himself to look back at Curt again.

The other man is staring at him, no less intense, but there's something understanding there now too. He looks between Bucky's eyes, sitting back when he finds whatever he was looking for, and plucks Bucky's beer right from his hand to steal a swig.

John doesn't even try to protest, just glares un-bitingly in disapproval as he takes the beer back with a swipe when Curt offers it back.

"All I'm saying is, think for a minute or two for me, yeah? Before you go ripping Rosie to pieces over something that's not even there. You'd be surprised." Curt tells him softly, reaching out to Bucky's knee to pat it before hoisting himself up and starting to walk around the fire to where Ken is sitting with Douglas and Everett on the tailgate of Brady's pickup.

He watches as Ken's face lights up like the moon sitting high above them, letting Curt fit himself in between his legs dangling over the edge of the tailgate and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Curt's lips.

Everett wolf whistles in a quiet tone as Curt pulls Ken's arms around his waist with a smile, before Curt turns back around to Bucky, fixing him with a pointed look before bringing two fingers up and making the telltale 'I'm watching you' gesture between his own eyes and John's several times.

Bucky sees Ken look up to him too, a knowing smile aimed pointedly at him and Bucky feels like he's being judged over information he's not at all privvy to.

The rodeo the next day goes off without a hitch.

John absolutely decimates the lineup of bull riders with a near perfect score that has him throwing his hat off into the crowd with a well aimed toss as the announcer praises him name over the loudspeakers, just barely audible above the sound of the crowd and their exuberance.

He even landed on his feet this time, granted wobbling just that tiny bit and nearly face planting in to the sand as Curt rushed past him in his rodeo clown get-up to distract the bull, before he managed to catch his balance and sprint up to the chutes and leap his way out of the bull's raging war-path.

He had felt the heat of the bull's breath over the denim on his thigh as it had brushed past him, but it only kept that adrenaline rushing through every vein in his body, ramping it up to that next level as he'd been grinning like mad man, laughing at the rush.

After he'd calmed down and made his way into the alleys behind the chutes to get a better view of the arena, sweat damp hair falling into his eyes, he'd waited patiently while the officials had raked over the arena with the tractor for the ropers.

Felt the rapid thundering of his heart in his chest speed back up in anticipation of watching Buck take his run, only giving the thought of him partnering with Rosie as his heeler a momentary allowance before the speakers crackled back to life and the crowd started filtering back into the stands after a brief intermission.

Speas and Pappy went first, nailing their run and managing to heal and head the steer in almost perfect form, the two men smiling wide and giving each other high fives from where they were seated up on their horses as they rode past and then back into the alley to make way for the next pair.

It was a waiting game for Bucky, three more pairs of riders having their goes before finally he spotted Buck trotting a very eager Baby up to the starting pen.

The mare was bobbing up and down in excitement under him, nostrils flaring and tail swishing while Buck checked his rope, one set held between his teeth as he coiled the excess into perfect loops in one hand, giving no mind to Baby's barely contained energy.

Bucky couldn't help the smile from spreading across his face, bringing one boot up to rest on the bottom rail as Buck and Rosie finally squared up into their positions.

He kept his eyes resolutely on Buck, seeing the moment he glanced down at the cowboy manning the steer chute and giving that telltale nod.

And then they were off.

It barely felt like a blink in time as John watched, seeing the two riders move perfectly in sync as they took off after the steer, hot on its heels and lassos twirling with practised ease.

Buck had cast his out into a perfectly aimed arc and roped the steer's horns in a matter of seconds, shortly followed by Rosie capturing its heels and then it was a quick flurry of the two pulling their respective horses into the normal halt.

The horses knowing exactly what they were supposed to do and making everything look so easy Bucky wondered if they could have done the maneuvers without their riders, just memory alone.

John was expecting it, knowing that the fluid movements both Rosie and Buck had worked were the picture perfect dream team, but even as the scores were tallied up at the end of the event, he couldn't help the way his heart raced at hearing Buck's name spoken out in victory, letting out a loud celebratory whistle in the blond cowboy's celebration.

Seeing the way the other man had looked up into the crowd, taking in the fact that they were cheering for him and Rosie and the wide, bright smile that had lit up his face in turn lit up Bucky's entire soul, and he couldn't help mirroring it.

But he also couldn't help the way that the sinking feeling returned to his stomach when he watched Buck and Rosie ride up to each other, clasping hands and pulling each other in to a quick one armed hug, smiles beaming.

So when all was said and done, he turned his eyes away and decided to make his way back to Buck's trailer to strip off his gear and start to settle himself down in the adrenalised aftermath.

He resolutely ignored the tight restricting feeling crawling its way up his throat.

He had only been in Buck's trailer for a matter of minutes, hands fumbling with the straps of his protective vest in anticipation of stripping himself of the heavy material, when the trailer door had slammed shut behind him and startled him in to turning around.

Buck was standing there, but was very pointedly staring at the trailer floor, hands on his hips over the leather of his chaps and taking a long, deep breath out from his nostrils, face blank and unreadable.

Bucky took a small step back when he felt the sudden tense air fill the small space of the trailer, taking in the hard and trembling line of Buck's shoulders, heaving slightly with what John could only discern as barely concealed rage.

He didn't dare speak, just standing there with his fingers still paused in the movement of undoing his vest straps, and watched the way Buck's eyes still wouldn't meet his, the steely blue gaze hard and unflinching but flickering back and forth with silent thoughts.

Both cowboys stood there for what felt like an age, neither daring to move lest the other lash out like a snake at any sudden move, and Bucky could feel his heart sink lower and lower the longer Buck kept silent, dread crawling up his throat and into his mouth in a sickening wave.

When that feeling felt like it was about to bubble out of him like an overflowing shaken up coke bottle, he parted his mouth, trying to get some type of sound or word out, but snapped his jaw shut again when Buck whipped his head up to stare straight at him.

It felt like those blue eyes were boring holes into his very soul, stormy and enraged and something else that Bucky couldn't quite discern and didn't necessarily want to.

He kept himself still, not wanting Buck to unleash whatever was building there inside his head, just stared right back, wanting but not able to break their stares for fear of what would happen if he did.

So when Buck finally moved, making a beeline straight for him, eyes still sharp and unreadable, Bucky found himself taking another small step back, steeling himself as Buck got closer and closer until he got so close that Bucky felt himself swallow in a suddenly dry throat, ready for the rage of Buck's words to finally pour out.

He took a small breath, not afraid of Buck but afraid of how truthful Buck's words would be, but instead found himself making a small sound of surprise as two hands came up to grab the sides of his face and drag him downwards into a fierce bruising kiss against the other man's lips.

It only took him a few scant moments before he let the tension ooze out of his body and melt into the other, allowing his eyes to close as Buck kissed him harshly, digging his thumbs into the sides of Bucky's jaw until he parted his lips properly and was rewarded with Buck's tongue invading his mouth with an energy he was struggling to compete with.

He risked moving his own hands, abandoning the straps he didn't realise he was still holding on to and fit them perfectly against the curve of Gale's ass, squeezing against the denim and soft leather of the chaps and pulling the smaller man's hips against his own.

Bucky couldn't help the disappointed groan he let slip when Gale pulled his lips away from his, breath panting hot and rapid over his lips in a staticky wild energy, both men's eyes still squeezed shut at the onslaught of emotion suddenly coursing through them.

He felt Buck's fingers shift back from his jaw to grip harshly at the longer curls at the back of his head, pulling until a sharp pain made him groan again against Gale's lips.

"You're such a fuckin' idiot, John Egan."

John felt his eyes fly open, a confused frown pulling at his brow as he finally looked at Buck, who was staring at him with that same stormy anger he had seen when the other man had entered the trailer.

He let his gaze scan over Gale's features, sitting on the kiss swollen redness of his lips before making eye contact again.

"What?"

Buck sighed, sharp and irritated and tugged at John's hair again that had Bucky hissing through his teeth as Buck knocked their foreheads together harshly.

"I said, that you're an idiot, and I can't believe you thought for even a second that I would ever think of replacing you, or be jealous of Rosie, for Christ's sake."

John gaped at Buck's words, feeling hot shame and embarrassment coil into his stomach, and had no doubt that his face was turning a bright shade of red as he cringed.

He looked away from Buck's eyes for a few seconds, trying to wrangle that shame under control before he looked back at him. He could feel the way his face melted into something sad and shameful, and he couldn't control it.

"Buck, I-"

"Shutup, and listen to me for a second. When I told you, all those weeks ago that you had made your home in my heart, I damn well meant it. And I don't know about you, but I mean what I say."

The shame increased for a few moments before something that felt suspiciously like relief started to chase it away, a new sensation building as he stared at Buck.

He took in the raw emotion that was growing in the blond's expression, the way his lips trembled slightly and the crease between his brows, a bead of sweat trailing from his hair and down the side of his face.

He couldn't help but think Buck was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, a thought that often overtook every waking moment.

"Rosie is not interested in me like that, John. And I can tell you that with complete honesty, right now. He respects me, is starstruck by me, has looked up to my dad and now me since he was a kid. There is nothing there besides respect and adoration for my riding and my name."

John swallows heavily, the shame now disappearing completely, and he suddenly thinks that he would really, really like to kiss the man standing in front of him again. "But I-"

Buck brings one hand around to grip Bucky's jaw in between his fingers giving him a gentle shake to quiet him again.

"Besides," Buck murmurs suddenly, a small grin crawling its way on to his lips, and Bucky watches the motion with reverence before returning his hold on Buck's eyes, which have gone softer in their intensity. "He likes Crosby."

Bucky feels his brain short circuit, like someone has cut the wires again, leaving him in a state of sudden confusion and shock like Buck had just slapped him with the hand still holding his jaw.

The sudden images of small secretive smiles, of giddy looks and signs that he had resolutely ignored, had pushed down into the back of his mind like unimportant information because all he had been focused on was Buck and Rosie, suddenly made him feel, indeed, very stupid.

He frowned at Buck, mouth opening and closing a few times as Buck watched all the pieces click into place in his mind with a self satisfied smirk on the blond's lips.

"Crosby!? Wh- How the hell do you know that?"

Buck laughed, low and quiet, and let his grip on John's jaw loosen slightly, thumb stroking over the sharp angle of it.

"Curt." He said simply.

Bucky sputtered, still trying to process the onslaught of information that he had suddenly been made aware of in such a short amount of time, and his head started to ache.

"How the hell does Curt know that?" John questioned. He brought his hands that were still sitting against the curve of Buck's ass up to rest comfortingly against the shape of his waist in a comforting hold. Buck rolled his eyes, his smirk only growing. "Curt knows everything, you should know this. He's also the reason I found out you were being a jealous idiot for the past week."

Bucky cleared his throat at Buck's words, averting his eyes in embarrassment and cursing under his breath, but was quickly pulled back by Buck's hand so he was face to face with the other man once again.

He was also face to face with Buck's sudden look of complete fond adoration, eyes partially lidded and staring over the contours of his face, eyes scanning every inch of it like he was seeing the stars for the first time.

He felt the continuous movement of Buck's thumb running against the skin of his jaw, the barely there whisper of movement that sent a shiver straight up his spine in an electric over load from being the sudden subject of Buck's soft attention.

"Told you you should'a worn a helmet. Your brain's startin' to turn to mush," Buck smiled up at him, amusement plain on his beautiful face and Bucky felt himself mirror it with a raised brow.

"Oh ha ha, Cleven's got jokes," he purred, slowly lowering his face down to Buck's until he pressed his lips gently against Gale's, feeling the ghost of his smart-ass smile melt away into John's ministrations.

He flexed his fingers against Buck's waist and the other leaned into the kiss perfectly, hand that had been gripping John's jaw finally releasing its hold and running down the column of his throat, fingers caressing in a barely there touch that had Bucky groaning into him.

The sound of familiar muffled voices outside the trailer suddenly had Bucky snapping his eyes open with realisation, pulling away from Buck's mouth suddenly as he leaned over to the window, reaching out with one arm.

Buck made a disappointed sound where he was still held carefully with John's other arm as the bull rider flicked the glass of the window open, face leaning closer to the opening as he shouted out into the open campground.

"You're a fuckin' traitor, Biddick! A big fat goddamn traitor!"

Curt's barked out laughter reached them from a short distance away, a half cut off 'You're welcome!' shouted back in answer as Bucky slammed the sliding glass shut and cut the world out again, leaving him and Buck standing in the ensuing silence.

Turning his attention back to Buck with a soft smile, he noticed the blond cowboy's eyes had dropped from his face down to the expanse of his chest, and he followed his gaze down to where Buck was suddenly fiddling absentmindedly with the still half-done straps of his vest.

Buck cut his eyes up to his again, smile spreading across his face, all sweetness and barely concealed mischief held behind the blue, and Bucky felt his cock stir unhelpfully against the harsh denim seam of his jeans.

With slow practiced ease, Buck lent up, by-passing Bucky's lips completely and instead brushed his lips against the shell of John's ear, making the taller man shiver and tighten his hold back on the waist between his fingers.

"Get this off, and get your ass up on that bed, now," Buck purred, low and so dangerously rumbled that it had Bucky huffing out a breath of surprise as Buck suddenly moved back and pushed a hand against his chest, making him stumble back a few steps.

He watched Buck with wide eyes as the other started fumbling with the buckles holding his roping chaps around his hips, eyes never leaving John's and Bucky felt his brain suddenly kick back in to gear, heart pounding in excitement.

He turned away from Buck for a few moments to hoist himself up onto the mattress of the bed in the loft, almost tripping in his haste and hands flying down to rip the straps of his vest open.

"Sir, yes sir, King Cleven," he teased, letting out a breathless 'oof' as he turned around to recieve a boot straight to the center of his chest, grabbing it before it fell to the floor with a laugh of surprise and then a yelp as a body quickly followed.

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