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#thank you cormack mccarthy <33
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the story (i was made for you)
Summary: On the Texas Plains, Cody and Ben meet. And they fall in love.
Tags: Cody/Obi-wan, Cody is a good bro, Cowboy AU, western, no major warnings
Word Count: 4k
~*~
The Texas plains are less quiet at night than people think they are. The insistent rustle of grass in the wind, the faraway howling of some nocturnal animal, the low buzz of insects, all these sounds fill the silence, a symphony of their own. When he first moved here, it was unnerving, how alive things always seemed. He was used to the city noise, the radio-static stoplights, and the constant hum of his brothers talking into the late hours.
Now, though, he’s used to it- he can’t sleep without it. Things are too still when it’s quiet, and the world seems to be passing him by while he stays stuck in the same place. He’ll never get used to the missing chaos of his family, but he figures that’s a part of being homesick.
That’s not something you ever get over, he thinks. No matter where he is, he’ll miss the soft-spoken, hard-truth complaints from Fox and the constant steadiness of Waxer beside him.
He has things to keep him company, though, when Rex isn’t here. First and foremost, he has Sunny, his brown and cream splattered paint, tied to a tree a few feet away. She’s his lone companion, most days, and she’s not too bad company. She can be temperamental and standoffish, but so can he. The fire going out, the wind howling in his ears, the coffee burning. Mundane observations that take the forefront of his mind without his permission.
Cody isn’t sure when Rex is going to be back; the town can be busy at this time of night. Or, at least, as busy as it gets. Usually, Cody wouldn’t mind going into town with Rex, but, like always, Rex seemed to know when Cody needs time to himself.
As the night grows more alive, Cody does too. He’s never been good at going to sleep or staying asleep for that matter.
He can’t see far into the distance, but he hears the sound of Rex approaching.
“Hey, bud,” Cody greets.
“You’re still awake? I thought you would at least be pretending to sleep by now.” Rex swings out of the saddle and his boots crunch on top of the dry soil. “And don’t say that weird shit about the night being alive.”
Cody chides, “Language,” and gets up to help with the unpacking. He doesn’t deny the accusation. “Did you get the-”
“I got everything you asked for, don’t worry. When have I ever let you down?” Cody doesn’t answer the question and focuses on sorting through the various cans of beans, fresh tortillas, and dried meats.
“You forgot chewing gum,” Cody mentions, after he’s done looking through the bag. “You’re going to bite your nails bloody, bud.”
“I didn’t forget, I already have it in my pocket.” Rex’s tone is off-hand as he tosses the gum to Cody. “Take a piece and give it back.”
The pink wrapper flashes in the light of Rex’s lamp. “This is bubblegum,” Cody says stupidly. “You hate bubblegum.”
“Yep.” Again, the off-hand tone. “I got the kind I liked last time. It was your turn.” Rex sets his palate down on the hard ground next to Cody, his green pillow almost brown at this point. He lays down on his back, his hat covering his eyes.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Cody protests. “You chew it more than I do.”
“I wanted to,” is all Rex says before he turns on his side and falls asleep. Cody knows he asked for this, knows that his own distance is the reason that Rex is acting the way he is, but it hurts nonetheless.
It’s hypocritical, the way Cody allows these things to hurt him. Rex is the only person he really has left anymore. He can’t let the little things wear him down, not when he has to be a model for Rex, not that he’s been a good role model all this time. But he knows what it means to look up to someone, knows the weight that it should carry on both ends.
He needs to live up to the legacy that Rex has built in his head.
But all anything seems to do out here is curl up and die.
~*~
The altruistic sun burns above him, giving its life for forms that it doesn’t know to exist. The waves of heat that distort the horizon cast a dreamlike state over the plains, brown trees and limitless yellow grass in every direction.
At first, he almost doesn’t see it. Shadows, however uncommon, blend in with the hazy land as if they were painted on with the barest brushstroke. But movement is undeniably present, and Cody knows what to look for. He knows what a person riding up on a horse looks like, and he knows it doesn’t always mean good news.
“Hold up,” he calls to Rex, putting his arm up in case he doesn’t hear. “There’s someone out there.”
“Really?” There’s excitement in Rex’s voice, an uncommon opportunity. Cody hates to be the person to always On the horizon, the man steps off his horse, patting it on the side before stopping to look at Cody. It seems as if he’s psyching himself up before he starts the long walk closer to them. It’s not an easy walk, but Cody figures that he’s trying to appear peaceful. As if anyone can really be peaceful out here.
He gets closer and Cody can make out more details. His reddish-brown hair glints in the sunlight almost like the sunlight itself, and even Cody with his eyesight can see the freckles that dot his nose. And his eyes, oh, his eyes. They’re the color of the ocean, with just as much depth. They’re cunning and smart, with laugh lines and stories to tell. He’s close enough now so that Cody can feel himself start to get nervous. It’s unavoidable, when there are so few people he’s used to seeing.
“Bud, get the horse.” Cody doesn’t look at Rex when he speaks, but he doesn’t need to. There’s no one else he would speak so gently to. No one else to speak to in general, besides the approaching figure.
“I want to stay here with you,” Rex argues, fiddling with the brim of his hat. “You can trust me.”
“I know I can,” Cody sighs. If only it were as easy as trust. “Get the horse. Now.”
“No.” The set of Rex’s shoulders is firm, set against the ever-dying orange sun.
“Do it,” Cody says, with eyes that cut like his voice does. Rex was raised to know when to listen and when to shut up. With a flash of his eyes, he turns on his heel and walks away, kicking up dust. The horses aren’t far away- he can hear them huffing against the dry air from where they're tied to a low wooden fence.
Finally, the man is close enough for his voice to carry. It’s gentler than it should be, in a place like this. “I’m Ben,” the man introduces in a soft, lilting accent. It doesn’t belong here. It belongs to those period dramas Cody’s mom used to watch with him and his brothers when they were sick. He always pretended not to like them, but he misses their inconsequential romance plots and pretty words.
“Who are they?” Cody asks bluntly, pointing to the two figures in the distance. “They’re with you?”
“Those are my kids, Anakin and Ahsoka.” Ben doesn’t wave them forward, but he doesn’t tell them to turn away either. “We’re just passing through, if you don’t mind.”
Cody shrugs. “It’s not my land.” He whistles sharply two notes in succession, signaling for Rex to bring the horses over. If they need to outrun these strangers, Cody’s sure that they’ll be faster. Ben nods and waves Anakin and Ahsoka forward. Warily, they make their way toward them. As they get closer, a sinking feeling settles low in Cody’s stomach. Anakin looks like he’s no more than 17, and Ahsoka looks younger. They’re both bone skinny, wearing clothes that don’t fit correctly.
Ahsoka dons a ratty blue coat that’s belted at the waist, roughly hewn, knife-cut notches visible from her. What seems to be a blue and orange ribbon is interwoven with her thick braids, faded from whatever past glory it faced. Her dark skin is dotted with lighter patches on her cheeks and forehead, and some memory helpfully supplies Vitiligo to Cody.
Anakin doesn’t look much better. His dark blue jean button-up fits better than Ahsoka’s, but it’s definitely seen better days. His jeans have holes in the knees and along the stitches, and his hat looks like it’s being held together by the piece of leather wrapped around it. The hollows of his cheeks are more pronounced than they should be, and his hair is matted with sweat along his neck.
Ahsoka steps down off her horse and sticks out a gloved hand to shake. “I’m Ahsoka, and this is Morai.” She points to her horse, a white mare with big, green eyes. It blinks slowly at him, indifferent to Ahsoka’s introduction.
Without waiting for Cody’s name, Anakin speaks up, staying on his horse. “I’m Anakin. This is Artoo.” Anakin’s horse, a gray quarter horse, shakes its mane and huffs, calming at Anakin’s touch.
Rex approaches Cody surely, not giving away if he’s as on edge as Cody is about the newcomers. He looks at Cody, who gives nothing away. Or, at least, he’s trying to give nothing away. Cody might not have the best poker face, but he knows for a fact that it’s better than these strangers, all brimming with excitement and curiosity. With a roll of his eyes, Rex sticks his hand out for Ben to shake and introduces himself. “I’m Rex, and that’s my brother Cody. He’s not as mean as he looks.”
“He doesn’t look mean,” Ben smiles, squinting against the sun and looking at Cody. “He’s simply cautious, as he should be.”
Cody has the strangest urge to thank Ben. He settles for asking, in the politest tone he can muster, “Are you new around here?”
“I’m not, but Ahsoka and Anakin are. I’ve been showing them the ropes, so to speak. Is it that obvious that we don’t know what we’re doing?” Ben, surprisingly, doesn’t have any trace of embarrassment in his voice, as so many would.
“Not at all,” Cody assures. He doesn’t say anything about how Ahsoka is riding too stiff and Anakin is too far back for such flat terrain. “You look like pros.”
“Really?” Ahsoka beams, her smile wider than the sun. Ben sends an appreciative look at Cody before turning to her and giving her a thumbs up.
“Sure you do, kid,” Rex chimes in. “You’re a real Butch Cassidy.”
“She doesn’t know who that is,” Anakin laughs, flipping Ahsoka off, to Ben’s apparent dismay. “Sorry, Ben.” Anakin doesn’t sound sorry at all.
“I don’t have to know who it is to know they’re a badass,” counters Ahsoka. She turns to Rex with a fierceness behind her gaze that Cody knows from his brothers. He can tell that Ahsoka and Anakin are fighters. They have the strong Fett set in their jaw and the determination in their eyes that Cody doesn’t see reflected in Ben. Mainly, Ben seems kind, but they had to learn it from someone. “Right?”
“Exactly,” Rex agrees. He spares a quick glance at Cody before guiding his horse closer to them. “Where are you on your way to? Most people don’t just wander along these parts.”
Ben starts to answer, but he’s cut off by Anakin’s louder voice. “Ben was going to take us to Mos Eisley.”
“The gambling town?” Cody asks skeptically. He didn’t take the three of them for the type of people to frequent places like Mos Eisley.
“No,” Ben corrects with a smile. “Just outside of there. I know a few people who live out there, and I thought it would be a good getaway for a while.”
Whatever Cody is going to say next is interrupted by the clapping of thunder, loud and rolling. All at once, the atmosphere has changed. It’s charged with wind and the smell before rain.
And electricity. He can feel it, the static creeping along his neck, making his skin stand on edge. Maybe it’s superstition, but he knows that they need to get out of here; this isn’t a thunderstorm that they can sit through underneath a tree. He can feel the air charge up to strike- lightning lighting up the sky.
“What was that?” Ahsoka asks, cocking her head to the side.
“We need to get out of the clear,” Rex explains. “It’s too dangerous to be out here in weather like this.” Cody notices how he doesn’t add that usually, they could outride it. Anakin and Ahsoka don’t seem like they could do that.
“We should find shelter,” Cody agrees. Him and Rex have seen lots of these kinds of storms, but even they know not to underestimate the danger. That’s how you end
“Where do we go?” Ben asks, looking at Cody for answers. It’s not the way his brothers look at him, though. With a raised brow, Ben isn’t asking for Cody to fix everything, he’s asking for an opinion, a solution.
Cody should tell Bell that most of the time in storms like this, it’s easiest to ride them out. Kick everything into high gear and outrun the weather. It’s not the most effective solution, and it definitely doesn’t always work, but it sure does free him. There’s nothing that makes him feel more powerful than leaving things behind him.
But he just doesn’t have the heart to say that and watch Ben’s crestfallen face. “I know a place that isn’t far,” he says; Cody can tell by the way the red clay road leads that they’re close.
Side by side, a party of five, they ride towards the sun and stop miles later at a blue-painted, white-shuttered house. There’s a key underneath the doormat, faded silver and hard to fit into the lock.
It was his grandmother’s house. The white lace doilies on the wall and the obnoxious pink curtains weren’t really his mother’s style. She always hated this house, but Rusty had a strange fascination with it when he was young. It transported him to a time when his parents didn’t exist, where the rivers and grass ran wild, undisturbed and undiscovered.
A layer of dust covers everything, the air thick with memories left untouched for years. He hasn’t been here since his grandmother's funeral, where his mother complained about getting the house in the will and his father was kind enough not to show up.
“What is this place?” Ahsoka asks, running a hand along the crooked oak banister.
“A tomb,” Cody answers, looking at the pictures on the walls. His parents, smiling at their wedding, looking young and free and happy. Him, in a white dress shirt one holiday, grinning with a missing tooth, his grandmother hugging him from behind, grace and beauty in her older age. A family picture of his extended family, looking like a Christmas card in their matching colors. After him, his parents never took any of their kids here. Fox and Cody are the only ones who even know this place exists. No one else got the warm hugs or the hot chocolate; they lived a childhood without any family besides their siblings, not that any of them ever complained that they weren’t enough of them.
The kids race off to explore, happy to have a roof over their heads and promised security for the night. The various rooms with their antique decorations and faded patterns supply ample imaginative space for them.
Cody wanders his way to the kitchen, Ben following behind him quietly. It’s just like the rest of the house, dust particles dancing in the air, mason jars full of preserves lining the shelves. Not knowing what to do with his hands, Cody goes to the sink and turns on. For a moment, the water runs a rusty brown color, but it clears out after a while. The taste of that clear, spring water fills Cody’s senses as he remembers all the times that his grandmother filled him a glass from the same faucet after he played out in the yard for hours.
“Is it hard being back here?” Ben asks kindly, standing beside him at the sink. Cody doesn’t have to ask him how he knows that this place is important to him. In fact, he’s almost positive that Ben has a similar place like this somewhere out there, gathering dust. “ I can imagine the memories it must bring back.”
“It’s too different to remind me of when she was alive,” Cody deflects. The truth, that he can’t stop looking around corners for a weathered face and long braids, hurts too much to admit. “Being at my parent’s house would be harder.” He’s not sure why he offers that piece of information; he hardly ever talks about home, especially about missing home.
“I’m sure. It must have been hard to leave your family.” Ben’s consoling voice digs deep into Cody, some part of him that remains unscratched by his regrets.
“Sometimes the need to escape outweighs the need to stay,” Cody responds, a bite in his tone. “I left because I had to.”
“Of course,” Ben agrees with a knowing smile. “Home can only stay such for so long. You couldn’t possibly know how well I know that.” Cody doesn’t have anything to say in response to that, so he keeps washing the dirt from underneath his fingernails and staring out the window. It’s easier to look out at the landscape than Ben’s eyes, although he would rather stare into the lovely blue of eyes.
Ben breaks the silence, bumping his shoulder with Cody’s before offering his own confession.“I found Anakin behind metal jail cell bars a year ago, wasting away with every call for lights out. I saw something of myself in him, and my mentor implored me to reach out, to be a provider for a messed up kid.” Anakin, Cody thinks, has more behind him than most people do. The set in his jaw, the reflected haunted look in his eye, they’re too old for his young frame.
“Your mentor sounds like a good person,” Cody responds, trying to get more information but not be rude about it. It’s hard to stop himself, though, when all he wants to do is know more about Ben.
There’s conflict on Ben’s face, but it settles with a sad smile. “He was a kind man, and he cared deeply for me, that I don’t doubt. But he was frustrating at times, which I still feel bad about saying since he passed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cody says. “How long ago did he pass?” Cody just wants to know more, at this point. Ben’s voice, his past, Cody wants it all in the most unfair way possible.
“5 years ago. It feels longer, though. I mean, as soon as it happened I was the one taking care of Anakin, and I had absolutely no idea how to. That dulled the pain for a long time.” Hesitantly, Ben continues, looking down at his own hands. “I don’t think that I was the best person for Anakin then. It’s hard to be sure that I am now.”
Cody, despite his best efforts, lets out a huff and looks at Ben. “I may not be the best judge of parents, but I see the way that Anakin looks up to you. From what I can tell, you’re his sun and moon.”
“Oh,” Ben grins, trying to hide his pleased look. “That’s nothing to how Rex follows you. I didn’t have any siblings, but I know that you’re quite the older brother for him.”
“I try,” Cody responds. He turns the water off and dries his hands on the old towel still hanging next to the soap. “I couldn’t leave him at home.”
“That bad?” Ben asks, but there’s no judgment in his tone. Cody wonders if there ever is. Probably not, based on the way Ben seems to know what it’s like to not have a home you want to go back to.
“Yeah, that bad.” Cody loves his family. His mother’s strong voice and his father’s strength that held them up for so long are ingrained inside of him stronger than anything else. But there was only so long he could stay there, in that tiny house filled with people who always had so many expectations. He was taught at a young age how to survive, how to ride a horse fast and hard if he was ever in trouble, how to tie knots that won’t break, and how to avoid having emotions get in the way. Those lessons make up who he is today, but they’re also the reason he can’t seem to hold on to anything.
Rex doesn’t count. He’s always been by Cody’s side, even in the hardest times. It’s why he could never have left Rex like he left the rest of them.
There’s a lull in the conversation where Cody sneaks glances at Ben from the corner of his eyes, trying to be at least a little conspicuous.
Cody’s not one to be poetic. He prefers the quiet, easy moments with his family instead, where he doesn’t have to say anything and everyone is on the same page. But Ben makes him want to try to be romantic, to try to say something special that encompasses all of the wonderful, overwhelming things about Ben.
Cody also can’t help but notice the cut of Ben’s jaw, the grey of his eyes, the reddish-gold in his hair, they’re all softer in this light. Ben looks younger now than he does under the harsh sunshine, the lines of his face relaxed, the squint of his eyes less pronounced. But his smile stays the same, warm and inviting.
The storm outside flashes and rolls, the wind whipping against the shutters and whistling through the cracks in the wood, but it’s safe here with Ben. The ghosts have died down to a whisper and Cody, for a moment, lets himself relax into the peace.
He takes a deep breath and hears the kids laughing upstairs somewhere. It’s the first time he’s heard Rex laugh like that in a long time. He’s missed that sound.
“We can take you to Mos Eisley,” Cody says after a while. He keeps his voice quiet, trying to emulate Ben’s tone as best he can. He doesn’t know why or how, but he wants to let Ben see that he can be more than a rough hand or a decent older brother.
“Really?” Ben asks, tilting his head to the side. It doesn’t look like he actually believes Cody, which Cody can’t blame him for. It came out of nowhere.
Cody tries to backtrack and make it make sense, although he’s not sure how much he can salvage at this point. “I’ve been meaning to take Rex that way for a while, and with the number of kids we have with us, it might be best to stay together for a while. Not to say that you can’t take care of-”
“Cody,” Ben interrupts, grinning. If Cody was going to try and say anything more, that stops him in his tracks. Ben should smile more, Cody thinks. It suits him much more than the vaguely worried expression that he frequents. “If you really mean that-”
“I do,” Cody assures him, reaching out to clasp Ben’s shoulder. It’s awkward and it lasts too long, but Ben doesn’t seem to mind.
“Then I would be thrilled to accompany you. I know Ahsoka and Anakin would love to talk to someone else besides me, and it would be nice to be in the company of someone so generous.” Cody’s never considered himself a generous person, but if Ben says he is then maybe it’s true.
His courage briefly ignited, Cody holds out his hand for Ben to take as he asks another question, meeting Ben’s eyes with his own. “Would you then also care to join me for dinner? I can see what we can find here. The house should still have a standing table somewhere.”
Ben’s smile grows, meeting his eyes and sending butterflies flying through Cody’s fingertips. “I would love to.”
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