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The weather was getting colder the further up the mountain they got, and Lewis being as sensitive to the cold as he is, had put his heavy flannel and jacket on when they had last stopped. Dick, on the other hand, was perfectly warm in his lighter work jacket and the slightly ruined flannel shirt that had become an outdoor staple over the course of their trips- partly because of the cold, but mostly because of how much Lewis loved to wear it when he woke up in the warmth of their tent.
“We should stop soon it’s going to get dark in about an hour.” He calls from behind Dick, spending more time watching the man in front of him sway on his horse, then watching the heard of sheep they were corralling, “and I’m cold.” Dick chuckles at that, shaking his head and reaching into the side pack on his saddle, digging around for a moment.
“How far to the next landing?” He calls over his shoulder, pulling out a dark brown wool scarf that he tosses to Lewis.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Then we’ll stop in twenty minutes.” Dick smiles when he hears Lew groan behind him, and Lew smiles when he wraps the scarf around his neck, tucking it into his jacket and burying his face in it, taking a deep inhale of the familiar scent.
Within the next twenty minutes, Lewis manages to groan at least twice more and yell at three sheep to “get back in line! You wanna get eaten by a wolf?!”
When they reach the top of the ridge Lew rides up next to Dick, looking over the small area, a few trees littering the mountainside. He turns his head and tilts the brim of his hat up to look at Dick.
“Do you want to cut the wood, or set up the tent?”
Nix leans his head back and groans again, and Dick takes a moment to indulge himself, watching the long line of Lewis’ throat and the way his Adam’s apple bobs.
“Tent.” Dick’s eyes snap back to where they’re supposed to be and it takes him a second to nod, a second that has Lewis’ slight frown turning into a cocky half-smile.
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It takes Nix nearly as long to set up the tent as it takes Dick to chop the wood for the night's fire, maybe it’s because Lewis doesn’t know how to set up a tent (even after 5 trips up and down the mountain), or maybe it’s because he spends more time watching Dick set up and swing the axe down, easily splitting the wood in two, pausing for an extra minute when Winters sheds his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, the fabric hugging his strong arms.
“You okay?” Dick’s voice behind Lewis startles him, and when he takes a deep breath and feels the rise of Dick’s chest against his back he shivers for a moment, suddenly well aware of how alone they are. The redhead's hand slowly moves to Lew’s shoulder squeezing it tightly.
“Yeah- yeah, I’m- I’ve got it.” Lewis replies slowly, the words sticking in his throat like molasses, the brim of Dick’s light brown hat peeking into the corner of Lew’s vision.
There’s a small moment of silence between the two before Dick brushes his hand over the small part of exposed skin between Lewis’s (Dick’s) scarf and his hair, and then suddenly pulls away, turning to start the small fire he had set up, and leaving Lewis colder- and more in need of the fire- than before.
When the light is starting to fade over the far side of the mountain, Dick has his heavier jacket on, and Lewis’ hat is set over his eyes, his breath steady despite his mind running wild with thoughts of the man lying against the other end of a downed tree they had pushed close to their fire.
The fire warms their skin and heats the front of Lewis’ flask, making it hot to the touch and stinging his lip when he brings it up for a long drink.
“Drinking something new?” Dick’s voice is quiet and Nix can barely hear him over the crackles and pops of the well-built fire.
“Why would it be something new?” He grumbles from under his black cowboy hat.
Dick takes a breath and clears his throat lightly, “You…you said that you liked the whiskey that Kathy got you for your birthday last year.”
Lewis can feel his heart soften and he blindly fumbles with the cap back on his flask.
“The one from Pennsylvania…” He continues, his breath is shallow and Nix can feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves. He tilts the brim of his hat back to sit properly on his head and his eyes lock with Dick’s.
Lewis nods slowly and licks his lips.
“It was good…but when it comes to Pennsylvania, I prefer red wine.”
It doesn’t take Dick more than a second for the meaning to compute and for that familiar warmth to spread from the tips of his toes to the apples of his cheeks.
“How’s Etta?” The words sound polite but dull coming from Nix’s plush lips, he’s asking out of courtesy more than anything. Dick doesn’t say anything, just stares into the flickering flame.
“That good, huh?” Nix slouches deeper into the fur lining of his jacket, knocking his back back over his eyes.
There are a few moments where Nix thinks that Dick has given up on the conversation when he feels the warmth of the fire disappear, and before he can open his mouth to tell Dick to put another log on, a pair of rough lips press against his, the taste of the dinner they shared lingering on Dick’s lips and tasting familiar against Lew’s own- like going back for a plate of seconds.
Lewis doesn’t move any more than simply pushing his lips forward, sighing through his nose, easily tilting his head a little more, and allowing the redhead to place one of his large hands on the ground on either side of Lewis’ hips.
Dick pulls back slowly and uses his pointer finger to wipe Lew’s lip, being sure to push just the very tip of his rough finger between them.
Lewis lets the tip of his tongue run along the calloused pad of Dick’s finger.
“I missed you.” The redhead whispers, ducking his head and pressing their lips together again, Dick using his finger to open Lew’s lips further and slip his tongue inside. Dick presses closer and knocks their hats back, finally allowing Nix to open his eyes and take in the way Dick’s hair lights up in the flame, and how his freckles come and go with each flicker of the fire.
Lewis brings his hand up to push against Dick’s solid chest, gripping the fabric of his flannel tightly to push him back just enough so they can breathe. Their breaths mingle in the small space between them and when Winters opens his eyes and slips his finger from Lew’s glistening lips, they take a moment to look at the other, finally together after two years of letters and (on Lewis’ part) hushed payphone calls from outside some dingy dive-bar where after Dick hung up, he could pull some other broad-shouldered redhead into the bathroom and pretend for a while.
“I missed you too.” Lewis whispers, moving his other hand from his flask to run along the sideseam of Dick’s jeans.
“You need to stop calling the house.” That takes Lewis by surprise, his hand dropping away and going to the grass so he can push himself up straighter, forcing Dick to lean back so their heads don’t knock together.
“What?”
“When you called…last year, Dee-Etta picked up the phone, I knew it was you because nobody else calls after 7:30.” Lewis’ brows pinch together, “I barely had enough time to grab the phone from her before you started rambling about how upset you were that I couldn’t make it to Brokeback that year.”
The way Lewis is looking at Dick has the man swallowing nervously, his fingers cautiously pulling up small blades of grass.
“Why didn’t you write and tell me that then? You just had to say it now ?”
“It didn’t feel right, telling you over the phone or in a letter… I thought this would be easiest.”
Lewis feels his stomach drop right through him, ‘ Jesus Christ, he’s ending it. ’ he thinks to himself, ‘ giving me an easy break, in person because he can’t stand to do it through a letter ’, his vision blurs and his lips part slightly.
Dick knows Lewis better than either of them would like to admit, and he can see the thought pass behind the dark eyes of his lover.
“ No . Lew no, that’s not what I meant- I’ll call you , you can still write but you just can’t call-”
“That’s the problem DIck, you don’t call .” Nix pushes Dick off him and stands, grabbing his flask and cowboy hat, and rounding the other side of the fire, putting as much distance between them as he can, without leaving the safety of the fire’s light.
“Yes, I do-”
“Christmas day, 1962.”
“What?” Winters doesn’t understand, shaking his head.
“That was the last time you called me…3 years Dick.” Lewis’s words hang in the air and a minute passes with the only noise being the soft bleats of the herd. Exasperated he throws his hands up. “You don’t call Dick, or write. You know, friends call to say ‘hello’ or wish them a ‘Happy New Year’! It’s not out of the ordinary for men to call.” Lewis’s voice cracks and it kills him that his body is betraying him like this, putting him on display for Dick like this.
Winters is standing stiffly on the other side of the fire when he says, “She was starting to get suspicious.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit Richard-”
“She was going to figure it out if I didn’t make contact more scarce.” His voice is strained, like he’s nervous that Etta is around the corner, waiting to jump out and say that she’s finally caught them. “Etta thought I was having an affair-”
“That’s what this is Dick!”
“She’s pregnant.” That kicks the soul right out of Lewis’ chest and he stumbles.
“She isn’t going to work anymore, she doesn’t want any strain on the baby. She started cleaning out my office to make it a nursery and found your letters, she thought I was sleeping with another woman.”
A tear slides down Lewis’ cheek, his voice is painfully fragile when he murmurs, “so this is it?”
There’s a long moment where they’re standing on either side of the fire, watching the other breathe heavily before Dick whispers, “Yeah Lew…”
Lewis drops, legs giving out and hands trembling as he wipes at his face desperately.
“Nix!” Winters rushes around the fire, pulling Nix into his arms before he can collapse completely onto the cold ground and hurt himself.
Lewis rubs and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, hoping that if he rubs hard enough he will wake up in his own house, in the guest room down the hall from Kathy- that he will wake up in a world where this conversation never happened and instead, they simply spent the night in the tent, pressed together from lips to legs.
Instead of curling into his strong arms, Lewis shoves at Dick’s shoulder over and over until the redhead has to wrap Lewis in his arms with the flailing limbs trapped between their chests.
“I’m sorry.”
“ I hate you! ”
“I know.”
“You could have come with me, Kathy would never know! We could have had a life together !”
Lewis is sobbing into the collar of Dick’s jacket, and Dick has knocked Lew’s hat off so he can card his fingers through the dark hair.
Nix is too lost in the spiral of his own mind to feel anything outside of pure sorrow and betrayal toward the man he loves. He doesn’t feel Dick cradle his head to his chest, or when Dick shifts them into a more comfortable sitting position where he can pull as much of Lewis’ body against his as possible, but he does feel the soft patter of raindrops against his head- ‘ when had it started to rain? ’
He looks up at Dick and shifts him so they’re looking at each other, and ‘ oh, there’s the rain… ’
When the fire flickers just right Lew manages to catch the tears streaming down his lovers face, over his hard cheeks and dripping off his chin.
“I love you.” Dick murmurs.
“I love you, even when we’re worlds apart.”
Their kiss is gentle, and less about the kiss itself than it is about just needing to feel eachother, needing to know that ‘ yes, I’m here, I’m not leaving just yet. ’
Their noses are pushed together and their breaths are heaving, making small clouds of hot air form between them.
“I don’t want this to be over.” Dick’s voice is quiet, so unlike the usually sure and powerful man that Lewis is used to seeing over him.
“It doesn’t have to be! Dick, we can still be together, we can still come to Brokeback every fall- or you can come and visit me in Jersey, we’ll say we’re going fishing, and I’ll put us up in a real nice hotel, I’ll treat you right.” Lewis is begging him to think about it, begging him to say yes to that life, to them, to him .
“Lew…” and right then Nix knows from the softness of his voice- like cooing at a scared animal- what Dick’s answer is, “You know I can’t.”
“I don’t want our whole relationship to be defined by a few camping trips… I want to go dancing .”
The words hang between them, cutting Dick’s fragile heart in two.
“I’ll come to Jersey…we can go dancing.”
Lew’s dark eyes flicker across the freckled face slightly above him, searching for any sign of a lie.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”