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Soft, rolling hills reveal themselves as Volt and Eddie stop to hitch Hooch & Whiskey near a forest patch. Acres of moorland surround them, decorated by a blanket of poppies so thick it could hide blood. While the perimeter of the hill the men sit on now consist of rocky terrain, the center is soft, gently whispering. Several hours away, mountains are haloed by a falling sun as evening turns to dusk, as soft highlights turn to curious, skulking shadows.
Rare is a bird in the evening, but bats flitter by as they start their nightly hunt. The presence of man has shied the rangale of deer, leaving it nearly dead quiet, save for the wind. The only other sounds are the distant whinnying of Hooch and Whiskey.
—
Are Eddie’s patrols alongside Volt even considered a patrol anymore?
Is it considered a patrol when the leading man bolsters conversation adjacent to a yell? When, even with white sparking hair, Volt could outsmart a fox for its pelt? Did he need backup? No.
After countless nights of waking up to bright blue eyes, the smell of burnt coffee, and white hair frantically making breakfast for him, Eddie’s sure this “patrol” Volt has “invited” him on is another stargazing trip. Another instance of Volt naming and re-naming the stars and their connections, of baseline astronomy, or whatever he called it. He’s dreadful at the thought.
He dreads that he’s so far from town, gods forbid someone creep in. Dreads that he’s at the peak of this hill, in clear sight of a revolver, a rifle. Dreads the thought of someone watching them, townsfolk or outlaw.
Eddie dreads, too, the way his chest tightens at the sight of white hair shining in the moonlight, peeling away at the facade he so heavily employs throughout their people– to reveal something softer, something with depth.
He dreads that he’s caught himself abandoning his rifle to wrap his hands in silver skin instead. That, despite every stomach-churning signal that they’re dancing in the devil’s jowls, he wants more. Even now, as he’s spent countless hours speaking with Volt in the barn, at the saloon, in bed, he’s enthralled by his sheer presence. The pull Eddie’s been trying so hard to clip, to untie, only knots itself around his heart tighter.
Volt’s several paces from him now, humming a tune, with his eyes to the flowers. He’s lost in thought, considering the delightful time they had at Dasha’s ranch last week! He was beyond grateful to have helped her with the new calf, and even more so that he got to see Eddie so flustered– so green with nausea. And, above all else, Eddie was relaxed. Volt never thought he’d see it, even as he was ambushed by hens and forced to watch the horrors of calf birth–, even if it came in small bursts, he was at peace. His shoulders were angled, less tense. Nothing Volt could offer Dasha in services or alms would reciprocate his gratitude at being allowed to see Eddie this way. Safe.
While Volt’s sitting leaned against a rock, Eddie’s finishing hitching Hooch & Whiskey, both bubbling at the sight of him. After bidding the horses goodnight, he turns back towards the moor. Volt’s eyes are still long across the fields, but he’s not on lookout. It’s pure admiration, blissfully lost in thought. The moon makes his skin glisten— it’s damn near blinding.
Almost as blinding as blue eyes turning to look at him with a soft, waiting smile.
“Better close your mouth, angel, nasty flies during this time of year.” Volt smiles.
Eddie scoffs, “Keeping yourself real busy pickin’ wildflowers, I see.”
“Poppies! Quite medicinal. Better learn what they’re good for, lest someone sneak up on you, darl.” Volt swoons, placing a small pile next to him. Lovely for Rainey, he thought.
Volt pats the grass he’d cleared next to him. “If you’re concerned about being on a hilltop, you may as well sit down instead of hunching like a cellar rat,” Eddie nearly trips over Volt’s remark, but it draws a long, silver smile across Volt’s face.
Eddie plops down next to him, metal clicking against itself as his Winchester joins him in the grass, a moment’s grasp away. They’re both surprised Eddie hasn’t kept his hand on the trigger, but let it rest in his lap, the other hand in the grass inches from Volt’s. Eddie’s eyes remain affixed on it, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. If they’re not on his rifle, they’re lost over the vast grasslands that sweep in front of them, searching for any abnormalities, for any lights flickering, any sign of a malignant camp. Of them.
“I do love coming out here on patrols,” Volt says, smirking at Eddie. “Patrols.” Eddie groaned to himself. Steel eyes still scanning, ever-observant. “I especially love watching you try to see just how many squirrels you can count in the fields. That… is what you’re doing? I can’t imagine what else’s churning in that pretty little head of yours,” he teased, turning to watch stormy eyes.
Gods above, anything but this. Eddie feels his face flush, thankful the faint light of the moon hides it.
“Someone’s gotta keep watch, don’tcha think? Not everyone can pick flowers and sing, Lightning,” Eddie scoffs. His eyes are still flitting across the field– he’s sure if he even meets Volt’s ever-observant gaze that’s pinned to him right now, he’ll melt into the grass. He’s already let Volt in further than he should have, seeing as it’s his bed Volt goes to every night. The crack in his chest Volt’s slithered in through crumbles ever larger as they continue to involve themselves with each other.
“I appreciate your dedication, I must say,” Volt coos, trying to follow Eddie’s gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie watches as Volt’s expression shifts. “You never seem to rest, even now. So caring for our darling little town,” Volt’s voice is softer now. Eddie stays quiet for a beat.
“S’too many of them for Dorian to watch over alone. Someone’s gotta do it.” A pause. “Besides, it’s my fault there’s a possibility of danger to begin with. I can’t let them down, not with Scandalabra tugging at the seams, and especially not with Pinn breathing down our necks.” Eddie moves his free hand back to his lap, picking at the ruined cuticles until they’re redder still.
“What else can be done?”
Eddie’s quiet for a long while. Flipping through habits and strategies, the hundreds of mental checklists that overlap and overrun his brain– nothing.
“...I don’t know. Play it by ear, as always. You being here… has helped. a lot.” He forces out. Things he never thought he’d say aloud. “If nothing else, to get Tony off my ass so I can focus.” A quick follow-up, something to reset the tone, but Volt’s already enthralled that Eddie had given him a reply. Something other than a retort, something benign.
A lone, silver pinky curls its way around Eddie’s, shy and asking. And all he’s able to do is clamp his jaw further shut. The hell’s he meant to say?
But Eddie doesn’t move his hand. He’s sure even with the lightness, the gentle hesitance of Volt’s offering, it’d be easier to detach his hand than let go of Volt. Volt tilts his head slightly, eyes still affixed on Eddie.
“Did… did you enjoy your time at Dasha’s ranch?”
Eddie finally tires from scanning back and forth across the fields, now locked onto his legs, the grass, his hand. It takes everything in him to open his mouth, only to close it again.
“Well,” Eddie breathes. “Other than being torn to pieces by an army of hens and being forced to watch ‘the miracle of life’ as you call it,” accompanying his statement with an air quote, “...it was nice. Quiet. It’s not something I’ve felt in a long time.” The words crawl out of his mouth, like it takes all his consideration to blurt out each phrase. Volt always was better with words.
“I never thought I’d be blessed to see such a sight,” And Eddie’s sure he’s joking, that it’s some satirical spat. He barks out a laugh. But he’s painfully aware that Volt’s still watching him with something left to be desired.
“Don’t get your hopes up. Consider it an annual holiday.” He states flatly. Eddie feels the sting of skin as he’s picked it away from the side of his thumb. He’s hoping the sting can redirect his line of thinking, shift focus back to their duties, to the reason they’re meant to be out this late to begin with. But the only thing still catching his attention is Volt. Volt. Volt. Volt.
As if he’d heard Eddie’s tangled thoughts, Volt reaches forward to position a finger under Eddie’s jaw, turning his head up until they’re locking eyes. Eddie’s firing on all cylinders, one step down from frantic as he’s searching Volt’s face. White static flickers and snaps around Volt’s hair.
“In all my ventures, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as captivating as you,” Volt murmurs. The moon reflects a silver crown on his head now, making him angelic. He’s enamored, and it terrifies Eddie. How Volt has woven himself into Eddie’s chest, his soul, is beyond him.
“Could say the same about you.” He chokes. “Can’t say dazzling, white-haired men come by town often.”
Words have left his skull entirely, becoming increasingly replaced by one word. One being.
Eddie’s sure he could sit like this until dawn arrived, despite the many bells ringing that this was not wise. Volt’s ripping walls out brick-by-brick, tearing up the floorboard, and Eddie’s stuck to watch. He does his best to memorize Volt’s face, how his nose rests, the shape of his mouth, the singe of his hand on Eddie’s chin.
And Eddie is unmoving as Volt inches closer, with unwavering eyes, as they always are. Always pushing, taking what he wants while still gently collecting what’s leftover to build something anew. Eddie’s nearly blinded by pale skin.
A slow, soft buzzing creeps its way into Eddie’s brain as Volt’s lips finally meet his. He’s sure he’s on fire, that he’s able to feel every neuron in his body snapping and crackling against Volt’s static skin. And Volt’s lips were a sort of dry softness that fell onto his like a latch. What else was Eddie to do but sigh, lean into it.
He’s resisted Volt for so long, god only knows he’s tried his hardest to keep his distance, remain aloof. He knew the consequences of people being close to him. Knew they were signing a contract to an early grave. The cost of the uncontrollable swelling in his chest, of selfishly allowing himself to memorize more than just Volt’s voice, would be worth it.
Eddie moves a hand to Volt’s neck in a shaky attempt to bring him closer so nothing fits between. His other hand finds Volt’s waist, letting himself float to the ground as he’s sacrificed, propping himself up to begin the infinite task of learning Volt’s body. Hearing Volt’s soft moans as they continue pushing and pulling, grass tickling Eddie’s ears, causes the buzzing to increase. His fingertips begin to numb.
Sparks whiz and fly around Volt’s hair as he moves to kiss the side of Eddie’s mouth, his jaw. He’s more than surprised as Eddie upturns his neck, allowing Volt access. Volt sucks lightly on the tender crook of his neck, trailing hands up & down his torso. Tense as he usually is, Volt wonders if he’ll pull something from sheer anticipation. Want. But Eddie’s surprisingly relaxed.
He’s lazily shifted an arm around Volt’s neck, the other hand finding his chest. When Volt pops back up to find Eddie’s lips again, it’s somehow sweeter than before, open and patient and steady. They move as Eddie does, letting him take the lead despite being flat on the grass. Volt hums as Eddie’s tongue enraptures his own, their bodies interlocking as they push and pull against each other, learning each other’s tastes, their patterns, their bodies.
When Volt pulls away to look down, he’s sure he’s short-circuiting.
Moon-blessed Eddie. Pale light dully lathing tan skin. It highlights the maroon streaks he tries so hard to camouflage. It brightens his features, and it’s heaven. Volt keeps the image to heart, how blissed out he looks. Eddie’s face is beet red, but more than than, his eyes–
The moon has brightened his eyes to an unimaginable degree, so much so they’re sparkling. Eddie is a cold, stern, biting wind. He’s unmoving and curt and rarely hesitates to pepper the ground in bullet casings. Marvelous barkeep, too.
But Volt has been blessed to witness a deeper half of Eddie. Quiet. Simple. Protective. Goal-oriented and empathetic to the meeker townsfolk. Now, cradled in the meadowgrass, Volt has revealed something more tender.
Eddie, on the other hand, is looking up at temptation incarnate. Half-lidded, Swiss-blue eyes pin him to the ground, and he’s sure his back is four inches into the dirt. Behind frazzled white hair, stars litter the sky like an audience to a nova. And Eddie is still petrified at the lingering thought of losing him one day– but he can’t think about that now. How can he?
“Thank god for this rock.” Eddie nods to the one above their heads now. “Hooch & Whiskey may have worked together to run off had they seen all this.”
Volt laughs, a lavender sound. White hairs trickle out of his pent-up hair to trail on either side of the pair. With another kiss on the cheek (that Eddie now grumbles against, though he doesn’t move away), Volt moves to lay next to him, watching the sky.
“Now. Where were we, my darling?” he thinks, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder.
“You were naming the cluster East of here,” Eddie points. He falls asleep to the hum of Volt’s voice, rattling off a tale of twins.
–
Several hours later Eddie’s freaking the FUCK out because they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The sun’s not even out yet, but orange hues start peeking just over the mountain. Fucking hell. If Volt creeping into his room looked interesting, then sneaking back into town at the crack of dawn would be earthshattering.
Got to get back before Scandalabra awakens.
He creeps out from under Volt, using his vest as a pillow while he readies the horses.
His gun is two feet away from him, to his humiliation. Can’t believe he let himself fall from alertness. Can’t regret it either. The Winchester is damp with dew, as the two of them are.
When Volt awakes, it’s to the rustling and clamoring of Eddie, frantically readying their supplies.
Next to him, where raven hair once was, lies a wreath of poppies, meticulously wrapped into a small crown.
As they ride back into camp, Volt humming another folk song, red petals floating off of the crown into his hair. Eddie’s eyes are on Whiskey’s crest, lest they match the color of the poppies riding in front of him.
Volt chides that midway through his lesson, he heard Eddie lightly snoring. It takes everything in Eddie not to push him off of Hooch.
By the time the first few townsfolk mosey their way out on the main drag, Eddie and Volt are sitting in the kitchenette, drinking burnt coffee.