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“Has anyone seen Cassius?” Dan shouted, more than asked the posse as they began settling down for the afternoon. When all he got in return was one or two knowing eyebrow raises, and some confused turns of the head, as though the owners were also thinking ‘ Hey yeah, I haven’t seen him in a bit ’, Dan couldn’t bite back his disappointed noise. “So who’s currently in charge?”
“I am!” Youngblood’s piping lisp came from somewhere in the middle of the group, prompting some good-natured chuckles, “Papa Clockwork said I got to organize the camp this time!”
“Lord, have mercy on us all ,” Dan cursed under his breath. “Has anyone seen the old goat, then?”
A spidery hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing. He only flinched a little.
“Might I remind you that this ‘old goat’ is responsible for both the morphine and the calamine, ivy boy.” Nocturn’s other hand waved in a lazy way, and the rest of the group returned to unpacking. “Cassius is occupied elsewhere, he won’t return for at least an hour. What could possibly be so important that you need to scatter birds to the wind while you look for him?”
Dan scoffed, but knew better than to try and shrug Nocturn’s hand away. “It’s none of your beeswax, Doctor , but I have something to ask him.”
“And it can’t wait?”
“I’d rather it didn’t.”
Their face pinched a bit, the corners of their mouth pulling back in what seemed to be the start of a disappointed grimace.
“Save your five stages of bullshit. I’ll go find him myself.” Dan muttered, finally removing Nocturn’s fingers from their perch on his shoulder. “Keep the brats off my ass for me.”
Nocturn sighed. “If I must. Try not to get yourself shot.”
-
There weren’t many landmarks within an hour's walk that were worth talking about, let alone spending an extended amount of time around. Dan followed the river towards the most likely area, a small pool in the normally strong current. What Cassius could be doing there was still a mystery, but he supposed that would be solved in due time.
Due time being approximately 30 seconds and a short blackberry bramble later.
Dan cursed as he tried to shake off a thorny stem, and cursed again when he heard the metal click of a gunhammer. His hands went for the air, the blackberry branch still wrapped around one, slowly unwinding itself as he braced for impact.
“ Chrissakes , Dan! Do you know how close I was to planting a bullet between your eyes?”
He opened one eye at the exasperated voice. Cassius’s voice. The blackberry bramble scraped against his cheek as he shifted, raising small welts where thorn touched flesh. That wasn’t the most uncomfortable part of this situation, however. Dan forced his gaze skyward, silently begging for strength so he wouldn’t sully the sun-kissed expanse of skin with anything so tainted as his own feelings.
“Why are you even out here?”
Dan swallowed around the cotton dryness of his throat, “I had a question for you that I didn’t want to let wait.” His tongue, usually so quick with a joke, sat slow and heavy in his mouth. “And I was… worried.”
The revolver clicked as Cassius pinched the hammer back into place. He breathed in. Out.
“Did Nocturn tell you where to find me?”
“He wouldn’t, but there’s not much else here in an hour’s walk from camp. Wasn’t too hard to guess.”
Some of the tension left Cassius’s shoulders (the lowest part of him Dan would allow himself to view.)
“Very well. Your question?”
“ Can you please put some pants on? ” Dan slapped a palm over his mouth, but not quickly enough to stop the strangled question from escaping. He was sure his face could rival a tomato at this point, and despite his best efforts, well, Cassius was a very attractive man.
Bright, clear laughter bounced over the surface of the river pool, followed by a slight burble as Cassius re-entered the water. It wasn’t until he felt a cool splash against his face that Dan looked down. The pool wasn’t deep, only coming up to Cassius’s ribs, but that was better than before. On a flat rock nearby, a neatly folded pile of clothes sat, along with a collection of toiletries that, judging from the lack of water around them, had yet to be utilized.
“Your actual question, Dan?”
“Oh.” Dan started. “Right. You uh, seemed stressed? After our last raid, y’know? I was wondering if you’d be willin’ to let me try something that always seemed to help me out?” He dragged his hand down his face, tugging a bit at his goatee. “There’s a… service I used to get when I lived in St. Denis. Like a luxury bath. One of the hotel’s girls would come ‘round n’ wash your hair for you.”
Cassius raised an eyebrow.
“No it wasn’t like that at all! It was real relaxin’, not having to worry about ‘did I do a good enough job?’ ‘what if I forgot the soap?’”
“Your question, then?”
“I was wonderin’ if I could do that. Wash your hair. Help you relax. Like I said, I’m worried about you, Cas.”
A conflicted look crossed Cassius’s face, melting into contemplation. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Hard as it may be to believe, I do know.”
“How long?”
“Long enough.” Dan couldn’t actually remember when he figured it out, but he kept the secret locked up right next to his little box of emotions that he didn’t want to think about. “So, may I?”
Cassius held his gaze level for a long moment, then sighed. “You may. It’s the cream-colored bar over in the pile.” He settled deeper into the water, leaning back against the smoothed rocks of the riverbank. He was careful now to not look at Dan, staring at the ripples in the water’s surface.
The small soap bar was flecked with little blue flowers that smelled a bit like lemons, though much more refreshing than the preserved slices of fruit that usually made their way this far north. None of the harshness of lime or wood ash lingered underneath, though when Dan dampened it, the soap lathered and foamed like it was supposed to.
He held his hands over the silver hair, trying not to acknowledge how they trembled. Who was he to consider himself worthy of being this close to Cassius? These were the hands of a no-good, lying thief and murderer. Dan could just as easily see blood instead of water dripping from his fingertips to dampen Cassius’s hairline, dyeing the pale strands with gore. Who was he to want a man as good as this?
“Is there a Rattler hidden in my hair, Dan? Should I get the garroting line?”
“No, I’m just- it’s nice soap. I’ve never seen this sort before.” He pressed one palm to the crown of Cassius’s head.
“It’s made from Hupestula root. Those plants you lot refer to as ‘worse than a Spanish bayonet’.”
“Oh…”
The silence stretched thickly between them as Dan began carding his fingers deeper into Cassius’s hair. The soap made it glide like the finest silk, and he tried not to seem too eager to run his fingers along the full length of it. What all did the girls at the hotel do again? Wash and dry, though Dan wasn’t going to press his luck with anything below Cassius’s neck. He could try his hand at massaging away some of the tension in his neck, however. He pressed the side of his thumbs against the divot at the top, running them down through baby hairs until he reached shoulder. The muscles remained remarkably tense until the third-or-so time, when he could feel the sudden drop of Cassius’s shoulders. With one final pass over the neck, Dan returned his fingers to the scalp, pressing gently and even using his blunt nails to scratch through the hair.
Cassius’s shoulders hitched suddenly, and Dan pulled back. “Shit. Did I pull?”
“No.” The single word sounded almost like it was being strangled.
“You don’t gotta lie to protect my feelings, Cas.” Dan leaned forward from where he was kneeling, very nearly toppling into the water when he saw the tears cutting salty paths down tanned cheeks. “ Chrissakes, are you okay?”
Cassius exhaled shakily, almost with a whine. “ No. ” He breathed. “ I’m not okay. ”
Dan swallowed. He wasn’t made for comfort. Hell, he could barely remember the last time he had been comforted in the way Cassius needed right now. He could start with the tears, he supposed. He rinsed the last of the suds from his hands before reaching up to the corner of Cassius’s eye, gently swiping his finger under the waterline.
At this distance, and especially in the light, Dan could see that Cassius’s eyes were not just dark brown, but a very deep auburn, almost bordering maroon. His pupils dilated when they met Dan’s (he wondered if his own pupils did the same) and held his gaze for more than a couple breaths.
Tanned, calloused fingers reached out of the water to cup at Dan’s temples, tracing along the path that the blackberry thorns took earlier. He felt a yank , and then the taste of pine and mint and salt on his tongue and Cassius’s lips were as soft as he’d ever imagined them to be , and then he was tipping forward too far, hitting the surface of the river with a shout.
Being that Dan wasn’t very far above the water, the splash wasn’t huge, but when he finally righted himself and broke the surface again, Cassius was so soaked that one wouldn’t even be able to tell he’d been crying. He shook his head like a dog, ponytail whipping around to slap against his cheek. The sound of water splashing against the rocks and birds chirping unbothered was soon broken by hiccuping laughter. It was the kind of laugh that only happened after tears, but a laugh nonetheless, which was more than enough for Dan.
Keeping aware of the nudity lingering just under the water, Dan shuffled over to reach for Cassius’s face once more. Blue eyes met brown, both of them so tired of the dancing around the heart of their problems. Dan leaned in again, and the taste of pine on his tongue had never been so sweet.