[A/N: Hello! This is my first Jedtavius piece, and I hope you enjoy it! I've put in a few cross-fandom references, too, just to keep things interesting. Some are more obvious than others—see if you can find them!]
The Western diorama hadn't been updated in quite some time, and for one solid reason: the Westerners were nothing if not self-sufficient. A creaky saloon door? That could be managed. Fence fallen down? Get a crew of two or three strong railwaymen, and it'll be fixed long before sunrise. But when the diorama's sole farmer, John Peters, had his barn demolished by a rib bone in a game of fetch gone awry, Mr. McPhee had to admit that a new barn would have to be ordered. Every Western town had to have some kind of sustenance, after all.
Jedediah, for one, refused to take the blame for the John Peters incident. He and Octavius hadn't been on fetch duty that night—Jedediah distinctly remembered Atilla running through the halls, waving the rib bone around his head like some kind of weapon, and his horde, and Rexy, following closely behind. They hadn't been in their usual spot either, that being at the front desk, roaring with laughter at kittens or Vines (or both). No, Jedediah and Octavius had a quieter night. They had decided to sit themselves around a campfire and break the silence only when they wished. Being the de-facto leader of an entire miniature society could be overwhelming, and sometimes, it was nice to simply exist next to a...friendly presence.
Jedediah hesitated to say 'friend'. Oh, there hadn't been a fight, or any dissonance in their relationship to speak of. In fact, they were closer than ever. But Jed had begun to wonder. Just...wonder. Maybe...there was something else.
But he shook that thought out of his head for now, his sandy locks shaking in tandem. Jed had business to attend to, after all.
Jed strode through the tunnel connecting the two dioramas (thanks to Larry, of course) and into the sunlight of Rome. Well, miniature Rome, anyway, but it was the only Rome they knew, and the only Rome they really ever needed. Jed never really got used to it; the transition between the untamed wilderness of the West, to the ordered lines and structures of Rome. But the Romans had become accustomed to him, and knew that Octavius had found a level of companionship with Jed that rivaled all of his other friendships.
Dammit, Jed thought, shaking his head again. Why did those thoughts always have some kind of slant to them when they came up?
"Jedediah!"
Jed looked in the direction of Octavius's voice, and noticed that the Roman was not wearing his helmet. It had been taken off recently, though, as his dark hair still lay flat against his head. Jed almost felt himself think about how he would like to muss it up a bit. He almost thought about how to play it off as just being friendly.
"I was jus' lookin' for you, pardner!" Jed replied, ignoring the feeling of the knot in his stomach tightening when Octavius smiled that dag-blamed smile of his. Keep it down, Jed. Keep it down.
Octavius seemed completely oblivious to his inner thoughts—thank the Good Lord for that. "What's happened, Jed?"
"You know John Peters?"
"Ah, yes, the farmer. Has the new barn come in yet?"
How on Earth did he always somehow know what Jed was about to say? Keep it down, Jedediah Smith.
Jed couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, actually, that was what I wanted to talk to you about. The new barn jus' came in the mail, an' we're plannin' a barn-raisin' for tomorrow night."
Octavius's brow furrowed a bit. "A barn-raising?"
Jed's smile broadened with excitement.
"Yeah! It's a big ol' party for a new barn. There's dancin', an' music, an' food, an' more drink than you can bat an eye to! And I was wonderin'..."
He paused as the lacksadaisical attitude of his speech ground to a halt. He sucked in a breath and hoped Octavius hadn't noticed.
"I was wonderin'...if you'd like to come. You know, jus' for the hell of it."
Octavius nodded, smile widening.
"It would be an honor! Will the barn already be erected? If not, I could bring some of my men to help."
"Naw, all we need is you, pal."
And, unbidden, Jed's hand reached up and ruffled Octavius's hair.
Jed froze. The knot in his stomach tightened further still, so far that he felt like Octavius could see it. How was it not obvious? How did Octavius not notice how bleedin' nervous he was? Quickly, he came up with an excuse.
"You really gotta loosen your helmet. Your hair's gonna get stuck like that."
Octavius let out a laugh—was that...was there a little bit of nervousness behind that laugh? Dag nabbit, had he made him uncomfortable? How was he going to make it outta this one?
Luckily, Octavius found an excuse for him. "It's almost sunrise," he said, looking over Jed's shoulder to the clock across the Hall of Miniatures.
Jed laughed, and hoped it didn't come across as relieved.
"Right. Guess I better get to goin'. See you tonight!" he said, rather more quickly than he'd hoped.
As he walked away, Jed released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
/
Octavius couldn't decide what to wear.
He usually didn't pay much mind to how he dressed. His armor had always suited him just fine—it was what the museum-going public wanted to see, after all. A strong Roman general, resplendent in armor, commanding his troops with ease and dignity. But that wasn't what was needed tonight.
At least, that's not what he thought was needed. He'd never heard of a barn raising before last night, and so had no idea what the etiquette was—not that that was his only motivation for choosing his mode of dress.
Jedediah was going to be there. In fact, Jedediah had asked him to be there.
What that meant, Octavius had no idea. He knew what he hoped Jed had meant. And he hoped it desperately. He had seen the slight blush on Jed's face when he'd asked—that alone was enough to give him some kind of hope for...well, if he wanted that to happen, he needed to dress the part.
No, not that, Octavius put aside his formal toga—the heavy purple one he wore when he spoke at the Forum. It was decidedly too much for the event, and for Jed. Without his armor, that left him with either his simple tunic or his lighter semi-formal toga, the one that he wore when he had feasts with his commanders. And he certainly wasn't going out dressed in what felt like his underwear.
That decided, he dressed. He decided on a simple gold clasp to hold it together—no need for extravagance. Jed had also mentioned dancing, so, after looking around to determine that no one was watching (not that they would be, anyhow), Octavius tested out his range of motion. He performed a couple little hop-skips, and a few other motions he assumed were part of cowboy-dancing. He felt absolutely ridiculous, but was satisfied that his toga wouldn't come flying off if he did decide to participate.
Octavius slipped his lyre into his satchel. Now that was something he was confident about. While his dancing could be hit-or-miss, Octavius was certain that he could participate in the music. He'd even written something just for the occasion, for the ears of John Peters only. He hoped he would like it.
A low whistle startled Octavius, and he whirled around to see Jedediah leaning against the door. Gods, he was looking good. He must've taken a bath, because his hair still looked damp under his cowboy hat. He'd never seen that shirt before, either—it fit him nicely. A bit too nicely for Octavius to feel casual about it.
"Ain't you lookin' fancy?" Jedediah said, his tone joking.
Octavius laughed nervously, gesturing to himself.
"Is it too much?" Octavius asked.
Jed shook his head emphatically.
"Nah, boy, you're perfect!"
Octavius's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. His throat tightened, and if he opened his mouth, he was certain that an undignified squeak would come out. So he kept his mouth shut. Perfect. Jedediah Smith had just called him perfect. Dear gods.
Jed didn't seem to notice either what he had said, or Octavius's reaction.
"What'cha got there?"
Octavius released his bated breath, and said, "Housewarming presents."
"Now ain't that nice of you? I'm sure Peters'll appreciate that."
"I certainly hope so," said Octavius, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. "Shall we?"