Summary: Mama always said to let sleeping babes lie. Slice-of-life oneshot set some months after Rose Creek, in the happy AU where everybody lives and nobody dies. Heavy on the friendships, but no slash intended. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own zero out of these seven characters and all things relating to them. So sad.
Author's Note: I totally meant to see the new "Magnificent Seven" when it first came out, but alas, it didn't happen until this past Christmas. I fell in love with these seven unique characters, and to me, the saddest part of all was that most of them died before their budding friendships could truly blossom. So indulge me in a little AU here, where the Seven still live and have had the time together that they deserve. Enjoy!
Let Sleeping Ones Lie
They've been in this town a couple of days and will move on in the morning. At first light, Sam's already told them, even if it means that a certain hungover someone gets dragged out of bed by the hair and tied to his own saddle. They can't afford to lose any more time in pursuit of their next quarry.
For now, however, the Seven are gathered for dinner around a table at the inn where they will soon spend their second night. Sam Chisolm's men take full advantage of these home-cooked meals whenever they can come by them – with one exception.
Vasquez, from his usual place beside Faraday, nudges the Irishman with his elbow. "Hey, mira al niño."
They all follow his nod to look at Red Harvest. It's no surprise that the youngest member of the group isn't joining in their meal. He's sitting atop a barrel behind Horne, just outside the little circle of their table, and leaning against a wooden support beam. What shocks all of them are his closed eyes. It might be a trick, either of the light or of the Comanche's own wiles; but Red's normally proud shoulders are relaxed, and his breathing light and even.
"Well, I'll be damned," Goodnight breathes in amusement.
"Leave him be," Sam breaks in quietly, recalling the time someone slipped a cockroach down the back of his neck after he'd inadvertently dozed off. He still isn't sure if it was Faraday or Goodnight.
Sure enough, on the other side of the table, Vasquez and Faraday exchange disappointed looks, and only the good Lord knows what sort of cruel device they already have in mind.
"You're no fun, Jefe." The Mexican outlaw pouts like a deprived child, but Sam ignores him like a practiced parent.
"Boy rode hard all through the night to scout out our next target, which is more than any of you've done in the past twenty-four hours. Let him sleep."
"Still, this has gotta be the first time Red's ever slept inside," Faraday observes. "Hell, I hardly see him sleep as it is." It's true, the kid can be downright reclusive if he so chooses, despite traveling day and night with six other men.
"You just sleep longer than he does, Cabrón, so you never see him," laughs Vasquez, and the others join him.
The gambler waves off his friend's comments and turns back to Chisolm, only half-joking. "You gotta stop working him so hard, Sam, or you'll run him right off the team – and then I'll be stuck with all of Horne's awkward bonding moments."
Not that Faraday minds those moments. Not really, but it's nice knowing that the almost-fatherly attentions can be redirected toward someone else if he needs a break. And Horne has managed to connect with both young men in his own way, as unlikely as it might seem.
The tracker himself speaks up then. "It's a sign of trust that he's able to sleep here. Never woulda caught him doing that back in Rose Creek."
"He doesn't still think you're gonna scalp him, does he?" Faraday huffs. "Face it, Horne, he trusted you least of all in the beginning."
"Jack is no more likely to scalp Red than the other way around," Goody interjects, sounding a little weary himself. It's not easy being the voice of reason when their half-drunken Irishman gets on a roll.
"Red learned to trust us long ago," Billy observes. "It's others he has to worry about now."
His colleagues can fill in the rest of the blanks themselves. Although they're all outsiders in one way or another, Billy and Red Harvest attract the most conspicuous stares in every town they pass through. Red must know by now that his newfound friends would never harm him after all they've been through together; but the same cannot be said of the other men they encounter in their travels, most of whom wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet between the Comanche's eyes, if given the opportunity.
The Seven know this because some of them used to be the same way.
"You mean he trusts us to protect him," Vasquez says somberly, finishing Billy's thought aloud, and the realization renders all of them (even Faraday) strangely quiet.
After all, it's one thing when someone trusts you not to hurt them; it's a different level altogether when they trust you to protect them from someone else, even at the risk of your own well-being. For Red Harvest to doze off in a public gathering place like this, his trust in them must have reached that second level. Not to mention, he's probably very tired.
The six men finish their meal in relative silence before gradually trickling off to bed themselves, until only Horne and Sam remain to keep watch over their sleeping youngest.
"Well, we can't leave him here all night," Chisolm decides at length. "Time to wake him up."
It takes only the gentlest nudge of Horne's elbow against Red's foot to rouse the warrior, whose surprise is evident even as he rubs the sleep from his dark eyes. Apparently, he didn't expect to fall asleep in that position, either.
Sam suppresses a chuckle, looking on as Horne takes a drowsy Red Harvest by the shoulder and steers him outside into the night. Both men prefer to sleep on the outskirts of town at times like this, under the stars rather than under a roof; and even if they won't admit it yet, their two little camps creep closer and closer together with each stop.
In the very beginning, when the lot of them first arrived in Rose Creek, loyalty toward Sam Chisolm was the common ground that bound them together or prevented them from turning against one another. And when he considers the various, more creative methods which some of his comrades might have used to wake Red Harvest that evening, Sam realizes he's still the one protecting these men.
Both from the outside world and from each other.