Octavius hardly noticed the polite, and slightly confused, applause from the majority of the Westerners. He barely noticed the exchanged glances, and the furrowed brows.

Octavius only noticed Jedediah. Jedediah, and just how ludicrous and adorable he was.

"WOOO! YEAH! WAY TO GO, PARTNER!"

He hardly thought his performance was worth all of that "hootin' and hollerin'", as Jed would put it, but Octavius was grateful for it. As he jumped off the stage, it was with a smile, with a laugh coming to his lips as his feet hit the ground.

Jedediah leapt up to meet him, and wrapped him in a tight, back-slapping embrace. Octavius's heart was pounding so hard that he was sure Jedediah could feel it against his ribcage. Octavius expected him to release after two or three seconds, like he always did. But instead, one of Jedediah's hands moved to the back of Octavius's neck, sending a shiver down Octavius's spine. They rocked in place, two, three, five seconds longer than normal. And when they finally released, Octavius felt like he could fly.

"Well? What are we waitin' for? C'mon, boys!"

A smattering of jubilant shouts, the opening of instrument cases, and a few warm-up twangs, and the bandstand filled up with Westerners, bearing all manner of instruments: guitars, various sizes of fiddles, banjos, and even what Octavius recognized as a washboard. How on Earth a washboard could be used as an instrument, Octavius had no idea. But before he knew it, he found out exactly how; the band began to play.

The crowd immediately shifted into two groups: those who did not want to dance, strayed to the edges of the barn. The rest—a large majority, at that—mingled in the newly-cleared area, pairing off and beginning to move in time to the tune the string band was playing.

Jedediah beamed, pulling Octavius back to their spot by the arm.

"C'mon, Octy!" Jedediah said, excitement peppered in his voice. "Put your harp away and let's dance!"

Fumbling with his satchel and stowing the harp away, Octavius tried to explain.

"Jedediah, I'm not particularly good at dancing."

"I'll teach ya!"

And Jedediah grabbed Octavius's hand. By Jupiter, Jove, and Pluto, Jedediah had taken his hand. Before he had time to fully absorb that fact, however, Jedediah's other hand found Octavius's waist. The pressure of Jed's hand there, just above his hip, sent tendrils of warmth through Octavius's body, coiling in the base of his belly, and Octavius could hardly stand it, but didn't want it to stop.

Jedediah didn't seem to notice the effect he was having.

"Here," he shouted above the music, "Put your other hand on my shoulder."

Octavius did so, feeling the lean, toned muscle underneath Jedediah's shirt, and trying not to be too obvious about it.

"Now, this is the two-step. It's the easiest thing in the whole wide world, you'll get it in no time," Jedediah said. "Follow what I do."

Jedediah moved his left foot forward, and Octavius moved his right foot backward (mainly so he wouldn't get stepped on). Then Jed moved his right foot forward, Octavius mirroring his movement. Left foot again, this time, moving to the left. Octavius stumbled over his own feet as Jedediah moved his right foot next to his left, and Jedediah laughed.

"That's all it is, pardner," he reassured Octavius, "Two steps forward, two steps to the side. Shall we?"

Octavius couldn't help the broad grin that cracked across his face.

"Yes. Yes, we shall."

They stayed along the outside of the floor—Jedediah figured that getting too far int the crowd would be a little overwhelming. Two steps forward, two side. Octavius kept looking down at his feet, and he stumbled once or twice, but he got the hang of it. Two steps forward, two to the side. Jedediah felt Octavius's muscles start to ease, and his hand became looser, more confident, in his. Jed's hand started to slowly pull Octavius forward as he guided him two steps forward until the two were pressed into each other two to the side. Jedediah delighted in the feel of Octavius's chest rising and falling against his, the little rumbles when he would laugh. God, he loved hearing Octavius laugh. It vibrated, not only in Octavius's chest, but through the air that separated them—and boy howdy, how Jedediah wished he could close that gap.

Before Jedediah could dwell on that thought for too long, the band ended their song, and the crowd broke into applause. It took a bit longer than what would be considered "usual" for Jedediah and Octavius to separate. Neither seemed to care.

/

"You like him, don't you?"

Jedediah looked over his shoulder at the intrusion. Marjorie was standing behind him, arms crossed, look knowing. Presently, Jedediah was leaning his forearms on the fence surrounding John Peters' property. He had decided to take a moment alone. Of course, he hadn't left Octavius to fend for himself, necessarily. John Peters had cracked open the honeyed wine, and wanted to know how the Romans could hold their liquor. Octavius had actually seemed pretty comfortable with the group he found himself in—that group being John Peters, and the older railroaders, who seemed to accept the Roman's relative eccentricity.

Jedediah huffed out a sigh, turning halfway to face her.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Miss Marjorie."

"Oh, for God's sake, Jed, nix the 'miss', would'ja?"

"Oh, yeah, 'cause I wanna be friendly with you."

Marjorie bit her lip, arms falling to her sides.

"Yeah, that's right," Jedediah continued, "I heard you and your sister talkin'. And, more importantly, so did Octavius. You know how much that hurt him?"

"Jed, my sister's a damned idiot. She didn't mean no harm."

"Yeah, well. She did some."

"You're not answering my question."

Jedediah turned back around, shifting his weight side to side. His eyes lingered in the dirt in front of him, as if it were some friendly face there that he would rather be looking at.

Marjorie moved next to him, mirroring his position.

"I seen the way you look at him," she started. "I seen you two dancin' earlier. And I think—"

"Oh, what do you think? You gonna try an' talk me out of it, or somethin'? 'Cause it ain't gonna work."

Marjorie raised her eyebrows.

"So you do like him?"

Jedediah didn't reply, but kept staring at the ground, his jaw firmly set.

Marjorie took a deep breath and leaned toward him.

"Well, what I was gonna say before you so rudely interrupted me, was that I think y'all'd look cute together."

Jed's ears perked as he heard Octavius's full-hearted laugh soar above all the rest of the voices and music emanating from the barn. Even from this distance, Octavius had the power to speed up Jedediah's heart beyond what was normal.

Marjorie smiled, watching the blush crawl up Jedediah's cheeks to his ears.

"I should probably go apologize to him, too," she said, pushing herself up off the fence and turning to go. Then, as she made her way back up the path to the barn door, she added, "You should tell him. I think he's taken a shine to you, too."

Jedediah finally looked up, only to see Marjorie's back as she disappeared back into the crowd.

Tell Octavius. Tell Octavius. It didn't feel like an idea, so much as a command that he couldn't ignore; like a string attached to something deep inside him, that kept pulling him, gently, but insistently, toward Octavius. Always toward Octavius. Octavius, and his soft, dark hair; his smile that made Jedediah feel like his chest was filling up with air, and that he would float away any minute; his eyes, which were even more beautiful when they were filled with affection than they ever were when the Romans and Westerners had been enemies. Octavius. Octavius.

Yes. He would tell Octavius. He would tell Octavius just how he felt. And he did something that he'd never done before: he hoped Marjorie had been right about something. Because if Octavius had the same feelings towards him...well. That'd be just fine. Just fine indeed.