i'm back on my bullshit again. how's the foreseeable future treating y'all? have some escapism.
As can be expected when four guys move into a farm and don't have much time spare, clearing out the two old barns that ain't housing no animals but bits of old things takes a while to get to. 'Til one day, a family bunch stop by with their cart and wagon an' Crooks stitches the deal that if they help clear the barns, they can take anything they fancy.
Deal struck, the barn's stripped down to jus' its walls in naught over an hour. Slim helps, seein's the horses refuse to leave the stables today; just so happens whilst helping he finds an old pair of glasses, with rusty hinges. And as can be expected of any guy, really: Slim ain't gettin' any younger, which is why he folds them back up and slips 'em into the pocket of his shirt, mind awready moving ahead of his arms to move the next thing.
Slim don't know why, but he tries them out over dinner- mebbe because there's this column Candy's showin' round in the paper and his eyesight ain't getting any younger. They tease him, the rough way guys fond of each other do, he cracks one or two jokes at hisself to show he ain't offended none and even manages to crack a rare smile out of George, which makes just about anything and everything worthwhile.
After dinner, they head up to their room, which can be expected'a any farm hand at the end of a long day. Second the door's shut, George turns him round by the shoulders and leans real close, chests touching, about to kiss.
Before he do any of that, though, Slim blinks in fascination as he slides the glasses off'a his face and puts 'em on carefully on the side table.
Now they kiss.
After, half sitting next to and half sitting on top of each other, Slim lights a cigarette and George makes a soft noise that ain't quite a hum and ain't quite a haw, pushing the glasses away from the edge of the side table with just the tips of his fingers. Waiting, Slim keeps his breathes all even as the noise slowly grows and climbs out George's throat. "Lennie found some glasses once, I ever tell ya that? Walkin' 'tween Gazelle an' Weed, some guy'd just left 'em by a log- couldn't get him to take 'em off no matter what I said. Not even when he lay down to sleep."
A new noise rumbles softly under his words, like when thunder rolls in quick after a storm. Laughter Slim realises, but fighting back his own smile lest the light when he grins makes George get stage fright.
"Next mornin' he still di'nt take 'em off. His spoon kept missing his bowl 'cause he couldn't see straight."
"Yeah?" He passes the cigarette over and takes it back before he asks, "He keep the damn things on all'a way to Weed?"
"Naw. Not e'en a mile up the road he'd fell flat on his ass three times. Fourth time, he walked into a tree and smashed them all up. I yelled at him- think the birds flew outta the trees, with me slatin' him that he coulda got glass in his eyes."
They laugh together, the sound winding down like a stream drying out after all the bends and turns. Slim ain't a fool, but he sure does have a habit of hoping. This time, he hopes as he stubs out his cigarette and turns back to sit properly that George ain't yet remembered what happened before, that there's time for Slim to bolster him afore he remembers and falls back in one if his guilt trips.
He catches sight of George's face and knows he's too late. What was that about hoping again?
Carefully, he slides an arm 'round George's shoulders in one easy movement and pulls him down, sorta so his head's restin' on Slim's shoulder and he can press his cheek into his hair that ain't got no rights bein' so soft after workin' out in the dirt every day, "Hey," Slim murmurs, so quiet the sound of the words ain't even reach all four corners of the room. "'S awright. You can talk bout Lennie, George. You can talk about him as much as you want." The shrug doesn't dislodge him or even make him loosen his grip none. Slim waits him out- like horses that don't wanna leave the stable. You give any spooked animal time enough in the dark and he'll come outta it eventually. Even George. It's the twitch of his fingers along Slim's hipbone, pressing lightly to match the bruises they left on each other the night before last, that's how he knows it's safe to carry on. "You keep tellin' yaself you can't much as you like, too. I know the truth, I ain't gonna let you believe otherwise."
George huffs, "I know that."
"Then what's it gonna take for you to believe me when I tells you feelin' guilty ain't the only way of remembering Lennie? You thinks anytime you remember him without guilt means you's one more step to forgetting him, but it ain't that way. You cant remember Lennie as the guy you killed. You gotta remember Lennie, who he was before what happened to him. That's the reason you shot him in the first place, that's the reason you're here now and that's the reason you're gonna carry on living best you can."
Sighing, he buries his face a little deeper in Slim's neck, "All makes sense when you say it, but when I try to..."
"I know." And there's nothin' can be done 'bout that but time, and time will happen one day after another.
"Things were easier, with Lennie I mean." His face is hot, but dry. His lips move against Slim's skin same as the night before last too, though in a different way. That's awright, though, Slim wants every part of George.
"Always so goddamn crazy, always drove me crazy, worryin' after him I ain't never need to stop think doubt if we never saved up no money for our own ranch, or what'd happen when one's us had an accident and couldn't work no more. And he weren't gonna fuckin worry about anything. Was so goddamn fucking easy Slim, even all the times I got mad."
Slim presses a kiss into his soft hair, the same way he once saw this same guy do to Lennie; comin' in late after takin Curley to the doctor in town that night, sneaking in quiet so's not to wake nobody, so quiet he didn't get noticed at all by two guys sitting on the porch to the bunkhouse. Lennie with his face all bruised hadn't looked pretty and ain't neither has George, the bags under his eyes the same purple as Lennie's black eyes. He'd snuck a look just long enough to see the two of them there before letting himself into the bunkhouse and heading straight for bed.
"You are right."
"Damn told you so," he teases.
It even makes George huff a laugh. "Lennie's more'n just that I killed him."
"Right." Not that it were a question but it don't hurt none to hammer the point home when you're convincing a guy.
A kiss brushes over his shoulder, "Thanks, For..." So side effect'a George talking more's sometimes he don't finish the sentence he's saying but it dont matter none- Slim always knows.
"'S awright." He slides down the bed as George turns the lamp off and takes his cigarette and stubs it out for him as well, pulling the window shut so's only open a crack and then lying down pressed up against his side even though's hot they don't need blankets.
After a while's ticked by in the dark, Slim feels him shift.
"By the way." George says. "You look real good in glasses."