Jack is on his way to grab a turkey sandwich when he hears Ennis's. Now who's he talkin' to? He feels a flare of irritation at the instant jealously that churns in him. He hasn't seen him since he got back late last night, and he was busy all morning trying to get L.D. off his ass about the conference. He walks slowly in Ennis's direction, beginning to decipher the words, and peeks at him talking from the side of his eyes, leaning against the hallway wall. So he's on the phone then? Hmm, never figured him to be big on that.

"…sorry. Know I should a called earlier…yeah, I'll be there. I know." Ennis pauses, listening. "Well, I'll see you soon." He nods against the receiver as if the other person can see him, and Jack smiles.

"Cain't talk 'bout that right now…no…" Ennis's voice wavers, heavy with emotion, and Jack immediately feels guilty for intruding on this private moment. He props himself off the wall and starts to head back to the kitchen.

"I gotta know… are they lookin'—" Ennis stops abruptly.

Uh oh. He turns, sheepishly, and sees Ennis staring at him. Ennis mumbles something into the phone and quickly hangs it up, raising his eyebrow at Jack.

"I… umm… well Lureen said Bobby wanted to go on a picnic today? Was wonderin' if y'wanted to come 'long?" Nice save, jerkoff.

Ennis shrugs. "Sure."

"Good, I'll go'n tell Bobby." Jack practically runs off, glad for the excuse. Geeze, who you think you are, spyin' on 'im? Ain't his mamma, don't got no right.

…'s not like y'found out anythin' interestin', anyway.

You pull the shirt over your head, still finding it strange to wear Jack's things. The words she said are still jangling around in your head. Another week. You feel bad that you lied to her. You want to be there, you really do.

But it would be the ultimate disrespect.

Why couldn't you just tell her? You have nothing to hide anymore. She must know—everyone must know by now. You're not really sure why you called. Brushing the bandages on your wrists with your thumb, you almost have to laugh at the bitter irony of it all. You can't even die right. Guess you should have figured it wouldn't be anything like the movies, nothing ever was. Shaking your head, you grab your hat, smiling when you remember how Bobby made you promise not to tell Jack that he'd come into your room without permission.

But you were glad to help him conduct his "science experiment." It hurt, but in a good way, a way that made you feel human instead of a like a monster. He doesn't give you the doe-eyed look that Jack does, those eyes begging for a respite, begging for an explanation. It's easy to be with him. You can almost forget, here. You can see now that Jack has built himself a real good life here.

You just wish you could stay.


"Hey, Nero, hard at work?" Laura Newsome asks, poking her head into the office.

Nero looks up from the filing cabinet and gives her a two-hundred watt smile. "Always, Missus N. What can I do for ya, ma'am?" He closes the filing cabinet quickly, leaning against the desk.

She enters the office, very prim and proper in her twin sweater set and white dress smattered with red floral print. "I was hopin' you might be able to do me a favor, my dear boy. You know that man, uh, Jack's friend? Ennis?" Nero nods. "Well, Lureen 'n I reckon it's about time he stopped moping around the house. He's disturbing her peace somethin' unmerciful, y'know. I was thinkin' that maybe you could talk to Leecil for me and get the whole matter straightened out." Her expression was beseeching, and she twisted her purse handle around in her hands, obviously only sharing parts of the story.

Nero digested this, nodding slightly to himself, and offered up another blinding smile, "Anythin' for you, Missus N, ya know that. I'll go 'n see 'im raiht now."

She places her hand on his arm, relief heavy in her voice, "Thank you so much, dear. I would do it myself but Leecil hasn't listened to a word I've said since the day we got married." She laughs at her own joke, tells him to have a good day, and beelines out of the office, knowing L.D. will be suspicious if he sees her hanging around.

Nero leans against the desk, languid, in silent contemplation. Once he's formed his plan of attack, he cuts across the building to L.D.'s office, a place he generally likes to avoid but rarely can. Knocking lightly on the door, he enters when he hears a gruff "Whaddya want?" from inside. He enters, immediately tensing when he's inside. The opulence of the office always puts Nero on edge. Thick carpets, a garish shade between vomit and split pea soup, heavy and dark wood paneling, and a whole wall full of family portraits menacing anyone who dares to come into the room.

Though he does prefer the portraits to L.D.

"Hey there Nero, y'got those reports for me?" he asks, throwing back the rest of his drink.

Y'mean the one you told me about fifteen minutes ago? Sure, sure, let me just pull them out of mah "I'm a magic fucking file finder" ass. "Still workin' on those. But I been thinkin' 'bout what you said before, wantin' some more help around the house, with the ranch 'n all."

"Y'got someone in mind? All these goddamned applicants—can't trust 'em any father 'n I can throw 'em. Don't never call back, or they if they do, they ask 'bought benefits and other shit like that."

"Maybe we could put that Ennis fella t'work?" Nero says, testing the waters.

"That guy!" L.D. slams his hand down on the desk, and half rises out of his seat with agitation, "Ain't had myself a fuckin' moment a peace sine he got here! I don't what that pissant Jack is thinkin', bringin' him in like he's running some kinda a goddamned boarding house or sumpin', but I don't 'preciate havin' that kind a influence 'round Bobby. Ain't right, a man sittin' around all day doin' nothin'." His chest is heaving, but he's run out of steam—and breath—for the moment.

"Ta'in't raight, to be sure. He'd make a good addition to the work crew at the ranch, mebbe."

L.D. thinks about this for a moment, "Jack didn't put you up t'this, did he? I wouldn't want to give him the satisfaction a sucking more money out a my pockets."

"'Course not, boss. I just figgered we could pay 'im low enough that he wouldn't even be an official employee or nuthin'. Could be like a tradin' sit-ua-tion, he's stayin' on the property and workin' for it, too. I think Jack mighta mentioned sumthin' 'bout gettin' him a job over at Roy Taylor's, act'lly."

"You make sure we get Ennis on our crew, Nero, don't want Taylor takin' any more able-bodied men, bastard already got half the population in Childress workin' for 'im."

L.D. sits back down, pours himself another drink. "Glad we got that settled. Go get me that report now."

Nero smiles. "Sure thang, boss."

"Daddy, when're you goin' a teach me t'fish like you 'n Ennis do? Mamma always says you guys must be pros at it by now, been doin' it so long."

Jack, reclining back on the picnic blanket, flushes slightly, "I could take you next weekend, Bobby. Maybe you can even get Ennis t'tell you 'bout fly fishin'." He looks over at Ennis, eyes crinkling in amusement—and happy to see that the shadows, for now, have left Ennis's face.

"Oh, would you, Mr. Ennis? Paul would be so jealous, then he could finally stop braggin' 'bout how he's always catchin' two-foot long trouts, not that I b'lieve 'im anyways." Bobby takes a heroic bite out of his sandwich, bulging to the brim with turkey and mayo, looking expectantly at Ennis, who chuckles.

"I'd be happy t'teach you, Bobby, but I don' think you'll be catchin' yourself no two-foot trouts just yet. Ain't never fished 'round here before, though, we might both have t'take lessons from your daddy here."

"I'll teach you 'bout shootin', Bobby, you'll get bored learnin' a fish."

"Shoot? Jack, I bet you tried to aim for your left foot you'd end up hittin' your right. Get Lureen t'teach 'im, she seems pretty handy with a gun."

"Mamma? A gun?" Bobby nearly chokes on his sandwich, "That's somethin' I don't ever wanna see, daddy!" They all share a good belly laugh over that, and the conversation continues through the afternoon, easy. After they finish their sandwiches they lie back in the sun, content to enjoy the afternoon. Jack is warmed by a combination of the lazy heat circulating in the meadow, the relief suffusing him every time he hears Ennis speak a word without undertones to it, a distinct sense that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

This is just what he's always wanted.

As they're driving home, he understands, for the first time, what that means. Even if Ennis cain't tell me what's goin' on yet, don't mean I don't want him here. Fact is, don't want him t'leave—didn't even want 'im t'leave when I was so mad I was 'bout to tear my hair out.

And when I tol' him 'bout that calf and cow operation, I was also tellin' him that I'd be around, good or bad. So this'll be the bad, I guess. But I can wait for the good.

"Penny for your thoughts, bud?" Ennis says, pushing Jack lightly on the shoulder.

"Huh?" he says, realizing that they've parked in front of the house and he didn't even notice. "Oh, guess we better get inside."

Ennis shrugs, looking out his window. Jack looks him up and down, reading the signs, "Or how 'bout a little hike? I could stand t'walk off all that potato salad, swear Lureen's always gettin' on my case 'bout losin' ten pounds."

As they walk the trail to the overlook, Jack hopes he wasn't misinterpreting Ennis's intentions, because his cock has already started bulging against his jeans, and not at a very comfortable angle, either. His patience is rewarded when Ennis tackles him against a tree, breath whoosing out of him as he makes contact with the bark, and they tumble, kissing furiously and unbuckling various contraptions, deeper into the trees, off the path. Jack shucks off Ennis's shirt, sucking and biting his skin, starved for the taste of him, the tangy sweat and salt, and he bites the area just between his neck and shoulder, sucking softly, just short of leaving marks; he works his way down, running his tongue roughly over Ennis's nipples. He can feel Ennis trembling beneath his ministrations, nails digging into Jack's scalp, and he comes back up, needing to kiss Ennis.

He moves his hand into the curled roughage just below Ennis's beltline, twining it through his fingers before gripping the base of his cock, reveling in the sensation of velvet-coated steel. Ennis moans into his mouth, and moves his own hand into Jack's jeans, exposing his desire to the open air, "God, Ennis, so good," Jack says incoherently, clinching closer, and their hands are sliding, fast, and they press their cocks against one another, pulsing hot, thumbs gripping tight and working the sweet spot until they come together, crashing into each other like two trees, felled and only staying aloft because of the other.

Jack sighs softly, hearing the reassuring sound of Ennis's breath in his ear, feeling his heartbeat against his neck, and in this moment he is a happy man.