Title:  The Wooing
Author:  Kay
Series:  Magnificent Seven
Pairng:  Chris/Ezra
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer:  The Magnificent Seven and the character of the show don't belong
to me in anyway whatsover.  I'm not that lucky.  This story is written for
enjoyment, not for profit.  Again, I'm not that lucky.  Litigation would be a
waste of time, people.  I'm a member of the Starving Student Sect.
Summery:  Ezra loves Chris.  Chris loves Ezra.  (of course)  But Ezra needs a
little reassurance, a little courtship, before he is willing to give his heart
away.
Feedback:  Oh, please.  But be gentle.  This is my first time... <blush>
 

Squinting through the dust and harsh sunlight, Ezra peered around the barrel
he was crouching behind, looking toward the bank.  The tree would-be robbers
inside weren't visible at the moment.  All shooting had ceased; the thieves
were probably conserving their ammunition for the coming siege.  It would be a
long one:  the bank clerk had fled the building, so there were no hostages
involved.
 
Staying low, he quickly moved behind the cover offered by objects in the
street over to where JD was hidden behind a wagon.  "I trust you are unharmed,
Mr. Dunne?" he drawled, checking the you man over sharply from the corner of
his eye.  It wouldn't do to appear too concerned; that could ruin his image of
nonchalant uncaring, and he had put so much effort in maintaining it for the
past twenty years.
 
"Yeah, Ezra, I'm fine."  The young sheriff appeared to be tremendously
excited, but he was also in control of himself.
 
Repressing a smile, the gambler decided that JD would be fine on his own.  "It
appears that our compatriots have retired to the saloon in order to confer.  I
believe I will join them.  I trust you are able to hand the situation alone?"
 
"Go see what they're talkin' about.  I'll be fine.  I'll yell if anything
happens."
 
Ezra nodded, and quickly ducked around the back of the saloon.  A fast glance
before he did so assured him that the building had sustained little or no
damage during the fire fight.  He didn't want his investment to be shot to
pieces before he amassed the funds to purchase it.  As he entered through the
back, he could hear several men speaking in low tones.  The green-eyed man
smiled inwardly.  The other members of the group might be better at woodcraft,
and at the duties of attending to a ranch, but he had grown up in the seamier
sides of cities all over the East, and had learned some skills that served him
well in the West as well.  Experience allowed him to identify the voices:
Nathan, Buck, and Chris.  Vin was likely on the roof, and Josiah was no doubt
somewhere else where he could be of help.
 
He approached silently - another talent picked up when avoiding trouble in
other places.  Ezra never cheated, at least not while playing cards.  He was
too skilled to stoop to that.  That didn't stop disgruntled losers from
accusing him of it, however, and on more than one occasion he had narrowly
avoided ambushes laid by people out for revenge.
 
He could hear Chris clearly first.  "I don't know what those idiots were
thinking, trying to rob our bank in broad daylight."
 
Ezra had to agree.  One would think that thieves would bypass Four Corners,
and its seven guardians, but they didn't.  It was one of the chief reasons he
didn't keep his savings in the bank. What was the point?  It was safer in his
boots, or hidden in his room.
 
The man in black continued.  "Vin's gonna keep them pinned down from the roof.
 Josiah'll stay hidden next door, just in case things get ugly."
 
"JD and Ezra are watchin' from the street," commented Buck.  "I'd best go and
back JD up."
 
Ezra stopped.  That hurt; he knew the big man was protective of their youngest
member, but that he didn't think that Ezra would be there for the kid if
trouble erupted stung.  The gambler reacted to the insult as he always did:
absorb the hurt, and made sure it didn't show.  Besides, if the usual pattern,
held, that insult was only the first.
 
Sure enough, Nathan followed up with, "Get on out there, Buck.  Chris,
someone's go to try to get them to surrender.  It should be you.  If you leave
Ezra out there, he'll just end up provoking them into something dangerous."
 
The casual contempt in his voice was cutting, but what hurt most was the other
two men's reactions.  Buck said nothing, and Chris said, "Yeah, I'd best get
out there."  The easy way in which they accepted Nathan's dismissal of him cut
deepest of all.
 
Scuffing his boots deliberately against the floor, Ezra entered the room with
a sardonic smile and a tip of his hat.  "Gentlemen.  Mr. Dunne and I were
wondering if you had concocted a plan of action which you might be so kind as
to share with us?"
 
Buck threw a disgusted look at him.  "I gotta go check on JD."  He hurried out
of the saloon.
 
Nathan didn't say anything; he didn't have to.  The look in his eyes was
enough.
 
Ezra tried to defend himself.  "The sheriff is behind more than sufficient
cover, and he is qualified to watch the bank."  The twin chilly stare, brown
and blue, that met his protests silenced him.  Retreating behind his image, he
wave his had in the air in a careless gesture.  "He is fine," he reiterated,
but didn't try to push the point further.  He knew it would do no good.
 
Chris left without saying anything more.  Nathan followed him, tossing over
his shoulder, "Why don't you stay in here and guard the whiskey?"  Then they
were gone.
 
Ezra shut his eyes for a moment, rocked by the words.  They were certainly not
the cruelest things anyone had ever said to him, but the southerner had begun
thinking of the other six men as his friends.  They were closest things to it
that he had ever known.  That gave all of their words so much more power over
than him than was usual.  Especially Chris - his lack of words could
completely devastate the gambler.
 
The gunslinger had first capture Ezra's admiration, then his respect, and
finally his heart.  The gambler always knew that he preferred men to women; it
was a part of his nature he acknowledged, but in which he rarely indulged.
While he had felt attraction many times before, this was the first time he had
ever fallen in love.  He wasn't quite sure how to deal with the emotion.
Acting on it certainly wasn't an option.  Chris could barely stand to look at
him as a person; there was no way he could ever look at Ezra as a lover.  So
the green-eyed man did what he always did with inconvenient emotions.  He
ignored it, hoping that it would eventually fade.  The fact that it had
refused to disappear over the past few months wasn't all that reassuring, but
he knew it would in time.  It had to, because he wasn't sure how much longer
he could handle working with the man everyday and seeing the contempt and
dislike in his eyes.
 
Enough self pity.  Ezra shrugged out of his customary red jacket and carefully
folded it over the back of a chair.  It was too warm for the coat, really, but
as it was a part of his southern gentlemen image, he was loathe to abandon it.
 Concealed behind the saloon's doors, he watched as Chris cautiously
approached the bank.  He couldn't hear the man in black's words, but they
didn't appear to be going over well with the cornered thieves.
 
The gambler watched in horror as one of the men in the bank approached the
window and took aim at Chris.  The leader of the seven was too far from cover
to simply jump away.  Thinking quickly, and damning himself for a fool even as
he did so, Ezra stepped out of the saloon, into the sunlight.  He knew his
white shirt would act as a beacon in the bright light.  Sure enough, the
robber altered his aim and fired at Ezra instead.
 
Even as he returned fire, Ezra heard the street erupt into gunfire.  The
bullet from the bank burned along his arm, causing the southerner to swear as
he ducked back into the saloon.  He returned fire from behind the cover of the
doors, and was fairly certain that he dropped one of the thieves.  Soon, all
return fire from the other building ceased.  Seizing the opportunity presented
by the lull, the gambler turned his attention to his right arm.  The shirt was
a dead loss at this point, so he jerked the sleeve off completely.  He could
see that the bullet hadn't done more that cut a deep groove in his bicep.  He
tore a strip from the bottom of his shirt and quickly bandaged his bloody arm.
 He could deal with it later.  He hurriedly hid the bloody sleeve behind the
bar.  He then pulled on his red jacket, and moved back to the door just in
time to be seen lounging there by Vin as he came down the saloon's stairs.
 
"Enjoying the show?" asked the bounty hunter, looking at the gambler's casual
pose.
 
"Very much so, I assure you Mr. Tanner.  I am bitterly disappointed to see
that it seems to be over.  I trust you aquitted yourself well?"
 
"I got one of them, at least.  The other two fell to the boys outside."
 
"Congratulations."  Ezra walked over to the bar.  The bartender was nowhere in
sight, so he moved behind the bar himself and began to set up a row of drinks.
 He knew he could use one; his left arm was on fire.  Playing cards was going
to be devilishly hard for the next few days.  He reflected that it could
always be worse.  It could be his right arm that was injured.
 
"Are you all right?" asked Vin, his voice hesitant.

"I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Tanner, I assure you.  Why on earth do you ask?"  He
carefully poured the whiskey into the shot glasses.  Had the other man seen
something?  He thought he was covering his injury fairly well.
 
"I thought I saw one of them fire in this direction."
 
Damn.  "You must have been mistaken.  I was of course doing my best to
contribute to the fight, but I doubt any of the miscreants inside the back
were able to see me."
 
"That's why you were hiding out in here?" asked Nathan, as he and the other
four men entered.
 
"Mr. Jackson, I was merely following your suggestion.  Would you gentlemen
care for a drink?"  He threw back his whiskey, finishing it as quickly as
possible.  He needed to get away.  He could see that Chris was unhurt,
standing by the bar as impassively as ever.  He surreptitiously tucked the
sleeve further out of sight; he'd have to retrieve it later.  "If you
gentlemen will excuse me, I find that this afternoon's excitement has been a
bit much for my admittedly delicate sensibilities.  If you have no further
need of me?"
 
No one bothered to reply, so he exited the room with a quick tip of his hat.
Once he was upstairs in his room, he removed his jacket.  He pulled off the
tattered remains of his shirt, and set about cleaning himself up.
 
It wasn't that he didn't respect Nathan's abilities as a doctor; in fact, he
thought the other man was a fine healer, considering the conditions under
which he usually worked.  It was more the fact that Ezra couldn't stand the
contempt in the other man's eyes anytime their gazes crossed.  He preferred to
take care of his own wounds rather than face it.  Besides, it wasn't as though
he wasn't accustomed to taking care of himself.  He had been doing so for as
long as he could remember; his mother had always been too preoccupied with the
con games she was running to pay much attention to him.
 
After his arm was roughly bandaged, he lay back on his bed.  Time to catch a
little rest before going down to work in the saloon.  Besides, shirking the
clean up work was just what a lazy, shiftless gambler would do, and he would
hate to disappoint the others.

*~*~*
 
Downstairs, Nathan, Buck, and JD had left to go take care of the bodies of the
former thieves.  The rest of the seven stayed in the saloon, finishing the
drinks Ezra had left for them.
 
Vin was frowning in concentration into his drink, obviously preoccupied with
something.  Brow still furrowed, he moved to stand behind the bar, where he
began to poke around at the shelves.
 
"What are you doing?" asked Chris.
 
"Something's not right.  I know I saw one of the men in the bank fire at the
saloon, and Ezra wasn't acting right."
 
"What was wrong with him?" asked the man in black sharply.
 
"I think...yes!"  The bounty hunter pulled out a bloody strip of cloth.  "I
knew I heard gunfire down here.  The damn fool got shot, and he's hiding it."
 
"Why?  I know he and Nathan have had their differences, but I didn't know it
was so bad that he wouldn't ask for help if he was hurt."  Chris was surprised
by how furious he was.  He always had trouble controlling his emotions where
the gambler was concerned, which is why he tried to avoid the man.  The
thought of him getting hurt, and not having anyone to take care of him was
infuriating to him.  He was torn between running up the stairs and shaking the
green-eyed man, and running up the stairs and caring for his injuries.
 
"Hold on just a moment, Chris," Josiah said quietly.  "Ezra is a private man;
I don't think he has a lot of experience asking people for help.  I get the
feeling that he is used to relying on himself for everything."
 
"That doesn't excuse him for lying to us," Chris said stubbornly.  How could
Ezra do this?  Didn't he know how much he worried Chris whenever he got hurt,
got into any type of trouble?
 
"He probably doesn't think of it as lying," Josiah said, his tone sad.  "You
have to admit that we've always treated him as a bit of an outsider.  I've
gotten over what happened at the Seminole village, but I don't think I've let
him know that.  Hell, Nathan can barely stand the man.  Is it anyone wonder he
doesn't want to trouble us with something like this?"
 
Vin shook his head.  "I don't like this either.  If Ezra can't trust us enough
to tell us when he's hurt, what's gonna happen to him in the future?  He's
gonna get himself killed because he won't ask for help."  He sighed.
"Someone's gonna have to talk to him."
 
Staring at the bloody cloth on the bar, Chris said, "I'll do it."  He had to.
He was the leader of the group, and one of his men was in trouble.  Even if
the man aroused feelings in him he would rather not acknowledge, it was his
duty to try to help him.
 
"That would be best, I think," Josiah agreed.  "I think you and Ezra need to
talk."
 
Chris stared sharply at him.  "What do you mean?"
 
"I try to be a man of God, brother Chris, and God is love.  I try to recognize
Him wherever he may be, or whomever he may be between."
 
"How did you...what are you talking about?"
 
"Chris," Vin interposed, "there is something between you and Ezra.  Both of
you hide it well, but it is there to see for anyone who take the time to
watch.  Each of you are too worried about the other finding out to see what is
right in front of you."
 
The gunslinger glared at his two friends.  "I don't like it when people team
up on me."
 
"We're you're friends, Chris."  Josiah held up his hands placatingly.  "God
knows, I want to be Ezra's friend as well.  What is between you is your own
business, but you need to do something about it.  Now, before we lose Ezra to
whatever demons he carries with him."
 
The man in black poured himself another drink.  Fine.  He was attracted to
Ezra.  That didn't mean he had to do anything about it.  Except now he knew
the other man might feel the same.  He felt a stirring of excitement.  The
thought of those green eyes, turned on him, filled with love and passion
filled him with a warmth that was more than just physical.  "Do you have any
other helpful suggestions?" he asked, not looking up from his drink.
 
"Yeah.  Don't try to talk to him in town.  That'll give him too many chances
to get away from you and avoid the whole deal."  Vin grinned.  "Lord knows,
I've never been able to pin him down for any length of time while in Four
Corners.  Tell him he's going on patrol with you.  Make up a story about
rustlers in the area, or something."
 
Chris nodded.  "I'm gonna do this.  The sooner the better."  He paused.  "How
many people know about us?  Not that there's anything to know yet, but-"
 
"I know what you mean.  I think me and Josiah are the only one's who've
noticed.  Buck's too wrapped up in JD to see anything else, and Nathan doesn't
pay any more attention to Ezra than he absolutely has to.  Your secret's safe
with us.  Not that it has to be a secret."
 
"We're your friends," Josiah added.  "Friends stick with friends."
 
"Thanks.  I mean that."  Chris finished his drink, then glanced at Vin.
"Anything else?"
 
"One more thing.  Go slow.  Take your time.  Too many sudden movements, and
he'll take off.  He's one of the most skittish people I've ever seen."
 
The gunslinger nodded.  "All right, then.  I'm going to do this."  He grinned.
 He was going to do it.  If everything worked out...holding an image of Ezra's
eyes, alight with emotions meant for him alone, Chris headed for the stairs.
 

*~*~*

Lying on his bed, Ezra was completely unprepared for the knock at his door.
"Who is it?" he called, allowing some irritation to bleed into his voice.  He
didn't want to see anyone.  He was too busy feeling maudlin and sorry for
himself to make idle conversation.
 
"It's Chris.  Open the damn door, Ezra.  I need to talk to you."
 
Damn!  Just what he needed:  to be dressed down by the man he was pitying
himself for loving.  It would help to make the day perfect.  Perfectly
miserable, that was.  "Just a moment."  He scrambled off the bed and grabbed a
shirt, and hurriedly pulled it on, concealing his bandaged arm.  He walked
over to the door and cracked it open.  "Mr. Larabee, how may I help you?  I
was attempting to enjoy some relaxation."  He kept his eyes on the other man's
forehead, and did his best to sound bored.
 
The other man looked at him intently, almost as though he was searching for
something in his eyes or his expression.  "You'll have to relax later, Ezra.
Word of rustlers just came in, and it's my and your turn to go on patrol."
 
Perfect.  He knew he never should have gotten out of bed this morning.  "There
must be some sort of error.  I am sure that Mr. Tanner would be delighted to
go and search out these rumored ruffians.  Have you asked him if he would like
to go with you?"
 
"Vin's got things to take care of in town.  Get some stuff together.  We
probably won't be back for a few days."
 
Days?  Ezra wondered how he had managed to anger God so much that he was being
set up for this torture.  Going on patrol with Chris, where the other man
could see how little he knew of roughing it in the wild, and grow to despise
him more.  Wonderful.  He must have committed some grievous sin while he
wasn't paying attention.
 
He tried again to reason with the other man.  "Mr. Larabee-"
 
"Ezra, it's our turn."  The blue-eyed man hesitated for a moment.  "Please,"
he added, in an unusually soft tone.
 
That wasn't fair.  How was Ezra supposed to resist him now?  "Fine, Mr.
Larabee.  I trust you will be gathering the supplies we'll need?"
 
"I'll take care of it.  I'll meet you in the stables in an hour."
 
"One hour, sir.  I'll see you then."
 
The gunslinger hesitated a moment in the doorway, and seemed about to speak,
then turned quickly and walked away.
 
Ezra sighed, and closed the door before collapsing onto his bed, cradling his
head in his hands with his elbows on his knees.  "Whatever I have done to
offend you, Lord, I heartily apologize and I beg your forgiveness," he
murmured.  "If you are feeling especially generous, I have a request."  The
gambler had never had much luck with prayer before, but Josiah seemed so
confident that it could help.  "I would ask that you give me the strength to
get through these next few days, without giving myself away."  There was so
much to hide:  his inexperience outside of civilization, his wounded arm, his
true feelings.  "Help me to make it back alive, without losing any more of
this man's respect."
 
With a sigh, he heaved himself to his feet and began to pack.  At least he
wouldn't have to worry about losing money while gambling because he was
distracted by pain.  Now all he had to worry about was losing his place in
Four Corners, and as a member of the seven.  Hardly anything to be concerned
over.

He hesitated a few moments, then carefully placed a bottle of whiskey in his
pack.  He might need the help to get through the next few days.  If nothing
else, he could use it to keep the gouge in his arm clean.  Crude, but
effective.

He also made sure that he included a sturdy deck of cards in with his things.
He rifled the cards through his fingers briefly, enjoying the feel of stiff
paper scratching across his fingertips.  The cards:  his friends, his
security, his livelihood.  His salvation?  They could be, if they got him
through this excursion alive, with his image intact.

Or maybe he'd get lucky, and there really would be rustlers lurking in the
underbrush.  Getting shot would solve all of his problems.

He groaned.  He knew that he was letting his melancholy thoughts linger too
long when he began to contemplate suicide.  That was going too far.  He
deserved to spend a few nights sleeping on the ground if he was thinking like
that.  He wasn't some adolescent girl, to pine away over love.

Shouldering his pack, he decided to treat the upcoming days as a test of
sorts, an opportunity to see how well he could maintain his carefully
constructed image.  He had been slipping lately - most recently in the saloon,
when Vin almost discovered his injury.  He was getting soft, forgetting all
the lessons that his mother and life had drilled into him throughout his
entire life.  He was letting people get too close, and allowing his own
emotions to cloud his judgment.

It was this friendship business.  He was almost thinking of himself as a real
part of the group, rather than a hanger-on, a man passing through.  Ignore the
fact that he wanted to stay, and to earn the friendship of the men with whom
he worked.  To earn the love-

He shook his head, cutting off his own train of thought.  Why waste more time
wishing over impossibilities?  Locking his door behind him, he headed down the
hall and down the stairs.  Vin, JD, and Buck were sitting by the bar, talking
quietly.

"Hey, Ezra.  Going somewhere?"  JD was still slightly flushed, revealing that
he still had yet to come off of the adrenaline high of the afternoon's gun
battle.

"Astute observation, Mr. Dunne.  Your work as sheriff is doing wonders for
your powers of perception."  He smiled slightly, keeping his tone light so to
remove any possible sting from his words.  It could not hurt to be cordial to
the boy; he was friendly to everyone.  He wouldn't be giving anything away by
teasing him.  Besides, he did not want to incur the wrath of Buck for being
rude to the young man.   "Mr. Larabee has decreed that I must venture forth
into the wilds in search of some rustlers, who will probably prove to be
completely apocryphal."

Vin choked on his drink, and began to cough.  His coughs sounded suspiciously
like smothered laughter.

"Mr. Tanner, did I inadvertently say something to amuse you?"

"No," replied the bounty hunter, his voice slightly hoarse.  "Just swallowed
wrong."

"Mm."  Ezra doubted that, but he didn't have time to pursue the issue.  He had
wasted too much time lost in reverie while packing to do so.  "I will see you
gentlemen upon my return."

"You just watch out for those rustlers, now," Buck cautioned.  The tall man
cast an irritated glance at Vin, who was choking again.  "Keep your eyes open,
and watch Chris's back."

Ezra watched Vin with narrowed eyes, but didn't press the man for an
explanation.  Resisting a sudden mad impulse to tell Buck that he would keep a
close eye on all parts of Chris's anatomy, he replied, "I will certainly do my
best to be of assistance to Mr. Larabee.  I hope you gentlemen have a pleasant
afternoon."  He touched a finger to his hat, and walked over to the stables.

*~*~*

Chris stood in the shadows in the alley beside the saloon, feeling like a
fool.  He didn't want to seem too eager to get going; that could warn the
gambler something was up.  So here he was, lurking in an alley, waiting for
Ezra to walk over to the livery stable so he himself wouldn't get there first
and be seen waiting for him.  He was acting like a kid, mooning over his first
love.

He watched as the man walked across the street, looking out of place in his
immaculate red coat as his boots raised tiny swirls of dust with every step he
took.  The gambler looked completely self-contained, as if nothing could touch
him.  Chris shook his head; that wasn't right.  Ezra had been working and
fighting with the other six men for almost a year now.  He had risked his life
and shed his blood, as recently as this afternoon, for the town and for them.
He should be touched and effected, by the events and people of the town, and
especially by the rest of the seven.

With a rueful grin, he acknowledged that if he was the one to do the majority
of the touching where the gambler was concerned, that would suit him just
fine.  Chris had found other men attractive in the past, both before and after
he had met Sarah, but this was the only time he could recall any emotion
besides lust being a part of the situation.  With what could be love thrown
into the mix, he wasn't quite sure how to proceed.  A quick affair, a few
sweaty hours together wasn't going to be enough.  Hell, it wasn't what he
wanted at all, not completely.  He wanted to hear the gambler laugh, to see
him smile and feel him relax in his arms.  He wanted to know that he make the
other man happy, as well as make him sweat.  He reminded himself of Vin's
words:  go slow.

Waiting a few minutes more, he walked over to the stable, where he had already
stowed his gear.  He entered quietly, and stopped, not wanting to disturb the
scene in front of him.

Ezra was stroking Chaucer's ears, smiling fondly at the horse.  He definitely
thought that he was alone in the stable, or else he never would have allowed
himself to look so unself-aware.  The man in black hardly dared to breathe,
for fear of announcing his presence.

The green eyes were clear, not shuttered or guarded as they usually were.  The
gambler was speaking in a quiet, soothing tone.  "It seems that you and I are
to embark on an adventure of sorts, my friend.  Do me a favor, and try not to
let me make too many mistakes, hmm?  It will be a difficult task, but would
hardly do for such a fine animal as yourself to been seen being ridden by a
common idiot, now, would it?"  He laughed softly at himself.

Chris shook his head.  The obvious insecurities revealed by the other man's
words were something else he would have to address when he had his talk with
gambler.

He watched for a few moments longer, enjoying the sight of Ezra being
completely relaxed.  There was a certain tension missing from his posture, and
his facial expression was open and true.  Chris couldn't recall if he had ever
seen him look like that before.  Of course, he had never spent much time
watching the other man; at least, not consciously studying him.  He now
realized that his gaze often ended up resting on the gambler, as if the
green-eyed man were some sort of magnet for his attention.

Thanks to the close scrutiny he was paying, he realized that the other man was
about to look up a moment before he did, so the gunslinger moved forward, as
if he had just walked in.  "You ready to go, Ezra?"

"As I shall ever be, I suppose."  The gambler sounded slightly flustered; he
was probably worried that Chris had overheard him.

Ignoring it, the man in black led his already-saddled horse out of the stable,
knowing that Ezra would follow him.   After that single incident at the
Seminole village, he had always been able to count on the other man to be
right behind him.  Oh, he might complain and make smart remarks the whole
time, but he would be there.

It was about time that Chris let Ezra know that he realized this, and
appreciated it.  Along with some other information.  Like the way he felt.
Just as soon as he got the man out of town.  Grinning to himself, he mounted
his horse.  He wanted to get this trip started.

*~*~*

Ezra was somewhat confused.  He was the first one to admit that he was no
tracker, but it seemed even to his inexperienced eyes that Chris was not even
looking for signs that rustlers had passed through the area.  He should know;
he spent the entire ride watching the other man as he rode along behind him.
It wasn't often that he could indulge himself like that, and he wasn't going
to allow the opportunity to go to waste.

Chris rode well, easy and relaxed in his customary black.  His hat was pushed
back, giving Ezra a clear view of the strong, handsome features of his face as
he glanced around every so often.  He looked so completely at home out in the
wilderness.  The gambler smiled inwardly.  As at home as he himself looked out
of place, no doubt.

He glanced at the sun hanging low in the sky.  Night would be falling soon,
and he didn't want to spend half the evening fumbling around in the dark
trying to set up camp.  He had managed not to embarrass himself yet, but he
had a suspicion this was because he and Chris had done nothing except ride on
a steady course south.  There had been no deviations to search the brush for
sign, which he believed they should have been doing.  That was the purpose of
the excursion, wasn't it?

He cleared his throat.  "Mr. Larabee, it appears that we are fast running out
of daylight.  If I may suggest that we find a place to camp for the coming
night?"

"Hmm?  Oh.  Good idea, Ezra.  There's a spot just a few more minutes' ride
from here that should be perfect."  The man in front of him paused.  "That is,
if you don't mind going on a little further?"

"Not at all, sir.  I have complete confidence in whatever decision you make."
At least, Ezra would usually follow any suggestion of Chris's, but now he
wasn't so sure.  The other man was acting oddly.  Since when had he ever asked
for Ezra's approval about anything, much less cared about his opinion?

Something was up.  The gambler's instincts were screaming at him that he was
being set up somehow.  Still, he trusted Chris.  The gunslinger might not like
him very much, but Ezra couldn't believe that he would ever hurt him.  He had
too strong of an innate sense of honor to do so, just one more reason the
gambler admired him.  He decided to continue to go along with whatever Chris
was doing, at least for now.  He really didn't want to try to get back to Four
Corners alone in the dark, anyway.  His arm was beginning to throb, and he
just wanted to stop riding.

After a few minutes more of riding, they reached a small stream and a
relatively large clearing, ringed by trees and brush.  A circle of stones to
one side of the area delineating a spot for a fire revealed that it had been
used before as a campsite.

Ezra nodded approvingly.  "A most suitable location, Mr. Larabee."

"Thought you'd be disappointed that there wasn't a hotel waiting for you."

Was that a note of humor in his voice?  Cautiously, he replied in kind.  "Now,
sir, why ever would you think that?  I have a great love for the wonderful
outdoors.  The fresh air, the clear skies, the lack of shelter, the insects,
the dirt..."  He was careful to let the other man see him smile, so he got
that he was joking.  Well, mostly joking.  There was no point in irritating
Chris too much.  Not until he figured out exactly what was going on.

He dismounted quickly, removing all his gear from Chaucer's back.  He took his
time rubbing the horse down.  He didn't really want to help set up camp.
Besides, he enjoyed the repetitive effort required in getting his mount ready
for the night.  In performing the ritual, he knew he was repaying Chaucer for
his service.  The horse enjoyed the rub down, and it wasn't all that often
Ezra was able to purposely make another being happy.

After he finished the slightly drawn out routine, he turned his attention to
Chris.  The other man had a fire going, and was setting a kettle over the
flames to boil water.

Wandering over, Ezra placed his bedroll on the ground, along with one of his
packs.  He asked as he sat down a careful distance away, "It is a trifle late
for coffee, is it not?"

"Not making coffee," answered Chris, paying far more attention to laying out
his bedroll then the task warranted.  "Thought a couple mugs of tea would be
nice.  It's a bit chilly out tonight."  He didn't look at the gambler at all.

Now Ezra was sure something was up.  Chris didn't drink tea often, and he had
never gone out of his way to make it before.  As far has he knew, only he
himself and Josiah regularly drank it.  Pulling out his deck of cards, he
commented hesitantly, "Yes, it is.  Some tea would be most appreciated."  He
paused a moment.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome."  The other man cleared his throat.  "It, uh, should be ready
in a couple minutes."

Ezra nodded, and began to shuffle the cards he held, listening to the
comforting sound of stiff paper cracking against stiff paper.  He swiftly
dealt five standard poker hands, then gathered the cards back to himself and
began to shuffle them again.  He quickly shifted the cards until they were in
order according to suit.  He then began to shuffle again, but this time he
tracked specific cards as they moved through the deck; quite a feat, since the
deck was unmarked.  He dealt himself a hand with the cards he had been keeping
track of:  perfect.  He never cheated while playing for money, but that didn't
mean he didn't know how.

All the manipulations were done without any real attention or conscious
thought.  Instead, he let his thoughts focus on two things:  the man sitting
across the fire from him, and what the true purpose of this trip was.  The
best guess that he could come up with was that there was something Chris
wanted to talk to him about, and that he didn't want to do it in front of the
others.  Perhaps he was going to receive a lecture, after all, and the
gunslinger was doing him the kindness of doing it where there would be no
audience.

"Ezra?"  Chris's voice broke into his reverie.

"Yes, Mr. Larabee?"  He didn't look up, keeping all his attention on the cards
in front of him.

"Ezra?"

Was Chris's voice nervous?  The gambler looked up, and was immediately caught
by an intense blue stare.

*~*~*

Chris held Ezra's eyes for several moments before speaking.  He had been
trying to get the other man's attention away form the cards he was playing
with, but he hadn't been expecting him to meet his gaze so directly, so
suddenly.

He licked his lips out of nervousness, and was amused and a little aroused to
see the gambler's eyes immediately drop to his mouth.  Keeping his voice
neutral, he said, "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Ezra looked away from him at once, back down to the cards.  "Mr. Larabee, I
can guess what this is concerning.  Please allow me to assure you that I was
attempting to return fire from in the saloon, regardless of my words to Mr.
Jackson."  He paused.  "I gave you my word that I would not run out on you
again, sir, and I mean to honor my promise."

Chris was distracted by the gambler's actions.  Those strong, graceful
fingers, manipulating the cards with complete mastery and skill.  The way they
moved, so quickly and with such confidence.

He forced himself to look away, to focus again on Ezra's face, which was
turned away from him.  "What?  No, no that's not it at all.  Damn it, Ezra, I
know that wherever you are, you are trying to help."  The other man looked up
in surprise, but he kept on going.  "See, that's one of the things I need to
tell you.  I...I trust you to be there in a fight, like I know I can count on
Buck or Vin to back me up."

The shock (and was that hope as well?) on the gambler's face quickly became
suspicion.  "Mr. Larabee, I don't know what to say.  Might I ask what has
prompted this declaration?"  He obviously didn't intend to take what he had
heard at face value.

Chris swore inwardly.  Words had never been his strong point, and here he was,
trying to use them with a man who could manipulate them as well as he could
control the cards in his deck.

"A couple different things, actually.  Starting with your arm."

"Which arm?  As you can plainly see, sir, I have two."  Chris could hear the
tension under the sarcasm.

The water in the pot had begun to boil, so he began to prepare the tea as he
spoke.  It always seemed to help him talk if he could do something with his
hands at the same time.  "Vin found your sleeve, Ezra, so don't try to bluff
your way out of this.  I know you got hurt today.  I'm guessing it's not
serious, since you've covered it so well.  Why didn't you go to Nathan?"

"As you so astutely deduced, the wound is minor, hardly worthy of Mr.
Jackson's time or attention."  Ezra smiled and shrugged, as if to prove his
words by not wincing at the motion.

"All the same, I'd like to take a look at it.  To ease my mind, like."

"It is quite chilly tonight, as you yourself observed.  I would prefer to
remain fully clothed, if it is all the same to you."

Chris shook his head.  "Sorry, it's not."  He picked up the two steaming mugs,
and moved so that he was sitting directly beside the other man.  "If I know
you, you've got a bottle of whiskey in that there pack.  Why don't you pull it
out, and you can put a slug in the tea, and then I can see about using it on
your arm.  The tea'll help keep you warm while I'm checking it out."

The green-eyed man began to protest again, when Chris remembered something
that had seemed to work well that afternoon.  "Please, Ezra?  I really want to
be sure you're all right.  I won't take long, I promise."

Apparently 'please' really was the magik word, because Ezra stripped off his
coat and began to pull off his shirt.  Of course, he complained the entire
time, but the gunslinger expected nothing less.

He caught his breath and stared for a moment.  Ezra must have been doing
something physical while no one else was looking, or else those cards of his
were a lot more effort to deal than they appeared.  For a man who seemed to do
nothing except gamble and drink, he had a surprisingly well-defined chest and
muscled arms.  Chris watched, enraptured, as the other man twisted to open his
pack and pull out the bottle of whiskey, as well as a few strips of cloth.

"If you could pick up the pace of your examination, Mr. Larabee, I would be
most appreciative."  His voice was tight with tension.

Chris shook himself, and took the whiskey and bandages.  He poured a shot of
the alcohol into the tea, enough to cool the steaming liquid so it was
drinkable.  "Drink this, it'll help."  He handed the mug to him, then quickly
unwound the clumsily tied bandages on the other man's arm.  As Ezra had said,
the injury wasn't too serious, but it looked like it hurt like the devil.  It
also looked a little too red for the gunslinger's comfort.

"Damn it, Ezra, this looks like it might be on its way to getting infected."
He watched the other man jump and steadfastly look away, and regretted the
harsh words.  Softening his tone, he continued.  "I told you, I count on you
to be there when I need you.  I don't want to see you sick because of
something like this."  He wiped down the wound with the alcohol, swearing to
himself that he would drag Ezra to Nathan as soon as they got back to Four
Corners, just to be safe.  He bound the wound carefully, not wanting to add to
the smaller man's pain.  When he was finished, he left one hand on Ezra's arm,
feeling the smooth, warm skin that was beginning to cool in the night air.

The gambler turned to look at him directly.  "Is something amiss?"  The
firelight played over his face, turning his quizzical expression into
something mysterious.  Strange.  Exciting.

Chris moved his hand to the smaller man's cheek, and leaned forward.  He
gently kissed his lips once.  Twice.  The third time, he ran his tongue across
the gambler's lower lip.  With an involuntary moan, Ezra's mouth opened under
his.  For endless minutes, Chris was completely immersed in the feel of the
other man's, in the taste of him and the wet glide of tongue against tongue.

All that ended as he was violently shoved away.  He opened his eyes to see
Ezra pulling on his shirt with lightening speed.

"Exactly what the hell do you think you are doing?" demanded the green-eyed
man, his face flushed, his tone furious.  "What the hell?"  He got to his feet
and began to back away with his eyes narrowed.  "This is some sort of joke,
isn't it?  Mr. Wilmington is lurking somewhere in the bushes, laughing himself
sick now, no doubt."  He shook his  head in disgust, his expression angry and
hurt.  He grabbed his things and walked over to his saddle, obviously
preparing to mount up and leave.

Damn it all to hell!  Chris had completely ignored his friends' advice, and
had just rushed ahead with what he wanted, instead of moving slowly.  He had
given Ezra no warning, no explanation for his actions, and now the other man
apparently believed he was the victim of some sort of practical joke.  Had he
just ruined everything?

No!  "Ezra!  Please wait.  Give me the chance to explain."  He couldn't let it
end like this.  "Please?"  He put as much longing and remorse as he could into
his voice, and prayed that it would be enough to stop the other man.

Ezra  paused, lips clamped tightly together.  He wanted nothing more than to
leave, to saddle Chaucer and be gone.  He wasn't sure that he would even
return to Four Corners, save to retrieve his things and be on his way.  What
was going on?

He had been concentrating so hard on the feel of Chris's callused hands
brushing against his bare skin, surprised by the care and gentleness in his
touch as he tended to his arm.  He was also trying to be sure that the other
man didn't notice his reaction to the touches.  He knew his shivers could be
attributed to the cold, but the temperature wouldn't explain his quickened
breaths or racing heart.

Then, it was as if he had slipped out of reality and into one of his favorite
day dreams, the one where he and Chris were alone, and the blue-eyed man
returned his love.  The kiss hadn't been like the ones he usually imagined; it
was far more gentle then he had ever expected.  The heat, and the taste were
wonderful and arousing beyond the details any of his most treasured fantasies,
and he had completely given himself over to the sensations that overwhelmed
him.

It was the twinge in his arm that alerted him to the fact that he wasn't
indulging in one of his many visualizations.  He never imagined that sort of
pain in his day dreams.  Once he realized that he was actually kissing Chris,
he had immediately pulled away, and pushed the man in black as far from him as
he had been able in his state of shock.

He didn't understand why he had kissed him.  The only explanation that came to
him was that this was a practical joke.  Chris would never be so cruel as to
tease him about his feelings; Ezra was sure of this.  Besides, he had hidden
his emotions too well for the other man to know about them.  At least, he
hoped and prayed that he had.

Every instinct within him told him to leave.  If experience had taught him
nothing else, it was to know when life was about to kick him in the teeth.
Again.  All his reasons for running were over-ruled by Chris's voice, by his
plea.  Damn him.  Why couldn't he just laugh, so Ezra could break, and flee?

Without turning around, he asked as evenly as he could, "What do you want, Mr.
Larabee?"

"Ezra, please.  Don't go.  Come back."

He shook his head.  "You have one minute to convince me to stay, sir.
Starting now."  He really didn't expect a response to his ultimatum.  Words
had never been the other man's strong point.  He was surprised, therefore,
when a gentle hand landed hesitantly on his shoulder.

He flinched violently away, and held his saddle up as a shield before him.  "I
told you to start talking.  If you don't have anything to say, then I'll be on
my way."

Chris raised his hands in a gesture of peace offering.  "I will talk.  Just
come back over to the fire.  This'll take longer than a minute."  He eyes met
Ezra's, sincere and pleading.  "Let me explain.  Please."

The gunslinger must have figured out that he couldn't say no to him, not if
asked correctly.  With an irritated sigh, he placed his things back on the
ground.  "Very well," he replied, pulling on his jacket.  He moved back to
where he had been sitting.  When Chris began to sit down beside him, he shook
his head.  "Other side of the fire, Mr. Larabee, or else I will be on my way
back to town."  Ezra cursed himself for a fool.  He knew that the other man's
explanation wasn't going to be the one he wanted to hear, so why put himself
through this?

The man in black sat down reluctantly a few feet away.  It wasn't across the
fire, but Ezra wasn't going to fight with him over it.  They had more
important things to talk about.  If Chris would ever start talking.  The other
man was just sitting there, his eyes locked on the gambler's face.

"Mr. Larabee?"

"I'm trying, Ezra.  Just give me a moment."  He looked down for a moment, then
back up at the green-eyed man.  "This isn't about some sort of joke.  There's
no one else here, just you and me."

"Then why?"  He couldn't finish the question.  Not out loud, in front of the
man who held his heart in his hands, albeit unknowingly.

"Because I wanted to," the gunslinger replied.  "Because when I saw you
sitting there, in the light from the fire and the shadows, I couldn't help
myself."  He reached out to Ezra, a move that died as the gambler scooted
farther away.

The green-eyed man shook his head.  "Might I remind you have seen me by
firelight before, Mr. Larabee, and you were able to control yourself admirably
then."  He wanted to believe the words, but he couldn't it.  The very fact
that Chris had said them caused him to doubt his sanity - or his state of
wakefulness.  Perhaps this was a dream after all.  He crossed his arms, and
surreptitiously put pressure on his upper left arm.

Damn, but that hurt.  He was must be awake.  That meant that the next most
likely scenario was that he was insane.  The other man spoke, interrupting his
confused thoughts.

"Yeah, I've seen you before, but that was before I admitted to myself what I
was feeling for you."  Chris paused, obviously struggling with the words.  He
reached out and picked up the deck of cards Ezra had abandoned in his rush to
retreat from the camp.  He slowly began to rifle them through his hands, with
the care of one unfamiliar with the action.  "When I found out that you were
hurt, and you didn't tell anyone, I wanted to rush up to your room and check
on you, make sure you were all right and do anything I could to help you."  He
smiled crookedly.  "That, or kill you myself for scaring me, but I'd miss you
too much to do it."

The gambler shook his head in surprise, but he returned the smile minutely.
"I still don't quite understand."

"Getting so upset over you being hurt made me wonder why it shook me up so
bad.  I mean, I don't like it when the others are injured, but I take it
personal when you do.  That got me to thinking, along with some things Josiah
said to me.  I realized that I never want you to be hurt because I'm in love
with you."  He swallowed visibly.  "As in love with you as you are with me, I
think."

Ezra stared at him.  There it was, the declaration he had been waiting for,
for what was beginning to feel like forever.  Everything he had been hoping
for and wishing over, laid out in front of him like a precious gift.  He felt
a great rush of joy well up within him, a mix of happiness and hope and
relief.

Then reality crashed in on him as he remembered who he was, and the rules that
life had drilled into him.  Looking directly at the other man, he shook his
head firmly.

"No."

*~*~*

Chris stopped fidgeting with the cards, fingers stilled by shock losing their
grip on them.  He had barely managed to get the get the words out, but he had
done it.  Of all the responses he had been expecting to his words, flat denial
of them wasn't one of them.  "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean exactly what I said.  You are confused, sir, and come tomorrow morning
you will thank me for being the one to keep my head."

"What are you talking about?"

The gambler sighed, staring resolutely into the flames.  "Mr. Larabee, you are
the leader of our small group, and you do a commendable job.  As the months
have passed, you have no doubt come to feel a great deal of responsibility
toward the rest of us, as your men.  A man with a such a strong sense of honor
as yourself could hardly help himself.  Things have been relatively peaceful
in Four Corners for the past few weeks.  My injury is the first to befall any
of us in quite some time.  You are no doubt feeling guilty, for no reason,
might I add.  You have confused guilt and relief that I am not badly hurt for
love."  His tone was matter-of-fact, but his voice was far from steady.

"Ezra-"

"Please let me finish, sir.  I am not certain how Mr. Sanchez discovered the
feelings I have developed for you, or why he told you about them, but he
should not have.  In your confusion, you have decided that you must love me in
return, because that will explain what you are feeling now."  He smile
painfully.  "It is not that difficult to understand.  You will agree with me
when you wake tomorrow, and thank you from making a grievous mistake that you
will no doubt bitterly regret."

"Damn it Ezra, you're not listening to me.  I love you.  Why do you think I
kissed you?"

The other man cleared his throat uncomfortably.  "Please don't take offense at
this, but have you ever experienced such interest in another man, and acted
upon it?"

Chris flushed.  "Yeah.  It's been awhile, but yeah."

Ezra laughed shortly, a sound devoid of amusement.  "There is your answer,
then, Mr. Larabee.  I am aware that I am not unattractive.  When you put that
together with what you are feeling now, and what you have learned about me,
your reaction is entirely understandable."  He paused, refusing to look over
at the gunslinger.  "I feel that I should let you know that my emotions should
cause you no concern.  I have no intention whatsoever of acting upon them, and
I am sure they will soon fade and pass.  If you could conveniently forget what
Mr. Sanchez told you, I am sure that we will be able to put this incident
behind us."

Chris shook his head in frustration.  "I don't want to forget tonight, or what
I've said.  I'm a grown man, Ezra.  I've been in love; I know what it feels
like.  This isn't guilt or relief or anything else.  It's love, Ezra, and I'm
in love with you."  He moved over closer to the smaller man, who to his relief
didn't try to back away again.  Staring earnestly into his face, he asked,
"Why can't you believe me?"

The green-eyed man swallowed hard and shook his head negatively.

"Please, Ezra.  Tell me."

"How can I believe you?  Mr. Larabee, you don't even respect me, much less
like me.  How can you be in love with me?"

Chris stared at him.  Not like him?  Why did Ezra think that?  Sure, he didn't
spend as much time with him as the other men, but he and Buck went way back,
and he and Vin had so much in common that they just naturally found themselves
together.  He didn't spend much time in the saloon, where the gambler could
usually be found.  That couldn't be enough to convince the other man that he
didn't like him, could it?

He groaned.  Of course it could be.  One of the reasons he had wanted to talk
to Ezra was to explain to him that he had more than compensated for his
actions when they first met.  He needed to do so because the green-eyed man
still though his position as tenuous with the seven, with him, as it had been
in his first weeks, else he never would have tried to hide his injury.

In his rush to tell the gambler how he felt, he had completely forgotten to
tell the other man that in any more than passing, and to be sure that he
believed it.  His advances and his words must have seemed like they were
coming completely out of nowhere to the gambler.  No wonder he wasn't willing
to believe what he heard.

He should have remembered Vin's advice.  He had managed to stop the other man
from leaving altogether, but he was clearly uncomfortable about staying.  He
needed to fix this, and fast.  But how?

"What will it take to convince you?"

Ezra flicked a lightning fast glance at him.  "I don't that you will be able
to, sir.  You may have temporarily lost your mind, but that does not mean that
I am going to join you in your insanity.  You will thank me for it, probably
as soon as we get back to town."  His lips were twisted into a bitter parody
of a smile.  "As soon as you realize how close you came to having to face your
friends and tell them that you loved me, you will understand, and be
grateful."

"It's a little late for that, considering that Josiah and Vin already know."

The gambler was startled into facing him.  He stared for long minutes before
speaking.  "Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Larabee.  Perhaps you will be able to pass it
off as a joke.  After all, if I don't believe you, then why should they?  I am
sure the situation is salvageable."

Chris held the other man's gaze with his own, trying desperately to read the
green eyes.  He saw hope lurking in their depths, which fueled the hope he
himself felt.  Ezra wanted to believe him, he could tell.  Hearing that Chris
had already told people had prompted the biggest response he had gotten from
the man so far.  All right.  He could work with that.

"They believed me, Ezra.  They're the ones who helped me to convince myself to
tell you how I feel."

"Then perhaps it is you, sir, who has been the target of a joke.  Although
this is the sort of humor I would expect Mr. Wilmington to devote time and
effort to, rather than the other two gentlemen."

Time and effort....With a sudden burst of inspiration, Chris knew how he could
convince the gambler of his sincerity, and get him to accept his declaration
of love.  "It's no joke.  Not to them, and not to me.  And I'm gonna prove it
to you."

He didn't give the other man a chance to again profess his doubt.  Moving
slowly, he leaned forward and carefully took one of Ezra's hands in both of
his.  "Ezra Standish, I have fallen in love with you.  May I have your
permission to court you?"

"What?"

Chris refused to relinquish his hold on the other man's hand.  "I told you I'm
gonna convince you I'm telling the truth.  When we get back to Four Corners,
I'm gonna woo you, until you believe me and tell me you love me too."

Ezra stared at Chris, stunned into immobility.  He wanted to court him?  Where
had this come from?  He was more confused then before.  The gunslinger seemed
so sure of himself, of his emotions, that he wanted to believe him.  That was
the thing that scared him:  how badly he wanted to be able to believe that the
other man was telling the truth.

But Ezra knew how things worked in his world.  The moment that he let himself
hope, then everything would just come crashing down on him.  Every time when
as a child he thought his mother might stay with him, or take him with her on
what she called her "grand adventures", he was disappointed.  He usually ended
up the unwilling guest of unwilling hosts, ignored and put up with until his
mother again returned.  That was the first, and hardest, time he had learning
how the world worked.  Other lessons had come in time, taught by the friends
who abandoned him when his lucked turned and the money ran out, and the lovers
who had never cared enough about him to stay.

He wanted to believe, but he couldn't let himself.  He took refuge in anger
once again.  "You want to court me?  Do I look like a woman to you, Mr.
Larabee?  A southern belle awaiting a suitor?"  He tried to pull his hand
away, but to no avail.

The other man didn't react as he thought he would.  Instead of getting angry,
he just smiled and shook his head.  "No, I am very aware that you are a man.
A handsome, intelligent man, who is too stubborn to accept what I am saying to
him.  You're no woman, Ezra, although you're a site more contrary than any
woman I ever met.  That's where the courting comes in.  I don't know how else
to convince you that I mean what I say."

Ezra continued to stare at him, rendered speechless by the light in the other
man's eyes.  The gambler made his living reading other people, learning to
tell how a man was feeling, no matter how he tried to hide it.  All his
experience told him that Chris was entirely sincere, at least at this moment.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Chris didn't give him a chance.

"It's late.  I think I'm ready to turn in.  How 'bout you?"  He chafed the
gambler's hand gently within his own.  "It's getting colder.  Did you bring
enough blankets?"

Ezra began to sway toward him involuntarily.  When he caught his own actions,
he pulled himself back abruptly, but didn't try to again free his hand.  "I
assure you, sir, that I have adequate bedding for the temperature.  I agree
that going to bed would be a good idea.  The sooner we sleep, the sooner this
day will be over."

Chris nodded.  "The sooner tomorrow will come, and I can prove to you how I
feel."  He didn't release the green-eyed man's hand; instead, he turned it
over within his grasp and began to massage the palm with his thumb.  "I'd like
to kiss you goodnight," he said softly, holding the other man's gaze with his
own.

Ezra licked his lips, but shook his head.  "I am afraid that the kiss you
stole earlier will have to suffice, Mr. Larabee.  I am a gentleman, and have
certain standards to uphold.  Why, you have yet to even buy me dinner!"  He
smiled at the other man, hoping his joke would cover how much the soft
kneading of his hand was effecting him.

Chris smiled in return, but still maintained his hold on the long-fingered
hand.  Lifting it, he brushed a quick kiss across the sensitize palm, then let
it go.  "Goodnight, then.  Pleasant dreams."  He moved over to where his
bedroll lay and began to prepare for sleep.

Ezra stared after him, his hand curled into a fist, as though trying to hold
onto the elusive kiss that had barely touched it.  He came back to himself
after a moment, and cleared his throat.  "Pleasant dreams," he echoed, then
turned his attention to his own nightly ritual.

The next morning, the gambler lay in his blankets, contemplating the events of
the night before.  He was reluctant to rise, fearing that the new day would
prove his doubts to be true, and that the other man would be there, red-faced
with embarrassment, begging him not to tell anyone about his words.
 
Finally, he decided he couldn't hide beneath his blankets any longer.  He
lifted a corner, and peered cautiously around the campsite.  The gunslinger
was nowhere to be seen.

Momentarily alarmed, Ezra sat up quickly.  His head free of the blankets, he
was able to hear splashing coming from the stream.  That explained the other
man's absence, then.  With a muffled groan, he pulled himself free of his
bedding.  He quickly gathered his things together, because a man should always
ready for a hasty departure.  That done, he poured himself a cup of the
waiting coffee, and looked off toward the stream.

He forgot entirely about the mug in his hand as he watched Chris.  Bare to the
waist, the other man was taking advantage of the water for a quick wash,
despite the cold temperature.  Crouching on the bank, he was splashing water
up, and over the back of his neck, to run down through the hair of his hanging
head.

The gambler's mouth went dry.  He didn't even realize that he was staring
until the other man looked up and caught his gaze.  Chris smiled, and Ezra
returned it without thought, until he realized who he was staring at, and that
the gunslinger would know why.

Flushing, he turned away, and took a sip of his too-hot coffee.  He spat out
the burning liquid with a curse.

Footsteps behind him warned him a moment before the blue-eyed man spoke.  "Is
there something wrong with the coffee?  I tried not to make it too strong, I
know you don't like it like that."

"The coffee is fine.  I was a little to hasty in my imbibing of it, that is
all, Mr. Larabee."

"Ezra, do you think you could call me Chris?"  His voice was plaintive.

Never having heard that tone form the gunslinger before, Ezra turned to face
him, and watched as he pulled on a shirt.  "Mr. Larabee, I would never presume
to be so familiar-"

"But I want you to be, Ezra.  It's an awkward thing to call the person who
loves you, isn't it?"  He raised his eyebrows a took a step closer.

"Mr. Larabee-"

"Chris.  It's not a hard name.  Hell, even Buck can handle it."

Ezra had to smile at that.  "No, it is not a difficult name.  Habit are hard
to break, however."  He felt a little burst of elation.  The gunslinger was
apparently going to carry through with his campaign, after all.  He didn't
allow himself to hope.  Well, not too much anymore.

"I'll just have to make sure that you get plenty of practice using it, then."

For the rest of the morning, the other man was unusually solicitous and
talkative.  Ezra wasn't quite sure how to handle it; he was used to being the
one to make conversation, and be ignored by the man in black.  He didn't know
how to act now that their roles had been reversed.  In the end, he decided to
just go with the flow for the time being.  He was fairly good at that.

He was disappointed when the other man made no more physical moves toward him.
 Instead, the gunslinger kept a firm distance between them, as if respecting
some boundary that had been set.  Ezra knew that he had been the one to make
the other man back off, but he was deflated all the same.  The touches last
night had been electrifying, and he found that his eyes began to glaze over if
he thought too intently about the kiss they had shared.

As soon as Four Corners came into sight, the gambler began to wait for Chris
to fall back into his former mode of behavior.  To his surprise, the other man
continued to make conversation as he rode deliberately beside him.

Once in town, Ezra quickly settled Chaucer back into the livery stable,
although he didn't skimp on the usual grooming ritual for the horse.  After he
had put the curry comb away, he leaned against the animal for a moment, and
murmured, "Old friend, I do believe that you may the only one of use who did
not lose his mind on this trip."  With a final fond scratch to Chaucer's ears,
he left the stable and headed over to the saloon.

Josiah was inside, sitting at a table with Nathan and talking.  The
conversation ended as the gambler entered.  "Ezra!" exclaimed the big man.  "I
didn't expect to see you back so soon.  Is everything all right?"

Ezra cast a rueful glare at the other man.  "Everything is fine, Mr. Sanchez.
Surprisingly, we found no sign of the rumored rustlers, so we have returned.
In all, it was an uneventful, fruitless trip."  He kept his tone light, and
careless.  He knew that Josiah was hoping to hear something different, but the
gambler wasn't going to oblige him.  While he was grateful to know that the
older man cared about him, he really didn't appreciate having other people
interfere with his life.  Even if his interference had brought Ezra closer to
seeing his dream come true than ever before.

The preacher looked somewhat disconcerted.  "So Chris came back as well,
then?"

"Oh yes, of course.  What, did you think Mr. Larabee and I had a falling out,
or some such unpleasant incident?"  He laughed, and grinned honestly to see
the other man squirm with discomfort.  He tipped his hat, toward them, and
headed up the stairs.

*~*~*

Chris grinned to himself as he walked over to the saloon.  He could tell that
Ezra had been extremely confused by his actions today, and he was enjoying
keeping the other man off balance.  So long as the gambler was unsure of
himself, Chris could maintain some control over the situation, which he needed
to do if he was ever going to make the other man believe that he was sincere.

He was somewhat surprised to discover that he enjoyed talking to the
green-eyed man.  Usually he thought of conversation as a chore, an unnecessary
act that people used to fill time.  Talking with Ezra was different; the other
man had a sly wit, and some truly good insights.  He found himself opening up
a bit to the other man.  At first this had taken conscious effort, but soon he
realized that it got easier with time.

In all, he felt that the beginning of his campaign was a success.  The gambler
still called him "Mr. Larabee", but he was no longer insisting that Chris was
either part of an elaborate conspiracy, or insane.  He knew things weren't
going to be as easy as he had hoped, but now he was sure that his plan would
work in the end.  As big a show of aloofness as he was putting up,  Ezra was
just as obviously wanting to believe in him.  He just need a bit of a push, a
little more proof, which the gunslinger would be more than happy to provide.

As he entered the saloon, he could hear two men speaking.  Nathan and Josiah
were sitting at a table in one corner, talking intently.  He walked over
quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

"I don't like it," Nathan was saying.  "We should probably go and check on
Chris."

"I'm sure he's fine.  Ezra didn't mean anything by what he said."

"Yeah, then why are you so upset?  Damn it, I didn't like it when I heard that
Chris was taking that no-account with him to go search for sign.  What use
could he be anyway?  Chris has got to be crazy, thinking that he can trust
him."

"Well, I don't know about that," Chris drawled, as he stepped closer to the
table.

The two men jerked and looked up in surprise.  "Chris!  So you are back.  I
take it you didn't have any luck?"  Josiah was hinting carefully, trying to
sound him out about the trip.

"I wouldn't say that."

"Ezra said that you didn't find any sign," Nathan objected.  "Not that I
believed him."

"I don't know why you wouldn't.  The man may be a card sharp, but he has never
outright lied to us before."  Chris had heard all of this before.  Hell, he
had even agreed with the other man at one time.  Not anymore.  Not after
having stopped and taken a good look at the past, and the rest of Ezra's
actions since their first trial by fire together.

"Back at the Seminole village-"

"Ezra made a mistake, Nathan.  All men make mistakes.  He's been trying to
make up for it ever since, and he's done a damn fine job of it."  He knew he
was coming across too vehemently, but he couldn't help it.  Not now, when he
knew how deeply Ezra felt every criticism, how keenly every doubt could cut
him.

"So besides not finding any rustlers, the trip went well?" Josiah cut in,
trying to head off an argument.

"As well as can be expected.  What is it people say?  Rome wasn't built in a
day."  He shrugged.  "You've got to wait and work for anything worth having.
I guess I've got it to do."  He smiled a little.  "Thanks for your advice,
friend.  You were right."

"Of course I was."  The big man grinned hugely.  "I think I'm going to go work
on the church some more.  God is working his way toward a miracle, and I would
like to show Him my appreciation."  He pushed back his chair and was gone.

Nathan shook his head.  "I don't understand any of this."

Chris took pity on him.  "Look, this is mostly between Ezra and me.  I'll let
you know more about it when we're ready to tell you, all right?"

"I guess it'll have to be, won't it?"

A soft sound from the stairs distracted them.  Ezra soon appeared, dressed in
new clothing and looking freshly washed.  He paused for a moment when he saw
Chris, than gathered his thoughts together and stepped the rest of the way
into the saloon.

"Mr. Larabee, did you by any chance pack away my deck of playing cards amongst
your belongings?  I seem to have misplaced them."

"I think I might have.  I'll go check for you."

"There is no need to do so right now, sir.  I certainly have other decks."

Chris shook his head.  He wanted to press the other man about using his first
name, but knew better than to do so in front of other people.  That was a sure
way to get the other man to bolt.  An idle thought occurred to him.  Why was
the gambler so dependent on cards?  Sure, he used them to earn his living, but
he was never without them, even when there was no chance of initiating a game.
 The gunslinger resolved to ask the other man about it the next chance he got.
 

Which would be soon, if he had any say in the matter.  He wanted to talk to
Vin first, and get a little more advice before he put his plan for tonight
into action.  Staring at the other man, resplendent in a vest and white
shirtsleeves, he grinned.  The other man returned his smile, a bit
uncertainly.

Oh yeah.  This was going to be a challenge.  But the prize was one he was
willing to do just about anything to win.

And he was going to make damn sure that both of them had a good time in the
process.

*~*~*

Ezra watched as the man in black left the saloon, not moving until he was out
of sight.  He was struggling to keep his face in its usual mask of amusement,
instead of settling into an expression of amazed gratitude.  He had seen Chris
come into the saloon from his window, and had hurried down the stairs as
quickly as he could, yet stayed silent, so the men in the saloon would not
know of his presence.  He wasn't sure what he had been expecting to hear, but
he had wanted to know what the gunslinger had to say to Josiah about the
events of the trip.

He had done his best to ignore Nathan's words about him; they were nothing
new.  What was new was Chris's reaction.  Instead of ignoring the words, and
implicitly agreeing with them, the gunslinger had instead defended him.  He
had repeated the same sentiments that he had expressed to the gambler when
they were alone, only now he was in front of other people, with no way of
knowing that Ezra could hear him.

Against his will, he was beginning to believe in Chris.  He wasn't quite ready
to trust in his declarations of love, but he now knew that the other man was
sincere in his statement of trust.  Why else would he be standing up on Ezra's
behalf?

He didn't reveal himself to Chris.  He didn't have any idea of what to say to
the other man, so he just pretended as if he hadn't heard, and kept all
elation out of his voice when he spoke to him.

Now that the gunslinger was gone, he turned his attention to the healer, as he
was the only person besides the bartender left in the saloon.  "Mr. Jackson,
is there any chance that I can interest you into in a game of chance, to pass
the time?"  He question was a bluff; his arm was beginning to ache again, and
he wasn't up to covering it while playing cards.

"No, sorry.  I've got actual work to do today."  He pushed back from the table
and stood.

"The offer stands, sir, for any time that you have free."  He smiled and
spread his arms in invitation.  While he and the other man didn't get along,
he truly did respect him.  He doubted they could ever really be friends, but
it would be nice if they could be something less then enemies.

The healer shook his head.  "Maybe later, but don't count on it."  He left
without a backward glance.

Ezra sighed.  He had tried.  Looking at the empty saloon, he shook his head.
There was no point in staying downstairs, so after a nod toward the bartender,
he went back upstairs to finish unpacking.

Hours later, evening had fallen, and Ezra had run out of excuses for staying
in his room.  There was nothing left to be cleaned, no long neglected letters
to reply to, no weapon that hadn't been checked and cleaned.

He admitted to himself that he was reluctant to go down and have to face
Chris.  He didn't like not knowing what to expect, and the gunslinger had been
confounding his expectations so much that he no longer knew what to think.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror.  His red coat was free of wrinkles
and dust, and every article of clothing was perfectly in place.  For a moment,
he looked at himself.  Nothing about him had changed, not that he could see.
His hair was the same golden color it had always been, his eyes the same
green.  His face was the same.  He gave himself a carefully practiced smile.
Good, that looked as good as it always had.  He had been a bit worried that
his inner turmoil might be showing, and was relieved to know that it wasn't
visible.

He nodded at his reflection, and even threw a wink at himself.

He couldn't put it off any longer.  Catching up one of his many decks of
cards, he left his room, locking as always behind him.

The saloon was far livelier than it had been that afternoon, with men lining
the bar and filling the tables.  The table where Ezra customarily held court
was empty, which was rare.  Usually, there were people waiting for him to
arrive, so they could try to win some of their money back from him, lost in
previous games.

Head cocked to one side, he walked over to the table, after nodding to the
bartender to signal his desire for a drink.  The reason why the table was
empty immediately was made clear to him.  It was covered in wildflowers of
every color, spread over the table's top in a beautiful blanket of petals.  At
the chair where Ezra customarily sat, two roses were placed on the right arm
rest, white and red, their stems intertwined.

It appeared that Chris's campaign had begun.

The gambler shook his head, and began to carefully clear the table of its
floral covering, placing the wildflowers on one chair.  The roses he placed on
the table beside his deck of cards.  He hoped that no one approached him right
away about a game; he was too distracted to play with any skill.

It wasn't the flowers themselves that were effecting him so much, causing the
fluttering in his stomach, or the constant twitching at the corners of him
mouth from the smile that refused to be suppressed.  He had never been a huge
fan of flowers; they were pretty, and he could appreciate their scent, but
other than that he was fairly ambivalent towards them.

The thought and effort that Chris must have put into the gathering of them and
arranging of them on the table were what moved him.  The gunslinger must have
spent a good hour just in the picking of them, not too mention the difficulty
in transporting them to the saloon, and laying them on the table.  Ezra wasn't
even sure where he had gotten the roses from.

Touching the petals gently, he wondered if Chris had understood the
significance in the colors of the roses:  red for passion, white for regard
and respect.  The way that the stems were braided together...

Who would have thought that Chris was such a romantic?

He felt a presence at his elbow, and looked up.  The bartender stood there,
holding a glass of dark amber liquid.

Ezra took it with a smile, and sipped from it.  He jerked back in surprise.
"Sir, I fear there has been some sort of mistake, although it has been to my
advantage.  I ordered whiskey, and you have given me a fine vintage of
scotch."

"No mistake, Mr. Standish.  This is what I was told to give you, if you asked
for a drink."

"Told by whom?"

The bartender just smiled and walked away.

Ezra grinned and took another sip.  A very fine vintage, indeed.  This was
more like it.  Chris was certainly pulling out all the stops.  And the gambler
had no objections.

Men gradually began to drift over to his table, and Ezra began to deal,
slipping smoothly into his role as the amusing, amiable gambler, cheerfully
separating the other players from their money.

Playing was a little difficult, because he was distracted, both by the gifts
he had been given, and by his arm, which ached more the more he used it.
Despite all this, he had a successful night, never losing more than a few
hands the entire evening.  Soon, he found again found himself alone at the
table, as the other men lost interest in losing their money to him.

He sat there still, brushing his fingers against the rose blossoms from time
to time as he worked with the cards, dealing out hands to non-existent
players, or merely playing solitaire.  He heard the chair beside him be pulled
back, and he looked up.

Straight into Chris's eyes.

*~*~*

Chris smiled as he walked into the saloon, which was mostly empty, except for
the dedicated drinkers and a few other people.  He saw Buck and JD sitting at
the bar; judging from the disbelieving stare on the boy's face and Buck's
grin, the older man was regaling him with tales of his sexual escapades.
Again.  He caught Buck's eye, and nodded in greeting, but didn't walk over.

Instead, he focused his attention on the man sitting alone at the table in the
corner.  His smile grew as he saw the chair covered in flowers beside Ezra.
As he walked over to the table, he watched the other man stop shuffling his
cards for a moment and reach out to touch the roses lying on the table beside
him.

The gunslinger was reassured that the time he had devoted to picking the
flowers was well spent.  He hadn't been sure that his idea would work, but Vin
seemed to think it was a good one.  He was also thankful that he had listened
when Mary Travis had explained the meanings behind the different colors of
roses to her son Billy a few weeks ago.  At the time, he hadn't much cared,
but he was glad for the knowledge now.  Judging by Ezra's expression, he too
understood the symbolism of the flowers, and Chris had chosen correctly.  He
had wanted to let the gambler know that what he felt was love, not just lust;
hence the white rose beside the red.

He pulled back a chair beside the other man, who looked up and met his gaze.
Chris was lost for a moment in the green eyes, shining in welcome for him.  As
soon as he realized he was staring, he broke eye contact and sat down.

"Mr. Larabee, it is a surprise and a pleasure to see you this evening," the
gambler said, with only the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice.

Chris grinned.  Keeping the other man off balance was no easy task, but it was
worth it.  As Vin had told him, Ezra was skittish; if Chris gave him too much
time to think, he would probably over-think the situation, and take off.  That
was what had happened the night before, he decided.  The gambler was an
intelligent man, but he put too much thought into the situation and ended up
coming to completely wrong conclusions.

"It's good to see you too, Ezra.  I hope you had a good night?"  He noticed
that the other man's eyes and fingers immediately strayed to the roses beside
him.

"Oh, it has been a most profitable evening, I assure you.  Which is somewhat
of a surprising, considering how very distracted I was."  There was no censure
in his voice, just amusement, and happiness.

"I didn't mean to interfere with your playing."

"Not at all, Mr. Larabee.  As I said, it was a most profitable night."  He
paused.  "Would you like to join me in a drink?"  A sly smile.  "Some
anonymous benefactor has placed a supply of excellent scotch at my disposal,
which I would be more than happy to share with you."

The gunslinger smiled.  "I'd like that a lot."  After Ezra signaled the
bartender, and Chris had his drink, he watched in silence as the gambler
finished his game of solitaire and returned to shuffling his cards.

Remembering his question from earlier that day, he asked, "Can I ask you
something?  Something serious?"

Ezra looked at him warily, but nodded.  "I will do my best to answer you,
sir."

The man in black shook his head.  "Chris.  My name is Chris.  But never mind
that now.  I was wondering, why are cards so important to you?  I can't
remember a time I've ever seen you without a deck, even when there's no chance
that you'll be able to play a game."

"Ah, but it is always best to be prepared for any eventuality, wouldn't you
agree sir?"  Ezra answered him glibly.

"I'm serious here, Ezra."

The other man grew still.  "It really does not matter, Mr. Larabee.  I don't
see how it concerns you."

"Damn it, it concerns me because it concerns you.  You matter to me, Ezra, you
and everything that effects you.  I want to know." he said intently, barely
remembering to keep his voice down.  "Please tell me," he added for good
measure.

The smaller man licked his lips, and took a long swallow of his drink.  "It's
not all that mysterious, really.  The first gift I can remember my mother
giving me was a deck of cards she had picked up someplace.  She gave them to
me, and told me to amuse myself with them, and stay out of the way."  His
voice became distant, as did his eyes, as if he was looking into the past.
His hands never ceased their skillful manipulations, however.

"I learned how to play poker before I could read and write proficiently,
before I could even ride a horse.  I was never able to keep many possessions
with me as we moved from place to place, and I was passed from family to
family while my mother was away.  But a deck of cards is small, and easy to
keep with you."

He took another drink, and continued.  "I was not always a terribly welcome
guest at the homes where I stayed, so I often found myself with a great deal
of time to spend in solitary pursuits.  Without other sources of amusement, I
turned to my cards.  Luckily, I found that I was not unskilled when it came to
games of chance, so I was actually teaching myself a trade of sorts.  The more
I understood cards, however, the more I came to realize that poker isn't about
chance.  It is about rising above fortune and luck, about using one's skill to
impose one's will upon the deck, and compel the cards to turn out the way in
which you wish."  Looking down at the cards in his hands, he said, "Every time
I am able to control the way the cards fall, and the way the game turns out, I
find myself hoping that I will be able to find the same control in my own
life."

He looked up, as if suddenly aware that he was still speaking.  He met Chris's
eyes, and shrugged carelessly.  "I suppose it has become a habit that I have
not yet gotten around to breaking."

Chris stared at him.  That was quite possibly the most honest thing the
gambler had ever said to him, and the most revealing.  "I don't know what to
say.  Thank you for telling me."

Ezra smiled brightly, but the gunslinger could tell the expression was false.
"Why Mr. Larabee, it was nothing.  No thanks are necessary."

"Don't do that."

"I am sure I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't just brush it off like that.  You told me more than I expected you to,
and I appreciate it."  He captured the other man's gaze with his own.  "I told
you, I want to know about you, all about you."  He glanced around the room;
besides Ezra and himself, Buck and JD were the only ones still in the saloon.
Meeting the gambler's eyes again, he said, "I love you.  Don't try to...to
belittle anything about yourself.  Not to me"

Ezra opened his mouth, but no sound came out.  He reached out for his drink,
but found that his glass was empty.  He twisted in his seat to try to look for
the bartender, but to no avail; the saloon was for all purposes closed, open
only out of courtesy to the protectors of Four Corners.

Chris saw the wince that the green-eyed man tried to hide.  "Is your arm still
bothering you?"  He cursed himself silently.  He had been so engrossed in his
plans for the flowers that he had forgotten to take Ezra to see Nathan, by
force if necessary.

"The discomfort is hardly worth mentioning, sir.  It is really nothing."  The
gambler tried to wave off his concern, but Chris was having none of it.

"Tomorrow you are going to see Nathan, so he can take a look at it."  He
silenced the other man's protests with a glare, even though it lacked any real
heat.  "It's late.  Come on, let's go up to your room so I can take a look at
your arm."

He waited for the other man's protests, and was surprised when none were
forthcoming.  Ezra merely nodded, and gathered up his cards.  He also picked
up the roses, cradling them carefully in his hands while casting a shy smile
at the gunslinger.

Chris followed him out of the saloon, his eyes fixed on the figure in front of
him.  So focused was his attention that he missed the looks the two other men
in the saloon cast after him; JD's confused, and Buck's appraising.

*~*~*

Once upstairs, Ezra found himself unsure of what to do.  He reverently placed
the still-connected roses onto his dresser, where he was sure they would be
safe, and easily seen from any point in the room.  He wanted to be able to
look at them whenever he wanted to.  He looked at Chris hesitantly, looking to
him for a clue what to do next.

The gunslinger was leaning back against the closed door, a soft smile on his
face.  "Why don't you let me take a look at that arm?" he suggested, his eyes
fixed on Ezra.

The gambler nodded, and stripped off his jacket, taking the time to hang it up
within his closet.  As he unbuttoned his jacket, he realized that the other
man was grinning at his actions.  He raised an eyebrow.  "Maintaining
sartorial elegance is no laughing matter, Mr. Larabee.  It requires constant
effort and attention to detail."  He was pleased when the other man laughed at
his words.

It took him longer than usual to unbutton his vest, his fingers made clumsy by
nervousness.  The man in black's presence was enough to disconcert him
terribly.  Finally, he had the garment off, and it too was hung in the closet.
 As he undid the buttons on his cuffs, he said diffidently, "I feel somewhat
foolish, as I am the only one removing any clothing.  You can remove you coat,
if you wish."

Chris looked surprised, but he nodded.  As he removed his jacket, Ezra gave
him a careful once over.  The other man was still dressed in his customary
black, but his pants and shirt were spotless, and looked as though they had
been pressed.  He removed his hat as well, revealing hair that had been
brushed until it shone.

The gambler smiled.  While there was something to be said for the man dressing
a little better, he missed the air of rugged toughness he usually projected.
He was amused; not very smart, he warned himself, being attracted to someone
who seemed to exude danger.  But then, when had the heart ever followed the
advice of the mind?

He pulled off his shirt, and stood facing Chris.  The gunslinger approached
him slowly, his gaze traveling up and down the gambler's body.  Ezra shivered,
and wished that he could pass it off to the chill of the air, but his room was
warm, snug and filled with candlelight.

Chris stopped in front of him.  He reached out, but didn't touch the smaller
man.  His hand hovered over Ezra's shoulder.  "Why don't we sit down for
this?"

The gambler nodded, and took a moment to grab a candle and a few strips of
cloth, which he laid on the table beside his bed.  He saw that Chris had
filled his wash bowl with water, and had placed it on the table as well.

He sat down, and watched as the gunslinger sat beside him.  He smiled a little
nervously.  "Shall we begin?" he suggested.

Chris nodded.  He unwrapped the bandages he had so carefully tied the next
before with even more care, if it was possible.  Ezra stared at his fingers as
they worked, living for each moment when the other man touched his bare skin.
 

When his arm was finally bare, Chris reached over to the table and grabbed the
candle.  He held the flame a safe distance from the arm in front of him.
"It's still too red, Ezra.  You need to go see Nathan tomorrow."

The gambler shook his head.  "I'm sure it will be all right, sir.  Just give
it some time."

"No, damn it, I'm not going to do that."

"You don't have to do anything, Mr. Larabee.  It is my arm.  Not yours."  He
didn't want to go to Nathan, but he didn't want to fight with Chris either.
He stared pleadingly at the other man, hoping that he would just let it go.

Luck wasn't with him.  The gunslinger shook his head firmly.  "You're going,
even if I have to drag you there myself."  He wet a strip of cloth and began
to gently wash the gambler's arm.  His touch was careful and caring, and Ezra
felt no discomfort from his efforts.  "You could get sick, if you try to
ignore this.  I'm not willing to take that risk."  Blue eyes met green.  "Why
are you fighting me on this?"

The smaller man looked away.  Instead of explaining, he said, "Very well.  I
will go seek out Mr. Jackson's aid tomorrow."

"I'll go with you."  The man in black's offer came to quickly to have been
calculated.

Ezra was grateful for the sincere offer, but he still cocked his head to one
side and smiled.  "Will you hold my hand?"

The other man blinked several times, then grinned.  "If you want me to, I
will.  Hell, Ezra, I'll do whatever it takes to get you there."  He
re-bandaged the wounded arm, again with more care than a person would guess
him capable of, from his appearance.  When he was finished, he again rested
his hand on the gambler's shoulder.  "I didn't buy you dinner," he said
wistfully.

The green-eyed man licked his lips.  "I do believe that the scotch is a more
than ample substitute for dinner."  His gaze rested on the roses as he spoke.

He returned his attention to Chris, to find that the man was staring at him
fondly, and at his state of undress with obvious approval.  The gambler
flushed and glanced down.

A hand under his chin compelled him to look up.  Chris was looking at him
seriously.  "I like to see your eyes," the other man admitted, gazing into
them.

Ezra felt his blush deepen.  "Mr. Larabee, I don't know what to say."  He
laughed ruefully.  "You seem to have that effect on me almost constantly
now."

"I know what you can say," the other man said huskily, sliding his hand up to
cup the gambler's cheek.

"What would that be?"  Ezra leaned into the touch, keeping his eyes locked
with the gunslinger's.

"Chris," the man in black breathed as he leaned toward the green-eyed man.

Ezra jerked his head back.  Was Chris calling his own name?  "I beg your
pardon?"

"My name.  You can try calling me Chris."  The gunslinger frowned at him.

The gambler laughed at himself quietly.  He rubbed his cheek against Chris's
hand, still on his cheek.  "I think I can do that...Chris."  He couldn't say
anything else, because the gunslinger's mouth covered his own.

Ezra soon found himself completely lost in the kiss.  His arms were wrapped
around the other man, even as he himself was drawn into a strong, nearly
crushing embrace.  He buried one of his hands into Chris's short hair.

The gunslinger tasted even better than Ezra had remembered, and it was all
over-laid with the fine taste of the scotch they had both enjoyed.  He moaned
low in his throat, and used his free hand to worry the buttons on Chris's
shirt.

*~*~*

Chris had almost lost it when Ezra had rubbed his cheek against his hand.
With his green eyes gone heavy-lidded in pleasure, he looked like some sort of
exotic cat.  And when he had practically purred the gunslinger's name...he
couldn't hold himself back any longer.

When he heard the other man vocalize his pleasure, feeding his moan directly
into his mouth, he had prepared to pull the other man into his lap, frantic to
get more contact with him.  He was brought back to himself by the feeling of
fumbling fingers at the buttons of his shirt.

It took a massive amount of will power, but he pulled back, breaking the kiss.
 He let go of the gambler, and took those talented hands within his own.

The green eyes drifted open, dark with desire.  "What?  What is the matter?"
he asked, leaning back toward the gunslinger.

Not believing that he was actually doing it, Chris shook his head.  "I should
go."

"Go?  I was under the impression that you were enjoying the proceedings as
much as I was."  Ezra began to pull away on his own, hurt leaking into his
voice.

"God, no, Ezra, it isn't that.  I'm enjoying it too much, if anything."

The other man's brow furrowed in confusion.  "I must admit that I don't
understand."

"I promised you that I was going to court you."

"And you have done a commendable job so far, I must tell you."

"Thank you.  But I haven't done a good enough job so far, because you haven't
said it yet."

"I do believe that I just called you by your name."

Chris grinned, and brushed his fingers against Ezra's face.  "I told you that
I was going to woo you until you tell me that you love me."

The gambler looked away.  "Mr. La - *Chris*.  I-"

"You're not ready yet.  I'm not trying to force you into a declaration.  I
just want you to know why I'm leaving.  It's not because I want to - God, I
don't want to.  But I need you to believe that I love you, really believe it,
before we do this."  He knew what he was saying was right, even as his body
screamed at him to take the man before him back into his arms and finish what
they had begun, but he resisted.  He wanted Ezra to have no doubts that he was
loved, so he would hold nothing back when they finally came together.  He
wanted the gambler for the rest of his life, to be with him for the rest of
their time on earth.  Rushing into sex would only leave the door open for the
other man's doubts to come in later, which he wanted to avoid if at all
possible.  What he felt was forever, and he wanted to do whatever he could to
assure that it would last.

Even if it meant denying both himself and Ezra, and feeling like the biggest
fool in Four Corners because of it.

He smiled at the gambler.  "I'll see you tomorrow.  After you wake up, I'll
take you to see Nathan, all right?"

The other man shook his head.  "Whatever you wish, sir.  I will put myself at
your disposal as soon as I arise."

Chris leaned forward and kissed him again, this time almost chastely.  It was
a promise, and a declaration of intent, as well as a farewell.  He stood up,
and looked down at the gambler, whose fingertips were resting lightly on his
own bottom lip.

He had to get out of the room.  Right now, before it was too late and he lost
all will to leave.

He walked over to the door, catching up his coat and hat as he did so, and
opened it.  In the hall, he turned and looked back at the bare-chested man on
the bed.  "Pleasant dreams, Ezra."

"Frustrated dreams will be more likely, but I thank you for the sentiment."
He smiled, dispelling Chris's fear that he might have upset him with his
abrupt departure.  "I wish you sweet slumber, as well."

The gunslinger closed the door firmly, and walked down the stairs.  Buck and
JD were still in the saloon.  It was fairly obvious that they were waiting for
him.

Buck leaned back against the bar and grinned widely.  "Is there something
you'd like to share, old friend?"  He waggled his eyebrows, and winked at
him.

Chris glared at him, but couldn't work up any real resentment.  His friends
would need to know about this.  Even Buck might have some suggestions that
could help him completely win the other man over.  He walked over to the bar,
and leaned against it, but didn't sit down.

"Right now, nothing is going on."

"Oh, I already knew that.  You might not have my animal magnetism, my talent
when it comes to the area of love, but you weren't gone long enough for even
you to do anything serious."

Chris shook his head.  "This isn't like that, Buck.  I'm not out looking for a
one night stand.  This is bigger than that."  He looked at his friend
seriously.  "It's important to me, and to Ezra, too.  I'm asking you not to do
anything to ruin it."
 
JD's eyes got big and round.  "Do you mean you and Ezra really-"

"Care about each other?  Yeah.  And I'm not going to let anything jeopardize
my chance with it.  Buck, this means that you don't start teasing him about
this.  He's skittish enough as it is, and you don't need to go making it
worse."

"Now, I wouldn't do that.  Ezra is a handsome man."  He winked.  "You are a
very lucky man.  Why, I've half a mind-"

A sudden flare of jealously ignited within the gunslinger.  "Don't get any
ideas, friend.  I'd hate to have to kill you."

"Whoa, whoa.  Settle down.  It was just a joke."  The brown-haired man grinned
at him, unfazed and cocky as ever.

Chris shook his head, a small smile on his face.  He should be more used to
his friend's teasing, but he wasn't exactly in complete control of himself
where Ezra was concerned.

He glanced at the young sheriff, who was still staring at him.  Had he ever
been that young?  "JD, is there something I can help you with?"

The other man shook his head.  "It's just going to take a little getting used
to.  I thought Buck was just joshing me when he told me, and now it's true."
He licked his lips and looked down at the bar.

Chris met Buck's eyes.  The mustached man shrugged a little, a wistful smile
on his face.  "Don't fret about this, JD," the older man told his young
friend.  "Sometimes love shows up in the most unexpected places."

"It might help if you go talk to Josiah," Chris suggested.  He didn't want the
situation to cause any problems within the seven.  The preacher could help JD
with any questions or moral dilemmas he might have.

"Josiah knows?"  The young man looked up.

"Yeah.  Talk to him tomorrow."  Chris nodded at the other men, and left the
saloon.  As he walked into the street, he paused and looked up toward Ezra's
window.  Even as he watched, the light went out, telling him that the gambler
had gone to bed.  The gunslinger stood in the street, wishing fiercely that he
had been the one to blow out the candle, and then take Ezra in his arms and-

Shaking his head, he broke off his train off thought.  Leaving had been
difficult enough; he didn't want to make himself completely crazy.  With a
sigh,  he walked off.  Alone.

But hopefully, not for much longer.

*~*~*

Ezra scowled up at the sun, squinting as he stepped out into the street.  The
prediction he had made to Chris last night had come true, and he had spent
most of the night drifting from one frustrating dream to the next.  As a
result, he had barely been able to drag himself out of bed, and the morning
was almost over.

He decided to begin his search for the gunslinger in the sheriff's office.  He
strolled down the street, bowing to the women he passed, and nodding at the
men.  He didn't want to go see Nathan, but even the prospect of being under
the healer's disapproving eye wasn't enough to dampen the good mood he was in.
 

He shook his head.  He was awake before noon after a night of little sleep,
and on his way to see a man who despised him, and he couldn't keep a smile off
his face.  It was all Chris's fault.  His, and those roses', which were the
first thing the gambler had seen when he finally gave up on sleeping any
longer.

He knocked on the door to JD's office, and waited to hear a muffled call of
greeting before entering.  As a gentleman, he had certain standards of
behavior to maintain, of course.

He was mildly surprised to see Josiah there, as well as JD.  The younger man
was blushing faintly.

"Ezra!  How are you today?" asked the preacher, smiling in greeting.

"I am quite well, thank you, Mr. Sanchez.  I am looking for Mr. Larabee, who
is being his usual elusive self this morning.  Have you by any chance seen
him?"  He watched suspiciously as the sheriff's flush deepened.  It appeared
that someone was carrying tales about himself and the man in black, and they
had reached the younger man's ears.

He quirked an eyebrow at Josiah, who shook his head in denial.  "I haven't
seen Chris yet, today.  I'm not sure where he would be."

"He said he was going to come by today," JD spoke up.  "He should be here
soon."

Ezra sighed.  He didn't want to have to talk to the other man, but he was
going to have to.  If Josiah hadn't said anything to him, then Chris had.  Was
the gunslinger going about town and announcing the relationship between them
to everyone?  "If Mr. Dunne has no objection, then I will wait for him here."

"That's fine, Ezra." the sheriff quickly assured him.

Smiling faintly, Josiah stood.  "I'll be going then.  JD, if there's anything
else you want to talk to me about, come and find me.  Anytime."  He clapped a
hand to Ezra's arm; fortunately it was his right.  "I'll see you around,
Ezra."  With a final nod, he was gone.

Ezra didn't take the chair the preacher had vacated; instead, he leaned
against the wall, and looked at JD speculatively.  How to begin?  "Mr. Dunne,
is there anything you'd like to discuss with me?"

The younger man cast a quick, nervous glance at him.  "Um, maybe, Ezra.  Uh,
Buck and I talked to Chris last night, and he told us some stuff about you.
You and him."  He cleared his throat.  "He said he was in love with you."

Ezra smiled, and was unable to speak for a moment.  Chris was exceeding every
expectation the gambler had ever had of him.  He knew the gunslinger was a man
of honor; it was one of his most endearing traits.  But he hadn't ever
imagined that he would ever be so up front about his emotions and intentions
with other people.  As he thought about it, he decided that it only made
sense.  As private a man as he was, the gunslinger was also intrinsically
honest.

He realized that JD was waiting for a response.  "Mr. Larabee has told me the
same thing," he said, in a confiding tone, his smile still place.  After the
younger man had relaxed, he continued.  "I take it that you aren't familiar
with relationships between men?"

The sheriff shook his head.  "Not before last night, I wasn't."

"I take it that you have talked to Mr. Sanchez, and that he has answered any
questions you might have?"

"Oh, Josiah told me a lot."  He paused.  "Can I as you something?"

"But of course, Mr. Dunne."  He hoped the other man would be able to get the
question out.  If he got any redder, Ezra would have to take him along to
Nathan's, out of fear for his health.  He was running the risk of a stroke.

"How can you tell?  If a man might like other men, I mean?"  His tone said
that the question was terribly important to him.

Ezra shrugged.  "I don't know if there is a definite way to tell.  I suppose
the best thing to do is wait and see if you feel the same sort of attention
coming from him as you do from a girl who is interested in you."

The other man was about to say something, when the door swung open.  Chris
stood in the doorway.  A smile instantly lit up his face when he caught sight
of the gambler, and expression that Ezra echoed.

"Good morning, Ezra," he said warmly.  "JD."

As the youngest of the three stammered out a greeting, Ezra tipped his hat
toward the gunslinger.  "Good morning, M- Chris.  I trust you are well this
morning."

"A little tired, but I'm doing fine."

Ezra laughed out loud, understanding exactly what the other man meant.  "I
suppose you have come to escort me to Mr. Jackson's establishment?"  Even that
couldn't detract from his happiness at seeing the gunslinger again.

Chris nodded.  "You've got it.  JD, I'll talk to you later."  He held open the
door, and allowed the gambler to precede him out into the street.

As they walked, Ezra glanced hesitantly at the man in black.  "I must admit
that I am quite impressed by how honest you have been with the other members
of our group.  I never expected you to be so forthcoming."  He swallowed.
"That said, I must tell you that I think it would be best not to tell Mr.
Jackson."

"Why not?  I've already told everyone else.  We can't really leave him out.
One of the others will tell him if we don't."  He glanced at the green-eyed
man in obvious concern.  "What's the matter?  What aren't you telling me?"

Ezra shook his head.  He wasn't quite sure if he could put his feelings into
words.  He knew how little the healer liked him, and he didn't want to cause
Chris to lose any standing in the other man's eyes because of his relationship
with him.  "It was just an idle thought.  It doesn't really matter."

They quickly reached Nathan's.  The healer was inside, and he let them in.
"What can I do for you today?"

Chris's eyes upon him, Ezra spoke up.  "I sustained a very minor wound during
the skirmish the day before yesterday.  I thought that it would heal on its
own, but it has become slightly more red than it should be.  I would
appreciate it if you could take a look at it for me."  He spoke deprecatingly
of his injury.

"Let me see it."  Nathan ushered him over to a window, so he could see better.
 As he looked at the gambler's arm, turning it carefully so to get a better
look at it, he asked, "Why didn't you come to me about this sooner?  It's not
infected, not yet, but it will be if I don't do something about it."  He
walked over to a shelf, and began to gather supplies.

Ezra met Chris's eyes, but said nothing, even though he knew both men were
waiting for an answer.  He held his peace as Nathan began to treat and
re-bandage his arm.

"Come on, Ezra.  I want to know."  Nathan's voice was low and serious.  "Did
you think that I wouldn't be able to help you, that I wouldn't know what to
do?"

The gambler shook his head, but was caught by Chris's gaze, and the patient
question in them.  He sighed, and glanced up at the healer as he pulled his
shirt back on.

*~*~*

Chris watched in concern as Ezra turned to face Nathan.  He didn't want to
push the gambler too hard to speak, as much as he wanted to hear the answer.
He was relieved that the green-eyed man had allowed himself to be bullied into
coming, and was getting help.  He could be content with that, even if he too
wanted to know why Ezra was so reluctant to ask for Nathan's help.

To his surprise, the gambler answered the third man.  "Mr. Jackson, I assure
you that I have the utmost respect and trust for your abilities as a
physician, and that I am confident that you are able to handle any injury with
which you are presented."  He looked down, focusing on fastening his buttons.

"I try to avoid asking your assistance because I know how much you dislike me,
sir.  I don't want to burden you with my presence."

"So you're saying that I am so rude to you that you would rather suffer than
come to me for help?"  Nathan stepped away, offended.

"Not at all," Ezra said quickly.  He licked his lips.  "The situation is
entirely my own fault.  I am aware of your feelings concerning con men, and I
completely understand them.  I have heard stories about the terrible tricks
played upon slaves attempting to escape, with men promising to help them reach
the north, and then turning them in for rewards as escaped slaves.  Your
aversion to men of my dubious profession is entirely understandable, and I
want to respect your feelings."

Chris stared at the gambler, sharing in Nathan's shock.  Even though he was in
love with the other man, he was constantly surprised by the new depths the
gambler was slowly, constantly revealing.

Nathan blinked several times before he gathered his thoughts together enough
to reply.  "Ezra, I didn't know you thought that."  He shook his head,
remaining silent in thought for long moments.  He looked up, a thoughtful
expression on his face.  "Will you be playing poker tonight in the saloon?"

"But of course, Mr. Jackson.  Where else would I be?"

"Oh, I don't know.  I was thinking that I might stop by, and I wanted to be
sure you would be there."

Chris watched as a look of surprise, wonder, and happiness crossed Ezra's
face.  "Mr. Jackson, I will look forward to the pleasure of your company."
All his clothes were back in place.  "Thank you for your help, sir."

"Come back and see me tomorrow, so I can check that arm again."

Ezra bowed shortly to the healer, then turned to Chris.

The gunslinger smiled at him, and ushered him out the door.  As they walked
out into the street, he leaned toward the green-eyed man and murmured, "So you
are going to be working the table again tonight.  Am I ever going to be able
to get you to myself for an evening?"

He watched in delight as the gambler blushed.  "Why, Mr. Larabee, you know
that I am trying to earn enough money to be able to buy the saloon.  If I am
going to be able to do so, I must work diligently."

Chris smiled.  "I suppose I really can't object to that.  Buying that building
will help tie you to Four Corners, and there's nothing I want more than to be
sure you'll be here with me for a long time."

The other man cast a side-long glance at him.  "Mr. Larabee, your presence
here ties me more firmly to this town than any building ever could."

Chris was caught without a reply, not knowing what to say.  He stared at the
gambler.  Then he began to swear quietly.

"Why sir, whatever is the matter?"

"I've got to go out of town with Buck today, to go check out some reports of
rustlers working on the ranches to the north of town.  I don't especially want
to go."

"Are these real rustlers, Mr. Larabee, or more figments of your imagination?"
the green-eyed man teased gently.

Chris laughed.  "Those other rustlers were a figment of Vin's, actually.  I
hope these are real.  If I have to leave you, then I'd better have someone to
vent my irritation on, and Buck's too good a friend to do that to."

Ezra grinned at him, then looked at him with open speculation.  "Come with
me," he said suddenly, grabbing Chris's upper arm and pulling him toward JD's
office.

"What are you doing?" asked the gunslinger, still laughing.

"You'll see," the other man promised with a wicked smile.  He pushed open the
door to the sheriff's office without knocking, and dragged the man in black in
after him.

"What?  Chris, Ezra, what's going on?" asked JD, starting up out of his
chair.

"Nothing to concern yourself with, Mr. Dunne," replied the gambler.  "I would
suggest that you close your eyes, however."  He shut the door firmly.

"I don't understand," the young man protested.

"You don't have to, sir.  You just have to close your eyes."  Ezra grinned at
Chris.

The gunslinger watched him warily.  To his surprise, the gambler pulled him
into his arms and kissed him.  He quickly recovered, and began to playfully
battle with the other man for dominance in the kiss.  They warred idly for
control, both winning in the end.  He heard JD's startled gasp, but paid no
attention to it.

After what felt like far too short a time, Ezra pulled away.  "You have to go
find Buck," he said softly, staring up into Chris's eyes.

"Damn you, Ezra."  The man in black's voice was completely lacking in any real
anger.

"Why, such language, Mr. Larabee."

"My name is Chris.  I know you can say it," he chided gently.

"Mm.  I find that I forget in the heat of the moment," the smaller man
admitted, as he stepped out of Chris's embrace.  "You need to go."

The gunslinger nodded.  "I'll see you later," he promised.  "Good-bye, JD."
He left quickly, not wanting to give into temptation and linger.

Buck was waiting for him outside.  "Morning, Chris," he said, raising an
eyebrow.  "What has you looking so flustered?"

At that moment, Ezra exited the sheriff's office.  He tipped his hat to Chris,
then ambled back to the saloon.

"Oh," said Buck knowingly.

"Let it go, Buck."

"Come on, you've got to tell me something.  Is he as good at kissing as he is
at talking?  You'd think with all the practice he has in using his tongue-"

"Let it go, Buck."

"Chris, come on..."

The gunslinger shook his head.  It was going to be a long ride.

*~*~*

Ezra caught himself whistling cheerfully as he walked back to the saloon, and
he grinned as he realized what he was doing.  He was fairly certain that the
grin on his face was more than a little smug.  He had managed to surprise the
gunslinger in JD's office, and he was enjoying putting the other man off
balance for once.  Chris had been obviously enjoying the gambler's
discomfiture; now it was time to turn the tables, at least for a little
while.

Inside the saloon, he noted that the bartender had gone missing again.
Wherever did that fellow wander off to?  He decided to forgo a drink.  Maybe
he'd go talk to Josiah.  Speaking with the preacher had seemingly helped JD
order his thoughts.  Perhaps he could do the same for the gambler.

He knew that he loved Chris.  It was becoming more clear to him that the man
in black loved him in return, sincerely and completely.  Why else would he put
so much effort into pursuing him?

His thoughts drifted back to the night before.  He hadn't wanted Chris to
leave.  He would have far rather spent the night with the other man, exploring
his body, and acting out any and all of the numerous fantasies he harbored
about him.  It was clear that the gunslinger hadn't wanted to leave either.
Ezra shivered, remembering the hunger he had felt in the other man's kiss, the
way those strong arms had embraced him in a near-crushing grip.  No, Chris
definitely had wanted to continue, as much as Ezra had.

And all it would have taken was three words.  If he had confessed his love
aloud to the man in black, he would have stayed.  So what had stopped him?
Why didn't he just say it?  Chris had given him every chance to reciprocate,
and he hadn't.  For God's sake, the other man had been practically shouting
his devotion from the rooftops, and Ezra hadn't done more than obliquely hint
about his feelings.

As he stood leaning against the bar and pondering his actions, he heard
someone enter.  He looked up, and smiled in genuine pleasure.  "Mr. Tanner,
good afternoon.  May I ask how you are faring on this lovely day?"

"I'm fine."  The bounty hunter took up a near-identical pose, and tilted his
head back and gave the gambler a look of speculation.  "I guess you saw Chris
before he left with Buck, then."

"Why, however did you know, sir?"

"You wouldn't look so happy if you'd missed him."

Ezra flushed lightly, and looked down.  "Am I so very obvious, then, Mr.
Tanner?  Now I must fear for my performance at the poker table, if I am so
easily read."

"Nah, it's not that.  I just know you."

"And you know what Mr. Larabee has been doing.  He has mentioned your aid on
more than one occasion."

"Just helping out a friend."  Vin fell silent, still gazing at the gambler.

After a few minutes, the other man became uncomfortable.  "Mr. Tanner, is
there some way in which I can be of service to you?"

"Maybe.  I'm trying to figure something out."

"What is troubling you, sir?"

"I know that you love Chris.  And you've got to know that he loves you.  So
why is he still wooing you?  I mean, I don't understand what you are waiting
for."

Ezra looked up briefly.  "Perhaps I need a drink after all," he muttered, as
he looked back down at his hand as it rested on the bar.

"What was that?"

"Nothing of any importance.  It appears that you are sent here by fate, Mr.
Tanner.  I was just wondering the same thing.  It seems that Providence is
attempting to sway me in one direction, rather than the other."

"Which direction would that be?"  The bounty hunter's voice was soft,
patient.

"The more frightening of the two, of course.  The one where I screw my courage
to the sticking place and declare my feelings for Mr. Larabee, as he has so
bravely done to me."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I told you it is the more frightening course to take, sir.  And I am
frightened."

"Of what?"

Ezra shook his head.  "That is my concern, Mr. Tanner, and mine alone."

"Now, I'm gonna have to disagree with you there.  I think it concerns Chris as
well."  He paused.  "I'm Chris's friend, Ezra, and I'd like to think that I'm
yours as well."

The gambler looked up, surprised.  "Mr. Tanner, I don't know what to say."

"Try telling me what's wrong."

"I am definitely going to require a drink to continue this conversation."  The
gambler walked around behind the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey.
With raised brows, he offered the same to Vin, who accepted.  That task
finished, he downed his drink and poured himself another.

"I am afraid," he said carefully, enunciating each word, "that if I tell Mr.
Larabee of my emotions directly, and make that declaration to him, that all of
this will become real."

The bounty hunger shook his head.  "I don't understand."

The gambler struggled.  Not to find the words, they always came easily to him,
too easily sometimes, getting him into trouble.  Instead, he worked to
overcome a lifetime's indoctrination of the lesson that taught him never to
reveal his fears, his true thoughts, to another person.  He was slowly
beginning to do so with Chris; with another person, it was immeasurably more
difficult.

"At this moment, I find myself believing that everything that has happened is
a lovely dream, one that I don't particularly ever wish to awaken from.  If I
tell Mr. Larabee that I love him, then all of this will become real, no longer
a dream."

Vin's eyes lit up in sudden understanding.  "And you can get hurt in reality,
the way that you are safe in dreams."

Ezra nodded appreciatively.  He was constantly surprised by the depths that
the other man kept hidden from others.  "Exactly.  If it real, it can also be
destroyed, the way that dreams cannot.  I don't want to hurt Mr. Larabee:  I
dread doing so more than I fear being hurt myself."

"You can't live life ruled by fear, Ezra.  Not if you really want to live."

"Very astute, sir.  So I must tell Mr. Larabee, and soon, if we are to move
forward, instead of remaining in this limbo of dreams."  He smiled, a little
shyly.  He had opened himself to the other man, trusting in him, and Chris's
opinion of him.  "Of course, I will miss this attention.  I have found it
quite enjoyable."

Vin laughed.  "There is that, I guess."

"Mr. Tanner, I must thank you for your help."

"All I did was listen."

"And for that I thank you."  He bowed toward the other man.  "I need to do
some further thinking, but you have been an immense help."  After saying his
good-byes, he walked back up to his room and laid down on his bed.

It was time to come to a decision, and act on it.

Tonight.

*~*~*

Chris could see Four Corners ahead in the distance, and he had to fight down
the urge to spur his horse, to increase his pace to a canter and reach the
town that much faster.  He restrained himself, although doing so was becoming
more difficult with every moment he was away.

He had been taken completely by surprise when Ezra had dragged him into JD's
office; he hadn't expected the gambler to take the initiative so abruptly.
Not that he objected - his only complaint was that they hadn't had more time
together.

"You know, you don't have to stare at the town like that.  It won't disappear
on you if you look away."  There was open laughter in Buck's voice.  The big
man had been teasing Chris off and on all day, although he respected the
gunslinger's command to stop asking questions.

Chris wanted to keep some aspects of his relationship with Ezra just between
the two of them.  It was too new to let Buck turn it into a joke, no matter
how good-naturedly.

"You keep this up, Buck, and it won't matter to you, because you'll never live
to reach Four Corners."

The mustached man laughed.  "Right.  As if you would take the time to kill me.
 That would just slow you down in getting back to him."

Chris had to laugh.  It was true.

As they rode into town, Mary Travis walked out into the street.  "Mr. Larabee?
 I would like to talk to you for a moment, if I could."

He nodded.  "I'll see you later, Buck."  He glanced back at the woman.  "I'll
be with you as soon as you as I take care of my horse."  He did so quickly but
thoroughly.  He didn't especially want to talk to Mary; he would far rather
get over to the saloon and find Ezra.

He walked quickly over to the newspaper office, where he could see a candle
burning.  He knocked at the door, then opened it.  "Hello?"

"Mr. Larabee, I'm over here."  Mary was standing behind her desk.

"Good evening, Mrs. Travis."

"What did you need to see me about?" he asked, working to keep any impatience
out of his voice.

"I wanted to know what happened today.  Did you and Mr. Wilmington encounter
rustlers?"  Her tone was more intimate than usual, and she stepped forward
around the desk.  "I want to be able to put any news into the paper
tomorrow."

"We found sign of some riders passing through, but it didn't look like they
were driving any cattle with them.  It seems like the rumors were just that."
He tipped his hat at her.  "If that's all, ma'am, I've got to be going."

"Oh.  Well, thank you, Mr. Larabee."  She seemed disappointed, as if wishing
he would stay longer.  That signaled more than anything else that it was time
to leave.

As he walked over to the saloon, he wondered what had just happened.  Mary had
always been fairly stand-offish.  Why the change?  He shrugged it off.  He had
more important things to think about.  For a moment, he debated going to his
room and cleaning up before entering the saloon, but decided that he didn't
want to wait any longer to see Ezra.

He walked in, his eyes automatically searching for the gambler at his usual
table.  The green-eyed man was there, in his usual chair.  Chris paused for a
moment, just to appreciated and commit to memory what he was seeing.

Ezra's head was tipped back as he laughed, his hair gleaming in the lamplight.
 His green eyes were gleaming in pleasure, and as he dealt cards, his gestures
were elegant and expansive, speaking eloquently of his good mood.  Even with
out hearing his words, Chris could gauge the other man's feelings, just by
watching the movements of his skillful hands, which were nearly as expressive
as the man's tongue.

His tongue...Chris shook himself out of the memory that threatened to engulf
him.  He strode into the room, and decided to get a drink before heading over
to the table.  He nodded at the bartender, who poured him a shot of his
scotch.

"You're becoming a regular here, sir," commented the bartender, smiling
genially.

The gunslinger nodded.  "I guess I am."  He sipped his drink, then carried it
over to the table.

He stopped in the middle of the saloon as he realized who exactly Ezra was
playing cards with.  A couple of men from town, which was hardly a surprise.
But Vin was there, along with Nathan.  Even as he watched, Ezra said something
to the healer, who laughed out loud.

Grinning himself, he finished the journey to the table, stopping to place a
hand on Ezra's shoulder and squeeze gently.

The gambler looked up at him, pleasure plainly evident on his face.  "Mr.
Larabee.  I am glad to see that you have returned safely to us."  His tone
reflected the good time he had been having.

"Buck and I didn't see any rustlers today.  I'm beginning to think there may
be some sort of conspiracy going on now."  Vin laughed quietly, as did Ezra.
"Is this a closed game, or can anyone join in?"

"Pull up a chair," invited Nathan.  "Ezra's about drained me dry.  He needs a
new victim."  His tone lacked its usual censure, Chris was pleased to note.

The gunslinger sat down.  He looked up to see Ezra staring at him, a solemn
light in his eyes.

"What?" asked Chris.

"I need to talk to you," the gambler said seriously.  "Tonight."

The gunslinger nodded, his stomach knotting.  Why was Ezra so serious?  What
had happened while he was gone?  Suddenly worried, he picked up his cards with
fingers that trembled minutely.

*~*~*

The gambler smiled in satisfaction as he won yet another hand.  It was turning
out to be yet another profitable night.  The luck he was having with Chris and
their relationship seemed to be positively affecting his luck at the table as
well.  Perhaps this was an unexpected benefit to being courted.  He didn't
believe that he was going to complain.

He glanced up at the gunslinger, but the other man's attention was firmly
fixed on the cards he held in front of him.  He had lost steadily ever since
he had joined in the game, which wasn't usual.  Although he rarely joined Ezra
in a game, the gambler remembered the man as a player of more than average
skill.

He was distracted by the departure of the two men who lived in Four Corners,
who quit with good-natured disgust, getting out while they still had some of
their own money.  The green-eyed man thanked them genially for playing, as he
always did, and invited them to come back.  He winked at one of them.  "Just
try to be sure that your luck does not change, sir, else playing with you will
not be nearly so pleasurable."

The man shook his head, but grinned as he headed over to the bar for a drink.
 

Ezra looked up at the three men who remained.  "Gentlemen, do you wish to
continue?  There are less of you now for me to focus my attention upon, so
your risk has grown considerably."

"Quit trying to scare us and deal the damn cards," suggested Vin, a small
smile on his face.

"I will ignore your uncouth manners, Mr. Tanner, and continue the game," the
gambler replied loftily.  He dealt the cards quickly.  Once again, Chris
played an extraordinarily poor game.

Ezra looked at him closely.  What could be the problem?  The man in black had
seemed so happy, so carefree when he had joined the game.  He had seemed more
serene than the gambler could remember him ever being before.  Something was
certainly troubling the other man, distracting him to the point where it
seemed that he was paying only cursory attention the game in which he was
involved.  What had occurred between the time he sat down and now to upset him
so much?

After a moment of reflection, it was only the gambler's long practice at
keeping his poker face firmly in place stopped him from groaning aloud and
smacking his head repeatedly against the table.  What could be bothering
Chris?  Oh, could it possibly be his own potentially ominous statement that he
and the gunslinger need to talk?

He glanced over at Chris, who was still staring at his cards, his brows drawn
together in a preoccupied frown.  Ezra knew he had to fix this.  He didn't
want the other man to sit and brood about this.  It wasn't right, or fair.
Besides, if the gunslinger worked himself into a completely awful state, it
would ruin Ezra's plan's for the rest of the evening.

As the latest hand of poker came to a close, with Ezra as the winner, the
gambler collected his cards to himself and began to shuffle them into order as
he prepared to put them away.  "Sirs, it has been a pleasure spending this
evening in your company, but I fear that I must bring our time together to an
end."

"No!  I want a chance to try to win some of my money back," Nathan protested.
His tone was pleasant, if a bit wheedling.

Vin didn't say anything.  He just leaned back and looked back and forth
between Ezra and Chris.

Ezra shook his head.  "There will be other chances, Mr. Jackson, I assure you.
 You will have ample opportunity to try to reclaim your money from me."  He
grinned slyly.  "Not that you will be able to, of course, but I will be more
than happy to accommodate you and give you the chance.  But right now, I am
going to go upstairs."  He pushed back his chair and stood.  "Mr. Larabee,
would you please join me?"

The blue-eyed man looked up, startled out of whatever thoughts were occupying
him.  "Hm?  Yeah, yeah I will."

Nathan leaned back in his chair, his head cocked to the side.  "I don't think
I understand," he said carefully, looking at first Ezra, then Chris.

The gambler smiled.  "It is really very simple, Mr. Jackson.  I am very much
in love with Mr. Larabee, and he has told me that he harbors the same emotions
for me.  For this reason, I wish him to accompany me to my room."  He raised
an eyebrow, arching it elegantly.  "Do you have any questions?"

The healer said nothing; instead, he stared at the standing man, as if he had
just spoken in a never-before heard language.

Vin chuckled quietly.  "I think you just about answered any questions he might
have."  He met the gambler's gaze firmly.  "Congratulations," he said softly.

Ezra nodded, knowing that the man was alluding to their earlier conversation.
He then looked over to Chris, who was staring openly at him, making no attempt
to hide his astonishment.

"Mr. Larabee, will you be joining me?" he asked, trying to hide his
uncertainty.  What if he had made a mistake, and said too much, too soon?
Would his choice to take the more dangerous path hurt and taunt him so soon?

Chris seemed suddenly to come back to himself, and he smiled, a smile filled
with hope and joy and smoldering heat.  "Why, of course I will, Ezra.  I'll
follow you anywhere, anywhere you want to lead me, even to the gates of hell
and back, if you asked me to."

Ezra grinned broadly, and extended his hand to the gunslinger, and pulled him
to his feet.  "I trust we will see you gentlemen tomorrow.  Have a pleasant
evening."  He released Chris's hand regretfully, but walked beside him through
the saloon to the stairs leading upstairs.  His stomach tingled from
excitement, and he had to stop himself from running up the short flight of
stairs.

Once he reached his room, he quickly entered in and turned to face the
gunslinger, anxiously awaiting the other man's reaction.

*~*~*

Chris walked into Ezra's room in a daze, hardly aware of where he placed his
feet, or of closing the door behind him.  The whole of his attention was
concentrated upon the man in front of him, who had managed to surprise him
flat-footed downstairs.  He had believed that it would require much more time
before the gambler would be ready to put his heart on the line and openly and
verbally confess his love.  He had been prepared to wait as long as it took,
to do whatever was needed to be able to persuade him to admit what he was
feeling.  Now the other man had completely astounded him with his public
declaration, so unexpected but definitely welcome.

He shook his head.  "You are beyond a doubt the damnedest man I ever met,
Ezra."

The other man cocked his head to the side.  "I don't know if I should take
that as a compliment."

"Do you realize what you've done?  You just announced that you loved me to two
of your friends, in public.  You've told me, with witness, that your heart is
mine."  He was still having trouble believing the past few minutes had really
happened.

"It is no less than what you have done, is it not?  You have been completely
open and honest about how you feel for me.  How could I be any different,
without dishonoring the courage and candor you have shown?"  Ezra's eyes were
clear and honest, and his tone reflected the admiration and surety he was
expressing.  He licked his lips in a nervous gesture, obviously not realizing
how arousing the gunslinger found it.

Chris couldn't stay away from him any longer.  Pulling his coat and hat off,
he dropped them to the floor as he crossed the room.  He stopped moving just
in front of the gambler, leaving only inches between them.

Ezra smiled, and stepped into his arms, placing his own around the
gunslinger's waist.  He kept his head back, so he could look up a little and
into the man in black's eyes.

Chris wrapped his arms around the gambler and stared down at him.  The other
man clearly wanted to speak.  "What is it, Ezra?"

"M-Chris, you know that you have my heart, correct?  You have my heart, my
love - you have me, for good or for ill.  You could break my heart now, with
just a word."  He shrugged a little.  "I don't intend to sound like one of the
heroines in that trash Mr. Dunne insists upon reading, but you now own my
heart, and I would ask you to be careful with it."  His gaze was without any
of its usual shields or defenses, his soul and emotions utterly naked before
the taller man.

Chris shook his head.  "Ezra, love, you have nothing to worry about.  If your
heart is mine, then my soul belongs to you.  I trust you with my life, and
with my love.  I think we'll be able to keep each other safe, don't you?"

He raised a hand to the gambler's face, trailing a finger down the line of his
cheek.  "I never expected you to tell me you loved me so fast."

"How long did you think I would be able to resist, sir?  You already knew how
I felt, and the campaign you staged was most persuasive."  He smiled.  "I
doubt anyone would be able to hold out against you for long, even a person as
stubborn as myself."  He fell silent, his eyes widening a little, his pupils
dilating to eclipse the green.

The gunslinger realized that he was staring at the other man's mouth as he
spoke, watching the movements of lips and tongue.  He laughed a bit.  "I just
can't seem to keep my mind focused on anything tonight."

"Oh, I do believe that I can come up with something that will successfully
occupy your attention."  His tone was mischievous, but the hunger underlying
his words was easily audible.  The gambler tightened his hold on the
gunslinger, pressing their bodies close together.

Chris exhaled shakily.  Placing his hands behind the green-eyed man's
shoulders, he pulled him even closer, so there was no space left between them.
 Dropping his head, he pressed his mouth to Ezra's, moaning appreciatively as
the other man's opened under his.

*~*~*

Ezra pressed himself closer to Chris, feeling as though he wasn't close enough
to him, as if he would never be close enough.  He was sure that removing their
clothing would help, but he couldn't tear his mouth away from the other man's
long enough to make the suggestion.

He could hear himself making noises low in his throat, but he wasn't able to
stop himself from producing them.  He ignored them and concentrated instead on
the feel of the man in his arms, the hard, muscled arms wrapped around him and
the mouth that was feeding eagerly on his, stealing his breath.

He was vaguely aware that they were moving together, crossing the short space
until he could feel the back of his knees run up against the foot of his bed.
He protested as Chris pulled back, breaking the kiss.  Reluctantly opening his
eyes, he looked up at him dazedly.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," answered Chris, husky voice coming from behind swollen lips.  "I
just thought it was about time we moved this over to the bed."  With a sudden
grin, he stepped back and shoved the gambler back onto the bed.

Ezra landed lightly.  He glared up at the gunslinger indignantly, then
shrugged mentally.  He had wanted to be on the bed; did it really matter how
he got there?  He modified his expression, allowing his eyelids to droop
lazily as he stretched languorously against the sheets.  "You say we, but I
seem to be the only on the bed.  Don't you want to join me?"

He watched in fascination as Chris began to hastily remove his clothes.  There
was something to be said for a slow, seductive strip, but that could wait
until later.  The gunslinger was obviously in no mood to wait, and neither was
Ezra.  The gambler raised his hands to his vest, and began to undo his own
buttons.

"Don't," growled the gunslinger, pulling his shirt off.

Ezra was completely distracted.  Watching the ripple of muscle on the lean
body as Chris worked at the fastening on his pants, he asked, "Don't what?"

"Leave your vest alone."  Chris pulled off his boots, then began to slide his
pants off.  "Do you know what it is like for me, to see you walking around in
a shirt, vest, and coat, now that I know what you look like bare-chested?  To
know what you body looks like, but not even to get a hint of it because you
cover yourself up in all those damn layers?  For the past few days, I've
wanted nothing more than to get you out of all those clothes and finally see
you.  And now I'm going to, so don't touch any of those buttons."

Ezra's mouth went dry, and his arms fell back against the bed.  It may have
been the other man's words that so affected him, or it may have been his first
sight of Chris naked.  The other man's body was as he had imagined it, only so
much better because it was real.  Tall and lean, his body was smoothly
muscled.  The assorted scars scattered across his skin didn't detract from him
at all; in the gambler's eyes, they were badges of honor, proof that this man
had survived everything life had thrown at him, risen above to be living, and
with him in that moment.

Reaching out a hand, Ezra wordlessly invited the other man to come to him, all
his facile phrases deserting him.  Chris quickly moved to straddle the smaller
man, kneeling over him and smiling down into his eyes.  He quickly unbuttoned
the gambler's vest, pushing it open.  He then turned his attention to Ezra's
shirt, slipping the button's loose and pulling the shirt open an inch at a
time.

When all the buttons were undone, Chris bent and caught the other man's mouth
in a searing kiss.  Ezra leaned up into it, shrugging out of his shirt as he
did so.  He then wrapped his arms around the gunslinger and pulling him down
to lie on top of himself.  He ran his hands down Chris's back, moaning as the
other man's fingers found their way into his hair.  The gambler's hands began
to wander lower, but Chris again pulled back.

Blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, he said, "I think you need to
lose some more clothing."  He pushed himself back up to his knees, and began
to work at Ezra's pants.  In a few swift moves, the gambler was naked as well,
and back in Chris's arms.  This time, when his hands began to wander, the
gunslinger made no objection.  Ezra slid his hands down to cup the other man's
buttocks, and pull him closer.  He still felt like he wasn't close enough.  He
wanted to crawl into the gunslinger's skin.  Better yet, he wanted the other
man in his.

He gasped as Chris finally released his mouth, and began to make his way down
the body beneath him, kissing each inch of skin he encountered.  When the
gunslinger came to the tender juncture of neck and shoulder, he grinned
fiercely, then sucked hard at the sensitive skin.  Ezra arched beneath the
other man, fingers clutching skin convulsively.

The gunslinger pulled back and looked down with a satisfied nod.  "You're
branded now, Ezra.  Marked as mine."

"I have been yours for a very long time," the green-eyed man replied, before
pulling the other man down and placing his own mark on his neck.  When he was
sure he had created one that would last, he let his head fall back to rest
against the bed.  "Now we are a pair," he said, feeling ridiculously pleased.
 

"A pair of what?"  Chris returned to kissing his way down the gambler's body.
When he reached Ezra's chest, he paused for some time at each nipple, not
moving on until each was red and hard, standing out wetly from his body.

"Oh, aces," Ezra forced out.  He was losing all interest in conversation.
Hell, he was losing all interest in rational thought.  He felt the other man's
tongue dip into his navel, and he buried his hands in the golden brown hair,
doing his best not to pull too hard.  When the gunslinger began to move down
his left thigh, completely bypassing the hard ache of Ezra's groin, he groaned
in protest.  "Please," he murmured.  "No teasing, not tonight, please..."

Chris was immediately up beside him again.  "What's the matter?"

Ezra grabbed him and rolled so that he was now on top of the gunslinger.
"Nothing, not any more."  He grinned and began to work his way down Chris's
body, returning the attention that had been so lovingly bestowed on his own.
He lingered over every scar he encountered, kissing them gently and trailing
his fingers over them with care.

When he reached the other man's erection he paused, looking up into eyes that
were more black than blue.  He wondered briefly if his eyes looked the same:
dazed with passion, alight with love, shining with joy.  He turned his
attention to the hardness before him, and began to pay homage to it with his
mouth.  The other man's hands fisted in his hair, but he was barely aware of
it.  He was too caught up in the moment to care, more interested in the words
of love he could here spilling from the gunslinger's lips.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Chris was losing his control.  He was tempted to thrust up into Ezra's mouth,
to bury himself in the wet heat until he came, but he wanted more.  With
massive effort, he released his hold on the gambler's hair and grasped his
shoulders, pulling him back up until the other man was lying sprawled across
him.

Puzzled green eyes stared at him.  "Is anything wrong?  I thought-"

Chris silenced him with a kiss.  After long minutes, he pulled back.
"Everything's perfect.  I was too close; I didn't want to come yet."

A lazy grin spread across Ezra's face.  "When were you planning on it, then?"
he purred, rubbing against the other man in a rocking motion that rapidly
began to quicken.

Chris almost lost himself in the rhythm, but again managed to come back to
himself in time.  "Ezra, please, stop."

"Stop?"  The gambler sounded confused, and just a little outraged.

"Just for a moment."  He cleared his throat, a little nervous.  "Ezra, I want
to, that is, I'd like...oh, hell.  I want to be inside you."

The green-eyed man stilled for a moment, and Chris feared that he had somehow
upset the other man.  Then the gambler lunged forward and fastened his mouth
to the gunslingers.  In between kisses that spoke of renewed urgency, Ezra
murmured, "The container on the table beside the bed will prove most helpful
in a few moments."

Chris grasped the other man's arms and managed to roll them, so he was once
again on top.  "I want to see your face," he whispered, lips against Ezra's
ear.  He leaned back and watched in fascination as a blush began to move down
the gambler's body.  The other man's hips moved involuntarily beneath him,
revealing his eagerness.

After another kiss, the gunslinger reached over to the table and retrieved a
small jar of some sort of cream.  He looked down at Ezra.  "You're sure?"

"Yes, God, yes, please Chris, the magik word, please," the gambler answered
incoherently, writhing beneath the blue-eyed man.

Chris grinned.  He had managed to render the other man nearly incapable of
speech.  Silently, he vowed to do so as many times as he could in the future.
Ezra was a sight to behold once he reached this stage:  head thrown back, hair
tousled, skin glistening with sweat.  No walls, no defensive sarcasm or
witticism, just love and need all mixed together.

Knowing that he could not betray the trust the gambler was placing in him,
Chris carefully began to prepare his new lover, turning the process into a
sensual massage that reduced the other man from broken words to helpless
moans.

When he was sure that Ezra was ready, and would feel no pain, he quickly
coated himself in the cream.  He entered the gambler with one slow thrust,
pausing once he was fully sheathed within him.  He held himself motionless by
shear force of will, reveling in the feel of the other man around him.

He remained still until Ezra began to beg him to move, and then he began to
thrust gently, slowly building up force and speed.  The gambler pushed back
against him, then dragged Chris down for a hard, frantic kiss.  Neither man
was going to last long, so the gunslinger quickly moved to take Ezra's
hardness in his hand and stroke him in rhythm with his thrusts, driving them
both toward completion.  Gazing down at Ezra, he watched the gambler's face as
he came, and heard the other man call his name in a triumphant shout.  The
sight and the feel of the man beneath him combined to send him over the edge
as well, calling out Ezra's name.

It took him a while to come back to himself, and be truly aware of where he
was.  He had collapse on top of Ezra, who had his arms loosely wrapped around
the gunslinger.  Raising his head, the blue-eyed man examined his lover.

The gambler's eyes were dreamy, and seemed to be looking at something far
away.  Chris gently kissed the corner of his mouth.  "What are you thinking?"

"I am trying to recall the last time that I was this content, and I find that
I cannot.  I don't know that I ever have been."  He looked up at the
gunslinger.  "I love you," he said, almost shyly.

Chris kissed the other side of his mouth.  "I love you."  He hesitated.  "Um,
are you all right?  I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?"

Ezra laughed.  "I am fine.  I'm more than fine."  He smiled tenderly at the
other man.  "I don't think that you'll ever be able to hurt me."  He paused,
and squirmed a little.  "Of course, if you tell me that I have to ride out on
patrol tomorrow I will kill you."

Chris laughed, and began to shift around, until he was laying on his back with
the gambler nestled against his chest.  "This all right with you?"

"Perfect."  Ezra pulled out of the embrace for a moment, to pull the bedding
up and over them, then quickly moved back into the gunslinger's arms.
"Definitely perfect.  I may never move again."

"Kind of an awkward position to play poker in, isn't it?"

The green-eyed man laughed.  "Oh, I don't know.  It would likely distract  the
other players enough to make winning much easier."

Chris chuckled.  "Let's never find out."

"Hm.  Agreed.  I still don't want to move ever again."

"We're going to have to.  You just have to look at it like I do.  That if we
move, we'll just have to do this again in order to get back into this
position.  And again, and again-"

"And again, and again.  I like the way your mind works."

"Good.  I'm figuring that forever will be long enough to make sure we really
get it down."  Chris tossed out the comment idly, hoping that the casual
delivery would make the implied proposal easier for the gambler to accept.

"Forever?" asked the other man quietly.

"Or maybe a little longer."

"Mr. Larabee, you have yourself a deal."

Chris grinned, and kissed the gambler soundly.  After, he said, "My name is
Chris."

"I know your name.  I just felt I should add some semblance of formality to
our agreement and contract.  One of us must think of proprieties."

"Pretty fancy talk for a naked man."  He kissed Ezra again.  "And lucky me, I
get to listen to you for the rest of my life," he concluded sincerely.

"Lucky you," echoed the gambler.  "Lucky us.  Fate has indeed smiled upon us."
 His voice was fading, and he followed up his words with a yawn.

As he watched Ezra drift off to sleep, Chris thanked God for the chance he had
been given with the man in his arms, and for the friends who had made it
possible.  He hadn't believed that he would ever find love again, and never in
so unlikely a person.  He wouldn't have it any other way.  It had taken some
work, but courting Ezra had been a pleasure, not a chore, the very act of
making the other man happy more than making his efforts worthwhile.

Kissing Ezra's forehead, little more than the most delicate brush of lips
against skin, he closed his eyes, ready to join his lover in slumber.  He was
a little reluctant to sleep, however.  No dream could ever match the reality
he held in his arms.
 

*~*~*
End