Work Text:
Lawrence packed only the essentials: a stethoscope, sulfur, leeches, powders, thick metal syringes, and a few bandages. To him, these items constituted everything necessary for his work, the trip up.
The summer of ‘63 brought a decent cropping season, the warm breeze brushing against his cheek. The altitude of the mountain made the heat of the sun feel like nothing at all.
The deal would conclude in just three months. Lawrence didn't dwell on the details; relocating his practice to the land he was trading his labor. This wasn't below him.
The other man Mr. Kramer hired seemed to be well-suited for the job: a young, slender figure sporting a black cowboy hat perched loosely atop wavy dark brown hair, giving him the look of a child in a fireman's hat. Draping his body was a teal striped shirt that hung casually on his frame, paired with boot-cut denim jeans, and glowed with a confident spring in his step that the doctor could see from a hundred miles away. He seemed youthful, energetic, and eager to work, Charming, with a smirk that seemed to permanently stain his face. Probably no money. Probably no experience.
The camping site was an obvious choice—a spot where they could easily oversee the field, set up their tents, and tether their horses. After dropping his leather bags, Lawrence glanced back at the younger man and motioned for him to join him by the site.
He wasted no time, slowing his horse's pace to a trot and deftly tying the reins to a tree. With a smooth slide off the saddle, his black boots landed on the grass, making a quiet rustling noise that contrasted with the swish of fabric folds as he bolted towards the older man.
Once Lawrence got a closer look at him, he noticed the maturity in his face, the acne scars that painted his jaw like little stars, the same ones they'd have to look into each night. It wouldn't be a long 3 months, as long as they could make good conversation and enjoy nature. This was a place Lawrence could feel at home, at ease.
He then remembered their conversation at the employment office earlier. The way the younger man held out his hand, the way his pale skin glowed in the warm light of the window catching particles of dust.
“Adam Faulkner-Stanheight”
“Lawrence.”
The man frowned as they shook hands.
“Your folks stop at Lawrence?”
“Gordon. Dr. Lawrence Gordon.”
A cat-like smile appeared on the young man’s face, his rosey cheeks like soaking in the sunlight like pink wildflowers among the dusty gravel.
“Mm, Fancy. Nice to meet you, Dr. Gordon.”
–-
Finally, after the entire trip up the mountain, they exchanged their first words. Adam coughed into his sleeve, shattering the silence, and Lawrence's deep blue eyes swiftly darted towards the other man, locking on him like a dart hitting a board.
"So," he began, his voice a mix of high pitch and a tinge of smoker’s vocal fry, ungracious but pleasant. "What's a guy like you doing up here shepherding at your age?"
Lawrence felt his cheeks turn red. He wasn't sure if this was a compliment, a flirtatious sentiment, or a straight up insult.
“Traveling doctors doesn't make as much as one would think,” the blonde said with an irate tone as he unpacked the supplies for the pup tent. “Got a deal with John to sell some land for my labor. Practice down there will be better for business.”
The other man's jaw seemed to drop as he joined in to help pitch the tent. "Oh, so you're established. Dang, here I thought I had a good deal getting away from my daddy's ranch for the summer."
With a playful scoff, Lawrence lifted his head to meet the young man's mossy gaze as he secured the tent's ties.
"Where you from?" Lawrence asked, concealing his subtle signs of infatuation beneath his rugged demeanor. The young cowboy stood across from him, exuding a nonchalant energy in his step and a playful tone in his voice, and promptly replied, "My folks are in Texas. We're not on the best of terms. I figured it'd be best to find work out here this summer. Dad isn't keen on my photography, and I'm not keen on his fix for me to pursue a rodeo career."
Lawrence's heart skipped a beat imagining the other man on the back of a bronco, his hips ramming against the saddle - no. Focus. Focus. Remember Alison. Remember the wife and daughter waiting back home, bags packed in boxes for the new land. He was lonely, stressed - that's all this was. Adam was another warm body. Of course.
“I see,” Lawrence responded, and Adam watched as the sunlight shifted, casting a shadow over Lawrence's blue and white hat. “My father was a doctor too. Some men just want their sons to be their shadows. Not me. All I care about is Diana's happiness.”
The other man's ears perked up, and his expression turned to a curious demeanor. “You got a daughter?”
"Yes, sir," Lawrence responded, retrieving a picture from his pocket and handing it to the other man—a Polaroid capturing a small brunette girl in cowboy boots and an oversized white dress, a sun hat atop her head. A wide smile painted her expression, she was the image of innocent bliss.
"She's beautiful," Adam commented, noting the pride in Lawrence's tone as he admired the photo of his child. Still curious, he pressed for more information. "Where's the lucky wife?"
Lawrence frowned. "Unfortunately, I don't have any photos of us together. Not since our wedding. Probably should have kept one around. I took that one of Diana."
Adam couldn't help but smile, sensing the unspoken distance between them, silently envisioning Lawrence's fingers clutching a Polaroid—the same one Adam was saving his rainy day collection for. No though - not this one Stanheight, not a married man.
As Lawrence finished tying down the last of the tent, Adam strolled over to take in the mountain view—the way the sun illuminated the twin peaks and revealed a meadow encircling the lake below.
"Gotta grab a postcard before I head back to Texas," he sighed to himself, placing his hands on his hips. "This is just goddamn gorgeous."
Lawrence nodded, then proceeded to shove some blankets into the tent. He pulled out the other bag to start pitching Adam's tent, hoping the physical distance between them would provide relief from the growing attraction he felt. This would be safe.
Before Adam joined him, the man turned around, the tassels of his shirt swaying against his chest as he shifted to face Lawrence.
"Guess my age," he teased, causing Lawrence's soft yet mature features to furrow in a frown. Adam ignored the cues and persisted with his playful demand. "C'mon. Take a guess."
Lawrence felt like this was a trap, but for the sake of the working relationship, he'd allow it. With a shake of his head that made his blonde hair rustle, he sighed. “Twenty-five.”
Adam laughed, throwing his head back so far his hat nearly fell into the grass. “Close enough. Twenty-seven. Lemme guess yours.”
“I'd prefer you not,” Lawrence replied disgruntledly, immediately cut off by Adam's childish giggling.
“Thirty-three.”
“Fourty-one.”
"Damn!" Adam exclaimed, slapping his dirt-covered hand against his denim-covered knee, his laughter echoing loudly across the hillside and rebounding off the mountain.
Truly alone on Brokeback.
Despite their age and differences, the connection was instant. The Summer of '63 promised to be entertaining, to say the least. As long as the two could survive it.
—
The night came sooner than expected, the herd had settled in for the night, and constellations littered the sky like diamonds in a mix of biscuit flour. The evening was chilly at the high alteration, and Lawrence was grateful he had retained his ability to make a good fire for them to cook some cans of beans on.
The doctor hunched forward on the log he used for a makeshift bench, watching the fire flicker and illuminate different angles of Adam’s features. He looked so mature now, his earlier boyish demeanor faded into the exhausted man who sat before him, fiddling with a harmonica.
After the minutes of silence that transpired, the younger man broke the silence.
“How are you sleeping tonight?”
Lawrence pondered the question, feeling the chill of the air and glancing over to the first tent, the way it swayed in the wind.
“It doesn’t look right. I’ll get enough winks and head out to the herd in the morning. You take the tent.”
Adam shrugged, an obvious disappointment painting his demeanor as he pushed himself up from the log.
“Suit yourself. G’night.”
“Night.”
Lawrence watched as the frail figure disappeared into the pup tent, listening to the calming noise of the fabrics and blankets rustling, a long - far too long for the doctor’s liking - sigh escaping Adam’s lips.
And so, he waited.
—
Moments stretched into minutes, and minutes into hours, as the night chilled Lawrence's bones. Despite having treated frostbite before, he had never encountered a summer so cold. Every gust of wind felt like icy bullets, accentuating the small holes in his blue shirt. This was Brokeback, he assumed—a harsh mistress of nature.
The physical symptoms of the chill overwhelmed him like a possession, and before long, Lawrence found himself uncontrollably chattering his teeth, sounding like a woodpecker in the stillness of the night.
Then, the sound of Adam's voice broke the trance, shouting, "Get in here, you idiot!" as he pulled open the pup tent. Relief washed over Lawrence as he jumped up from the log and hurried into the tent, collapsing into the sleeping bag beside the younger man.
“You’re a doctor, ain’t you?” Adam questioned, pulling the larger man into his arms to help him get warm. “Should know better than that, you’re fuckin’ freezin.”
Lawrence felt instant relief as the young man's embrace warmed his body, like boiling water melting ice. He caught the sweet scent of Adam's presence, feeling the angelic touch of Adam's fingers wrapping around his arms under the flannel blankets.
Then, Lawrence felt the tingle of Adam's hand touching his, the warmth of the other man's grasp, and the sensation of Adam's warm breath against his neck.
Adam guided Lawrence's hand to brush over his stomach, allowing his shirt to ride up and trace the hair that marked the beginning of the younger man's happy trail. With a mutual understanding, Lawrence knew exactly where this was leading, reaching into Adam's pants to feel his arousal.
Turning around, the doctor locked eyes with the cowboy, their breath quickening as Adam leaned in for a kiss. In that moment, the short time they had spent together felt like an eternity, with the familiarity of Adam's presence and the warmth of the kiss enveloping them both.
As Adam pulled down his pants, releasing himself, Lawrence backed up into him, his body yearning for closeness.
Adam hesitated, his voice trembling as he asked, "Are you sure?" His cock throbbed against Lawrence's back, seeking confirmation.
"Please," Lawrence begged, urgency in his tone. Adam wasted no time, spitting into his hand, sucking his finger, and circling the outside of Lawrence's entrance. As soon as Lawrence permitted him entry, he moaned, nearly crying out from the sensation of Adam's fingers stimulating his prostate.
With a few preparatory movements, Lawrence readied himself to welcome all of Adam's length.
"L-Larry," Adam's voice quivered as he pushed into him. Lawrence melted into the younger man's embrace, feeling every inch of him entering from behind, seeking the sensation of his head against his prostate. “Ah, fuck,” Lawrence yelled out, every movement shooting through his system, bringing him to his finish.
With each thrust, Adam kissed the back of the doctor's ear. In just a few moments, both of them found release, collapsing together into the sleeping bag of the pup tent.
And thus began the whole journey of their affair.
—
The summer ended as quickly as it arrived.
He regretted not holding Adam more, not kissing him boldly in the town square despite the potential violence they might have faced. He had to return to his family, and Adam to his.
Watching the younger man's truck fade into the distance, Lawrence's legs gave out, his kneecaps hitting the hard ground. Yet, the physical impact felt insignificant compared to the absence of Adam.
And so, like a man reverting to childhood, Lawrence sobbed openly, mourning the love of the summer of '63.
—
“This letter is long overdue, friend. I’m coming through town on the 24th, so drop me a line if you’re available
Adam”
Lawrence's hands trembled as he lifted the postcard to his nose, hoping to catch a hint of Adam's scent, his body buzzing with excitement. The annoyances of earlier patients and the rising practice water bill faded to secondary concerns—finally, after four years, he would see him again.
Taking a pen from the front desk, he scribbled in his messiest, most excited handwriting, “You bet,” and threw the postcard into the mailbox.
"Dr. Gordon, the patient is in the waiting room," the nurse called out, snapping Lawrence from his reverie. Slipping the postcard into his back pocket, he felt rejuvenated, finally knowing he would soon reunite with the man from the Summer of '63.
“Coming,” he replied, finding the same youthfulness in his step that existed by the campfire so many years ago.
His friend from Brokeback, Adam Faulkner-Stanheight.
—
Lawrence anxiously fidgeted with his thumbs on the couch. Alison entered the room, her expression confused, remembering a less shaken-up Lawrence on their wedding day. Meanwhile, Diana perched on the kitchen counter, nibbling a biscuit, her legs swinging against the wooden cabinetry.
After a stretch of silence, Alison interjected, “Maybe I could call the neighbors to watch Diana. We could take your friend to that diner downtown since he's our guest.”
Lawrence shook his head, remaining tense with pursed lips. “Adam isn’t the diner type. More likely, we'll end up at a bar and get drunk. If he even shows up—”
Suddenly, the sound of a muffler broke through the air, halting Lawrence in his tracks. Jumping up, the doctor became like a child on Christmas morning, slamming the door open and rushing down the stairs.
Then he saw him; the man stepped out of the pickup truck, into the light of the day.
Adam hadn't changed much. His bare face, marked with star-shaped acne scars, was now covered in stubble. He still wore the oversized black cowboy hat, which now seemed to lend him a more mature edge. His white and teal striped flannel replaced with a red plaid, bringing out the green in his eyes and contrasting with his dark, wavy locks.
"Adam!" Lawrence yelled from the balcony, then dashed down the stairs to meet the other man. Like a dog rushing to its master's side, they converged, drawn together like magnets. They embraced tightly, and Lawrence pulled Adam into the alley, breathing heavily, whispering "son of a bitch" into his mouth as they held each other close.
From the window, Alison peered out to see the two men locked in a kiss, their arms tightly embracing each other.
Her expression was blank, the doctor's wife’s face a picture of betrayal, but not surprise.
—
Lawrence's bare chest is covered in hair, his stomach soft. The motel room glows with candlelight, the walls stained with two years of longing, hunger, and yearning for each other. Adam rests his head against the doctor's chest, finally sighing with relief, reaching forward to place his hand against Lawrence's right breast. Its only then that Lawrence notices the patch of skin on the man's arm, a perfect square.
Adam rolled over, momentarily exposing the scars that aligned his chest, catching Lawrence's eye. Adam's body that he loved so much. Each part of it, his Adam. Finally returned to him.
Nothing could erase the lovestruck smiles from their faces; their reunion was and filled with longing.
Adam breaks the silence first.
“We gotta talk about this. I thought we weren’t ever gonna get into this again.”
Lawrence responded by shrugging, looking down at the brunette man, face still stained with post-sex glow.
“I’m surprised I didn’t get pulled over Larry, I sped all the way here.”
The doctor leaned forward, running a hand through Adam's hair, savoring his scent. "Four years. I thought you'd gone back to Texas and forgotten all about me."
"Never," Adam replied, a hint of amusement in his chuckle. "But we've got a situation here. We need to talk about it."
Lawrence's face twisted into a grimace. "I always thought I liked doing this with women, but I've never experienced anything like this. I mean, that's a lie -” The doctor choked on his own words, contemplating the confession that left his lips. “I knew I liked men. I just never let myself admit it until you."
Adam sat up, looking at the other man in the eyes, face flushed as he leaned in to kiss the doctor.
“Brokeback got us good.”
Lawrence continued to kiss the other man's head, feeling the sweat on his forehead and savoring the taste of him on his lips. As he awaited a response, Adam pressed on with his thoughts.
"Here's what I'm thinking. What if we just... got ourselves a farm, settled down near the mountain, where no one would bother us. Hell, I'm sure Alison would understand."
Lawrence's heart sank.
"That's not going to happen. I don't think I can do that."
Adam looked up, watching Lawrence stare into space, like a trance that sent him back in time.
“What I’m saying Adam - I don’t want either of us dead.”
So, Adam didn't push. He understood the reality of their situation. The night continued with candlelight, filled with the weighty silence that hung in the air, their worlds colliding and crashing with every moment that passed in the motel room.
Dead or alive, they were in it.
—
“Alison and I divorced” is all the letter said.
Next thing he knows, Adam’s packing up, driving with his heart beating a thousand miles a minute towards Lawrence.
—
The truck stop was an easy destination for their meeting, and of course, Lawrence had sold his car, replaced with a modest Ford. Exiting the car, Lawrence’s gaze immediately transfixed on the younger man his heart beat for.
“I got your message,” Adam coughed, near tears. “I’m ready. I’m here.”
The embrace is brief yet tight, imbued with both finality and an underlying sense of openness.
In a hushed tone, Lawrence pulls back, placing his hands on Adam's shoulders to gaze directly into his eyes.
“I need some time. One day, I promise. Please.”
Without exchanging a word, Adam turned his back on Lawrence and headed towards the car. With a final glance at the older man, he pulled open the door of the pickup truck and slammed it shut.
Lawrence stood there, watching as the truck disappeared into the distance, feeling the same gut-punch sensation he experienced all those years ago, watching Adam drive away on Brokeback.
Once a man, twice a child.
—
“Sometimes I miss you so much I just can’t stand it.”
Adam's beard had grown in, and he appeared different from the man Lawrence had known all those years ago. Lawrence's own hair was now grayed, with stubble etching his face, marking the passage of time.
"You said one day," Adam coughed, stubbing out his cigarette. "It's been 10 years. How soon is it?"
Lawrence stood gazing out towards the lake that defined the valleys of Brokeback, frozen with fear, unable to respond.
Finally, he stammered, "I-I don't know, Adam."
That was enough to set off the frailer man. Adam darted forward, whipping around to face the doctor. "Now you listen to me—"
Lawrence barked back, knowing he had ignited something, the forests of the last decade collapsing around them like burning embers. "Say it."
"We could have had a real good life. We still could."
Lawrence felt like he was breaking, as if Adam had pulled a gun from his pocket and shot him through the chest.
"But you wouldn't take that risk, Lawrence! All we have—all we've ever had—is this damn mountain and each other! All we have is Brokeback Mountain!"
Before Lawrence could collapse, Adam's final words shattered him.
"I wish I knew how to quit you."
Driven by a primal urge, Lawrence darted forward, taking the smaller man in his arms, embracing him, pulling him down onto the ground, desperate for his open mouth to kiss him.
"Don't—please—" Lawrence begged. "I don't know why you don't just quit me."
Adam's face was already wet with tears as he held Lawrence close, their bodies entwining, collapsing into each other like waves against the shore.
The warmth of Lawrence's jacket reminded them both of that first night in the tent, when they had wrapped themselves in the warmth of their bodies, igniting a flame that had never truly faded.
"I can't," Adam replied hoarsley. "I'm too far gone. You're stuck with me, Lawrence. Hope you know what you're in for."
As if starving for years, the kisses between them seemed endless, and Lawrence let go of the crippling fear that had defined his life for so long—Adam was his, always and forever.
His friend from Brokeback, Summer of '63.
The love of his life, on Brokeback, Summer of '63.
—
"You still kept that old thing?"
Adam walked into the living room of the doublewide, carrying two plates of omelets, and observed Lawrence pinning up the postcard.
"Course I did." Lawrence murmured to himself.
Under the postcard, he hung up their two flannel shirts, the blue on top of the white and teal, creating an altar to that place that tied them together like a force of nature. "Come here." He motioned for the other man to join him, taking in the moment.
Setting the omelets on the table, Adam hurried to join Lawrence's side as they stood together, gazing at the two shirts still stained with dirt, blood, and sweat, frozen in time.
"Adam, I swear," Lawrence breathed out, reaching to cup his cheek and landing a soft kiss on his lips.
Listening to Adam's mischievous chuckle, Lawrence recalled the first look he ever had at the other man—the love of his life, the warmth of that summer breeze on Brokeback Mountain all those years ago.
—
Diana stood at the summit of the mountain, cradling two urns in her arms, accompanied by her wife Corbett and their two daughters, Alison and Laura.
In a poignant moment, Corbett gently encouraged Diana forward. "I know this is difficult, baby. They're together now."
Diana met her wife's supportive gaze, reflecting on the significance of the moment. "I always thought Brokeback was just a story. It's incredible that it's real. This is where they always wanted to be."
With a soft smile, Diana opened the urns, releasing the ashes into the wind, where they soared, forever intertwined with the mountain's essence.
In eternal tribute—a testament to their love on Brokeback Mountain.