Work Text:
Baptiste tried to keep his laughter strictly behind his lips, his shoulder-shaking to a minimum, and his smile as narrow as possible.
He couldn't afford to mess up his recording, after all. It was going into his personal collection.
Jean looked at the scene in front of him through his phone’s lens: Cole, in an even more stereotypically cowboy get-up than usual, riding an honest to go mechanical bull. Before today, Baptiste had only seen those things in movies!
When they had first entered the dingy bar in Santa Fe, Jean had been skeptical. But now, as he watched Cassidy’s hips rocking against the robotic animal doing its best to throw him off its back, he could feel himself coming around to the sweet, southern charm of the place.
A sudden, exhilarated hoot from Cole reined in his wandering thoughts. With a covert look around, Baptiste realized he wasn’t the only one who it had had that effect on, as most of the saloon had its eyes on the way Cassidy holding onto his hat made sure to expose both his toned arms (on account of his rolled up sleeves) and his stomach at the same time.
That soured his mood.
He caught himself before his shoulders sagged too low. Soured his mood? What right did he have to be upset about random people rightfully appreciating something that wasn’t his? The answer to that rhetorical question nagged at the back of his head, before swiftly travelling down deep into his gut and settling there, rolling and aching. None.
Baptiste had realized he was in love with Cole Cassidy a while ago, now.
He just wasn’t sure what the hell to do about it.
The realization came during an otherwise nondescript evening shared between the two, much like the one he was dutifully recording right now. It had sent dismay and pleasure zinging up his spine in equal measure, and had almost made him shut the cowboy out of his personal life in a panic. Thankfully, he’d gathered himself long enough to not do something as stupid as ruin their friendship over a crush.
And if he really needed to, during those lonely nights where his insomnia kept him staring at the ceiling instead of the sharp darkness of the backs of his eyelids, he could almost trick himself into believing it was just that- a simple crush. Occasionally staring dreamily into your friend’s eyes was normal! He’s just hot! It would be weirder if I didn’t do that!
But Baptiste knew lust, and while there was quite a bit of it nagging at him when he looked at his friend, it most definitely was not the only, or even the most intense, feeling that did so.
Thus, he allowed no such delusions to take over him now. He was positively whipped for the idiot currently drunkenly singing along to the country song blaring from the giant black speakers in the corners of the room, and he was admitting it to himself fully, if only in his mind.
He snickered as Cole began the process of getting up out of his seat to try and stand on the bull. It drew some hollers from the crowd. He looked like a newborn giraffe for about half a second, before he was suddenly surfing on the bull like he was catching a wave, a giant smile on his face.
God-damn professional.
That’s why Cole’s sudden yelp and roll off the bull forced a gasp out of him, as Baptiste quickly ended the recording and rushed to the edge of the plush riding area, leaning forward to take a quick assessment of the man currently laying on his back next to the metal base of the now inert animal. The smile on his scruffy face calmed the medic in him, and allowed a similar grin to blossom on his own.
Cassidy’s eyes flitted around the crowd like a bird, searching, until finally landing on his own. They lit up, in the dim room, as the man got up in order to stumble over to Baptiste, finally landing on the hard wood floor of the bar once again, his wobbly feet mostly under him. “How would you rate my performance?!” He did an exaggerated hip swivel as he yelled over the music, which did not have Baptiste thinking any impure thoughts at all.
“Other than the fact that you landed on your ass at the end? Stellar!” The sarcasm rolled off him in waves as he yelled back, but Cole knew better. The cowboy leaned in closer, until they were almost nose-to-nose, and spoke in a regular tone: “C’mon sugar, a real compliment, this time.” Baptiste inhaled sharply as he felt Cassidy’s rough palm land on his hip and squeeze. Probably just the alcohol getting to him.
Jean felt just about all the air leave his lungs and escape into the smoke-filled room. Finally, after a few moments of Cole staring into his eyes and wiggling his eyebrows cartoonishly, he relented. “Well, I guess you’ve proved you’re a real cowboy, after all—” Before he could finish, a giant grin broke out on Cole’s face as the hand previously holding his hip clapped him on the back, then snaked around to wrap around his shoulders.
He swore he could suddenly feel the vibrations from the speakers beating inside of his ribcage, but as Baptiste caught a few jealous glances in the crowd, he couldn’t help but smile at them. A few pairs of eyes travelled down as he tried to adjust his pants as subtly as possible.
To hell with caution, just for tonight.
He leaned into Cassidy’s warm side.
“That’s what I’m talking about! Oh— oh! You should try it out, too!” He poked Jean in the side playfully. “And! Let me record it— I saw that, by the way, I will be wantin’ to see that video later.”
Baptiste decided to ignore the second part of his statement. “I’d rather not get a head injury, thank you. I’ve never even been on a horse.” He squinted up at Cole, but he only rolled his eyes.
“It’s not like it requires much skill. Simple rule: hotter the person, longer they stay on the bull. All up to the operator’s tastes, I suppose, but I’d betcha anythin’ that they’d let you stay up there a—ll night.” Cole pronounced night in the same way a porno actor might, all stage-whisper-like and sensual, his mouth close enough to Jean’s ear for his breath to leave a trace. That’s just unfair, and he knows it.
Baptiste tried to mask the sudden flush of heat that whisper sent flooding over him by pushing the cowboy away and rolling his eyes. “Let’s get more fluids in y— stop grinning, not what I meant.” Cole, who had opened his mouth to interrupt Jean once already, opened it again. He was cut off in return. “And you also know I do not mean beer, or whiskey, or…”
Cole grabbed his fingers, which had been in the process of counting off all the different types of alcohol Cassidy liked to drink (it was an extensive list, and Baptiste was embarrassed to have learned it by heart). “Jeez, give me some credit! I knew you meant water! The other thing, though… Yeah, no. See, I thought you were implyin’—”
Jean arched an eyebrow, and tried to put on his best scolding tone. “Implying that you reek of alcohol laced sweat and will probably throw up if you have another glass of anything? Yes.” The pout on the other’s face was short-lived, quickly followed by more teasing about how Baptiste probably just couldn’t wait to go all housewife on him and hold his hair back in the bathroom as he lurched. The exaggerated air kisses and sickly-sweet nicknames were just the cherry on top. Baptiste ignored all of it, secretly smiling to himself, as to not give away how much the whole debacle really amused him, while he walked towards the bar, Cassidy following closely behind him. Chen.
And like an over-eager dog, Cole’s stirruped feet managed to find a wet spot on the ground just a few feet from the bar, sending him cartoonishly tumbling right onto his ass, hands flailing, hat flying, though thankfully not into the “mystery puddle”. A few people around them cursed as they side-stepped the man Baptiste was now giving a disapproving look to. He’d felt he deserved it, for the strong tug he’d felt on the back of his shirt right before the crash. The bastard had tried to take him down with him! “What did I tell you?”
Cassidy shrugged a shoulder as he picked up his beloved hat (can’t leave her on the dirty floor) and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. Wait. “Hey, didn’t throw up, did I?” Cole met his eyes, mumbling, and Jean could see he was a little annoyed at himself, maybe embarrassed.
Pause.
Something was wrong.
Baptiste felt the sudden urge to take a step back. Never one to go against his instincts, he did.
“Jean?” Cassidy was clearly confused, but Baptiste was hearing somebody else’s voice, some little gesture Cole had made transporting him back in time for a moment. Buddy? He thought about long, curly hair and a hulking form, and held his breath.
Jean could see on Cassidy’s face the moment the cowboy realized something was going on with him. The robotic hand he’d extended for Baptiste to take instead went to adjusting his hat. Perhaps wisely, Cole didn’t try to get up himself, instead leaning back on his arm, as if he was on the beach and not in the middle of a crowded saloon. He seemed more sober than he had been. A few people had stopped to stare at them.
Cassidy gave him an understanding look, and it made Baptiste feel instantly ridiculous.
The hell was wrong with him? Was he seriously going to leave his friend to sit on a dirty flood because he dared to touch his hair in a certain way? And what right did Cassidy have to look so unbothered about it all, anyway?
He stepped back towards him, uncaringly treading onto the liquid on the floor, sending anxious glances to the other patrons around them, his face burning. Cole didn’t take his eyes off him.
His hands balled up into fists as Baptise stared in dismay at Cassidy’s sudden, slightly tipsy smile. The cowboy, of course, was none the wiser to his friend’s sudden internal torment, or so anyone would think, if they didn’t know him the way Jean did. He was always giving him outs like that. “Well, pardner? Gonna help me up or not?” He nodded at Jean’s right hand.
Baptiste tried to give himself some slack.
His track record with relationships was… far from the best, that was all. He was just afraid of making another mistake.
Guys with big, shiny smiles loved ruining his life.
After a pause, he offered Cole his now clammy hand, and the westerner grinned wider as he grabbed it.
No caution. Mistakes, maybe, but no regrets.