A Sure Thing

Authors note: This was my first ever. And looking at it now, I can see I could have used a
good beta on this <g>. Plenty of first-timer mistakes abound, and it's about as sacharine
as I'll ever get. For me, it fulfilled its purpose: a gauntlet thrown, a challenge accepted. Z

---7777777---

Ezra sighed. Lucky in cards, unlucky in love. He shuffled the well-worn deck in his hands
idly. Well, at least the cards loved him, he thought ruefully. He cast a glance around the
now empty saloon. Inez was wiping down tables, humming quietly to herself.

It had been the last night in town for the cowpokes, and they had graced the saloon with
their profitable presence, laughing raucously and getting profoundly drunk. They had been
fighting good-naturedly amongst themselves and challenging the cardsharp to relieve them of
their hard-earned cash, and Ezra had been only too happy to oblige them. He had been
winning easily and the rest of the crowd had been engaged in a lot of well-behaved revelry.
Things on the whole had gone well, at least by the standards of the seven peacekeepers,
right up to the point where the brawl had broken out and then things had gone to shit pretty
fast.

Ezra sipped on his shot of whiskey and gingerly prodded his jaw where a bruise was slowly
turning a colorful purple. He picked up the deck of cards and danced them through his
fingers to settle his frayed nerves, as he allowed his mind to wander.

Ezra was gifted at cards, at poker and cons in general thanks to a memory that was as
sharp and clean as a knife. He could recall facts, faces, the order of cards falling and all the
lies he had ever told, with little effort. Pages from books read long ago were crystal clear in
his mind's eye. Sadly, this particular gift was currently his curse, as it all too proficiently
drew up images from the brawl, of the reactions of his fellow peacekeepers; their actions,
words and silent glances that pained him like a cold dagger lancing through his well-guarded
heart.

He remembered Vin taking a particularly bad beating from the largest cowpoke, the same
man who had accused Ezra of cheating, which had initiated the ugly fight. He remembered
the way the out-sized tracker had fallen bonelessly to the dusty floor after a vicious punch to
the gut. He remembered punching out his own opponent, who had been a good foot taller
than him, before leaping through the melee to get to his downed friend at the same time that
Chris Larabee had arrived on the scene, eyes blazing with barely contained rage. He
remembered grasping out to Vin, frantic to comfort him, to protect him. He remembered
looking on as his object of unrequited love looked desperately at Larabee with something
unreadable in his sky blue eyes. He remembered being dragged away from the tracker and
hoisted suddenly to his feet to stand in front of the enraged gunslinger, reflexes not quick
enough to prevent the hard fist from connecting violently with his jaw...

Clamping down on the depressing train of thought, Ezra gathered up the scattered cards and
replaced the pack neatly into his pocket, patting it into place with an action that was
habitual. He knocked back the last of his whiskey and drew himself up, not allowing any
outward expression of the pain that shot through his aching frame. His back protested
where a well-aimed chair had been broken across it earlier that evening.

With a polite nod and a goodnight wish to Inez, he slowly climbed the stairs to his room. He
was oblivious to the worried glance the Mexican barmaid gave his retreating form as she read
all to clearly the sadness, dejection and pain in the slump of his shoulders and the hitch in
his normally graceful walk.

Inez put down the rag and frowned. Her best friend was seriously out of sorts and she
suspected it had more than a little to do with the earlier actions of a certain long-haired
tracker.

-------

Vin grimaced to himself. A frown marred his handsome features as he lay in the darkness of
his wagon, listening to the night sounds outside. He was hurting something awful and it had
nothing to do with the pounding he had received in the saloon that night. He couldn't keep
the eyes of the gambler out of his mind. The fear and disappointment had been evident to
him, before the poker face slammed down. If he hadn't felt the pain radiating off the other
man, he might have thought he imagined those emotions that crossed his face so swiftly,
with the speed that they were gone. The poker face too resolute and impenetrable that Vin
might have even questioned his own eyes in that moment. But he knew then that Ezra's
heart had been silently breaking, as he had shied away from his touch and looked to
Larabee for help, and the pain of knowing hurt him so bad that he thought he could just curl
up and die.

And then Chris had struck Ezra...

Vin's thoughts drifted to the quiet gunslinger. He had been going with Chris on-and-off for
some time now, the two of them finding release in each other's bodies when the need grew
too strong. But for Vin, and for Chris, it was just a safe place to stick it, a way to satisfy a
natural urge that would release pent-up frustration and wants, without risking their hearts or
lives. Vin admired and respected Chris and loved him like the brother he never had. Chris
likewise cared for Vin. But that was all it was: a kinship that surpassed mere blood ties and
a friendship that allowed an intimacy that was given without any strings attached, no
repercussions. Either one could walk away at anytime and no-one would be left feeling hurt.

Hell, there was even that one time when Chris was away - that time when he hadn't come
back for so long that they finally set out to track him only to find him imprisoned in that
hellhole in Yuma - when Vin had turned to Buck to satisfy his needs. Damn, the things that
man could do with his mouth were unnatural. No wonder he was so popular with the ladies.

Buck had approached Vin and suggested they meet later for a private discussion and Vin
wondered if his moustachioed friend had seen the way that he had been drowning without
Larabee to help take the edge off his hunger for a certain Southern gentleman. As the days
had passed, Vin had been getting less and less able to control his arousal around Ezra and
Buck had picked up on his desperation, perhaps even knew the cause of it and friend that he
was, had offered to help him out.

Vin was thankful for Buck's friendship that night, as he came over and over again, fast and
hard, imagining smooth skin and a southern voice whispering endearments in his ear,
imagining agile talented hands touching him intimately. Before Buck's intervention, he had
come dangerously close to finally slipping up with the gambler, to dragging his unwilling
body over the poker table and taking him in front of the whole saloon.

He ran a tired hand over his stubbled face, trying to smooth out the worry lines and
deliberately trying to relax his jaw as his teeth ground together painfully. He knew that he
was lying to himself. Ezra did return his lustful feelings. Of that he was certain. He could
feel it in every glance of those emerald eyes, the electricity that sparked whenever they got
too close to one another.

And there in lay the problem. Vin just wanted to fuck Ezra's brains out. Continually. Over
and over until he was hoarse from crying out. Yet in Ezra he sensed something deeper. A
wanting, a yearning for something more and that was what had him running scared. With
Chris and Buck it was just sex, a tight pliant body to use, nothing more. With Ezra there
would be emotions involved. There would be tenderness, and a need for him on a level that
surpassed the purely physical. Ezra wouldn't fuck him, he would love him and Vin was
scared. Scared of hurting Ezra. Scared of losing the friendship they shared. Terrified of
breaking that heart of gold that was so well hidden and so damned fragile. The light would
go out of those mischievous green eyes and Vin would die from the pain of causing it, for he
did not return those deep feelings. It wasn't right. Wasn't natural.

Sure a lot of men found satisfaction in the company of other men, especially out on the trail
where women were rare. But love between two men? That was a perversion, against nature
and the idea of it sat in Vin's stomach like a hard knot of bitterness.

He didn't want a committed relationship. Hell, if he did there were women in town who would
offer him a stable and loving relationship in a heartbeat. Even Mary had flirted with him on
more than one occasion, though he couldn't figure why when it seemed clear that she had
set her sights on Chris. If he didn't want it from a woman, why the hell would he want it from
a man?

Unlike Chris, he had no desire to visit the cat-house, where women were available for a price.
Who was he kidding though, he could find willing female partners in town just as easily as
Buck - no, women just didn't do it for him. That was why he took his pleasure from Chris and
Buck - women just didn't appeal to him in that way. They were too soft, too small, too
fragile, submissive - nothing at all like... he clamped down on that train of thought.

Vin hated himself for using his friends. Hated himself for thinking of Ezra as he pounded into
them, recalling those fancy words, the southern drawl and talented fingers when they were
taking their satisfaction out of him, having to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood as he
came to prevent him from calling out his Southerner's name.

A hopeful thought flitted through Vin's mind - maybe another woman would come along and
tempt him to leave, like Charlotte had. Charlotte, Vin grimaced.

"Huhn, quit fooling yerself, Tanner," he muttered angrily.

He had wanted to run away then. Leave them all behind because his feelings were wrapped
thick around his heart like a vice and were choking him, stifling him. Because every time he
looked at Ezra he saw him as he had seen him that day in the street, clambering on top of
the Nichols' brothers contraption, whiskey bottle in hand as the bullets had flown around him.
In that moment Vin had known true fear.

He and Nate had been circling round the back of them, but terror had rooted him to the spot
as he saw Ezra ducking and dodging the flying lead. All of his abilities had deserted him as
ice ran through his veins. His heart had stopped beating, frozen in time. Unable to move
until Nathan had clapped him on the back, breaking him from his reverie, and asked him if he
were alright, looking at him with curiosity and more than a little concern. Seeing Ezra dusty
but unharmed, sauntering over to the bodies of the fallen brothers, he had sank to the floor,
shaking a little as the grip around his heart loosened and the world returned to him. Slowly
he had steeled his resolve and managed to regain his feet to go check on the others.

As he had rode with them on the wagon train, all he could think of was Ezra being thrown
from the steel wagon by the blast, and the fear that had paralysed him then, as he knew it
could again. He couldn't operate as a lawman, or be trusted to back up his friends if he froze
every time Ezra did something risky - which was pretty much all the damned time.

So he had ran, but in the end he had come back, unable to desert his friends in their hour of
need, unable to risk Ezra being harmed because of his absence.

Tossing and turning, he failed to stop his mind from dwelling on the smooth Southerner.
Calling himself all kinds of fool, Vin slipped out of his wagon into the cool night air. He
glanced around the deserted streets, happy that no one else was about in the dead of the
night. He quietly but surely walked to the saloon and snuck inside.

Startled to a halt, he found himself face to face with Inez, who was holding a damp wash
cloth and staring at him with an expression that was not easily read, but somehow conveyed
disappointment, anger and a threat of something profoundly unpleasant. He opened his
mouth to greet her, but she interrupted him with a wave of the cloth.

"Senor Standish has retired to his room," she said brusquely, standing resolutely between
the tracker and the stairs.

"I need ta talk ta him," Vin said in an urgent tone, pleading her permission with sad blue
eyes.

Inez felt her heart melt a little at the emotions she could read in his worried features. "If you
hurt him again, I will shoot you," she said simply, crossing her arms and gesturing to the bar
where she kept her shotgun with a tilt of her head.

Vin nodded, knowing full well that the feisty senorita would be true to her word.

Inez stood aside to allow Vin to pass. As he did so, she brushed his arm with her hand and
offered him a small smile. "Good luck, Senor. You will need it."

Vin smiled sadly, then raised his finger to the brim of his slouch hat in a salute as he started
up the stairs, determined to follow this through before his resolve left him. It was time he
stopped running from his fears. Time he was brave enough to ask the right questions of his
heart and to answer them honestly. Time to stop hiding behind empty excuses that day by
day grew weaker and more pathetically transparent. Time to knock on Ezra's door. Shit.
Vin held his breath, shutting his eyes to gather his nerve and knocked hesitantly, but loud
enough to wake Ezra should he be slumbering.

Ezra opened the door, his eyes squinting at the light from the corridor. He was rumpled,
having fallen asleep with his clothes still on, his hair all mussed up as if he had been
dragging his fingers through it, his jaw sporting a discoloured bruise courtesy of Chris' fist.
He looked tired, sad, beaten and just downright awful.

He looked absolutely beautiful.

Vin opened his mouth to say something, only to realise that he had no breath with which to
speak. His eyes raked over Ezra, his brows knitting in concern as he took in the awkward
stance that screamed out the pain of an injured body. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "you
alright, Ez?"

Ezra stood there, wavering slightly in the doorway, an unreadable poker face firmly in place.
"I am fine, Mr Tanner, although I do not appreciate having been dragged from the comfort of
my feather bed to have to answer you that."

"Hell, I'm sorry Ez. I couldn't sleep."

"Really?" Ezra drawled, emerald gaze unflinchingly meeting his own. "It seems that
morpheus' grip eludes me also." At the lack of understanding in Vin's eyes, he arched an
elegant eyebrow and clarified: "Neither can I."

"D'ya mind if I come in fer a bit? Mebbe fer a game of chance?" Vin asked, trying
desperately to keep the pleading tone out of his voice. He was so close to Ezra that he
could feel the heat coming off him in waves, could smell his whiskey breath and the subtle
fragrance of the fancy soap he used, with undertones of dust and horse and other smells of
the town and one that was purely Ezra. He fought the urge to take a deep inhalation of the
scent that could make his stomach tighten and his heart beat faster.

"Certainly, Mr Tanner." Ezra spun on his heel and left Vin to enter his room, closing the
door quietly behind him with a soft click.

"Ain't really here ta play cards with ya, Ez," Vin confessed, turning his hat nervously in his
hands, before determinedly putting it down on the dresser.

"Subterfuge, Mr Tanner? How very uncharacteristic of you," drawled Ezra, resting a graceful
hand against the bed-post. He turned to pick up his cards that lay on the bedside table,
unable to prevent a sharp intake of breath and a wince as abused muscles protested at the
action.

In an instant, the concerned tracker was by his side, holding his elbow held in a desperate
grip.

"Ya sure you're alright, Ez? Want me ta go get Nathan fer ya?" Vin asked, blue eyes wide
and appraising as he saw just how livid the bruise was in the better light of the bedside lamp.
Gently he grasped Ezra's chin and turned his head so that he could get a better view of the
damage done.

Shit, Larabee must have really clocked him one. His hands were suddenly batted away by a
flustered and annoyed gambler, who stalked back out of his personal space. Angry green
eyes were turned on him.

"I believe that I have already stated that I am fine."

"Yeah, an' I heard ya - its just that ya could have an arm missin' and still say yer fine."

"So now you are accusing me of deception?" asked Ezra, incredulity tainting his voice.

"No - it ain't that Ez" Vin placated. "Aw hell, this ain't what I had in mind..." he muttered,
sitting dejectedly on Ezra's plush bed, resting his head in his hands.

"Just what did you have in mind, Mr Tanner?" asked Ezra.

Silence reigned for several minutes, as Ezra allowed Vin to gather his thoughts.

With a determined nod to himself, the tracker met Ezra's questioning gaze. "Been meaning
to apologise to ya," he said, waving a hand to silence Ezra when he would have interrupted.
"Been acting like a damned coward, a fool, and ya sure ain't deserved the way Chris has
been treating ya lately," he added, frowning again at the mark that marred his conman's
beautiful face.

"Yes, well, Mr Larabee does like to lash out sometimes. I merely made the mistake of
standing in his way on this occasion," said Ezra, lightly fingering his jaw.

Vin just watched him, knowing that Ezra was willingly lying to him, trying to take the blame
for the ugliness that had ended the evening, knowing that Ezra was well aware that there
was more to it than Chris' usual mean temper.

Ezra saw the look in Vin's eyes and knew that his lie had not been entirely believable.
Trying a more honest approach, he said, "He was merely looking out for a friend..."

"You're his friend too, dammit!" stated Vin, angry that Ezra was once again taking the blame
onto himself. Ezra gave him a look that damn near shouted that he did not agree with the
veracity of his statement.

Vin knew he had to explain the gunslinger's actions. It wouldn't do to have Ezra thinking that
Chris didn't consider him a friend. Hell, Larabee was mighty fond of the frustrating
southerner and on more than one occasion had remarked to Vin that the seven were damned
lucky to have such a devious character in their midst. Vin chose not to repeat that though,
knowing how Ezra would twist the words said in admiration into a personal slight. He didn't
know where to start, staring at the floor again, he started to quietly explain what had
happened and why.

"It ain't like he really meant to hit ya, Ez. It's just his temper gets away with him
sometimes. He was only trying to protect me..."

"Protect you? From whom? Surely you don't mean..." Ezra paled, as he realised that Vin
was indeed referring to him. "Why on earth would you need protecting from me?" he
stammered, the hurt glancing across his features before disappearing once more, his head
bowed.

"Don't need protecting from ya, Ez... its just that... I got... I get... I kinda panic when people
fuss over me," he tried to explain, realising that he sounded pitifully lame.

"I see," stated Ezra, flatly.

"No, you don't see," said Vin. Time to swallow it up, he thought. Time to tell him the truth
and have done with it. Time to stop running. Time to get shot 'cause I been reading him
wrong all this time.

Vin swallowed hard around the nervous lump in his throat. "I got feelin's for ya, Ez..."

Ezra looked up abruptly, startled green eyes wild, locking briefly on nervous blue, before
finding a particularly interesting spot on the floor by his feet again.

"...an' I reckon ya got feelin's fer me...." Vin continued, leaving the question hanging in the air
like an uncomfortable presence between them.

When Ezra failed to look up, shoot him or answer him, Vin shook his head and continued
"an' those feelin's have had me runnin' scared."

Finally finding his voice, Ezra spoke so quietly that Vin had to strain to hear him "But you
are with Mr Larabee..."

The sorrow in that sweet southern drawl had Vin's heart breaking all over again. He cursed
his selfishness, the way he had blindly hurt his friend, a man he wouldn't have intentionally
hurt should his life depend on it.

"It weren't like what yer thinkin'," he said, reaching for and claiming one of Ezra's hands in a
desperate grip. "Chris was... ah hell, he was just a body ta find comfort in. Buck too," he
confessed.

Ezra twisted his hand out of Vin's grip, running it through his hair. Vin watched as the
revelation struck another blow on that wounded heart.

"I don't see how that is supposed to make me feel better," he ground out, avoiding Vin's
gaze.

"I know. I'd take it back in a second if I could. Didn't think I'd ever come to ya, so it didn't
matter at the time."

"Because you were scared," sighed Ezra, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Because I was scared of what ya wanted from me," Vin answered, reaching out and
clasping that hand again, entwining his fingers with Ezra's.

"I'd never demand of you any more than you were willing to give..." Ezra implored.

"Maybe not from here" he caressed Ezra's temple with his free hand, callused fingers
catching in the chestnut locks, "but from here," he dropped his hand to rest over the
gambler's wildly beating heart. "Ya'd be calling to me from here," he said. "Ya been calling
out ta me for some time now, and I thought that being with Chris and Buck would help me
not ta hear it... and it did, fer a while," he added sadly.

"So why now?" asked Ezra.

"After Chris hit ya... I saw the way you looked at us. Yer damned poker face wasn't quick
enough ta hide yer feelin's then." Vin dropped his gaze to where his hand was entwined with
Ezra's. "I never wanted to hurt ya Ez, but right then I knew that that's exactly what I'd been
doin'. Hurtin' ya. Every fuckin' day I've been hurtin' ya. An' it just about kills me ta know it."

He watched as Ezra's hand left his and came up to gently wipe his cheek of the errant tears
that had fallen unnoticed. Looking up into emerald eyes, his vision wavered and he blinked
as more silent tears ran down his face. "I'm so sorry, Ez..." he whispered huskily, his voice
failing him.

"Hush now," soothed Ezra, as he moved to sit next to the broken man who he had longed for
from afar for so long. He gathered Vin into a comforting embrace and encouraged him to rest
his head on his chest as silent sobs wracked through his lean frame. He slowly rubbed
Vin's shaking back, softly crooning to him that everything was alright, that he was forgiven,
that he was loved.

Between sobs, Vin whispered "so sorry" over and over, as he wept on his friend's shoulder,
burying his face into the crook of his gambler's neck as though trying to lose himself in him.

Ezra's arms tightened around the distraught tracker and hugged him into a fierce embrace,
realising that all this time he hadn't been the only one suffering, not the only one longing for
something he thought could never be.

It wasn't that Vin didn't want him, it was that he did want him, and that had terrified him. And
Ezra did understand. He understood only too well. Ezra had kept his heart shielded out of
the same fear, the fear of love and the power of it.

But he had fallen in love with Vin regardless of all his efforts not to and he trusted him, and
now he knew that Vin loved him too. It was like a dead weight had been lifted off his chest
and his heart soared.

He climbed into his bed, tugging Vin to lay back with him, assisting him with the removal of
his capote and placing the Mare's Leg within reach on the bedside table. He pulled the
weary tracker back into his arms and dragged the blanket over them both, holding the cold
body to his own, sharing his warmth as the shivers subsided.

Ezra revelled in the comfort to be had from holding Vin close, snuggled together under his
down-filled blanket, protected from the harsh unforgiving world outside. Giving his one true
love exactly what he needed - his comfort, acceptance and love expressed in action not
words. Later there would be time for questions. Later there would be a long talk, perhaps
over some of the unopened bottle of brandy that he had hidden in his closet for special
occasions. Later... but right now all they needed was to be wrapped up in each others arms,
holding each other tightly as if afraid to let go, sharing body warmth, breath and heart beat
with one another.

Gently stroking Vin's stubbled jaw as it rested against his chest, Ezra mumbled, "I want to
be with you, Vin. You want to be with me. There is nothing to be afraid of. Nothing will
happen between us that you do not feel comfortable with. I would never try to tie you down."

"That's a damn disappointment," said Vin suggestively, his voice muffled as his head rested
over Ezra's heart.

"Well, of course, I will do my utmost to never disappoint you," Ezra retorted, the playfulness
that Vin loved and had missed so much returning to his drawl.

"I bet ya will," murmured Vin sleepily, grinning against Ezra's chest.

"Well, as you know - I abhor gambling, and as such leave nothing to chance," quipped Ezra,
running his hands through Vin's tousled mane.

"Ain't gotta chance anythin' with me Ez. Reckon what we got here is a sure thing," he said,
tightening his embrace, wrapping a free leg around Ezra's, pulling him closer and entwining
them further.

"A sure thing indeed," mumbled Ezra, as he followed his love into a contented, peaceful
sleep.

FIN

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