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Jamie Dutton was freshly eighteen, soft and gentle. He was so unlike his father sometimes, but that didn't mean his mama hadn't loved the hell out of him when he was born. Her affection and his father’s affection for him had waned in later years, but Jamie still clung to the idea that he was the baby for about five minutes. Before Beth came along. And then Kayce. He and Beth were the middle kids, then, tossed aside for the eldest, Lee, who was daddy’s favorite, and Kayce, who was mama’s favorite.
He’d never resented Beth, not till after mama died. She became mean after that, prone to fits of sorrow and wailing in her bedroom coupled with fits of rage and lashing out. It depended on the day, but she had broken their middle child truce when she pushed him away. When he pushed her away too.
Jamie, in the meantime, watched the boy his daddy had pretty much adopted work on the ranch. His name was Rip Wheeler, and Jamie had been friends with the older boy when he’d come to the ranch. Rip and his sister had been closer than Jamie or John Dutton had liked, but both kept their mouths shut most days.
“You gon’ help me or sit there’n stare?” Rip asked, and Jamie hopped off the fence to take the reins of the horse, a flush on his pale cheeks. He’d never been able to tan properly, and Rip had always bronzed in the harsh sun he worked under. Even with his cowboy hat he wore. It always seemed to filter through.
“Sorry,” Jamie offered with a small hum. Rip just nodded, letting it slide. Jamie liked that about Rip. He wasn’t much of a grudge holder, and he was more patient than he let on. Most days. He was only a few years older than Jamie, 22 years old and already built like a man. Jamie was still scrawny but officially considered an adult.
He’d go off to college this coming August, and he’d admit, he was ready to get out of this Montana weather and on to Connecticut where the weather was a touch different. But he’d miss Montana. No doubt. The cool nights were always where Jamie thought best. His mind was never clouded or worrying over much of anything. He was only thinking about the cool evening and how nice it felt when he had his big jacket on with all the fuzzy lining.
“Where you at today, Jamie?” Rip asked as they put the horse back in the stable. Rip began to remove the saddle, and Jamie was quick to help him.
“Far off places,” he replied, voice soft and pitched low. Rip laughed at that, looking down at him as he pulled the saddle off. Jamie started to brush the horse, Rip opting to take the bridle off.
“Well, I suppose that ain’t too bad.”
They stood in silence for a bit before Rip noted the sun going down quick. He looked at Jamie before deciding something in that moment. Jamie had kicked the dirt off of his shoes and was on his way to leaving before Rip caught him by the elbow.
The touch was like lightning through his arm, warm and not unwelcome at all . Rip had them rough hands from working, and though Jamie had worked as a ranch hand most all his life, his hands weren’t nearly as rough or nice as Rip’s. He was stunned into silence for a minute, looking up at the man his sister had led on time and time again. They’d opted to take a break these past few years, considering she had met a guy at college she was seeing for the time. Rip never showed how much it hurt, but... Jamie could see it in his eyes whenever she’d bring him home to meet daddy.
“Why don’ you come out with me tonight? We can get piss drunk and be stupid.”
Jamie tried not to show the surprise on his face, but it must have been evident considering the laugh that bubbled out of Rip’s throat.
“Don’ worry. I ain’t gonna kill you or nothin’.”
“I ain’t worried about that,” Jamie breathed. “Gimme a bit to get out of these clothes, and I’ll meet you at the big house in half an hour.”
Rip nodded. “Sounds good. See you soon.”
Jamie pulled away, finally letting his cheeks flush as he rushed out of the stables in a hurry. He walked towards the house in a hurry, heart pounding. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous, but he felt his body tense up and release at the thought of spending time with Rip. He walked into the house past Kayce who was playing video games, some stupid Call of Duty game before he disappeared into his room and then his bathroom. A shower was in order, and it felt great against his hot skin. The dirt and sweat rolled off of him and made the water at his feet a mucky brown. He scrubs his hair, making sure the shampoo he uses smells better than the stuff he had last time.
Once he’s clean, he opts for casual clothing. At least, he opts for Montana casual. Levi’s, cowboy boots, and a flannel button down. He pulls on some sherpa lined tan coat, one his dad got him when he was 16 that still fit but was a little dirtier than it had been when he’d first opened it on Christmas.
He gels his hair as best as it’ll go, but it still manages to smart him and flip up. So, he puts on a hat to combat it. He looked nice, at least.
Making his way outside, he sits on the porch, waiting for Rip to come and get him. Sure enough, Rip is there right on time in his truck that he’d bought with his own money. He leans out of the window and whistles for him, and Jamie goes where he’s called. He hops into the passenger seat, and Rip pulls out without much preamble or thought. He doesn’t speak while they drive, but his truck stereo plays some oldies station that Jamie’s dad listened to all the time.
The windows were down, blowing in cool Montana air. The nights in Montana were always chilly, a nice, stark contrast to the hot days that made living up in the mountain not so bad. Jamie’d miss that. He assumed Connecticut wouldn’t be as forgiving. Probably just cold and wet. He didn’t know for sure.
They pulled onto a spit of land that was still part of the Dutton land, but it was far enough away from the big house to give some semblance of privacy. Rip cranked the radio, and he got out of the car, Jamie following behind him. They hopped in the bed of the truck and sat down, Rip producing a bottle of whiskey faster than Jamie had expected. He popped it open and took the first swig, offering the amber liquid to the younger of the two.
Jamie had been to parties before. He’d drank before, but he’d never done so in such an intimate situation. He took a drink anyway, wrinkling his nose at how strong it was. He cleared his throat, and Rip just laughed.
“Strong enough?”
“Yeah. This airplane fuel or something?”
Rip laughs again, nudging him. “No, that’s for later.”
They sit again in companionable silence, the music from the station drifting in and out of Jamie’s consciousness the longer he drinks. Eventually, a certain song comes on. Jamie smiles. It’s the song his mama and daddy used to dance to on their anniversary.
“Oh, shit. I love this song. C’mon,” Rip said, sitting up and tugging Jamie out of the truck bed and into the cool dirt of the mountains.
Southern nights
Have you ever felt a southern night?
Free as a breeze
Not to mention the trees
Whistling tunes that you know and love so.
Rip took Jamie’s hand and gripped his hip, pulling their bodies flush together. Rip was warm, broad chested, and perfect, dancing leisurely with Jamie as the song went on. The tune was not too slow or fast but the perfect combination of both, something romantic but fun.
Southern nights
Just as good even when closed your eyes
I apologize to anyone who can truly say
That he has found a better way.
Rip’s smile was present, beaming down Jamie as they danced, and the Dutton wanted to cling to Rip like a lifeline in that moment. He’d never felt like this before with anyone, safe and warm. He wondered if this was how Beth felt when she danced with him. He thought maybe not. Beth never depended on anyone anymore. Or, she tried not to.
“I’m gonna spin ya.”
“What?! ” But before Jamie could protest, Rip was spinning him out and pulling him back in. Jamie forgot to be embarrassed for a moment and simply laughed, falling into Rip’s chest with a little sigh of contentment. His head rested against the older man’s collarbone, and he was simply happy to be there.
Southern skies
Have you ever noticed southern skies?
Its precious beauty lies just beyond the eye
It goes running through your soul
Like the stories told of old
“You’re a lot sweeter’n Beth,” Rip mumbled in Jamie’s ear.
“How do you mean?” Jamie asks, but he knows the answer before he even says it.
“You smile easier.”
Jamie felt some pride at that, flushing red but resting his nose against Rip’s pulse point. His heart was steadily beating, but Jamie felt like his own heart was about to beat out of his chest. The rest of the world was quiet except for the sounds of the summer night mingling with the dulcet tones of Glen Campbell as they continued to dance.
Old man
He and his dog that walked the old land
Ev'ry flower touched his cold hand
As he slowly walked by
Weeping willows
Would cry for joy
Joy
He started to move Jamie a bit faster, dancing in time with the song. It was nice, moving to the song and moving through the night. It was getting warmer, and so Jamie slipped off his jacket and tossed it in the truck bed. Rip just smiled and resumed his hand placement, pulling Jamie closer now that there wasn’t a jacket in the way.
They were so uncomfortably close that Jamie couldn’t breathe. Rip smelled like leather and horses, a scent that made his heart all warm inside. Rip rested his forehead against Jamie’s, and they were suddenly far too close. He could feel their breath intermingling, eyes locked in a tight stare.
Feel so good
Feel so good
It's fright’ning
Wish I could
Stop this world from fighting
“Hey, Rip?” Jamie asked, and they slowed their dancing, swaying back and forth for a moment while Glen sang his “la da da’s.”
“Yeah, Jamie?” Rip answered, voice husky as they shifted their weight slowly.
“Why’d you really bring me out here?”
“Cause you’ve always treated me good. Like I ain’t a shit head little orphan boy that your daddy picked up by his scruff.”
“Why would I treat you any other way than good, Rip?”
He shrugs, still impossibly close. “Some folk’re mean just for the helluvit.”
“I’m not,” Jamie whispered.
“I know.”
Mysteries
Like this and many others in the trees
Blow in the night
In the southern skies
Jamie watched him for a moment more, hands sliding up along his arms to cup his cheeks. His thumbs brushed along Rip’s cheekbones before he glanced down. Rip’s lips were pulled up in a mischievous smile, and before Jamie could ask him, Rip had kissed him, lips barely brushing against Jamie’s. Their skin clung to the other’s, and Jamie let out the quietest little sigh against his lips.
Southern nights
They feel so good it's fright'ning
Wish I could
Stop this world from fighting
The last little “la da da’s” resounded, and Jamie was drunk. On Rip. On the alcohol. He was emboldened. As the countryside went quiet, the song fading into nothing, Jamie leaned up to kiss Rip again, sinking his fingers into his cropped hair and tugging him close. Rip responded instinctively, pulling the Dutton man into his arms and lifting him off the ground.
They kissed until Jamie couldn’t breathe, eyes almost misty from how good it was. Rip pulled away and smiled at him, reaching to brush black hair from Jamie’s face. They stayed like that for a while before another old country song started up.
They were interrupted by the sound of a radio crackling. “Rip? You there? Head back to the big house. John’s lookin’ fer Jamie. Little shit ran off or somethin’.”
Rip looked at Jamie and laughed, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his lips again. “Let’s get you back. I’ll say I found you out here drinkin’.”
“Sure, Rip. Get my ass in trouble,” Jamie mumbled, knocking their foreheads together. He knew they’d never be able to talk about this again. Never ever. No matter. Jamie could keep this with him forever, pull back on it when he was especially sad. Yeah. He’d always have this. No one could take that away. Not even Beth when she decided to come tugging Rip back into her orbit. Not even then.
“Your daddy won’t fire you,” he mumbled. “Then what’d we do?”
“I’d sneak out to see you in the city. If you didn’t wander too far,” Jamie breathed. Rip laughed again and sat him back onto his feet.
“I bet you would, Jamie Dutton. I bet you fuckin’ would.”