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This God damned wind

Summary:

You notice Javier passing time at the edge of the camp and he doesn't seem entirely okay to you.

Notes:

I wrote this at 2am and refuse to check it until I feel better

Work Text:

It was that song again. The sad song one could only heard late at night if a certain someone couldn't sleep.

"Angel de amor, tu pasion no la comprendo..."

You raised your head from a book you tried to read at the camp table when Javier's quiet voice reached your ears.

He was sitting alone, at the edge of the camp in Horseshoe Overlook, leaning on a trunk that was usually occupied by John. But scar-face was asleep, so Javier could enjoy the solitude; or maybe he simply felt like singing, wanting to distance himself enough so he doesn't wake the others. Whatever it was, that night Javier's voice... broke a couple of times. It wasn't a challenging or a new song for him – didn't make sense that Javier's angelic voice could falter.

Keeping the book in your hands, you made your way to him, not caring much about making noise. Bill, Sean and Reverend were dead asleep, either snoring or buried under covers. The cold of Heartland's nights wasn't as bad as the one in the mountains, but Miss Grimshaw kept reminding everyone this still ain't a tropical island. You had a thick coat on you arms, Javier however lacked anything on his.

"You alright, Javier?" You stopping next to him when he finished the lyrics.

"I'll be fine. No need to worry," he answered without looking at you.

His fingers still worked on the guitar's strings elongating the melody until he finally letting it die when you knelt next to him.

"You shouldn't sit on the ground." A pat on the grass let you know how chill and wet it was. "Might catch a cold from that and we don't have the greatest doctor in the camp."

"Are you sure Miss Grimshaw's spirit hasn't possessed you? Who knows, maybe it travels between us when she's asleep."

You laughed at his joke and patted his arm. "Come on, let's get back to the camp fire. No one will mind if you sing there."

"I ain't exactly concerned with that." He looked at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight and fire. "It's the only time Marston doesn't occupy my favorite spot."

"You can always tell him to get. He doesn't own the place," you grumbled, looking back at his tent. It was time to get the rest of the tents to look like that. Wind could get into Javier's way too easily. It barely protected him from rain.

"Yea..." His voice was more raspy when he drifted away for a moment, straining his answer. "But I want to let him enjoy himself a bit more after that mountain business."

"Do that too much and he will be even more spoiled than he already is."

"Can't get much worse."

You both laughed, Javier leaning back and looking up the stars as he calmed down. The leaves, shaking on the wind, covered the most of the bear constellations, but the view to the west was free as the west itself. No wonder so many members of the gang subconsciously looked in that direction when enjoying the view. What a coincidence.

"You... might be right about that cold." Javier shivered a little standing up and offering you a hand to stand up. "The campfire doesn't sound so bad after all. Maldito viento..."

"I think Charles made some... cherry juice. Not sure what that exactly is, but he got some cinnamon in it. Expressive stuff. Real good and sweet when you warm it. Sounds good?"

"For sure," he responded with a smile.

Once you were back at the fire, he leaned on his guitar as he watched you take out the jug with the juice and warmed it on the open fire. His gaze hazy as he began drifting away from the warmth and the delicious scent. Sweet aroma of cherries mixed with faint spiciness of cinnamon melting his previous worries away.

You poured the drink from the metal cup you warmed it up in into a glass and passed it to him, warning him that you weren’t sure how hot it is. He thanked with a nod and smelled it, a cat-like smile making his face relax. It only widened further when he tasted it.

“You know, amigo," you began trying your best in his language, "you deserve some good, warm rest." You reaches for a blanket and threw it over his shoulders. “You did great on that last job.”

In fact, he simply looked sick and didn’t act nor smelled like typical drunk Javier. You didn’t have a good excuse to check his temperature, so you figured the best way is to just prevent it the best you could, without making him think you worry that much.

He swayed from side to side, melting away. Fever must have taking him over when he leaned on your shoulder, his forehead brushing against your neck. You sighed and patted his shoulder, feeling how hot it was.

“Come on, time for bed,” you encouraged him and pulled him towards his tent.

No complain left his mouth when he lied down setting the glass down. You tugged him in and took of his hat and loosened his jet black hair. Javier yawned and sniffed again reaching for your arm.

“Thanks,” he murmured and smiled when you put your hand on his, squeezing reassuringly.

“As Dutch would say," you made fun on his voice, "We. Need you strong.”

You barely heard his little chuckle before he quickly fell asleep and felt his hand slip away. He didn't need much. Just a friend to get him there without pushing it.