Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve leaned against the corral fence as the prison bus approached, recognizing Dmitri at the wheel. Stubbing out his cigarette with a sigh, he reached up to shove unruly locks back under his hat.

His head ached. His hand, too, but he sniffed and shook it out, then jammed in deep into the pocket of his Wranglers.

The sun was unforgiving today, beating down and causing his shirt to stick to his back with sweat. He swore he could almost hear the dirt sizzling under his feet, knew they’d have to get the program underway quickly today before it got too hot to work the horses.

The horses in question were waiting in a small pen off to one side of the corral; a collection of mustangs handpicked for the prison program. 'Handpicked', Steve knew, stood for ‘the ones left over that no one else wanted’, but that was ok. He’d give them the time and space to flourish here – there wasn’t a horse or an inmate he’d let down yet; not an inmate that wanted to be here, at least.

He watched as the jumpsuit-clad inmates hopped out of the bus. He recognized the look on most of their faces – either mild disgust or irritation at being all the way out here, some utterly uninterested, and a rare few looking around with something almost like eagerness at being somewhere other than a damn cell.

“Munson, hurry it up,” Hopper, one of the prison guards Steve knew well was grumbling. He was standing at the door of the bus, gesturing wearily for the final inmate to step down.

A young man with dark hair tied back in a bun shuffled out, taking in his surroundings slowly. Briefly, his gaze drifted to Steve, lingering there for a second before Hopper urged him forward. He looked like an anxious colt, all long limbs and nervous energy, his eyes darting from side to side, looking for any sort of threat.

Steve shook himself, because he’d almost felt those intense eyes on him, and walked over to greet the group.

“Welcome to the Wild Horse and Inmate Rehabilitation Program,” he rattled off in his slight southern drawl, “I’m Steve, this is Robin,” he gestured to his best friend who was holding the reins of Scoops, one of Steve’s old ranch horses. “Robin’s gonna talk ya’ll through a few rules and show ya the basics of safety around horses, and then -”

“Some of us already know this shit,” one of the inmates, an older guy with a scar down his cheek piped up with a scowl, “I’ve been around horses before, I’m not a fucking kid.”

Steve took it in his stride. He was used to dealing with guys like this, had been doing it for two years now.

He forced a smile. “Good, you’ll be able to help the others, then.”

The man sneered, spat in the dirt. Hopper rolled his eyes and stepped a little closer, his presence reminding the man to settle down.

Robin led Scoops closer, the old grey horse standing calmly as she explained the rules to the inmates and ran through some safety tips.

“Don’t make sudden moves or loud noises,” she was saying, “Don’t walk close behind them, leave some space in case they were to kick.”

“They actually do that?” The last inmate out of the bus – Munson, Steve remembered – asked, looking warily at Scoops’ back end.

“Not often,” Steve answered him, “And not our ranch horses, but you’re gonna be workin' with wild horses that have barely been handled before. They can be unpredictable, so it’s best to be careful.”

Munson looked at him again, dark eyes locking on Steve before returning to the ground. Steve noticed the shadow of a bruise surrounding one of his eyes, yellowing at the edges where it was starting to fade.

The first morning of a new group on the program always took a long time. Several hours passed as Steve and Robin slowly introduced the group to the basics, letting them pat, brush and lead Scoops, and then observing the mustangs in the pen. Steve quickly worked out which inmates were going to be problematic – knew Hopper and Dmitri were watching closely from the sidelines too, deciding which ones were going to be scrapped from the program early.

There was one that was a little harder to get a read on, though.

Munson hung back, neither arrogant or disinterested. Instead, he watched intently as everyone else worked with Scoops, but he never volunteered himself to come forward.

“You wanna try?” Steve asked him eventually, but the young man shook his head.

“I’m not good at that shit,” Munson mumbled, “I’m fine watching.”

“Well, you gotta actually participate in this program, ya know,” Steve added, but he was tactful, not pressing too hard. Some inmates took longer to come around to the idea than others, and he knew when to push and when to give space.

“Yeah, whatever man,” Munson muttered.

Steve shrugged, turned away. Munson hadn’t sounded aggressive or angry, just a little defeated. Not a great sign for the first day, but Steve hoped he’d feel better about the whole thing soon.

Because there was something about this guy that had piqued his interest a little. Munson was younger than most of the inmates that usually came through this program – close to Steve’s own age, he estimated. And there was something about his eyes – the darkness there, and the way he slumped a little as he stood, the way he watched the horses closely but wouldn’t approach – the man seemed sad.

“Steve’s gonna demonstrate a join-up with one of the mustangs, if you all want to come over to the fence to watch.” Robin beckoned the group over to the corral, where one of the mustangs had been let through from the neighbouring pen.

Steve eyed the horse, watched the bay gelding pace nervously up and down the fence, nose high in the air as he searched for a way back to his friends. When the horse was at the far end of the corral, Steve slipped quietly over the fence, bunching a length of rope up in his hands.

“So, Steve’s going to urge the horse to move around him for a while,” Robin explained as Steve uncoiled the rope a little and slapped it against his jean-clad thigh. “Remember these horses have barely been touched, so he’s gonna be nervous. Steve’ll move quietly, he’s not trying to scare him, just get his feet moving.”

Steve wiggled the rope and hissed softly through his teeth, the noise sending the horse skittering away from him and loping around the outer edge of the corral. Quietly, he cursed, wishing he’d remembered his gloves. The rope was wrapped around his knuckles, still sore and bruised from his altercation with the wall a few days ago.

If you could call him punching a hole in the barn wall in a rage an altercation, but that’s what he was going with for now.

He kept his effort up for several minutes, occasionally stepping into the horse’s path and sending him in the opposite direction. After a while he eased off, giving the horse a chance to slow to a halt.

“Now, Steve’s gonna see if this horse is ready to join up. Might be a bit soon, but I’ve seen him do it in less time than this,” Robin said, throwing him a small smirk.

Steve returned it, huffing out a laugh. Sweat dripped down his spine. The horse snorted loudly. Munson’s eyes bored into his back.

The horse looked at Steve for a moment, curious. Steve relaxed his posture, remained in the centre of the corral, and waited to see if he would approach at all.

When nothing happened, he sent the horse around the fence line again with a swish of the rope.

“Won’t the horse get tired?” Munson was asking Robin as Steve watched the horse closely.

“Eventually, yeah,” Robin answered, “But Steve will give him plenty of chances to stop. What we’re aiming for is the horse to approach him, even just a little. The horse’ll learn that if he stops and looks at or approaches Steve, then he gets a break. If he doesn’t, it’s back to work again.”

“I don’t think that horse wants to go anywhere near him,” someone else commented.

Robin smiled thinly. “Just wait and see.”

Steve stopped several times and gave the horse an opportunity to approach him each time, but to no avail. He rolled his shoulders, hoping it wouldn’t take much fucking longer because it was hot and his head was pounding, but he also knew there was no putting a time limit on this. The horse would approach him when ready and not a damn second before.

Finally, just as Steve was starting to lose the interest of the inmates, the horse turned his nose towards Steve when he stopped them again.

Steve exhaled slowly, dropped his shoulders, leant back a little.

Come on, buddy.

The horse took a few cautious steps in his direction. Stopped again, head high in the air.

Steve waited. Thought for a moment he’d lost his touch, thought the horse might be able to sense the emotions simmering under his air of ease. Fuck, he needed to do better, needed to get himself under control again, he had a job to do…

The horse started forward again, paused a few feet away from him.

Steve knew that was about as close as he was going to get today, and didn’t want to push his luck. He backed up a step. The horse followed, stepping forward when he stepped back, stopping when he stopped.

“That’s a join up, everyone,” Robin told the group that had fallen silent.

“But he didn’t even do anything,” one of the inmates complained, “Aren’t you gonna halter it, or…do something?”

Steve shook his head, turning away from the horse to return to the fence. He heard the quiet thud of hooves in sand as the horse slowly followed him, still keeping a couple of feet back from him.

“That’s enough for the first time. We can’t move too fast, or we’ll scare the horse, and it’ll be much harder the next time around.” Steve swung easily back over the fence, gestured for his helpers to open the gate and let the horse back in with the others.

He dusted his hands off on his jeans and looked up at the inmates. “Who wants to try?”

Several men tried their hand at a join up, each with a fresh horse. There were varying levels of success – sometimes due to a horse being particularly nervous, and sometimes due to a lack of patience on the inmate’s part, but Steve insisted they continue. This was one of the most important parts, he knew – he needed the men to finish their first day feeling some level of achievement, even if it was merely getting the horse to stop and look in their direction.

Munson was leaning on the corral fence, his chin on his hands. Steve stepped up next to him.

“Wanna give it a go?” Steve questioned, gesturing towards the horses.

Munson snorted softly. “Nah, man.”

Steve nodded, keeping his gaze on the action in the corral. The man in there was pressing too much, flapping the rope too hard, getting too damn close to the horse. Steve urged to correct him, to tell him to just back off and settle down, but he knew it was useless at this stage. The man would wear himself out, and the horse would teach him better than Steve ever could.

“What’re you doin’ here, Munson?” Steve asked easily.

Munson blinked several times, several expressions crossing his face all at once. “I don’t think you’re meant to ask what I’m in for,” he snapped eventually.

“No, I mean what're ya doin’ here,” Steve stressed, “I mean, you signed up for the program. Everyone’s had a go at somethin’ today, even Hargrove over there.” Steve tipped his head towards the blonde man in question, who was watching the horses with a bored expression on his face.

Munson scowled a little. “That’s my cellmate.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, remembering the way Hargrove had stormed out of the corral earlier, fed up with the time it was taking to settle his horse. “Lucky you,” Steve said under his breath.

Munson turned towards him a little, corners of his lips turning up slightly at that. “Yeah, lucky me,” he mumbled.

Steve waited. Just like an anxious horse, sometimes people needed a little time to trust him enough to communicate.

Munson cleared his throat. “My counsellor recommended it. Said…said it would help me with…stuff.”

Steve nodded. “Well, usually you gotta actually participate in order for it to help.”

Munson tensed up again, and Steve cursed inwardly. He’d pushed too hard too soon. He was usually better at this, at talking to these guys, but Munson was throwing him off his game a little.

“Just lay off, would you?” Eddie grumbled, “Gimme a fucking chance, I…I’ve never done anything like this.”

“How ‘bout I introduce you to Scoops instead?” Steve suggested, “I didn’t see ya go up to him earlier.”

“He’s big,” Munson said, a slight tinge of colour in his cheeks.

Steve hid a soft smile. “Yeah, he’s pretty quiet though. Come on Munson, I’ll show ya.”

“It’s Eddie,” Munson said quietly, grabbing Steve’s sleeve as he turned away.

Steve paused, eyes drifting down to where the man’s pale fingers were grasping his checked shirt.

“Fuck, sorry,” Munson said, snatching his hand back like he’d been burned.

“It’s ok,” Steve assured him quickly, “But…we aren’t meant to use your first names, sorry.”

Munson’s – Eddie’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. That’s fine then, man.”

It wasn’t, not really, because Steve would like nothing more than to address these guys by their first names if that was what they preferred. He knew the prison system was flawed, knew these men had had a rough time despite whatever they’d done to wind up here. And sure, some of them were unpleasant as hell – but by the end of this program, almost all of them would be changed men. Steve had seen it countless times before – seen men who’d arrive broiling away with anger and aggression finish the course with a new sense of calm, of achievement, of purpose to make something of themselves when they finished serving their time.

And Steve wanted to help Eddie, too.

Munson. Not Eddie.

“What’d you do to your hand?” Munson was frowning down at Steve’s bruised and split knuckles.

Steve flexed his fingers, tucked his hand away. “What’d you do your face?” he asked pointedly, glancing at Eddie’s – fuck, Munson’s – slightly-black eye.

Munson remained tight-lipped, and Steve called it a draw.

“So, this here’s Scoops,” he said brightly, patting the neck of the horse tied up nearby. He’d left Robin supervising the corral, but they weren’t far away if something went sideways. “He’s one of mine, been my buddy for over ten years now.”

“You’ve got, like…paddocks and stuff, where he lives?” Munson asked, focusing on Steve’s hand where he was stroking the horse.

“Sure do. Got a ranch a couple miles from here, I trailer him in, or sometimes I just ride here if it’s not too hot.”

Or when I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin, when I need to get out of my own head, when I need to feel something other than…yeah.

He flexed his hand again. It ached. Good.

Munson nodded. “Why don’t we do this stuff with horses like him? Why the wild horses?”

“Well, couple reasons. First, it teaches patience to people that don’t always have it.”

Munson opened his mouth to argue, but Steve quirked an eyebrow in response, shutting the man up.

“Second, it’s harder. Gives ya’ll something to work towards. If I put you in the corral with a horse like Scoops, he’d just wander straight over to ya. Not a lotta point to that, is there?”

Munson smiled. Tiny, but there. Steve’s heart fluttered.

What the fuck? Stay on task, dammit.

He shifted, one hand resting on his belt buckle. “And lastly, it gives the mustangs a chance at a home at the end of all this. We auction them off after you’ve worked with them, and they usually get a good home, on account of a lot of the work already bein’ done with them. There’s a lot of mustangs needin’ homes, so the more we can work with them the better.”

Munson sniffed. Dragged the toe of his boot through the dirt. He looked up, gestured towards Scoops. “Better tell me about this guy, then.”

Steve smiled, dipped his head so the brim hid his face a little, and began to explain the basics to Munson again.

*****

By mid-afternoon, Steve called a halt. It was too damn hot, his arms were caked in dust where he’d rolled back the sleeves, and the horses’ sides were heaving as they ran loops of the corral. Hopper and Dmitri rounded the inmates up, returning them to the bus.

Munson lingered, patting Scoops a little awkwardly on his forehead.

“Ya gotta get goin’, sorry,” Steve told him.

Munson looked down. “Yeah.”

“You can come back next week, though,” Steve encouraged, hating the sad look that had returned to the man’s face.

Munson nodded. “Yeah, guess I’ll be there.”

Steve hoped he would be, he really did.

Slowly, Munson turned away and dragged his feet all the way back to the bus.

Steve watched him go. Watched as Hopper leaned in and said something to him at the door of the bus, watched Munson nod dejectedly and clamber up to his seat.

Dust kicked up as the bus rolled out down the drive, Dmitri waving to Steve as they left.

Robin appeared at Steve’s side, pressing a bottle of water into his hand, no doubt having seen the pinched expression on his face. “What was that guy’s deal?”

Steve turned to her absently, frowning. “Who?” The bus was still just in sight, and Steve thought he caught a glimpse of Munson sitting by himself at the back…

Robin scoffed. “The guy you were making moon eyes at all damn day. Munson?”

Steve screwed up his nose, taken aback. “I wasn’t -”

“You absolutely were, dingus.”

“He’s an inmate, I wouldn’t -”

“But you were,” Robin interrupted again. “I could see it even from the corral.”

Oh.

“I…shit,” Steve finished with a sigh.

Robin snorted. “Yeah, shit,” she agreed, “Careful, Steve. You know the rules. No forming -”

“…inappropriate personal relationships with the inmates, I know,” Steve rolled his eyes, “He just needed some extra help, he’s kinda scared of the horses.”

“Awww,” Robin nudged his shoulder teasingly, “Just, watch yourself, ok? You always fall for the ones with the big sad eyes.”

“I’m not falling for him, rein it in, Robs. I’ve known the guy for a few damn hours.”

“I’ve seen you fall faster than that,” Robin commented, starting to untie Scoops. “Remember when you first met Nancy? All she did was get a needle in Scoops’ neck on the first try, and you were near tripping over your boots.”

Steve winced, because dredging up memories of Nancy was a low blow. It was bad enough that she was the local vet and so Steve had to see her often, had to feel that hollow place in his gut whenever she pulled into his driveway and acted like they hadn’t been together for nearly two years.

Robin noticed the look on his face. Patted his arm gently, apologetically. “Sorry, Steve. I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean -”

“It’s fine,” Steve said quickly, “Let’s just get everything squared away here and get Scoops in the trailer. Can you check the mustangs have plenty of water?”

As Robin walked away to see to his instructions, Steve gave one final look to the dirt road the bus had trundled down a few minutes ago. The dust stirred up from the tyres still lingered on the breeze, just as the thought of a pair of dark eyes lingered in Steve’s mind.

Chapter Text

Steve pulled into the pot-holed driveway to Hawkins Ranch, easing the pick-up to a halt carefully so as not to rattle Scoops around in the trailer too much.

He’d waved goodbye to Robin a few minutes earlier, watching as her car pulled off at the last intersection, fading into a cloud of dust.

Now, he was alone again.

Quietly, he backed Scoops out, led him to his paddock and watched as the horse called to his buddies and trotted over to greet them. For a few minutes, he watched the horses run, smiling softly as they kicked up their heels and played. The herd was carefree and relaxed, happy in each other’s company.

Steve’s fingers twitched, the injured skin tugging sharply.

Slowly, he returned to the house, kicking his well-worn boots off at the door and closing the door behind him, shutting out the heat of the afternoon.

As usual, the house was silent. Steve clenched his jaw. Started towards the kitchen, a floorboard creaking under his foot almost deafening in the quiet. The water hissed from the tap, gurgling as he filled a cup and downed it, followed by another.

He looked at the clock.

It was only fucking four p.m.

What the hell was he going to do until dark, until it was an acceptable time to crack open the bottle of Jack waiting for him in the cabinet?

Was there even an acceptable time anymore?

Steve wasn’t so sure, thought maybe he’d left that unspoken rule behind a long time ago.

He watched the clock for a few minutes, leaning over the bench. The ticking seemed to grow louder by the second, until he swore he could almost feel the sound.

He needed a shower.

But did it really matter? There was no one else here to be offended if he was covered in dust, if he stank of horse and sweat.

Nancy would’ve taken one look at him and shooed him to the bathroom, and he would’ve chased her teasingly, tried to lean in for a kiss while she laughed and shoved him away, told him she wasn’t touching him till he’d showered.

But Nancy wasn’t here.

The house was empty, her belongings gone, the empty spaces where her pictures had hung on the walls staring blankly back at him.

No one would care if he opened that bottle and got black-out drunk right now.

Steve skipped the shower. Headed to the couch, reaching for the bottle as he went, taking the top off with his teeth and taking a long drag before he even sat down.

He flicked the TV on. Scanned through channels for a moment, found nothing of interest. Turned it off again.

The silence was oppressive, settling over him like a too-warm blanket on a too-fucking hot day, stifling him.

He turned the TV back on, just to have some noise other than his own pulse drumming in his ears.

None of this was going to help the headache building behind his eyes, he knew.

Didn’t particularly care.

He took another slug from the bottle. Thought about calling Robin – she’d be home by now. But she’d spent all day with him already, she’d wonder why he was calling, she’d get worried and ask if he was drinking again, and then be disappointed and Steve couldn’t deal with that right now.

Tomorrow was Saturday. He had nothing on, no commitments.

He took a longer drink.

Unbidden, his thoughts drifted back to Eddie. While he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help but wonder what had landed the young guy in prison. He hoped it wasn’t anything violent, thought Eddie didn’t really seem the type, but how the hell would he know after a few hours of meeting him?

Munson, dammit. Not Eddie.

He could Google it, see if there were any news articles about him and how he wound up in prison. It was frowned upon, he wasn’t really meant to question what the inmates were in for, usually didn’t want to know anyway – it didn’t change anything, after all.

He glanced at his phone sitting on the coffee table, fought the temptation. Instead, he ran through a short mental checklist of people he could call, voices he could focus on instead of his own dreary thoughts – Robin was at the top, but he’d already decided against that. Jonathan, once upon a time, but there was no way in hell Steve could bring himself to talk to that guy right now, or anytime soon. Argyle, maybe, but he was best buddies with Jonathan, and the conversation would be nothing but awkward. Sorry my best friend stole your girlfriend, man. It was kinda rough of him.

Dustin? No, he wouldn’t stoop low enough to call a damn teenager. He’d see him on Sunday anyway, when he came to help out at the ranch with the others. Steve was already looking forward to being surrounded by noise again, even if it was only for a few hours, and even if the source of that noise was a bunch of chaotic teens.

His thoughts drifted to Nancy, as they often did when he was alone and half-way drunk.

He could call her. Nancy would talk to him, she’d be worried, she’d ask if he was ok, tell him she still cared about him, and then she’d call Robin and ask her to come check on him.

No. Steve wouldn’t call her, he wasn’t that fucking desperate.

In the end, he didn’t call anyone.

His phone vibrated a few times with incoming messages, Robin’s name flashing across the screen, but Steve ignored it.

Dart padded into the room eventually, the little tabby cat hopping up beside Steve and curling up into a ball. Steve reached down, stroked his head, took another long slurp from the bottle.

His head throbbed, so he drank more.

At some point in the early evening he must have passed out, because he came-to blearily to his phone vibrating again. The bottle of Jack was lying on its side beside the couch, some of it leaked out and seeping into the floorboards. Steve grunted, slapped his hand half-heartedly across the coffee table until he felt his phone, then checked his notifications.

Robs

1628 - Alfonso says hi

Attached was a picture of Robin’s fat ginger cat with his signature grumpy expression, his eyes narrowed at the camera.

1629 - He looks kinda grumpy but I promise he’s not

1645 – There’s that doco on the BLM mustang round up on tonight remember, at 7. You gonna watch?

1734 – Steeeeeeeeve

1743 – You better be ignoring me for a good reason, like you’ve got a date or something. But also, if you do, how dare you not tell me

1812 – Do you use diced tomato or crushed tomato for your spag bol? What’s even the difference? I’m having a debate with Vickie

1814 – Scratch that, you probably wouldn’t use tinned tomato would you, you snob

1901 – Spag bol turned out well, turns out tomato is tomato and it doesn’t really matter

There was another picture attached, this one of two plates side by side piled high with pasta and sauce, Vickie in the background with a grin on her face and giving a thumbs up to the camera.

Steve read the messages and his heart clenched.

He was happy for Robin, he really was. Her and Vickie got along so well, complimented each other in the best ways, it was just…

He was jealous, he couldn’t help it. Not of either of them personally, just that they had someone to share their life with, to argue about tomatoes with, to sit down and eat dinner with.

He used to have that, too.

Head spinning a little, he typed out a message back.

1905 – Looks good, Robs

His phone pinged immediately with a reply.

1905 – He lives!

Steve huffed out a small breath.

1906 – Yeah sorry was a little busy

1907 - …sounds cryptic, anything I should know about?

1908 – If you want to hear all bout me mucking out and sweping the barn, sure

The lie came easily to Steve now. He’d had some practice over the last few weeks.

1910 – Wow, thrilling. What’s for dinner?

There it was, Robin checking in, casually making sure he was putting food in his stomach.

1912 – Leftovers

Nothing. There was nothing in, anyway, even if he’d felt like eating. He used to like cooking, loved making something for him and Nancy.

Cooking for one wasn’t the same, wasn’t even worth the dishes in his mind.

He tossed his cell back down. Swirled what was left of the whiskey around in the bottle, swallowed it down, ignored the ache in his temples. With any luck, he’d pass out again soon, and sleep right through the headache.

Dart was still pressed up against his side, purring softly. Steve glanced over to the cat's food bowl in the corner, idly checking he still had kibble there before allowing his eyes to close again.

*****

“Steve, wake up dingus. Come on.”

Steve groaned, batting at the hand tapping his cheek incessantly.

“Robs?” he croaked.

Robin let out a relieved sound, and Steve cracked open his eyes to see his best friend crouched next to the couch, her face crumpled in disappointment.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Steve slurred, trying to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“You didn’t answer your phone, or the door when I knocked, so I let myself in,” Robin said quietly, “I thought maybe you had a migraine, or maybe something had happened out in the paddock, but no. You were drinking, again.”

“…time s’it?” Steve blinked, reaching out for his phone. The display turned on, showing four missed calls from Robin.

It was 1204pm.

“Steve.”

“Mmm?”

“I thought you’d got through this.”

“What?”

“Drinking yourself into a stupor every damn night. You told me…you told me you were better. You promised.”

“I am,” Steve insisted, but it sounded weak, even to him. “I don’t do this every night, Robs, just…”

“Just what?”

“…sometimes,” he finished lamely.

Robin didn’t look angry. Steve could have handled that, if she was. Could have dealt with her yelling, with her blowing up at him. But she didn’t.

She just looked sad.

“You could’ve called me,” she said quietly, “I would’ve come over.”

“You were with Vickie,” Steve said, matter-of-fact. “Would you have dragged her over here too, to babysit your loser of a friend?”

Robin flinched. “You’re not a loser, Steve.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right.”

Robin stared him down for a moment before she spoke again. “We’re going for a ride.”

Steve snorted. “Fuck no, look at me.”

“Don’t care. Come on, get up. And get changed, you stink.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Steve studied her for a moment, realized Robin wasn’t going to budge on this. Sighing, he dragged himself to his feet, letting Robin steady him for a moment when everything spun.

“I’m making you breakfast while you get changed,” Robin informed him, shooing him down the hallway towards his room.

“Don’t want any,” Steve mumbled.

“Tough.”

Steve reluctantly went through the motions of getting changed. Tossed his dirty clothes in the corner, into the ever-growing pile of laundry. Nancy would’ve kicked his ass if she saw the state their bedroom was in.

His bedroom, he quickly corrected. Not theirs anymore.

He splashed water over his face in the bathroom, avoided looking at his reflection. He didn’t recognize it these days anyway.

Robin shoved a piece of toast into his hand, smeared generously with strawberry jam. Steve looked down at it, screwing his nose up a little because it was the crust slice, and it was half stale –

“Your pantry is like…bare,” Robin said by way of explanation, “And that was your last bit of bread. After our ride, we’re going to the store.”

“Robs -”

“No. We’re going. Now eat that, maybe it’ll soak up some of the alcohol your organs are basically drowning in.”

Steve rolled his eyes, regretted it when the action made him a little dizzy. He took small bites of his toast as he followed Robin outside, pulling on his boots and making for the barn.

It was another boiling day, the hot sun not helping his mood, but he did as he was told and caught two of the horses, bringing them in and tying them to the hitching post outside the barn. Robin went about tacking up Cherry, her favourite little bay mare, while Steve saddled his sorrel gelding Butterscotch. They worked in grim silence, tension simmering away, but neither wanting to acknowledge it quite yet.

Steve swung up into the saddle, his back stiff from his night spent on the couch, spine crunching and popping with the movement.

“Where do ya wanna go?” he asked, void of any real enthusiasm.

“You lead, I’ll follow,” Robin said easily.

Steve shrugged, turning his mustang towards the driveway.

Butterscotch had been his for several years now, adopted from the prison program before Steve had been involved in it. The horse had piqued his interest in mustangs in the first place, and led him to researching the invaluable role the horses were playing in inmate rehabilitation. Barely a year later, Steve had landed himself a job there, and hadn’t looked back. He enjoyed his work, he really did – it was fulfilling, gave him purpose, allowed him to work with his hands and make a difference in the lives of both people and animals.

It was the stark opposite of the career his father had tried to force him into, and that had driven a wedge the size of Texas between Steve and his parents. To hell with them, he’d decided several years ago – had packed his bags and left his miserable office job, moved out of his cupboard-sized beige-walled apartment in the city and driven towards the sun. He’d wound up doing ranch work in exchange for food and board in various places, eventually earning more as he gained experience. Combining that with the money he’d saved from working in the city and the inheritance he’d stashed away from his grandparents, he’d finally had enough to put down a deposit on Hawkins Ranch – a run-down collection of dry paddocks in the middle of the armpit of Arizona.

But it was home. Was supposed to have been home for more than just him, but such was life.

Unconsciously, Steve found himself turning onto the quiet dirt road and heading in the direction of his workplace, Robin and Cherry plodding along behind him.

They rode in silence for some time. It was clearing his head, Steve had to admit, even if his stomach was flipping uncomfortably with the movement.

Finally, Robin spoke.

“So…you wanna tell me why you’re still drinking like that? And if it’s got anything to do with why your knuckles are all cut up, because I saw that, even if you try keep your hand jammed in your damn pocket all the time.”

Steve’s jaw twitched. “You know, Robs.”

“Ok, look, I know the Nancy thing was really rough, Steve, I get it -”

“Do you?” Steve couldn’t help himself. Robin meant well, of course she did, but she didn’t get it. Vickie was her first long-term girlfriend, she’d never been cheated on, never come home from work to catch her girlfriend in bed with someone she thought was a friend, never had to return a damn engagement ring before she’d even had a chance to utter the fucking question.

Robin tipped her head, acknowledged Steve’s point. “Well, maybe I don’t,” she admitted, “But I’d like to help, I’ve told you before you can always call me whenever, or you can just show up at my place, Vickie won’t mind either. I know you’re lonely in that big old house, even if you say you aren’t.”

“I’m not,” Steve grumbled.

“Sure,” Robin raised an eyebrow.

Steve stayed quiet for a moment. Robin waited him out.

“When I bought that place, I wanted the extra space,” Steve said quietly, fiddling with the reins in one hand, “I wanted the extra bedrooms, figured me and Nance would have a few kids, ya know? I wanted space for them to run and play, I wanted room for Nancy to have an office if she needed it one day, I wanted enough room in the paddocks for the kids to have ponies. I thought…I thought that was my future, Robs. It’s what I wanted.”

His voice cracked a little as he spoke. Butterscotch’s hooves thudded against the dirt road, stones crunching below.

“And now it’s…it’s just me, ya know? And I know maybe there’s someone else out there, more fish in the sea an’ all that shit, but…” Steve broke off, swallowed a wave of nausea. “…but I wanted to do all that with her.”

Robin urged Cherry forward, rode up alongside Steve and reached out to rub a hand over his back.

“Steve…” she murmured softly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not always this bad, I wasn’t lyin’,” Steve said, swiping his hand over his eyes, “When I’m workin’, it’s better, I can…forget, for a little while that I’m gonna be goin’ home to an empty house. But on weekends, I just…I can’t think about anything except how fucking quiet it is.”

“Well, if you need some noise, all you gotta do is ask,” Robin said, small smile spreading across her face.

Steve chuckled lightly. “I’ll get plenty of it tomorrow, I guess. The kids’ll be here. It’s just…it’s the nights too, ya know?”

Robin nodded in understanding. “I can stay for dinner tonight? We can cook after we’ve been to the store, Vickie can come over, or it can be just the two of us if you’d rather, Vickie’ll understand.”

“You’re both welcome, I just…I dunno that I’ll be the best company.”

“Not a problem, dingus,” Robin smiled at him, flicked him on the arm, “For once, I’ll be the charming one, huh?”

Steve laughed and curled his fingers in Butterscotch’s mane. As he rode with Robin chatting beside him, he felt a little of his loneliness slink away. It would be back later, he had no doubt, creeping in with the dark of night, but for now he let himself enjoy its absence.

Chapter Text

“Can we ride now?” Dustin asked again, marching up to Steve.

Steve sighed, leant on his shovel for a moment. “Barn’s not clean yet, Dusty,” he waved a hand around the straw-strewn aisle, “Once that’s done, you can.”

Dustin grumbled something and returned to his friends, shovelling away half-heartedly at the mess in the stalls.

The kids had been coming to Steve’s place on weekends for months now. Hopper’s daughter El was amongst them, and his partner’s son Will. Hopper had approached Steve at work last year asking if he needed any help around the ranch. El, in particular, was obsessed with horses, but there was no way they could afford lessons, and not really anywhere to learn around here anyway. Steve had agreed, and El and Will’s lessons had soon expanded to include their friends – Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Max. In exchange for doing basic work around the place, Steve taught them how to ride.

Sundays had quickly become his favourite day of the week, although he’d never admit it to the kids – he’d never hear the end of it if he did. Ever since Nancy had packed her bags and walked out of his life, he’d found himself looking forward more and more to the one day of the week where the ranch came alive with any voices other than his own miserable one.

“Hey, you piece of shit, you did that on purpose!”

“You were in the way!”

“I wasn’t, asshole!”

“You’re standing in front of the wheelbarrow, what’d you expect?”

Steve rolled his eyes at the sound of Mike and Dustin arguing again.

“Alright!” he interrupted sharply, “Mike, get outta the way of the wheelbarrow. Dustin, if I catch you throwin’ shit around again, you’re not riding today.”

Dustin sighed and brought his shovel up to the wheelbarrow, exaggeratingly slowly this time, and emptied the muck carefully into it.

“Better,” Steve said, pointedly ignoring Mike flipping the bird at Dustin when he thought Steve’s back was turned.

He picked his battles.

He’d cranked up the old speaker in the barn office when the kids had arrived, the sounds of Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi and Queen filling the space from the 80’s playlist he’d chosen on Spotify. The kids had complained about his prehistoric taste in music, but Steve didn’t care. His barn, his music - and if they didn’t like it, well that was tough.

Nancy hadn’t liked his music much either, a fact that helped him now – there weren’t many memories of her attached to these songs.

An hour later, and the barn was as clean as the kids were going to get it.

He let them into the paddock to catch a few horses, supervised as they tied them up and started to brush them and haul tack outside to get ready.

“There’s new horses at the prison program now, right?” Dustin was asking as he brushed Cherry’s neck.

“Yeah.” Steve had mentioned last week that they were due to start with a fresh wave of horses and inmates.

“See any good ones?”

Steve paused where he was busy untangling a bridle. “Ah…I didn’t really notice,” he said finally, frowning down at the reins in his hands. Dammit, Mike. The kid never hung the tack up properly.

Dustin frowned, his hand stilling on Cherry’s belly as he turned to look at Steve. “You always notice.”

And that…was true.

Steve always enjoyed seeing the fresh lot of mustangs that came in every few months. He loved the excitement of not knowing what they were going to get, always wondered if there’d be a special one in the mix, something like Butterscotch.

But this time, he’d been a little distracted.

By dark eyes, by a quiet young man who’d seemed nervous but curious at the same time, by hands that had looked too fucking soft to be spending time behind bars.

Steve sniffed. Shrugged, going for nonchalance. “I was busy. I’ll look more closely tomorrow.”

“You gotta tell me about them,” Dustin pressed, “If there’s any cool ones. Like, colours, markings and stuff.”

Steve smiled fondly. “I will, buddy. But you know, I always tell you -”

Dustin let out an exasperated sound. “It’s not the colour of the horse that matters, I know.”

“Look at Cherry,” Steve pointed out, “She’s as plain as anythin’, right?” He stroked the gentle mare’s nose, looking her over. The little horse was plain brown all over, not a single white hair on her. “But everyone loves her, because she’s a damn good horse.”

“I know,” Dustin said, patting the mare, “Just…you’ll tell me about them, yeah? Send me some photos.”

“I will.”

Dustin had been interested in Steve’s work ever since the two of them had met. He’d even asked if Steve could take him along some time to watch, promised he’d stay quiet and do as he was told. Steve had been hesitant, telling him it wasn’t really the environment for a kid, but maybe one day. He still needed to talk to Hopper about it, find out if it would even be allowed.

Cherry, Scoops, and El’s favourite paint, Blue, were eventually saddled and ready to go. Steve helped half the kids up, watching closely as they did laps of the round pen, letting them ride the short distance to the road and back (walking only, he’d reminded Max sternly) before swapping them out with the next three kids.

As he was tightening a girth for Will, the sound of a vehicle arriving made Steve glance up. It was Robin’s car, his best friend waving out the window as she rolled down the driveway and parked up in front of the barn.

“Hey, dingus,” she greeted him, throwing an arm across Steve’s shoulders as he watched the kids file into the round pen.

“Robs,” he said with a smile, “What’cha doin’ here?”

She shrugged, fingers tapping out an invisible beat on his shoulder. “What, I can’t just come visit?”

“’Course you can,” Steve said knowingly, “But you usually avoid it on Sundays, on account a’ these little pests.” He waved a hand towards the kids, laughed when Max pulled the finger at him and poked her tongue out in response.

Robin leaned in closer, lowered her voice. “I just…wanted to check you were ok.”

Steve stiffened, looked away from her. “M’fine.”

Familiar eyes scanned him. “Ok,” she gave in eventually, knowing they couldn’t exactly have an open discussion around the kids anyway. “Well, need any help?”

Steve shook his head. “Nah, they’re goin’ pretty good.”

Robin tilted her head, screwed her nose up at the way Mike was trotting Cherry around in a circle. “Poor Cherry,” she commented, “He’s sat there like a sack of potatoes, bouncing around on her poor back like that.”

Steve chuckled. “He’s gettin’ better. Give him a chance.”

Robin kicked her boot gently against his. “You’re too soft on this lot.”

Steve waved a hand, brushed the comment aside. Most of the kids had come from…not-so-ideal home lives, El bouncing around foster homes until Hopper had adopted her, Max with a stepfather Steve had only heard a little about but it was enough, Will with his own father who had been an abusive prick until Joyce had finally kicked him to the curb and later met Hopper.

And Mike…

Well, Steve had a complicated relationship with the kid, him being Nancy’s younger brother.

Still, he did his best to give them all a safe and fun environment, even if only for one day a week. There’d be no yelling here, no expectations other than they did what work they could and were gentle with the horses.

Steve had been fortunate enough to spend a lot of time in his own early years on the ranch owned by his grandparents. Any chance he could, he’d go and stay with them, learning to ride and look after their horses. When they’d died, the ranch had been left to Steve’s parents, and to his complete dismay they’d sold it the first chance they’d gotten. Steve had loved that place, the rolling paddocks and the little creek that meandered through the property, the swinging sign with the metal horse over the driveway, the bright red barn and the house with the wraparound porch.

But it was long gone now.

“Tomorrow, we gotta try match Munson up with a horse,” Robin was saying, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Munson,” Robin repeated, “He’s the only one that didn’t get matched up with a mustang on Friday.”

“Oh,” Steve said, “Well, he was kinda nervous, might have’ta take it a bit slower with him.”

Robin gave him a look. “You know he’s gonna have to make some progress, or they’ll boot him from the program.”

“He’s only had one day,” Steve pointed out, doing his best to not sound too defensive. “He just needs a chance to settle into it, that’s all.”

“Well, there’s not a lot of horses left to match him up with now, and the easier ones are taken,” Robin said, drumming her fingers on the round pen rail.

Steve watched closely as Lucas steered Scoops around in a circle, half his mind drifting back to the pen of mustangs. Robin was right; most of the naturally quieter horses had already been paired up with the inmates – the ones left were the more difficult, the flightier ones, the ones with the most attitude.

He sighed. They’d make it work.

He wanted to, for Eddie.

Munson.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” he concluded, and Robin nodded.

Another hour passed, and Steve called a halt to the riding as the heat of the day continued to climb towards unbearable.

One by one, the kids were uplifted by their parents. Both Will and Dustin’s moms pressed containers of home-made food into Steve’s arms despite his protests that he was fine, that they didn’t have to keep going to all this trouble for him.

Joyce and Claudia both gave him knowing looks, and Robin took the food quickly from Steve, walked it back towards the house to put it away.

Finally, it was only Max left, Steve standing awkwardly next to her in the shade of the barn while they waited for her mom to arrive.

“Sorry,” Max mumbled.

“S’fine,” Steve assured her.

“She’s always late.”

“It’s ok, I don’t mind. The shade’s nice.”

Max dragged the toe of her boot through the dust, glancing up at Steve several times as though she wanted to say something else, but dropping her gaze to the dirt each time again.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat. “Y’ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“S’just…you looked like ya wanted to say somethin’?”

“No.”

“Oh, ok.”

Steve waited.

Max sniffed. Looked up at the empty driveway again.

“Have you…seen my brother yet?” she mumbled.

Steve frowned. He’d heard some…things about Billy, but he’d never actually met the guy.

At his confused look, Max carried on. “He’s in this round of your horse program thing.”

Oh.

“What’s his last name?” Steve knew Billy wasn’t Max’s brother by blood, but she didn’t speak about him much, was often sullen and closed off whenever Steve asked her about her family.

“Hargrove. Billy Hargrove.”

Recognition sparked in Steve.

Munson’s cellmate.

The young man that had been pushy and uncooperative in the round pen, that had stormed off in a huff when his horse had run from him instead of joining up.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him,” Steve said carefully.

Max’s eyes lit up briefly, before she looked down again. “And was he…was he ok?”

“He looked fine.”

Max nodded. “That’s good.”

A run-down sedan pulled into the driveway, ending the conversation. Max shouldered her bag, gave Steve a flicker of a smile, and strode towards her mom.

Steve watched her go, made a mental note to keep an eye on Billy tomorrow so he could report back to the girl with any news. He wasn’t sure what had happened with Billy, hadn’t even known the man was in prison; but now, thinking about it, Max had been quieter than usual lately.

Slowly, he wandered back to the house, where Robin was busy sorting something to eat for the two of them. At least he’d have her for a few hours yet, wouldn’t have the stark transition of going from the noise and life the kids brought to his silent, empty house.

*****

“Ok, so…are there any that catch your eye?”

Steve was leaning on the fence of the mustang pen the following morning, Munson standing beside him.

The man shrugged. Steve glanced up at him, saw the way his dark eyes were following a black mare, interest sparking there and betraying the uncaring attitude he was trying to put on.

“Her?” Steve prompted, pointing at the mare.

Munson looked at Steve, quickly turning his eyes downcast and waving a hand. “I dunno. What do you think? I don’t know anything about this shit.”

Steve thought carefully about to word his opinion, because the black mare was probably the worst choice Eddie could have made. She was the only horse that hadn’t settled at least somewhat since arriving – she still paced the fence line, ignored her hay, spooked at any sudden movements they made…in short, she was probably going to be the most difficult one to work with.

But Munson kept sneaking glances at her, his eyes tracking her route down the fence where she’d worn a small trail into the dirt. And if this horse was the only thing that had piqued his interest here, then Steve was willing to try.

“Well,” he started, “She’s a nice-looking mare.” And she was, all ink-black and shiny coat, not a hint of white on her. There were a few scuff marks here and there; bites from the other horses, Steve presumed. “She’s, um…well, looks like she’s got a lot a’ spirit, which might make workin’ with her a little difficult, but if you’re willin’ to put the time and effort in, then I’m happy to help you.”

Munson’s face fell even further. “If it’s gonna be too fucking hard, then -”

“No,” Steve interrupted quickly, “No, we can do it. Just, you understand it’s gonna be a lot of work? And you’re gonna need to be patient?”

Munson nodded briefly.

A creak came from the round pen gate. The mare snorted and bolted to the other end of the pen, head thrown up in the air, tail held high.

Steve winced.

He looked at Munson, scanning his face for any sign of doubt. “You sure about this?”

Munson nodded again.

“Ok. Gonna take us a little while to get her outta there, so go wait by the round pen.”

Munson did as he was told, slowly making his way back to the fence. Steve’s gaze followed him, unbidden, and he couldn’t help taking several steps forward when another inmate shoved him away as Munson passed by him.

Steve clenched his jaw, remembering himself. He uncurled his fist. A small bead of blood had gathered there, one of the many tiny cuts on his knuckles reopening at the tension.

Wiping it on his jeans, Steve turned away.

He’s just another inmate, this sorta shit happens all the time, he told himself firmly.

Thankfully, he was quickly distracted by the task of getting the mare away from the herd and into the round pen.

It was…difficult, to say the least. Several helpers joined him, doing their best to flush the mare through the gate, but she wasn’t having it. She’d dart around them every time, finding her way back to the others, thwarting every attempt to separate her. Finally, with sweat pouring down his back, Steve signalled for Robin to lead Scoops over.

“Right, don’t let me down, old man,” Steve murmured to the horse as he swung up into the saddle, steering him into the holding pen, the mustangs skittering around him.

As he gently started to cut the mare away from the herd, he felt eyes on his back.

Munson’s eyes, he confirmed with a quick look up.

The man looked curious, his gaze almost…heated.

Something sparked inside Steve.

But then he was too busy to pay much attention to the way Munson was staring at him, the mare forcing all of his focus onto her.

Finally, after too damn long, Scoops managed to outsmart the mare. Steve gave the horse his head, kept him on a lose rein and used his thighs to keep his seat as the old ranch horse moved expertly below him. With the freedom Steve offered him, Scoops managed to dart sideways when he needed to and block off the escape route when the mare tried to run around them.

With a frustrated snort, the mare charged through the gate into the round pen, Robin quickly closing the gate behind her.

Steve hopped down from Scoops and made his way to the fence, standing next to Munson. He didn’t miss the way the man swallowed thickly at Steve’s approach, the way he turned aside a little, feigning disinterest.

It might’ve worked, had he not kept stealing glances at Steve, at his rumpled hair and rolled-up sleeves and calloused hands.

Steve cleared his throat, pointed to where the mare was cantering nervous laps. “So, we’ll give her a little time, see if she’ll settle at all.”

Munson nodded, watching the horse closely.

“She scared?” he asked eventually.

“Yeah,” Steve said honestly, “This is all new to her. She’d never seen fences, never been contained before now.”

A small huff of air escaped the other man. “I know the feeling.”

Steve hummed in acknowledgement. He looked across the round pen to where Hargrove was standing, pointedly ignoring everyone around him.

“How’s your cellmate?” Steve asked Munson.

Munson shrugged. “He’s alright. Keeps to himself, mostly.”

Steve nodded. Looked at Munson’s face again, at the shadow of bruising still healing around his eye. “He do that to ya?”

Munson frowned, shifted uncomfortably. “No.”

Steve didn’t press further. Instead, the two of them watched the horse in silence. She was starting to slow a little, to run out of steam, but she was still far from happy in that round pen, trotting back and forth and tossing her head.

“Can I try go in?” Munson asked eventually, surprising Steve.

“You want to?”

“Well, gotta start somewhere, don’t I?”

“True. Let’s give her a few more minutes to calm down, and then I’ll go in with you, make sure it’s safe.”

The ghost of a smile passed over Munson’s lips, his cheeks flushing the tiniest bit as he nodded.

Steve liked that look. Wanted to etch it into his memory, keep it there to revisit whenever he wanted.

What the fuck? He cursed inwardly.

Shaking out stiff arms, Steve forced himself to wait those last few minutes by the gate instead, standing next to Robin.

His best friend nudged his shoulder, glanced back at Munson, shook her head firmly.

Steve wiped a hand over his face, nodded in agreement. Bad idea, he knew that.

But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t help looking back at the young inmate. Because as the mare’s steps started to slow, a small smile spread across Munson’s face, soft and cautious, and Steve’s heart started to thump.

Chapter Text

Steve entered the round pen first, pausing to keep a close eye on the anxious mare opposite him. She watched his every move, nostrils flared, quivering on the spot, braced to run.

“Easy, girl,” Steve murmured softly. He held the gate open behind him, signalling for Munson to follow him slowly in.

Munson did so, looking nearly as nervous as the horse, staying behind Steve.

“What do I do?” he whispered.

“For now, just hang back a little,” Steve instructed. “Watch what I do, ok?”

Munson nodded, wide eyes locked on the mare.

Steve moved carefully. This had the potential to be dangerous should the mare decide to turn to aggression when flight failed her, or throw caution to the wind and bowl right through them. But he knew what he was doing, could predict her moves before she made them, could feel any slight change in her mood through her body language.

Ever so slowly, he approached the horse. Munson followed, keeping a few strides behind him.

The mare jumped, a small bolt of energy, skittering sideways a few steps.

Steve stopped.

Waited.

Sensed their spectators holding their breath outside the round pen, felt the quiet fall over them.

He had all the time in the world.

Well, he didn’t…but he was determined not to let the mare know that.

He heard Munson breathing behind him, resisted the urge to turn and look at him, reassure him that everything was ok.

The mare stilled, and lowered her head the tiniest amount.

Steve took another step forward, and another.

“This is as close as I think I’m gonna get right now,” Steve said quietly to Munson. “So now we’re goin’ to ask her to move in a circle around us.”

“How?”

“Click your tongue, make some noise, flap your arms a little, nothing crazy. Won’t take much with her.”

Munson shifted a little on the spot, gaze drifting from Steve to the mare and back.

“Go on,” Steve encouraged.

“I…I feel stupid,” Munson mumbled, looking down at the ground.

Steve’s tongue darted out across his lips, licked away dust and sweat. Iron and salt.

“Here, I’ll go first, ok? Like this.”

He hissed through his teeth a tiny bit, slapped a hand down against his thigh.

The mare recoiled, bunching up on her hind end to spring off, loping a circle around them, as close to the fence as she could get without touching it.

Steve allowed her to run several laps before jogging slowly backwards, interrupting her circle and causing her to slide to a halt.

“Ok, send her away again,” he told Munson.

The other man nodded, cheeks a little flushed as he flapped both arms, perhaps a little too enthusiastically as the mare snorted and galloped in the other direction.

“Sorry,” Munson muttered.

“S’fine, just let her settle, you know to go more softly next time,” Steve reassured him.

“Not good at this shit,” Munson kicked slightly at the dirt, scuffing his prison-issued boot through it.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Steve promised.

The session stretched on, Steve guiding Munson on how to interrupt the mare, how to slow her, how to have her change direction. But even though the mare was nearly dripping sweat, even though her sides were heaving with effort, she refused to take a step towards them, and they’d have to send her running around the pen again and again.

“Steve, maybe time to call it a day for her,” Robin suggested from her spot perched on the round pen fence.

“Few more minutes,” Steve insisted, lifting the brim of his hat to wipe the back of the hand over his damp forehead.

Because while the mare was certainly stubbornly staying away from them, Steve had noticed the slightest shift, a tiny change from fear to reluctant curiosity. She pricked her ears towards him and Munson now, didn’t spring off quite so quickly when asked to move.

Munson, for his part, had gained a little confidence, figuring out just the right amount of effort to get the mare moving without terrifying her.

Steve knew the inmate was tired, could see the patches of sweat forming on his orange jumpsuit, wondered how the hell he wasn’t cooking alive in that thing. He felt a sudden wave of gratitude towards his own well-worn jeans and loose blue shirt.

But Munson seemed determined now, radiating a quiet stubbornness that almost mirrored the mare’s.

Finally, just as Steve felt a headache starting to threaten, the mare turned towards them.

Not wanting to make a sound, Steve reached out, gently placed a hand on Munson’s upper arm. He didn’t miss the way the man flinched slightly under his touch, but he kept his hand there, nodded his head towards the mare, tried to communicate with his eyes what was happening.

He relaxed his posture. Munson copied him, letting his shoulders slump a little, breathing out slowly.

The horse took a small step towards them.

Letting go of Munson, Steve quietly backed up, holding a hand up to signal the other man to wait there.

As Steve backed up, the mare approached. She would pause after each step, head sky-high, watching for any sign of danger.

Munson stayed where he was in the center of the ring, throwing a nervous look back at Steve who nodded encouragingly.

Steve stopped, not wanting to get too far away in case something went wrong and he needed to intervene. But the mare wasn’t happy with that, and refused to take another step.

She didn’t want Steve there, he realized. She was approaching Munson, not him.

Against his better judgement, he backed up until his shoulders touched the wood of the fence.

The mare walked the final few steps to Munson, breathing hard.

He reached out a slow, shaky hand to her.

She rocked back a little, not appreciating the movement, but quickly settled again and sniffed at his fingers.

Steve watched the interaction closely, every muscle in his body poised to respond if needed. He glanced across the arena, saw the other inmates watching, even Hargrove, even Hopper who’d paused mid-way through lighting a cigarette, eyebrow raised.

The mare spent a moment longer with Munson, neck outstretched, before she wandered back to the safety of the fence line.

Munson turned to Steve, his face lit up in a grin.

Steve went warm all over, and it had nothing to do with the damn temperature.

“Well done, Munson,” Robin piped up, reminding Steve he should probably open his mouth and say something, shake himself out of his daze.

“Yeah, good work,” he managed, adjusting his hat to give his hands something to do. “That’s enough for her today, if you hop out, we’ll get her back in with the others, she needs some water and a rest.”

Munson nodded, smile fading a little as Steve purposely avoided looking at him while he exited the round pen.

This is fucking dangerous, Steve told himself. But still, he couldn’t help it, and once they had the mare safely back in the paddock, he found himself approaching Munson again. The man was standing alone, as usual, watching the horses pick at their hay.

“You got a name idea for her?” Steve asked him, gesturing at the black mare.

Munson mumbled something.

“Huh?”

“Ozzy,” he said, a little louder.

Steve frowned, and Munson’s face screwed up.

“It’s stupid. I’ll think of something else.”

“Nah, I was just thinkin’,” Steve said quickly, not liking the embarrassment etched across Munson’s face. “Like…Ozzy Osbourne? The singer?”

Munson’s face lit up. “You a fan?”

“Well…not really, but I’ve heard of him, sure. Ozzy,” he repeated, watching the mare move between hay piles, none of the other horses letting her close enough to eat. “Suits her.”

“She’s getting bullied,” Munson said. “They’re biting her, look.”

Steve watched as a particularly large bay gelding lunged at Ozzy, nipping at her neck, sending her away from the hay.

“Takes them a while to sort themselves out,” Steve told him. “I’ll put out a few extra piles of hay, she’ll manage to eat, don’t worry.”

Munson didn’t look overly convinced, still watching his mare worriedly.

“Steve! Need a hand, Hargrove’s up,” Robin called, pulling Steve back to professional mode.

He managed a brief smile at Eddie before heading back to the round pen, rolling out his shoulders and praying his damn headache stayed away long enough to deal with Hargrove and his temper.

*****

All in all, Hargrove went…ok. He was still impatient, still a hair-trigger from snapping and storming off again, but he made some effort to listen to Steve and Robin’s advice this time, managed to not frighten his chestnut mare and work with her to the point where they were getting close to a join-up.

Steve wondered what the hell had landed Max’s brother in prison. He hoped it was nothing to do with her, knew the two of them had had a complicated upbringing, knew their relationship was strained at best from the rare occasion Max had spoken about him before.

As the day drew on, Steve’s head started to pound behind his eyes, the unrelenting sun bringing on the start of a full-fledged migraine. Robin knew, because of course she did, and continuously filled his water bottle and brought it to him, retrieved the painkillers she knew he kept in his car, made him sit in the tiny bit of shade whenever they had a spare moment.

While he tried to will the pain away, Steve snapped a couple of photos of the horses for Dustin. He took a few of an interesting chestnut and white gelding, knowing Dustin would think that one was cool, and several shots of all the horses together. He sent several of Ozzy too, her black coat standing out strikingly against the red-brown dirt.

1524 – here you go, buddy

6 images attached

Dustin

1526 – They look pretty cool, I like the paint.

Steve huffed out a small laugh and typed out his response.

1528 – thought you might, hes not the best of them tho, think that’s the black one.

1529 – That one looks cool too, are they matched up with someone?

1532 – Yeah. her names Ozzy.

1533 – Ozzy?

1535 – like the singer

1536 – What singer?

1538 – dude, you make me feel realy old

1539 – You are old.

Steve laughed at that and slid his phone back into his pocket after sending a flipping the bird emoji back at Dustin.

“How’s your head?” Robin inquired, leaning up on the fence next to him.

“S’not too bad,” Steve told her.

Robin turned to him, squinted a little. “So it’s pretty bad, then,” she surmised.

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes; she always saw right through him. He held up a hand, turning it in a so-so gesture.

“Nearly time to pack up, anyway. You can go check on the mustangs one last time, yeah?”

Steve could’ve kissed her, if the very thought of it didn’t go against the entire foundation of their relationship. Checking the mustangs was the easiest task by far, considering the other jobs they had left were to debrief the inmates and rake the round pen.

Pulling his hat low across his forehead to shade his eyes from the harsh sun, Steve grabbed a bale of hay from the nearby shed, throwing it easily up onto his shoulder to carry it to the paddock.

Once there, he tugged at the strings and tossed the slices at different intervals over the fence, creating extra piles so that Ozzy wouldn’t have to battle for a scrap of feed. His head continued to throb, his right eye threatening to water with the pressure building behind it, but he finished the task and turned to head back towards the others.

Munson was watching him.

He was standing with the other inmates, completely ignoring Robin’s speech, his attention fixed purely on Steve. He did glance sideways briefly, across Steve’s shoulder, and a small smile quirked at his lips.

Steve turned, followed his gaze to where Ozzy was happily eating alone at one of the new hay piles. Munson gave him a grateful nod, then forced his eyes back to Robin.

Steve tugged at the front of his shirt, pulled the sweat-damp collar away from his neck. Reaching his bag, he grabbed for his water bottle again and promptly dumped the contents of it over his head, letting the luke-warm water run down his throat and the back of his neck, soaking into his shirt, mussing up his hair.

He scrubbed a hand across his face, the water helping him wipe away sweat and dust and soothing his head just a tiny bit.

When he finally looked up the last of the inmates were climbing onto the bus, Hopper hurrying them along impatiently.

“Dingus, you almost made Munson trip over his own damn feet,” Robin hissed at him when the bus was pulling out of the driveway.

“What?” Steve asked innocently.

“Your little Baywatch move with the water there,” Robin said, a small look of disgust on her face.

“I was hot!” Steve defended.

“Yeah whatever, just try not to slut it up too much around that one, I think he nearly choked on his tongue,” she teased.

“He did well today,” Steve said, clearing his throat and trying to steer the conversation to a more professional place.

“Yeah, he did. But Steve -”

“I know,” Steve said sharply, then softened a little, knowing Robin was only worried about him. “I know,” he repeated. “I can’t get too close to him.”

Robin nudged his shoulder. “That’s right. So be careful.”

“I hear ya.”

Robin ruffled his hair, laughing when Steve slapped at her hand. “Don’t worry, Stevie, we’ll find you someone. Big old world out there.”

“Mmm,” he grunted. “Not a lot of options ‘round here though, is there?”

“No, but still…probably stay away from prison inmates, yeah?” she teased.

*****

Steve barely bothered to strip off his work clothes before collapsing into bed upon arriving home, his headache having gone from a nuisance to seriously debilitating. Robin had followed him home, hadn’t trusted him to not run off the road, had checked his horses for him before coming inside. Steve could now hear her now, chatting away to Dart and topping up his food bowl down the hallway.

Quietly, she made her way into his bedroom, sitting down carefully at the edge of his bed. Steve had pulled the covers up over his head in an effort to block out any light the curtains let through, was trembling under them now as the pain ratcheted up notch after notch.

“Oh, Stevie,” Robin whispered for the sake of his head. “Can I get you anything?”

Steve grunted, Robin thankfully interpreting it easily as a ‘no’.

“You really should see someone about this, you know,” she continued, gently patting his arm over the covers.

“Have,” Steve managed.

“I know, but the meds they gave you aren’t working anymore, so you need to go back.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“What are you, five?” Robin teased him, but backed off when Steve didn’t respond, knowing he didn’t have the energy for it. “I can stay here tonight, ok? I’ll look after you.”

That got a response, Steve shaking his head firmly despite the red-hot poker burning there. It was Monday night, Vickie always cooked for her and Robin on Mondays, and they watched some dumb show they loved. Robin had been spending enough time here with him, she needed to go home.

“Steve, I don’t mind -”

“No,” he forced out, hoping Robin wouldn’t argue, because every word was taking him way too much effort to form and get out.

She sighed. “Then I’m calling you in a few hours, ok? Or you call me, if the ringing’s gonna hurt your head. Otherwise I’m coming back.”

“M’kay.”

“Ok,” she parroted, then leant forward, pressed a barely-there kiss to the side of his head. “Feel better, Stevie.”

“Mmm.”

Before she left, Robin filled his water bottle and left it on his bedside table with strict orders to actually drink it, placed a bucket by the side of his bed just in case, and made sure his phone and pain killers were in reach.

Steve managed to drift into a fitful sleep not too long later, tossing and turning, throwing the covers off at some point because it was still too fucking hot. The heat was a huge trigger for his migraines, and he always struggled through the summer months with his outdoor job – and this summer was proving to be no exception.

He woke sluggishly around 7pm and dialled Robin, managing to slur out enough of a message so she knew he was still alive and yes he’d drunk his water and yes he’d taken more meds and yes he was feeling a little better.

That last point was a lie, and he knew Robin probably hadn’t bought it, but he just wanted her to be able to relax and enjoy her evening with Vickie.

She shouldn’t have to worry about him all the time - he was a grown man, for fuck’s sake.

But curled up in his lonely bed, room spinning and pain pulsing in time with his heartbeat, Steve didn’t feel like much of an adult. He was eight years old again, his head on fire just above his eye from when his dad had shoved him just a little too hard, sent him sprawling into the coffee table, opened up a cut and sent bruises blossoming around his eye.

“For god’s sake Steven, it was an accident, quit the theatrics,” his mother had huffed, wiping the blood none-too-gently from his face, manicured nails digging into his skin as she tilted his head left and right, narrowing her eyes accusingly at the cut that continued to bleed.

Steve had sniffled, tried to tell his mom that it hurt, tried to tell her every day for the next week that it still hurt, that he felt sick, that he got dizzy sometimes, that he kept forgetting what his teachers said at school.

But his mother wouldn’t hear it, and there was no way she’d take him to the doctor – not after one-too-many trips there, not after the recent broken wrist that had raised suspicions at the urgent care.

Steve had been plagued with migraines ever since.

The first time he’d stayed at his grandparents’ ranch, he’d been terrified to tell them when he had a migraine. At home when it happened his father would yell at him, would tell him to grow up, and his mother would hiss that he was fine, that he was being dramatic, that she thought he was over this by now.

But his grandma had known something was wrong, had seen it in the pinched expression on his face, in the clench of his fists. She’d guided him to bed, pulled the curtains tight, brewed him some sweet tea and sat beside him until he went to sleep. Sometimes, she’d sing softly to him, quiet enough to not exacerbate the pain, but loud enough to take his mind off it.

Steve still missed her, especially on days like these.

Even having Nancy with him had been better than being alone in this state. She hadn’t known quite what to do with him when he was in pain, had shied away from his needy hands, from his desire to just be held, to be looked after. But she’d tried her best, bringing him his meds, keeping any noise to a minimum, cleaning up his puke. Taking care of all the practical stuff, if not so much the emotional.

But he was alone now, and he had to get used to it.

Steve dragged the covers up over his head again. Dart had joined him at some stage and was purring away softly against his back.

Steve breathed through the pain and waited for sleep to take him again.

Chapter Text

As the next week passed, Steve continued to help Munson work with Ozzy.

The two of them made slow but tangible progress, managing to get a halter on the mare towards the end of the week, and the very early stages of teaching her how to lead.

Ozzy was still testing them every step of the way – she remained far more anxious than the other horses, spooking at seemingly nothing at times, shying away from Steve’s hands, never quite relaxing in his presence.

Notably, she was more comfortable around Munson than Steve.

Steve didn’t take it personally – he’d seen horses choose their person before, and Ozzy had clearly selected the quiet inmate as hers.

Munson was slowly building confidence, growing more comfortable in the round pen and working with Ozzy. However, Steve couldn’t help but notice his smile fade when he exited the pen, his shoulders slump again, the way he avoided standing with the rest of the group, the nervous looks he’d shoot their way whenever another inmate approached him.

New bruises showed up on him occasionally, Steve’s quiet questions about them shrugged away, the man remaining tight-lipped.

Steve had seen it before, but he hated that it was happening to Munson. He was a small guy, quieter and more anxious than the rest of the inmates, and of course that had been noticed and taken advantage of. But despite his nervousness, there was intelligence burning behind his dark eyes, and Steve saw it every time he looked at him.

He was having to remind himself more and more that Munson was an inmate, that this was his job, that he had to stay professional about the whole thing, no matter how many times Munson threw him a soft smile whenever Steve praised his efforts.

But working with the other inmates just wasn’t the same, and while Steve still put his all into working with everyone, he couldn’t help but look forward to Munson’s turn in the round pen each day.

On this particular Friday, he was watching closely as Munson clipped a lead rope to Ozzy’s halter and gently tried to encourage the mare to follow him. She’d take a few stiff steps and then stop again, pulling back sharply against the rope.

“Don’t get too far in front of her,” Steve advised from the outside of the fence. “She’s kinda worried, so just give her a minute.”

Munson nodded, putting some slack in the rope and waiting. Ozzy tossed her head, the resulting movement of the rope giving her a fright, sending her scuttling forward and almost bowling into Munson.

“Shit,” Steve cursed, ready to intervene, but Munson held a hand up like Steve had taught him, holding his ground and redirecting the mare away from him.

She stepped around him, whirling to face him and hanging off the end of the lead.

“That was good,” Steve praised him. “Talk to her, let her know it’s alright.”

This was something Munson had initially struggled with – he’d told Steve he felt stupid talking to the horse, didn’t want people listening to him, but Steve had convinced him to not worry about anyone else, explained that the sound of his voice was something Ozzy could learn and associate with being calm.

“You’re ok, Ozzy,” Munson murmured. “Just settle, I’ll wait.”

Gradually, the mare started to calm. Munson stood, forcing himself to relax, not reaching out to touch the mare, just giving her space.

It was all going well until one of the inmates scuffed his boot in the sand under the round pen fence, purposely kicking a small cloud of it towards the mare.

Ozzy lurched forward with a snort, narrowly missing leaping right on top of Munson.

Steve was moving before he really even had time to process what he was doing, acting on instinct and scaling the fence effortlessly, at Munson’s side in seconds.

The man was panicking, trying to cling onto the rope while Ozzy thrashed around at the other end of it.

“Let go,” Steve instructed, as calmly as he could. He reached out, taking the rope from Munson’s hands.

When Ozzy tugged backwards, Steve went with her, allowing the mare to back up rapidly until her butt touched the fence. She sprang forward again at that, and Steve moved with her, keeping only light tension on the rope – guiding, not forcing.

There was no way he’d ever overpower the skittery mare; no point in ever trying to. He hissed when he wasn’t quick enough to move with her at one point, the rope dragging harshly through his hands, mourning the gloves he’d stuffed in his back pocket because it was too goddamn hot to wear them all the time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hopper berating the man that had purposely scared Ozzy, leading him away.

Good, the fucking idiot. Could have gotten Munson killed.

Munson, for his part, was pressed up against the round pen fence, looking frankly terrified as Steve worked to settle the mare again.

Finally, when Ozzy had levelled out again, Steve held out the rope to Munson.

He shook his head.

“S’alright, she’s calmed down again now.”

“I…I think I’ve had enough for today,” Munson mumbled, eyes drifting to the ground.

And dammit, Steve thought they were finally past this.

“Come on, I’ll stay in here, just lead her around one lap,” Steve encouraged. He knew Munson had gotten a fright, but he also knew how damaging it could be to finish a session on a negative note. “I’ll walk with ya.”

Munson held firm, still backed up against the fence, not making a move to take the rope.

Steve sighed. “Ok, how ‘bout I lead her, and you walk next to us?”

“She’s not gonna…like jump at me again is she?” Munson asked quietly.

Steve bit his lip. That wasn’t a promise he could make, especially not with a horse as reactive as Ozzy. “Well…I can’t guarantee that, but I’ll stay in between you two, alright?”

Finally, Munson gave a tiny nod. Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and clicked his tongue at Ozzy, putting a tiny amount of pressure on the lead rope.

She stepped forward, and Munson made his way to Steve’s side as they walked a slow lap of the round pen.

Halfway around, Steve tried to offer the rope to Munson again, but he refused to take it.

“Nah, I don’t…I don’t want to, man.”

Steve nodded, swallowed back his disappointment. “S’ok, you know? What happened? Wasn’t your fault, or hers. And she’ll be alright, you haven’t lost any progress or anything.”

Munson sniffed. Glanced at Steve’s hand as they reached the gate, stopping next to it.

“You should get your hand checked,” he murmured, and then he slipped out of the gate, leaving Steve alone with Ozzy.

Blinking, Steve loosened his grip on the rope, looking down at his hand. His palm was raw and angry where the rope had tugged through it, and he knew it was going to blister from the friction. It was stinging, now that he thought about it, and he knew from experience that the pain was only going to get worse with movement.

“Thanks, I -” Steve looked up, but Munson was out of earshot, retreating across the dirt towards the prison bus.

His shoulders slumped a little. He turned to Ozzy, offering his hand for her to sniff it, but she only gave it a wary look and didn’t step any closer. With a sigh, he unclipped the rope, signalling for the a few of the men to herd her back into the paddock.

“You ok?” Robin asked him, hand rubbing over his back as he exited the round pen.

“Yeah,” Steve grunted. “A little rope burn, but nothin’ major. Hope Munson’s alright, he got a fright.”

“It’s his first time having something go wrong,” Robin pointed out. “He’ll be fine by Monday, I’m sure.”

“I don’t want him stewin’ over this all damn weekend,” Steve replied, gnawing briefly on a lower lip.

Mind made up, he strode towards the prison bus, ignoring Robin’s hissed protests. As he went, he experimentally twitched the fingers of his sore hand, wincing as the burn stung sharply.

Munson was alone, squatted on the other side of the bus in the small amount of shade there, looking blankly towards the horizon.

Steve stopped, leaning up against the bus next to him.

“Uh…hi,” he started, tipping his head forward so his hat sat low.

Munson glanced up at him, made a small noise of acknowledgement.

“Here to kick me outta the programme?” he mumbled.

Steve frowned. “What are you talkin’ about? Ain’t kickin’ you outta anything.”

“I thought…” Munson trailed off. “Well, I fucked up, right? Ozzy hates me now, she’s better off with someone else anyway.”

“Ed – Munson, what do you think happened in there?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I did something wrong, scared Ozzy, she tried to run.”

Steve shook his head. “You didn’t see Hagan kick up the dirt?”

Munson blinked a couple of times, staying quiet.

No, then.

“He spooked Ozzy on purpose. You did nothin’ wrong.”

“I…I didn’t see that,” Munson said, looking down at the dirt. “Too busy trying not to end up with a lap full of horse, you know?” He smiled, something small and fleeting, a tiny spark that Steve wanted to nurture.

Steve laughed briefly. “Yeah, fair enough. Look, Ozzy might be a little worked up when she’s next in the pen, but I promise she’ll get over it pretty quick.”

Munson nodded, a dark curl bobbing next to his face where it had slipped out of his bun. “Thanks, man.” His gaze flicked to Steve’s hand held awkwardly at his size. “Your hand ok?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, it’ll be fine, I’ll get some water or somethin’ on it. Not my first rope burn, ya know?”

Munson seemed to ponder on that for a moment, his eyes lingering on Steve.

And Steve felt something…shift.

The noise from the rest of the inmates back at the round pen faded, the snorting and dull thud of hooves on dirt quietening, until all there was in the world was Steve and Munson and the minuscule shade from a prison bus.

Steve sucked in a breath, let it out slowly. Munson kept his eyes on him, practically raking them over Steve now from where he was squatted below him, and Steve almost shivered despite the heat.

Alarm bells were ringing loudly in his head, a little voice that sounded an awful lot like Robin chanting a litany of don’t do this, bad idea, don’t fucking go there…

Steve dragged his eyes away from Munson. Shifted against the bus, shirt nearly glued to his back with sweat.

With herculean effort, he cleared his throat and said, “Well…I better get back to it.”

Munson looked away, something like disappointment flitting across his face. “Yeah. You probably shouldn’t…I mean you probably shouldn’t be here with me, anyway.”

He’s right.

But Steve found himself starting to care less and less.

“Just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Steve said quickly. “And you’ll be here on Monday?”

Munson nodded.

“Good, well, have a good weekend.” Steve tipped his hat and forced his feet to move, heading back towards the round pen and cringing internally. Have a good weekend? The guy’s in prison, you fucking idiot, he’s not gonna have a good weekend, is he?

Later, Robin emptied the contents of several water bottles over Steve’s hand. He tried to hide his discomfort as his palm stung and throbbed, but Robin sensed it anyway, murmured an apology but insisted she needed to clean it. The water was warm anyway, there was nothing cooling about it, but at least it cleared away any dust and debris.

Afterwards, she rifled through their first aid kit, holding up several bandages and inspecting them.

“Robs, it’s fine, don’t needa be fussin’ so much,” Steve argued.

“Shush,” Robin ignored him, finally selecting a bandage with a little nod and wrapping it around his palm.

Steve let her work, watching the dust trail from the prison bus as it trundled away down the road in the distance. A heavy silence had fallen between the two of them, and Steve was waiting for Robin to say something, to berate him about Munson, but she was holding her tongue stubbornly.

Finally, he sighed. “Just say it, Robs.”

“What?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

Steve flapped his good hand. “About Munson. I know you want to.”

She secured the bandage with a safety pin and rocked back on her heels. “What do you want me to say, Stevie? That you shouldn’t be getting so close to him, that you shouldn’t have sought him out at the bus, that you shouldn’t be thinking about him all the time?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look, I know you are.”

“Robs -”

“You already know all this, dingus. And I’ve already told you, several times. I just…I worry about that big dumb heart of yours.” She flicked the brim of his hat. “I know you, I know you fall quickly for people, and…I mean, you do like Munson, right?”

Steve flinched, because he’d been hoping it wasn’t that obvious…

Robin picked up on his worry. “I mean, I could tell,” she said quickly. “I don’t think anyone else has noticed, not yet anyway.”

Steve rubbed a hand across his face. “Why am I so fuckin’ stupid?” he said glumly. “This is stupid, right? This is really fuckin’ dumb.”

Robin made a sympathetic face and patted his shoulder. “It kinda is, but hey, can’t help what the heart wants,” she said. “Just maybe try to…gently steer it somewhere else?”

Steve groaned, gripping the wooden bench he was sitting on. “It’s just…he’s different to anyone we’ve ever worked with, ya know? He’s clever, and he wants to learn even if he’s nervous, he’s so gentle with Ozzy, and he’s kinda shy but I think it’s just somethin’ he’s learnt to try and protect himself in that place, and I wanna know more about him. Also, I know that damn jumpsuit doesn’t do anyone any favours, but honestly Robs he’s hot -”

“Ok, Romeo,” Robin cut in, standing up.

“Fuck,” Steve said, dropping his head down, chin to his chest.

“Yes, fuck,” Robin agreed. “You need an intervention. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because, Vickie happens to have a lovely single friend who is finally looking to date again after breaking up with her partner a while ago-”

“Robin,” Steve warned, because they’d talked about this, he wasn’t ready –

“Steve,” she argued. “It can just be a few drinks. Maybe you’ll hit it off, maybe you can just be friends, or maybe it could be, you know…something more. Or you never have to see each other again. I think you’ll really like her, you’ve got some stuff in common, she likes…sport, and stuff.”

Steve blinked up at her several times, not amused.

“Come on,” Robin pressed. “Maybe then you can stop making puppy eyes at Munson all day.”

Steve scoffed. “I don’t make puppy eyes at the man, Robs.”

She grinned, her own eyes twinkling. “You absolutely do, dingus.”

*****

Chrissy was…nice.

It was Saturday night, Steve had driven with Robin and Vickie into town (more a small collection of buildings than a real town; a gas station, a small grocery store, the animal feed supply, the local school and church, the vet clinic Nancy worked out of and that Steve now avoided as much as possible…) and the three of them were now spending the evening at the only bar in the vicinity.

They’d met Chrissy there, Vickie introducing her to Steve before she’d headed off to sit at a nearby table with Robin.

Chrissy and Steve had chatted a bit, Steve doing his best to make conversation despite his heart not really being in it. Chrissy was sweet, she was pretty, she smiled as he spoke, she listened politely as he talked about his horses and his job. She’d also been giving him plenty of signs she was interested in him, but Steve just couldn’t bring himself to reciprocate, knew deep down what the issue was even if he tried to ignore it.

She wasn’t Eddie.

Munson.

Fuck it. Eddie.

She was light where Eddie was dark, gentle where the man was intense, soft where he was hard-edged.

“So…Vickie told me you’re also bouncing back from a break-up?” Chrissy asked cautiously, once they were on their second drink.

Bouncing back was maybe a little generous. Steve felt like he was still drowning half the time.

He swallowed thickly, eyes falling to his glass. “Um, yeah.”

Chrissy swirled her drink, watching the liquid move. “Me too.”

“How long…?” Steve asked carefully, heart starting to pound a little. He’d rather talk about anything else, the thought of Nancy starting to leave a sour taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with his beer.

“Nearly a year,” Chrissy said. “Well, ten months. I…I thought it was time to try and date again, you know?”

No. Not really.

“Mmm,” he agreed awkwardly.

“And Vickie said you’d understand, that you were in a similar position, that maybe…” she trailed off, eyeing him heatedly over her glass.

Steve knew that look. He’d been on the receiving end of it many times, knew Chrissy was interested, even if this only turned into a one-time thing.

And once upon a time, before Eddie, before Nancy, he’d already be leading her out of the bar, already have an arm wrapped around her waist and be whispering his intentions into her ear.

But not now. Not tonight.

He met her eyes briefly, then looked away.

Chrissy sat back a little, nodding once. “This…isn’t going anywhere, is it?”

Steve winced. “I -”

“It’s ok,” Chrissy gave him a small smile. “I get it. Well, maybe…maybe we could just be friends?”

Steve relaxed in his seat, letting out a small sigh of relief. “I’d like that.”

“Did you watch the Diamondbacks the other night? Vickie said you liked sport -”

“Yes!” Steve lit up, leaning forward in his seat. “They killed it! I was kinda worried during the first half, but then…”

Chapter Text

Scoops was sick.

It was nearing 1am on Monday morning, and Steve was walking the old horse again, trying to stop him from lying down and thrashing around. It was colic - Scoops was prone to it, and Steve could often resolve it himself at home, had spent the last hour hoping against hope that this time would be no different.

But it was only worsening. Scoops was sweating, turning to bite at his sore stomach, wobbling on his feet and wanting to go down again.

Steve clenched his eyes shut for a moment, rubbed a tired hand across his face.

He’d already rung the vet clinic earlier and the voicemail had informed him Nancy was on call this weekend. Why couldn’t it have been Fred’s turn? He’d hung up then, counting on the colic episode passing quickly as it had previously.

Eventually, he had to admit defeat. Steve wouldn’t put his own stubbornness in front of his animals’ welfare, and this wasn’t going away without professional help.

Sighing, he pulled his cell out of his pocket, and numbly dialed Nancy.

He still knew the number by heart.

She answered on the fifth ring, voice thick with sleep.

“Hello?”

“Um…hi, Nance.” His voice was croaky, rough with a lack of sleep.

“Steve? Are you…are you drunk?” she whispered.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, part of him wishing that was all it was. “No, it’s Scoops. He’s got colic, I tried to deal with it myself but it’s gettin’ worse. Believe me, I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t -”

“I’ll be there soon,” Nancy interrupted, her tone clipped and short. “Jonathan, can you get the light?” she muttered in the background of the call. “How long has Scoops -”

“The gate’s open,” Steve cut in, swallowing thickly, picturing Jonathan lying next to her, and fuck why’d she have to say his name? “I’ll be here.”

He ended the call, cutting off whatever Nancy was going to say.

Scoops sighed heavily.

“Me too, buddy,” Steve mumbled, stroking gently over the horse’s damp neck.

The horse pawed at the ground, looking to lie down again.

“Scoops, you can lie down if you stay still,” Steve said gently. He knew the horse was exhausted, but there was a danger of him causing internal damage if he started to roll and thrash around.

Scoops lay down heavily, thankfully happy to just lie still for now. Steve crouched next to him, hand on his shoulder.

“Not feelin’ good, huh old man?” he murmured. “S’alright, you’ll be ok soon.”

He glanced up, watching the moths and beetles dancing around the barn light. It was a warm night again, the stars on full display out here.

Despite tonight’s circumstances, Steve always enjoyed looking up at the night sky from the ranch. Living in the city he’d barely been able to glimpse the stars, the sky always choked out by pollution and towering buildings. Here, it was a myriad of blacks and dark blues, the stars shining bright, and Steve could even recognize some of the constellations his grandfather had taught him as a young boy.

When Nancy pulled into his driveway, Steve was sitting quietly by his horse. He felt the car door slamming in his teeth, winced as Nancy came into view, all hurriedly put-together and clutching her bag of gear in a tight grip.

“Steve,” she greeted him sharply.

“Hi, Nance,” Steve said, not meeting her eye.

“So, how long’s he been showing signs?”

Straight to business, then.

Good. Steve much preferred it that way.

He cleared his throat. “Couple of hours. He’s had it before, he usually gets over it himself if I just walk him for a bit…well, you know that.”

Steve and Nancy had spent plenty of hours together with a sick Scoops in the past, after all.

Nancy nodded awkwardly.

“But he’s gettin’ worse, so…”

Nancy placed her bag on the ground, rifling through it and pulling out some equipment. “Banamine,” she said, holding up a syringe like Steve didn’t know what it was.

She injected the pain meds, whispering quietly to Scoops, the horse’s ears perking up when he recognized her voice. They tubed him next, working quietly in tandem, Steve trying not to think about how easily they fell back into an old rhythm. He held Scoops’ head steady while Nancy handled the tube, rubbing a thumb over the horse’s jaw to soothe and distract him.

Eventually the meds kicked in and Scoops settled, eyelids drooping in relief. Nancy was satisfied there was nothing too serious going on and handed out several more pre-drawn syringefuls of pain meds for Steve to follow up with over the next day or so.

Steve took them, then shuffled a little on his feet. “Could ya…give me a couple more, maybe?”

Nancy quirked an eyebrow.

“So’s I don’t have to call you out here the next time it happens,” Steve said awkwardly. He avoided her eye still, patting Scoops.

Seeing her here, in what used to be their home but was now just his, was unsettling him more than he’d thought it would. They’d spent close to two years here, carving out a space for themselves, tidying up the ranch, making it fit to live in, fit for perhaps a family one day…

“Steve -”

“Nancy.”

“Look, I know this isn’t…ideal, but you know I’m more than happy to treat your animals whenever you need me, you don’t need to feel awkward about it.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “Well thanks, Nance, I feel fine now,” he muttered.

He felt more than saw Nancy roll her eyes briefly. “Look, I’ll give you two extra doses,” she conceded. “But you need to ring the clinic if it doesn’t resolve after that in future.”

Steve nodded stiffly. Nancy packed away her things, pausing to rub Scoops on his muzzle the way she knew he liked.

Scoops leaned into her touch happily.

Traitor, Steve grumbled internally.

Without another word, Nancy left, and Steve listened to the achingly familiar sound of her station wagon as it rolled down the driveway, the noise loud in the otherwise quiet night.

He stayed up a little longer with Scoops, making sure the horse was ok for him to leave until morning. When he showed no signs of being in pain again, Steve left him to try and get at least a little sleep before work in the morning.

He tossed and turned, his dreams plagued at first with Nancy.

Shortly before dawn, he was still haunted by dark eyes and curly hair, but this time of a different variety.

Eddie brushed through his dreams like a shadow, lingering in the corner of his eye, always watching, never speaking. He was a breath of fresh air, a welcome relief from the scorching heat that often followed Steve even into sleep.

When his alarm blared far too soon, Steve woke drenched in sweat. He dragged himself to the shower, skipping breakfast in favour of heading out to check on Scoops before he had to drive to work.

*****

“The hell happen to you?” Robin asked as he stepped out of his car, still trying to rub the bleariness from his eyes.

“Scoops had colic,” Steve said in way of explanation.

“Again?”

“Yeah. He often has it this time of year.”

“You were up all night?” Robin guessed.

“Most of it. Had to call Nancy out to check him.”

Robin winced in sympathy. “How’d that go?”

He shrugged. “As well as it coulda, I guess.”

“You could’ve taken the day off, I’ve got things handled.”

Steve shook his head. “Wouldn’t do that to ya. Besides, I…” he trailed off, but it was too late.

Robin’s eyes glinted. “You want to see how Munson goes today?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“You’re hopeless,” Robin shook her head. “Well at least finish this, you need it more than me.”

She handed him her travel mug of coffee, Steve accepting it gratefully. He wasn’t usually one for coffee, especially with how damn strong Robin liked it, but this morning called for it.

The prison bus arrived a short time later, Hopper yanking open the door and the inmates filing out. Hagan was unfortunately still present, his behaviour last Friday evidently not enough to get him kicked out of the program. But Steve didn’t miss the way Hopper ushered him aside and said something firmly to him, Hagan nodding and looking down at the ground before walking away with a scowl.

Eddie exited the bus last, as usual; always a few steps behind the other inmates.

Steve allowed himself a moment to briefly scan his eyes over the man’s face. To check for any new bruises, he told himself.

Not to linger on his dark eyes, his delicate features, the way the corners of his mouth curled up slightly when he spotted Steve.

Not for any of those reasons.

To his disappointment, there was a shadow of a new bruise across the side of his jaw.

Steve looked away quickly and greeted the group of inmates, running them through the plan for the day. He wanted to teach those with the more confidant horses how to tie them today, and have others just keep working on leading.

As for Eddie, well, he’d be happy if the man just got in the round pen with Ozzy without being frightened.

Steve got through the morning, relying quite heavily on Robin due to his lack of sleep and feeling like shit. Hargrove went surprisingly well with his little chestnut mare he’d dubbed Red, managing to actually keep a handle on his temper and be patient with the horse. He’d even cracked a smile when he managed to catch and lead her in a lap around the pen with no fuss.

Finally, just before lunchtime, it was Eddie’s turn. He’d hung back all morning, watching Steve and the horses quietly until he couldn’t avoid going in any longer.

Steve called him over, heading into the paddock with him to at least attempt to catch Ozzy.

Here, if they spoke quietly, Steve knew they would be out of earshot of the other inmates.

“So…” he started, closing the gate behind Eddie. “Your weekend go ok?” He cringed even as he said it. Again, his weekend was probably shit, you idiot…

Eddie glanced at him, then away again. “Was fine,” he mumbled.

Steve nodded. “Good.”

As they walked towards the far end of the paddock where Ozzy’s black coat stood out, Steve felt Eddie’s eyes on him again.

“You kinda look like shit,” Eddie said after a moment.

Steve barked out a laugh. “Thanks.”

“Sorry, just…you look tired.”

“Yeah, was up most of the night,” he rubbed the back of his neck, stole another quick look at Eddie. “Had a sick horse. Scoops.”

“Is he ok now?” Eddie sounded genuinely concerned.

“He’s doin’ better. He had colic.”

“What’s that?”

“Kinda like a stomach ache, but it can be real serious.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s ok now.”

“Me too.” Steve slowed his steps as they approached Ozzy, motioning for Eddie to go ahead of him. The horse was far more receptive to Eddie catching her than she was Steve, so he left the man to it.

Eddie gave him a cautious look, but Steve only waved him forward again.

“You know what to do,” he assured him.

Eddie walked slowly up to the mare, talking to her under his breath. She snorted once, watching him warily, but let him approach and smooth a hand over her neck before easing the halter on.

“That’s good, real good,” Steve complimented. “Now let’s walk her over to the round pen, just quietly.”

Eddie encouraged the mare forward, and she followed, not quite relaxed but at least willing.

They walked quietly at first, and Steve usually enjoyed just listening to the horses move around them, to the occasional bird overhead, the distant sound of Robin talking to the inmates. Blame the lack of sleep, blame the emotion of the previous night, but he found himself wanting to talk to Eddie, and once he started he couldn’t stop.

“Had to get my ex to come and see Scoops last night, she’s, ah, she’s a vet, and she was on call, so…” Steve shoved his hands deep in his jean pockets.

What the fuck was he doing?

Eddie offered him a sideways look. “That sounds awkward.”

Steve huffed. “It was. I thought…well, I thought it’d be ok, I thought I’d be ok with seein’ her again, but now I…well, it just dredged a lot of shit up, you know? Stuff I thought I was getting’ over, but…” his voice trailed off again, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Eddie hummed, a soft noise of acknowledgement.

Steve’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t…well, I shouldn’t be dumpin’ this on you. Shouldn’t really be talkin’ to you like this at all, really.”

Eddie bristled a little. Ozzy flicked her ears between the two of them.

“Then don’t,” Eddie muttered, immediately on the defense.

“I…I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve said quickly. “I just…sorry, this is my fault. I’ll shut up, how’s that?”

Eddie fell silent for a moment, and Steve cursed himself internally, accepted that he’d ruined whatever small thing was starting to build between the two of them.

And then Eddie spoke again. “Are you…alright?”

Steve’s step faltered. They were approaching the gate now, and would have to stop talking in a minute or so or risk being overheard.

“I don’t really know what that is anymore,” he said quietly, not sure Eddie even heard him.

But he had. Eddie looked at them then, really looked at him. “I know the feeling.”

Steve swallowed. Turned and met the man’s eye, nodded.

Because Eddie was in prison, he was often bruised up and smacked around, he clearly had no friends on the inside. Of course he was pretty familiar with not being alright, what did Steve have to complain about in comparison to that?

But Eddie only looked down at the rope in his hand, then back up with a small smile. “So…round pen?”

“Round pen,” Steve agreed.

*****

Steve knew Eddie was nervous. He could tell in the way his voice shook just the slightest bit when he spoke to Ozzy, the way he cringed back when she made a sudden move, the way he kept shooting nervous looks towards Steve’s spot where he was perched on the railing.

But despite that, he managed to lead her around several laps of the pen. Ozzy wasn’t quite ready to be tied, Steve thought, but he showed Eddie how to make the knot anyway, as he had with everyone else.

“There, give it a go,” he said, holding onto Ozzy and signaling for Eddie to try with a spare rope.

Eddie’s tongue darted out briefly between his teeth as he focused. Steve’s face twitched as he held back a smile.

“Like this?” Eddie asked, looking up at Steve for confirmation.

The knot was…not quite right.

“Just…undo that last bit, the rope’s gotta go through that little loop there…”

Eddie frowned as he tried to follow Steve’s instructions, only succeeding in making a bird’s nest out of the rope.

“Here, lemma show ya again.” Steve tugged a glove off with his teeth and reached for the knot to untangle it, ignoring the slight twinge in his injured palm.

His hand brushed Eddie’s before the other man could let go of the rope.

Eddie jerked away a little in surprise.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Steve murmured.

Eddie recovered quickly, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Show me?”

Steve did, running him through the knot several times until Eddie could tie it competently. As he watched him practice a final time, Steve glanced briefly over to Robin, thanking someone looking down on him that she had the other inmates lined up practicing with their own knots at the hitching posts, oblivious to what was happening in the round pen.

Or, at least, the inmates might’ve been oblivious.

Robin met his gaze, gave him a look, and Steve quickly returned his attention back to Eddie.

The man was smiling, looking down at the perfectly tied knot in front of him.

Steve tilted his head, inspecting it, and nodded. “You got it, that’s pretty damn good.”

Eddie’s smile widened before he seemed to check himself, shrugging and returning his face to something neutral. “Just a knot,” he sniffed. “They’re all doing it, too.” He gestured lazily towards the other inmates.

“Nah,” Steve shook his head. “I can tell from here that Hagan’s got his wrong. Seriously, a small breeze would have that undone in seconds.”

Eddie turned back to Ozzy, his face going tight.

Steve stepped a little closer and lowered his voice further. “Is it him that’s been hittin’ you?”

Eddie didn’t say anything. His silence was confirmation enough for Steve.

“I can talk to Hopper,” Steve murmured. “He can’t keep doin’ that, it’s not allowed, he -”

“You think people in prison are gonna follow the rules?” Eddie snapped. “You think the guards give a shit, anyway? Hopper’s better than most, but he can’t do anything when he’s not on shift, which is often enough.”

Steve fumbled for something to say. He was trying to help, he didn’t like seeing Eddie hurt all the time.

“Still, maybe I could -”

“Don’t,” Eddie interrupted. “Just…just don’t, ok? It’s fine.”

Steve stepped back slightly, nodding. He was getting in too deep here, he was forgetting himself.

“Besides, you don’t know anything about me,” Eddie mumbled. “Maybe I deserve it.”

Steve’s head shot back up to look at Eddie again. “You don’t,” he said firmly.

Eddie scoffed. “How would you know?”

“I…” Steve opened his mouth, closed it again when he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Eddie was right, Steve knew nothing about him, had no idea what he’d done to land himself in prison. For all Steve knew, Eddie had hurt people.

But watching Eddie turn away to talk gently to Ozzy, watching his fingers scratch lightly over her muzzle, the soft look in his eyes, Steve had a feeling it was something else. Eddie was closed off, easily frustrated, and clearly had a lot going on under the surface, but at this point in his career Steve knew a violent man when he saw one, and Eddie wasn’t it.

“Let’s, ah, let’s finish up, it’s time for lunch anyway.” Steve said eventually.

Eddie led Ozzy back towards the paddock without another word, without waiting for Steve to follow him. Steve jogged ahead anyway, opening the gate and waving them through, doing his best to appear nonchalant and not like he was curling into a ball on the inside.

Why did he keep fucking this up?

And, more importantly, why couldn’t he just do his job and act professionally around Eddie? He needed to talk to Robin, get her to take over working with Eddie maybe, because his heart was thudding every time the man so much as glanced in his direction now.

As he made his way over to the back of the prison van to start hauling out the paper bags of pre-packed lunches, he vowed to keep his distance from Eddie. He’d sit with Robin while he ate, he’d put his attention back on other inmates, he’d do his fucking job like he was supposed to, like he was good at.

He lasted fifteen minutes.

He was trying, he really was, listening to Robin chatter away while she ate her own homemade lunch. The prison provided extra lunches for them, but Robin always screwed her nose up at the stale sandwiches and preferred to bring her own. Steve figured any food he didn’t have to make himself was good enough, and always forced down the bland meal. Sometimes, it was pretty much all he ate all day, his desire for cooking having packed up and left along with his girlfriend.

He'd gotten roast beef in his sandwich today, which was the better option.

He did his best to focus on Robin and on just chewing. Unbidden, his gaze strayed to Eddie anyway. The man was sitting alone, picking unhappily at his sandwich and flicking bits of ham back into the bag, his nose screwed up in disgust.

Steve sighed. Who was he kidding, anyway?

“Hey, Munson!” he called to Eddie, holding up his own sandwich. “You wanna trade? I got beef, but I prefer ham.”

It was a blatant lie. He’d pick beef over ham any damn day.

Next to him, Robin rolled her eyes.

Eddie looked at him for a long moment, before shrugging and starting to reconstruct his sandwich for Steve’s sake. They swapped bags, Eddie stuffing half the beef sandwich into his mouth in one bite, Steve chewing his ham one a little less enthusiastically.

“Thanks,” Eddie said through his mouthful.

“Sure,” Steve said, keeping their interaction brief with the eyes of everyone else on them. As he returned to his seat next to Robin, he passed Hagan who balled up his paper bag and tossed it into the dirt. “Hagan!” he snapped, “Pick up your damn trash.”

Hagan glared up at him. For a moment, the two of them locked eyes, neither budging.

Several pairs of eyes fell on them.

“Pick it up,” Steve ground out.

Hagan broke first, muttering something under his breath as he stood to collect his paper bag.

Steve exhaled slowly and then slumped down next to Robin.

“You good?” she whispered to him.

“No,” Steve huffed. “I need a damn nap.”

Chapter Text

Steve swiped a hand across his forehead, blinking as sweat dripped into and stung his eyes. The heat draped over him like a heavy blanket, sapping any moisture out of the air.

The end of summer couldn’t come soon enough for him.

It was the tail end of another week, Steve having spent it at work doing a great job at staying professional, in his opinion. Sure, he still hadn’t talked to Robin about having her take over working with Eddie, but that was because he was doing fine, keeping things strictly business, forcing his smiles and glances towards the inmate to remain at a healthy minimum, at a perfectly normal level. Eddie was continuing to make good progress with Ozzy – moving on to tying and brushing her - and everything was fine.

So what if he was itching to reach out and touch? If he was desperate to get more than a few words at a time out of the other man, dying to know his story – not necessarily what he’d done to wind up in prison, but just more about the man that seemed so different to most inmates Steve had ever worked with.

He could ignore those feelings for the sake of his job.

It’d be fine.

Now, on Saturday afternoon, he was bent over a hoof belonging to his neighbour Doris Driscoll’s old pony Sugar. Once upon a time, the little grey pony had been adored by her grandchildren, but they’d long since grown older and moved off to college. Steve trimmed his hooves for Doris and helped her out around her property on weekends every so often.

“And how’s that job of yours going?” Doris was asking, stroking Sugar’s nose as Steve worked away.

“Goin’ just fine, Mrs Driscoll,” Steve replied, gritting his teeth with effort as he cut through a rock-hard section of hoof.

“Good. I worry about you sometimes, mingling with all that unsavoury lot.”

Steve placed the hoof back down on the ground. He stood up and stretched his arms out in front of him, spine cracking with the movement. “They’re not all bad,” he told her. “A lot of them just need someone to give them a chance. Besides, they’re pretty careful about who they allow into the program.”

Doris grunted at that, then raised her eyebrows. “I saw Patrick at the store the other day, and he was telling me that Eddie Munson’s on yer course. That true?”

Steve froze halfway to reaching down for the hoof again. Patrick worked with the mustangs, transporting them and delivering feed and other supplies for them. What he shouldn’t be doing was gossiping with old ladies at the grocery store about who he saw in the program, but Steve would deal with that later.

“You know I’m not s’posed to talk about that kinda stuff, Mrs Driscoll,” Steve said awkwardly, lifting his hat to shove his hair back under it.

Doris waved a hand flippantly. “It’s just me, boy. Who am I gonna tell?”

Everyone you see, Steve thought to himself. He knew the old lady liked to gossip, knew she went to church every Sunday more for the opportunity to natter away after the service than for any other reason. He stayed quiet, lifting Sugar’s hoof again and rasping away to make the edges smooth.

“Well,” she continued anyway, “if he is, you better watch yourself, he’s a bad bugger. Him and that daddy of his, he’s locked up in there somewhere too. I hope they’ve thrown away the damn key.”

Steve clenched his jaw, his heart thudding. Several questions were on the tip of his tongue, but he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t…

“What’d he do?” he blurted, trying and failing to keep his voice even.

“It was a couple years ago now, before you got here. The two of them ran quite the little syndicate, did a string of burglaries all over the area, car thefts and all sorts. Word is Eddie was selling drugs too, they’d gotten their hands on a whole load of them from god knows where. But I remember, I’d see that damn boy hanging around town at night sometimes looking shifty, I knew he was up to no good, I told the sheriff so, you know?”

Steve’s hand was shaking a little where it was gripping the rasp. He forced it to still, forced himself to keep going and appear indifferent as Doris spoke.

“And his uncle Wayne, I did feel for him, he was always a good sort. You ever run into him? Lives not twenty minutes from here. Anyway, he looked after Eddie for a long time while his dad was serving time for a whole host of other charges. I suppose he did his best for the boy, but it wasn’t enough, and once Munson Snr was out of prison, he and Eddie were right back to it again. After a while they got too cocky, bit off more than they could chew, tried to steal a van transporting money to the bank, it all went sideways and the driver ended up shot…it was all in the papers everywhere, you really didn’t hear about it?”

Steve shook his head, trying to process what she’d told him.

Doris laughed humourlessly. “You kids, you never read the papers, do you? Too busy scrolling on yer devices now. You know, you should really read the proper news sometime…”

Steve tuned out as Doris continued to speak, giving him an emotive lecture of the benefits of the paper vs the internet. He was thinking only of Eddie, of what Doris had said about someone getting shot, hoped like hell that Eddie’s father had been the offender in that scenario and not Eddie himself, thought surely Eddie wouldn’t have been allowed in the mustang program after a crime as violent as that…

He thought about Eddie’s soft eyes, his gentle hands, the care with which he treated Ozzy.

“I’m all done here,” Steve interrupted Doris’ speech, patting Sugar on the shoulder and gathering his tools.

“Oh, well, thank you as always,” Doris said, quickly recovering from being cut off. “You just wait right there for a moment, I’ve got some muffins for you to take home. Is it just you, still, or is that nice girl of yours back?”

Steve closed his eyes briefly. Mrs Driscoll had a way of being both well-meaning and yet cutting him to his core at the same time.

“No, Mrs Driscoll,” he said quietly, “Nancy’s not comin’ back.”

“That’s a shame,” she sighed. “Well, I’ll give you half the batch then.”

Steve stuck around while the elderly woman waddled inside to fetch her baked goods, untying Sugar while he waited to lead him back to his paddock. He walked in silence, watching his boots kick up the dust, listening to the dull thuds of the pony’s hooves on the ground. After turning Sugar loose, he leant against the gate for a moment, looking across the paddock back towards his own ranch, deep in thought.

“Here ya go.” Doris pulled him back to reality, holding out a container for him.

He forced a smile, taking it. “Thanks, Mrs Driscoll, you didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense, you’re always helping me out. Now, you watch yourself at work, won’t you?”

He brought his index finger to the brim of his hat, tipping it a tiny bit. “Always, Mrs Driscoll.”

*****

Steve’s next stop that day was Robin’s place, to help her shift a new couch inside. The drive was thankfully short, the A/C barely managing to circulate anything but hot air. He gave up on it halfway in favour of winding down the windows, dust seeping through and sticking to sweat-slick skin.

Still, he was deep enough in thought that he was able to ignore the worst of the heat.

There was a reason he didn’t pay much attention to the news, that he never googled the names of the inmates he worked with, and it wasn’t just that he wasn’t supposed to – he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to form an opinion about anyone before he started working with them, he didn’t want any sort of bias to slip in and affect his work.

The mustang program was supposed to be a fresh chance for people, and Steve was there to help them, not to judge them for whatever had landed them in prison in the first place.

Had he been curious about Eddie? Yes, god yes, but deep down he hadn’t really wanted to know about whatever crimes he’d committed. Because he’d look at Eddie sometimes, watch him interact with Ozzy, watch him skirt around the other inmates, watch him flinch away sometimes when Steve tried to show him something, and wonder how the hell he’d wound up where he was. And he found himself hoping it was some sort of misunderstanding, or a collection of minor misdemeanours maybe. Not a string of burglaries and robberies that had ended up with someone being shot.

The pieces weren’t adding up for him, and he remained fixated on it even as he parked up in Robin’s driveway, the engine still running as he sat and stared unblinking out the window.

“Steve?”

Robin’s voice pulled Steve back to the here and now. He shook himself slightly, reaching forward to kill the engine. Robin was frowning, leaning in through the driver’s window.

“You…good?” she asked.

“Yep,” Steve said, wiping a hand across his face. “M’good. Let’s move this couch.”

Robin gave him a funny look, before shrugging and leading him over to where her car was parked, trailer still hitched with the couch on the back. The couch was dark green, swirled with a lighter green pattern in parts, the colours merging together into a sort of pukey hue.

Steve tilted his head and studied it. “That’s…a choice,” he settled on.

Robin punched him lightly on the arm. “Vickie chose it, she said it’d be a good feature piece…” she trailed off, sighing as she watched Steve cringe a little at it. “It’s ugly, isn’t it?”

“…yeah,” Steve chuckled.

Robin groaned dramatically. “I told her, but Vickie really loved it, so if she gets home before we’re done please just pretend you like it.”

He mock-saluted. “Gotcha.”

Between the two of them (mostly Steve, with Robin giving a barrage of directions) they managed to lever the couch off the trailer and up to the front door. Alfonso was sitting in the doorway, the cat meowing loudly at the intrusion and staring up at Steve.

“Alfie, out of the way, boy,” Robin encouraged, trying to shoo the cat. When he didn’t move, Robin dropped her end of the couch, ignoring Steve as he cursed and scrambled to readjust to hold it while she shifted the stubborn cat aside.

By the time they’d manage to contort the ugly bit of furniture through the narrow doorway, Steve was drenched in sweat. He tugged his shirt up over his head, balling it up and tossing it in the direction of his car before heading back inside, where Robin was laying cushions out on the couch.

She screwed her nose up at him, then flapped her hands as he went to slump down atop the cushions. “No, you’re all gross, do not sit there!”

“Where am I s’posed to sit?” Steve complained.

“Just stand, we’ll go out to the porch in a second.”

She finished placing the cushions, stepping back to survey her work. Steve stared at the eyesore now in the centre of the living room.

“Maybe just…cover it with a blanket or something,” he suggested.

“Good idea,” Robin agreed immediately, and returned with a much more neutral-coloured throw to lay over the couch.

They drank home-made lemonade on the back porch overlooking the orchard next door to Robin’s place. Steve had always liked spending time here – Robin’s house was small but cosy, nestled on a little plot of land between the orange and fig trees. It had been too dry this year for a decent crop of fruit, but Steve could see the odd flash of orange amongst the leaves.

Robin was talking. Something about Vickie’s work at the school, and Steve was doing his best to listen, but his mind drifted quickly back to Eddie. Would he be able to treat him the same way on Monday, now knowing some of his history? He’d do his best, but he hoped he didn’t seem different or forced, or that he knew something, because that would surely make Eddie feel awkward, and the last thing he wanted to do was –

“Steve,” Robin snapped him out of his thoughts for the second time that day. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, taking another sip of his lemonade. “You were talking about Vickie.”

Robin quirked an eyebrow. “Lucky guess.”

“…sorry,” Steve said sheepishly. He held his finger out to collect a ladybug crawling across his bare shoulder, guiding it to the porch railing instead. “Was thinkin’.”

“I noticed. Care to share?”

Steve’s eyes wandered to the trees as he considered that for a moment. He really shouldn’t tell Robin what he’d learned about Eddie, but he also knew there wasn’t much he could hide from his best friend. Still, he wouldn’t go into detail, that would be wrong of him. Maybe he could just…

“Is it about Eddie?” Robin guessed.

Steve’s shoulders slumped a little. “Yeah.”

Robin raised her eyebrows in a little ‘told ya so’ motion and slurped at her lemonade, waiting for Steve to speak.

“Do you…do you know anythin’ about him? About why he’s in?”

Robin looked at him for a long moment. “A little. Hard not to, it was all over the news here a few years ago, and I try not to watch too much of it like you but Vickie hears stuff and I mean…the whole town was talking about it, they said he helped to rob a guy at gunpoint.”

It was true then.

Steve nodded. “Mrs Driscoll told me some stuff today.”

Robin snorted. “Not the most reliable source, Steve. Remember when she got you to go over there because she thought there was some kind of biological hazard at her place because she found a bunch of dead rats? And it turns out they’d just -”

“ - gotten into a bag of fertilizer, I know,” Steve finished for her.

Robin reached across, tapping lightly on Steve’s hand. “Why’re so you bothered?” she asked gently. “You know none of them are there for good reasons, why would Eddie be an exception?”

Steve looked down at the porch railing, at Robin’s finger brushing across his. “I know. I dunno what I thought, it’s stupid. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“If it makes you feel any better, most of what I heard was about his dad. Pretty bad guy, by the sounds of it. Maybe Eddie just got caught up in it along the way.”

He watched the ladybug crawl over peeling white paint, winding its way across the railing. “Maybe.”

Steve lingered around Robin’s place for as long as he could that afternoon, helping her water the garden, pick some flowers for the vase in the kitchen, and even let her talk him into leaning across the fence to snatch some oranges from the neighbour’s trees.

“Just leave your shirt off, Mrs Jones’ll be too distracted to care about some petty theft,” Robin hissed to him as she kept a watch on the neighbour’s back door. “Personally, I don’t get the appeal, but knowing her she’ll have her binoculars pressed up against the window, so…”

“You objectifyin’ me, Robs?” Steve huffed as he strained to reach across for the nearest piece of fruit.

She rolled her eyes. “Get me some damn oranges, will you?”

Finally, after helping Robin carry a modest amount of oranges inside and deposit them on the kitchen bench, Steve glanced back towards his car.

When he made no move to head towards it yet, Robin looked up at him. “You wanna stay for dinner?”

Yes.

“Nah, s’ok,” Steve mumbled.

“You sure? Vickie won’t mind, we -”

“I gotta check on Scoops, so…” Steve trailed off. Quit hangin’ around here like a bad smell, they don’t need a third wheel.

“Oh, sure. Thought he was doing fine now, though?”

“He is,” Steve said quickly. “Just…need to make sure. I’ve changed his feed a bit to try and help, I gotta go home and give him that.”

Robin gave him a small smile, sad and knowing. “Ok. Well, if you’re bored later, just call me.”

“Yep.” He nodded, shoved his hair back from his face. “See ya on Monday.”

*****

Scoops was fine. Steve knew that, Robin knew that, but still there Steve was, stroking the horse’s nose and watching him munch his hay quietly. The sun was low in the sky now, evening starting to set in.

Steve was lonely.

The house was behind him, quiet and empty. He’d hook his music up to the speaker when he went inside, just so that there was something other than the sound of his own breathing, but it would only help a little. He thought about Robin, no doubt enjoying her dinner with Vickie right about now, the two of them talking a mile a minute and laughing together.

Steve would eat his dinner alone, if he even bothered with it at all.

For a brief moment, he considered texting someone. Linda or Heidi maybe – they were still in town as far as he knew, and while the last time he’d seen either of them it had been in a drunken haze a few months after Nancy had walked out, he thought at least one of them might still be interested.

Even if it was only for tonight. Just so maybe he’d wake up to someone in the morning, even if they wouldn’t stay long, at least it’d be something…

But the idea turned sour before he could even reach into his pocket for his phone. He wasn’t in the mood, it wasn’t the right time, and he knew he’d only come across as desperate, even if either of them were happy to oblige him.

Instead, he patted Scoops and thought about Eddie for about the twentieth time that day, without really even meaning to. Finally the light from the sun faded and he wandered slowly back to the house.

On autopilot, he’d pulled out the half-empty bottle of Jack and was mid-way through pouring himself a glass when his phone vibrated against his thigh. Placing the bottle back down, he pulled his cell from his pocket to read the message.

Dustin

2048 – Ready for tomorrow 😊

Attached was a picture of Dustin with his thumb up, holding up a bag of apples in his other hand.

Steve smiled, typing out a reply.

2050 – looking foward to seeing you buddy

Thank fuck for those kids, Steve thought. At least tomorrow the place would have some noise and life again, and he could forget about everything else for a while.

He looked back to his glass.

His phone vibrated on the bench, no doubt an incoming reply from Dustin.

Steve tipped the contents of the glass back into the bottle, and quietly put it away for another day.

Chapter Text

“And this is the rear cinch, we don’t do it up too tight – if you do, your horse’ll let ya know just what they think of that,” Steve was explaining to the group of inmates.

He’d brought Cherry along to work that Monday, not wanting to put any stress on Scoops just yet. He was demonstrating how to saddle her, running the group through the different parts of the tack, how to tie a latigo, what the purpose of everything was. The inmates were listening with varying degrees of interest, but Steve wasn’t bothered – if any of them messed up due to not paying attention, it was their own fault after all.

He had Eddie’s attention, at least. Standing on the outskirts of the group as usual, he was intently focused on what Steve was showing them.

“Who wants to have a turn saddlin’ Cherry?” Steve asked once he’d hoisted the saddle off her back.

Silence filled the space, and Steve shrugged.

“Well, she’ll be far more forgivin’ than any of your horses will be, just bear that in mind.”

Finally, Eddie spoke up. “I’ll try,” he said quietly.

Steve swallowed, nodding and beckoning him forward.

Just be normal, nothing’s changed, it’s just Eddie.

“Right, so you’re gonna put that on her first,” Steve said, handing him a plain saddle pad.

Eddie did, carefully placing it down on her back, then turning to Steve with those big eyes.

“Like that?”

“Yeah. Now the saddle, it’s heavy so watch out.”

Steve passed it over to Eddie’s waiting arms, the man leaning forward and stumbling a step under the weight of the saddle.

“Fucking hell,” Eddie grunted. “You made it look light.”

Steve shrugged, then patted Cherry atop the saddle pad. “Swing it up there, Munson.”

The sleeves of Eddie’s jumpsuit were rolled back, lean muscle tensing in his arms as he hoisted the saddle up and over Cherry’s back as best he could. And Steve didn’t mean to stare, didn’t mean for his tongue to dart out and wet his lips as he watched the man cautiously untuck the fenders and reach for the cinch.

He couldn’t help it.

Eddie blinked down at the leather strap in his hand. “Where does this go, again?”

An amused snort came from the group of inmates. Steve clenched his jaw briefly, then stepped closer to Eddie.

“Here, ya see that ring there?” Steve tapped an index finger against it. “Thread the strap through, then tie it like I showed ya.”

Eddie did so, moving quietly and calmly around Cherry.

Steve watched, wondering how this was the same man that had apparently been all over the news for a violent crime, how he’d been involved in such a string of offenses and tied up with drugs and –

“How do I do the last bit?” Eddie glanced over at him, still holding the latigo in hand, only half done up.

“Oh, here,” Steve leant over, slowly demonstrating how to finish off the knot then tuck the remaining length of leather away to keep everything tidy. Standing like this with their backs to the rest of the group, Steve suddenly realized how damn close they were to each other. He could feel Eddie’s warm breath tickle the side of his neck, could fucking smell the guy, a mix of sweat and cigarette smoke that had no business being remotely attractive but dammit it was.

“Thanks for letting me practice, Cherry,” Eddie murmured, stroking the mare’s neck.

Fuck, why’d he have to be sweet?

Steve looked away from the buckle he was bent over, glanced up at Eddie instead and fuck that was a mistake.

Eddie was looking right at him, those intense wide eyes locked on his.

There was a beat, and then another.

Steve’s eyes drifted down to Eddie’s lips, (a little chapped, but somehow still soft, Steve noted) then back up again.

Tension hung thick in the air, like the heaviness before a storm, the electricity before it sparked into life.

“Annnnnd then you wanna make sure to slip a few fingers under the cinch, make sure it’s not too tight, right Steve?”

Robin. Thank fuck for Robin.

“Right,” he nodded, stepping back a little, the moment passing as soon as the space opened up between them.

Relief flooded Steve, but it was tinged with a lingering sense of disappointment. There was something that had been left unfinished there, and he saw it every time his eyes drifted back to Eddie.

Several other inmates had a turn at saddling Cherry after that. None were as careful or as attentive as Eddie had been, but still they put in some effort and listened to Steve’s instructions. They moved on to getting the mustangs accustomed to the saddle pads, some managing to get them laid out over the horses’ backs before lunch time.

While Hopper was handing out the lunches, Robin took Steve by his sleeve and tugged him aside.

“What was that earlier?” she hissed.

“What?” Steve tried to feign innocence, knowing damn well what Robin was referring to.

“Get it together, dingus, quit flirting with Munson.”

Steve kept quiet, not even trying to defend it - he had nothing, no excuse to fire back at Robin this time.

“I’ll take over his stuff this afternoon, alright?” Robin said with a sigh. “You just…just focus on work, ok?”

He nodded despite the reluctance building in him - he knew how Eddie operated at this point, he knew when to push, when to praise, when to just wait and let him figure something out on his own. They worked well together, and it would be jarring for Eddie to have someone else just suddenly take over his coaching…

But Robin was right, and it was for the best.

So that afternoon he took a step back from Eddie. Ignored the occasional confused looks the man threw his way, focused on other inmates, poured all his effort into getting them up to scratch with saddling. Out of the corner of his eye, he quietly watched Robin working with Eddie, and forcibly squashed down that pull in his gut to be over there with him. He knew his best friend would be patient and kind, he knew she damn good at her job – Eddie was in good hands.

Just not his hands.

The remainder of the week passed in a similar way. Steve was polite towards Eddie, but never approached him first, keeping a strict professional distance and letting Robin take the lead with overseeing his progress.

Steve hated it. He saw the way Eddie started to shrink back into himself, how he became even quieter than he’d been to begin with, how his eyes would follow Steve wherever he went but immediately look down to the ground whenever Steve glanced his way. He knew it must be confusing to suddenly be basically ignored like this, but it was necessary, because Steve had been close to doing something colossally stupid while saddling Cherry.

Something like kissing the guy, which would’ve been a one-way ticket to unemployment.

This way, he could just get through the rest of this program. Eddie would pass with Robin’s help, and then he’d never see him again, and everything would go back to normal.

Right?

The following week was one of their busiest, as it always was. They were teaching the inmates the basics of riding – just mounting and dismounting and walking at this stage, but they’d quickly move on to more advanced lessons in preparation for working the mustangs under saddle. The first few rides on those horses would be done by Steve and Robin and some other employees for safety reasons, but a lot of the ridden work after that would be up to the inmates.

Around mid-morning on the first riding day, Robin stepped up next to Steve where he was overseeing Hargrove mounting up on Blue. Steve had brought several of his own horses along for the group to learn to ride on safely.

“Can you go help Munson?” Robin asked him quietly.

Steve frowned, shooting her a look as he steadied the stirrup for Hargrove to shove his boot into.

“He’s…he’s really nervous,” Robin whispered. “Sorry, I know I’m meant to be working with him, but I can’t get him to -”

“S’fine,” Steve waved her off. “Take over here, I’ll go talk to him.”

He handed Blue’s reins to Robin and made his way over to where Eddie was standing at the far end of the round pen, on his own as always, running his hand over Scoop’s neck.

“Hey Munson,” Steve greeted him, his voice coming out too forced to be natural. “Robin told me you’re a bit worried ‘bout gettin’ up there, that right?”

Eddie turned to him, held his gaze for a long moment. “Something like that.”

“Well, Scoops is the best choice, he’s not gonna do anything excitin’, don’t worry ‘bout that.”

“What if I fall off?” Eddie said, fingers tangling lightly in the horse’s mane.

“Well, that’s what this is for.” Steve reached out and flicked a finger against Eddie’s helmeted head.

So much for professionalism.

He swiftly let his hand drop back to his side when he saw Eddie’s face pale a little further. “Look, you’ll be fine. I’ll stay with ya, alright?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Will you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here the whole time.”

Eddie mumbled something under his breath as he stepped up next to Scoops, eyeing the stirrup as if it had purposely offended him before turning back to Steve. “Did I…do something? Like, something wrong?”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “No. What’s got you thinkin’ that?”

“Just, you’ve barely said a word to me in a week. And I know it’s stupid of me to even notice, you’re not, like…obliged to talk to me, not sure why you’d bother actually, but…you used to.”

Steve’s fingers twitched against his palm. When he spoke, he kept his voice low. “I…I’m sorry, s’just, people were startin’ to notice, and it could be seen as like, a favouritism thing, which obviously isn’t allowed here…” Steve trailed off as a small smirk began to spread across Eddie’s face.

“I’m your favourite, huh?”

“Just get on the damn horse, will ya?” Steve grumbled, his cheeks colouring slightly.

Eddie’s smirk lingered for a little longer – until he put his foot in the stirrup, and then it faded.

“Ok, now just swing yourself up, put your hand on the horn…no, the other hand, there ya go,” Steve encouraged, but Eddie still had one foot firmly planted on the ground.

“He’s big,” Eddie pointed out.

“Naw, not really. I promise you’ll feel better once you’re up there.”

Eddie paused for a moment longer like that, before his body posture slumped and he took his foot out of the stirrup. Frustrated, he tossed the reins towards Steve, the leather slapping him in the chest.

“Look, this isn’t for me, man,” Eddie ground out, turning to leave.

“Hey, hold up,” Steve stepped out into his path, cutting off Eddie’s escape. “Talk to me. What’s worryin’ you about it, specifically?”

Eddie sniffed and shrugged. “I dunno. Just…that I’ll fall, I guess. Or…one of the others will do something, like what happened with Hagan and Ozzy, and -”

“They won’t,” Steve said firmly. “They’re all the way over there, and Hagan’s next up with Robin, he’s gonna be too busy to worry about you. As for fallin’…I can never guarantee you won’t, but it’s unlikely. Scoops is an old fella, and I trust him with my life. He won’t do anythin’ bad, I can promise you that.”

Eddie thought for a moment, no doubt weighing up his options in his head, of which there weren’t many. Finally, he turned back to Scoops, placing his foot back in the stirrup. He bounced a couple of times, then hauled himself up a little too enthusiastically, almost throwing himself off the other side of the saddle as he swung his leg over.

Luckily, Steve was there. He reached out, hand finding Eddie’s thigh and stopping his momentum, letting him ease down into the saddle. Once he was balanced, Steve removed his hand, cheeks burning at the fact that he’d just grabbed the guy’s thigh.

Eddie’s own face was tinged slightly pink, but it could have been flushed from nerves judging by the way he had the saddle horn in a death grip.

“You alright?” Steve asked him.

“No,” Eddie replied, the word coming out in a rush followed by an awkward laugh.

“Just take your time, try to relax. We don’t have to move ‘till you’re ready.”

Steve waited, leaning back against the fence, one hand on the closest of Scoop’s reins. Eddie shuffled about a little, trying to get used to sitting in the saddle, but didn’t ease up his grip on the horn. The silence stretched on between them, something Steve was normally ok with at work, but he could tell Eddie was uncomfortable.

So, he started to talk.

“Scoops is the horse that was sick a little while back, remember me tellin’ you? He had colic, he gets it sometimes. He had me worried there for a bit though, ‘specially now that he’s gettin’ older. He’s a damn good horse, ya know? You got the pick of the bunch for your first ride, for sure.”

“He’s ok now though, right?” Eddie asked. “He’s not…in pain or anything?”

“He’s fine. Look at his face, he’s damn near asleep.”

Eddie leant to the side ever so slightly, smiling when he saw how the horse’s eyes had drifted shut.

“See his bottom lip, it’s all relaxed? And his ears, they’re not pinned back or anythin’, and they ain’t stickin’ straight forward either, he’s just chilling. You’re safe up there.”

As Steve spoke, he noticed Eddie start to relax a bit, loosening his white-knuckle grip on the horn a little and adjusting his feet in the stirrups. After a few more minutes, Steve pushed himself off the fence.

“Wanna try a few steps?” he suggested.

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.

“That’s fine,” Steve told him quickly. “Just sit there a little longer, then.” He turned to look over at Robin, checking to see how she was getting on. They had a few extra staff members on at the moment since it was a busy week – Gareth and Jeff were standing with Cherry and a few other inmates, helping someone up into the saddle. Robin was doing her best to instruct Hagan on how to mount Blue, but he didn’t look he was paying her a scrap of attention. Steve rolled his eyes, feeling a little smug when he noticed an irritated-looking Hopper striding over to assist Robin.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie said.

“Mmm?” Steve turned back to face him.

“I think…I think I’m ready to take a few steps. Just…slow.”

Steve smiled. “Alright. I’ll walk next to ya, just squeeze your feet against his sides a little, and hold your reins.”

Eddie did, and Scoops stepped out obediently. He clutched the horn again as they moved, his face sheet-white, but he was able to do a lap of the round pen with Steve walking beside them.

“Looking good, Munson,” Robin waved to him as they passed her.

He managed a tight smile in her direction.

Steve looked over to where Robin had managed to get Hagan up on Blue, anger coiling in his gut as he watched the gruff way the inmate was handling the horse. He was tugging at the reins, sitting heavy in the saddle, kicking his heels into Blue’s sides despite Robin’s instructions to do otherwise. Steve’s horses were responsive and well behaved, Blue only needed minimal encouragement to get going. He understood many of these men had never been on a horse before and most weren’t used to treating things gently, but if he caught Hagan digging his heels in like that again then he wouldn’t be getting back on one of Steve’s horses.

Eddie was the complete contrast. Soft where Hagan was harsh, all gentle murmurs where Hagan protested loudly at every move Blue made, quiet hands compared to the loudness and roughness of Hagan’s.

Once they completed another lap, Eddie reached down and stroked Scoops’ neck.

“S’not so bad, huh?” Steve commented.

“No,” Eddie agreed with a smile. “It’s kinda nice. It’s kinda…freeing.”

Steve nodded, thinking back to the first time he’d sat on a horse as a young boy at his grandparents’ ranch. He remembered the initial fear giving way to exhilaration when he realized how he could borrow the strength and speed of the creature under him, even if only for a short time. He recalled quickly learning about how it was a two-way street, that he had to give in order to receive the horse’s cooperation; a stark contrast to the expensive vehicles his father travelled in, driving like he owned the road, the deadness of the motor thrumming in a younger Steve’s teeth.

Horses were so alive, and it thrilled him even to this day.

“Sorry, that probably sounded stupid,” Eddie mumbled when Steve didn’t reply immediately.

“No, it ain’t stupid,” Steve assured him. “I get it, I do.”

“Reckon I’m ready for the big leagues, huh?” Eddie gestured over to Ozzy watching from the paddock, a grin on his face.

Steve chuckled. “Not yet, hot shot.”

“One day, huh?”

“One day. For now, let’s get you down, there’s a few more guys to get through.”

*****

“Can I have a mustang?”

Steve sighed. He’d had this conversation with Dustin so many times now that he’d lost count. The kid had arrived early that Sunday to go for a ride with Steve before the others turned up, and they’d set out across Mrs Driscoll’s empty paddocks on Cherry and Butterscotch.

“Dustin, we’ve talked about this buddy.”

“I know, but I think I’m ready.”

“Where would you keep it?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer.

Dustin blinked at him a few times, looking at Steve as though he were stupid. Steve had never quite worked out how a thirteen-year-old could give him such a withering look, but Dustin had mastered it a long time ago.

“Here. With your horses.”

“Riiiight,” Steve drawled. “So, when you’re not here which is…six days of the week, I gotta feed it, rug it if needed, check it every damn day to make sure it’s well -”

“I’d come over more often!” Dustin cut in. “Mom could drop me off after school. I’d do all the work, I promise!”

“Dustin…” Steve’s tone softened a little. “Who’s gonna pay for it?”

Dustin’s face fell. Steve knew it was a low blow, but he was trying to be realistic. Horses were damn expensive, and Dustin’s mom could barely make ends meet as it was, working long hours as a nurse at the nearest hospital.

“I can save up,” Dustin tried. “Pocket money, and money from birthdays and stuff…”

So maybe in ten years.

Steve kept the thought to himself, but his silence was answer enough for Dustin. The boy’s shoulders slumped, his fingers curling in Cherry’s mane.

Steve cursed himself inwardly. He hated letting the kid down.

“Look, how ‘bout we try somethin’ else?” he decided, watching Dustin’s face light up with hope. “I’ll have to check with your mom first, but why don’t you come around in the evenings sometimes and help me out with my horses? You can do the work – feedin’ out, muckin’ out, brushing, checking feet, making sure the troughs are workin’…and if you’re happy doin’ all that, then maybe we can look into somethin’ in the future.”

Something, Steve knew, would mean finding a cheap mustang that was still suitable for a kid, something that would be easy care and fit in well with his own horses. Not the easiest feat.

But the look on Dustin’s face made the idea worth it.

The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I promise I’ll do whatever work you want, I won’t complain, I can come over after five most days, well as soon as mom’s home from work anyway…”

Steve smiled as he listened, knowing the kid would absolutely complain at times because that was just Dustin, but he didn’t mind. If he was really prepared to put the work in, then Steve would give him a chance.

It’d be nice to have someone around more, anyway. Even if it was just the kid who’d been worming his way into Steve’s heart for nearly a year now.

Dustin urged Cherry into a quick trot, striking out ahead of Steve.

“Hey, not too fast!” Steve yelled after him.

“Keep up, old man!” Dustin laughed back at him. “What, you afraid of falling?”

Steve rolled his eyes, touching his heels to Butterscotch’s sides and loping off after the boy.

Chapter Text

Steve grunted with effort, every muscle straining with the exertion of staying on the damn mustang.

They were partway through breaking in the inmates’ horses, and while Steve far preferred the quieter approach, the calmer one where he could desensitize the horses as much as possible and take everything slowly, they were unfortunately on a deadline.

And sometimes, they moved just a little too fast for a horse’s liking.

Hence, Hagan’s big bay gelding was currently doing his utmost to hurl Steve across the round pen, pig-rooting and bucking beneath him. Steve moved with the horse, his thighs in an iron grip on the saddle, his hands firm but not tugging on the reins. He let the gelding move, kept as quiet as he could in the saddle, and quite literally rode it out.

Finally, the horse slowed under him, coming to a halt, sides heaving as he sucked in air.

Steve kept still, apart from his thumb which was rubbing soothing circles on the horse’s withers.

He wasn’t surprised it was Hagan’s gelding that was the first to react so explosively to Steve getting on him. Whether the horse was simply mirroring his inmate’s demeanour, or Hagan had slacked on the desensitizing (Steve suspected the latter), it was no great shock to Steve.

For the sake of his aching muscles, he was glad the others had been easier so far.

“You alright now, boy?” Steve murmured down at the horse.

“Steve, you ok in there?” Robin called from outside the pen, where she was helping an inmate saddle up the next horse.

“Fine,” Steve reassured her. “He’ll settle.”

He did, after a bit of time. Steve stayed patient while the horse slowly adjusted to carrying his weight. Finally, when the horse had stood calmly for several minutes, Steve gently swung his leg over the saddle and slipped to the ground. The gelding scuttled a little at the movement, snorting, but Steve talked softly to him until he relaxed again.

“Hagan, you needa do more work with him,” Steve instructed after he’d left the round pen. “Lots of saddlin’, and a hell of a lot more desensitizing. If you work at that, he’ll get there.”

Steve leant back against the fence next to Robin with a tired sigh, stretching out his shoulders. Robin gave him a sympathetic wince as his spine cracked with the movement.

“Doing ok?” she asked.

Steve exhaled heavily. “Yeah. A lot more to go, huh?” he tipped his head towards the paddock, where the remaining mustangs were waiting, and unbuckled the strap on his helmet. He didn’t usually wear one to ride, but when doing something as dangerous as breaking in mustangs, he chose not to put himself at any undue risk of more head trauma. Robin had given him that lecture over and over when she’d first found out about his old head injury, and slapped a helmet on his head during this part of the program until he’d gotten the message.

“Gareth and Jeff are taking the next couple, so you can have a break. I’ll take Red after that.”

Steve eyed the mentioned chestnut mare currently kicking her heels up in the paddock. Hargrove’s mare was a little calmer than Ozzy, but not by a whole lot.

“Robs -”

“No,” Robin cut him off. “Don’t give me some macho bullshit, please, not you. You know I’ll be fine, you don’t have to take all the difficult ones.”

Steve tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Alright, but I’ve got Ozzy.”

Because that wasn’t up for discussion. Eddie had already told Steve he was nervous about this part, that he didn’t like watching the other mustangs being broken in, even if most were far less dramatic about the whole thing than Hagan’s gelding had been.

“Just…I don’t want her to be scared,” Eddie had told him quietly, nervously.

“She’ll be fine,” Steve had tried to promise him.

“Can it be you? I…I know you’ll be careful with her.” Eddie’s face had been open, vulnerable, his fingers twisting in the slightly too long sleeves of his jumpsuit.

So of course, Steve had said yes, he’d promised him.

And then, he’d pulled himself away from Eddie, slipped out of his orbit and thrown all his energy into staying on the mustangs.

They wouldn’t be getting to Ozzy today, he realized as the afternoon stretched on. He watched Robin work with Red, staying on as the mare galloped and lurched a few laps before slowing. The horse had fire, but Robin had plenty to match it.

Hargrove watched closely, leaning over the round pen fence, his posture starting to relax as his mare’s did. Steve’s heart started to slow as Gareth helped to lead the mare a few steps. As accomplished of a rider Robin was, Steve would worry about her every time she did this - he couldn’t help it, his heart leaping into his throat every time a horse bucked under her. He noticed a couple of raised eyebrows amongst the watching inmates, a few nods of approval as Robin quietened the mare.

Steve knew while this job could be tough, it was often far tougher for Robin. On top of everything else, she had to somehow gain the cooperation of a group of men that had often lacked any sort of respect for the women in their lives. Not all were that way, but many were, and Steve had spent plenty of hours in the early days of Robin’s employment comforting her through frustrated tears at the end of a work day.

But Robin had a fierce determination beneath everything she did; something Steve loved about her. The inmates quickly learned she wasn’t to be trifled with, and once they saw her aptitude with the horses, they were generally quite happy to take advice from her.

The group, including Steve, were so focused on what was happening in the round pen, that it took a while for anyone to notice there were several people missing from the onlookers.

Steve’s eyes traced over the group eventually, and only then realized Eddie wasn’t standing with them. Taking a piss maybe, Steve decided, and wasn’t too worried until he saw that Hagan and a few of his buddies were also absent.

Immediately, he sought them out. There was no one by the prison bus except for Dmitri having a smoke on the step, and he waved a hand in greeting as Steve passed him.

“Seen Hagan?” Steve asked him.

Dmitri gestured to the toilet block. “Been over there a while. Jim’s just gone for a look.”

Steve nodded, quickening his pace in the direction Dmitri had indicated.

And then the yelling started.

Steve broke into a run.

He could hear Hopper bellowing, another voice swearing, the crack of a fist colliding with something. Dmitri was quickly hot on Steve’s heels, the two of them rounding the corner of the toilet block and diving into the fray they encountered.

Eddie was on the ground, blood pouring from his nose, arms curled protectively over his head. Hopper was dragging away a struggling Hagan, Dmitri leaping in to separate Hagan’s two buddies from Eddie, one of them managing to get a final kick in to the man’s side before they backed off.

Steve dove towards Eddie, falling to his knees at his side, hands hovering above him. He’d taken an elbow to the face getting there, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Eddie, y’ok?” he murmured, all formalities going out the window.

Eddie sat up, bracing himself against Steve momentarily before pressing his sleeve to his bleeding nose.

“Fine,” he mumbled.

Steve reached gingerly for his side, fingers tracing lightly over his jumpsuit. “They kicked ya pretty good, your ribs hurt?”

“They’re fine,” Eddie muttered again, looking down at his lap. “Your face, you got hit…”

“Yeah, but not bad,” Steve reassured him. It had only been a glancing blow, an accidental strike from a flailing limb, it would barely bruise.

Suddenly, as if realizing half his body was pressed up against Steve’s, Eddie shoved away from him.

“Eddie…” Steve started, but Eddie shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was slightly muffled by his swelling nose, vowels slurring together wetly. “Happens a lot.”

“It does matter,” Steve argued. “They can’t just do that shit, it’s assault. Hagan’ll be out of the program now, along with the others. I’ll kick them out myself.”

Eddie shrugged. “Do what you want, man.”

A long moment passed, Eddie looking defiantly up at Steve now, blood dribbling between his fingers where he was holding his nose.

“Can you stand?” Steve asked eventually. He saw Dmitri approaching them, having apparently dealt with Hagan’s buddies.

Eddie nodded, but Steve held out a hand anyway. A small part of him rejoiced when Eddie actually accepted it, allowing Steve to help him to his feet, standing on slightly trembling legs.

“Munson, come wait by the bus, the prison doctor’s coming out to check you over,” Dmitri told him, handing him a clean cloth. “Hold that on your nose in the mean time.”

Steve trailed behind Eddie as he made his way slowly to the bus. Hagan and the other two were seated at the back of the bus, Hopper with them, radio to his mouth as he talked into it with a face like thunder.

Eddie sat himself down in the door to the bus, sinking onto the step with a sigh.

Steve hung around for a moment, fiddling with his hat in his hands, unsure how to proceed. Robin was looking over towards them from the round pen, concerned, so Steve threw her a thumbs up. Not that everything was fine, but it was under control at the moment.

“You can go,” Eddie said eventually. He wiped the cloth across his nose, frowned as it came away still wet with blood. “I’m fine.”

“Pinch it, at the top,” Steve said, fingers still playing over the brim of his hat. “Up here.” He demonstrated on his own nose, pressing it with his finger and thumb.

Eddie did, wincing a little at the pressure.

“I’ve had quite a few bleedin’ noses before,” Steve continued, more for something to say than anything else. He should get back to the round pen, he knew, but all he wanted to do right now was sit next to Eddie, wrap an arm around him and make sure he was ok. “Been thrown off quite a few horses before, ya see. Actually broke it one time, I was -”

“Thanks Steve,” Eddie interrupted hoarsely. “But I’m good.”

Steve nodded, cheeks flushing a little. “Right. Gotcha. Well, I’ll…leave you to it then.”

He planted his hat back on his head and beelined it back to the round pen, leaving a bloody and bruised Eddie behind him.

*****

That evening, a very eager Dustin was on Steve’s doorstep when he pulled into the driveway after work.

“Hey buddy,” Steve greeted him, stepping out of the car. “Sorry, hope you ain’t been waitin’ too long.”

“Nah, mom dropped me off ten minutes ago. Where do you want me to start?”

Steve smiled, gesturing towards the barn. “The horses need hay, if you want to start draggin’ some bales over to the fence. Give me a minute to get changed, and I’ll come join ya.”

Dustin frowned a little. “Yeah, you’ve got blood on your sleeve.”

Steve looked down, saw the dark red stain dried on his cuff. There wasn’t much, but it was Eddie’s, and the thought had his insides crawling a little.

Once inside, he stripped the shirt off quickly and changed into a soft white tee instead, throwing the shirt with a little too much force towards the washing machine on his way out.

Dustin stayed true to his earlier word and did everything Steve asked of him without complaint.

He lugged the hay bales around, tossed out slices of hay, followed Steve around while he showed him how to check the horses, mixed up some feed for Scoops, (the older horse needed more calories than the younger ones) checked the water troughs, and managed to get a little bit of mucking out done before it was getting dark.

“What time’s your mom gettin’ you?” Steve asked him as they made their way back towards the house.

“Just whenever I ring to say we’re finished,” Dustin told him.

“Right.” Steve stepped up to the back door, kicking his boots against the step to shake any dirt loose. He paused at the door, mentally running through the contents of his pantry and fridge. There wasn’t much – Steve had been planning to just crawl into bed after a long shower, his body aching and tired after a long day of breaking in the mustangs. Dinner would have been a bit of toast eaten alone in his empty lounge, if anything.

Right now, the thought of another scraped-together dinner on his own was too fucking hard to face.

He glanced back at Dustin. He was pretty sure he could rustle up a packet of pasta and some sauce from the pantry.

“You wanna stay for dinner?” he offered, trying not to sound too damn hopeful, too desperate for the company of a teenager who probably had better shit to do than -

Dustin grinned. “Sure.”

For the first time in a long time, Steve cooked.

It wasn’t much – just boiling some water for the pasta and heating up the tin of sauce – but it was a hell of a lot more than anything he’d done recently. While he worked away, Dustin chattered about school, about the other kids, about the horses. Steve nodded along, enjoying the kid’s presence, even if he was swinging his heels against the cupboards where he was perched up on the counter.

“Max keeps asking me to ask you about Billy,” Dustin let slip eventually. “But I told her you’re not meant to talk about the guys you work with.”

Steve’s hand paused mid-stir. “What about Billy?”

“Well, she’s worried about him. Said it wasn’t his fault, what happened. That he was just protecting her, and he shouldn’t be in jail for it.”

Steve frowned. “Well, you’re right, I can’t really talk about him. I mean, you can tell her he seems to be ok, that he’s doin’ pretty well with his horse, he’s named her Red. That’s probably all I can say.”

Dustin nodded. “I’ll message her,” he said, tapping away on his phone.

“Why doesn’t Max just ask me herself?”

Dustin rolled his eyes a little. “You know her, she’s…funny about that stuff. And she’s kinda shy around you, anyway. I think she has a crush on you.”

Steve snorted. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, that’s what Mike told me.”

“Oh, you believe everything Mike says?”

“Well…no. But she’s not shy around any of us, not even Lucas and everyone knows there’s something going on there…but she gets all blushy and weird around you. It’s kinda gross.”

Steve laughed. “Maybe you won’t think that when someone’s got a crush on you, bud.”

Dustin sighed, his face falling a little. “Well, there’s this girl at school.”

“Oh?” Steve raised an eyebrow, turning the sauce down to simmer.

“Yeah. Her name’s Suzie. She’s the smartest girl in school, she’s like…a genius, and I was actually going to ask your advice…”

*****

It was after midnight, and Steve couldn’t sleep.

He’d waved Dustin off around 8pm, showered, and then promptly crashed into bed. He had to be up at 6am, but sleep was still evading him.

He kept thinking of Eddie. He hoped he was safe in his cell, hoped his face and his ribs weren’t too sore. Hoped to hell he’d be back tomorrow.

For lack of anything better to do, he picked up his phone. There were zero notifications, but he scrolled back through his earlier conversation with Robin.

2003 – How did it go with the little shrimp?

2005 – good. he helped a lot and didnt even complain

2006 – That’s a miracle.

2008 – i know. was nice to have him around

There’d been a small gap where he’d almost sent a message several times, deleting it before sending it before finally just typing it out again. The question wouldn’t leave his mind otherwise.

2023 – do you think eddies ok

2025 – Doc said he was, right?

2026 – right. but do you think hell be back tomorrow?

2027 – We should be breaking in Ozzy tomorrow, I don’t think he’ll want to miss that.

2029 – yeah your probably right

2032 – I always am, dingus. Now go to sleep.

2033 – night robs

2034 – Goodnight, Stevie.

He put his phone back on his bedside table with a thunk, and resigned himself to another sleepless night.

*****

Eddie did show up the next day.

He was even more withdrawn than usual, keeping his head down, bruising having spread from his nose up to his eyes, dark rings forming around them.

But at least he was there.

Hagan and his two cronies were absent, and Hopper informed Steve they wouldn’t be back, much to Steve’s delight.

It did, however, leave him with three mustangs with no one to work with them.

Extra work for him and Robin, he supposed.

But this morning, he needed to focus on Ozzy.

She was the last of the mustangs to be broken in, Steve wanting to set aside extra time for what he knew was going to be a difficult task. He’d spent quite some time over the last week saddling her and working her in the round pen without a rider, hoping that the extra attention would pay off today.

“Munson, can you catch her?” Steve had asked him, sending the man off towards the paddock to collect his horse.

Eddie was sullen and moody, but he did as he was asked. Under Steve’s instruction, he tied her up, brushed her, and saddled her as he’d been taught.

While he still moved quietly and made sure to swing the saddle over her back gently, Steve noticed that the man was…different. He didn’t murmur away to Ozzy like he normally did, he didn’t spend long moments stroking her nose, he didn’t flash those shy smiles at Steve whenever he did something correctly.

Maybe he’s just sore, Steve decided. After all, the guy had been assaulted pretty viciously by three men just yesterday, it was bound to have had an impact on his mood. Steve would try to talk to him later, when they got a quiet moment.

Ozzy was anxious today, more so than usual.

No doubt she was picking up on Eddie’s mood, Steve thought as he approached them.

“Ok, you can hop on out and watch,” Steve told the man, taking the reins from him.

Eddie lingered, one hand still on the reins, as if reluctant to hand them over to Steve.

“You’ll be careful? With her, I mean.” Eddie asked. His words were slow, quiet, as if it hurt him to speak.

It probably did.

“Yeah. Promise.” Steve told him, and Eddie relinquished his grip on the reins with a nod.

Once Eddie was safely outside the round pen fence, Steve took a slow breath in and gathered himself.

Ozzy’s nostrils were flared, her head held high, one wide eye trained back on Steve.

The inmates had fallen quiet, leaning on the fence to watch closely.

Robin was hovering by the gate, worry evident on her face.

Steve checked the strap of his helmet, and stretched his leg up to place one foot in the stirrup.

“Take it easy, girl,” he murmured to the horse. “You’re alright, now.”

As slowly as he could, he pulled himself up into the saddle, pausing to gauge Ozzy’s reaction before settling his weight down.

Ozzy exploded.

Steve barely had time to sink into the saddle before his teeth slammed together as the horse jolted under him, blood filling his mouth as he bit into his lip at the impact.

Ozzy careened across the round pen, eight hundred pounds of raw terror. Her nose brushed the dirt as she slammed her head down and threw her heels up, Steve gripping the horn tight with one hand and doing his best to keep hold of the reins with the other.

Thank fuck for his helmet, because he had an idea how this was going to end.

Ozzy wouldn’t let up. Steve was tossed left and right, backwards and forwards, gritting his teeth together and clawing to stay on.

He did his best to keep his lower legs off her, not wanting to brush against her belly and startle her further, but it made it damn difficult to grip on.

He pulled back a little on the reins out of instinct, but Ozzy set her teeth against the bit and yanked back, whirling around several laps of the arena and lurching underneath him.

Where Hagan’s gelding had been difficult, this was like trying to ride a tornado.

Eddie was standing on the fence, leaning over the top of it with his feet on the bottom rail.

As if sensing him, Ozzy shot towards him and slammed to a halt near him.

Shaking with effort, Steve sucked in oxygen, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath.

“Easy, settle down, you’re ok,” Steve said quietly, a slight tremor to his voice.

“Steve, get down.” Robin’s voice was as calm as she could make it, not wanting to set the mare off again, but Steve heard the worry in her tone.

“I will, just gimme a second, she’s quietenin’ down,” Steve replied, not taking his eyes off the horse.

Painfully slowly, he took one foot out of the stirrup. Ozzy was breathing hard, tossing her head, but she kept still for now.

Steve kicked his leg up behind him, and prepared to slide down to the ground.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Eddie reach out a cautious hand to the mare through the fence, heard him talking quietly.

He had a moment to realize Eddie was moving too fast.

And then all hell broke loose for a second time.

Ozzy threw herself sideways. Steve found himself pinned between the horse and the fence, and panic flashed through him a moment before the pain followed.

Steve cried out as his leg crunched against the railing with an audible snap. In a blur, he saw Robin and Gareth scaling the fence and running for him, caution out the window now in favour of just getting to Steve.

Tears mingling with the blood on his chin, Steve managed to get one foot on the ground and dragged his mangled leg away from the stirrup, pain stealing his breath and making his head swim.

“Steve!”

He could hear Robin yelling, saw several of the inmates leaning over the fence and shoving at Ozzy, trying to move her away from the fence and get Steve some much-needed space.

When Ozzy finally skittled away, Gareth with two hands on her bridle, Steve slumped back against the fence, breathing harshly.

He would’ve collapsed into the dirt before Robin reached him, if a familiar arm hadn’t reached through the fence and curled itself securely around his middle.

Chapter Text

Steve forgot a lot about what happened next, the events of the day swirling together in a painful blur.

What he did remember was Eddie holding him up, helping him keep his feet, letting him brace his weight on him to keep it off his bad leg.

He remembered Robin holding his hand, rambling a mile a minute as she panicked at the sight of his unnaturally-bent lower leg.

He recalled Gareth leading Ozzy away, the horse whirling around at the end of the lead rope.

After that, everything was a bit of a haze. Steve had tried to keep his head while his leg was on fire, pain lancing up it at any small movement he made. Eddie had climbed the fence at some stage, was there with an arm wrapped around his waist, him and Robin helping him hobble out of the round pen.

Hopper had met them at the gate, radioing for an ambulance and directing Steve to sit down on a bench and wait.

Without hesitation, Eddie and Robin had taken up posts beside him.

“You know, it’s not actually that bad,” Robin had blurted, still squeezing his hand. Steve wasn’t sure if it was more for his benefit or hers, but he let her clutch it anyway. “There was a…a goalie on my high school soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and the whole bone came out of her knee like six inches or something, it was insane…”

“Robin,” Eddie had interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think that’s helping.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Steve,” Eddie had turned to him. “I’m really sorry, I spooked Ozzy, I didn’t mean to, I thought it would help because she’s usually better around me but she got a fright and jumped away and this is my fucking fault, I -”

“Munson, I don’t think that’s helping either,” Robin had said gently.

“Right. Sorry.”

Both of them had blissfully quietened down after that, and Steve had let his eyes drift shut, doing his best not to throw up on them, pain causing his stomach to roll and flip.

Now, he was at the hospital, pain medication flooding his veins after his bones had been reset, Robin beside him as he waited for the nurse to arrive to put his cast on. A broken tibia and fibula, they’d told him. He wouldn’t need surgery, but he would be in a cast and on crutches for several weeks.

“Reckon we can get a copy of the x-ray?” Steve slurred, tongue feeling too heavy in his mouth.

Robin frowned. “Why?”

“Looked kinda cool.” Steve let his mouth drop open, tongue working over his teeth. “Wanna show Eddie.”

“I don’t think he needs to see that, dingus.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I think he feels pretty bad about what happened. Might just make him feel worse.”

Steve had sat up a little at that, doing his best to frown, but his face wasn’t working.

Fuck, they had him on some good stuff.

“Why?”

“He thinks it was his fault. Because he scared Ozzy.”

“He didn’t mean to.”

“No, but he’ll blame himself anyway.”

Steve slapped his arm clumsily on the bed several times and then in the air before succeeding in finding Robin’s arm.

He tugged on her sleeve.

“S’not his fault.”

“Well, it kinda was, but he didn’t mean to.”

“Robs,” Steve implored her, pulling on her sleeve again until she looked at him. She looked like she was holding back a smirk, why was she about to laugh, this was serious… “Robs, you gotta tell him. Tell him it ain’t his fault.”

“Ok.”

“You gotta tell him,” Steve drawled again. “Promise.”

“I will, I promise.”

“M’kay. Good.”

“You’re so far gone for him, you know that, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“It’d be sweet, if it wasn’t against every rule we’ve got at work.”

“I’m crippled, Robs. Y’gotta be nice to me.”

“I am being nice!”

“Robs?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel funny.”

Robin had about two seconds warning to shove the little basin under his mouth before Steve was hurling into it. The meds had made him feel blissfully numb all over, but they’d also upset the hell out of his stomach.

“Get it out, big guy.” Robin helped him sit forward, rubbing his back, trying not to screw her nose up too much as Steve vomited.

Finally, once Steve was in a thick white cast and his prescriptions had been filled out, Robin had guided him out to her car.

“I already rang Vickie, she’s setting up the spare room for you. We can stop by at your place and get some of your stuff on the way,” Robin told him as she stowed his crutches in the backseat, then helped Steve into the car.

Steve took a few seconds to process her words, blinking slowly, dopily, as Robin reached across him to do up his seat belt.

“Huh?” he asked finally.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re staying with me, Steve. At least for the first few nights, till you’re off the heavy painkillers. Your house is too big, and I don’t want you to be there alone.”

“But I don’t wanna be a pain, I can just -”

“No,” Robin said, in a tone that left no room for argument. “This is final. I can feed Dart and check in on the horses, and maybe Dustin can help with them too, or Gareth or Jeff. There’s plenty of people that want to help, ok? My phone’s been blowing up with messages since we got to the hospital.”

Steve pondered that for a moment, confused as to why so many people seemed to care. It was just a broken leg, he wasn’t on death’s door, he’d had far worse in the past…

His eyes slipped closed for a moment, and the next thing he knew he was waking up in his own driveway, Robin nudging him in the arm.

“Tell me what to pack?”

Steve reluctantly did, and then grabbed for Robin’s arm again as she went to leave the car.

“Can you give Dart some treats? From the green packet. They’re his favourite.”

He waited, feeling useless and small while Robin was inside. He could see Butterscotch and Scoops by the fence line watching the car curiously, probably wondering why Steve wasn’t going over to see them.

He hoped like hell that Scoops didn’t decide to colic while he was away.

While waiting for Robin, Steve slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages, surprised to see the amount of notifications there.

Gareth

1538 – Hope you’re ok, man. Let me know if you need anything 😊

Jeff

1549 – Hey Steve, hope the leg’s not too sore. Ozzy’s fine, cos I know you’ll be thinking about her. Can’t believe you stayed on her as long as you did, pretty impressive dude. Here if you need any help, me and Gareth can drop your car home if you like.

Vickie

1610 – Rooms all made up for you Steve! Any requests for dinner?

1613 – Sorry, you probably don’t feel like much. But I can make you whatever, maybe that lasagne you like?

1618 – Or we could just have like soup or something…anyway, I’ll see you soon!

1620 – Alfie’s looking forward to seeing you!

She’d attached a photo of the ginger cat curled up on the freshly-made spare bed, and Steve couldn’t help but smile a little.

There was even a text from Hopper.

Jim

1600 – Steve, hoping you’re doing ok and the leg’s not too serious. Take your time getting better.

Steve sighed. He quickly responded to the messages then tossed his phone aside.

He couldn’t take his time, that was the thing. Eddie needed him, Ozzy needed him, and so did the rest of the mustangs and the inmates. Sure, he knew Robin and the others were perfectly capable, but he didn’t want any of them working with Ozzy and getting hurt.

He didn’t want them working with Eddie, either.

Because he wanted to be doing that.

Robin returned with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, putting it in the backseat and then starting the car up again.

“I never want to go through your underwear draw again, dingus,” she said, her nose screwed up a little. “It felt weird.”

Steve snorted, but felt a rush of appreciation for his best friend. “Thanks, Robs.”

“Don’t mention it.”

*****

Steve had to admit, he enjoyed being at Robin and Vickie’s place.

He missed his animals, sure, but their home was small and cozy and alive. Once the nausea from his meds wore off, Steve was eating better than he had in months, with Vickie and sometimes Robin cooking meals they knew he loved. Steve did his best to help, hobbling around the kitchen until one of them scolded him and told him to sit down – Robin had smacked him with the wooden spoon once when he didn’t listen.

There was always music playing quietly on the speaker in the kitchen, they would watch bad TV in the evenings, Steve curled up on the couch with Robin alternating between draping herself over him and Vickie. Chrissy visited one evening, sitting up with Steve to watch the game, and he enjoyed her easy company.

Alfonso would sleep on Steve’s bed at night, the cat less welcoming to cuddles than Dart was, but still affectionate in his own picky way.

Each day Steve would wake up and test his weight on his broken leg, hoping against hope there would be some remarkable improvement no matter how unlikely it seemed.

But it was less than a week since the injury had happened, and Steve would sink back down into the bed disappointed every time.

Dustin had been a godsend.

The kid was going to his house every evening and feeding the horses, mucking out, making sure they were ok. He would send photos to Steve each time – usually selfies with his thumbs up in front of each individual horse, and they made Steve smile every time.

Robin or Vickie would drive Steve back to his house to visit his animals whenever they could. He couldn’t go in the paddock with his crutches, but he’d hobble his way to the fence line and pat the horses and slip them some apple as they gathered around him.

Dart was well looked after too. Steve would often sit down, awkwardly positioned with his cast on the porch with the cat in his lap while someone else threw hay across to the horses.

Still, a part of Steve longed for things to go back to normal.

He needed to be back at work, he needed to make sure Eddie was ok, that he wasn’t losing any progress. He wanted to check on Ozzy and start working with her again, knew they’d have a hell of a time riding her again if they weren’t very careful.

Robin was giving him updates every time she got home from work, Steve grilling her for details.

“And Eddie?” he’d ask, after she described her day.

“He’s alright,” Robin would shrug. “Quiet, but he always is.”

“More quiet than usual though?”

“I guess.”

“And he doesn’t have any new injuries?”

“Not that I noticed.”

“Well did you look?”

“Well…kinda, but I’m not just gonna openly stare at the man, dingus, that’s your move.”

“Funny. But he’s ok?”

“I think so.”

But one day, Robin arrived home and pressed a folded-up piece of paper into Steve’s hand.

“From Eddie,” she said quietly, then headed into the kitchen, leaving Steve alone on the back porch to read the letter in the evening light.

Steve,

I hope you’re ok. I’m really sorry about what happened, I know it’s my fault, I really didn’t mean to scare Ozzy.

I probably shouldn’t be writing to you, but Robin promised she’d pass this on to you.

It isn’t really the same without you around here. The others are fine, but none of them make me feel as safe around the horses as you did.

Ozzy seems nervous. I go to visit her in the paddock, Gareth wanted to bring her into the round pen the other day but I said no and he couldn’t catch her anyway. It’s too soon, I think, and you’re the best person at handling her.

I don’t want to say anything that might get you into trouble, but just know I miss seeing you, and I hope you’ll be back once you can be.

Thank you for helping when Hagan had me cornered, too. I never really said, because I’m an idiot, but it’s easier for me to write these things than it is to say them. So thank you.

I understand if you’d rather not talk to me after what happened with Ozzy, but I just wanted you to know I think about you every day.

- Eddie

Steve read the letter slowly, squinting to try and force the letters to cooperate. He wished he was better at reading, wished he could appreciate Eddie’s flowing handwriting, but dyslexia was a bitch like that. It took him three read-throughs to wrap his head around everything properly.

Slowly, he folded up the paper, gathered up his crutches, and limped back inside. He fetched his glasses from his bedside table – he rarely wore them, but they were useful for the few occasions he needed to read or write something. Ever since his head injury as a kid, he struggled to get eyes to focus on paper.

“Robs?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically shaky as he approached her in the kitchen.

She turned to him, eyes scanning his face. “Mmm?”

“Can I borrow a pen? And some paper?”

Robin’s face softened, but she tutted under her breath as she reached into a drawer and pulled out his requested supplies.

“Steve…” she started.

“I gotta do it, Robs,” Steve said quietly. “I know…I know what you’re thinkin’. But I have to.”

With a small sigh, she nodded.

Steve took the paper and pen she offered and shuffled back outside.

For a long time, he sat with the pen hovering above the paper. There was a little sunflower design on the top corner of the page, and Steve wondered whether Eddie would notice.

He was observant, Steve decided. Maybe it’d even make him smile a little.

Unlike Eddie, Steve was not better at writing down his thoughts than saying them out loud. He knew there’d be spelling mistakes, was already embarrassed because what if Eddie thought he was an idiot?

With the sinking sun still warming his shoulders, Steve touched pen to paper and started to write.

Hi Eddie.

Thanks for writing. I’m not very good at it I’ll warn you. I’m dyslecix, so sorry if this is a mess.

It wasnt your fault with Ozzy. You were trying to help and normally she wouldnt be so scared but she was already really worked up and thats why she reacted like that.

My leg is ok. I have to ware a stupid cast for a few weeks but hopefully I can come back to work soon even if I just suprevise and don’t do everything I normally do.

I hope your ok and that your injuries are healing up. And I hope Hagan isnt still causing you problems. You can tell me if he is and I’ll try to help.

Hopefully I’ll see you again soon. Tell Ozzy I say hi. And if you want to work with her in the mean time you can just take everything very slow and have Robin with you.

Sorry I’m no good with words.

- Steve

By the time he’d finished, the sun was dipping below the horizon, and Steve’s head was starting to ache a bit from the concentration.

He tried to read it back over several times, frustration building because he felt like he wasn’t saying enough. He wanted to say he’d liked the warmth of Eddie’s arm around his middle, that sometimes when the sun hit his face just right Eddie’s eyes shone a myriad of deep dark hues, that he loved how Eddie treated the horses with such quiet care and Steve often wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that care.

But if their letters were ever intercepted, Steve could lose his job over something like that.

Already, it was risky.

Robin told him such when Steve shyly handed her the letter the following morning when she was about to head out for work.

She’d given him that look, that look that said I love you, but this is fucking stupid.

But Steve had pressed the letter into her hand, quietly pleading, and Robin had caved, promising to give it to Eddie when she found a private moment.

And so, Robin became their reluctant go-between, helping them pass letters back and forth like kids delivering secret notes in class.

They became the highlight of Steve’s quiet days. Eddie was eloquent in his letters, he was funny, he was so much better with words than Steve was but he never made Steve feel inadequate or stupid.

At first, they remained careful. Eddie would talk about Ozzy, how she was slowly making a little bit of progress with Robin’s help, how they’d managed to get her back in the round pen and able to lead her around. He talked about the other horses sometimes, how when he felt like Ozzy needed an extra break he was helping Gareth and Jeff with Hagan’s mustang and the other two that now had no one to work with them.

Steve told him about Alfonso, and about his own animals. He talked about Butterscotch, how he’d gone along to a mustang auction and immediately loved the horse, and how from there he’d learnt about the prison program and eventually landed a job there.

Slowly, their letters became more…personal.

When Steve moved back to his own house (much to Robin’s reluctance, but Steve was determined to give back her privacy and her spare room) he spent much longer than he’d like to admit crafting his letters.

But he much preferred reading Eddie’s letters than writing his own.

*

As for things I enjoy doing, I like reading and writing. I used to love this game called Dungeons and Dragons, maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s sort of like a role-playing game, I’d make up my own stories for it and run the games for players, I used to be the Dungeon Master. There’s monsters and sword-fights and magic and stuff. Maybe you find that stuff silly, I guess it can sound kind of childish, but I really liked it, and it was a way to escape a lot of stuff for me.

*

Steve had been excited at reading that section, because Dustin and the other kids played that game! He’d messaged the kid, double checking it was the same game, and asking a couple of questions about it.

Dustin

1303 – Why are you suddenly interested in D&D, you usually call me a nerd when I talk about it.

Steve

1305 – I just am peabrain, now whats a dungeon master

*

A bunch of kids I know play that game. They dont shut up about it but its nice that they have something they enjoy so much. Dustin is one of them he helps with my horses a lot and I teach him how to ride. He told me his charactre is a bard? You will probably know more about that than I do…

*

A bard is pretty cool, they’re all about music. What kind of music do you like? I used to be in a band, actually. I sang and played lead guitar. We actually nearly made it big, I know maybe you won’t believe me but…

*

I like a lot of older music. 80s stuff mostly. A band huh? What kind of music did you play…

*

The whole thing felt old-fashioned and…sweet? Steve looked forward to his letters every damn day, hobbling out to wait in the driveway for Robin to arrive on her way back from work, ignoring her lecture every time as she handed off one letter and took his reply to yesterday’s one.

One day, now three weeks into having his cast, Steve received a reply that had his heart pounding a little.

*

I don’t know if you know much about what I’m in here for. Maybe you heard stuff, I don’t know. But I want…I need you to know that yes, I was involved in some bad shit. I did some things I regret and one day maybe I can tell you why, but not in a letter. But I never meant for anyone to get hurt and I’m trying to be a better person. I’ll try and tell you one day, if you want to hear it…

*

I believe you Eddie. If you want to tell me then you can otherwise you dont have to. I see how you are with the horses and thats enough for me to know you’re a good person even if you made mistakes in the past. The mustang program is all about second chances and you deserve it…

*

Your previous letter meant a lot to me, Stevie. Thank you…

*

Stevie. The new nickname had Steve clutching the paper, his cheeks heating and a smile spreading across his face. He was sitting alone in his lounge, quiet draped thickly over him, and yet Eddie’s presence was felt strongly. He could almost hear the word slipping from the man’s mouth, the little glint in his eye when he said it…

Shit. Steve was in deep, and he didn’t see any way out of this – he wasn’t sure he wanted a way out.

Tomorrow, he’d be back at work. Only to supervise and offer advice where he could; he was still on crutches, still not able to do much physical labour, but he’d see Eddie again.

He was nervous. Even though he knew their letters hadn’t been intercepted yet, he felt like their words would be strung out between the two of them, visible for everyone to read.

He sighed. Folded Eddie’s letter away, didn’t scribble out a reply for the first time in weeks.

After all, some things were better said in person.

Chapter Text

“You ok?” Robin asked Steve worriedly as he hopped to the backseat to grab his crutches. “Here, do you want to lean on me for a second?”

“M’fine, Robs,” Steve said, a little sharply. He didn’t mean to, but Robin had been fussing over him the entire car ride, questioning whether he was really ready to come back to work so soon, trying to convince him he’d be better off staying at home a little longer.

“Just let me get your crutches, at least.”

Steve sighed, leaning up against the car and letting his best friend have that small win.

She gathered them up and handed them to him, chewing her lip as Steve slipped his arms through the rings at the elbows.

“The grounds pretty uneven,” Robin continued. “So make sure you go slow. I’ll walk next to you, in case -”

“Robin,” Steve said, exasperated. “Go on ahead, I’m fine. We’re already late as it is.”

Her mouth set in a reluctant line, Robin did as he asked, but kept turning to sneak glances back at him as she walked ahead.

The inmates were already gathered around Gareth and Jeff who were giving some instructions for the day.

As Steve approached them, gritting his teeth in annoyance at his slow pace, he looked over to the mustang paddock. Ozzy was watching him, standing stock-still with her head bolt upright. When Steve passed her, she tossed her head and galloped to the other end of the paddock.

Great.

It might’ve just been the unfamiliar sight of the crutches that had made her spook, but Steve had a sinking suspicion it was him she was afraid of now.

Shelving that concern for now, Steve looked back to the inmates. Looked for Eddie.

The man was looking back at him with a shy smile, lifting his hand in a tiny wave.

Steve nodded to him, a little awkward, his cheeks flushing. For weeks, he’d been hiding behind words on a page, and now Eddie was right in front of him, along with the reality of everything they’d shared back and forth.

And sure, Steve had never explicitly written that he liked Eddie in that way.

Neither had Eddie about Steve.

But it had been there, in the I hope this finds you well, behind the I miss seeing you, to the you made me feel safe. The I hope Hagan isnt still causing you problems, the maybe one day you can meet my horses I’d like that, the Iron maiden came on the radio the other day and I thought of you.

It was all there, tucked away in sequestered bits of paper, in words scribbled under the morning sun on a back porch, under the harsh fluorescent light on a thin prison mattress.

Steve focused on moving his feet. The dull tap of the crutches against the dirt, the small ache that he felt when he braced his weight on his injured leg.

“…those that are riding, we’ll get you up and have you working on transitioning to trot,” Gareth was saying. “And anyone else can keep going with ground work.”

He sent the group on their way, the men shuffling off to begin their tasks.

“Hey Steve, good to see you!” Gareth exclaimed.

“You too,” Steve said, pausing to lean up against the fence. “Sorry I’m not gonna be a whole lotta help yet, but I can oversee stuff, or you just let me know what ya want me to do.”

“I’ve got the perfect job for you, actually,” Gareth said, stepping closer to Steve. “Can you keep an eye on Munson and Ozzy? He’s pretty good at working with her, but Ozzy gets upset real quick if me or Jeff go in the round pen with her. Robin she’s ok with, but she’s working with Billy and Red today.”

“Oh, that’s…nah, that’s fine, I can do that,” Steve said quickly.

“Good.” Gareth gave him a small smile before heading away, and Steve was left blinking a little in his absence, suspicion starting to rise in him.

Did Gareth know?

Maybe Steve and Eddie hadn’t been all that subtle before, as careful as Steve had tried to be. And the last time Steve had been here, Eddie had had his arms around him, but that was to help him walk, to stop him from falling on his face…

He shook himself briefly. Gareth was just being sensible, he decided. Watching Eddie work with Ozzy was something he could do without too much effort. It made sense.

So, Steve took himself over to the round pen gate. Hopper called out as he passed, lifting a hand in greeting which Steve returned. Leaning up against the wooden post, Steve waited, watching as Eddie quietly caught Ozzy and led her to the round pen.

Steve swung the gate open for them.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie murmured as he passed.

Steve’s heart clenched. “Hey, Eddie.”

Eddie paused, lingering in the gateway. “How’s the leg?”

“S’not so bad,” Steve said, looking down at his cast. “Sorry I can’t be much help today, but you can show me what you’ve been workin’ on with Ozzy.”

Eddie nodded. “Sure. It’s, ah…it’s nice to see you again.”

“You too.” Steve glanced sideways, checked their surroundings, cleared his throat a little. “I, ah…I enjoyed the letters.”

“Me too,” Eddie smiled.

Steve brushed the back of his neck. “Sorry my writin’ ain’t all that good. The letters, they mix themselves up a lot, and I took a knock to the head when I was a kid, it kinda messed up my eyes a bit, makes shit all blurry when I’m tryna’ read…”

“Nah, that’s ok. I appreciate you taking the time anyway.” Eddie faltered for a moment, eyes darting around before landing on Steve’s face again. Ozzy shifted from foot-to-foot beside him, still fixing Steve with a wary gaze. “What happened when you were a kid, you fall off a horse or something?”

Oh.

Steve had left that out of his letters, hadn’t touched on his childhood much at all; after all, it wouldn’t have made for the best prison reading.

Steve looked away, chuckled lightly. “Somethin’ like that,” he landed on. “Now, how ‘bout you take Ozzy in there and show me what you can do?”

Eddie did, and Steve was impressed.

He watched as Eddie led the mare around the round pen with no difficulty, had her walk and trot circles around him, had her back up and move sideways.

Steve had voiced his praise, and couldn’t hide a smile at the small flush that spread over Eddie’s cheeks, at the way the man tipped his head and tugged a stray bang across his mouth.

When it came to saddling, Ozzy tensed up, but Eddie took everything slowly. He buckled the girth without any assistance, patted her neck, and faced Steve ready for his next instruction.

Steve was blown away by the progress Eddie had made in the three weeks he’d been away. A tiny part of him, the selfish part currently gnawing away at his stomach, was a little upset that it hadn’t been him helping Eddie make that progress, but he swallowed it down. Robin, Gareth and Jeff were excellent at what they did as well, he shouldn’t be surprised that Eddie had done so well under their instruction.

“You think she can be ridden again yet?” Eddie asked.

Steve pondered that for a moment. Ozzy seemed relatively calm, chewing lazily at the bit in her mouth, leaning into Eddie’s hand on her neck. But he knew all that could change the second someone put their foot in the stirrup, and Steve wasn’t sure he was ready to risk anyone’s safety like that so soon.

“I can give it a go,” Robin piped up, having overheard Eddie.

Steve turned to her, already shaking his head because what if Robin got hurt, Steve couldn’t live with that.

“Well, how about I just start with leaning over her back?” Robin suggested. “And see how she copes with that.”

And Steve…couldn’t really argue with that. He was still at least another two weeks away from getting his cast off, and even then it would be a while before he could climb up on a horse as unpredictable as Ozzy was.

So he watched tensely as Robin hauled a mounting block into the round pen, letting Ozzy look at it for a minute and settle again before she stepped up on it. Buckling her helmet, she asked Eddie to give them some space, and gathered up the reins.

Eddie joined Steve by the fence.

“Will she be ok?” he asked nervously.

Steve wasn’t sure if he was referring to Ozzy or Robin, but his answer was the same either way. “Let’s just watch and see.”

“Is she scared?”

“Ozzy?”

“Mmm.”

“No, she looks ok at the moment.”

“Ok. That’s good. I…I don’t want her to be scared, and I thought maybe after last time…” Eddie trailed off.

Steve leaned towards him, pointing at Robin. “See, she’s managed to get a foot in the stirrup. She’s not just gonna hop on up like I did, she’s gonna take it real slow. See how she’s just leanin’ over Ozzy a little? She’ll put a little more weight on her if Ozzy’s calm, and if not she’ll just slide back down, no harm done.”

Eddie nodded along, listening closely.

As Robin leaned further over the mare’s back, committing a little more of her weight to the saddle, Ozzy snorted and scuttled forwards a few steps.

Steve tensed, white-knuckling the railing.

But Robin just spoke quietly to the mare, and slid back down to the ground safely.

“Munson, can you come over here?” she called.

Eddie threw an anxious look at Steve, then looked back to Robin. “What for?”

“I want you to come stand with her, might help keep her calm, she likes you.”

“Oh, that um…that didn’t go so well last time.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Steve reminded him.

“It kinda was,” Eddie mumbled.

Damn it, Steve had told him several times in his letters that what had happened wasn’t on Eddie, but clearly he still felt guilty.

“It wasn’t,” Steve said firmly. “I think Robin’s right, it’s worth a try.”

With a last look at Steve, Eddie hesitantly left his spot at the fence and approached Robin. Steve watched as Robin directed him where to stand, Eddie’s hand automatically finding Ozzy’s nose and stroking it.

Robin tried again, swinging up half into the saddle, weight braced on the one foot she had in the stirrup.

Ozzy stood firm, head turned towards Eddie.

Steve watched as some of the other inmates gathered at the fence to watch, some probably expecting something resembling the eruption from the mare several weeks ago.

“He’s been doing well with her,” came a voice from slightly behind Steve.

He turned his head, saw Billy standing there, watching the activity in the round pen.

“Munson, I mean,” Billy clarified. “He’s been working his ass off with that damn horse while you’ve been away.”

Steve frowned a little, unsure why Billy was even talking to him, he hadn’t much before unless it was related to Steve giving him instructions with Red.

“Well, looks like it’s paid off,” Steve commented after a moment.

“He doesn’t shut up about her, you know? We share a cell, dunno if you knew.”

“Oh?” Steve did know, but he was treading carefully, trying to keep his face nonchalant and focus on Robin starting to settle in the saddle.

“Yeah. Look, um…” Billy stepped closer to him, leaning his elbows up on top of the fence. “How’s my sister?”

Steve’s heart rate picked up. How did Billy even know that Steve had anything to do with Max? Unless Max was writing to Billy and had mentioned him, but Steve didn’t think that was very likely.

But that meant…

Steve went cold all over.

Billy glanced at him, and nodded once. “Yeah, Steve, I found one of your letters. I’m not an idiot, and Munson fell asleep with one on his pillow once.”

Steve swallowed the nausea rising in his gut. “And you read it?”

Billy scoffed. “ ‘Course I did. Not much to do in there, you know?”

Steve was frantically trying to think back to any letter where he might’ve mentioned Max and what else he might’ve said in that letter, if there was anything that would jeopardise his job, but knew just the fact that he was writing to Eddie at all was enough to do that.

He might’ve mentioned Max when he talked about the kids he taught to ride, vaguely remembered writing that she was one of the few who weren’t obsessed with D&D…

Billy must’ve sensed his discomfort, and spoke again. “I don’t give a shit about the letters, man. You two wanna write your little love notes, go ahead. I just wanna know how my sister is.”

Steve recovered his voice from wherever it had slunk off to. “She’s…ok.”

“That all you got?”

“Well…she’s quiet. I don’t know what happened with you and her, but she doesn’t talk about it. She comes to my place on weekends with her friends, they ride my horses. She seems to enjoy that, but…she is a bit withdrawn, sometimes.”

Billy nodded slowly. “She say anything about home? About her mom, or…her stepdad?”

Steve shook his head. “No. She asked about you, once. I told her you were doin’ ok, told her about Red.”

Billy was quiet for a moment, still looking out to the round pen, but his mind clearly elsewhere. Steve had to stop himself from squirming, his heart still racing at the thought of someone else having read one of his letters.

“Look, Hargrove -” he started eventually.

“I ain’t gonna say shit about your letters, man,” Billy interrupted quietly. “Just…look out for my sister?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered quickly. “Yeah, I can do that.” He did anyway. He loved those damn kids, every one of them.

“Appreciate it.”

With that, Billy pushed off the fence and wandered away, back towards his own horse.

Steve forced his attention back to Robin and Eddie, forced his breathing to slow, loosened his grip where his fingers were digging into the fence post.

They were ok, he told himself.

Billy had seemed genuine, just concerned for his sister, and Steve could make sure she was ok. And the man wouldn’t gain anything for reporting Steve about the letters anyway, he decided. He’d have to talk to Eddie sometime, warn him to be more careful about leaving the letters out where they could be read.

But also, he couldn’t kick the image of Eddie falling asleep with one of Steve’s letters spread out on his pillow from his mind.

His head started to pound a little, the beginnings of a migraine starting to form.

Sighing, Steve popped several painkillers from the sheet in his jean pocket, swallowed them dry with a small wince.

Robin, at least, had made good progress. She was fully sat in the saddle now, Eddie smiling and patting Ozzy, the mare looking alert but not as though she was ready to toss Robin into another dimension.

After a moment of sitting up there, Robin eased herself back down to the ground again, quietly high-fiving Eddie.

Something warm stirred in Steve’s gut at the sight of his best friend and the man he loved interacting so warmly.

Loved.

The man he loved.

Because watching Eddie smile so widely, watching him look back at Steve excitedly, Steve knew that was what he was feeling.

He wasn’t even sure when he’d slipped from having a silly crush to being in love with the guy. Maybe it was when he’d spilled his words out onto paper over and over, maybe it was when he realized how much he missed Eddie when he’d been away, or maybe it was earlier than that, when Eddie had wrapped an arm around him and held him close when Steve was writhing in agony.

Hell, maybe it had been when he’d seen him curled up on the ground, shielding himself from the cruel blows of Hagan, and Steve had been overcome with rage and a sheer need to protect, the emotions mixing themselves up and toppling over each other but combining into something like love for the man.

Robin always said he fell in love too fast, too hard. He couldn't help it.

“That went pretty well.” Robin’s voice snapped Steve out of his thoughts.

“Ah…yeah, it did. Well done, ya did good.”

Robin followed Steve’s eyes to where Eddie was untacking Ozzy, chatting away to the mare.

“A load of feed came in early this morning.”

“Oh?” Steve asked, disinterested.

“Uh huh,” Robin nodded slowly, trying to catch his eye. “Need someone to put it away. I thought, since Eddie’s finished with Ozzy, and you’re a bit…useless at the moment -”

“Hey -” Steve scowled at her.

Robin poked her tongue out briefly, then continued. “You could take Eddie over to the shed and show him where to put everything.”

Steve blinked a couple times. “Oh.”

“Yeah, dingus. Off you go.”

“Wait, but you...”

“Were against this from the start?” Robin finished his sentence quietly. “Yes. But every time you look at him, you get that dopey look on your face and he blushes like a little girl. I can’t stand in the way of this anymore, you two are making me nauseous. Take the chance to talk to him while you can, and be sensible about it.”

Steve loved her. He’d tell her so, later, but right now he started hobbling in the direction of the shed as quickly as he could.

“Munson! Can you help out in the feed room? Need someone to lift some bags.” Robin called out behind him.

Steve almost reached the shed before he stumbled slightly, dropping a crutch and cursing under his breath.

“I gotcha, Stevie,” Eddie murmured, catching up to him and quickly leaning down to grab it.

“Thanks, Eds,” Steve said without thinking, unsure where the nickname had even come from before it tumbled from his mouth.

Eddie paused, something flitting across his face.

Steve swore he saw the man’s pupils dilate slightly, despite the harsh light from the sun.

“Eds, huh?” Eddie said, in a tone Steve hadn’t yet heard from the man.

It was low and teasing, but a hint of something more serious behind it, something dark and wanting.

“Yeah,” Steve quickly adjusted his crutches, his palms starting to sweat and slip a little on the handles. “Sorry, just slipped out.”

“No, don’t apologize.”

Steve looked up. Met the man’s eye, let a smile spread across his face. “Ya liked it, huh?”

“Sure did.”

A moment passed, the two of them standing close, Steve’s tongue darting out to wet chapped lips.

“Ah…feed bags’ll be over here, I’ll show ya,” Steve said, gesturing to the side door of the shed.

Steve took himself over to that shed as fast as his damn crutches could manage, because the prospect of being alone with Eddie behind a closed door was too much to pass up.

He shouldered his way into the shed and nudged the door shut behind Eddie with his foot.

“Is it…these bags here?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the messy pile of chaff and barely sacks on the floor.

“Yeah, Patrick’s left them in a bit of a damn mess as always, can you open one of each and tip them into those bins, and then stack the others off to one side?”

Eddie got to work. Steve tried to not feel like too much of a creep just standing there, practically leering at the lean muscles pulling tight in Eddie’s arms as he hoisted the heavy sacks, trying to ignore the soft grunts of effort coming from the man. As much as he’d wanted to get Eddie alone, he now wasn’t sure where to start, how to get his words out.

“Hargrove knows,” Steve said eventually. “About the letters.”

Eddie dropped a sack down on the pile with a thud.

“…shit.”

“It’s ok, I don’t think he’ll say anythin’,” Steve quickly added. “Just…I thought I should tell ya.”

“I’ll be more careful,” Eddie promised. “I mean, that’s if we keep writing, that is. Now that you’re back here.”

“I liked it.”

“So did I.”

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

Steve sucked in a breath. Dust swirled in the light pouring through the narrow window high up on the wall. The air was heavy and hot, and Steve’s maroon shirt stuck to his back. He reached up, took off his hat, twisted it in his hands.

“I…I really like you,” Steve said quietly.

Eddie looked at him, his expression soft.

“I know I shouldn’t,” Steve continued. “It’s damn unprofessional, and I’m sorry, but I think you already know. I wanted to tell ya anyway, though…and…” Steve huffed out a small laugh. “I’m usually better at this, I swear.”

Eddie smiled and stepped closer to him. “Stevie -”

“It’s…you’re so good with Ozzy, you’re patient and kind n’ calm. And I think I learned a lot about you in the letters, and if ya wanna keep writin’ them well I’d love to keep readin’, and maybe Robin can still help us pass them back n’ forth.”

Steve was rambling, he knew he was rambling, and this wasn’t like him but Eddie standing so close to him it was making him feel giddy, and the way he was reaching out to brush his fingers over his hand wasn’t helping…

“And I’m not the best guy, Eds, I drink too much and some days I can barely drag myself outta bed and I’ve been strugglin’ these past few months since my ex left me, and all I have is a beat-up old ranch and some horses no one else wanted and a cat that’s scared of nearly everyone and most people in my life have left me, it’s like there’s somethin’ ‘bout me that sends people runnin’ eventually -”

Eddie leaned forward and kissed him, and Steve’s words died in his mouth.

In a musty little shed, finally away from prying eyes, Steve tossed his hat blindly aside and reached up to grip Eddie’s waist, holding him close as he kissed him, and kissed him, any sense of caution thrown to the wind.

Chapter Text

Steve could’ve spent that whole day and every one that followed kissing Eddie.

Unfortunately, they only had so much time before someone got suspicious and wondered why the hell it was taking them so long to stack some feed bags.

Finally, Steve pulled away, his forehead still pressing against Eddie’s.

“Sorry,” Eddie started. “I…I had to do that. But I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted -”

“Eds,” Steve said, laughing softly. “What part of that made you think I didn’t want it?”

Eddie blinked at him a few times, before a smile spread across his lips. “So we’re…ok?”

In answer, Steve kissed him again, brief but full of feeling. “As much as I’d like for this to continue, we gotta finish and get back out there.”

Eddie nodded, a small sigh escaping him at the loss of Steve’s mouth.

“Eddie?” Steve asked quietly, as the other man picked up one of the remaining sacks.

“Yeah?”

“Can I…can I ask ya…” Steve leant against the wall, adjusted his weight awkwardly off his bad leg. He shouldn’t be asking this, but he figured on a scale of unprofessional behaviour it probably ranked below shoving his tongue in an inmate’s mouth. “You don’t gotta answer if you don’t want to, but…how long? Um, how long have you got left? In prison?”

Eddie paused, then threw the sack with a little too much force at the pile. He brushed his hands off on his thighs and turned to face Steve again.

“Nearly a year. Well, three hundred and thirty days, to be exact.”

Steve took that in, trying to quickly do the math in his head. Eddie had been arrested before Steve had moved into the area a few years ago, but even with nearly another year to go that seemed like a short amount of time for armed robbery and a slew of other charges…

Eddie must’ve seen the question on his face, and added, “I cut a deal, got my sentence shortened. It was my dad they really wanted, and he…well, he ran when I was caught. I stayed, it was…it got messy, what we did, I didn’t even know dad had a fucking gun on him, and next minute he shot the driver of this van we were robbing, turns out the guy had a panic alarm on him and there were sirens and dad…dad ran. I stayed, I tried to help the driver and the cops found me there. Dad was on the run for a couple months, I gave him up, told them where they’d probably find him. And they did.”

He wasn’t meeting Steve’s eye as he spoke, looking instead at a spot behind his shoulder, fiddling with his sleeves.

“I, ah…I’m sorry. This is…you don’t wanna do this. With me, you don’t…you don’t want me,” Eddie mumbled suddenly, making a move for the door.

Steve reached out, took his arm. “Eddie, wait.”

“Steve, trust me. I’m sorry. This is my fault, I started the letters, I shouldn’t have. I really like you, ok? But…you deserve someone better. Someone who’s not a fucking criminal.”

“You stayed,” Steve said quietly.

“What?”

“You stayed,” he repeated. “You tried to help that guy. You didn’t mean for him to get hurt.”

“No, but I was gonna rob him,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah, and that was wrong, and you know it.”

Eddie nodded. “My dad…he got me into a lot of bad shit, Steve. But still, I went along with it, didn’t I?”

“You did the right thing in the end, even knowing you’d be caught.”

“Fat lot of good it did,” Eddie said harshly. “The guy bled out all over me. Died right as the cops pulled up.”

Steve’s heart sunk a little. Eddie clenched his jaw, his face haunted.

“It was Hagan’s uncle,” he said after a moment.

Oh.

The puzzle pieces were starting to fit.

“Hagan’s in here for fraud, you know? His whole family works for that damn bank, and they’re corrupt as anything, but his uncle…he didn’t deserve that. He was just transporting cash that day.”

“That’s why Hagan…”

“Regularly beats the shit out of me?” Eddie laughed bitterly. “Yeah. Still think I don’t deserve it?”

Steve loosened his grip on Eddie’s arm, gently traced his fingers over the orange fabric of his jumpsuit. “I think…you’re doin’ your time. You’re payin’ your penance, you’re tryin’ to be better. Right?”

Eddie nodded, large brown eyes fixed on Steve now.

“That man’s death, it ain’t on you.”

“But -”

Steve held a finger up to the man’s lips, effectively shushing him. “It ain’t. And I don’t know everythin’ else you’ve done, and you don’t hafta tell me if you don’t want to. But when I look at you, I see a man tryin’ his best with what he’s got. I see a man that gave up his own father because he knew it was the right thing to do.”

“It also got be a shorter sentence,” Eddie pointed out. “How do you know I didn’t just do it for that?”

Steve stared him down. “Did you?”

Eddie ducked his head. “No,” he mumbled. “My dad was an asshole. Always was. I didn’t want to be doing all that shit, but he…got in my head, I know that’s a bad excuse and it doesn’t mean shit, but…some of the stuff he used to do, Steve,” Eddie’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “I was so fucking scared of him. And he used to threaten to hurt my uncle Wayne sometimes, if I didn’t help him with these…jobs…and I love my uncle Steve, you don’t understand -”

“Hey,” Steve interrupted, stepping closer to Eddie. “I believe ya, ok?” He could see Eddie starting to panic a little, could see tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “S’ok.” Steve brushed calloused fingers across Eddie’s cheek, and the other man leaned into the touch.

“You’re too fucking good for me, Stevie,” he whispered.

“Well, tough,” Steve told him. “You’ve got me. So you keep doin’ what you’re doin’, serve the rest of your time and after that…well. I’ll be waitin’ for ya.”

Eddie froze. “You mean that? Don’t tell me that if you don’t, because I don’t think I could live with it if…if you changed your mind.”

“I ain’t changin’ my mind,” Steve said resolutely.

Eddie smiled again, his face full of hope. “Really?”

“Really. Now, we seriously gotta get back out there before someone comes lookin’.”

*****

Later that day, as soon as Robin was pulling out of the long driveway to head home with Steve in the passenger seat, she turned to him eagerly.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.

Steve laughed, turned to look out the window at the red-dirt paddocks rolling past. “He kissed me.”

Robin jerked the steering wheel in surprise, a gasp escaping her. “He what?”

“Shit, Robs, watch the damn road will ya!”

“I thought you two were gonna talk, not make out in the shed like a couple of teenagers.”

“Well, we did talk. As well.”

“Good, I’m glad!”

“Me too.”

“So….”

“What?”

“Are you two…like. You know. Together now, or what?”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “I mean…I don’t know. What would that look like for us? Can’t exactly be open about it, can we?”

Robin threw him an exasperated look. “Well what did you even talk about?”

“Mostly him. About why he’s in prison, about his dad.”

Robin made a face. “Terrible guy, if the stories are true.”

“I think they are, from the way Eddie was talkin’.”

“And you told him that you…like him?”

“I mean, yeah, but I think he got that memo already. He’s a good kisser, Robs. And you shoulda seen the way he threw those feed bags ‘round, like they weighed nothin’. I know he doesn’t look all that strong, but he is. I’m tellin’ you, I’d give a lot to see him without that damn jumpsuit -”

“Steven!” Robin exclaimed, cutting him off.

“What?”

“Enough, ew!”

“I meant with different clothes on, somethin’ other than those shapeless coveralls,” Steve continued. “Not…not just naked.” He tipped his head to the side. “Although…”

“Ok, I’ve heard enough about your dirty little crush, thanks.”

“Well, you said to tell ya everythin’, so…”

Robin shook her head, smiling despite herself. “Hey, you know it’s the family day next week?”

Steve had actually forgotten about that, with everything else happening. When they reached a certain point in the program, when the mustangs were broken in and the men competent enough, they put on an open day where the inmates could invite an approved visitor, usually family, along to see their progress. While the inmates often pretended it wasn’t, Steve knew it was a big deal for them, and he always enjoyed watching the quiet pride on their faces as their family members watched them work with their mustangs.

“Eddie’s inviting his uncle,” Robin continued. “Wayne. I’ve seen him around town a few times, he seems nice.”

“He mentioned his uncle. Seemed real fond of him.”

“It’ll be nice for them both, then. Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“In all seriousness, I do like Eddie. While you were away, there was…well, something happened…” Robin trailed off, gaze now firmly fixed on the road ahead.

Steve stiffened in his seat. “What happened?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you, because I knew you’d get upset, and you’d be angry that you weren’t there but that would just be stupid because it wasn’t your fault you weren’t there and everything was ok in the end so -”

“Robs,” Steve said firmly. “Tell me.”

Robin sighed. “One of the guys cornered me. Bruce Lowe. By the bus, I was getting a head start on sorting the lunches. And he sort of…well, he got up in my space. Started saying some…really degrading stuff, I’m not gonna repeat it, but then when I went to step away from him he grabbed my arm and -” Robin choked on her words a little.

Steve reached across for her free hand, taking it gently in his, and stayed quiet so she could finish speaking.

“He leaned in really close, I thought he was going to try and…well. Anyway, Eddie found us. He was coming to give me one of his letters, and he pulled Lowe away and yelled for Hopper. And then he sat with me by the bus for ages until I calmed down, Dmitri was hovering around too but he didn’t really know what to do, it was Eddie that got me water and made sure I was ok and…he’s a good guy, Steve.”

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” Steve ground out.

“Not your fault,” Robin said quickly. “I didn’t want you to feel bad, that’s why I didn’t say anything.”

“No, I’m sorry it even happened in the first place. I know it can be damn hard for you there, Robs. Some of those men, they just don’t change, and they don’t deserve your time. And look, if I had been there, I’d probably be unemployed now, ‘cause I woulda broken the guy’s nose.”

That got a small smile out of Robin.

Steve brought her hand to his mouth, kissed her knuckles chastely. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Robin said honestly. “Shook me up for a little bit, but Hopper got rid of him, axed him from the program.”

“I understand why you didn’t tell me, but if anythin’ like that ever happens again…I want you too, ok? Don’ worry about how I feel about it, I want to be there for you.”

Robin swallowed thickly, nodding.

“Did ya talk to Vick, at least?”

“Yeah. It helped.”

“Good. Love ya, Robs.”

“Love you too, dingus.”

*****

Despite Steve and Eddie being able to see each other again at work, their letters continued with Robin still acting as their messenger.

Over the following week, they didn’t get another chance like they had with the feed shed. So, their interactions were limited to shy smiles, to fleeting touches – fingers lingering when they passed a rope between them, a casual brush up against the other’s body as they passed them by in a gateway, a hand squeezing an ankle as Steve adjusted Eddie’s foot in the stirrup.

Eddie was spending his time riding one of the dropped inmate’s mustangs, a quiet little bay mare, to work on his skills in between continuing ground work with Ozzy.

*

I really like riding the horses, Eddie wrote later that week. I was scared at first, because they’re big, and I didn’t really know what I was doing, but you were right. It makes me feel like I’m worth something, like that horse has chosen to trust me even though it doesn’t have to, even though it could hurt me if it wanted to. Even though I could hurt it too – not that I would, but they don’t know that. Does that make sense? Maybe it’s a little like how you chose to trust me.

*

Your good at it, Steve had replied. The horses are calm around you because they sense your not going to hurt them. And the only thing a horse will judge you by is how you treat them. They don’t care about your history or what youve done in the past they only care that you treat them right here and now. Theyre pretty amazing animals and I’m so happy you ended up in the progrma so you can see that.

*

My uncle’s coming to the family day. I’m sort of nervous, because yes he’s visited but he’s never seen me…like this. I’ve never had anything to be proud of to show him, except maybe when I played my guitar for him for the first time, I remember he smiled and told me how good it was even though I’m sure I fucked up a bunch of chords. Do you think Ozzy will be alright, with all the extra people around?

*

I think it will go just fine Eds. Ozzy might be nervous but we can work throuhg that on the day. I think your uncle will be really happy to see the progres you’ve been making.

*

Can you stay close, on the day?

*

Of course I’ll stay close.

*

Robin sat on Ozzy a few more times during the week. The mare was still skittish, but she was better if Eddie was there talking to her. She was, however, falling further and further behind the other mustangs, the others progressing to trot and canter with their inmates, some even able to go on short rides on the property outside the round pen.

Billy and Red were amongst those few. While Hargrove could be gruff and sometimes had to be reminded to take it easy with his horse, he worked hard at improving and it showed. He handled Red’s attitude well, Steve even catching a glimpse of a smile on his face as she pawed the ground and threw in the occasional buck when he asked her to do something she didn’t necessarily agree with. He seemed to like the fire in the mare, her spirited nature, and Steve wondered if perhaps she reminded him a little of his sister. He hadn’t spoken to Steve again since revealing he knew about their letters, much to Steve’s relief.

He planned to check in with Max this weekend. He’d have to choose his words carefully, knew the girl clammed up easily and would storm off or shut down completely if he picked the wrong time or the wrong words. Maybe he’d have a chat with Lucas too; he’d noticed the two of them drifting closer, maybe the boy would know if there was something going on in her homelife that required intervention.

For now, he just wished his damn cast was off so he could quite literally get back in the saddle. Ozzy’s saddle, to be specific, because he didn’t like leaving that unfinished.

But before that could happen, they had the family day to get through, and then they’d start slowly introducing the horses to stock work using the prison-owned property and cattle. Being well adapted to cows would be a big bonus for these mustangs when it came to auction time, and meant the local ranchers would hopefully turn up and be interested in purchasing a horse.

When the end of Friday rolled around, Steve found a rare moment where he could pass his letter to Eddie himself, rather than through Robin. Eddie and several others were breaking up hay bales and tossing them over the fence for the mustangs, and Steve hobbled his way over to them.

“Munson, can ya put some on the other side? Needa spread it out more, I’ll show ya where.”

Eddie grabbed an armload of hay and followed him as Steve led him to the opposite side of the paddock, taking a moment to pause and stretch out his forearms. After a whole day on them, the crutches left his muscles stiff and sore, and his wrists cracked as he rotated them.

“Here,” Steve said quietly, digging into his pocket and quickly handing him the letter folded up in his jean pocket.

Eddie pocketed it quickly, well-practised at this point. “Where do you want this?” he asked, nudging his foot at the hay he’d deposited in front of him.

“Just anywhere along the fence line,” Steve said, then lowered his voice. “I only did it to get ya over here, anyway.”

“Oh?” Eddie said, quirking an eyebrow, and tossed a slice of hay in Ozzy’s direction.

“Yeah. Thought you might be nervous ‘bout the family day on Monday still.”

Eddie nodded, throwing another slice. Steve made a show of pointing out where to put it for the sake of the inmates working across the paddock.

“I am a bit. What if I fuck up, and Wayne’s there to see? Or what if he just…doesn’t turn up?”

“You think he’d do that?”

“No,” Eddie admitted. “Not really. But he’d be justified in not, after all the shit I’ve done.”

“I think he’ll be there,” Steve said. “And I think he’ll be damn proud.”

“What if I mess up?”

“Focus on the horse. Don’t worry ‘bout the people watchin’, just forget they’re there. If you get nervous, well, I’ll be right there.”

“You promise?”

“Sure do.”

Eddie dished out the rest of the hay and turned back to Steve, who couldn’t supress a laugh.

“What?” Eddie huffed.

“Ya got hay all through your damn hair,” Steve chuckled. Some of Eddie’s long hair had worked loose from his bun during the day, and long strands of dry grass there stuck there.

Eddie ran his hands through his hair, frowning as he felt the hay, and slowly picked the bits out one by one. Steve longed for his own hands to replace Eddie’s; to tease the debris out much more gently than Eddie was doing, but he couldn’t.

Not here, not now.

Maybe one day, Steve told himself. Maybe Eddie would be throwing hay to Butterscotch and Scoops, to Cherry and Blue. Maybe Steve could watch from the window as he cooked them both dinner, with Dart winding around his feet and Eddie’s jacket hung up by the door.

Steve pictured the man working away under the setting sun, in a loose shirt and jeans, his skin tinged gold from long days spent outside on the ranch. He pictured his hands, the fingers still soft and dexterous unlike Steve’s own, pictured cradling them in his own as they sat on his porch and watched the sun fade away for the evening.

He wanted that. He wanted Eddie sharing his home, sharing his life.

But all of that would have to wait.

He tried to remind himself that it wasn’t necessarily what Eddie even wanted. Hell, he might just want to get the hell out of this area as soon as he was released, and Steve couldn’t blame him.

But he hoped with every fibre of his being that Eddie might be interested in making a home with Steve, wherever that might be.

For now, longing to be hand-in-hand with the man, Steve trailed at a safe distance behind him as they headed back in the direction of the prison bus at the end of another day.

Chapter Text

“Max, c’mere a second,” Steve waved the girl over. The kids were at his place to ride, and were currently gathered around Steve’s horses feeding them carrots after their lesson.

With a slight frown, Max approached Steve where he was standing in the barn entrance.

“If this is about the feed bin, Mike’s lying, I didn’t tip it on purpose!” she huffed.

Steve blinked a few times. “What feed bin?”

Max’s step faltered a little. “Oh…um, we accidentally spilt some stuff in the feed room. But we cleaned it up! It might just be a little messy still.”

Steve shook his head. “No, it ain’t ‘bout that.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “So….?”

Steve cleared his throat slightly, leant against the doorway, tried to make himself appear casual so he wouldn’t make her nervous. “I talked to your brother the other day.”

Max’s face lit up for a moment before she schooled it into something neutral again. She looked down at the ground when she spoke. “Is he…ok?”

“Yeah, he’s doin’ well. He was actually…worried ‘bout ya.”

Max’s head shot up. “Me? Why?”

“He didn’t really say. But he sorta suggested you might be havin’ some issues at home.” Steve kept his tone light, one eye still on the other kids. He could hear Dustin laughing from here.

“I dunno what you mean,” Max mumbled.

“Well, he mentioned your stepdad,” Steve continued gently. “What’s he like?”

Max scowled. “Well…I don’t like him. But who cares, I don’t think most people like their stepparents, right? He’s an asshole, but I just have to live with it.”

A small alarm bell started to ring in Steve’s head.

“How’s he an asshole?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

Max turned away. Steve thought for a moment she was going to march right back to her friends, and if she did, well – he wouldn’t stop her. Max needed to come to him in her own time, he knew that.

So he waited while Max hesitated in the entranceway, eyes occasionally darting, unsure, to Steve.

“He’s the reason Billy’s in prison.”

Steve nodded, staying quiet, hoping Max would continue.

She did. “My stepdad, he…he gets drunk. All the time. He yells at mom, and me if I’m around, so I stay in my room when he’s home. Sometimes he…breaks things. Puts holes in the holes.” Max’s voice started to hitch, and she frustratedly dragged a hand over her nose.

Steve inched closer to her, reached gently for her shoulder and kept a hand there. He knew a thing or two about angry father figures.

“Max,” he asked quietly. “Does he ever…hit you? Or your mom?”

Silent tears were starting to mark Max’s cheeks now. “Sometimes,” she whispered. “Well, not me. He hits mom sometimes. The one time he tried with me, Billy was there.”

She went quiet again, leaving Steve to fill in the blanks.

“Did Billy…intervene?” he guessed.

Max nodded. “He just lost it. Started hitting my stepdad, over and over and mom was screaming at him but he wouldn’t stop. Mom called the cops, Billy got taken away.”

Steve rubbed small circles on her shoulder. “Did your mom tell the police why Billy did it?”

Max’s face screwed up as fresh tears fell. “No. She said we couldn’t, because then my stepdad would be arrested too, and then we’d lose the house because we can’t afford to live there without his income and then we’d have to move again and I’d lose my friends and we’d have to start over somewhere new and I don’t want to, we’ve moved so much before and I like it here. Billy must’ve said something to the cops because they came around and spoke to mom again but she said it was lies, said Billy snapped and that it was all his fault and that my stepdad hadn’t done anything.”

The girl was sobbing now, and Steve crouched down, shielding her from the view of the other kids and wrapped his arms around her.

Max fell easily into him, her head finding his shoulder.

“Hey, take it easy, s’alright,” Steve murmured to her. “We’ll get this sorted, ok? I’ll help ya. I promise.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Max whined into Steve’s shirt.

“And you don’t have to, ok?”

“I hate him. And mom always defends him, I don’t understand, it’s not fair.”

Steve gently cupped her cheek with a hand, tipped her head back so he could look her in the eye. “Hey, look at me. It isn’t fair, you’re right. And it can’t continue, ok?”

“But my mom -”

“Is in a difficult situation. I know. But there’s people that can help, organizations your mom can talk to, ok? And I’ll help, however I can.”

After a moment, Max nodded.

“You’ve got my phone number, don’t ya? I want you to call me if your stepdad’s kickin’ off, ok? I’ll come get ya. And your mom, if she’ll come.”

“She won’t,” Max muttered.

“Well, the offer’s there anyway. But Max…you know the first step here is gonna be talkin’ to the police?”

Max stiffened at that. “I don’t like them.”

“I get that, I really do kid…but it’s gotta be done. When you’re ready, ok? And if your mom won’t agree to it, well…I’ll take ya. I’ll stay the whole time, if you want me to.”

Max looked up, searching Steve’s face for any trace of a lie. It made Steve’s heart clench as he wondered just how many times adults had lied to her in her short life so far.

“You will?”

“Uh huh. Promise.”

“It’s Family Day at your work tomorrow, right? Billy wrote to me about it.”

“Yeah.”

“I want to go. I can be his guest.”

“Sorry Max, you gotta be over eighteen.”

“But no one else will go, my mom’s down as his approved visitor but she never goes to see him. I kept asking her if I can go tomorrow, she agreed she’d drop me off there if I stopped bothering her about it.”

“Well, even if you were old enough, you gotta have security clearance and all sorts, Max.”

Max scoffed. “What do they think I’m gonna do?”

“That ain’t the point -”

“I really want to go. Can’t you talk to them?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t really have any say in it.”

Max’s shoulders slumped. “Fine.”

Steve tipped his head forward in defeat. He was too fucking soft for these kids. “Look, um…if your mom can get ya there, then maybe I can get them to let ya stay for a little bit, ok?”

Max smiled through her tears. “Thanks, Steve.”

“No problem.”

The girl turned to leave, then paused again. “I um…I could go after school. To the police station. On Wednesday, we finish a little earlier that day.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll get a lift to the school, meet ya there, ok? We can walk to the station together. Well…you walk, I’ll…hobble.”

“Don’t you have work?”

Steve shrugged. “They can let me off early for once. This is important.”

Max sniffed, shrugged, looked at the ground. “It’s not really.”

Steve brushed tears away from her cheeks. “It is, kid. And hey, afterwards we can go for ice cream, if you’re up to it. Ok?”

Max managed a tiny smile at that. “Can I get the expensive shit?”

Steve laughed. “Whatever ya want, it’s on me.”

“Even a USS Butterscotch?”

“Even a USS Butterscotch,” Steve agreed.

*****

“Hello, I’m a bit early, I think…I’m wondering if you might be able to tell me when my boy’ll get here?”

The middle-aged man had approached Steve by the round pen, looking a little anxious. His blue jeans were faded and well-worn, and there was a hole in the sleeve of his checked shirt.

“Eddie’s his name. Eddie Munson?” the man continued.

Oh.

Steve turned to him with a smile, dusting off a hand to extend it to the man. “Steve Harrington. I work with Eddie. He’ll be here soon, give it another fifteen minutes or so.”

Something flitted across the man’s face at the mention of Steve’s name.

“Wayne.” A calloused hand took Steve’s, shaking it firmly. “I’m Eddie’s uncle. Didn’t mean to get here so early, I just couldn’t stand sitting ‘round at home, I just…was looking forward to seeing him.”

Steve nodded. “S’ok, sir. You can watch us set up if you like.”

“Just Wayne’s fine.”

Steve dipped his head in acknowledgement, looking over to the paddock quickly to check the others were doing ok. Robin, Gareth, and Jeff were gathering the mustangs, haltering and preparing to lead them through to the pen. They hadn’t been expecting the inmates’ guests to show up for another hour or so, but Steve’s heart went out to the man who was shuffling from foot-to-foot by the fence, glancing to the road every now and then as if to see if Eddie was approaching yet.

Steve cleared his throat, adjusted the brim of his hat. “You know, Wayne, the guards won’t let ya talk to Eddie all that much, you’ll get some time at the end of the demonstrations but they’re pretty damn strict -”

“That’s alright,” Wayne cut in. “You’ve got yer rules, I know. It’s enough to just see him. He’s real special to me.”

And Steve felt a little warmer at that, felt himself relaxing next to the man as he started to drape saddle pads and bridles over the round pen fence.

“You know much about horses?” Steve questioned, just to make conversation.

“Ah, not so much,” Wayne said. “I work at the plant outta town. Never had much to do with them. Never thought Eddie would either.” He chuckled lightly at that.

“He’s good with them. One of the best, actually.”

Wayne’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You know, he writes to me a lot.” Wayne leant forward, elbows on the railing. “He used to tell me he wasn’t any good with the horses, that he was mucking everything up all the time. Told me about how he felt bad for causing someone to fall off.” Wayne glanced pointedly down at the cast visible at the bottom of Steve’s baggy jeans.

“Yeah, that was me,” Steve confirmed, a little sheepish. He lifted his hat, ran a hand through his hair, crammed the hat back on. “Wasn’t his fault, though. He was tryin’ to help.”

“He talks about you often. In his letters.”

Steve refocused on his task, tried not to appear too affected by that. “Oh?”

“All the time. Steve this, Steve that. Sounds like you’ve made quite an impression on him.”

Steve twisted a metal bit in his hands, scratched at a piece of dried grass stuck there. Eddie seemed to love his uncle, but Steve had no idea how much this man knew, or what his attitude might be towards any sort of relationship between his nephew and another man.

Steve knew just what his own father might think of it.

He paled, his heart starting to beat a little faster.

Finally, he opened his mouth to answer. “Wayne, I -”

Wayne lifted a placating hand. “Never said it was a bad thing, son. Eddie’s letters before he met you were…well. They were pretty dark. He wasn’t in a great head space, I can’t blame the kid, but…since he started this whole horse thing, since he met you, his letters changed. He sounded excited about stuff, about working with his horse. Ozzy, is it? And he was always writing about a man who didn’t judge him for nothing, who was patient and kind and always helped him.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed a little at that, and he tipped his head forward to hide below the brim of his hat a little.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on my boy, Steve,” Wayne finished.

And Steve…wasn’t sure just how to respond to that, wasn’t used to this sort of open honesty from another adult he barely knew.

So he nodded, hung the last bridle up on the fence, and waved a hand towards the paddock. “Ya see that black horse?”

Wayne squinted, eyes scanning the paddock and landing on where Robin was trying to quietly approach a suspicious-looking Ozzy.

“The one looking all crazy?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, that’s the one. It’s Ozzy.”

Wayne smiled. “Makes sense. Eddie always liked wild things.”

Steve would’ve liked to talk to the man for longer, but the mustangs were beginning to be led into the round pen now, and his attention was needed elsewhere. But the bus arrived not long after, and Steve didn’t miss the way Wayne took off his cap and watched the prisoners disembark one by one, his face lighting up and his hand held up in a wave when Eddie finally hopped down the steps.

Eddie smiled and gave a small wave back, eyes darting to Steve briefly before he fell into line with the others and went where Hopper directed them.

By the time other guests began to arrive, the inmates had their mustangs brushed and saddled. Steve had hovered close to Eddie and Ozzy, picking up on Eddie’s nervous energy. He kept looking back towards where Wayne had been directed to the designated area for the guests – sitting in the front row where some chairs had been temporarily set up, several extra prison guards overlooking the area today.

Steve smiled a little grimly when he saw a shock of red hair, a familiar figure slamming a car door shut in the parking lot. The beat-up sedan rolled away soon after, Steve getting a glimpse of Max’s mom in the driver’s seat.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Steve murmured to Eddie, grabbing his crutches and making his way towards Max who was looking a little lost amongst the inmates and guards.

Hopper was already with her by the time Steve arrived, crouched down in front of her.

“You can’t be here, kid,” Hopper was telling her. “Gotta be over eighteen.”

Max shook her head, stood her ground. “I’m here to see my brother. Billy Hargrove. I’m his guest.”

Hopper sighed, tugging a piece of paper from his back pocket and scanning the names scribbled there. “It says Ms Mayfield here.”

“Yup. That’s me. Max Mayfield.”

“Listen, miss -”

“S’alright, Hop,” Steve intervened. “Max is with me. I’ll watch her.”

Hopper gave a weary look between the two of them, before finally caving. “Fine. But she doesn’t leave your sight,” Hopper emphasized. “And you can’t talk to Billy, I’m sorry kid, but that’s where I draw the line. You can stand with Steve and watch.”

Max nodded, accepting her lot. Steve beckoned for her to follow as he headed back towards the round pen, Hopper striding off in the opposite direction.

As they slowly walked, Steve turned to the girl.

“You stick with me,” he said firmly. “You listen to what I say, and don’t argue, ok?”

Max nodded quietly.

Steve relaxed a little. “Ok. Here, ya can hop up on the railing here.” He propped one of his crutches against the fence and held out a hand to the girl. “There ya go. Put your feet there, that’s it. Now ya can see.”

Max balanced with her feet on the middle railing, leaning over the top of the fence.

Eddie looked up from where he was standing with Ozzy, throwing a confused look between Max and Steve.

“Hi,” Max said loudly.

“Uh…hi,” Eddie answered, and quickly turned his attention back to the horse.

“Are you gonna ride that one?” Max asked him.

“No. She’s not as quiet as the others.”

“What’s her name?”

“Ozzy.”

“That’s cool. Do you know my brother? Billy?”

“Max,” Steve interjected. “Let him focus on what he’s doin’, ok?”

“Just making conversation,” Max mumbled, but she quietened down, content to scan the crowd for her brother instead.

Billy was at the opposite end of the round pen, already seated on Red with Robin beside him giving some instructions.

At a signal from Robin, Steve limped his way over to stand in front of the seated guests. He took his hat off, wiped at his face briefly. He always got nervous in front of a crowd like this, but he’d drawn lots with Robin, Gareth and Jeff on Friday and pulled the short straw – it was his turn to give the speech.

He cleared his throat and began to talk.

“I wanna thank y’all for comin’ today, it means a lot to us and to the men you’re here to see. They’ve all worked hard to get where they are today, it sure hasn’t been easy sometimes but everyone here has put a hell of a lotta effort in. A few weeks ago, these mustangs were completely wild. They ain’t the easiest animals to work with, somethin’ we’re frequently reminded of.” He gestured down to his injured leg, receiving a few chuckles from the crowd. “But with a bit of patience and time, they’ve come a long way, and in a few more weeks they’ll be ready to be auctioned into good homes. The fact that they even have that chance is thanks to these men in front of you. We’re gonna show you some of what we’ve been workin’ on, and ah…hopefully it all goes smoothly.” He finished with a sheepish smile, and returned to his position at the round pen fence.

Robin took over from there, explaining to the guests what was happening as one of the inmates demonstrated saddling his mustang and going through some ground work.

The ridden work was next, Billy making quite an impression on the crowd as he loped Red easily around the round pen. Max grinned at Steve proudly, and snuck in a small wave towards her brother as he passed them.

Billy’s face lit up in a way Steve hadn’t seen before as he met Max’s gaze and smiled back at her.

Steve wished he could let the two of them talk just for a short time, but the guards were watching like hawks today. This was as close as he could get the two of them.

A little while later, it was Eddie’s turn for his demonstration. Steve stood as close to Ozzy as the mare would tolerate as Eddie anxiously brushed her one last time, her dark coat gleaming in the sun.

“She’s ready, Eds,” Steve whispered to him.

Eddie paused, nodded nervously, and untied the mare.

“This is Ozzy,” Robin was telling the guests. “And she’s been more challenging than the other horses. Munson has been working with her, and she’s made a lot of progress, but she’s not ready for ridden work just yet, so Munson will show you some ground work instead.”

“Why’s she not ready yet?” one of the guests piped up.

“Well, the horses are all different. Just like people,” Robin explained. “Some take longer than others to settle into a new life. Imagine you’d been taken from your home and family and put behind a fence for the first time – that’s what these horses have to deal with, and we do our best to help them adjust in their own time.”

Eddie threw another nervous look back at Steve. From his spot at the fence, Steve flashed him a small thumbs up.

“You got it,” he mouthed.

And Eddie did.

Although Ozzy was wary about all the extra people and noise nearby, the mare did everything Eddie asked of her. He sent her around him in circles, ran her through three different paces, backed her up and moved her sideways, picked up her feet and swung the rope over his head, demonstrating her ability to stay still.

Despite the distractions, Ozzy kept her focus on Eddie the entire time. She danced around him, sunlight skittering off her shiny coat, her neck arched almost proudly. When Eddie reached out to pat her, her eyes would soften, and she’d press her nose into his touch.

Steve couldn’t keep the grin off his face the whole time, and he saw Wayne watching proudly from his seat too.

“They’re good,” Max whispered to Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, they sure are.”

When the demonstration came to an end, the crowd clapped, Wayne giving a standing ovation. Eddie’s cheeks flushed and he dipped his head, but he couldn’t stop smiling, patting Ozzy as he led her back towards Steve.

“Well done,” Steve told him, swinging open the gate for him to pass through. “That was perfect.”

“You think?” Eddie asked breathlessly. “I think we sorta fucked up when I asked her to change directions once.”

Steve flapped a hand at him. “Nah, not at all. Ya did great.”

Eddie’s smile spread further. “Thanks, Steve.”

His lips were chapped from the dry air, and his hands were covered in dust from brushing Ozzy, the skin roughened now from weeks of working with ropes. There was sweat on his face, his cheeks were tinged pink from the sun, and his eyes were shining.

Steve wanted to kiss him.

Instead, he let their hands brush ever-so-slightly as Eddie led Ozzy past him, heading in the direction of the paddock.

Once Eddie was out of earshot, Max looked smugly up at Steve.

“What?” Steve asked her, still gazing after Eddie.

Max waggled her eyebrows. “You love him.”

“Huh?”

“Dustin was right, oh my god, he said you wouldn’t shut up about him. You kept asking him stuff about D&D, you hate D&D…”

Steve rolled his eyes.

Dustin, you little shit.

“Listen, Max…” Steve stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. There was no point even denying it at this point, but no one else needed to hear. “Ya can’t…tell anyone, ok?”

“Oh my god, chill,” Max whispered. “I won’t, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you.”

“This does mean you’re not allowed to tease me and Lucas, though.”

Steve smirked at her, not unkindly. “So it’s true, then?”

Max blushed slightly. “Maybe.”

“I knew it.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did!” Steve laughed. “It’s cute.”

Max screwed up her face. “Don’t say it like that.”

“What? It’s true! You guys are adorable.”

Max’s fist smacked into Steve’s shoulder with surprising force.

“Ow! Hey, ya can’t do that, I’m injured.”

“Oh please, you can’t use that excuse forever.”

Steve laughed, adjusting his position where he was leaning over the railing.

Later he’d watch from a distance, helping unsaddle horses as Eddie got his allocated time talking with Wayne. He’d watch as the two clearly longed to reach out to one another, Eddie’s hand twitching at his side, held back by the firm ‘no touching’ policy that the guards were strictly enforcing between guests and inmates. He’d watch as Eddie spoke animatedly to his uncle, gesturing towards Ozzy in the paddock with a grin, eyes locking briefly with Steve’s. And then he’d turn his attention back to the horses, back to Robin who was chatting away beside him about the day.

But for now, he stood next to Max who was perched on the fence, and happily let himself be at the mercy of her teasing. If it made the girl smile for a short time, well, Steve was quite happy.

Chapter Text

Max

2039 – Thanks for today.

Steve smiled down at his phone, sipping his beer and placing it down on the coffee table to tap out a reply.

2041 – no problem. you doing ok?

2043 – Yeah

2044 – you sure

2046 – Yeah I’m just…nervous for when mom finds out.

2048 – I get it, I do. itll be ok tho, I can come round and sit with you when the cops come, if you like

2049 – Will you?

2050 – sure

2052 – I’m scared for when they talk to Neil.

2054 – they said they’d come talk to your mom while he’s at work first, right? im sure they’ll put somethign in place before he gets back so he cant bother you.

2055 – I hope so.

2057 – it’ll be ok, Max. Im proud of you for today, you did well.

2058 - 😊

2100 – now get your ass to bed, you got school tomorrow.

2102 – Fine, DAD

Steve smirked, huffed out half a laugh, then put his phone down.

He’d spent that afternoon with Max at the local police station, sitting next to her while she spoke nervously to Chief Powell about what had been going on at home. Max had been pale, looking anywhere other than the officer sitting across from her while she spoke, but she answered his questions and spoke honestly about the abuse that had been coming from her stepfather, about the difficulties her mom was facing with her finances and the fact that she was so reliant on Neil.

Afterwards, he’d taken the girl to Scoops Ahoy, watched as the tension slowly drained from her over a heaped bowl of vanilla ice cream and butterscotch sauce.

Chief Powell had explained to Max that they needed to talk to her mom as well, that they’d like to do it while Neil was out so she could speak freely with them. Max had reluctantly agreed and told them her stepfather’s work schedule, and requested they come around after school so she could be there, too.

Steve was more than happy to go along as a support person for Max, if that was what she wanted.

He finished his beer. Set the empty bottle aside, didn’t even contemplate grabbing another as he once would’ve, not so long ago.

The old Steve would’ve sunk a six pack on a work night easily, sought out anything that helped lull him into unconsciousness and get through the night.

But now, Steve found himself reaching for another bottle less and less. He was often busy with Dustin after work, the kid helping more and more due to Steve’s still-limited mobility, and he’d stay for dinner every now and then too. Because of that, Steve had started putting more effort into meals again, cooking simple dinners from scratch to share with the kid. And when Dustin wasn’t around, well, Steve would ring Robin, or even Chrissy sometimes.

And every night, he’d write out another letter for Eddie.

He felt…nearly whole again. His house was still too quiet, too empty, and he’d always crave the presence of someone else sharing it with him, but until then, he was happy with his lot.

On that Wednesday night, while getting ready for bed, Steve realized he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d thought about Nancy.

*****

The next two weeks passed too slowly for Steve’s liking.

He wanted his damn cast off. His leg was itchy underneath it, it was awkward and cumbersome and he just wanted to ride again.

The inmates had started some very basic work with the cattle grazing on the prison-owned land. Robin, Gareth, and Jeff had demonstrated herding, cutting, and roping as best they could, but none of them had as much experience as Steve did. For the most part, it was just about getting the mustangs used to the presence of the other animals, anyway.

But Ozzy took to the work like a duck to water.

Robin was still riding her carefully, but the mare was only happy with Eddie walking alongside her.

Once they herded a few cows into the round pen with her, Ozzy took an interest in the animals. Most of the mustangs were frightened at first, but Ozzy marched herself right up to them, snaking her head down low and pushing them to and fro.

“Natural little cow horse,” Steve had commented to Eddie, eyebrows raised.

Eddie had smiled at that. “So that means she’ll do well at the auction, right? Someone’ll want her?”

“Definitely helps,” Steve had agreed.

Truth be told, he was a little concerned about Ozzy’s future. The auction was only a few weeks away now – they only had a short time left to get Ozzy ready for her next home. The mare was slowly adjusting to ridden work, but she was too attached to Eddie – fretting when he left the round pen, ignoring Robin’s cues in favour of just following her inmate around the pen. She looked stunning, and her keen interest in the cows was a bonus for any ranchers, but they had a long way to go before she could land herself in a decent home.

Finally, the day came for Steve’s cast to be removed. Robin drove him to the hospital, sat with him while the nurse removed it and sternly gave him instructions for his follow-up care.

“You’re to take it easy,” she said to him, fixing him with a firm look that rivalled Steve’s old school principal. “No running, no climbing, no heavy lifting until you’re finished with your physio sessions. Understand?”

Steve nodded.

The nurse narrowed her eyes. “You sure?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve replied quickly.

She shook her head briefly, muttered something about damn cowboys under her breath, and left the room.

Steve gave an experimental swing of his liberated leg, reaching down to poke at it happily.

“So, you heard the nurse, right?” Robin checked.

“Uh huh.”

“So no riding yet.”

“She didn’t actually say no ridin’.”

“It was implied, dingus.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Robin snorted. “You? Careful?”

“I’ll jump on Scoops tonight and see how that goes before I get on Ozzy.”

Robin gave a frustrated huff. “Seriously? You’re just gonna…jump back on her?”

“Sure. You’ve been doin’ great work with her, I think she’s ready.”

“No stopping you, is there?” Robin said eventually.

“Nope,” Steve replied, popping the ‘p’. “Now, can we get outta here? I’m excited to actually walk to the car.”

His walk was…more of a shuffle, as he slowly got used to putting all his weight on both his legs again. He still had his crutches, was still supposed to used them if his leg got sore, but Steve was over the moon to just be able to walk even a short distance unaided again.

The following day, he greeted Eddie with the widest grin he could get away with.

“You got your cast off!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Yep, it’s good as new,” Steve said, holding his leg out as if to demonstrate. “Time to get back on Ozzy, I think.”

Eddie gave a nervous glance between Steve and the aforementioned horse. “You sure?”

“Uh huh. As long as you’re nearby, I think it’ll be fine.”

As he slipped past Eddie and into the round pen, he subtly pressed his latest letter into Eddie’s hand.

“Can ya bring her in, get her saddled?” he asked as Eddie stuffed it in his pocket.

Eddie nodded, busying himself with his task while Steve stretched his leg out. It twinged slightly, but nothing too serious – and he’d been fine when going for a test ride on Scoops last night, too.

“I’m staying in here while you ride,” Robin told him firmly, approaching from the fence.

“Robs -”

“Nope. We’re not having a repeat of last time.”

“It’ll be fine!”

“I am this close to clipping a lead rope on her while you ride, Steve,” Robin said, holding up her thumb and index finger a smidgen apart.

Steve rolled his eyes, ever fond, and waited while Eddie got Ozzy ready.

Slowly, he approached the horse. Ozzy fixed him with a wide eye, pawing hard at the ground.

“Hey, you’re ok,” Eddie murmured to her. “It’s just Steve, he’s alright, I promise.”

“Just alright am I, Eds?” Steve teased, voice only loud enough for Eddie to hear over the activity around them. The other inmates were with Gareth and Jeff working with the cows in the next pen over.

Eddie gave a small chuckle, patted Ozzy’s neck, quietened the mare enough for Steve to get a foot in the stirrup.

Steve gripped the top of the saddle, reins in one hand atop the horn as Ozzy sidestepped. He hopped along with her, keeping his balance as she scuttled and crab-walked away from him.

“Steve -” Robin started nervously.

He shook his head. “It’s fine, just give her a minute.”

He wanted to work with this horse. He needed to get her through this anxiousness, get her up to speed with the rest of the mustangs before the auction. And call it stubbornness, even a hint of arrogance perhaps, but Steve didn’t like leaving things unfinished. He wanted to get back in the saddle, show Ozzy that it was ok, that they could work together and that he was safe.

But all he was sensing from Ozzy right now was stress.

He could’ve barrelled on through that, could’ve swung up into the saddle and done his best to battle blindly through any resistance she put up.

The Steve from a few months ago, the Steve that drunk himself to sleep and slammed his fist into the barn wall in frustration and let the dishes stack up and took himself to the middle of his paddock just to scream sometimes might’ve, probably would’ve.

But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eddie’s thumb stroking slowly over Ozzy’s nose, faintly heard the man whispering gently, trying to calm the mare down.

Steve took his foot out of the stirrup slowly. Stepped back a few paces, watched as Robin’s shoulders slumped a little in relief.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked him, confused.

“Nothin’,” Steve said. “Just, I don’t think I’m the right person to do this.”

“I’ll ride her,” Robin piped up, stepping forward, but Steve held out a hand to stop her.

“No, I think we should try somethin’ else.”

Robin had made good progress with Ozzy, Steve knew. But there was only so much they could do with Eddie walking beside the mare keeping her calm.

It was time for something different.

He unbuckled his helmet, held it out to Eddie.

The inmate eyed it nervously, then looked to Steve.

“You serious?”

“Very.”

Steve watched a myriad of emotions play across Eddie’s face.

“But…what if she throws me off?”

“She won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

“Steve…is this a good idea?” Robin asked quietly.

Steve nodded. “We’ve gotta try. I won’t force ya, Eds, but I really think it’s time.”

Eddie took the helmet, turned it in his hands a few times, chewed his lower lip. “You’ll stay? Nearby?”

“As close as she’ll let me,” Steve confirmed.

Eddie took a slow breath in. “Ok,” he said resolutely. “I’ll do it.”

Keeping a grip on the reins, Steve bent down slightly, cupping a hand. Eddie reached for the top of the saddle, lifted his foot so that Steve could grip his ankle to give him a leg-up. Steve squeezed his leg gently, tried to convey what encouragement he could through that minimal touch. Wished he could do more, wished he could run a hand across Eddie’s back, murmur in his ear, kiss the chapped lips Eddie’s tongue kept darting out to wet.

“It’s just me, Ozzy,” Eddie cooed to the horse. “You’re fine.”

Steve boosted him up with minimal effort, helping the man get his feet in the stirrups quickly.

Steve held his breath for a moment, poised to intervene if he needed to.

Eddie swallowed audibly, waited, ran his hand across Ozzy’s withers. “Easy girl, we’re ok, huh?”

Ozzy stood firm. Didn’t scuttle under Eddie’s weight, didn’t throw her head up, didn’t immediately try to dislodge him. Her ears flicked backwards as Eddie spoke, listening to him calmly.

Steve stood to one side, giving them as much space as he dared.

“Feelin’ ok up there?” he asked Eddie.

Eddie nodded. “I think she’s ok. She seem ok to you?”

“Sure does.” Steve took another step back, and Ozzy didn’t look his way. “You want to try a short walk?”

“Yeah, but…can you come?”

“Sure. I’ll stay back a little though, don’t want to piss her off.” His tone was light, but Steve meant what he said. The horse obviously wasn’t all that keen on him after their last mishap, and Steve understood that. They’d work through it, in time. But for now, all that mattered was both Eddie and Ozzy staying safe.

Eddie guided the mare in a small circle. Ozzy went happily, head low, quietly following Eddie’s soft hands on the reins.

Steve looked over at Robin. The two shared a smile, quiet and knowing.

Eddie stopped Ozzy by the fence.

“I’m gonna step out, Eddie. You keep goin’,” Steve told him.

Eddie paled a little. “Wait, I dunno if I’m ready -”

“You are,” Steve said, assured.

Eddie sat back a little more in the saddle, reached down to pat Ozzy’s neck, smiled as the mare sighed and relaxed even further.

“See?” Steve smiled. “You don’t need me anymore.”

Eddie looked up. Caught Steve’s eye, his face earnest. “I do,” he whispered.

Steve shook his head. “Not for this. I’ll be just on the other side of the fence, ok? Ya got this.”

Eddie shared a long look with Steve, before he adjusted the reins in his hands and nodded. Steve stepped back through the gate, closing it behind him and leaning up alongside Robin.

Eddie continued to circle Ozzy around. He kept his hands still, not interfering with her, just letting her wander quietly.

Steve watched, uncaring about the sun beating down on his neck, quietly taking his hat when Robin handed it over.

“Try a trot,” Steve encouraged Eddie.

The inmate touched his heels to Ozzy’s sides and she picked up her pace, trotting smoothly, Eddie grabbing the horn with one hand to stay steady, a small laugh wrenched from him.

Steve grinned as man and horse passed him.

Eddie had gone from a shy, quiet thing, pale and battered and bruised, nervous and quick to lash out or clam up when angry to something…well, like this.

Loose and relaxed, his smiles coming easily, skin kissed by the sun, hands strong and steady. Without being prompted, he urged Ozzy gently forward into a slow lope, bouncing around a little in the saddle but it didn’t matter, he’d get there, Steve would teach him everything, would show him how to better move with the horse, to balance himself in the saddle and grip with his thighs and…

Steve would show him everything.

“He’s doing so well,” Robin said quietly to Steve.

“He is,” Steve agreed.

“I just hope…well, I hope we can get Ozzy to behave like that with everyone, she’s going to need to for the auction.”

“Hmmm.” Steve hummed, non-committedly.

Because as he watched Ozzy and Eddie happily make their way around the round pen, an idea was starting to build in the back of his mind.

And maybe he was being too forward, too presumptuous, and he’d have to somehow get Dustin here to try and meet the horse to see if, by some miracle, Ozzy would tolerate a teenager but…he had an idea to maybe kill two birds with one stone.

Keep both the man he was in love with and his surrogate little brother happy.

He needed to talk to Eddie before he did anything, though, try to gauge his plans for when his sentence finished, if he planned on sticking around here or getting the hell out of dodge.

“Look at her!” Robin nudged his shoulder, pulling Steve from his thoughts and gesturing at Ozzy.

The mare had spotted the cows in the next pen over, had stopped in front of them to eye them with interest.

“Hey, Gareth!” Steve called out to the man, waving to get his attention and pointing to the cattle. “Can ya push a couple of them through? Give Ozzy somethin’ to work with?”

Gareth did as he was asked, opening the chute into the round pen and shooing a couple of small brown cows through.

“What do I do?” Eddie asked, looking a little nervous again.

“Try single one of ‘em out, like you’ve practiced on Brownie,” Steve told him.

Eddie had done this before, on one of Tommy’s exiled buddy’s mustangs. That horse hadn’t had a natural knack for cutting cows, not like Steve knew Ozzy did.

Eddie tried to point Ozzy towards one of the cows, but she was already moving. She strode into the group, nipped at the butt of a cow when it didn’t move, squared up to it and faced it when it tried to barrel through back to its friends.

“Give her the reins, and hang on,” Steve cupped his hands around his mouth and called to Eddie.

Eddie practically threw the reins down, and that wasn’t quite what Steve had meant but never mind. He hung on to the horn as Ozzy moved of her own accord under him, shifting left and right to block the cow, keeping it tucked in one spot and separated from the group.

“She can really cut,” Robin commented.

“Eddie, try move the cow to the other side of the pen,” Steve suggested.

Eddie directed Ozzy around the cow, the mare having her own opinion about that and tossing her head briefly, deciding for herself where to put her feet in order to guide the cow to the centre of the pen.

Eddie chuckled, let Ozzy have her way, and successfully shifted the cow.

Not happy with being singled out, the cow exhaled loudly and lumbered sideways.

Ozzy darted to cut it off, Eddie lurching to one side but recovering quickly after the sudden movement.

Steve grinned. “Try an’ move with her,” he advised, “she knows what she’s doin’.”

Something must have clicked for Eddie, because before too long he and the mare were moving as one. They kept that cow separated for as long as Steve asked them to, Ozzy cutting it off at every turn, until the cow was out of breath and standing calmly off to one side, admitting defeat to the agile horse.

“Ok, let it go, Eds,” Steve instructed, immediately kicking himself internally at the loud use of the nickname.

Robin elbowed him in the ribs sharply, and Gareth’s head appeared over the top of the neighbouring fence, giving Steve a funny look. But as Steve’s heart hammered away, as he’d been ready to splutter out some sort of explanation, Gareth just shook his head fondly and turned back to whatever he was doing.

He knew. Steve thought back to Gareth suggesting he and Eddie put away the feed bags that day in the shed - the day Steve still thought so often about – the small smile on Gareth’s face, the way he’d all but winked at him as he sent Steve on his way.

Steve had wondered, had questioned how he and Eddie had gotten away with so much so far, how no one had noticed the longing gazes, the extra time Steve spent with Eddie and Ozzy, the letter-passing and lingering touches and closeness between the two of them.

Turns out, they had, he supposed.

Luckily for him, they didn’t appear to care too much.

With the cow reunited with its friends, Eddie hopped down from Ozzy, led the mare back towards the fence.

“That was…pretty fun,” he told Steve, cheeks flushed from exertion, from excitement.

“You two were damn good at that,” Steve said proudly. “I reckon Benny’ll be happy to have ya for the cattle drive.”

Eddie smiled wider. “You think?”

“Definitely. Ozzy’s the best cow horse here, and you handle her better than anyone.”

“I’m looking forward to it, then.” Eddie brushed a hand over the back of his neck. “Nice to be away from fences for a bit, you know?”

Steve glanced towards the edge of the property, at the towering fence that surrounded the compound, topped with a roll of barbed wire. The area was big, but it was still prison-owned, still an oversized cage, really.

Next week was Benny’s cattle drive.

The man had an enormous ranch a short drive away, ran a large amount of cattle there. He used to work with the mustang program, was well-affiliated with the prison, and a couple of times a year he reached out for some help shifting his cows across his property in what would be a two-day job. Several inmates and their mustangs were selected from the program for the job, and they were expected to work alongside the staff.

At first, there’d been concerns around security. Benny’s place wasn’t surrounded by high fences, and sure the prison guards followed a short distance behind the horses in vehicles where the terrain allowed, but it would take them some time to intervene should one of the inmates decide to flee…

But in the history of the inmates working with Benny, they’d never had a runaway. The inmates selected had to have proved themselves during the mustang program, had to have the trust of the workers and have made enough progress with their mustangs for it to even be feasible, and that was after the prison itself decided they’d behaved themselves during their sentence and approved them to be considered.

Plus, at this point, no one wanted to be dropped from the program, not when they were so close to finishing, to achieving something worthwhile.

Steve thought there was no one on the program as deserving as Eddie to come along.

He wasn’t sure how he’d keep his hands off him in the glow of the campfire, how he’d drag his eyes away when Eddie was stretched out on his bed roll under the moonlight, how he’d contain himself when he’d fallen head over heels in love with the man but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Looking forward to playing with some cows, Ozzy?” Eddie asked the mare, scratching at her forehead.

Ozzy snorted, butted her head lightly against his chest.

Eddie laughed, and Steve fell further.

Chapter Text

Steve loved Benny’s ranch.

The wide-open space, the rolling hills, the riverbed with just a weak flow of sun-warmed water trickling down it. He loved the unimpeded blue sky above, the crunch of scorched grass underfoot, the smell of leather tack and horses and dirt.

He nudged his heels to Butterscotch’s sides, the horse snorting as he picked up the pace behind the cows.

Eddie was off to his left on Ozzy, and he hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d arrived, staring at the ranch around him with a look of wonder.

Billy was there on Red on the opposite side of the herd to Steve, along with a few other inmates plus Gareth and Jeff. Robin was close to Steve, urging a fairly uninterested Cherry along. Benny was bringing up the rear on his own horse, a few of his ranch hands spaced out around the herd.

Somewhere far behind them, Hopper and Dmitri were tailing them in the four-wheel drive, keeping in close radio contact with Benny.

But Steve knew, despite that, this was the closest these inmates had come to anything resembling freedom for a long time.

“I spoke to Chrissy the other day,” Robin said, bringing Cherry up alongside Steve.

Steve tore his eyes from Eddie, glanced over to his friend. “Oh?”

“Yeah. She mentioned she was looking for some roommates, she’s got a spare bedroom and needs some help with her mortgage. She wasn’t planning on charging too much, and I thought…”

“…Max,” Steve finished.

“Yeah. And her mom.”

He nodded slowly, thinking it over.

The police had visited Max’s place two days ago. Steve had sat with her, had left the room for a bit when her mom spoke to them alone, had quietly placed a casserole he’d made the night before into their fridge and washed the stack of dirty dishes in their sink.

Neil Hargrove had been arrested at his workplace the very same day.

Susan Mayfield had broken down on her couch, had hugged her daughter close and told officers Powell and Callahan everything. She’d shown them the bruises spread up her arms, the holes he’d punched through the drywall in their bedroom, had even offered to write up a statement for the courts about what had really happened with Billy the night he’d been taken away by police.

But the reality was, without Neil, they couldn’t keep the house they were living in, couldn’t afford the rent.

Susan had cried when the officers left that afternoon. Had held Max close and whispered apology after apology, and Max had caught Steve’s eye as he hovered awkwardly in the doorway, mouthed a thank you over her mom’s shoulder.

Steve had left, determined to find some sort of solution for their housing situation.

He’d offer up a room in his own house, but it was a fairly long drive from town, and Susan would have to find a job now - it wouldn’t be feasible for her to go back and forth and waste all that money on gas, and the school bus wouldn’t come out that far to pick Max up each day.

He’d asked Robin for help, in the end. Hadn’t wanted to go blabbing about Max and Susan’s situation to anyone, but Robin was half his soul and he knew she wouldn’t tell anyone else. The whole area had heard about Neil’s arrest, anyway – once Doris Driscoll had caught wind of it, the cat had truly been out of the bag.

Chrissy lived just outside town, worked as a P.E teacher at the school. She’d know Max from there, Steve figured, and maybe…maybe it would work. A domestic violence victim and her teenage daughter maybe hadn’t been what she’d had in mind when looking for roommates, but perhaps…

Steve would talk to them all, after the cattle drive. See if there was a solution there.

“Might work,” Steve said eventually, “they could certainly do worse than Chrissy’s place.”

Robin nodded, then looked over to their left. “Hey, Eddie’s doing pretty well over there.”

Steve dipped his head, couldn’t help the small flush in his cheeks. “Yeah, he is.”

“Buuuuut…” Robin grinned, eyes shining, “see how that left flank is getting behind a little? Maybe you should go over there, give him some tips.”

Steve returned her grin, would’ve hugged her if he could – there was barely anything wrong with that left flank, but he caught her drift immediately.

Without another word, he reined Butterscotch over, clicked his tongue and urged him into a lope towards Eddie.

“Hey, Steve,” Eddie greeted him as he approached.

“Hey Eds. How’s it goin’ over here?”

“Great, I think. This is…really cool.” Eddie gestured around at the view. “Is this what you get to do, when you’re not working in the program?”

“Sometimes I’ll join in on cattle drives if anyone in the area needs help. Depends on the time of year, too. I used to do this pretty much full time.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“I love it. Ozzy does too, I think.” He looked down at his mare, smiled at the way she was fixated on the cow directly ahead of her.

“This is her callin’, I think,” Steve agreed. “But hey, ya might not love it so much tonight, when your ass is achin’, or tomorrow when ya can barely walk from ridin’ so much.”

Eddie laughed, then shrugged. “Worth it.”

“Yeah, guess it is.”

Steve looked over him, let his eyes run slowly over the man, allowed himself that much – there were at least a hundred cows between them and the nearest other worker, after all. Eddie was still clad in that damn orange jumpsuit, and Steve would’ve killed to see him in a pair of jeans and a loose shirt like the ones he had on. It made sense for them to remain in their prison uniforms, it’d be easier to spot them in the event any of the inmates did decide to take off, but Steve thought he’d curse the colour orange for a long time to come.

But despite that, Eddie looked happy, relaxed in the saddle as Ozzy picked her way steadily across the terrain, occasionally turning her head and staring out into the distance at something, some unknown sight or sound that escaped their duller human senses.

“Think she misses it? Her home, the wild?” Eddie asked.

Hoofbeats sounded in the dirt. Butterscotch sighed heavily below Steve, fell into step beside Ozzy. Steve kept a close eye on the horses, knew Ozzy had been touchy around the other mustangs, but the two seemed quite content together.

“I think a part of her always will,” Steve said quietly. “It’s a hell of a thing, bein’ ripped from your home like that. But she fell on her feet, Eds, with you bein’ in this program n’ all.”

“I’m gonna miss her. After the auction.”

“I’ll make sure she goes somewhere good.”

“I know. Just…I won’t see her again. She’ll be out there somewhere, hopefully happy, and I’ll still be in that fucking cell, and I won’t even have the program to look forward to anymore.”

Steve nudged Butterscotch a little closer, reached across to briefly touch Eddie’s arm as the man slumped a bit in his saddle. He couldn’t tell him yet, couldn’t explain that he was working on a plan for Ozzy, because nothing was finalized yet and he wasn’t sure he could come up with the money if the bidding went too high, didn’t want to give Eddie hope if he was only going to be let down later.

“I’ll visit ya,” Steve said, “once the program’s finished, there’s nothin’ stoppin’ me.”

That was a promise he could safely make.

Eddie glanced up, more hopeful now. “I’d like that.”

“And we can still write. Every day, if ya want. Maybe you can even call me, although I know you’ll probably wanna use your phone privileges to call your uncle, but -”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupted softly, “of course I’ll call.”

Steve fiddled with the end of the rein in his hand, letting the leather slip over calloused fingers, sent several nervous looks towards Eddie before getting up the courage to clear his throat and ask, “Do ya have plans? For…when ya get out?”

Eddie gave him a sidelong glance. Somewhere ahead of them, a cow coughed loudly, a small cloud of dust rising from cloven hooves.

“I figured I’d move in with Wayne for a bit. See what happens. Try and get some work, I guess, but I’m not sure anyone’ll hire me.” He barked out a short laugh.

“Ya know, I got a big house,” Steve started, kicking himself because that wasn’t really how he’d meant the sentence to go.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Steve nodded, had to run with it now. “Yep. Big ol’ empty house, apart from me n’ Dart. It’s real quiet.”

A small smile graced Eddie’s lips, his eyes soft. “And do you like it quiet, Stevie?”

Steve nearly choked on his next word, emotion rising up.

“No.”

“You want me to come make it a little less quiet?”

Steve looked down at his hands, swallowed thick, blinked because his eyes were suddenly wet and when the hell had that happened?

“Yeah. I’d really like that.”

Eddie reached over, brushed his fingertips across Steve’s forearm, lingered as long as he dared. “I’d like that, too.”

Steve only had a moment to revel in that, to bask in the warmth building the two of them before there was a shout from up ahead.

His head shot up, searching for the source.

A flash of red and orange on the other side of the herd, a mustang galloping at full tilt towards the hills.

“Stay here,” Steve told Eddie, and then he spun Butterscotch around, kicked the horse urgently into a fast pace.

“Steve, it’s Billy!” Robin yelled as he passed her, doing her best to hurry Cherry along, but the older mare wasn’t quick enough.

“Keep the herd goin’ forward!” Steve barked out as he thundered past her, his eyes locked on the chestnut mare far ahead of him, on the man urging her faster, faster.

One of the ranch hands was in pursuit of him also, but his horse wasn’t quick enough, and Steve overtook and waved him back to the cattle.

“I got him!” he yelled to the man, then he was leaning low over Butterscotch’s neck, and all he felt was the wind.

Red was fast, the little mare’s legs moving furiously, and she had a good head start on them. But Billy was still a novice rider, and Steve could see the way he was bouncing around in the saddle even from here.

Steve moved as one with his mustang. Gripped with his thighs, kept his ass still in his seat, gave the large gelding his head as they clattered across the dry earth. His heart was in his mouth, one hand reaching down for the rope hitched to his horn, untethering it with practiced ease.

If Billy wouldn’t stop, Steve was prepared to rope his horse and make him.

He squeezed against Butterscotch’s sides again. The gelding heaved in a breath, extended his legs even further, faster for Steve, eating up the ground below them in enormous strides.

The distance between himself and Billy was closing.

“Billy, stop!” Steve screamed, but the man didn’t even turn to look.

Steve cursed, winced as his leg twinged from the exertion, but refused to slow up.

Ears flattened against his head, Butterscotch was almost at Red’s tail now.

“Billy, if ya don’t stop, I’m gonna have to make ya,” Steve tried again, readying his lasso.

Billy ignored him and Steve caught a glimpse of his face now - jaw clenched, desperation in his eyes.

He wasn’t going to stop, not willingly.

Steve swung the lasso a few times, judging the distance between himself and Red’s neck, and then threw it forward, letting the rope run through his hand.

The loop settled expertly around Red’s neck, pulled tight immediately at the tension.

Steve touched his rein, slowing Butterscotch a tiny bit, knew he had to do this carefully or he could injure them both.

Red snorted and kicked out towards them, narrowly missing Steve and his horse.

“Just let me go!” Billy spat, grabbing for the rope around Red’s neck and trying to dislodge it, but Steve tugged it tighter.

“Stop!” Steve yelled again, looping the rope around his saddle horn and sitting hard back down.

Red fought against the pull of the rope, trying to listen to Billy still urging her on, but Butterscotch was bigger and heavier than her, and Steve had started to force them into a wide circle to slow them.

All of a sudden, Billy bailed.

Threw himself from Red’s back, hit the dirt hard, rolled and ran.

Steve swore, dropped his lasso, and kicked Butterscotch after him.

Once he was alongside Billy, Steve flung his feet out of his stirrups, swung one leg from the saddle, and launched himself at the other man.

They collided with a smack, Steve bringing him to the ground and hanging on tight while Billy struggled in his grip.

Billy was strong.

But Steve had spent years wrestling with cattle far bigger than him, had put his life on the line to cling to the backs of wild horses, had grown tough out here under the Arizona sun.

“If ya run now, it’s all over,” Steve growled at him.

Billy stilled. Went limp under Steve’s hold, panting for air.

“You’ll throw everything away,” Steve continued, “they’ll never give ya another chance, ya hear me? They’ll catch ya anyway, there’s nowhere to fuckin’ go out here, man.”

“Don’t need long,” Billy grunted, “just needa get to my dad.”

“What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Max wrote, said she was gonna go to the cops, said she couldn’t live like that with him anymore, said it had only gotten worse since I went to prison.” There was snot and sweat and spit on Billy’s face, his teeth bared as he spoke. “I needa get to him, need to finish the fucking job because I didn’t do it well enough the first time.”

“Billy, he’s been arrested already,” Steve said as calmly as he could, still straddling the man in the hot dust because he knew given a chance, he’d run again. “It’s done, he’s been taken care of. Max and her mom are ok, I’ve seen ‘em myself, I’m sure that’ll be in her next letter.”

Billy panted, taking a moment to process that. “The cops…they got him?”

“Yeah. He can’t hurt them anymore.”

In the distance, Steve could hear the pounding of hooves, knew others were approaching them now.

“You’re gonna be calm,” Steve told him quietly, “they’re gonna cuff ya. They’re gonna take ya back to your cell, and you’re gonna tell ‘em you made a stupid fuckin’ mistake, and I’m gonna tell ‘em the same thing.”

“What about Red?” Billy’s voice was small now, his ire fading, replaced by fear.

“I’ll make sure she’s ok,” Steve said earnestly. “But Billy…I’ll put in a good word for ya, ok? Maybe they’ll let ya off with a warnin…but if not, I’ll make sure she gets a good home, I promise ya that.”

The mare had stopped beside them, reins dangling from her sweat-wet neck, standing over her rider loyally.

Slowly, Steve let Billy sit up. Let him reach up to his horse, run a hand down her muzzle.

“Why isn’t she running?” he asked Steve hoarsely.

“That ain’t her life anymore,” Steve said, “she’s found a purpose here, and she’s gonna tough it out. Same as you.”

Billy nodded once, and then the others were upon them.

Benny was talking urgently down his radio, dismounting his horse quickly and striding over. “Don’t move,” he barked at Billy, “the guards are on their way, I want your hands out where I can see ‘em, you hear?”

Jeff was with him, taking up a post on the other side of Billy.

Billy sat in the dirt, knees pulled up to his chest.

“M’sorry,” he murmured. “I won’t run.”

Steve backed away. Took Red’s reins, gently led the mare away back to Butterscotch, patted his gelding on the shoulder with a shaky hand.

“Right, just stay there, son,” Benny said behind him. He’d softened slightly at seeing Billy turn meek, his defeated gaze fixed on the dirt.

“Steve, you ok?” Robin had caught up, leaping off a panting Cherry and running to him.

“M’fine,” Steve waved her off, but he was leaning against Butterscotch, his leg throbbing now that the adrenaline was wearing off steadily. Unable to hide a wince, he accepted Robin’s hand on his shoulder.

“You ok to ride back to the others?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Go on, we’ll wait here for Hopper,” Benny instructed them. He gestured to Red, patting the little mare on the neck with a fond look. “Speedy little thing, ain’t she?”

Steve clambered back on Butterscotch, lacking his usual grace as he slung his bad leg over the saddle, and then followed Robin quietly back towards the cattle.

“What am I gonna tell Max?” Steve mumbled, already dreading it.

“The truth,” Robin said gravely, “nothing else you can do. And hey, maybe they’ll go easy on him, let him finish the program since he’s almost done.”

Steve exhaled heavily. “I doubt it.”

Robin tipped her head. “Well, you never know. But hey, let’s just try and enjoy the rest of this trip, huh?”

Steve’s mood picked up a little upon rejoining Eddie and the others. The man watched worriedly as he approached, steering Ozzy towards him and falling into step beside them.

“Are you ok?” he asked, giving Steve a once-over. “Looked like you hit the dirt pretty hard.”

Steve looked down at himself, at the dirt caking one half of his shirt, brushed at it and winced a little when he felt the bruises starting to form on his shoulder and upper arm where he’d slammed into Billy.

“I’ll be fine. Just…just a damn shame ‘bout Billy. He was so fuckin’ close to gettin’ through this.”

Eddie nodded. “Remind me never to run from you, Stevie. That was…quite something.”

Steve managed a small smirk. “You plannin’ on runnin’, Eds?”

Eddie’s smile spread further. “No,” his expression was soft, his voice quiet. “Never.”

*****

The campfire crackled, Steve watching a stray spark as it popped and snapped in the flames, ash occasionally drifting away on the slight breeze and glowing bright before cooling to grey in the dirt.

It was dark now, the moon out and the stars on display.

Hopper and Dmitri had returned in a vehicle after depositing Billy back at the prison. The other inmates were quiet, eating their packed dinners in near silence, the mood a little sombre after Billy’s actions.

Steve was sitting next to Robin and Eddie. Looking up at the sky, knees to his chest with his arms wrapped loosely around them, thumb idly rubbing circles into a sore spot on his leg.

“It’s really nice out here,” Eddie commented, scrunching up his paper bag and setting it aside.

“Sure is,” Steve agreed quietly.

“I never really liked the quiet,” Eddie added, “always felt like I had to fill it. With music, mostly. Something loud. Used to piss my uncle off, said he never understood why I had to have it on full volume the whole damn time.”

“S’not all quiet, though,” Steve said, eyes still on the stars. He sat back a little, noticed several pairs of eyes on him now, the other inmates listening in the dark. “Close your eyes.”

Eddie did, mouth quirking in a tiny smile.

“What do ya hear?”

Eddie’s brow crinkled for a moment. “A bird.”

“Uh huh. That’s a nighthawk.”

“And…the horses.”

The horses were tethered on a long line off to one side, munching on the feed scattered in front of them. Their rhythmic chewing, soft sighs, occasional shuffle of hooves or swish of a tail was almost meditative to Steve, the noises as familiar as breathing to him.

“They look pretty happy over there,” Robin said, “especially Ozzy, she’s still looking at the cows.”

“I can hear the fire, too,” Eddie continued. “And there’s a breeze, it’s moving the leaves.”

Steve nodded. “See? It’s not really silent. S’just…nice.”

“Yeah,” Eddie opened his eyes again, sat up. “I think I could get used to this.”

Steve threw him a small smile, raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I mean…I’d still want my music sometimes, I couldn’t give it all up,” Eddie admitted. “But this…this is nice. My life’s been pretty…loud up until now, you know? Think I’m ready for some peace.”

Steve smiled softly. He watched the glow from the fire play out across Eddie’s face, dancing across cheekbones and delicate features and skin still a few shades paler than Steve’s. He was aware there were eyes on him still, could feel Hopper’s boring into his back, but for a moment it was just him and Eddie and a campfire in the dark.

If he could just reach out, just touch Eddie, pull him close and kiss him and bask in the warmth from the fire…

Hopper deposited his bedroll onto the dirt with a loud smack, dropping it between Steve and Eddie.

“Munson, set up over there,” Hopper pointed firmly to the rest of the inmates.

“Oh, I thought I could -” Eddie gestured towards Steve, shutting his mouth quickly at Hopper’s stern face.

With a sigh, and one last yearning look at Steve, Eddie picked up his own bedroll and trudged back to the other men, flapping the mat out on the dirt and sinking onto it with an exaggerated huff.

Hopper fixed Steve with an exasperated look, shaking his head briefly before setting up his bedroll between the inmates and the staff.

“I’m gonna be on watch till 3am, and Dmitri after that,” Hopper told him pointedly, “so no funny business, you hear?”

Steve nodded, tugging at his sleeves, trying to avoid Hopper’s eyes.

“I mean it, kid,” Hopper said, quietly now. “We’re close to the end here, if you can just…just wait this out, and then you can…well,” he gestured awkwardly back at Eddie. “You and him…you can…do what you want.”

The man seemed embarrassed, couldn’t quite word his sentence right but Steve understood what Hopper was trying to say.

He knew, and he didn’t care.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve murmured, then set about getting his own makeshift bed ready for the night.

A while later, with Robin curled up beside him and already snoring lightly, Steve glanced over towards Eddie one last time.

They locked eyes in the dark, their gaze heavy and heated and filled with promise.

Soon, Steve promised silently.

Soon, they could just be.

Chapter Text

“Just go slow, Dustin,” Steve reminded the boy, “she can be pretty shy.”

Dustin reached a hand out to Ozzy, waiting patiently for the mare to sniff at his fingers. She gave him a cautious look before pressing her nose to his palm, breath coming out in short pants across his skin.

Dustin smiled, face lit up as he watched the horse. It was after five in the evening, the inmates already departed for the day, and Dustin’s mom had dropped him off here at Steve’s request. Robin was still lingering, putting some equipment away and feeding out to the mustangs in the paddock.

“So you’re planning to buy her?” Dustin asked.

“Well, I’m thinkin’ pretty seriously ‘bout it,” Steve said, watching the two of them interact. “But Eddie’s still got nearly a year here, he’s the reason I want to buy her…”

Dustin nodded, flashed Steve a knowing look. “I had a bet going with Max, you know. Started over a month ago, I bet you had a crush on this Eddie guy because you wouldn’t stop writing to him and asking me shit about D&D. She would’ve owed me $10 except she reneged on it two weeks ago because she said she’d changed her mind and agreed with me.”

Steve rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Well, sorry to cheat you outta ten bucks, buddy.”

“It’s fine,” Dustin shrugged, “she seems like a cool horse. But why’d you want me here?”

“Well…” Steve leant up against the fence railing next to Dustin. “I figure, until Eddie’s out, Ozzy could be your responsibility.”

Dustin’s eyes widened in excitement.

“She ain’t an easy horse,” Steve continued quickly, “so you’ll have your work cut out for ya. I’ll help, and she’ll be on my land, but…me ‘n her, we don’t get along too well right now. She seems to like ya, so you can get used to lookin’ after a horse and she can have a friend. ‘Till Eddie’s out. And then, if you’re still keen after that…I think you woulda earned yourself a horse of your own, and we’ll start lookin’. Sound good?”

Dustin nodded so quickly he nearly lost his cap.

Steve chuckled, ruffled the top of Dustin’s head and pushed his cap on more firmly. “Why doncha go in there, lead her around, give her a brush? Slowly,” he added again when Dustin tugged the gate open a little too eagerly and Ozzy’s head shot up.

Robin joined Steve, watching as Dustin carefully led Ozzy in a circle of the round pen. Steve smiled to himself as he heard the kid chatting away excitedly to the mare, watched as she followed him calmly around, seemingly quite happy to trail after him.

“Your plan’s taking shape,” Robin commented.

Steve nodded. “I hope so. Only thing I’m worried ‘bout now is the money. What if someone else bids high on her, now that she’s goin’ so well? I mean, she’s a hell of a lot better than we first got her, and she’s such a good lookin’ horse, and with her bein’ so good with the cows -”

“Steve,” Robin cut in gently, hand rubbing over the small of his back. “You can only do what you can do, ok? There’s plenty of good mustangs there for people to bid on, and we could make sure she goes out near the end, when most people will have already purchased. And if you don’t end up getting her, well…someone bidding that high will surely give her a good home, right?”

Steve sighed, but then made a disgruntled noise of agreement, because as usual Robin was probably right.

It was just…he wanted so badly to do this for Eddie.

He still hadn’t told him his plan, because if it went wrong then it was better that he didn’t have his hopes up during the final week before the auction.

Steve’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, checked his notifications.

Max

1719 – Cracker’s pretty cool.

Attached was an image of Max with Chrissy’s little brown and white shih tzu on her lap.

Steve smiled, tapped out a quick reply.

1721 – give him a peice of cheese and he’ll love you for life

He slipped his phone away again, returning his attention to Dustin and Ozzy.

He’d helped Max and her mom move their things to Chrissy’s place during the weekend. Max had been excited, and even more so when she’d realized that Chrissy had a dog. Her mom had been quieter, shy, almost unsure how to act in the face of Steve’s kindness as he carried her bags back and forth between the car and the house. The furniture that Chrissy didn’t have room for was being stored in one of Steve’s sheds, wrapped in tarpaulin to keep the bugs out of it.

At first, Steve had been a little worried about the arrangement. That Chrissy was only agreeing to it because she was Steve’s friend, that Max’s mom wouldn’t like living with someone else, that Max might not enjoy the new place…but he needn’t have worried.

Chrissy was her sweet, bubbly self, helping them set up in the spare bedroom and immediately offering to drive Max back and forth from school since she worked there, giving Susan a chance to have some much-needed time to herself to rest and just breathe.

Both Max and Susan just seemed relieved to be living in a house without the ghost of an angry man lingering in it.

As for Billy…he’d been suspended from the program for a week so far. Eddie had told Steve that the man was quieter than usual, more withdrawn, but he seemed pleased at the fact that his father had finally been arrested. Steve was yet to hear whether he was going to be allowed back to finish the course, but he hoped so. Susan had contacted the courts, explained she was willing to provide a statement in Billy’s defence that might see his sentence lessened if they were to get a sympathetic judge.

Time would tell, Steve supposed. In the meantime, Eddie had done a little work with Red, insisting that he’d promised Billy he’d make sure she was at her best for the auction.

“She’s so cool,” Dustin said with a grin, bringing Ozzy to a stop by Steve.

The horse snorted, nudged at his back, and Dustin produced a treat from his pocket and slipped it to her.

“Hey, not too many of those,” Steve warned him, “don’t wanna go spoilin’ her.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“Can ya put her out in the paddock?”

He watched with interest as Dustin did so, taking in the way the mare walked quietly and paused while the boy opened the gate, the way she didn’t toss her head as he unbuckled her halter and let her go, closing the gate behind her. When Steve turned her loose, the mare would dance at the end of the lead rope, throw her head up high when he reached for the halter, scuttle off as soon as she was free.

He supposed they had a bit to work through, but they’d get there eventually.

Steve was willing to put as much work in as it took to regain the horse’s trust.

*****

Billy was officially dropped from the program the following week.

Steve had done his best – he’d written to the prison, vouched for Billy’s hard work and good behaviour up until the incident at Benny’s ranch, explained it had been a momentary lapse in judgement and finishing the course would be the best thing for him – but the prison had been firm, even after Susan Mayfield had made her own appeal to them as well.

However, they’d offered a glimmer of hope – that if Billy behaved himself between now and the commencement of the next mustang course, they’d consider letting them start afresh on it. The courts had also arranged for his case to be revisited in light of Susan and Max’s statements to the police – but that would be several months away yet, due to a clogged and ineffective system that never failed to make Steve’s blood boil.

All in all, though, it could’ve been worse.

Steve was sure Billy would behave himself at the promise of trying the course again, and he’d be more experienced and ready for his next go with a fresh horse.

Now, the staff and the inmates had turned their full attention to the upcoming auction.

This was their final week, and the auction was due to take place on Saturday.

Eddie was nervous, Steve could tell.

He was quieter than usual, smiled less often, lingered just a little longer than normal next to Ozzy.

“She’ll get a good home, right?” Eddie asked Steve, for about the hundredth time that Wednesday.

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve told him again, “I’ll make sure of it.”

He was burning to tell him his plan. Couldn’t, wouldn’t just yet. He’d done a review of his finances, at the small amount he’d stockpiled after purchasing his property – he could afford to spend a little money. So as long as no one else bid too high on her, he’d be ok.

Eddie patted his mare, his face downturned, shoulders slumped. “Think I’ll ever see her again?”

“Ya know, I got a good feelin’ you will, Eds.”

Steve had left him to it, let him slowly ride Ozzy around the pen while he turned his attention to other inmates, helping them make sure their mustangs were all going as well as they possibly could be. They made sure to keep working with Red in Billy’s absence – usually Eddie or Robin – because they were determined to get a good home for her, too.

Later that evening, Steve was sat on his porch in the fading sun, Dart winding around his ankles while he dug into a bowl of pasta he’d balanced on the railing. He had his music on inside, Tears for Fears drifting out through the open patio door, the horses wandering in the paddock across from him, snuffling about in their hay and sighing contentedly.

Steve was content, too, he realized.

Pausing with his fork in the bowl, he looked up. Watched the sun dipping down below the horizon, the welcome coolness of the night air starting to stir his hair and soothe over bare shoulders. The evening chorus from nearby birds had started, and Dart meowed softly for attention below him, Steve slipping him a small piece of bacon from his bowl with a smile.

The only thing missing was Eddie.

But that was temporary, Steve knew.

Until Eddie could join him, there’d be visits, there’d be letters and preparing for him to move in and Steve buying décor Eddie might like and getting his favourite recipes off Wayne so he could practice making them and helping Ozzy to settle in and wait for her favourite human to arrive. There’d be time spent with Dustin, teaching him how to work with Ozzy, he’d take Max out for ice cream again and have movie nights with Robin and watch games with Chrissy. He’d work with new inmates, new mustangs, maybe even Billy again.

He had so many people now.

And sure, he’d had some of them for a long time now, but in the wake of Nancy and the dark period that followed, a part of him had been blind to them. A few months ago, he would’ve preferred to drink himself to sleep rather than call Robin and admit he was lonely.

Now, he restricted himself to a few beers a week, and even then he didn’t always feel the need.

After all, he had better things to do.

His phone buzzed where he’d set it on the porch railing.

Dustin

1903 – Do you have Venmo? I know most people do but you’re kind of a grandpa with technology, so…

Steve frowned as he typed.

1904 – yeah why

1906 – What’s your email address then? Or your username?

1908 – why do you need it

1910 – I have a little bit of money saved. I want to help you buy Ozzy.

Steve let his head fall forward, rested it against his palm for a moment before replying.

1914 – thats really nice of you buddy but you don’t need to

1915 – But I want to.

When Steve didn’t reply for a moment, trying to think of his next sentence, his phone vibrated with another message from Dustin.

1919 – I have $40 and I know it’s not much but I want you to have it.

Steve knew he’d been saving that money for a while. Dustin’s mom didn’t earn much, but she still tried to give him a little pocket money every now and then, and he’d been saving it up to buy some new D&D thing Steve didn’t know much about, but he’d told Eddie about it in one of his letters and the man seemed just as excited about it as Dustin.

It’s a set of figurines, you can paint them, they must be from a new campaign. Shit, when I get out, I’ve got so much to catch up on, Eddie had written.

He also knew that while the thought behind it was kind, it wouldn’t go very far towards purchasing Ozzy.

1923 – you don’t need to, Dustin. Apreciate the offer tho

1925 – Steve just give me your email address, it’s my money, this is what I want to do with it.

And Steve…couldn’t argue with that, he supposed. He also knew it was damn near impossible to win an argument with this little shrimp – Dustin was nothing if not stubborn and persistent.

He sighed, and replied with his email address.

1930 – Thanks, I’ve sent the money 😊

1931 – thanks kid

Steve put his phone down, picked up his fork again, and finished his meal under an orange sky.

*****

It was 4pm on Friday, and Eddie was blinking back tears.

The other inmates had headed over to wait for the bus after saying their own farewells to their mustangs.

Steve hated this part, every time. As much as he tried to reassure the men that their work meant these horses now had a future and a shot at a wonderful home, he knew most of them would never see their horse again, and the complicated emotions that came with that goodbye always set a somber cloud over that final day.

Eddie was stroking Ozzy’s neck slowly, the mare leaning in close to him.

“You’ll be ok,” he was telling her, but Steve wasn’t sure if that was directed just at Ozzy or also to himself. “You just gotta be good tomorrow, put on a good show, and not worry about me, ok? I’ll be here, but not in the pen with you, you understand? I’ll be watching, so you just behave yourself, and you’ll get yourself a good home.”

Steve hung back a little. God, he wished he could wrap his arms around that man, comfort him, murmur that it was ok, that he’d see Ozzy again, that this goodbye was temporary.

Instead, he offered what he could – stood as close as he dared, took the lead rope gently from Eddie once Hopper was gesturing impatiently for Eddie to join the others, gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile – “It’ll be ok, I promise,” he added.

Eddie nodded, brushed past Steve, let his hand linger briefly at his hip for a few seconds, fingers curling in Steve’s shirt for just a brief moment, because this was the last time they’d be here together, in this round pen where they’d met, where they’d locked eyes and everything had started.

And then he was gone, not looking back at his horse as he slowly walked away.

Ozzy nickered softly, ears perked towards Eddie’s back.

“S’alright,” Steve told her, patting her on the back, the mare tolerating it for now. “Don’t you worry girl, we’ll see him again.”

He reached down, patted his pocket where Eddie had slipped a letter when he’d left.

As the bus trundled away, kicking up dust behind it, Steve took off his hat and sat in the shade of the fence to read it, Robin tending to the horses behind him.

Steve,

I know this isn’t goodbye, although it feels a little like one. I know we’ll keep writing, and I know you said you’ll come visit me and I’m sure I’ll see you at the auction but I’ll miss seeing you five days a week. This program has been…everything to me. Meeting you, meeting Ozzy, it’s changed me. I wish maybe we’d met in different circumstances – one where I was free and able to show you how I feel about you.

But that day will come, and if you still want me, then I’ll be there.

I think a part of me will always be yours, even if you change your mind.

Thank you for everything.

- Eddie

Steve blinked back tears. Wiped at his face, re-read the letter, folded it up and tucked it in his shirt pocket, the one by his heart.

“Everything ok?” Robin asked him, returning from the paddock with several lead ropes slung over her shoulder.

“Mmm hmm,” Steve managed, not trusting himself to speak.

Robin paused. Tossed the lead ropes to hang over the fence, sat down next to Steve and reached an arm around his shoulders.

“Dingus,” she pressed gently.

Steve let out the sob he’d been holding back, leaned into Robin, his head finding her shoulder.

“It’s ok, Stevie,” she murmured, “I’ve got you.”

“It’s stupid,” Steve choked out, “s’not like I won’t see him again, I just -”

“You won’t see him as often,” Robin finished for him, “and it’ll be different, meeting him at the prison. Stricter. You won’t be able to touch him.”

Steve nodded, grateful because Robin always knew what he was thinking.

“But you can still talk. You can plan what to do when he comes out, and Steve…it’s less than a year. It’s not that long, I promise. It’ll go quick.”

Steve wiped at the tears tracking down his face, gripped the crown of his hat out of habit, twisted it in his hands.

Robin nudged her hip against his. “Wanna come stay at my place tonight? We can drive to the auction together tomorrow. And we could make lasagna, watch a movie…you don’t have to be alone, Steve.”

Steve considered it for a moment.

A few months back, he would’ve shaken his head. Would’ve angrily scrubbed at his face, insisted he’d be fine, that he didn’t want to intrude, and he’d walk away when Robin tried to insist.

He was different now. Softer, perhaps.

And a part of him liked that.

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling through his tears. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Chapter Text

“Three hundred, now three twenty-five, can anyone give me three fifty, three fifty?”

Steve watched Red’s auction tensely, gripping the top rail of the fence, Robin beside him. He was happy to see Benny was there and bidding on the little mare, and he seemed pretty determined to get her. Red had put on a good show in the round pen for the gathered crowd, Steve having put her through her paces and worked a couple of cows for everyone to see.

Benny raised his hand.

“Three fifty! Three fifty, can anyone give me three seventy five, three seventy five…four hundred! Four hundred, can anyone give me four twenty five, this is a fine young mare…”

Benny lifted his hand again, and his opponents shook their heads, bowing out.

“Sold! To Benny Hammond, for four twenty five!”

Steve grinned as the mare was led out of the arena, turned to tip his hat at Benny. The horse would have a great life on his ranch, working his cattle and being turned out with his herd. Billy would be happy too, once Eddie passed the news onto him when he returned to their shared cell.

Eddie was off to the side of the round pen with the other inmates, watching the auction with interest. Even from here, Steve could see he was nervous, saw the way he was chewing on his lower lip and fiddling with the material of his jumpsuit.

Red had fetched the highest price so far, and there were only a few more horses left before Ozzy finished up the auction.

As he watched Jeff lope the next horse around the pen, Steve felt Robin nudge his elbow.

“Yeah?”

“Look over there,” Robin tipped her head towards the other side of the arena.

Steve followed her gaze, and his heart sunk.

Larry Kline was there, dressed in jeans that had never seen a day’s work and boots that were worth more than Steve’s car.

He owned the largest ranch in the area, ran more cattle than most of the other farms combined, had a hand in a new property development on the outskirts of town too. In short, the man had a serious amount of money. He showed up at the auctions from time to time, occasionally put in a bid if there was an exceptional horse, but usually turned his nose up at the mustangs. Steve thought he was probably more there to flaunt his money and status around than for any genuine reason.

Surely he wouldn’t bid this time, right?

Steve swallowed, forced himself to stay calm.

The next few horses were auctioned off, most fetching around two to three hundred dollars, and then it was time.

Robin had left his side to fetch Ozzy – besides Eddie, she was the best at working with the selective mare, and so she was the obvious choice to show her off to the crowd.

Quietly, selfishly, Steve hoped Ozzy wouldn’t be at her best. Not that he wanted Robin to get hurt, but he hoped the horse would be a little stubborn, that she’d be looking for Eddie, that she’d be distracted and difficult, because then it would be unlikely anyone else would want to bid on her.

But Ozzy was perfect.

She floated around that pen like a dream, responsive and quiet, her black coat gleaming in the sun. She put on an impressive display with the cattle, Robin doing little but staying out of her way in the saddle as Ozzy cut and herded them.

Once, she looked over in Eddie’s direction. Let out a soft nicker, gaze lingering on her inmate, before she was distracted by the cows again and was immediately back on task.

“Should’a waited for that one,” one of the ranchers murmured near Steve.

Once she’d finished the demonstration, Robin slid down from Ozzy, and led her slowly around as the auctioneer started to talk rapidly.

“An impressive display to finish off, this mare is worth your attention, folks. Who’d like to start us off at one twenty five?”

Steve’s heart hammered.

He raised his hand.

Felt Eddie’s eyes lock on him, even across the distance between them.

“One twenty five, one twenty five, can I get one fifty?”

A rancher raised his hand. Then another, and another, and Steve cursed.

“Two fifty, two fifty, now two seventy five, three hundred…”

The bids were coming in rapidly. Steve raised his hand again at three seventy five, watched as a few bidders dipped out, outmatched.

“Four hundred, can I get four twenty five?”

Steve could manage five hundred. Five twenty five, at a push. He raised two fingers in the air.

“Four twenty five, four twenty five, any advancements on four twenty five?”

“Five hundred!” Came the nasally voice of Larry Kline.

Steve’s gaze shot to the other man, to his cruel sneer, the greedy look in his eyes as he watched the horse.

See, Steve had heard things about Larry.

About the way he treated his horses like nothing more than tools, the way he shut them up in stalls most of the time unless they were needed for ranch work, the way they were always too clean but seemed dead inside, spirits broken by a life of confinement in narrow stalls and cold treatment.

He couldn’t get his manicured hands on Ozzy.

“Five hundred, five hundred, any more offers, can I get five twenty five?”

Steve raised his hand determinately, clenching his jaw and locking eyes with Larry.

Stop, you don’t need this horse.

Larry’s smirk widened.

“Five fifty,” he said.

The crowd had fallen silent.

Steve looked across despairingly to Eddie. The man was on his feet, nervously watching Steve, eyes wide and worried.

“Five seventy five,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

He’d make it work. He had to, for Eddie…

“Six hundred and fifty,” Larry said confidently.

Steve floundered, the auctioneer’s voice fading away in the background, pulse thrumming in his ears. This was the worst possible outcome – if it had been any other rancher it wouldn’t be so bad, but Larry was the worst of the worst, and being owned by him would break Ozzy’s heart.

“Can I get six seventy five, six seventy five anyone? Going once, going twice -”

“Seven hundred,” a new voice rang out from the back of the crowd.

Steve’s head shot up, searching for the source, he knew that voice…

Larry frowned, smirk starting to fade. “Seven twenty five,” he bid.

“Eight hundred, and let that be the end of it,” said the new bidder.

Larry fell quiet for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak again.

Wayne Munson pushed his way to the front of the crowd, and Steve felt a rush of hope.

“And if you keep bidding, so will I, even if I haveta sell my truck,” Wayne continued gruffly, interrupting Larry.

Larry kept his mouth shut, his expression furious.

“Eight hundred,” the auctioneer announced, his eyebrows raised. “Going once, going twice…SOLD to our mystery bidder, Mr…?”

“Munson,” Wayne piped up, “Wayne Munson.”

Robin grabbed Steve’s shoulder from across the round pen fence, shaking him lightly and grinning, her other hand stroking Ozzy’s neck.

“Steve she’s safe, she’s gonna be ok,” Robin was saying, but Steve was in a daze.

Wayne didn’t have land, he knew nothing about horses, and Steve knew there was no way he had that kind of money to throw around…but he must have come here with some sort of plan, right? Maybe he’d spoken to someone he knew about keeping Ozzy somewhere.

The man approached Steve, rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly.

“Well…guess we really did that, huh?” Wayne chuckled lightly. “Never seen Kline look so sour before, glad it was on account ‘o me.”

Steve shook himself out of it, stretched his hand out to Wayne’s to shake it. “Congratulations,” he forced out, “Eddie’ll be really happy that Ozzy’s staying nearby.”

Wayne frowned slightly. “Well, I should think so, son, she’ll be living with you…I mean, that was your plan when you started bidding, right?”

“Well…yes, but -”

“Excellent,” Wayne clapped him on the shoulder. “The horse is yours, then. I mean, on everything except paper, I guess, but I’ll sell her back to you real cheap, how’s that?”

“We can go halves,” Steve blurted, “four hundred each.”

Wayne looked conflicted for a moment. “I’m the one that bid that high, son, I really only came along to get a glimpse of my boy but once I saw you bidding on that horse I knew you were doin’ it for Eddie and wanted to help…I can always sell my pick-up, you don’t havta -”

“I want to,” Steve said. “Five hundred was my limit, anyway, you’d be doin’ me a favour. And then, once Eddie’s out, we can sell her back to him for a few bucks.”

Wayne smiled slowly. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Steve.”

He took Steve’s hand, shook it firmly.

Robin let out a whoop of joy, Ozzy snorting in slight surprise.

Wayne reached out slowly to the mare, offering his hand a little timidly. She sniffed at it suspiciously, then quickly relaxed.

Maybe she knew a Munson when she saw one.

Wayne smiled as he gently stroked the mare’s nose, chuckled as she huffed warm breath across his palm.

Steve leant against the fence and grinned, his heart full.

The only thing missing was Eddie.

Steve turned towards the group of inmates, eyes searching the crowd for Eddie.

He’d moved as close as he could get under Hopper and Dmitri’s watchful gaze, looking back at Steve with a wide smile, a single tear tracking down his cheek.

Thank you, he mouthed at Steve.

Steve nodded, his eyes soft.

Eddie had made it to the end of the program, through months of challenges and hard work, had grown from the angry, bottled-up man that Steve had first met into the kind and gentle man that he’d always been deep down – just as his horse had, Steve realized.

He’d grown into the man that Steve loved and was willing to do anything for.

When Steve returned home that evening, it was with Ozzy in his beat-up old trailer. Dustin was waiting for him when he pulled into the driveway - Steve having messaged him earlier and let him know that Ozzy was coming home.

Quietly, patiently, they led the mare out of the trailer and towards the paddock where Steve’s other horses had gathered, watching the new arrival with curiosity. Steve let Dustin lead her, and the boy talked to her quietly as they turned her loose, then came to stand next to Steve to watch as she trotted a few laps of the large paddock, the other horses following close behind her.

“Do they like her?” Dustin asked, a little anxiously.

“Just give them some time,” Steve told him, “and they’ll settle.”

“What if they bully her?”

“Well, I can always split ‘em up a bit, but let’s just see what happens.”

They watched, and waited. Cherry pinned her ears and squealed at Ozzy, not overly appreciative of the new horse in her territory. Steve felt Dustin tense beside him, and patted him on the shoulder.

Finally, the horses started to settle. Cherry moved away with a huff, content to ignore the new arrival for now. Scoops and Blue were more interested in their hay and returned to chewing after a short time.

Butterscotch, on the other hand, stuck close to Ozzy’s side. They’d met before at Benny’s ranch, and just as Steve had hoped, they were continuing to get along, Steve’s large gelding shadowing the little mare closely.  

Wayne was planning to come over tomorrow after work to see how the horse was settling in, and Steve knew he’d be just one of the many visitors Ozzy could expect to see. Robin would no doubt come by as soon as she could, probably with Vickie, Chrissy would want to see the horse that Steve “never shut up about” Jeff and Gareth would want to see her again too, and then there was the group of kids that Steve knew he’d have to keep on a short leash around her.

His heart ached at the absence of Eddie.

He should be here, sharing this moment with Steve, instead of sitting in his cold cell imagining it.

Steve would write to him tonight, he decided, and drop the letter in to the prison tomorrow, and start the process of getting himself on Eddie’s approved visitor list.

Now that Eddie was finished with the program, there was nothing stopping him.

Now, all they had to do was wait.

It was late by the time Steve put pen to paper that night.

Eddie

Ozzys here, shes setled in well with my horses. Butterscotch remembers her from the cattle drive and is looking after her. Shes a little confused about where she is but shes doing just fine and eating her food. Shes gonna miss you but I’ll tell her every day that she’ll see you again.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my plan to buy her. I was worried I might get outbid and then let you down and I thought it was better that you didn’t have your hopes up beforhand. I wasn’t expecting Wayne to bid too, in the end we went halves on her and when your out we’ll sell her back to you.

I hope your ok. I know finishing the program can be hard but you only have a little longer left there and I’ll visit as often as I can and I’ll be waiting when you come out.

Love,

Steve

He read the letter over when he was finished, squinting in the light of his bedside lamp, checking for errors as best he could.

He lingered on the end of it.

On the ‘love’.

Picked up his pen, debated scribbling it out or just writing it again from scratch without that there because what if it was too much, what if it was something he should be telling Eddie in person instead?

But no. He knew how he felt about Eddie.

Pictured him sitting on his thin prison mattress, no one except a dejected Billy for company, missing his horse and his routine and Steve.

At least this might bring a smile to his face.

Steve left the letter as it was, in the end.

Later, with the light out and Dart purring on the bed next to him, Steve tossed and turned, couldn’t silence his brain enough to get to sleep.

He stood, patting Dart when he made an unhappy noise, and padded his way to the door. Slipping his boots on, he grabbed the flashlight from the shelf next to the door and headed out into the pleasant night.

The paddock was his destination.

He stopped at the gate, leaned on it, shone the flashlight around looking for Ozzy. She blended into the dark, after all, so it took him a moment to find her – but once he picked up the golden glow of Butterscotch’s coat, he found Ozzy standing next to him.

One by one, Steve’s horses approached him, curious about the night-time visit, warm muzzles brushing over his hand and mouthing hopefully at his pockets for treats. Ozzy hung back, staying behind Butterscotch, watching him with a guarded look.

Steve thought back to his early days with Eddie, when the man had hung around in the shadow of the other inmates, when he’d kept his head down and blanched at the idea of participating in something, when he’d been defensive and scrappy and suspicious.

Steve smiled at the mare. “You’ll see him again, Ozzy.”

The mare perked her ears towards him, but stayed where she was.

“You just gotta wait a bit. But he’ll be here, you’ll see.”

Ozzy’s eyes softened a little, the mare lowering her head.

Steve tapped idly on the top of the gate for a few moments, then nodded. Satisfied the horses were settled, he headed back inside, kicking his boots off at the door.

There was one more thing he could do for Eddie.

He pulled out a clean bit of paper, laid it out flat on the table, and grabbed his pencils from the little case in the bottom of his bedside drawer.

It had been a long time since he’d drawn.

He’d enjoyed it as a child, art being one of the rare subjects at school he hadn’t struggled with, but his parents had scoffed at his wishes to continue with it – he had to spend his time on more important subjects, had to especially sort his reading and writing out, needed to stop wasting so much time on crap like drawing. The pictures he’d made for his mom at school and brought home proudly to show her hadn’t been pinned up on the fridge like he’d hoped – they’d garnered a tight smile, been folded up and later quietly discarded.

He'd drawn for Nancy, once.

Spent weeks working on it, depicted her sitting on the porch of this very house, her smile wide, her eyes shining.

He’d been anxious to give it to her. Had poured over it, redone so many parts, tried to perfect the linework and the shading, strained himself into a migraine several times getting everything just right.

At her birthday dinner party, he’d shyly handed it to her.

Nancy had smiled and it had been sad and Steve hadn’t understood why at the time. She’d told him it was nice, and then placed it aside and eagerly stood up to greet their next guest which Steve had later realized had been Jonathan.

He wasn’t sure what had happened to that drawing. If Nancy still had it somewhere, tucked away in a drawer maybe, some lingering reminder of the affection Steve had once felt for her – or if she’d just tossed it out with half his heart all those months ago.

So now, carefully starting his drawing for Eddie, Steve approached it…slightly differently.

He knew Eddie would be happy with anything Steve made – he could scribble a few lines on the page and Eddie would declare it a masterpiece. No longer concerned with perfection, Steve drew from the heart, depicting the soft curves of Ozzy’s arched neck, her dainty ears and intelligent eyes and the little whiskers on her muzzle.

With the gentle scratch of the pencil across paper and the noise of the night insects drifting through the window, Steve worked quietly through the night.

Chapter Text

“How’s everythin’ been goin’ in here, Eds?” Steve asked him, leaning across the cold plastic table in between them, eyes roaming over his boyfriend and trying to gauge his demeanour.

Eddie was…quiet. He had always perked up when Steve arrived for his visits, but lately the improvement in his mood had diminished some. The last few months of his sentence were dragging, Steve doing his best to stay positive, to cheer Eddie up, to bring him good news and take his mind off where he was just for a short time.

He ached to touch him.

He couldn’t, not here. The prison guards watched closely, and these ones weren’t as forgiving as Hopper – they wouldn’t turn a blind eye so he could reach for Eddie’s hand, so he could intertwine their fingers and just hold.

“S’ok,” Eddie mumbled.

“How’s Billy doin’?”

“Pretty good. He said they’re looking at putting him on the next mustang course, when your current one finishes.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I heard the same. Hey, Eds?”

His hand twitched towards Eddie’s.

“Mmm?”

“Not long now, huh? Two months, and then you’re out, ok?”

Eddie looked at him long and hard, before sinking back into his chair with a sigh. “I know. And I’m excited, I really am, s’just…I’ve been waiting so fucking long.”

“Just gotta hold on a little longer…Oh, I’ve got somethin’ to show ya. Here.” Steve untucked the envelope he’d had in his jean pocket, slid it across the table to Eddie.

He took it slowly, carefully pulling out the contents.

“Will got them printed for me,” Steve said to fill the silence while Eddie looked through the photos, a small smile beginning to spread across his face.

“Jonathan’s little brother?” Eddie asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Steve swallowed, nodded. “Yeah. He knows a bit about photography because of Jonathan, so he offered…he took a lot of them, actually.”

The photos were mostly of the kids and the horses, and one of Robin up on Butterscotch with Steve perched behind her. Steve had visited Benny’s ranch last weekend with Max to visit Red – there were several shots of the little mare in the paddock, coat gleaming in the sun, matching the orange of Max’s hair. For Billy, Steve had explained.

Eddie laughed at one of the pictures, turned it around for Steve to see – Dustin on Ozzy, flipping the bird at Will’s phone, and Ozzy with an equally unimpressed look on her face.

Steve chuckled. “Those two are really gettin’ along. Dustin and Ozzy.”

“Good, that’s…that’s good.”

“She still misses you, though.”

So do I. So much that it hurts.

“How do you know?”

Steve paused before he spoke again. “She looks for ya, sometimes. In a crowd of people if there’s visitors over, it’s like she studies everyone, searchin’ for ya. And then she’ll just…wander off. Like the rest of us ain’t worth her time.”

Eddie’s gaze settled on the table. “I miss her, too.” He looked back up at Steve. “And I miss you.”

Steve flinched, resonating with those words. “I know, Eds. I miss ya like crazy.”

“Every night, I look at the pictures you’ve drawn me. Ozzy, and Dart, your grandparents’ ranch, Robin and Vickie, Dustin and Cherry…it’s like I’m getting to know your life before I’m really in it, you know? And I love every single one of those pictures, they’ve seriously kept me going sometimes but…I just need to be outta here. I want to meet Dustin, your animals, Vickie and Chrissy…I want to be part of it all.”

Steve eyed him. He’d noticed the way Eddie’s jumpsuit was half hanging off him these days, the man having lost weight and muscle now that he wasn’t working with the mustangs anymore, his skin slowly returning to an unnaturally pale hue. Steve couldn’t wait to drive him home, to feed him hearty meals and hold his hand under the evening sky and ride over their land and let the sun warm his skin again and kiss him till he coaxed that familiar smile out of him again.

Soon.

“I hear ya, Eds. Is there anythin’ else I can do to help?”

Eddie’s eyes were tired, dark circles under them, but he still looked at Steve with such warmth that it floored him sometimes.

“Just…talk to me? Tell me about your day? What music did you listen to on your way, what’s the damn weather like, what’re you doing tomorrow, how’s Robin, how’s…everything?”

So Steve talked. About anything and everything he could think of, watched as Eddie relaxed a bit, as he softened in his chair and smiled more easily. He told him about the kids’ progress in their riding lessons, about how there’d been a little tension in the group because Lucas had shown interest in joining the school basketball team but the games would sometimes conflict with spending time at Steve’s place. He talked about Robin, about how the last time he’d been at her place for dinner Alfie had jumped up on the table and swiped a pawful of spaghetti right off Vickie’s fork. Hearing Queen on the radio on his way in, the relief at the cooler weather now that summer was long gone, Dustin falling on his ass in the mud while leading Ozzy back to her paddock in the weekend.

Eddie still lit up at any mention of Ozzy, hungry for any scrap of news Steve could bring him about the mare. So Steve offered whatever he could, anything to try and brighten his mood even a little bit.

Their time was up far before either of them were ready for it to end, but Steve slipped a letter across to Eddie so he’d have something to look forward to after he’d gone.

He smiled at him, whispered he loved him, and then he was being ushered out by a stony-faced guard at the end of the visiting hour.

Steve hated that damn place.

The cold narrow corridors, the screeching of hinges as cell doors opened and closed, the barked orders from guards, the dead looks from other inmates as he passed them by.

It was a far cry from what he knew – from the wide-open paddocks, from sunshine and dirt and sweat and life.

No wonder Eddie was struggling so much.

It only made Steve all the more determined to have everything perfect for when he came out.

Over the last few months, he’d tidied up the house with a little help from Robin and Vickie. He’d even made a feature wall in the bedroom – with the help of the kids (mostly Will and El, because they were good at art and were neat and careful which were two things the others tended to lack) he’d wallpapered one side of the room, the paper black with little white musical notes on it. Maybe it was too much, maybe he was going overboard, but he had a feeling Eddie would like it.

It had also occurred to him that maybe he was being presumptuous – maybe Eddie wouldn’t even want to share a room, share a bed with him yet – and so he’d tidied up a spare room too, figured he could always give his bedroom to Eddie and shift into the spare himself.

He read back through previous letters where they’d talked about movies and books, drove into town and picked up a few DVDs and books that Eddie had mentioned loving – they weren’t Steve’s usual type, but maybe he’d grow to like them. Eddie enjoyed them, and that was enough for him.

His visits with Wayne also became a near-weekly occurrence.

Steve would join him on Wayne’s creaky porch on a Sunday evening, smoking in the thick heat of the dwindling light. Wayne wasn’t a chatty guy, and neither was Steve, but they both shared love for the same thing – Eddie.

And so, between drags of his cigarette and sips from his beer, Wayne would tell Steve about him. About his early days, about the times Eddie had run from his father and shown up at his back door skinny and bruised and scared. About how he’d blast his music and shut Wayne out of his room sometimes, for hours on end until finally he’d cave and stomp out into the lounge to crumble and cry in his arms. About the times his father would come a knocking again, and Eddie would pack up his things eagerly, telling Wayne he’d be ok this time, that his dad had promised him things would be different now, that he was going to live with him again.

“Al used him,” Wayne told Steve bitterly, “chewed him up till there was nothin’ left and spat him out when he didn’t need him no more. Eddie was always too good for him – he had a damn good heart, and Al knew it, knew Eddie’d always forgive him, even after he’d been in and out of prison a bunch of times.”

He told Steve about Eddie’s favourite recipes. Wrote them out for him on bits of paper, tore them off and handed them to Steve when he left.

“You’re welcome to come join us,” Steve would remind him, every time. “For dinner, once Eddie’s out. Whenever ya like.”

“Likewise, son,” Wayne would say. “This place has been too damn quiet with Eddie away.”

Slowly, Ozzy got used to Steve again. She’d let him work with her – let him lead her, brush her, trim her feet, take her along when he rode Butterscotch and follow behind him – but the love she held for Eddie was never there with Steve. That was ok, Steve told himself. She was a one-person horse, and her person would be here soon.

Dustin had made a lot of progress with her, however. The mare seemed fascinated by the kid – or maybe it was the treats he always brought along for her. Either way, she was comfortable with him riding her, and Steve would take the pair of them riding across his property and Mrs Driscoll’s next door. Sometimes, with Dustin chattering away obliviously, Ozzy would turn to look across the paddocks, a faraway look in her eyes.

Steve wondered if she was thinking about her old home.

But then Butterscotch would nudge her, or Dustin would pat her neck, and she’d snap back to the job at hand.

Eddie and Steve’s letters continued. Steve could only visit once a week, and there was only so much he could say under the close scrutiny of the prison guards, and so instead Steve poured his heart into his writing.

He’d improved, he thought, the words coming more easily to him now even if he still struggled with spelling sometimes. It helped that Eddie had never mentioned it, that he’d never teased him or made Steve feel bad about it. Drawing would always come more naturally to him, but he was much more comfortable now than when he’d started.

Dustin wrote his own little segments sometimes, at Steve’s request.

He’d catch Eddie up on the latest D&D campaigns – anything that had been released while Eddie had been in prison, even offered to organize a session when Eddie was out and ready to play. Once he’d learned from Steve that Eddie had a lot of the same interests as him – fantasy, sci -fi, a lot of stuff that went over Steve’s head – Dustin had talked about TV shows and movies Eddie might want to watch once he was out – “don’t bother with the new LOTR series though, it was shit…”

Steve always read over Dustin’s notes with a smile. The kid hadn’t even met Eddie yet, but he knew they’d get along like peas in a pod once they were properly introduced.

Steve, Eddie wrote in his mid-week letter,

Thanks for visiting the other day, and bringing the photos. I showed Billy the ones of Red and he was in a good mood for the rest of the day. He told me his case is being reviewed next week, did you hear? Hopefully his sentence will be shortened.

Wayne visited me yesterday. He told me you’re still going over for dinner on Sundays, and how much he enjoys that. Reckon he likes you more than me now, the way he wouldn’t shut up about you…he said he’s grateful to have someone to talk to. Thank you for visiting him, it means a lot, I always worry about the old man all alone in that house.

I’m sorry I’ve been quiet when you visit. These last few weeks here are going so damn slowly and I just want to get out and be with you properly. I’m also a little worried because I’ve been in here a while now and I’m not sure how I’ll adjust to suddenly being out…like being able to choose what to wear, what to have for dinner? Sounds stupid, but that’s something I haven’t been allowed to do in such a long time.

I’ll find work too, as soon as I can. If anyone’ll hire me, that is. I know you’ve told me before there’s no rush, but I don’t want to sponge off you for longer than I have to, I’ll pull my weight.

I miss you, and I’m never not thinking about you.

Love, Eddie.

P.S The other note in here is for Dustin

P.P.S Give Ozzy an apple from me?

Steve scribbled out his reply on a Wednesday evening with Dart on his lap.

Hey Eds,

I’m glad you and Billy liked the photos. Max was excited for Billy to see the ones of Red. I hope all goes well with his case, and maybe he’ll be on the next mustang course like you said.

I always enjoy going to visit Wayne. He’s a great guy and he’s easy to talk to. He tells me all kinds of stuff about you (nothing bad dont worry) and it sort of feels like your there with us, in a way. Does that make sense? He loves you so much.

I know its been really hard for you there lately. Its not long now though, just hang in there, ok? You’ve got so much to look foward to. If you want to work then I can help you find something but it doesn’t have to be straight away, you can some time to just rest and adjust first. And I kinda want to keep you close for as long as I can anyway…

Halfway through writing his letter, Steve’s phone rang.

He frowned at the display name on the screen.

Nancy.

He’d wanted to delete her number a while ago, but he’d kept in case he needed a vet in an emergency.

In all this time since their split, she’d never called him.

Putting down his pen, he held the phone for a moment as it vibrated in his hand, finger hovering over the little green ‘answer’ icon.

Finally, he tapped it.

“Hello?” His voice was strained.

“Steve? It’s Nancy.”

“Uh huh.”

There was silence for a long moment, and Steve pictured Nancy chewing at a delicate thumbnail, face drawn into a frown.

“Do ya…need somethin’?” Steve asked eventually, growing impatient. She called him, for fuck sake! “I got an overdue vet bill or somethin’…?”

“No,” Nancy said quickly, “no, it’s not that. I just wanted to tell you that Jonathan and I are moving away. He got a job with this photography company in LA, and I’ve got interviews with a few clinics in the area, so…”

Steve breathed out slowly. Placed his elbows on his porch railing, leant his head on one hand. “Why’re ya tellin’ me this, Nance?”

“I…” Nancy trailed off, then seemed to steel herself. “I just wanted you to know, in case you’re trying to call me for your animals. That you’ll need to call the clinic instead, because you’ll have to get a different vet out, Fred or whoever ends up replacing me…”

“I always call the clinic first anyway,” Steve said sharply. “You know that.”

“Right. Well, just in case.”

“Nance?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’re you really callin’?”

Because Steve knew Nancy. He knew how long she would’ve hesitated before making this call, could hear the strain in her voice, the emotion behind her words. And he’d moved on from her, the heartbreak she’d left in her wake slowly diminishing under the soft touches of one Eddie Munson, but he’d loved her, once. He’d cared so damn much about her, and despite what she’d done, a little of that care was still there.

For the sake of the love they’d once had, he was concerned for her.

“Steve…” she said, voice softening now. “I didn’t want to leave without saying…well. I’m sorry. About…how everything ended.”

“You mean how we ended?”

“Yes. It was my fault, and you didn’t deserve that. And a phone call and me saying sorry probably isn’t enough, but…I needed to say it.”

Steve swallowed thickly, didn’t answer. His fingers ran across a piece of peeling paint on the railing, watching it flake off and drop down to the ground below.

“I heard you met someone. At your work,” Nancy continued. “And I really hope you can be happy now, Steve.”

Steve nodded, even though Nancy wouldn’t see it.

“When do you go?” he asked, uncharacteristically hoarse.

“Next week. I would’ve told you sooner, but honestly I was…scared to pick up the phone.” Nancy chuckled weakly.

Both were quiet for some time. Once upon a time, Steve had had so much he wanted to say to Nancy. He’d had so many questions about why she’d left him for Jonathan, what he’d done wrong, if she’d been lying the times she’d said she loved him, what was so wrong with him that people tended to walk out of his life so damn quickly…

He didn’t need the answers, now.

Knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, that he’d loved Nancy with everything he had, and the choices she’d made were her own.

He glanced across at the paddock, watched as Ozzy raised her head, swishing her tail at a fly. The mare looked at him, blinking softly. Eddie would be there soon – maybe in a few weeks’ time he’d be brushing her under a similar sunset, maybe he’d turn to wave at Steve, that beautiful grin on his face.

Steve lifted the phone back to his ear, decision made.

“Goodbye, Nancy,” he said, and ended the call.

Chapter Text

Eddie was released from prison at 9am on a Thursday.

Steve had arrived a half hour early, sitting in the parking lot drumming his thumb on the wheel, head snapping towards the prison gates at any sign of movement.

Wayne was with him in the passenger seat, the two sitting in tense silence and watching the minutes count down on Steve’s watch.

“There he is,” Wayne broke the silence eventually, shifting in his seat and looking out the window. “There’s my boy.”

Steve craned his head to see past Wayne. Caught sight of Eddie by the gate talking to a prison guard – even with his back turned, Steve recognized the guard as Hopper. For the first time, Steve was seeing Eddie in something other than that damn orange jumpsuit – he was in black jeans and a plain grey t shirt that clung to his narrow frame, and he looked good in them.

And then he was being waved towards the car, the gate closing with a dull final clang behind him.

Eddie was free.

Steve threw open his car door. Stumbled out, ran to him.

Eddie paused halfway across the carpark. Faltered, clutched his small plastic bag of belongings, looking around with wide eyes.

He fell into Steve’s arms.

Steve wrapped himself around him, held him close, felt Eddie sigh into his neck, tip his head into his shoulder.

“Steve -”

“Hi, Eds.”

“Stevie, I’m out, I’m finally fucking out…”

“I know.”

“I…I don’t know what to do, this is…” Eddie’s voice shook.

Steve tightened his hold on him.

“It’s alright, I gotcha.”

Steve felt damp on his shoulder, saw Eddie trembling a little, cupped his cheeks and tipped his head back. Eddie was crying, but he was smiling through the tears, laughing weakly when he saw Steve’s concerned face.

“Hey, y’ok?” Steve murmured.

Eddie nodded, smiled wider. “Yeah. S’just…a lot.”

Wayne was hanging back letting the two men have a moment, but Steve knew how much he must be aching to get to Eddie. He stepped back a little. Wayne’s composure crumbled, closing the distance between himself and his nephew and pulling him into a hug of his own.

Eddie cried harder, tucking himself into Wayne despite being taller than him, appearing to shed a decade as Wayne comforted him.

“Shhhh, Eds,” Wayne was murmuring to him, “we’re here. Me ‘n your boy, we’ll take you home, ok?”

“I don’t even know where that is now,” Eddie croaked into Wayne’s shoulder.

“Yeah you do, kid,” Wayne told him, patting him on the back. “You’ve known for a while.”

Wordlessly, Wayne put himself in the backseat when they made it to the car. Eddie clung to Steve’s hand for the drive, shaking his head when Steve asked if he wanted any music on.

Steve would’ve been concerned by how quiet Eddie was for the drive but the man looked content, gazing out the window and watching the paddocks go past, tears still rolling silently down his cheeks occasionally, unhindered.

“Now, me and Steve packed up some of your things from my place and moved them to Steve’s for you, so you’re all set,” Wayne said eventually, as they neared Steve’s driveway. “But if you need anything else, you can come right over and get it, or give me a call and I’ll bring it over.”

“Or, if you’d rather stay with Wayne for a bit…” Steve offered quietly. They’d spoken about this before, Steve promising that he wouldn’t mind if Eddie wanted to live with Wayne for a while, to be somewhere familiar while he adjusted back into normal life again, but Eddie had told Steve he was more than ready to spend his time with him.

 They’d waited long enough, after all.

“I want to stay with you,” Eddie said quietly, squeezing Steve’s hand, then looked to the backseat. “Is that ok, Wayne?”

Wayne nodded. “Whatever you like, Eds. We got plenty of time to catch up.”

“You could stay for lunch if ya like, Wayne?” Steve asked, pulling the car into his driveway.

Wayne chuckled. “Appreciate the offer, but I’m thinking you two have got a lot of lost time to make up for, and I’m gonna give you some space to do that.”

Steve blushed, and Eddie grinned.

“But don’t you worry, I thought I’d come by tomorrow and see how you’re settling in, that sound good?”

Eddie nodded enthusiastically, before his attention was drawn elsewhere and he quickly put the window down.

“Ozzy!” he called, spotting the mare in the paddock they were passing.

The mare’s head shot up from where she was grazing, ears pricked towards the car. She paused for a moment, before letting out a soft whicker and trotting towards the fence.

Steve didn’t even have time to fully stop the car before Eddie was opening the door and spilling out, running to the fence and perching his feet up on the second rail to lean over and reach for his horse.

Ozzy shoved her nose into him and Eddie wrapped his arms around her neck, laughing as she exhaled heavily into his chest.

“He sure loves that horse, huh?” Wayne commented as Steve parked the car.

Steve tugged on the handbrake, turned to look fondly back towards the paddock. “Yep. And she loves him.”

Wayne smiled, watched his boy and the horse interact over the fence.

“I love him, too,” Steve continued, gaze fixed on Eddie, “and I promise I’ll look after him. He’s safe here.”

Wayne nodded, eyes filling with tears. “He’s had a hard life, Steve,” he said hoarsely, “and he’s got a lotta stuff to unpack, I think. He ain’t the easiest to deal with sometimes, but he’s got the biggest damn heart I’ve ever seen. So if you ever…if you ever tire of him, or he ever presses your buttons just one too many times, you…you call me, ok, and I’ll talk to him, or he can come an’ stay with me for a bit, because I think findin’ you was the best thing that ever happened to him and I don’t want to see him hurt again -”

Steve swallowed, taken back by the display of emotion from the usually stoic man. He reached out, squeezed Wayne’s arm.

“I’ll look after him, Wayne,” he repeated, “I meant what I said, I love him. I know he’s…I know he’s gonna have some difficult times, I know it ain’t all gonna be smooth sailin’…it’s ok. I’ve got him.”

Wayne placed his hand over the top of Steve’s, gripped it tight. “I believe you, son.”

Before he left, Wayne hugged Eddie for a long time. Steve could see the man talking, could see Eddie nodding his head, wondered what was being said – but it wasn’t for his ears.

So he waited while Wayne reversed his pick-up, while he waved out the window and slowly made his way back down the driveway and onto the road.

And then Steve and Eddie were alone.

For the first time since their brief moment in a feed shed all those months ago, they were finally alone.

Eddie stepped towards him. Gnawed at his lower lip, twisted his fingers around each other. “Do you…um,” Eddie trailed off, eyes not lingering anywhere for long. “Well…what do we do now?”

Steve knew what to do.

With one stride he closed the gap between them, brought a hand to Eddie’s cheek, and sealed his lips with his own.

Eddie melted into him with a soft noise, hands settling at Steve’s hips.

The kiss was soft. Tentative, almost, two people finding their way with nothing holding them back for the first time. Steve controlled it at first, Eddie’s mouth warm and pliant against his, but before long Eddie was pressing into him, deepening the kiss and stealing the lead from Steve.

He didn’t mind. He happily let Eddie gently back him up to the porch railing, had no objection when Eddie placed his hands on either side of Steve’s face and directed his mouth where he wanted it.

Finally, they broke away – to breathe, if for no other reason.

Steve took his hand. Smiled almost shyly, led him inside the house.

Down the hallway, past the kitchen. The kitchen where Nancy had yelled and cried and Steve had gone silent and stony, dinner long burnt in the oven. He pictured making meals there for Eddie, imagined the man wrapping his arms around him from behind and kissing his neck while music played quietly in the background, music that Nancy had hated.

He showed Eddie the lounge, where Steve had crashed on the couch too many times, too drunk or too hungover to make it to his bed. The room felt…lighter after Eddie had done a lap of it, after he’d turned to look up at Steve with shining eyes when he caught sight of the DVD collection, of the movies Steve had bought just for him.

Finally, he opened the door to his bedroom. The room where Nancy had broken his heart – the bed new because Steve had barely stopped himself from burning the old one and sufficed for selling it instead, but the pain still lingered in the walls.

They’d make new memories here – he and Eddie.

Eddie let go of Steve’s hand briefly to walk to the wall behind the bed. To run his fingers over the musical notes there, tracing over the lines almost reverently before turning back to Steve.

“I can still smell the paint,” he murmured.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry ‘bout that, I’ve had the damn windows open every day tryin’ to air it out, it shouldn’t smell for much longer…”

Eddie shook his head, returned to Steve, took his hand and kissed it. “No, I meant…this is recent. You did this for me.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Do you…like it?”

“Sweetheart…I love it.”

“The kids helped. They wanna meet ya sometime, when you’re ready. ‘Specially Dustin.”

“I’d love that. I can’t wait to see that little shrimp in person.”

Steve laughed, lingered in the doorway, the bed an elephant in the room.

“I wasn’t sure if…well. If ya wanted your own space, maybe. So I set up a spare room, and if ya like this room you can sleep here and I can take the spare room, or if ya want we could…” Steve trailed off as Eddie stepped into his space again, breath leaving his lungs because this man was beautiful and he was finally standing in his bedroom.

“What, Stevie?” Eddie whispered.

“…share,” Steve finished.

“I’d like that.”

“You’re sure?”

“Uh huh. I promised to make this place a little less quiet, didn’t I?” A hint of a grin played across Eddie’s face.

Steve smiled. “That you did, Eds.”

****

The rest of the day passed in a gentle haze. Steve showed Eddie the rest of the property, introduced him to Dart and helped him unpack his things and get settled. While he’d been serious about the offer of having his own room, Steve had already cleared half his closet and drawer space for Eddie.

“I don’t have much stuff,” Eddie had said quietly, almost embarrassed by the words.

“That ain’t a problem,” Steve had told him, “we can get you more stuff. Think Robin was lookin’ forward to a shoppin’ trip anyway.”

“I…I don’t want to just…take over your space,” Eddie had admitted.

“This is your home now too, for as long as ya want it to be. I want you to take up space. This house has been…too fuckin’ empty with just me. I want you to fill it.”

Steve had already bought all the ingredients needed for Wayne’s lasagne. Thet evening, he squinted down at the man’s writing, fetched his glasses and started putting everything together. His music was playing, the 80’s playlist that Nancy had detested, and Steve bobbed along to the familiar notes of Wham! while he melted cheese and heated tinned tomatoes.

Eddie wasn’t in the room, but Steve knew just where he was.

If he glanced up at the window, he could see him. Standing in the paddock with Ozzy, the two of them alone in the center, the other horses having lost interest in him and wandered off to graze. Ozzy’s coat shone in the low light, her eyes closed as she dozed lightly, Eddie’s hand running gently down her neck. Steve could see his lips moving, smiled to himself at the thought of Eddie chatting away to the mare like he used to.

He’d pictured this scene so many times. Nearly every waking moment since that day in the feed shed he’d imagined Eddie being here with him, and now it was finally a reality.

He turned back to the recipe. Focused hard on getting this just right, because Wayne had said it was Eddie’s favourite.

He needn’t have worried. Eddie had almost cried again when he’d returned inside and smelt it cooking, had devoured every bite and then tugged Steve into another kiss, and he’d tasted like tomato and basil and Steve didn’t care a bit.

“You, um…ya ready for bed?” Steve said, later when the two of them were awkwardly hovering in his room, freshly showered. “You’re probably tired, I know all this has probably been sorta…overwhelmin’, but…”

“Stevie?” Eddie interrupted gently, sitting down on the bed.

“Mmm?”

“C’mere.”

Steve went.

Sunk into Eddie’s arms, let himself be carefully manoeuvred onto his back with Eddie straddling his hips, sighed softly as Eddie kissed him – his mouth, his jaw, his neck, down to his bare chest, while Steve’s large hands cupped his waist and he blinked slowly up at him, so in love he felt as though he were floating.

Naked now, skin to skin, Eddie whispered that he loved him, took him in his mouth while Steve writhed below him, while he buried his hands in long locks and murmured a mantra of “I love you Eds, so fuckin’ much, I love you…”

He came in Eddie’s mouth, and again when Eddie pressed inside for the first time, turning his face away in embarrassment because Eddie had barely started, but the other man had made a soft noise and cupped his cheek again, had kissed him slow and soft and sweet until Steve was grinding his hips again, until he was digging his heels into Eddie’s ass and ready for more, ready for whatever Eddie had to give him.

Steve had had plenty a sinful thought about Eddie since they’d met.

Had pictured the man’s long fingers at his throat, had imagined Eddie slamming him against the wall of the barn and tugging his hair roughly, had thought about being held down and made to take…Steve wanted all of those things from Eddie, and he had no doubt that the man would deliver, in time.

But tonight, Eddie carefully took him apart piece by piece. Moved slowly, deeply, wrung Steve dry until he felt like he’d been in the saddle for days and needed to sleep for a week. He’d swallowed every noise Steve made, kissed the tears from his cheeks, squeezed his eyes shut when he finally came inside him.

Afterwards, sweat-soaked and loose-limbed, Steve had been gathered into Eddie’s arms, had been held close and soothed when he cried – he wasn’t even sure why he cried, but Eddie hadn’t minded, hadn’t questioned it – had just held him a little tighter through the night.

And when he’d woken the next day, Eddie was there. Smiling back at him, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and Steve could’ve cried all over again.

He kissed him, again. Thought there really shouldn’t be a time when they weren’t kissing, now that he had Eddie here and under his hands.

They were interrupted a while later by Steve’s phone ringing, by Robin checking in on him before she went to work. She was coming over this weekend, her and Vickie, keen to see Eddie and Ozzy again.

In the meantime, Steve pulled Eddie closer, content to have him to himself for the next day or so.

*****

Steve slung a saddle over the fence, resting it on the top railing, Dustin and Eddie’s voices filling the silence and bringing a smile to his lips. The two of them were arguing about some TV show Steve had never heard of, Dustin insisting the reboot was worth a watch but Eddie deadset that the original couldn’t be beat.

“Seriously, just watch it Eddie,” Dustin implored him, “I got Steve set up with Hulu finally so it’s all there for you.”

“I’ll get around to it, buddy.” Eddie reached out, ruffled his hair, smirked at the annoyance that flitted across Dustin’s face. “I’ve got a shitload of catching up to do.”

The two of them were getting along just as well as Steve had predicted. It was Sunday – Steve’s last free day before he was due to head back to work tomorrow for the start of a new course – a course that Billy would be on while he served the remainder of his reduced sentence.

The kids had been here for the morning, Dustin the last one remaining while he waited for his mom to pick him up.

Eddie had been…a little hesitant to meet them, at first, despite telling Steve he wanted to. What if he made them nervous, what if their parents didn’t want their children hanging around a felon, what if they asked him questions about prison that he wasn’t ready to answer…

Steve had promised him they were good kids, that he’d be ok.

And he was.

The kids knew about Eddie from Dustin and Max, knew he played D&D, and that was enough for them. Max talked to him for a little bit about Billy, and Dustin followed him around like Eddie was some sort of mother duck.

Steve’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced down at the screen. It was Wayne. Getting Eddie his own cell was on their list of many things to do, but in the meantime anyone contacting him had to go through Steve.

“Sorry to interrupt your day, son, I wanted to see how Eddie was doin’, and I’ve got some news for him too.”

Steve put the phone on speaker, ushered Eddie over. Dustin’s mom pulled into the driveway and the two of him waved the kid off, Eddie chatting with Wayne for a few minutes before his uncle got around to why he was really calling.

“Benny’s hiring,” Wayne said bluntly, “saw an ad in the paper last night, he wants ranch hands. I know you’ve only been out a few days, Eds, but the start date’s not for another month anyway so that’d give you some time to settle, and I thought -”

“Wayne, I doubt he’d even hire me,” Eddie said, disheartened, “I’m not sure anyone around here will.”

“Before you go getting all maudlin on me, boy, just let me finish.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but his face was fond. Steve wanted to kiss him.

“I took the liberty of calling him. Told him you were out now, and that you might be interested, ‘cos I remember you didn’t shut up in your letters about that cattle drive you did with him for a damn long time.”

Steve smiled at that and Eddie blushed lightly.

“What’d he say?” Eddie asked, more hopeful now.

“He said he remembered you, that you rode well and worked hard. He said he’d be happy to talk to you about the job, if you wanted to give him a call sometime.”

Eddie blinked several times. “He…he’ll hire me?”

“Well, he wants to talk to you first, but…yeah, I reckon he will, Eds.”

Once the call had ended, Wayne promising to come over for dinner during the week sometime, Eddie grinned at Steve. Unable to hold back any longer, and with no reason to hold back anymore, Steve kissed the man as hard as he’d been wanting to do.

“You really think it could work? Me working for Benny?” Eddie asked once they’d separated again.

“I think it’s a great idea. Benny’s a good guy, his place is close, maybe after you’ve got some experience there ya could even take Ozzy along in the trailer, turn her into a little ranch horse since she loves workin’ the cows so much.” Steve cupped his hands over Eddie’s skinny ass, pulled the man in close again, grinned into his mouth. “We gotta get you some real jeans too, these ones ain’t gonna do the trick.”

Tongue between his teeth, Eddie smirked. “Yeah? You gonna turn me into a real cowboy then, Stevie?”

Steve grabbed his hat from the fence post, plopped it on Eddie’s head. “Let’s start now, huh?”

With Steve watching on, Eddie saddled Ozzy with slightly shaky hands. It was almost like old times, in the scorching heat of summer in a dusty round pen when both man and horse were scared of the world.

Steve opened the gate, swung easily up onto Butterscotch, and followed Eddie out onto the trail that looped around his property.

“Where are we going?” Eddie asked, fiddling with the rein, a little unsure.

Steve shrugged. “Wherever ya wanna go. You lead, I’ll follow.”

A smile spread over Eddie’s face, slowly gaining traction, and then he squeezed his heels to Ozzy’s sides.

“Try and keep up then, big boy,” Eddie teased, and sent Ozzy loping off down the trail.

Smiling and shaking his head, Steve followed behind on Butterscotch, clicking his tongue at his mustang but letting Eddie keep the lead just to hear him whooping with laughter up ahead.

They stopped atop the highest point of Steve’s land – a small hill overlooking the rest of the property. Quietly, the pair of them looked back towards the house, Steve leaning on the horn of his saddle.

“We should paint the barn red,” Eddie piped up after a moment.

“Ya think?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Like the one at your grandparents’ old ranch, in your drawing.”

Steve turned to him, gaze soft, warmed by the fact that Eddie remembered that.

“We could paint the house, too,” Eddie continued.

“It’s…” Steve paused for a moment, gathered himself. “Nancy chose it. The colour.”

“Do you like it?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“…not really,” Steve admitted, “But I never really thought about it.”

“Then we should paint it. Whatever colour you want.”

“What if I wanted to paint it yellow?” He didn’t really want to, but he wanted to see how Eddie would react, how far he could push him, because Nancy had refused to budge even on the colour of the windowsills…

“Then I’ll find you the brightest yellow I can, Stevie,” Eddie said, without missing a beat.

“We’re not painting it yellow,” Steve chuckled, and Eddie laughed with him. “But I’ll think ‘bout it. A change would be nice. We could…make it our own.”

Eddie reached across for his hand. “There’s nothing I’d like more, sweetheart.”

They stayed on that hill for a long time, as the sun started to sink low and bathe the scene in golden light. It was beautiful, Steve thought, the way everything seemed to glow at this hour – the trees, the coats of the horses, the tufts of grass waving in the soft breeze.

But none of it compared to the sight of Eddie next to him.

Eddie brought Steve’s knuckles to his lips, kissed them softly. Steve remembered how those same knuckles had been split and bruised when they’d first met, the skin now long since knitted together and healed.

“Ready to go home, Eds?”

“Lead the way, Stevie.”