Thread by @starbeyy

🏳️‍🌈pride month threadfic marathon🏳️‍🌈

DAY 10: #osakita // cowboys (but gay), friends with benefits ?, a touch of yearning

cw // suggestive stuff, not quite nsfw but not quite not

🌾🌾🌾

Whispers filled the old saloon that muggy June afternoon.

Everyone knew by the time the sun was in the middle of the sky. Everyone was talking about it by the time Miya Osamu sauntered through the doors.

/He's coming today?/ The whispers said.

/That's what the folks from the town over said, he just passed through,/ others replied.

When Osamu appeared in the doorway, everything went silent. It was so quiet that they could hear every scuff of the heel of Osamu's boot against the wood floors. With each step, his spurs clinked.

Osamu was a heavy-footed cowboy, walking with his hips forward and his head bowed.

The wide brim of his hat cast a shadow over his face. His shirt was made of a thick black material, the sleeves of which were folded up to his forearms. His jeans were coated in red clay, the gem on his bolo tie glinted in the oil lamplight.

Everyone's eyes followed the cowboy as he approached the bar.

The sound of his feet mimicked the slow advance of a trained horse.

/Clop./

/Clop./

He stopped at the bar and gave the bartender a flat look through his slitted eyes. The man quickly got to work, reaching for a bottle of something strong from the shelf behind him and popping open the cap.

It wasn't that the old town was afraid of Miya Osamu.

Well, perhaps they were a little bit.

What frightened them more was seeing Miya Osamu out and about when there were rumors of a visitor coming to town.

Thus, the moment the drink was in his hand, the whispers resumed.

/D'you think they'll have another shootout?/ Everyone wondered aloud.

/Maybe he'll disappear like he always does,/ others said, /it's not often the two of them cross paths./

Their whispers were no use, however. Osamu already heard the rumors and knew what was befalling the town. He knew who was coming.

"So ya heard already?" Aran asked him from his seat at the bar.

Osamu didn't have friends or confidants, cowboys rarely did. But he always exchanged a word or two with the regulars, especially the ones that had nursed him back to health.

They didn't have much choice when Osamu had appeared six months prior with his brother's body perched on his back and a gunshot wound in his side.

"Wolves," was the only word he could eke out before he collapsed.

"He's comin' to town," Rintarou muttered around the cigarette between his lips.

"Could be bullshit," Aran grumbled.

Aran was the town blacksmith. Rintarou was the town miscreant, providing a whole lot of nothing to the inhabitants other than smoking and drinking.

"Who knows anymore," Rintarou shrugged, "them wolves out in the woods are a vicious sort."

Osamu knew that. He didn't have anything to say that hadn't already been said. He tipped his hat a bit lower and took shelter in the shadow that befell his face.

"Yer not gonna pull yer gun on him, are ya?" Aran asked flatly.

"Remember what happened to the shoppe window?" Rintarou prodded, "You'll be run outta town if you do somethin' like that again."

"I won't be pullin' my gun," Osamu muttered, low and gravelly.

Though the hum of conversation had reached its normal pitch, everyone seemed to be lending an ear to the exchange at the bar.

"I still don't understand what he did to you to make you so damn hostile," Rintarou hummed, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "ya'll got bad blood or somethin'?"

Osamu's jaw hardened. He took a long swig from his drink.

"Yeah," he replied, "somethin' like that."

Whispers, again.

/He's outside!/ Someone hissed at the window.

/His horse looks mighty mangled,/ another hummed.

/Look at that bandage on his side./

Osamu's fingers tightened around the lukewarm bottle. He itched to reach for a cigarette from his pocket, but held back. He might need his hand to hold his pistol, later.

All the saloon's patrons had huddled around the window now, most too afraid to leave.

Miya Osamu, however, was a cowboy.

He had only been afraid once in his life;

watching his brother be lunged at by a vicious, snarling wolf.

Everyone ceased their chatter the moment Osamu began to walk. His path was straight, headed for the door without question.

His spurs clinked in time with his thudding footsteps. He kept his hat low over his eyes and let his fingers dance over the pistol in his holster.

He shoved himself out the door and into the town square. It was all red clay as far as the eye could see, rock formations mimicking mountains on the horizon.

There, breaking up the usual landscape, was a large white horse spotted with black.

Atop the horse was a cowboy.

His hair was all white, tipped with black.

Osamu's stomach wrung itself out inside his body. He laid his palm flat on the holster.

The cowboy's hat was low, as well, a wider brim making the shadow cover nearly his entire face. But Osamu didn't need to see it to know who this cowboy was.

He knew the sound of his spurs by heart and the rugged shape of his hands wrapped around the reins.

They watched each other for a moment while the townsfolk watched along in silence. Osamu gritted his teeth when the cowboy reached for his pistol.

It was a secret code.

Osamu turned and walked westward, towards his home. Because the cowboy's pistol was on the left side.

🐎🐎🐎

Osamu couldn't stand waiting.

He was an impatient sort of guy. It had served him poorly when he was healing from his wounds. All he wanted to do was toss himself on a new horse and ride free into the distance.

But he'd been forced back into his bed for nearly a month.

When that month was over, there wasn't a horse in town that would trust Osamu like his last horse had. He'd lost him to the wolves, too.

Thus, it took another few months for him to find a proper horse and train him up. By the time he was ready, a pack of foxes had come to the town to eat up all the stored food. The townspeople had begged Osamu to stay and run them off in exchange for a tidy sum.

Osamu had obliged.

Now, six months later, he had a small, two room house at the edge of town, far away from anyone else.

And it was in this house that he paced, his boots clopping against the dirt floor.

He considered giving up and preparing himself a meal of sorts. He considered throwing it all aside and mounting his horse to take a ride out towards the rocky creek.

He'd seen the code correctly, hadn't he?

Left side, house.

Right side, there isn't much time.

That was how it had always been.

Even though the knock had been suspected, it nearly made Osamu jump out of his skin.

All the townspeople had whispered amongst themselves as he sauntered back to his home, wondering what was going to become of the two cowboys.

/Will they have another shootout?/

/Will he finally run Osamu out of town?/

With an unsteady hand, Osamu turned the rusted handle of his front door.

Standing there was the cowboy with the black-tipped white hair, his horse bound to a post outside and his hat fitted around his head.

They stared at each other. Tension stretched between them.

They both took the initiative to break it.

Osamu's hands wrapped around the back of Kita Shinsuke's neck, pulling him close with an insistency that could rival even the wolves in the forest.

Kita's arm slung all across Osamu's shoulders, holding him firm with a powerful grip.

Their lips met in a flurry of want, laving over one another in a heated exchange of breath. Osamu's hands were everywhere all at once, tangling in the fabric of Kita's shirt and in his hair.

Kita's hat caught on Osamu's forehead. It tipped off his head and tumbled into the dirt.

It was forgotten instantly.

Their bodies gravitated towards the wall. Osamu felt his back thud up hard against the wood. He couldn't hear the noise it made over the sound of their panting breaths.

Kita's hands raced down to where Osamu's shirt was tucked into his pants. He started to tug on the fabric as his lips ducked down to the skin beneath Osamu's jaw.

"Thought--ya were--hh," Osamu shuddered beneath the sensation, "dead."

There were only so many words that he could come up with once Kita's hands were splayed on his bare stomach.

"It's been--," Osamu panted, "months. Thought the wolves had--"

He couldn't even finish the thought. His insides were turning to jelly, his fingers now locked in Kita's hair and his chest rumbling with little noises.

"I'd never die on you," Kita mumbled against the column of his throat.

"Sonuvabitch," Osamu hissed to himself before he captured Kita's lips once again.

Their directive was clear. This was how it was every time they had crossed paths on the trail. Now that Osamu had something of a permanent residence, it came around every time Shinsuke decided to visit.

In Osamu's cottage at the edge of town, they didn't have to worry about the noise they made or the curtain-less windows.

And now, they had time on their side.

"You been waitin' on me?" Kita asked as his nimble fingers began to undo his buttons.

"You think too highly of yerself," Osamu replied breathlessly.

"So do you."

Cowboys didn't always tell the truth. But in that moment, Osamu's body was all too honest--the flush of his cheeks and the want in his eyes and the insistency of his hands.

Truthfully, Osamu had been waiting.

He didn't know what for until that afternoon, a rumor that Kita was dead or the man himself at his doorstep.

Now, the wait was over.

Osamu thanked the heavens.

🌲🌲🌲

Miya Osamu awoke in the sweltering heat of the afternoon, his body slick with sweat and covered in his scratchy sheets.

Faintly, he could hear birds chirping outside the open window. He exhaled long and slow.

Kita was beside him. He was watching Osamu out of the corner of his eye, never daring to turn his head. He was too preoccupied with the ceiling above them, twiddling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

Osamu itched to get closer to him, perhaps feel the line of his body against his own once more. But he feared what it might mean.

This was all there was for them.

It was a pleasant sort of arrangement, a tidy one. When it was happening, it was happening. When it was over--

it was really over.

Osamu relented his efforts as Kita sat up against the headboard, his tanned chest on display to the orange afternoon light. He was littered with scars from scrapes and shots, Osamu's chest matched it, in many ways.

The only difference was the long, threefold scar that sliced through his chest--a wolf's mark.

"Lemme cook you up somethin' to eat," Osamu hummed, his eyes trailing along the ribs that poked through Kita's skin.

Kita's fiddling stopped for a moment. His hair, matted and mussed, brushed against his forehead with the breeze. His eyes narrowed somewhat.

"Can't," he replied.

"C'mon," Osamu pled flatly.

"You know I don't stay in one place too long," Kita replied.

Osamu did know that. He thought about those very words every day that Kita was gone. Cowboys weren't sedentary folks, by any means. Osamu was something of a special case with his house and his horse and his favorite spot at the rocky creek.

Kita was a true cowboy still. He had the scars and the grit to prove it.

But when it was happening, when /they/ were happening, Osamu swore he didn't feel the scars at all.

When he was reaching and holding and hoping, all he could feel was Shinsuke.

"Then we'll go down to the creek," Osamu muttered.

"Samu--" Kita sighed.

"Just for a bit."

Finally, Shinsuke glanced over. His eyes were gems, polished citrine inlaid in his head with great care, eyelids which hung low and were lined with pale lashes.

"There's no one that can get me out to that old creek but you," he hummed lowly.

Osamu suppressed a smile. He felt his face get hot again as he became aware of his lack of clothes and his proximity to Kita Shinsuke.

As they dressed, Osamu watched as the muscles in Kita's back fought for their chance at the forefront of his skin. He took note of the familiar scars along his back and the now faint marks of scratches all down it.

When they were dressed, the two of them abandoned the cottage and headed for their horses. They mounted and began to trot together in the direction of the creek. Osamu knew the way the best, so he led, but he had no doubts that Kita could find his way just as well.

The summer breeze fanned against Osamu's face as he rode in the open land. There was nothing but brush for miles, so he could ride freely and without worry.

He inhaled deeply and thought.

He thought of the first time he and Kita had crossed paths. They'd sat by the fire, that was all. And they talked and shared a pot of stew.

He thought of the second time they met, when pink-cheeked Osamu had helped him oil the bolts on his horse's harness and Kita had thanked him with a gentle smile.

He thought of the third time they crossed paths, a mere week before Atsumu had died, when they found themselves deep in the woods with no one around. Kita had kissed him, Osamu didn't have enough sense to kiss him back.

Then he thought of the third time, and the fourth time, and the fifth and the sixth and seventh and eighth and--

"Shit," he hissed to himself once he realized what he was doing.

The sound of Kita's horse clopping close behind him was comforting. Osamu didn't much fear the land if he wasn't braving it on his own. It was part of the reason he'd chosen to stay in the old town when Atsumu was gone.

He couldn't bear it all alone.

In the distance, Osamu could see the line of the creek. He could even hear it babbling as they grew nearer, the hoofbeats beneath him racing in time with its rhythm.

They were both practiced in approaching this creek.

As they had many times before, Osamu and Kita found the tree where they always tied their horses and stopped just short of it, whinnies echoing through the air.

Kita hopped off his horse first, reaching for the rope on his belt loop.

Osamu only let himself watch for a moment before he did the same, fumbling a bit with the knot against the bark.

The trees were sparse in the plains, only a few could be accounted for around the water. But there was one that had grown mighty and tall. Beneath it was a flattened rock. A few feet away was the creek.

Kita reached it first, tossing his body against it with a sigh as he took his hat in his hand. Once he was splayed against the flattened rock, he placed the hat on his chest and took in the sunlight.

Osamu froze a few feet away, his mouth dry at the sight of Kita glittering beneath the sun's rays. The babbling brook encouraged him forward until he, too, was at the rock.

Osamu knelt down and took his rightful place at Kita's side, just like always.

He placed his hat beside his hip. Kita's arm snaked through the space between his neck and the rock, his hand wrapping around his shoulder to pull him closer.

Osamu obliged, overcome by the dreamy yet familiar landscape around them.

He took in a deep breath of Kita's still sweaty skin, overlaid by the scent of red clay. Kita huffed out a sigh, his eyes fluttered closed.

/Forever,/ Osamu thought.

/I want this forever./

Osamu's hand rose to the level of Kita's cheek. Slowly, he brushed the skin of his cheekbone with the back of his knuckle. It was impossibly soft, uncharacteristic for a cowboy.

Osamu's insides tightened when Kita leaned into the touch with a little throaty noise.

When they kissed, it was real.

It was a race, sometimes, judging who could make the other feel like they'd gone crazy the fastest.

But sometimes, like now, it was slow and sweet--Osamu's lips slotted with Kita's and their hands moving slow as molasses over their skin.

There was the ghost of a cigarette on Kita's lips. Osamu's hand gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. Birds chirped overhead.

The sun was no match for the shade of their mighty tree.

Kita's nose teased the crease that trailed from the edge of his nostril down toward the corner of his mouth. Osamu felt his own nose be crushed by how close they were.

When they parted, it was a breathless request for more.

But Osamu found himself reeling in the momentary pause. He let his eyes flutter open.

A haphazard question fell from his lips, one he knew he should never ask of Kita Shinsuke:

"Why won't you stay?"

🏞🏞🏞

(part 2 will come tomorrow !!)

here's the top of the thread

https://twitter.com/starbeyy/status/1535352777215451136?s=20