Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Cary, honey," Matthew says, "are we really talking about this?"

Cary Emerson shrugs. "Why not? We used to have people in, sometimes. How would this be so different?"

They're lying in bed, and this conversation - not quite argument - had started while cleaning up after dinner. It had begun as a joke, then briefly detoured into the realm of foreplay, before becoming a debate.

"Hmm, well let's see. First, there's the fact that it's not like Harlan has some kind of vibrant gay scene. They are literally the only ones we know. I'm not so sure I want to risk things getting weird, no matter how damn sexy they are."

"They are really sexy though, huh?"

Matthew rolls his eyes. "And second, sometimes I wonder if they even are, like, gay at all. Sometimes I think they're a couple of really fucking weird straight dudes who are just completely obsessed with each other." He laughs, and continues, "Neither of them has ever been with another guy, you said Raylan told you that. Or, I'm sorry, 'the Sheriff,' I know how you get off on that."

Cary grins. "A Sheriff and an outlaw. Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid."

Matthew snorts and says, "Yes, quite an outlaw. Chickens and moonshine. If he were in a Western, his nickname would be the Appalachian Grandma."

Cary shrugs in acknowledgement, but says, "You remember him from before Ava died. Before Raylan came back. And you've heard the stories from before all that, what he used to be into. He's killed people. Jesus, they've both killed people, Raylan probably even more than Boyd."

Matthew is staring at him. "You really like that, don't you, you sick fuck?" He rolls over on top of Cary, trapping his arms at his side. Matthew is taller, with a larger frame, broad shoulders.

Matthew pulls off Cary's glasses and sets them gently on the nightstand. His face, which Cary has always found impossibly handsome, goes a little blurry, just enough to soften the lines and make him look 24 again, like when they'd met.

"Want to know a secret?" Matthew asks.

"Of course," Cary says, smiling softly up at him.

"I like it too," he says, and kisses him, brushing his dark blonde hair back from his face. "So, what would you want to do, like, specifically?"

"Specifically? Well... I mean, really, it would be fun enough just to watch them."

Matthew raises his eyebrows skeptically. "You liar. Come on. I'm not asking what you'd settle for, I'm asking what you want."

Cary laughs and says, "I'd like to see your dick in Boyd Crowder's mouth. How's that?" He reaches down and takes Matthew in his hand. "Seems like that's okay with you."

Matthew grunts and says, "What else?"

"I'd love to see how the Sheriff reacts to that. You think he'd get jealous?"

Matthew grins and replies, "I don't know. Are you hoping he'll pull his gun on me?" He strokes the side of Cary's face and hitches into him. "Or on you?" he asks, winking.

That gets a reaction, and Cary doesn't try to hide it, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he says, "I don't know about the Sheriff, but judging from the way Boyd was all over you that day, after the thing with those Elk Creek guys, I'd say he's into more than just the one guy."

"He was on E, Cary," Matthew says. "He'd have been into anything. One time I was on that and I made out with two different girls in one night."

"Ew, shut up, I don't want to hear about that," he laughs.

"Oh, sure," Matthew says, grinning evilly, "you get turned on by it when it's those two hillbillies and their southern belle wives, but god forbid you picture me kissing a couple of freaky club girls."

"Seriously, stop. You're gonna put me off my game."

"I'm just saying," Matthew says.

Cary rolls him over suddenly and pushes him back with a hand on his chest. "Well, just don't," he says, sliding down and taking his length into his mouth all at once, effectively shutting him up, aside from some appreciative moans and hisses and gasps.

It actually did bother him, just a little, to hear about that, which he is aware doesn't make any sense. He loves the idea of it with regards to other guys, but he really wants no part of it with his own boyfriend. Maybe that makes him an asshole, could be, especially since it was just a one-time, drug-induced thing.

After they've both had their turn, they lay beside each other, and Cary curls into Matthew. "I'm sorry I got weirded out, that was dumb."

"Were you really? I thought you were joking." He props himself up on an elbow and looks at him. "It was just that one time. Think of it as my college lesbian phase."

Cary laughs. "Yeah, okay. You didn't eat any pussy though, did you?"

"Good lord, no. I wouldn't know where to start. You're the doctor, you'd probably be better prepared than me."

"This conversation has taken an unfortunate turn," Cary says. "I'm going to sleep before you give me nightmares."

Matthew grins. "Sounds like straight panic to me. Maybe you protest too much."

"Shut up." He turns over and closes his eyes, but it's awhile before he falls asleep. He has a lot on his mind.

The conversation only happened in the first place because they were discussing the party they have planned for the following night. The electric company had been delivering flyers for weeks in anticipation of a power turn-on. Everyone's been buzzing about it, and they're having Raylan, Boyd, Kathleen and Nancy over to celebrate. They'd invited Loretta and Chris too, but they're both working for the power company these days and will be on duty that night.

Probably nothing will happen. Raylan and Boyd are, as Matthew said, obsessed with each other. And if they were going to play, he can only assume they might want to share a woman or two rather than mess around with them. Still, it's fun to think about.

For the party, Matthew makes a punch with moonshine and dandelion wine, muddled canned peaches and ginger beer he got from some home brewer over in Berea. It's not bad, and Cary tries not to think too hard about the cocktails he used to make, back when they could stock their bar during a weekend trip to New York or Chicago. Or even Louisville, for God's sake. Matthew had tended bar at a very trendy, upscale club during college, and he loves inventing drinks.

Their guests arrive at around seven, and the power is supposed to come on at about eight. They've been instructed to unplug all appliances, which they've done. As for light switches, it's impossible to tell in rooms where there's more than one switch.

Nancy and Kathleen bring a pound cake, and Raylan and Boyd donate a bottle of bourbon they'd gotten the last time Raylan had to go up to Lexington about the Elk Creek business. Cary has wondered why Boyd always goes to Lexington with Raylan, but he can't think of a non-rude way to ask.

Dinner is sort of like tapas, if one is being generous. Good ingredients are hard to come by, but they'd gone out of their way for this, because they're turning on the juice, and it's a big fucking deal. They got some meat, and some fish, some butter, begged eggs off of Raylan and Boyd, and they'd made do. It's not a bad spread.

They have drinks and talk, dinner comes and goes, and at a bit after eight - they wait until almost quarter after, all trying to pretend they're tempering their expectations - they flick a light switch up and down. Nothing. They plug in a toaster, and nothing. So they sit back down to pound cake and more punch, and they wait.

They sit at the dining room table long after dessert has been eaten and cleared away, talking about the past, things they miss about the old days, things they don't.

They all miss the movies, as it turns out, though they don't all share the same tastes. Raylan and Cary talk about Westerns, and how they'd loved watching them on tv on Sunday afternoons, when they always seemed to be on. The washed-out, strange color of the studio films of the 1960s, with their black and white ideas, and the gritty realism of the ones from the 70s, with their anti-heroes, all of them highly romantic in their own ways, had obviously wedged themselves deeply into Raylan's self-perception long ago.

Nancy and Kathleen are drinking far more slowly than the others, even though Cary knows Nancy can put it away better than he can. They probably want to head home soon, watch the power come on in their own place, which he can understand.

Boyd and Raylan don't seem to want to go anywhere. They both seem to get slightly on edge when the conversation turns to how things might be in the future, with the power back on. He can understand that too, with the way they are.

Matthew is talking to Kathleen about horror movies, Rosemary's Baby being his all-time favorite. She says she prefers the slasher films of the 80s, which no one was expecting, and they all turn to stare at her.

"What?" she asks, defensively. "I love how you know exactly what's going to happen, and you can't stop them from fucking everything up. That's the scariest feeling of all. It's like a nightmare."

"It's like real life," Raylan says, and she nods in agreement.

Boyd says, "I never was a big movie guy as an adult. Didn't have much patience for sitting around watching the same predictable shit all the time."

"I get it," Raylan says, stretching casually, "takes a lot of focus to recruit and train violent, racist criminals. Not a lot of time left over for When Harry Met Sally." Boyd doesn't bother to respond, just shoots him a dirty look, which makes Raylan grin.

"Anyhow," Boyd says, "so the ones I saw that didn't seem like every other movie, those ones stuck. Like, did you ever see The 400 Blows? And shut up, Raylan," he says sharply, cutting off a snort, "what are you, 12? It ain't a porno."

"I know what it is," Raylan says, "Winona made me watch it one time." He shrugs. "It was good. Even with subtitles."

Matthew isn't even trying to disguise the way he's staring at Boyd now. He's fairly drunk and not really being too careful. Cary is sure he's picturing him watching French New Wave films by himself after his neo-Nazi cohorts leave for the day. With his shirt off, no doubt.

Boyd quirks his mouth at Raylan, maybe to apologize for making assumptions. That they seemed to have developed that kind of shorthand after only two years is kind of fascinating. Maybe it's left over from before.

"The first movie I ever saw that seemed original to me was the first Evil Dead movie," Boyd is saying. "Something about that, it was so brutal, but with this amazing sense of humor too."

"Oh," Matthew laughs, "so it had nothing to do with how sexy Bruce Campbell was back in those days."

Cary's eyes feel like they're going to pop out of his skull, and he brushes a hand across his face. He doesn't look at Raylan, but in his peripheral vision he can see the man shaking with silent laughter.

Some sort of silent communication seems to happen between Nancy and Kathleen, and Kathleen smiles pleasantly, saying, "We're pretty tired, boys. I guess we'll have to wait 'til tomorrow to see the lights come on."

Nancy's lips are pressed tight against a laugh, and she nods at them, her eyes twinkling. "Night, fellas," she forces out. She gives Boyd a kiss on his cheek - he's always been a favorite of hers - and winks at him.

Boyd frowns at her like he has no idea what she's on about, but says, "You two alright to make it home safe?"

"We ain't nearly as far gone as you four. We'll be fine. Y'all have fun now."

They leave, and Matthew is carefully avoiding his eyes. Which is good, because it's hard enough trying not to bust up just looking at Raylan and Boyd. They're either clueless, or nervous as shit, it's hard to tell. Everyone moves to the living room.

"Um, so," Cary says, "anyone feel like smoking up?" He pulls a jar and a little one-hitter out of an end table.

Raylan and Boyd look at each other, presumably having some sort of conversation with their eyes, then shrug simultaneously in an almost identical fashion. "Sure," Raylan says. "You get that from Loretta?"

"No," Cary says, "her shit's not ready yet. This is by way of Johnny Crowder." He smiles and loads up the little pipe. "What's the deal with him, anyway? Sometimes I get the feeling he's not as stupid as he looks."

"He's just smart enough for you to think that, but not smart enough to hide it all the time," Boyd says, scowling. "He has good intuition, but he sucks at analysis. Case in point, he figured it out about me and Raylan years ago."

"That doesn't take a genius," Cary mutters, then sucks in a lungful of smoke.

"For someone who grew up like we did? It kind of does. Or, no, not a genius, but someone capable of making leaps." Boyd takes the freshly loaded bowl from him and holds it up to his mouth. He says, "But even though he knew it, in his gut, he still got surprised when he actually found out. We even basically told him, and he still didn't believe it until he walked into my house and saw us naked on the damn couch." He hits the pipe while Matthew and Cary laugh, and Raylan flushes.

They pass the weed around twice, then put it down for a bit. Everyone has gone quiet, but it's a peaceful silence, stretching on comfortably, until Matthew says, "So, like, is it really true that neither of you was ever with another dude before you were with each other?"

Raylan gives him a wry half-smile and says, "I thought the doc was the one with all the burning questions."

"I just... that's so..." Matthew pauses, most likely searching for something that won't offend them, and Cary wishes him luck with that.

Boyd says, "It's so what? Fucked up? It is, ain't it? It's fucking crazy."

"Well, I mean, it's just unusual, I guess," he replies diplomatically.

Raylan is looking away, clearly uncomfortable, but Boyd says, "It ain't unusual, it's stupid.”

Raylan says, “I never felt like I was missing anything, really. Sometimes I’d wonder, but it ain’t like... I mean, if I thought about it at all, it wasn't nothing I couldn't shrug off. It never felt like anything big, or uh, real, until I was back here with Boyd."

Matthew looks at Raylan like that's the cutest thing he's ever heard, which Cary can't really fault him for. It is cute, and sweet, though not necessarily the healthiest thing he's ever heard.

Matthew says, “Raylan, didn’t you live in Miami for awhile? And you never...”

Raylan’s shoulders go up, and he says, “I mostly concentrated on work down there. My head was kinda wrecked from my divorce, anyway.”

Cary and Matthew glance at each other, and Cary says, “That sounds like the perfect opportunity to ditch the bitch, and make the switch!” He does some sort of awkward snapping thing in front of his face, which he knows looks perfectly ridiculous, and the other three burst out laughing. He’s never been able to pull that shit off. “Seriously, though,” he says, “if you were going to, that seems like the time and the place.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Raylan says, then smirks. “But I’ll keep it in mind in case I’m ever single again.”

“Too bad you’re so fuckin’ old now,” Boyd says. “I can just see you, creepin’ in the clubs, trying to pick up twenty year old Cuban boys.”

Raylan makes a face and picks up the weed again. He’s loading up the bowl as he says, “Well, if you feel like you missed out and you’re so goddamn curious, I ain’t gonna stop you.” He lights up and kills the whole bowl in one go, then gets to loading it up again to pass.

Boyd takes it from him with a huff, and says, “Stop me? I’d love to see you try.”

Raylan looks at him, apparently highly irritated, but unsurprised. "I just said, I’m not going to," he points out. "Why, would you like me to? You want me to be jealous or some stupid shit like that?”

“Well, hell, Raylan,” Boyd replies, glowering at him. “You could at least offer a token resistance. Like, just pretend like it bothers you even a little bit.”

Cary and Matthew have both been watching this conversation raptly, occasionally making eye contact and exchanging amused faces. Boyd passes the bowl to Matthew, and Matthew says, “So, are you? Curious?”

Boyd stares at him, his eyes a little glazed from the weed, and says, “I might be.”

Matthew says, “Well, it’s not like Harlan has a club scene or anything.”

Raylan rolls his eyes at that and looks at Cary. “If they’re gonna act like junior high kids at a dance all night, maybe we should find a way to entertain ourselves. What you you think, doc?”

Cary blinks at Raylan a few times, finding himself slow in processing things in general, at the moment, and he wants to make sure he’s understanding him properly. Then he grins and takes Raylan’s outstretched hand, letting him pull him down over him as he leans against the arm of the sofa.

Raylan's body is warm and feels very solid, very strong. Cary tries to stop thinking about what might be going on at the other end of the sofa, and concentrate on this absurd fantasy underneath him. He can feel the ridge of Raylan's cock against his thigh, and when he drags his leg up against it, Raylan gives a shudder and yanks him closer, kissing him for the first time.

Raylan is a good kisser, possessing that rare combination of responsiveness and assertiveness, and Cary knows he should be giving him his undivided attention. It's Raylan Givens. His fifteen year old self would want to smack the shit out of him for craning his neck around to see what Matthew and Boyd are up to, but that is what he does.

Boyd is sitting on Matthew's lap, unbuttoning his own shirt while Matthew works at his belt. Just as Boyd's shirt slips from his shoulders, revealing that awful tattoo, Raylan slides his hand between Cary's legs. He groans, and turns back to face Raylan, leaning into him again and kissing him.

He listens to the other two while Raylan reaches into his pants, rubbing him on the outside of his shorts, and can't help looking back once more. Boyd is a talker, apparently, and Cary hears him say, "Your boy like to watch? We should show him something, then."

Raylan heard it too, it seems, because he smiles into their kiss and sits up a little straighter. "Is that what you want to do? Go on, then. You can watch."

Cary is a little embarrassed, and he feels torn. Raylan kisses him again, thrusting fingers into his hair. "Don't worry about it, I don't care. Just..." He slides out from under him and kneels down on the floor, tugging at the waistband of Cary's underwear. He lifts up and helps him slide it down, and Raylan puts his mouth on him just as he turns his head to stare straight into the eyes of Boyd Crowder.

Boyd smiles at him, then closes his eyes briefly and lets out a hard little exhalation as Matthew pulls up on him, his mouth working at Boyd's chest. When he opens them again, he glances down at Raylan, whose head is between Cary's legs.

"Bet you thought he'd be shit at that," Boyd says, raising his eyes again.

Cary had, sort of, expected him to be less accomplished than he is. He thought he'd probably be boring, at least, but no. "He's really good," he says to Boyd, who grins at him.

Matthew lifts his head and takes Boyd by the jaw, turning his head forward and pulling him down to kiss his mouth. When it breaks, he murmurs to his lips, "We should all go in the bedroom. More comfortable in there. And we can..." He trails off as Boyd leans forward and starts doing something to his ear, but Cary knows what he wants. He wants to touch Raylan too, no surprise there.

Cary threads his fingers into Raylan's hair and gently tugs upwards. Raylan pulls off smoothly and smiles up at him. Jesus. No wonder Boyd had been hung up on him for twenty years.

"Come on," he says, "let's move it to the bed."

Raylan stands up and offers a hand to pull him up from the couch. He takes it, only realizing once he's standing up, how stoned he is, still. He feels dizzy for a moment, and steadies himself on Raylan's arm.

"Alright, there, doc?"

"Fine, Sheriff," Cary says, giggling. Ugh, I sound like a fourteen year old girl. He feels suddenly self-conscious, but Raylan just grins at him, so he shakes it off.

They follow Matthew and Boyd into the bedroom, and Cary brings the small battery-operated lamp they'd been using in the living room. It’s a little awkward, the change of scenery, and they don’t really look at each other while they all strip off the rest of their clothes.

Cary has always been happy enough with his own body. In his late 30s now, he’s slim and fit, with a smallish build and not a great deal of body hair. Matthew has a great body, tall and lanky, and looks as good, or better even, now as he did the day they met. Even still, when Raylan takes his clothes off, Cary has a brief, sudden urge to just put his back on and walk out. No one should look that good, certainly not someone even older than himself. It’s intimidating as hell, but he fights his way past it, and takes a long look at Boyd instead.

Boyd has a more wiry build, with nice shoulders and muscular arms, but very slim. The arms, of course, while well-built, are sort of tainted by the Nazi ink on them. He wonders how Raylan can look at that every day, if it calls up the bad times they’d had when Raylan first came back to Kentucky. Maybe he likes that, though, in some strange way. Maybe they both do.

Boyd sees him looking and raises his eyebrows at him in what looks like a challenge. “Something you want, Emerson?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Cary says, very high and feeling reckless, “I want to watch you suck my man’s dick. That work for you?”

Boyd snorts, dismissing whatever slight edge of hostility might have come through. “I was planning on it. Long as you take good care of Raylan, that works just fine for me.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” Raylan says, stretching himself out on the king-sized bed.

“I swear to God,” Matthew says, “are you guys hustling us somehow? How are you... the way you are? Who the fuck are you?”

“Man, don’t worry about it,” Boyd says. “It took us a long time to get here, just like it does everyone, we just took a different path. Or two different paths. You want to know about all that, maybe you can ask later. That ain’t what we’re doing right now.”

Raylan reaches up from where he’s lying and catches Boyd’s wrist, pulling him down for a kiss. Cary watches them, and it is actually beautiful, they way they are, even if it’s strange, and if it is a little codependent, it’s also mutually beneficial. Anyway, it’s none of his business how they deal with their relationship.

Boyd straightens up and walks over to Matthew, sort of pushing him towards the bed until he sits. Boyd climbs on top of him and pushes him back until he’s lying next to Raylan, then locks eyes with Cary, still standing beside the bed, as he crawls down Matthews body, trailing his mouth down the body so familiar and loved to Cary, but brand new to Boyd. The feeling, as always, is halfway between excitement and fear, desire and a slight tang of sadness that he can’t quite put his finger on, but which he loves for the way it feels when he gets him back all to himself again.

Matthew groans when Boyd swallows him down, and Cary takes himself in hand, pumping slowly as he watches.

“Hey,” Raylan says, “I can do that for you, you want.” Cary looks down at him.

“Oh,” he replies, “yeah. I sort of forgot.” He smiles a little sheepishly.

“You got pretty fucked up, huh?” Raylan says.

“Guess so.”

“Well, come here, then, Jesus,” Raylan says, so he does. He’d been feeling set apart from everyone, like he was watching a scene instead of being in one. Raylan pulls him down and rolls him over on his back, kissing him, but still letting him look over when he wants to.

It feels good, fantastic really, having Raylan’s weight on him, keeping him in the middle of things, on the inside with everyone else. He feels like he drifts away sometimes, especially when he gets high, and he wouldn’t have expected Raylan to notice, or to try to take care of him in that way. Maybe he should have; they are friends, after all.

Raylan moves himself into place and takes their cocks together in his long- fingered hand, stroking slowly. He turns to watch Matthew and Boyd for a bit too, they both do, as his fist moves over both of them.

Matthew's eyes are closed and his head is thrown back as Boyd sucks him. He looks like he might be close, and Cary reaches over to brush the side of his face. Matthew opens his eyes at his touch and turns to smile at him. He stares into Cary's eyes until his face goes slack with pleasure. He grabs at Boyd's hair, thrusting up from the bed and lets out a long groan as he comes.

Boyd sits up, wiping the corner of his mouth and looking a little dazed, like he's still pretty high himself. He kneels, straddling Matthew's chest, grabs a handful of his hair with one hand and jerks himself off with the other.

Cary comes just as Boyd does, not explosively like Boyd - Cary watches his come streak across Matthew's jaw and lips, and it's so fucking hot - but sweetly, almost slowly, under Raylan's strong hand.

When Boyd gets up, Matthew moves to wipe his face, but Cary grabs his hand. Raylan sees him do that and he grins, then gets up off of him, moves over to the middle between Matthew and Cary. He props himself up on an elbow, leans over and starts licking and kissing Boyd's come off his mouth. Cary strokes his back, and Matthew reaches for him. It only takes a few pumps before he's grasping at Matthew's hip, biting his lip as he shudders through his release.

Matthew goes to the other room for a couple washcloths. Boyd gets up from where he'd been sitting at the end of the bed, and slides in next to Raylan. Matthew comes back and hands out cloths, then lies down close to Cary and wraps him up in his arms. He mouths the word, "Okay?" to him, and Cary just smiles, laying his head down on his shoulder.

Raylan is tracing lazy patterns on Boyd's chest, and then his fingers stray over to the swastika tattoo, his thumb swiping across it as if he might rub it away. It doesn't look like a conscious thing, more like he does it all the time. His eyes are blinking slowly, sleepily, but they open when Matthew's voice breaks the reverie.

"Hey, I just want to say that you guys are fucking awesome. That was hot as hell, and I know I said you were weird, but-"

"Actually," Boyd cuts in, "I ain't sure you said that part out loud, man." Raylan chuckles, real low, and burrows himself deeper into Boyd's side.

"Oh," Matthew says, laughing and blushing a little, "yeah, well, you are pretty weird, though. But like, really cool. And what I said, about how you are, whatever your deal is, I'm totally on board with it. It works."

Cary laughs and says, "Honey, you always start sounding like a Valley girl when you get high. What is that about?"

"What the hell is a Valley girl, you geezer?"

Raylan is laughing again, half-muffled by Boyd's arm. "Is this how you always are? Or are we just a bad influence?"

"When we start doing that out in public, you can start worrying about your bad example," Cary replies.

He reaches across Matthew's chest and pats Raylan on the arm. He's not even thinking about the gesture, but he's feeling warm towards him at the moment. Raylan had been so unexpectedly conscientious about him when they were fooling around, and he feels suddenly very lucky to have come back to Harlan. This was not anywhere close to what he'd pictured when he'd first talked Matthew into coming here.

Raylan looks over at him and smiles, then turns over, pulling Boyd's arm around him from behind. Cary turns out the little lamp, and suddenly there's one of those moments that feel like magic, that make you think, for a second, that you control the universe, because at the same time the lamp goes out, the overhead light flickers. It goes on dimly, the light fluttering over them, then goes out again. They all hold their breath, and then the light comes on strong.

Cary laughs like he's out of breath - he feels like it, like his heart is in his throat and blocking out the air. He grins like an idiot and sits up in bed. He feels wide awake, even though seconds before he'd been falling asleep. Everyone else looks the same.

He jumps out of bed and throws on some sweatpants. He wants to put on a CD, or charge his iPod, or plug in his fucking laptop.

"What should we do?" he asks, feeling paralyzed by options. It's been so long since he's had this many.

"Well," Raylan says, "it might not last that long."

"I don't care about that. What do you want to do?"

All three of them are sitting up now, and everyone looks very excited. They also look apprehensive, if not outright scared. It doesn't take that long to adapt to a new reality, and they've long since adapted to the loss of electricity. If it's back, that's another adaptation they'll have to make.

"You got any DVDs?" Boyd asks.

"Sure," Cary says. "They're in boxes in the crawl space. I'll get them, we can watch something. That's a great idea."

The idea of watching DVDs is surreal at this point. Almost as surreal as not being able to watch them had been, for a long time. Cary retrieves the ladder from the basement and climbs up into the space under the roof. He hands two dusty crates down to Matthew, who is waiting underneath.

Cary knows the lights could go out at any time, but he's holding out hope. He really wants to watch a damn movie. It's been forever.

They all dig through the boxes, with their mix of classic films and cringe-worthy guilty pleasures (Boyd pulls out the copy of Mommy Dearest and holds it up with a smirk and no comment), until Raylan finds a limited edition release of Evil Dead with the rubbery Book of the Dead cover and nudges Boyd with his elbow.

Boyd gets a huge grin on his face and looks at Matthew, who says, "No fucking way. I am far too high, still, to watch a dude who looks like me get attacked by corpses in a cabin in the middle of hillbilly country."

They end up agreeing on Pulp Fiction, which somehow Boyd has never seen, piling back into bed like children at a sleepover.

Cary finds that it hardly takes any time at all for this to seem normal - to be watching a video, that is, not being in bed with Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder; it's hard to imagine taking that for granted - and he lets himself get lost in the familiar rhythms of the film.

He remembers seeing it on a date when it came out, one of his first dates with his first boyfriend, during college. It had been, as Boyd might say, not like everything else. It borrowed from a hundred other things, but it was unique. Of course, not for long, because everyone tried to copy it, but at the time he'd been captivated by it.

Raylan falls asleep during the scene at the restaurant where Travolta dances with Uma Thurman, and Matthew nods off, somehow, during the epic fight scene in the pawn shop basement. Boyd stays wide awake, though, into it. Cary watches him watching it for a minute, then looks back at the screen.

When it's over, Cary gets up to switch it off, and Boyd is leaning back against the headboard, looking at him. He says, "I never saw this because I was sure it couldn't live up to expectations. Too many people liked it, so I thought it must be overrated. But sometimes, something just happens, or is created, at just the right time to get everyone's attention. Every once in awhile, something can be really good, and really popular at the same time. I think that's amazing."

Cary smiles at him. "You're something different, Crowder, you know that? You're like the Spanish Inquisition."

Boyd laughs softly. "Because no one expects me. That's true. Why do you think I was such a successful outlaw?"

Cary walks over and gives him a very brief kiss on his mouth. "I meant to do that earlier."

"Maybe I'll get you next time," Boyd says, yawning and sliding down and pulling the blanket up over himself. "Night."

"Uh, yeah. Night." Cary curls himself into Matthew, who stirs briefly and shifts over, and goes to sleep knowing he's going to wake up to a different world.

Chapter Text

Matthew had not wanted to move to Harlan. He'd been happy enough in Louisville, though he wouldn't have minded moving somewhere else, bigger, maybe north. But Harlan - when Cary first brought that up, Matthew had laughed, but not in a mean way; he'd assumed he was joking.

He'd been dead serious, though. Cary's father had passed away and his mother wasn't doing great. His sister wasn't an option - she lived in California and had three kids under the age of four - and that left only him. As it was, he'd started driving down there more or less monthly to make sure she was okay.

Almost two years had passed before he'd finally agreed to do it. Cary hadn't nagged. He'd brought it up a few more times, asking him to think about it, telling him it felt important to do it, and that they could leave after a year if they hated it. Finally, Matthew had relented, but had insisted on keeping their house in Louisville and renting it out.

After the first year had passed, Matthew still hadn't been sure. There were things he liked about Harlan, and they did drive to Lexington regularly, but it had felt a little bit lonely. They were friendly with some people, and there hadn't been much of the kind of bigotry he'd feared - at least, not out loud, not to their faces - but he'd always felt that they were not really part of any community here. He hadn't imagined making any close friends here.

Matthew had been close to bringing up moving back. He missed their friends, and he hadn't found any work since they'd moved. Not that they didn't have plenty to live on, but he'd never been the type to fuss over the house much, and there was only so much reading, television and working out a person could take.

Then the power had gone out, and everything had changed. At first, like everyone else, they'd assumed it was temporary, that it would be back up in a week or two, tops. Then a month passed, two months, six. By then, it was just the way things were, and Matthew never mentioned moving.

He'd known who Boyd Crowder was, by then. He'd taken control very quickly, had seemed to understand before most people what the new reality was. He was a very visible presence in the town, and was rarely seen without his wife, Ava, by his side.

When Boyd took over, Cary told Matthew a few stories about the man. What sort of family he came from, how he'd always had his face in a book at lunch, or when he was outside the school smoking, pretty much any time, except when he was talking to his best friend, Raylan Givens.

"The two of them made such an unlikely match," Cary had told him, "but somehow perfect. Raylan was all surface shine and beauty, but there was a darkness just below the surface."

He told Matthew the story of that baseball game in high school, when he'd destroyed a boy's leg, and of the bruises he'd have on his face some days.

"Boyd Crowder was always cocky and ruthless," Cary continued, "shiny too in his way, but cold. Except to Raylan. You could see it behind his eyes then, this intense warmth that he hid most of the time. You can see it now, with Ava. How he looks at her, that's how he looked at that boy."

When Ava died, most of what he'd been had simply shattered, had become too brittle to stand. All that had been left was that tender heart, raw and exposed. Most people in Harlan were certain he would kill himself, one way or another.

Matthew first heard about Raylan's return from Nancy Thomas, with whom they traded for eggs and produce, and who was one half of the town's one (open, at least) lesbian couple.

"Guess who came around here," she said, positively busting with gossip that she obviously thought was juicy. "Boyd Crowder!" she said, before he could respond.

"Why is that such a big deal?" Matthew asked.

"He ain't been by here since Ava was killed," she said, "and suddenly he's here and trading labor for eggs and fruit. But that ain't the real news. He had a friend with him." She beamed. "A real old friend. Boy named Raylan Givens, I knew him as a kid. He was the nephew of a good friend of mine, real beautiful boy."

"I heard of him," he replied, "Cary mentioned him when he was telling me stuff about Boyd Crowder in high school."

"I'm sure he did," she said, nodding. "Hard to talk about Boyd as a youngster without talking about Raylan, too. And of course, Raylan had a hand in what Boyd ended up as before Ava died, too. It's almost enough to make you start thinking about intertwined destinies and mystical shit like that."

Matthew frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Raylan stayed out of Kentucky for twenty years, became a Marshal. He's back a month, and he's sent down to investigate a crime Boyd allegedly committed. Well, did, most likely. Raylan ends up sleeping with Boyd's brother's widow - and can you guess who that was?"

"Ava," Matthew said softly, into this story now. It was already sort of crazy and it sounded like she had lots more to tell.

"You got it. So Raylan's fucking Ava, and Boyd comes over there making trouble, ends up getting himself shot by Raylan at the dinner table. Almost dies. Has a religious conversion, probably spurious, blows a bunch of shit up, lots of folks die. I don't know the details, but it was well past fucked up, and I don't know any of it would have happened if Raylan hadn't come back to Kentucky."

Matthew narrowed his eyes at her. "Cary seems to think the two of them had some sort of... relationship when they were young. I figured that might have been just wishful thinking."

Nancy grinned. "Well, I'll tell you, Helen - that was Raylan's aunt - always thought so. I wasn't certain, I thought maybe they were just real close, on account of coming up in a similar situation - although, Raylan's was worse. His daddy was a violent drunk. Boyd's daddy was just a sociopath. But when they was here yesterday, I saw what she meant. Anyway, Boyd looked a lot better. He even laughed a few times when Raylan would make a joke."

"So, out of curiosity," Matthew said. "Is he still beautiful?"

"Shit," Nancy cackled, "That don't hardly cover it. I'm mostly past them days, but there was a time I wouldn't have minded a man like that for a night."

"Is he living in Harlan now?

Nancy shrugged. "Didn't say so," she said. "But he didn't say he wasn't. I think maybe he don't know what the hell he wants to do now, like a lot of folks."

When he got home, he told Cary about what she'd said. Cary got a big smile on his face and said, "I knew it. I fucking knew it."

Matthew laughed at him. "You don't know shit. All you know is he came down here for some reason and was hanging out with Boyd Crowder."

Cary shook his head. "I know the way they looked at each other. If you'd seen them, you'd believe me. And Raylan Givens... Jesus. You'd only have to have the tiniest of interest in men to want him. He was just... well, hell, I'll show you." He grinned and jumped up, went to the basement and came back a few minutes later with a dusty old yearbook.

Cary turned pages until he found what he was looking for, then handed the book to Matthew. It was a photo of three boys in baseball uniforms, standing by a pitcher's mound. It might have been after winning a game, because they were dirty and grinning ear to ear. One of them, a tall, lean boy, was holding his cap in his hand and had a hand on his hip, his hair sweaty and hanging in his face.

"Dear god," Matthew said. "Is that him?" He points at the boy.

Cary grinned and raised an eyebrow at him. "See?"

Matthew nodded. "Nancy says he's still gorgeous. She seemed quite taken with him."

"I believe my point has been made," Cary said dryly.

"It's hard to imagine him being so into someone like Boyd Crowder, though. It's not like he's some kind of Adonis."

Cary shrugged. "Boyd was definitely less conventional - skinny, intense, but he sometimes smiled in a way that made his face almost pretty. Not feminine, but like, beautiful almost. I only ever saw him smile that way at Raylan."

"Was that all?" Matthew asked, stretching him self out on the couch, his legs over Cary's lap. "Just the way they looked at each other?

"No," Cary said, "but that would have been enough. I wonder if he's really back."

A month or so later, they'd started hearing gossip. Raylan Givens was back, he'd left the Marshals, was going to be Sheriff. He was living with Boyd Crowder, and the sentiment Matthew heard more than anything else was, "Well, that ain't no big surprise."

One evening, about a week after they'd heard that news, there was a knock at their door. Matthew opened it to find a tall, lean man in a cowboy hat, with a gun holstered at his hip. The face was slightly weathered, but unmistakeable from the yearbook photo.

"Hello," the man said, touching the brim of his hat. "Is Cary Emerson here? I'm Raylan Givens, the new Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself, since I hear he's the Coroner around here these days."

Matthew blinked at him, then quickly recovered and said, "Sure, come on in. I'll get him. I'm Matthew, by the way."

He called up the stairs for Cary, not wanting to miss the expression on his face when he saw the Sheriff - and that's what he looked like, every inch of him, like a lawman from one of those ridiculous westerns Cary liked so much.

Cary came jogging down the stairs, hesitating about half a step when he saw Raylan Givens in the foyer. He grinned at him and walked up, extending a hand.

"Hey," he said. "All this talk about you, I was wondering when I'd run into you."

Raylan shook his hand and said, "I figure we'd be working together eventually, so I wanted to say hi. I think... you went to Evarts, right? You look real familiar."

Cary nodded and replied in a casual voice that made Matthew want to laugh, "I did. I was a few years behind you though, I'm surprised you even remember."

Raylan shrugged and took off his hat. "Anyways, I just thought I'd stop in."

"You want a drink or something? We got half a bottle of scotch stashed away."

Raylan smiled and said, "That ain't the kind of offer I'm known to turn down often."

He'd stayed for the drink, asked polite questions about Cary's medical practice and what he'd done after graduating. Matthew knew he was dying to ask about Boyd, but kept quiet about it at first.

When Raylan finished his drink and set it down, he said, "Well, I should be going. If you need to get in touch with me for any reason, if I ain't at the station, I'm staying in a cabin in Banks holler, just off the holler road, maybe a mile from the Thomas farm, you know where that is?"

"Yeah," Cary said, in that fake casual tone he'd employed at first with Raylan, "Boyd Crowder's place, isn't it?"

Raylan's face went tense at first, and then it was like he remembered something that he'd forgotten for a minute. "That's right," he said, "I'm staying with Boyd."

Cary asked him then, if he and Boyd were together, and Raylan said they were, but he didn't seem too keen on discussing the matter. He also denied that they were ever together before, and seemed bemused by the fact that everyone seemed to think they had been.

When Raylan was gone, Matthew winked at Cary and said, "So I guess you were wrong. They weren't boyfriends at all back then." They'd both laughed pretty hard at that, and he added, "Isn't it just the strangest coincidence that everyone thought they were in love, but they totally weren't until just now?"

"Man," Cary said, still laughing, "that's some hard core denial. Those poor boys."

Over the next year or so, Raylan and Boyd grew visibly more comfortable around each other in public; it had been a little hard to watch them at first, when their relationship was supposedly not a matter of public knowledge. Raylan barely spoke, and Boyd still looked haunted from his ordeal.

Matthew had been at the swap meet one Sunday, half-listening as an elderly man talked his ear off about how he thinks Harlan's a better place now the federal government's fucked and can't bother with them no more. He and the old guy were both looking at Raylan because he was the inspiration for the rant. He's got his head thrown back laughing, and Boyd's face holds a delighted grin. "Case in point," the man was saying, "Take Givens there, he was a federal all that time, but even he knew there wa'nt no future to it. Now he's back home, doin' real good far as I can- "

The old man's words cut off and his mouth fell open as Boyd's arm snaked around Raylan's waist, and he leaned over, craning his neck up to kiss Raylan on the side of the face, just by his ear.

Matthew smiled at his conversational companion and said, "You know, I think you might be on to something. He looks like he's doing just great."

The man muttered something about big city ways, and being glad Arlo Givens is dead, then wandered off, shaking his head.

When the gas man murders happened, they hadn't yet become friends with Raylan and Boyd, but they were certainly friendly. That business had thrown Cary together with them more regularly, and he'd bonded with Raylan over movies - unsurprisingly, Raylan was a fan of westerns.

After Loretta came, and they'd all gone through a crisis together, Matthew finally felt as if they all really were friends. They had them over for dinner occasionally, and they were beginning to seem more like real people and less like novelty items.

The morning after Raylan and Boyd spent the night in their bed could have been extremely uncomfortable, especially since they'd been so trashed the night before, but somehow it turned out okay.

Raylan had been staggeringly hung over, grumpy, and didn't talk much, but Boyd seemed surprisingly unaffected. He'd woken up with Raylan still fast asleep and drooling on his chest. Cary had already gotten up, and Matthew was blinking at the ceiling. Boyd had looked over and grinned at him.

"He never could handle himself with weed. He'll drink anyone but me under the table, but if he gets high it's like he got brained with a goddamn baseball bat."

"Shut up, Boyd," Raylan grumbled, eyes still closed. "Drink you under the table too." Boyd rubbed his fingers in Raylan's hair and smiled.

Matthew laughed softly, wondering how weird things might be between all of them now. He hoped it wouldn't make problems between those two. He'd been too high and too turned on to think of it the night before, but this must have been a big deal for them.

Boyd shifted Raylan off of him and sat up, reaching down to pick up his jeans from the floor and pulling them on. He got up and pulled the sheet back up over Raylan, then walked out of the bedroom. Matthew got dressed and followed him.

Boyd had gone out to the front steps, and was stretching his back, squinting at the sunlight. Matthew came and stood beside him.

"If things are awkward for awhile, we'll understand," Matthew said. "I hope we're still friends, though."

Boyd shook his head and said, "What do you think that was, man? You think you two seduced us?" He laughed. "Don't worry about me and Raylan. All the shit we been through, this ain't nothing. This was just some fun, alright? It ain't like we didn't see it coming."

Matthew frowned at him. "You talked about it before?"

"Like you didn't?" Boyd asked.

Matthew shrugged. "Cary had a thing for you guys from way back in high school. He was, like, fascinated by your relationship."

Boyd sighed. "I know," he said. "I can understand why, I suppose. He would have been disappointed if he'd known what it was really like, though."

"I don't know, it has a certain tortured appeal," Matthew said.

"Spoken like someone who don't know what the fuck he's talking about. When did you come out?"

Matthew shrugged. "To my parents? High school. And to a few friends. Not everyone."

Boyd shook his head. "I cannot even begin to explain how impossible that would have been for me, or him. It wasn't even a thought that I ever had. I loved him, I surely did, but in my mind that didn't translate into something that I understood to be about myself. I thought it was entirely about him."

"But it wasn't," Matthew said, trailing the statement into a question at the end.

"You ought to know, man," Boyd smirked, then fell serious again. "No, it wasn't, and eventually I learned to live with that, but mostly I just ignored it."

Matthew couldn't exactly imagine that, but he nodded anyway. They went in for breakfast shortly after, then Raylan and Boyd headed home.

Cary walked over and put his hands on Matthew's hips. "You want to come take a nap with me? I'm still pretty fucking hung over."

Matthew nodded and kissed him. "Nap, fuck, talk? Or fuck, talk, nap? Or-"

"I don't give a shit about the order as long as nap comes first," Cary said.

"Okay."

They went back to bed and slept a couple hours, until Matthew nudged him into wakefulness by kissing the side of his face and tugging on his dick. Matthew's favorite Cary was the half-awake one with his floppy, dark blond hair in his face and his blue eyes unfocused without his glasses.

They made love at a lazy, languid pace. Matthew remembered how it always was before, if they shared each other with someone, back in their old life in Louisville. The first time had been hard for both of them afterwards, though while it was happening they were pretty happy about it. Cary wasn't his first boyfriend, but he was the first one he couldn't stand the thought of losing.

It had taken them awhile to try it again, and by that time they'd gotten a lot closer, had settled into their commitment, and it was better. They'd done it very infrequently, and there was always this sort of battle between feeling like it was really, really hot, and being slightly afraid of it.

Cary said that made it more exciting for him, like the possibility of fucking everything up was a turn on. It wasn't like that for Matthew, but he could sort of understand. Anyway, it made their private sex life better for a long time after each one.

When they'd moved to Harlan, Matthew had assumed that was all a thing of the past, and he'd been a bit unprepared for it this time. Raylan and Boyd were different from anyone they'd done this with in the past. It was the first time they'd been with a couple, too, and that had added something he hadn't expected. Watching them interact was interesting, sexy and kind of touching.

They stayed in bed after they'd both come - Matthew twice, the second time while Cary was fucking him, whispering to him that he was his, that he belonged to him, even though they both knew that wasn't how it was - and eventually talked about the previous night.

“He told me they talked about fooling around with us before they came over last night," Matthew said.

A delighted grin bloomed on Cary’s face. “Did he really? Well, that’s kind of amazing.”

“It is," Matthew said, "considering the master level repression they’d both been operating under for most of their lives. I wonder how they even managed to finally make that happen. They must have been really fucking drunk.”

Cary thought about it for awhile before saying, “Well, maybe. Boyd was traumatized, remember? Like a zombie. Raylan came back hardly any time after Ava died. His defenses must have been down. Raylan... who knows. That relationship is so complicated. They’re for real though, you know? Some serious love there.”

"Yeah..." Matthew said skeptically.

Cary frowned at him. "What?"

"Well, I mean," Matthew sighed, "yeah, they're in love. Obviously. But it's so intense, and they have so much baggage. I mean, how do you think it feels to know your lover shot you? Or to know that you shot him? And like, they were with the same woman, one right after the other? And I know there's other shit, things they don't talk about. And even without all that - twenty years. They were in love in high school, and it's like they just closed that whole side of themselves down, like it was just for each other. It's a lot to deal with."

Cary nods. "It is. But they're doing it somehow. And it's none of our business, even if we did see them naked."

Matthew grinned. "So how was that blow job, anyway?"

"Not as good as yours, honey." He leaned over and kissed him. "But good. Definitely better than expected."

Six months and a bit later, the power is now reliable again, and the government has set up a dedicated television channel to report progress throughout the country. The cities are being restored at a surprisingly rapid pace, though order is being restored at a slightly slower one.

People have adapted, and things have changed course. There is, of course, a movement to reject the return of the old ways, to resist the former reliance on the government and on technology. People had gotten a taste of something like real independence, and many had taken to it, especially in places like Harlan.

This is all rather revisionist, though, in Matthew's opinion. Self-reliance is all well and good, but the crisis had also allowed fringe groups to rise all over the place, and rogue local governments to thrive. Sometimes that worked, but often it had been incredibly destructive. The federal and state governments now have their hands full, trying to reassert their power.

Reports from Louisville have been encouraging, though, and Matthew has begun, once again, to feel restless. He wants to be a part of things, to see what people are doing in other places, in the real world, which is how he thinks of it. He has a degree in sociology, which he hadn't been doing much with before they'd moved to Harlan, but he thinks there could be a real use for it now.

“You’re bringing this up now, after all this time?” Cary had been replacing a washer in the bathroom sink that had rusted out, but he stops and stares at Matthew, who is leaning in the doorway.

“I couldn’t before, there was no point. I would have, though, I was getting ready to. I tried, Cary. I really did, and we’ve been here a long time. I’m lonely. I miss our friends, don’t you?”

“Sure I do, but... maybe now things are getting better, we can go up sometimes. Visit.”

Matthew shakes his head. “That’s not the same and you know it. I need-”

There’s a knock at the door, and Matthew breaks off with a frustrated sigh and goes into get it. Raylan is standing there, not dressed like the Sheriff, just in jeans and a t-shirt, sneakers instead of boots, and a baseball cap. Despite Matthew’s bad mood and the fight he’d just been having, he smiles at him. He looks ten years younger than usual, at least. His face is tense, though, and he looks like he has to work at the smile on his face.

“Hey, Raylan,” Matthew says. “What’s up, you want to come in?”

Raylan’s smile falters a little, and he says, “If it’s a good time. I need- I was hoping to run something by Cary.” His blinks and rubs a finger between his eyes. “And you, of course,” he adds, “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry. I guess, it’s usually him who’s all up in my business, so I thought of him first.”

Matthew laughs and says, “Understandable. Come on, you want a drink?”

“Yes,” Raylan says with a relieved sigh.

Cary comes out of the half-bath and raises his brows at Matthew in a question. "Raylan needs to talk about something," Matthew says. "Is there any of that beer left?"

Cary sighs, and looks like he's making an effort to put the argument aside for now. "No, we finished it last night. There's some rye in the cabinet."

"Am I interrupting something?" Raylan asks, his eyes narrowed.

"Just some household repairs," Cary says. "Nothing that can't wait."

When Raylan is seated at the kitchen table with a drink in front of him, Cary says, "You're welcome to come hang out anytime, Sheriff, but is there some particular reason you came by today?"

Raylan makes a face. "Don't call me that today, okay?"

"Okay," Cary says. "Sorry."

Raylan shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. It's not - it's just... shit. I got a problem." He takes a long pull from his glass, then says, "I have a decision to make that I never thought I'd have to. I got a call."

Phone service had been reinstated recently, though for the moment, only the government, law enforcement and medical services have it, plus probably the very wealthy and influential. It still sounds strange to hear Raylan say that.

"Art Mullen, you met him, he called me to ask if I would consider returning to the Marshal service."

Cary and Matthew stare at him for a moment, then Cary says, "And you're considering it?"

Raylan makes a face and twists up his shoulders. "I don't know if I am or not. I've been happy here, I can't even explain how good it's been for me, and how... this is home now. I'd always want to stay. But the job, it's something I also loved, once. It got bad, and it was no longer what it was, but maybe it can be again, I don't know, but what I'm doing now feels like... like I ain't doing anything. And I could live with Johnny being a shot caller, when it was expedient to let him be that, but it's harder to swallow now, when they're trying to do something again."

He's breathing a little heavy, like all of this has been weighing on him for a long time. Matthew hesitates, then says, "What does Boyd say about it?

Raylan's eyes slide to the side and he reaches for the bottle. He doesn't answer until he has a fresh double in front of him. "I haven't mentioned it," he says, and lets a full second or two past before adding, "Yet. That's why I'm here, I had to talk to somebody about it."

Cary frowns and glances over at Matthew, who is working at keeping his face as neutral as possible. "You'd have to move, right? Commuting wouldn't really work," Cary asks.

"I- yeah. I mean, I could stay here on weekends and go back, but..." His face sort of falls in on itself a little and he takes a drink. "I can't- I don't want to be in Lexington on my own."

"We've noticed," Matthew says. "Why is that?"

Matthew can see Raylan's hands shake, very slightly, as he reaches for his glass again. He finishes what's in it, then says, "I got... stuck there. When I first came back here, the first time after everything happened, the power outage, the riots, all that... I came here because of those guys, that- the gang that killed Ava. I came here because- because of what happened to them. That was why I went to see Boyd."

"Because he killed them," Cary says, and Matthew looks at him sharply. They've never discussed that with either of them. He's not even sure if Raylan and Boyd have talked about it directly.

But Raylan just says, "Yeah," and glances at the bottle. Matthew pours for him, because he obviously wants to get drunk, maybe needs to if he's going to talk about this. Raylan continues, "He told me that the minute I walked up to the cabin. He asked if I was gonna arrest him."

Cary and Matthew watch him, wide-eyed, as he takes a breath, then goes on with the story.

"I didn't, of course," he says, "I just took him into the house and made him eat something, and then I stayed. Like... like I was gonna do that all along, like that was the plan. He was so fucked up, and I guess I was too, and we- I can't explain it. I just knew I wanted to stay, and he wanted me to stay, so I did. But first, I had to go back, quit my job, get my things, and... I thought I still had to decide. I didn't realize I'd already decided, maybe from the time I saw him sitting out on the porch, for all I know."

"How long did you stay in Lexington?" Matthew asks, almost afraid of the answer.

"A month," Raylan says. "And in that time, some very bad shit went down. I killed some people that... for the job, but it wasn't right. It was so fucked up and wrong, and it really did a number on my head. I was in some kind of daze, I just kept going to work and to my apartment, every day thinking yeah, I gotta get my shit together and head back to Harlan, but then it was like the thought would leave my head and I just didn't do it. Boyd, he came and got me. Came to the office, told me I was needed here and it was time to go."

"Jesus," Matthew breathes. "But Raylan... I mean, you have to talk to him about this. Maybe he'd move with you. He loves you, I'm sure he wants you to be happy."

"I am happy," Raylan says. "And I fucking know he loves me, Christ, but he won't want to move. He hates the city. And I don't... he's gonna take it real bad if I even bring this shit up, I know he is."

Cary frowns and says, "I'm going to get some food. You want something?" He gets up and goes into the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

Matthew looks at Raylan for a moment, and says, "Why will he take it so bad if you're just talking?"

Raylan shakes his head, then rubs his face. He looks intently at Matthew and says, "You know, I've never really had friends. Except Boyd, he was my friend, we were real good friends, but after that, I just... I didn't really know how to make them. Winona and I had couple friends, but they weren't really my friends, I couldn't talk about things... real things. An' I had work friends, but they all thought I was half an asshole anyway, they barely put up with me. You guys..."

He pauses and looks up at Cary as he comes back to the table with cut up vegetables and bread. He waits for him to sit, then says, "You guys are good friends. Even though you're couple friends too, I suppose, but it's different, an' I'm so glad I got to know you. Thanks for..." He gestures vaguely. "Thanks for listening, I know this probably sounds awful to you."

Matthew doesn't know what to say. He hadn't even realized Raylan thought of them like that, as people he could turn to that way. Cary's face is full of some kind of emotion, lots of them it looks like, and he says, "We're glad too. We weren't sure we'd be able to make friends here." He looks hard at Matthew, then back at Raylan. "But we did. We feel really close to you and Boyd, too."

Raylan sort of smirks, though the alcohol has taken any sharpness out of the expression. "That's probably just 'cause we screwed around."

"No it isn't," Matthew says, and puts a hand on Raylan's forearm. "But Raylan, tell us why you think Boyd won't want to hear about this."

Raylan sighs and drinks some more. "He's gonna think it means I don't need him anymore. He's gonna think it's me pulling away, that I'm planning to go, now things are changing. I left him once, a long time ago, or that's what he thinks anyway. He thinks I ran away because of him, because I was too afraid of what... we might have wanted back then."

"Weren't you?" Cary asks.

"Yeah. Yes, but..." He shakes his head again, and for a second it looks like he might drop it into his arms. He's very, very drunk, Matthew realizes. He's never seen him this way. "See, I remembered something," Raylan goes on. "A year or so ago, we drove out to this outcropping we used to park on, to drink and talk. We went there a lot when we were young. And, this memory came back to me, like out of the blue, fully formed. One time we went out there after a party, right after we graduated. Boyd had gotten into it with this dude Ronnie Howell, and- "

"I remember that!" Cary says suddenly. Matthew looks at him, annoyed that he'd interrupted the story. "I was at that party. My sister let me tag along with her and her boyfriend. I saw you making out with some girl when I got there. I don't remember her name."

"Me neither," Raylan says, snorting a laugh. "But yeah, and then I saw Boyd get into it with Ronnie, so I went over to back him up.

"He was yelling and shoving him, and he was like twice his size," Cary says, "Boyd was kind of a crazy motherfucker, wasn't he?"

"You could say that," Raylan laughs, with a great deal of affection.

"So," Cary says, "I saw run over and get in the guy's face. The guy's friends were there too, and one of them started to go after you, and Boyd just cold cocked him right in the face. Then he said something, I don't know what, and then the guy he hit looked fucking furious, like he was going to kill him."

Raylan grins loosely. "He told him he was gonna knock his teeth out so he could give Ronnie better blow jobs." He laughs. "I wondered for a second if he had a death wish or something. But then I saw Bowman and Johnny walking up and I realized he must have seen them coming. Ronnie said he wasn't surprised Boyd would think of that, considering, which Johnny heard, and you know what he always thought of us anyway, so I suppose he got a bit defensive about it. Like he thought maybe it wasn't just shit talk, and he got really pissed off. The fight ended pretty quickly after that, they backed down."

"And then you and Boyd left together," Cary says. "You completely forgot about that girl who was undoubtedly ready to spread her legs for you after that brilliant alpha male display, if not before."

Raylan looks a little caught off guard, but eventually he nods. "That's true, I did forget her. I tried to hit on her another time and she was so pissed, wouldn't hardly speak to me. I had forgotten all about what happened that night before the fight."

"I always assumed you to went off to fool around somewhere, after," Cary says.

Raylan shakes his head. "We went and drank some more, out at that outcropping. I was so drunk. And I... did something really reckless."

The sound of the screen door squealing on its hinges makes them all start, and look up. Boyd is at the kitchen door, a dark look on his face.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Raylan said he had some shit to do, but he wasn't at the station when I stopped by. Wondered if he might be here."

"Come in and have a drink, Boyd," Cary says.

"Alright," Boyd says slowly. "Raylan, what's going on?" He sits, and Matthew finds him a glass.

"Nothing," Raylan says. "I'll tell you later. Didn't mean to get this drunk."

Boyd frowns. "I didn't realize you we're planning to get drunk at all," he says. "Why don't you finish that story you were telling just now."

"No," Raylan says, blinking a few times like he's trying to restore his senses. "That wasn't nothin', just some shit about a party we went to. That one where Ronnie Howell almost kicked your ass, remember?"

"Sounded like it was about after the party," Boyd replies. "You said you did something reckless, but I don't know what you were talking about."

Raylan just gives a little shrug and goes silent. Cary can feel the tension between them, obviously needing - if not wanting - to discuss this, but unwilling to do it in front of other people. They bicker all the time in public, it's their schtick, and one they clearly enjoy. But they don't air serious disagreements, or talk about their feelings, to anyone, normally.

As a couple, they present a solidly united front, despite - or maybe because of - their divided past. Maybe they're overcompensating for that, or maybe the act of coming together after that sort of rift made them stronger.

After a few tense minutes, Boyd says, "You know, I didn't give a shit about Ronnie. I picked the fight with him because I was in a bad mood."

"Why?" Matthew asks.

"I was supposed to meet Raylan at the party, we weren't gonna stay long. But I got there and he already had his fingers in some slut's pussy."

Raylan's eyes have regained some of their clarity, and his mouth is pressed tight. Cary can understand why he'd be pissed. This is private. It was something either of them might talk about, but they'd frame it as a joke. As a bluff, something to make people see them as they want to be seen. Not in this raw voice that still holds some of the pain he must have felt that night, and probably many other nights as well.

"Boyd, shut up. Not now."

"If you tell me what you remember, I'll stop," he says. "Don't you dare lie to me and say you don't."

Raylan sighs heavily, then says, "You don't wanna hear this, darlin'. I never- I didn't want to tell it to you."

"Consider me warned," Boyd replies.

Raylan shakes his head, but says, "I was so drunk. I- I put my arm around you. An' you pushed me away, but not like you were pissed. Gently, like you didn't really want to. So... I kissed you. And then you, you said..."

Raylan buries his face in his hands. He takes a breath like he's about to finish the thought, but Boyd makes a sound, a little broken-off moan.

"I said you'd made a mistake and you needed to get your hands off me." He looks at Raylan, wide-eyed. "I'm so sorry," he says.

"I don't care."

"No, Raylan-"

"Stop." Raylan reaches for his hand, and wouldn't have found it if Boyd didn't grab it. "You were right to say no, that would've fucked it all up."

Cary can tell he doesn't really believe that, and certainly Boyd doesn't. It's complete bullshit, but maybe Raylan has a point. The past already did whatever damage it was going to do, and fretting about it now is a waste of time.

Matthew apparently disagrees, because he's looking at them incredulously, and he says, "It would've fucked what all up? You mean the awesome lives the two of you went on to have? With your fantastically healthy relationships and self-acceptance?"

"Don' matter now," Raylan says. "I don't care," he says again. "Didn't want you to know, Boyd. I ain't mad. I know. I know."

"Raylan," Boyd says, glancing quickly at Cary and Matthew, then back at him, "Surely you didn't come here just to get drunk and spill this pathetic little tale. What's going on?"

A look of exhausted resignation crosses Raylan's face, and he says, "Art wants me to come and be a Marshal again. But Boyd, I ain't gonna do it. I ain't leaving again. I promised you."

Boyd looks sort of stunned, and guilty at the same time. "Raylan... why didn't you tell me about this first?"

"Didn't wanna scare you," Raylan says. "Didn't want you to think I's tryin' to get away. It ain't about that, you gotta know, it's just the job that tempted me, but I won't- "

"Jesus, Raylan. You gotta come home with me now. We need to talk in private. I think we aired enough of our bullshit for one day, don't you?"

Raylan gets a somewhat silly grin on his face and he says, "More'n enough, I'd say," and struggles to his feet.

Cary walks over and extends a hand to him. He says, "Okay to start calling you Sheriff again?"

Raylan takes the proffered hand, but doesn't really shake it. He just holds it for a second, then winks and says, "Only in bed." Cary gives a disbelieving guffaw and, improbably, blushes.

Matthew ignores the hand Raylan holds out, and gives him a brief, hard hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I don't want you to go anywhere, Raylan," he says. "You'll have to find some other way to make your job more interesting. Maybe I can dig up another serial killer for you."

Raylan smiles at him, pats him on the shoulder, and is then pulled out of the house by a tolerant but clearly exasperated Boyd. As they head down the walk, Matthew watches Boyd put his arm across Raylan's back and hears him say, "Maybe one day you'll fuckin' trust me, Raylan, for Christ's sake."

Matthew turns to Cary and says, "I know what you're going to say, and you don't need to. I was wrong to say we don't have friends here, alright? I wasn't thinking. But I still feel isolated. I still miss the friends we had before."

"What if we go up once a month? If I promise."

"That's a lot of gas, I don't- "

"I'll make it happen. Can we just try? Please. Another year, and if it's still not working, we go back."

Matthew looks at him for awhile, then finally asks, "Why do you like it here so much?"

Cary shrugs. "Just feels like home. Now more than it used to, after everything that's happened here over the last few years. You used to say you didn't feel like you were part of things, and I understood that, but it's not like that anymore, is it?"

Matthew shook his head. "No, I guess it isn't. I'll give you this year, honey. I'd rather be with you in Harlan than without you somewhere else, but I need more than that, too. I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"You won't have to," Cary says, kissing him. "And speaking of promises, can you believe that whole business with those two?"

"They might be a tad on the codependant side," Mattew says with a small grin. "Though to be fair, they've been through some rough shit."

"Sure," Cary agrees. "I wonder if Raylan was really going to keep that memory to himself forever. God, that was sad."

"The saddest. Why do I love that so much? Am I a bad person?"

"Terrible," Cary laughs. "Hey, let me finish up with that sink, and then we should go into town. Get some ice cream."

"Oh yeah," Matthew says. "I keep forgetting that's a thing again."

It takes about an hour to get the project taken care of, and Cary thinks maybe next time he has to do handyman shit, he'll see what Boyd might take in trade for the job.

The ice cream shop is new, and still a very small operation, run by a partnership between a dairy farm and a young couple from town. They only carry three favors plus a special one that changed each week, and it's a very popular venture.

Cary and Matthew don't live too far from town, so they walk the mile or so to the shop. As they come up the sidewalk, Cary nudges Matthew in the side.

"Look, they're here," he says, pointing. Raylan and Boyd are sitting at a table outside with cones, and Raylan is grinning, pointing at Boyd, who's laughing and shaking his head.

"Seems like they worked it out," Matthew says.

"They probably went home and fucked, and called it worked out," Cary replies, smirking.

Matthew just shrugs, because maybe so, but maybe that's enough for them. They look genuinely happy.

The two men look up, and Boyd raises his cone in a greeting. "Great minds think alike," he says, then laughs. "That saying is bullshit, ain't it?"

Raylan laughs and says, "You're so weird sometimes, Boyd." He still seems kind of drunk.

"What kind do you want?" Cary asks. "I'll get it."

"Strawberry," Matthew says. "Thanks, honey." He sits at the table next to Raylan and asks, "Feeling better?"

Raylan gets a smile on his face that's close to a leer before he reigns it in, then says, "Yeah, real good." Cary was right, apparently. "I'm gonna let Johnny know I ain't his pet lawman no more, and if he has a problem with that I suppose he can put someone else up at the next election. I was only in as an emergency placement anyhow."

Matthew smiles. "You'll win."

"Shit, I know that," Raylan says. "But if I don't, I'll figure something out anyhow. Maybe I'll come work here and scoop ice cream. They can pay me in trade and I'll get fat and jolly. Will you still love me, Boyd?"

Boyd rolls his eyes and says, "Ain't no way you're ever gonna be jolly, that I know for certain."

Cary comes put with the ice cream and sits down. He hands Matthew his strawberry and licks at his own, which looks like it might be butter pecan.

"Mmm, that looks good," Matthew says. "Wanna trade?"

"No," Cary says. "You know I don't like fruit in ice cream."

"Hey," Raylan says suddenly, like he just remembered something important. "You guys are always asking us about stuff, and I just spilled my guts to you tonight, but you hardly tell us anything. I don't even know how you met each other."

They glance at each other, and Cary says, "I'll tell it." He clears his throat and quirks his eyebrows, like he's preparing for something. "This new bar opened, real trendy and popular from the beginning. Not a gay bar per se, but in the main gay neighborhood in Louisville. Everyone went there, so naturally I avoided it for a long time."

"Such a free spirit you were," Matthew says, tilting his head at him and smiling in a familiarly mocking way.

"In fact, I was. I was never one to chase fashion. But then, a guy I knew told me that he'd heard an actor was working there, researching a part, and had I ever seen the Evil Dead." He smiles. "Of course I'd seen the Evil Dead, I told him, who the hell did he think he was talking to. He said, well, I heard the main guy from those movies was working a shift at that place."

Boyd frowns and gives a little laugh. "Ain't you like twenty years younger than him?"

"Almost," Matthew laughs. "But sometimes people would believe it because they wanted to, and sometimes just because they were so drunk, they weren't thinking straight. Word got around. Man, I got Bruce Campbell so much ass, he oughta send me thank you notes. He has an excellent reputation among Louisville's gay community."

"I think you mean, Bruce Campbell got you so much ass, you oughta be sending him thank you notes," Cary laughs. "And in a way, he was responsible for you meeting the love of your life, i.e. me."

Matthew grins into his ice cream and waits for him to continue.

"So I always had a crush on Ash, you know, 'cause he was such a fucking bad ass, and so handsome, so I had to see this guy. And I went in one night, early, so I could get a seat at the bar. He was already working this dude, not really telling him anything, just sort of smiling and nodding."

"He was real cute, too," Matthew says.

"I suppose," Cary replies, "but not the sharpest tack in the box. So I order my drink and I say, hey, you gotta tell me what Sam Raimi is like, man. He gives me this look like he knows I'm fucking with him, and he leans on the bar, gets up real close and says, 'If you plan to fuck this up for me, you better be prepared to step up.'' So..."

Matthew beams and finishes for him. "So he said to the guy, 'You're gonna have to find your own movie star, 'cause this one's mine.' And I was, after that. Pretty much."

Raylan sits back in his seat and grins. "That is smooth, Doc," he says. "A bold move."

"Well, I know it's no tragic, epic origin like the two of you had, but I think it's a decent story."

"Epic and tragic is overrated, in my considered opinion," Boyd laughs. "It's a real nice story."

They finish their ice cream in companionable silence. Raylan and Boyd are still sitting there, apparently content to stay and gaze at each other and crack jokes all evening. Matthew wonders just how different they actually are from their younger days, if maybe this was a favored pastime back then, too.

Just as he and Cary get up to leave, Loretta and Chris show up, bickering mildly like they've been together for thirty years. They say hi and good bye, and as they walk away, he hears Loretta's slightly judgemental drawl saying, "Raylan Givens, are you drunk already?" Then Boyd busts out laughing, loud, and says, "Shit, Raylan, she sounds just like Helen!"

Matthew puts his arm around Cary's waist and leans into him a little. He's already looking forward to their first visit to Louisville in years, but he thinks he might look forward to coming back, just the same. Just when he'd started thinking he'd never be at home here, he realized he already was.