Chapter Text
After so many nights of sleeping rough out in the cold, the barn is heavenly.
The hay prickles the skin of Joe’s arms and neck, but it’s blissfully dry and makes a perfect barrier against the hard ground. He may have fallen asleep a little too fast.
He startles awake hours later with the sun peeking through the roof boards, slowly and still dazed from half a dream, to meet the barrel of a shotgun pointed directly at his face.
On the other end of the gun, there’s the most beautiful creature Joe has ever laid his eyes on.
The man is standing merely a meter away from him and he looks tall, with an impressive set of shoulders. Joe wonders if the man is an alpha, and if he is, he must have formidable self-control. On the contrary, his pheromones should have been filling up the whole barn by now.
“I mean no harm,” Joe mumbles, feeling his mouth dry and tacky from sleep, trying to raise his arms to show his empty hands. “I just needed a place to sleep... it’s cold outside.”
The man’s jaw gives a light twitch, but his finger stays firm on the trigger.
“You are trespassing,” he accuses.
“I’m awfully sorry, as I said, I mean no harm–” Joe repeats and this time the man takes a step closer, so Joe finally gets to have a good look on his face.
The man has a large nose and big, unsettling eyes. His face looks as if carved out of stone, but there’s something soft about him. Joe cannot help wondering what he looked like when he smiled.
“Stand up slowly,” the man all but hisses. “Put your hands where I can see them.”
Joe does as he’s told, careful to not slip on the hay. He’s very grateful his past self had the foresight to sleep with his boots on, so at least he won’t have to run away barefoot.
Once Joe manages to stand up, he realises he’s as tall as the other man, maybe even a little taller. If he’s quick enough, he might even be able to overpower him.
Joe doesn’t want to do that, of course. He’s not stupid. He has no idea what sort of dangers are waiting for him outside, but if the man decides to shoot him, Joe wouldn’t have a choice.
“Look,” he licks his lips, suddenly desperate for a sip of water. He always wakes up thirsty. He probably should drink less booze, but alcohol is usually cheaper than actual food and it helps him forget. “Just let me grab my stuff–”
He gestures to the bundle next to the pile of hay. There ain’t much, just his revolver (empty), his waterskin (empty) and a poncho (which has more holes than fabric) and a hat (surprisingly well-kept) but it’s all he’s got. The man barely glances at it before staring back at Joe, who keeps talking.
“– I will be out of your hair, promise.”
The man opens his mouth but doesn’t get a chance to say anything before there’s a loud shriek right behind him.
Joe blinks and almost misses the small figure dashing through the door from the other end of the barn. “NICO, MARIA WON'T LET ME USE THE–”
The boy shouldn’t be older than seven and he stops short as he realises what he has walked into. He quickly takes cover behind the man, grabbing at his shirt as he looks at Joe. The three of them all stand in silence for a moment, Joe’s desperate heartbeat becoming too loud for his own ears.
“Who is he?” the boy eventually speaks out, his voice small but full of unchecked curiosity. “He looks funny.”
Joe notices the man’s jaw doing the twitchy motion again and he wonders if he’s trying not to smile. That gives Joe a little hope he might not get shot after all. Side by side, he also notices the man and the boy look similar and he wonders if they are father and son. The man doesn’t look old enough to have sired a boy that age, though.
“What do you mean?” the man asks the boy and it takes Joe a second to remember they are talking about him.
“His head,” the boy says pointing and Joe moves one of his hands to his hair without thinking.
The man makes a struggling sound and takes aim, but Joe quickly manages to show him the bits of hay that got stuck to his curls while he slept. It must be quite a sight.
“Ohhhh,” the boy sounds utterly disappointed and Joe barely resists the urge to not laugh at his sad little face.
“That’s rude, Antonio,” the man says, and now Joe thinks he can hear laughter in his voice. He quite likes the sound of it. “You should not make fun of other people’s appearances.”
The boy, Antonio, frowns deeply before gesturing with both hands. “But Nico, you’re pointing your gun at him!”
Joe watches the man – Nico? – turns bright pink and though his hand doesn’t move an inch away from the shotgun’s trigger, Joe can’t help but blurt out: “Your boy got a point.”
Antonio beams at Joe’s words and the look of betrayal on Nico’s face makes it even harder for Joe not to laugh, but he resists it bravely. “Sorry,” he tries again instead. “As I said, I mean no harm to you and your son, lemme just get my–”
“He’s not papà, he’s my brother!” Antonio volunteers eagerly and Joe tries not to think about how thrilled that particular piece of information makes him feel. It’s not like he’s aiming for anything more than getting out of this barn with his head over his shoulders, after all. Still, he can’t help the warm feeling that sparkles inside his chest.
Antonio, oblivious to Joe’s musings, goes on. “He thinks you're old, Nico.”
The man’s face becomes suddenly red as Antonio’s grin widens and Joe knows he has walked into some sort of brother’s squabble. He wants no part of it.
“I didn’t mean it like that, you–” Nico narrows his eyes in his direction and Joe feels his stomach drop, words failing him. “Sorry, you look very–”
And whatever Joe has planned to say next, he doesn’t get a chance to finish it, for his stomach chooses that exact moment to remind him he hasn’t had anything substantial to eat for a couple of days now. The noise echoes loudly in the silence of the barn and Joe’s face burns with shame.
Antonio looks confused, but not his brother. Nico blinks and stares at Joe as if he’s seeing him for the very first time. Then, to Joe’s surprise, the man lowers his shotgun.
“You are hungry,” Nico says. It’s not a question.
Joe feels his shoulders slack and he shrugs the best way he can with both his hands still up. He keeps his eyes on the man’s shotgun, for he doesn’t want to see pity on his beautiful face, so Joe notices it right away when Nico seems to hesitate just for a moment before shifting his gun back in place, taking aim once more.
“Hands behind your head and turn around,” he orders firmly and Joe sighs, the fight suddenly bleeding out of him. He knows he will not try to tackle the man with a kid around, so he just obeys, hoping his hands aren’t shaking too badly as he positions them as instructed. He wants to ask if the man plans to put him out of his misery, but his throat feels even drier than it did before. “Now, ten steps ahead.”
Joe frowns. There’s nothing but the barn wall ahead of him, but he does as he’s told. The man obviously isn’t giving him a chance to run for his life. Maybe he just doesn’t want to risk blowing out Joe’s brains all over himself and his brother. The idea is both horrendous and ridiculous and Joe has to bite the inside of his cheek to not start laughing in despair.
“Toni, over there,” the man says in a small voice and Joe overhears the rustle of fabric and then the dry sound of someone walking on hay. “Yes, bring it to me.”
Joe figures the man would send his brother away if he was planning to shoot him, but since the boy is still there, he allows his curiosity to run free. He pays attention to the sounds around him, trying to tap into his baser instincts, but besides the continuous rustling of fabric, he cannot distinguish the other ones. In the barn with all the animals’ smells, he can barely get a scent of the two brothers.
“Oh, it’s a gun!” Antonio all but yelps, and he sounds plenty excited instead of afraid, so Joe turns around before he has a chance to think his actions through.
He finds Nico with his shotgun under one of his arms, so his hands are free to inspect Joe’s revolver. The man has just put the cylinder back in place when he looks up, staring at him.
“Empty,” he declares and Joe understands that Antonio must have picked the bundle with his things for his brother to inspect. The man holds Joe’s gaze as he pockets the revolver, as if daring Joe to say anything. “Put them back, Toni.”
This time, Joe watches as the boy returns the bundle to the pile of hay. He seems to hesitate before letting Joe’s hat go, but after a moment he places it carefully over the rest of his things.
“You can pick up your things now,” Nico says when his brother returns to his side, shotgun back in his hands, though the barrel is still lowered, pointing to the ground.
Joe has no doubts the man would not hesitate to aim at him once again if he makes any sudden movements, so he doesn’t. He keeps his hands up as he carefully walks back to the pile of hay that was his bed for the first good night of sleep he had in ages.
He knows he will miss it.
“Thank you,” he manages the words this time as he hurriedly puts on his ragged poncho and pockets his empty waterskin. He doesn’t put on his hat, instead holds to it, just to have something to do with his hands. He had been planning to sell his revolver in the next town to pay for boarding and food and maybe try to find a job, so he does lament its loss now, but it’s better than losing his life. “I will be on my way, then.”
He glances to the door, hoping the man will give him permission to leave when Nico lets out a heavy sigh and whispers something to the boy. Antonio smiles and nods eagerly before he bolts, running towards the door and out of the barn in a matter of seconds. The man beams for Joe to come closer.
“You are hungry,” he repeats when Joe is near enough. Up close, his eyes look kind. “Breakfast should be ready in a minute.”
Joe blinks once, twice, not daring to believe those words. His stomach groans loudly again and he holds the hat tighter in his hands, lowering his head to stare at his boots. They are old and in dire need of repair, but they have taken him this far. “I don’t want to impose, I have abused your hospitality long enough–”
The man chuckles and for the first time, his face softens. “You invited yourself to my family’s barn, we didn’t invite you,” he says, grinning exactly like his little brother did. “You cannot abuse what wasn’t freely given.”
The silence that follows hangs heavily between them. Up close, Joe can smell the man’s scent and now he’s sure Nico isn’t an alpha. A beta, then, just looking after his family after an unknown alpha broke into their property. It’s no wonder he acted the way he did.
“I’m inviting you to have breakfast with me and my family,” he says and Joe doesn’t know if it’s the way Nico says it, clearly and without any flourishing, but his invitation doesn’t feel deceiving and Joe’s hungry mind truly appreciates it. “You are free to leave after it. I will escort you out of the grounds and give your revolver back, with some food packed for the journey.”
Joe nods after a heartbeat, unable to think of anything else to say. “I thank you.”
Nico stares at him for a moment too long and up close, Joe notices how the man’s nostrils are flared up. He feels the back of his neck burn, realising he hasn’t had a proper bath in a while, so he’s about to apologise for his unkempt appearance when Nico lowers his head, showing the side of his bare neck for half a second before he starts walking towards the door. He moves swiftly as if he’s in a sudden hurry for fresh air.
Joe feels himself stuck in place, afraid he might tear his hat in his hands when Nico stops at the door, left ajar by his brother, and opens it completely, allowing the sunlight in. He looks over his shoulder and frowns at Joe.
“Aren’t you coming?”
The man sounds apprehensive, nervous even, and maybe it was the way the sun peaks through the door to shine over the side of Nico’s face, lighting up his tentative smile and kind eyes, but Joe quickly finds himself nodding. He starts moving towards him.
Joe doesn’t know why, but he feels he would follow that man anywhere.