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rareslashTitle: "Solace in a Can of Beans"
Author/pseudonym: FatJoey
Email address: fatjsteel@ureach.com
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fatjoey, and http://www.livejournal.com/users/fatjoeyfic
Fandom: 'Paint Your Wagon'
Pairing: Ben/Pardner
Date: October 4, 2005
Disclaimer: Okay, this is just my own little fantasy and not meant to offend or interfere with any copyrights or anything. (Well, if it offends, tough shit.)
Beta: Mistress Marilyn, who for some reason thinks she owes me.
Dedication: To the same lady, who let me use her video of the movie and her computer to write and post the story.
Warnings: Pretty mild slash ficlet.
Author Notes: Gotta pay my 'dues' at the SlashtheWildWest list at Yahoo, and this is a fun way to do it. The story is set before the events in the movie where Elizabeth is introduced. If you've never seen 'Paint Your Wagon,' for God's sake go rent it! It's a rousing good time.
The two men both stared at the fire, simultaneously suppressing shudders as the heavy rain beat down on their tent. In the distance they could hear the sound of what Mad Jack referred to as "that bloody, blood wind" howling across the mountain.
They were about as different as they could be, one a typical, burnt-out gold miner, unkempt and unshaven, the other a fresh-faced, cleaner, younger man who could have been a rancher or farmer.
"You about over your spell?" the man called only 'Pardner' asked his companion.
Ben Rumson, known for his occasional bouts of melancholy, had sobered up and ceased to stare endlessly at the flickering fire Pardner had built at the soggy opening to the tent. Many hours earlier Pardner had rescued him from a muddy street in the mining camp, pulling him out of the mire and helping him to the back of a mule. Ben was coming around, starting to rub his hands against the chill.
"You want some beans?" Pardner asked. "I opened a can earlier and I can cook 'em up pretty quick."
Ben shook his head. "No thank you. I've had enough beans to last a lifetime."
"Okay, Ben. How 'bout a hunk of cornbread?"
Nodding, Ben took the yellow square Pardner offered, munching off a bite lustily and chewing loudly, washing it down with the blackest coffee he had ever tasted. He grimaced and choked a little, then shoved more cornbread in his mouth, ignoring the crumbs caught in the brush of his gray mustache and white beard.
"Pardner, that's damn good cornbread. But this coffee tastes like you shit in it."
"Not that I know of," Pardner said with a slow smile. "Not today."
"You sure?"
Ben had helped save Pardner's life some time earlier after a wagon accident that claimed the life of the Michigan native's brother. The two partners had fallen into a regular pattern, working their claim most days and making their way into the camp in the evenings so Ben could play cards or have a drink. Pardner indulged in neither of these vices and had been designated Ben's keeper when one was required to bail him out of any uncomfortable situations or positions, such as on the losing end of a poker hand or lying face down in the mud.
In the distance the two could hear the deep, resonant voice of professional gambler Rotten Luck Willie, singing against the storm. Ben shivered again.
"Let's climb in, Pardner. I've had my fill."
Pardner moved the coffee pot away from the fire, then set about preparing the bed role they shared. He threw another large piece of wood on the sputtering flames.
Ben stood outside the tent and made water. Then he pulled off his boots, removed his jacket, shirt and trousers and climbed into the bed roll clad only in his long underwear. In a few minutes Pardner blew out the lamp, closed the tent flaps and joined him.
Pardner had promised to be Ben's solace when required, and he had paid the debt he owed Ben in full in the past weeks, being much more than Ben's 'companion in his moments of despair.' It hadn't taken long for Ben to discover the one vice in which Pardner was willing to indulge.
They squeezed together, their hands performing the motions that had become practiced and familiar but no less effective. Their world was one without women, cut off by the wilderness from the major advantages of civilization, saloon girls or even schoolmarms. It had been ages since either had gotten even a glimpse of a skirt, and so they made do as best they could.
Ben's breath was loud in the dark tent. His grunts and sighs punctuated his pleasure as Pardner worked on him, pulling and squeezing. Pardner, more reticent by nature, buried his face in Ben's shoulder when he shuddered and finished.
"Y'know, Ben," Pardner said in a quiet voice when they had both relaxed, "there might be more things we could do."
"I wouldn't ask any more of you, Pardner. That wouldn't be neighborly."
Pardner sighed. "I'm sayin' you wouldn't have to, Ben. I'd offer it up."
"I like you, Pardner."
"I like you, Ben."
They had said it over and over, and it was more true than ever. As they huddled together, contemplating what was to come, the howling wind seemed to subside.
"Go ahead and make those beans for breakfast, Pardner. You fix 'em better than anyone I know."
"Glad to," Pardner answered. "Whatever gives you solace."
"You mean that, don't you?" Ben whispered. "Whatever I want."
Ben could feel rather than see Pardner's nod. "I do, Ben. I've never liked a man as much as I like you."
"And don't you forget it," Ben said. "Now, Pardner, what exactly did you have in mind?"
The End
Author/pseudonym: FatJoey
Email address: fatjsteel@ureach.com
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fatjoey, and http://www.livejournal.com/users/fatjoeyfic
Fandom: 'Paint Your Wagon'
Pairing: Ben/Pardner
Date: October 4, 2005
Disclaimer: Okay, this is just my own little fantasy and not meant to offend or interfere with any copyrights or anything. (Well, if it offends, tough shit.)
Beta: Mistress Marilyn, who for some reason thinks she owes me.
Dedication: To the same lady, who let me use her video of the movie and her computer to write and post the story.
Warnings: Pretty mild slash ficlet.
Author Notes: Gotta pay my 'dues' at the SlashtheWildWest list at Yahoo, and this is a fun way to do it. The story is set before the events in the movie where Elizabeth is introduced. If you've never seen 'Paint Your Wagon,' for God's sake go rent it! It's a rousing good time.
The two men both stared at the fire, simultaneously suppressing shudders as the heavy rain beat down on their tent. In the distance they could hear the sound of what Mad Jack referred to as "that bloody, blood wind" howling across the mountain.
They were about as different as they could be, one a typical, burnt-out gold miner, unkempt and unshaven, the other a fresh-faced, cleaner, younger man who could have been a rancher or farmer.
"You about over your spell?" the man called only 'Pardner' asked his companion.
Ben Rumson, known for his occasional bouts of melancholy, had sobered up and ceased to stare endlessly at the flickering fire Pardner had built at the soggy opening to the tent. Many hours earlier Pardner had rescued him from a muddy street in the mining camp, pulling him out of the mire and helping him to the back of a mule. Ben was coming around, starting to rub his hands against the chill.
"You want some beans?" Pardner asked. "I opened a can earlier and I can cook 'em up pretty quick."
Ben shook his head. "No thank you. I've had enough beans to last a lifetime."
"Okay, Ben. How 'bout a hunk of cornbread?"
Nodding, Ben took the yellow square Pardner offered, munching off a bite lustily and chewing loudly, washing it down with the blackest coffee he had ever tasted. He grimaced and choked a little, then shoved more cornbread in his mouth, ignoring the crumbs caught in the brush of his gray mustache and white beard.
"Pardner, that's damn good cornbread. But this coffee tastes like you shit in it."
"Not that I know of," Pardner said with a slow smile. "Not today."
"You sure?"
Ben had helped save Pardner's life some time earlier after a wagon accident that claimed the life of the Michigan native's brother. The two partners had fallen into a regular pattern, working their claim most days and making their way into the camp in the evenings so Ben could play cards or have a drink. Pardner indulged in neither of these vices and had been designated Ben's keeper when one was required to bail him out of any uncomfortable situations or positions, such as on the losing end of a poker hand or lying face down in the mud.
In the distance the two could hear the deep, resonant voice of professional gambler Rotten Luck Willie, singing against the storm. Ben shivered again.
"Let's climb in, Pardner. I've had my fill."
Pardner moved the coffee pot away from the fire, then set about preparing the bed role they shared. He threw another large piece of wood on the sputtering flames.
Ben stood outside the tent and made water. Then he pulled off his boots, removed his jacket, shirt and trousers and climbed into the bed roll clad only in his long underwear. In a few minutes Pardner blew out the lamp, closed the tent flaps and joined him.
Pardner had promised to be Ben's solace when required, and he had paid the debt he owed Ben in full in the past weeks, being much more than Ben's 'companion in his moments of despair.' It hadn't taken long for Ben to discover the one vice in which Pardner was willing to indulge.
They squeezed together, their hands performing the motions that had become practiced and familiar but no less effective. Their world was one without women, cut off by the wilderness from the major advantages of civilization, saloon girls or even schoolmarms. It had been ages since either had gotten even a glimpse of a skirt, and so they made do as best they could.
Ben's breath was loud in the dark tent. His grunts and sighs punctuated his pleasure as Pardner worked on him, pulling and squeezing. Pardner, more reticent by nature, buried his face in Ben's shoulder when he shuddered and finished.
"Y'know, Ben," Pardner said in a quiet voice when they had both relaxed, "there might be more things we could do."
"I wouldn't ask any more of you, Pardner. That wouldn't be neighborly."
Pardner sighed. "I'm sayin' you wouldn't have to, Ben. I'd offer it up."
"I like you, Pardner."
"I like you, Ben."
They had said it over and over, and it was more true than ever. As they huddled together, contemplating what was to come, the howling wind seemed to subside.
"Go ahead and make those beans for breakfast, Pardner. You fix 'em better than anyone I know."
"Glad to," Pardner answered. "Whatever gives you solace."
"You mean that, don't you?" Ben whispered. "Whatever I want."
Ben could feel rather than see Pardner's nod. "I do, Ben. I've never liked a man as much as I like you."
"And don't you forget it," Ben said. "Now, Pardner, what exactly did you have in mind?"
The End
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Ohhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Seriously, I'm in LOVE with this fanfic!!! I wish you'd let ME beta you! (If you ever do a Pardner/Ben fanfic again I hope you'll keep me in mind.)
I can't believe how perfectly you captured these two! It's just downright sinful. Well, not like being asked to cheat on your partner or steal gold! LMAO. (Yeah, I crack myself up!)
I had to read this out loud to Jimbo so we both could enjoy it. Wow. Man!
One of our all-time favorite movies/musicals, by the way!
Thank you a million times for writing it. And I wouldn't mind a sequel!
Love,
Bri (who is now humming "Hand Me Down that Can of Beans"...)
Re: Ohhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Date: 2005-10-08 07:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-05 07:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-08 07:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-05 08:01 am (UTC)(No, she wouldn't really be proud, but, yes, she really loved this movie.)
Joey, you're living up to your claim of being able to slash anyone.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-08 07:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 08:20 am (UTC)*grins fiendishly* And I know what I'm making the Sunday showtime this week. *still singing "... and they call the wind Mariah..."* Heh heh. I know Caz hasn't seen this movie so I'll drag him over to read this little tale first to whet his interest. Thank you for a darn good read in their own voices. It sent me right back to the first time I watched this movie.
PeeK
no subject
Date: 2005-10-08 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 07:17 am (UTC)The voices are perfect. I could hear both men speaking those words.
Excellent job.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-08 07:42 am (UTC)