Inspiration is for amateurs;

Because he meant it in the softest of ways. The one that said he missed Elio. The one that had him laying there with an ache he couldn't shake. The one that caused him to understand he was already too damn attached and the artist wasn't simply going to be something Jesse could just get out of his system.

Jesse wasn't sure what he was going to do about any of that, either. But for now, he concealed it all under dubious, double entendre so it wasn't as obvious how down bad for the man he'd become.

A flurry of nerves started up, both hands gripping over the brim of his hat as they stood there together. Studying each other like they were each a sight for the sorriest eyes. Jesse meant to do this later tonight, maybe when they were done with the project and filling their guts on some kind of grub, or even some post coital bliss crap where Elio could be too tired enough to say 'no'. But, the need to know now and get it out there, welled up and caught in his throat.

The nerves came in because what if Elio did say no? They hadn't really done things the normal, natural way, had they? It was like a roller coaster from the start. One look from the coarse artist had Jesse snagged on a hook and now he just kept following that string. Their relationship began hot and heavy, a physical mess of lust and desire and need. It still felt that way now. And somewhere along the way, Elio had up and decided they were together, labeling it as boyfriends, which Jesse hadn't put up much fuss about, either.

But outside their obvious works of trade, what did they know? It bothered Jesse, that he hadn't known what family the guy had or something as simple as his favorite color. Or flower? Elio didn't know his either, he just kept bringing in flowers and gifts, winning plushies, doing acts of favor whether the junkman had asked for it or not. He hadn't asked for anything. Sometimes, it even made him feel inadequate, like he wasn't doing enough or thinking outside the box. They didn't spend their time talking much. Neither of them were big talkers, that's why.

Shouldn't they? Or was it okay if they were just this couple that hooked together because they couldn't keep their hands off? Didn't matter if they knew any of the rest of it?

Nah, it mattered. Jesse wanted more. He wanted all of Elio, that's what this feeling was. That's why he was scared shitless, just to ask, and discover maybe Elio wasn't wanting more than what this already was.

"Hey.. ah.." Jesse's tongue came out, to wet over his bottom lip, eyes downcast briefly, the nerves somehow weeding their way into the tone, that's why his voice had gotten softer, more uncertain, because he'd never done this before in his life, "y'know I got this uh, voucher thing.." He traded the hat to one hand so the other could rub at the back of his head; awkwardly, feeling put on the spot and it was his own damn doing. "Back from the auction?" Jesse dropped his gaze again, hand down going into his jeans pocket to dig the voucher out. It was already creased and worn through in areas, like he kept taking it out multiple times a day just to run a finger over the options, or trace Elio's name. "N' look, we don't gotta, right? But I dunno, thought maybe it'd be kinda a waste to just, not use it, huh? You n' me, I mean.." Jesse held it up, the paper so thin and delicate by now that it slumped over his fingers sadly as he waved it, "I ain't much for champagne n' breakfast shit.. but now horses.. Those ain't so bad.." They meant a lot to him, actually, riding used to be a major way for him to blow off steam. If Holden and he hadn't gotten estranged over what Jesse'd done with Autumn, they might even be on a whole other path with a dude ranch they were running together. "N' I dunno, thought maybe you'd ah, y'know, wanna come do the whole ride n' picnic thing.."

Elio kicked himself for not inviting Jesse to New York with him. He should have been his date to the opening. He should've shown him off to everyone he knew. This man was his boyfriend, the first and only person to turn Elio Russo’s head. Jesse had gone quiet. The way he touched his hat made Elio hold his breath. Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Jesse broke the silent spell and spoke first. His cowboy was nervous. Elio didn't know the man could get nervous. As he talked in circles about the auction and champagne and horses, it finally clicked that Jesse was asking him on a date. A real date. One with plans and intentionality. There'd been nothing wrong with the way these two orbited around one another, becoming furniture in each other's home and spending every spare moment tangled together. But they could be more. And Elio wanted more.

“'Course I'll go with ya,” he took a step closer and took Jesse's hands in his. For a second, he could've sworn the man was trembling. “I’ll be honest though, I've never ridden a horse before. I'm assuming it's nothin’ like a bike?” Elio grinned. The idea of riding an animal that weighed as much as a small car terrified him slightly but he'd try anything once as long as it was with Jesse. Wink wink.

Elio not being there had been steadfastly blocked out. Ignored. Any time someone mentioned the artist, Jesse brushed it off with careless, unaffected comments that made the salvage operator sound borderline disinterested in the very idea he should be, actively, in a relationship with someone. Because the second that man's passion and life's work had taken him off to New York and other places, Jesse braced for the worst.

Elio was gone. He wasn't coming back. Jesse wasn't worth staying for. That metaphorical shoe had finally dropped.

As did the shit hit the fan in all other aspects of his life. Everything piled on at once. Simple quick texts and occasionally brief phone calls weren't enough to convince Jesse that the artist would see his way back here and remember where the junkyard was. Remember he was there, waiting.

And then he'd been surprised at the carnival.. Now, Elio had him reeled right back in, all over again. That same, intensity burning as hot as ever just to have the other man standing in so close. Jesse found himself barely able to keep track of his thoughts, the way it happened when they first got involved in this mess. "Don't worry 'bout it," he muttered, gruffly, "I do." Jesse's gaze lifted briefly, taking quick looks at Elio as if to remind himself it was real that he was actually there. He'd come back. "But I ain't shit for the artistry part of it, so.." He pushed some of the tools, spreading them out on the uneven wooden table, for Elio to have his pick of whatever he needed in order to turn those scraps of rusted metal into twisted pig parts.

Once those were hammered out, they could weld it on. "Put these on," he ordered the man, tossing a pair of thick workman's gloves down. "You catch yourself on that rust n' get yourself lockjaw n' shit, otherwise."

Elio caught the gloves and tugged them on.

“I have my tetanus shot, I think.” He pulled on the gloves a little harder just in case. Nothing sexier than spending the evening in the emergency room after all.

The artist turned his attention to Jesse and watched as his messy curls fell unbound without his hat. Damn, he was beautiful. More beautiful than the coastline and the ocean waves crashing against the shore.

And, suddenly, they were kissing. It was a quick kiss, firm and possessive.

Elio was reminded of the view of Carroll from the top of the Ferris Wheel, his hand intertwined with Jesse’s. He found they did that often now: touch for the sake of touching. A privilege that came with love. The sun had just set, and the lights of the carnival were so bright. And then, like something out of a fairy tale, fireworks erupted in reds and blues and greens. Wonder and awe made a home in his chest. Kissing Jesse was like this: incandescent.

When they pulled apart, Elio stood there dazed. He blinked, trying to arrange his thoughts in a way that was remotely coherent. “What was that for?” A stupid grin spread across his face. He stepped closer, welding project be damned. To think they could have been at the reception instead of doing this.

There was a whole list of reasons she decided to do that, and part of her was afraid that Elio would not want her there. That she would ruin this new place for him and for herself because out of all the places in the world, she chose to follow her brother. Those fears vanished in their tight hug.

"There was no hurricane when I made that decision, but it looks like I fit right in – you guys were having a spring carnival," she joked bitterly, waving over at the spot where the ferris wheel would be if it still stood upright. "I'm just glad you're okay and it's so good to see you." She pressed a happy, unnecessarily loud kiss to Elio's cheek, smile bright and wide.

“Ya’ didn't miss much,” he shrugged. “This place is always putting on some kind of event.” The artist was convinced these people never grew tired of each other. They were always celebrating or had an excuse to party.

“Sure, I'll show ya’ a good spot.” Elio led his sister down the path towards the water. Dodging drift wood and debris blown in by the storm, he found a deserted stretch of stand that stretched as far as the horizon.

“Watch for broken bottles,” he warned. To say the beach was a mess was an understatement. The hurricane had shrunk the walkable path with high tides and wreckage. Chunks of wood littered the sand and dozens of iridescent seashells dotted their path.

“So,” Elio started, unsure how to tactfully ask the question that had been spinning in his mind since their phone call. “No offense, but why'd ya’ come to Carroll? It can't just be because of me.”