I wrote words!
Title: Proof in Boots
Author: fizzerbass
Written for the bmm_drabbles Sept/Oct Challenge - Picture Prompts: BOOTS
Genre: post-canon AU
Warnings: None
Notes: I wrote words! That make sentences! And even form a little snippet of a story! Yay!
Dedication: This is for torry28 for never forgetting me.
Jack swings his feet up on the porch railing as he settles back into the worn seat of the old kitchen chair kept outside for just this reason. "Porch-sittin'" Jack likes to call it. "Lazy-ass, do-nothin' sittin'" Ennis always calls it, usually right before he yells at Jack for leaning back too far. "Don't come cryin' to me when you fall back and crack your dang-fool head open and bleed all over the porch everywhere. Course, I won't hear you 'cause I'll be out in the field workin' while you're just sittin' here doin' nothin'. Dang you, Jack Twist..." Jack smiles and crosses his feet, knowing a bitching Ennis del Mar is a happy Ennis del Mar.
"Awfully proud of those new boots, ain'tcha Twist? Could see you smilin' at 'em from a mile away."
Jack squints up at Ennis coming up the stairs, pushing his hat back an inch or two to get a better look at what he'd been staring at all along anyway. "Nope. Just admiring God's green earth and all his beautiful creations."
"Ain't no God, Jack." Ennis grunts as he walks past and into the house, the back door screeching closed in harmony with the refrigerator door swinging open inside.
Jack nods once slowly, waving a gnat away from his face instead of rehashing an argument they've had sixteen different ways to Sunday and twice on Mondays. Jack believing their finding each other up on that mountain was proof of God's existence, Ennis saying whatever it was between them was more likely a curse than any kind of blessing and sure proof that a loving God didn't exist.
Jack doesn't care, he knows better. All the proof he needs is standing in the kitchen, drinking a cold beer and getting ready to take a shower. And in about five minutes, he's going to take his shiny new boots off the railing and head inside their house to see if the grumpy son-of-a-bitch needs help running the water.
Author: fizzerbass
Written for the bmm_drabbles Sept/Oct Challenge - Picture Prompts: BOOTS
Genre: post-canon AU
Warnings: None
Notes: I wrote words! That make sentences! And even form a little snippet of a story! Yay!
Dedication: This is for torry28 for never forgetting me.
Jack swings his feet up on the porch railing as he settles back into the worn seat of the old kitchen chair kept outside for just this reason. "Porch-sittin'" Jack likes to call it. "Lazy-ass, do-nothin' sittin'" Ennis always calls it, usually right before he yells at Jack for leaning back too far. "Don't come cryin' to me when you fall back and crack your dang-fool head open and bleed all over the porch everywhere. Course, I won't hear you 'cause I'll be out in the field workin' while you're just sittin' here doin' nothin'. Dang you, Jack Twist..." Jack smiles and crosses his feet, knowing a bitching Ennis del Mar is a happy Ennis del Mar.
"Awfully proud of those new boots, ain'tcha Twist? Could see you smilin' at 'em from a mile away."
Jack squints up at Ennis coming up the stairs, pushing his hat back an inch or two to get a better look at what he'd been staring at all along anyway. "Nope. Just admiring God's green earth and all his beautiful creations."
"Ain't no God, Jack." Ennis grunts as he walks past and into the house, the back door screeching closed in harmony with the refrigerator door swinging open inside.
Jack nods once slowly, waving a gnat away from his face instead of rehashing an argument they've had sixteen different ways to Sunday and twice on Mondays. Jack believing their finding each other up on that mountain was proof of God's existence, Ennis saying whatever it was between them was more likely a curse than any kind of blessing and sure proof that a loving God didn't exist.
Jack doesn't care, he knows better. All the proof he needs is standing in the kitchen, drinking a cold beer and getting ready to take a shower. And in about five minutes, he's going to take his shiny new boots off the railing and head inside their house to see if the grumpy son-of-a-bitch needs help running the water.