Catching F I R E || HARRIS

[Ryan Elliott]

The harsh rain that had fallen over the landscape dampened the sound of leaves crunching under his feet. He paused to survey his surroundings. Having been still-hunting for several hours Indiana was beginning to fatigue and knew that his patience was waning. Indiana's hands were cold and the cold was spreading through his body like a disease from the middle ages. God did he know that fatigue and cold were about to make his still hunting prowess a casualty.

But he had to find his brother, and maybe some food tonight on his trek back home. A place that after hardly being in for a couple months his brother might be back at.

He'd seen several does and a small four-point along the way, but had passed on all of them, something now that he, could not find one good, sane reason for doing. His stomach ached, and he regretted not at least finding some small creature to snack on. His hope was flickering like a candle in the storm that washed over the plains and forest earlier. Everything was still now, however he was starting to loose hope and was beginning to think that he would go home from this whitetail hunt empty handed, and without any new sources on where his brother went.

He'd already broken too many bones of others at this rate, and it hadn't gotten him much more than a 'Maybe he doesn't want you to find him.' Or an 'I don't know were he is.' Apparently his brothers friends tolerated pain good.

Indiana leaned his crossbow on a maple tree and pulled out a water bottle and took a swig. Returning it and then took back to walking, thinking about Harris again. Why would he continue too look for somebody who was dead or had long left him? Hell he didn't even know, he wasn't sure if he could keep this up anymore, the long sleepless nights, most of them spent out in the woods, and sometimes he could swear he's seen his brother, but as soon as he gets to where he ought to of seen him, he isn't there.

Indiana missed the days, were he could be back home in there old log cabin, the smell of smoke and frying whatever they went hunting for wafting in the air. The smell of saddle leather and gun oil and venison frying with garlic. He liked watching the flames dance inside the old cast iron wood stove and dreaming about what he might see tomorrow or regretting the mistakes that he'd made today.

He liked to throw a log on every now and then and lean back and feel the thick hollow hairs of the deer hide that covered his brothers favorite chair, before he kicked him out of it. They'd sip old scotch and talk, about everything but there feelings because that's just 'gay'.
Oh and he missed how he'd get up early and feel the cold morning air burn his lungs as he'd take a deep pollution free breath of life. Yeah he liked to feel his heart beat like a grouse's wings when he'd catch a glimpse of a gray deer slipping between the trees in the fading sunlight.

Biting his bottom lip, he knew he was thinking too much. He shook his head and sighed, realizing he'd stopped. There was something bright up ahead, beyond the tree outlines of the dark, it was brighter than the stars in the sky, and it looked like something catching fire.

"Fuckin' ell' the cabin." The young man cursed under his breath. Tightening his grip on his crossbow before rushing towards the fire, and his home. Everything was wet from the rain, but apparently not wet enough to keep his house from burning down. Because even though he ran faster than he ever had, it wasn't enough. Everything was gone left to smolder in ashes. Thick clouds of smoke billowed around, and the fire was still bright enough to see it all.

Tears wanted to whelp up in his eyes, but they didn't he slung his crossbow down to the ground and clinched his fist tightly until he drew blood. Indiana could keep his zen, he could damn well keep it under control. So what if his whole life the only home that ever mattered, that his mother and father died in and by was gone, so what if he'd never get to do everything he ever was thinking about again. So what if his brother was gone....

"Speak of the fuckin' devil." He looked horrified as the figure of his brother, Harris came into view. "I LOOKED EVERYWHERE FER' YEW' YA' SON OF UH' BITCH." He sobbed out, moving to swing at the familiar face, that didn't seem so familiar anymore.
"N' I COME HOME TO THIS." He shook, his whole body shook, as his cold hands met the heat of his brothers face, and he hadn't felt the pain that would swell through his knuckles again, or felt more blood pooling from his palm as he clenched his fists once more.

[nikkinovak]

Harris was tired of running.

The reason why he'd started traveling was the fact that he was running from his past, from his father and mother, and even from Indiana. It was hell to look at somebody every day, when you felt you'd let them down. Better for him to fend for himself, Harris had thought to himself over and over, After all, I taught him well. Taught him to be like me. And I can do this.

It wasn't easy, sure. Leaving someone who you were practically joined at the hip with never was. But it was all for Indiana, and Harris had kept an eye on his younger brother. Made sure he didn't get in trouble. He'd accumulated a small fortune over the last six months, having sold drugs and stolen goods across the land for awhile now. Enough to pick up and leave, to run away somewhere. Start fresh. Maybe buy Indiana a new home with land and further the kid's hunting work. Buy him new tools, maybe even new clothes for the gods' sake.

All for Indy. It was the one thing that kept him going.

The air was fresh and sweet due to the violent storm that had recently rolled through the area, and Harris stood under a large Oak that had stood guard over the small house before his grandparents had ever even been thought of. The hunter watched impassively as black, oily smoke billowed out of the shattered out windows, and stared up at the angry flames licking the late evening sky, which was already orange enough with the setting sun without the help of fire glow.

This cabin was a place where dreams were born, and where they died. It was a place where anger and hopelessness festered, but it had also, at one time, been a place where love and children were raised. It was a familiar place, old, but built and repaired with strong hands, and was one where Harris and Indiana Ford had spent many a night watching the fire cook their latest spoils of a hunt as the two men said everything while saying nothing at all. The home had an expectant air about it, somehow, as if the dust just needed to be blown off so that all the former occupants could come back in to finish business never even started.

And Harris had just burnt it, all of it, to the ground.

He wanted to start anew, yes, and the only way Harris could see that as feasible was to start where it all began. And damn, his hunter instincts must not be as sharp as they once were, because he doesn't see or hear his younger brother emerge from the woods until he was right there. Harris wanted to say hello, maybe even wanted to fold Indy into an embrace, but a wrecked voice met his ears before a fist connected with his jaw, sending the caught off guard hunter reeling into the dirt.

"...Sonovabitch," He swore heatedly, spitting out leaves and gritty dirt as he worked his jaw, pushing himself up slowly on one elbow as he peered up at his baby brother through too-long bangs. Harris was incredibly pissed that Indiana would even consider smacking him in any way, but a big part of him was proud that his brother had the balls to do it. He didn't hold back either, and Harris could respect that. It was a long time coming, after all.

"You hit me again an' you're gonna regret it, ya fuckin' brat." The threat was automatic, and Harris reached and used Indiana to pull himself up, partly out of spite and partly because he couldn't reach anything else. The hunter wouldn't bother with the sharing and caring BS, and yeah, that includes the part where they run into eachother's arms with tears and an "I love and missed you." That stuff didn't happen in real life.

If anything, an "I hate that I can't quit you, you bastard, and you shoulda stayed gone if you were gonna pull shit like this" would be more appropriate.

Harris let go of his jaw, feeling the scratch of short stubble and the throb of a growing bruise, before sighing with tamped down anger. "I did us a favour, Indy. You actu'ly wanna still sit around in that hellhole? I always hated the place, ta be com-pletely honest. Jus' another thing we needed ta get rid of. Didn't need it, Indy."

"Just another thing I needed to get rid of" was what it sounded like, and that was kind of true.

Harris snapped his fingers, and the flames in the house sputtered and winked out almost immediately. It didn't do nothing to make the house look better, and there were now gaping, charred holes where windows and doors once stood. The air was still hot, and strong smoke was settling and filled the once-clear air around them. It was definitely tense.

"Doncha see what the hell I've been up to the whole time I was gone? Was makin' money, little brother. Makin' money so we could hightail it outta here. An' not 'cause I fucked somethin' up. You're really gonna be an ungrateful kid like that?"

Harris wanted to say that he did it all for Indiana, but what the hell? Nobody but girls say that shit. And Harris was most certainly not a girl.

[Ryan Elliott]

Words sounded so hollow to him right now, words that he'd heard time and time again, so what was different now? What made things change? Nothing that's what, so of course he didn't regret the punch no, for the first time in his life, he enjoyed it. However his moment was cut short by his brother pulling him to maneuver himself up, and like he'd always done he let him do as he pleased, with nothing more than a simple grunt and grit of his teeth, that fangs bared slightly out.

The boys eyes were still whelped up with tears, and his bow now lay slung over to the side on the ground. The smoke and flakes of ash almost making it art to breath or see. But he didn't really care at this point, and the moment his older brother called him 'ungrateful' he could of hit him once more, but all he did was bow up his chest and step forward there bodies pressing up against each other in a struggle for what would surely be dominance.

"Ungrateful? Scuse' me? Bu' I ain't been nothin' bu' grateful for what you've done, so dun' come back to me spoutin' that bullshit." He choked out, his voice struggling to find itself. But he held his own, and you really had to respect that, after he'd surely get a punch to the face with that quip. But hell if his brother taught him anything it was to enjoy it, it only made them madder. "So go on ahead, call me ungrateful, cause I'll leave now and just stop lookin' fer' yew', act like I never even found you. Like you never came back." That was harder to say than anything he'd ever said before and it almost killed him to even think about doing that, because he knew he couldn't really. He knew he couldn't do that to Harris, he was the only love he'd ever known, and he'd be damned if he let him walk away again.

"I looked fer' yew' ya' know...I looked everywhere I knew too." Indiana's words weren't so harsh now, and didn't suit his bowed up stance.

[nikkinovak]

Harris' face went all pinched up when his younger brother retorted with angry words and damp eyes. He wasn't intimidated at all by Indiana, and merely pressed back against him in a show of the fact that he simply wasn't going to back down. He'd been gone "earning" money while Indiana had been looking for him, for his brother. He'd done it all for Indiana, and in his mind, this behaviour of Indy's was just utter childish ungratefulness.

"How 'bout you wipe your eyes 'fore I really give ya somethin' ta cry 'bout?" He hissed between clenched teeth, jaw set and determined. Harris knew that Indiana was upset because of his brother leaving him, and as much as the thought made a thrill of pride go off in his chest, it greatly pissed him off, somehow. Indiana wasn't a baby. He should know better than to place all his faith and happiness in one person.

But the day Harris enforces that rule will be the one when he himself can follow it.

At Indiana's threat, a flare of anger rose in the Magundi before he even knew it was coming, and he didn't care that his brother's voice had lost its venom right afterwards. Harris felt himself snap, and made a grab for Indiana's arm, pinning it behind his back before forcing him to the ground, shoving a knee onto his brother's chest to keep him held against the dirt.

"Fuckin' hell, Indy!" Harris swore, his tone of voice a little too high, too emotional. The man hates it. "Don'tchou ever say that again. Th' day you get ridda me'll be tha day you put me in tha ground and throw dirt over my cold ass, ya understand me?"

It's babbled out before Harris can think his words through, and yeah, his need for Indiana to be by his side is sort of showing through. His eyes were wide and wild, his teeth gritted in a feral snarl as he studied his younger brother. Harris' grip suddenly lessened, and his expression gets calmer. The ash falling around them was like snow, and Harris could've choked on it if he were breathing. He was utterly still for a long moment before speaking again, his voice quiet.

"...I was watchin' you tha whole time. Kept an eye on my pain in tha ass little brother. Wasn't gone Indy, not really." It was like saying that he'd been worried for Indy without saying it, but Harris didn't see it completely that way. It was just the stone cold truth, and he was saying it.

The older of the two grimaced before the look sharpened into a glare. "If you smashed my damn cigarettes, yer gettin' yerself a one way ticket ta Kingdom Come, Sweet Thing." Harris spoke, referring to when he'd been punched and fell earlier. He was back at using what should be endearments in a mocking way, and it was all too comforting for the older brother.

[Ryan Elliott]

He knew the older male wasn't the least bit scared or worried by him, hell he learned all his tricks from his dear ol' brother. So unless Harris was scared of himself than there was nothing to worry about. Maybe the scariest thing was that Indiana was such much like Harris that he never really got to find himself, and when he had over the past few months, all he wanted was the very man that helped stunt his development.
If he was ungrateful he'd only learned it from his brother, so Harris really had none else to blame did he? At least that was Indiana's two cents on the matter.

Jaws locked as gritted his teeth, before backing away slightly, and looking away and down, he'd always been the submissive one of the two, so as much as he didn't want to backing down came second nature only to hunting. Before he could move much further however he'd been twisted and thrown down, pinned to the ground even, before so much as 'peep' could rise out of him in one sudden fell sweep he could feel the cold hard ground, and hear the cold hard truth coming from his brothers lips. Lips that were so close to him right now. What was he thinking anyway? He'd never really took much notice at those lips that were snapping at him right now.

God was his brother scary when he was angry, but Indiana knew all too well that his brother was showing more affection than anything else. It was just the warped sort of affection that nobody else understood but them. Honestly it worked out better that way, just the two of them in there own little world they created, were they only had themselves. But hell that was all they ever needed.
"I could nev'r git' rid' o' you Harris. I wouldn't even try..." He managed to mumble out look up at his brother with with those big pretty eyes of his, that seemed to delicate for a man like him. The rough shove to the ground hurt, and he hadn't really felt it till now, but it still wasn't the most pressing issue at hand.
"Go ahead give me that ticket then." He playfully dared back almost ignoring the fact his brother told him he never really left, because somehow he always knew that. "Cause' uh bet I did." He smirked, giving a toothy grin flashing upwards at his brother.

[nikkinovak]

Harris' face held its default, angry-suspicious expression as he studied his brother, keeping him held so that one arm was pinned behind the younger male's back and the other was held down. He knew that sticks and whatever else were probably poking Indiana's skin, but right then he didn't even care. Kid's been through worse.

The hunter seemed to realize that they were too close, close enough to feel the shaky breathing of angry pants, and Harris sneered before pulling back some, opting for plopping carelessly onto his brother's stomach instead of keeping him pinned with a knee. He didn't look as angry, especially as he heard Indiana's soft words, and his expression melted into one of blank observation, as if he was debating whether his baby brother was telling him the truth. The expression made him look younger, somehow.

He must have been pleased with his conclusions, and Harris grunted, patting Indiana's chest roughly. "I'll hold ya to it." It was simple enough, but it was like something had happened between the two brothers, like a spell had been broken and everything was back the way it was before Harris had ever disappeared. He knew that wasn't entirely true, but it was a comforting thought all the same.

The peaceful expression on the hunter's face was quickly replaced by a scowl at Indiana's cheeky reply, and Harris dug into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Sure enough, when he pulled them out and popped the top open, they weren't much more than a jumbled mix of shredded paper and mushed tobacco. Wonderful.

"You bastard, I'll fuckin' kill ya!" Harris growled, throwing the pack off to god knows where before flinging a fist down onto his brother's chest, hitting angrily a couple times before his rage seemed mostly subsided. His scowl seemed almost permanent as he rolled off of Indy and onto the sparse grass and dirt. The man looked like an overgrown, sulking child.

"Can't b'lieve you. You owe me a shitton of shit, ya hear? Jus' bought that earlier. Damn it." He continued to mutter angrily to himself, and ran his hands quickly through his hair. It made it stick out at funny angles.

[Ryan Elliott]

The sticks digging into his back were making his face turn into a wincing sort of expression, and the way his brother held him down was rough and dirty, much like everything about them and there lives. But he'd been though so much worse and this was more of a mild annoyance than anything. But they were still so very close, until maybe the older of the two realized that, pulling away. Part of the younger boy wanted to sprawl from beneath the older male, and reach out. Pull him closer because he hadn't seen him in so long. Because he hadn't been there for him, or rather he had, and they weren't the most touchy feely to start with but they still had each other in plain sight.

Indiana would never let his brother out of his field of vision again, he couldn't go through that again. Hell maybe they shouldn't be that close, maybe nobody should be that close, and he knew you could only really count on yourself in the end, that's what Harris had always taught him. Harris did also teach him how to not listen however and be hardheaded and this was the one thing he was such about. He let out a small 'Oof' when the bigger male haphazardly plopped down on his stomach, and Indiana bite his bottom lip absently, fidgeting underneath his brother, and freeing his arm.

The rough touch was enough to make him smile, and remind him that he wasn't going to be alone again, because Harris wouldn't let that happen, and he trusted Harris, even when the older man gave him a reason not to. Even when he didn't want to trust him. Fucking hell...he trusted him. That was worth more than what anybody else had given him. Somebody to trust. So he lay there all sprawled out with his brother on top of him, sitting like some sort of king, and in a sense he was. He sure ruled over almost every part of Indiana.

Of course the peaceful moment was ruined by his own snarly remark and his brother hitting him in response and finding out. Indiana found himself trying to bring his arms to protect his chest, but his brother had always managed to get past his defenses. It didn't hurt too bad though, only enough to make him grunt in response a few times. Giving off a toothy grin.

"If tha's the case then yew' owe me a shit ton, everythin' I owned was in the house." And that's when he realized all he had was his brother.
"All I got is yew' now." Oddly enough he was okay with this, and as he leaned to his side to face his brother, and look at him with those innocent eyes that sparkled under the light of the fire. He was okay with everything as long as Harris was there.