Gift Fic for albinococonut23

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GIFT FIC for albinococonut23



Title: We Are Always Searching
Pairing/Group/Members: Jun Matsumoto/Kazunari Ninomiya
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for hints of romance, some curse words, and a little bit of blood
Summary: Jun bides his time in a tiny town far out in the West, waiting for Nino to arrive with the map. When he does, their journey can finally begin.
Note: Please assume that this fic takes place in the mid to late 1800s, after the beginning of the construction of the Transcontinental Railroad in American west but before the popularization of the automobile. Although all the included details are compliant with the history of Andorra, “Muntanya de la Majestat” is completely fictional and there is no evidence that the Count of Foix ever hid any treasure in the Pyrenees mountain range. I hope you enjoy this story that is part Western, part adventure, and part romance. Title is taken from the lyrics of Arashi’s eponymous debut song.




Blood spurted all over Jun’s otherwise immaculate outfit and all he could do was sigh. Getting dirty was as much a part of the job description as cutting of testicles and sewing up scrapes, but that didn’t make it pleasant.

“Someone keep her head still,” he snapped, and presently several ropes were looped around her neck and used to restrain her.

She bellowed, clearly terrified and in pain. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

At least it was easy to fix. A few minutes later the cow was chewing her cud peacefully, balled up cotton packed into the stump where one of her horns used to be. She appeared none the worse off for having lost it, though she did look a little funny.

“I think we’d better let her keep the one she’s got left. She’ll be a bit lopsided, but a cow can gore a coyote almost as good with one horn as with two. Take away both though, and she won’t be able to defend herself.”

The cow’s owner nodded. “Much obliged, Doc. Figured we’d have to make steak outta her when I saw all that blood. You saved me a good milking cow, and the kids are right fond of old Flossie, dumb as she is. Nearly twenty years of keeping cattle and I’ve never had a cow rip her own dang horn off ‘till now!”

Jun chuckled with the farmer. “I’ll take a dumb cow over a mean one any day, Bert. I’m happy I could save this one for you.”

“Me and mine sure do thank you.”

‘Mine’ referred to the raggedy assembly of Bert’s children, who’d watched the proceedings raptly. Glancing at them now for the first time, Jun had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing. Each and every one of them had the same squished nose, bug eyes, and elephantine ears as their sire. A good-looking bunch they were not, though they made up for it by being genial and polite, just like the father who afflicted them with their appearance. Jun handed the tallest of them the snapped off horn and told her to be careful with it.

“Bert, are you fixing to talk the man’s ear off? Invite the poor fella in already, the food’s getting cold! And tell the kids to get in here and wash up!” Though her voice was loud, the missus was clearly as kind as her husband, for the shouted message was filled with loving exasperation at the spouse and children who were always moving just a mite too slowly.

Bert grinned, grabbed the nearest kid, and hoisted him, squealing, over his shoulders. “C’mon, you heard the little lady!” He shouted over the clamoring of the rest of his progeny and led the way to their comfortable looking home. One of the bolder young daughters took Jun by the hand and tugged him along.

Once they were all seated around the table, Jun couldn’t help but marvel at how out of place he looked amongst Bert’s clan. It was more than simply the fact that Jun was comely while they were homely. Though he and Bert were roughly the same height, Bert, like the rest of his family, was rugged, ruddy complexioned, and rough-hewn. Jun was built with thinner, sharper, more refined lines. His eyes and hair were equally dark and equally different when compared to Bert’s brown and blond. Not to mention that they were obviously, thoroughly American while Jun was indubitably Asiatic in descent. They welcomed him despite the disparity: the xenophobia that characterized many communities had no place in this household, nor in the town in general, thanks to the Central Pacific Railroad project that was currently underway. There was no stop in town, but the tracks ran close enough that for a while some of the Chinese immigrants had come to it to buy necessities while they were in the area. As such, folks from these parts tended to be accepting of others, even if they didn’t look quite the same.

Bert’s wife insisted that Jun, as the guest of honor, help himself first.

“Don’t be bashful, Doc,” she chided him, disparaging the modest portions on his plate. “We’ve got to fatten you up before the wind blows you away like a tumbleweed.”

However, before more food could be foisted upon him (indeed, before he’d even gotten to take a single bite of what he already had), a gangly teenager burst into the dining room.

“Mad dog! There’s a mad dog, Doc! Near the general store!”

Jun was on his feet and out the door in an instant, leaving Bert’s missus shaking her head disapprovingly and vowing to feed him some other, less hectic day.

It was easy enough to locate the dog, a medium sized cur loping down Main Street on unsteady legs, foam dripping from its mouth. A group of men were clustered on the genera store’s front porch; other than that the road was, fortunately, deserted. One of the group saw Jun and waved him over gratefully. “Good to see you, Doc! We could use you right now.”

“Why haven’t you shot it yet?” Jun demanded. If he sounded a little impatient, he could hardly be faulted. Every man present, excluding himself, had a gun, and could have easily taken care of what needed to be done.

“It ain’t that easy, Doc. That there is one of Frank’s good hunting dogs. He claims it just addled by the heat, and says he’ll put a bullet in any man who kills it.”

Narrowing his eyes, Jun scanned the crowd for Frank. “He’s inside, buying tobacco,” a different man informed him helpfully. “Frank! Get out here!”

Hearing his name called, Frank threw open the door, probably intending to yell at whoever had disturbed his purchase and insist that his dog wasn’t mad. However, by opening the door he accidentally released the shopkeeper’s two little mutts, who’d been shut up inside to keep them away from the mad dog. They dashed down the street, happy to be free from the indoors at last, and seemed not to notice the foamy-mouthed dog. It noticed them though; without so much as a warning growl, it tore out the throat of one of the unfortunate mutts and fell upon the second.

Then a bullet blew its brain to bits. Jun calmly handed the gun back to its owner before walking down the street and kicking the carcass off the terrified little dog. Holding it by the scruff, he examined it thoroughly before carrying it back to the store.

“There isn’t any evidence that the mad dog bit her deep, but you’ll have to keep a close eye on her for the next month. If she starts showing any signs of madness, put her down before she spreads it around.” He released the dog and she crawled into the store on her belly, whimpering quietly.

“As for you, Frank, obviously you didn't know what a mad dog looks like before. Now you do. Try to remember.” With a mocking tip of his hat, Jun started to walk away.

“Um, Doc…” Frank said hesitantly. “One of my bitches was due to whelp a few days ago, and nothing’s happening. She’s been howling up a storm and seems to be in pain… Do you think you could take a look at her?”

Jun sighed. Much as he disliked the owner, he’d never take it out on an animal. “You take care of burying the mad dog deep and cleaning up the mess. I’ll see what I can do for the lady-dog and her pups.”

“There goes the deadest shot in the whole damn town,” one of the men whispered when Jun was out of earshot. “And to think, he doesn’t even own his own gun! Wonder how he got so good.”

No one knew much about Jun Matsumoto. He was a bachelor who blew into town one otherwise unremarkable morning and rented out the room in Miz Abby’s boardinghouse that always been empty until then. On the day of his arrival, he saved little Lucy Walker’s kitten after the poor thing got its tail run over by a wagon (it was still alive to this day, and none the worse off for only having a stump on its hind end). They called him ‘the critter doc’ after that incident, shortened to just ‘Doc,’ since none of them could pronounce his name properly. Doc was an enigma: he wasn’t a farmer, which was the most popular occupation for menfolk in this town, nor was he a peddler, shopkeeper, or laborer or craftsman of any kind. In a place where most folks owned no more than two shirts apiece, his wardrobe was comparatively massive, and he was always dressed well (though the clothing was invariably stained with at least one animal’s bodily fluids by the end of the day). It was generally assumed that he was a Chinese railroad worker who’d quit his job for whatever reason and somehow become affluent. Since Jun never offered any information about himself, he could hardly fault them for coming to that conclusion.

As he crouched beside Frank’s overdue hound and gently palpated her bulging abdomen, Jun smirked to himself. Even if he told them the truth of his identity, and his riches, the townsfolk probably wouldn’t believe him. To them he was nothing more than a man with a knack for fixing animals; slightly quick-tempered and sharp-tongued, otherwise easy to get along with, and not out of the ordinary in any way at all.

After delivering the pups, he made his way back to Main Street, intent on finally taking his midday meal. A small café was operated out of the main store, and since Jun didn’t feel like cooking, that was where he went. In no time at all he was tucking into his plate, which the shopkeeper had promised was ‘on the house’ to thank him for his earlier actions.

Jun was still seated there, chasing his lunch with some coffee, when Nino stomped in, looking furious.

“There’d better be something for me eat, Jun, that’s all I can say.” He collapsed into his chair, wincing as his saddle sores protested the pressure. “I hate horses. The day motorized vehicles replace them can’t come too soon.”

“It’s good to see you too, Nino.” Jun waved over the shopkeeper who hastened to bring over another full plate before retreating to his place behind the register, where he could eavesdrop inconspicuously. “Actually, I’m surprised it took you this long to find me.”

“I’ve been busy finding other things. But we’ll discuss that more later.”

With that, they fell into a companionable silence until Nino was done eating. Then they stood, retrieved Nino’s tired looking gelding from where he’d been hitched, and went to Jun’s house, where they could discuss Nino’s findings in private.

“Turns out the rumors were good,” he began, smiling what Jun privately referred to as his shit-eating grin. “Figure it’ll take us at least a year to get there, but once we do the treasure is as good as ours.”

Nino pulled a length of parchment from his worn messenger bag and unfurled it onto Jun’s desk. “Muntanya de la Majestat, or Mountain of Majesty, if you prefer.”

“Mountains, huh? Lets try to time it so we’re not stuck there in the winter.” Jun shivered, recalling some past expeditions where he legitimately thought they’d freeze to death.

“The treasure’s been waiting to be claimed since the Count of Foix hid it there in the late 11th century. I expect it won’t mind if we make it wait for a little while longer.”

While Jun studied the map, Nino looked around his home.

“Hey, Jun-pon.”

Jun looked up. “What is it?”

“You’ve got a nice place here. Sure you don’t want to hang up your treasure-hunting hat and settle down? You’d make a decent cowboy, or farmer maybe.” There was a shyness in Nino’s eyes when they met Jun’s, one that Jun had seen flashes of before but had never acknowledged.

This time he did. “No, Nino. You said it yourself, the age of horsepower is almost over. We have to stay with the times. And anyways,” he finished with a bright smile, “we’ll have plenty of time to settle down once our adventuring days our over. But not yet.”

He handed the map back to Nino and started to pack. “I’ve still got more gems than I know what to do with leftover from last time. Think you can take care of them for me?”

Immediately Nino was in shrewd businessman mode. “Of course, if you give me a cut of the profits.”

“You already got your half, Nino, don’t be such a miser! The money is going to be put into gear, lodging, and food for us both anyways.”

“Ok, ok.” Nino relented, accepting about a dozen small bags from Jun. “But there better not be any horseback riding.”

“Well, we’re climbing mountains.” Jun’s grin could only be described as ‘deviously satisfied’. “So it’ll probably be burros. Maybe yaks? I’ve never been to the Pyrenees mountains before.”

Nino groaned. The things he did to acquire immeasurable wealth!

Before they set off on (another) journey of a lifetime, the pair spent one final night in Jun’s town. When asked, they merely stated that they had itchy feet and wandering eyes, for who would believe that they were treasure hunters with more fortune under their belts than this town and at least three dozen others combined?

Nino borrowed the old piano in the saloon. Jun surprised all the townsfolk by singing along to it. And the following morning, they were gone.

Globe-trotting was no easy feat, with methods of transportation being limited to animals, locomotives, hot air balloons, and, when they finally arrived at the ocean, steamships; it was fortunate that for these adventurers, the trek was at least as much fun as finally getting to the treasure. Jun handled all the travel arrangements, while Nino was in charge of financial affairs.

It took them nearly the whole summer to get from Jun’s little western town to the harbor that housed the boat that would carry them to France. Jun booked them one of the last available fist class cabins, not only because he demanded luxury whenever possible, but because it was going to be a hell of a long voyage. Though both he and Nino were accustomed to being on boats for a long time, a little bit of class could go a long way to stopping boredom from setting in.

Nino griped about having to wear a suit to dinner and ordered room service more often than not. Other than that, the second leg of their expedition was far more pleasant than the first (if Nino never had to ride another horse again, it would be too soon).

As the only two Asian men aboard, they were objects of curiosity to the other passengers, something that they were quite used to by now. They fended off their questions with polite non-answers and kept their identities and intentions under wraps. No good could come of spreading word that there was treasure to be found; the last thing Jun and Nino wanted was to have it stolen from under their noses.

Winter arrived in France with them. They were able to get as far as Andorra before settling in to hibernate until the mountains were thawed out enough to traverse.

Both Jun and Nino spoke French at a conversational level, and were thus able to communicate with the locals despite not understanding a word of the country’s official language, Catalan. Jun even fell into his old habit of helping out sick and injured animals and re-earned his old title in a new tongue.

“For a man who never went to medical school, there sure are a lot of people who call you ‘doctor’,” Nino teased him. “You’ll always be ‘Jun-pon’ to me though.”

For a little while they stayed in a hotel, but soon grew tired of not having enough space, especially after being stuck on a ship for such a long time. After jumping over some language barriers, Jun was able to rent them a comfortable cabin in the residential area of the town, and they found that much more suited to their needs.

Since there was only a single bedroom, Nino graciously conceded it to Jun while he camped out on the couch in the front room. However, when Jun found him shivering even with several blankets, he insisted that they share the bed in the more insulated back room.

“The last thing I need is for you to hypothermia or frostbite before we’ve even started climbing. I’m sure you’ve shared your bed with worse partners.”

Nino pretended to consider that. “Hmmm…. Nope, none that I can think of.”

He yelped when Jun whacked him over the head with a pillow. “Fine, fine, there might have been one worse person than you. Quit, it Jun, hey!”

Nino curled into a ball, laughing, as Jun, also laughing hit him relentlessly with the pillow until they were both out of breath. After that, it wasn’t awkward to get under the covers together.

In a little under three month’s time, they’d be climbing the Pyrenees mountains in search of the treasure hidden in the fabled Muntanya de la Majestat. Until then, they would enjoy each other’s company.

Maybe they’d even cuddle a little.

Comments

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A sparkling Spot for albinococonut23

[albinococonut23.livejournal.com]

8DDDDDDDDDDDD
Oh boy, where do I start?! I really love how effortlessly you wrote this other time period. I could envision it perfectly, and the pace was wonderful. I adore these two as a duo, and I think you totally captured the best aspects of their dynamic. I'm such a sucker for Jun being mysterious, and a good shot (but not owning his own gun! Awesome detail!) And of course Nino complaining about the horses, and waltzing back into Jun's life like it's nothing. AND THEN THEY RUN OFF TOGETHER ahgjdsfskfsjda <3

Gee, thank you so much for writing this! I LOOOOVE it! Thank you thank you!