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Chapter Text

1976

The hot summer sun burned brightly through the front windshield of Hosea Matthews’ 1972 brigade blue Chevy Chevelle as he sped down the I-55 through Illinois. Nothing but the empty road and the sweet sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival playing through his cassette player’s speakers as he travelled towards a new life.

He had hit a stagnant point in his life; his previous venture of teaching theatre arts was becoming too dull and draining for him. He would be thirty-five in the late summer and needed something else to escape the monotonous life he no longer wanted. He had always dreamed of travelling across America when he was younger, and now, it was his chance. He sold nearly everything he owned and quit his job with a substantial amount of money in his pocket before he took out from Chicago a handful of days prior. He had no real final destination, just to drive until his heart told him to stop.

He was five miles south of Springfield when he spotted someone in the distance off the side of the interstate, arm stretched out in front of him with his thumb pointed upwards. He peeled off the interstate, slowing down and coming to a short stopping distance away from the hitchhiker.

”Lookin’ to get somewhere?” Hosea drawled through the open passenger side window, his sunglasses on the end of his nose.

”I’m tryin’ to get to St. Louis, but however far you can get me would be just fine,” The man replied, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“What do you know? I’m headin’ that direction already.” Hosea replied, a large grin on his face as he reached over and unlocked the passenger side door for the man. He tossed his luggage into the back seat before climbing in.

“Thank ya kindly, fine sir,” The man replied as Hosea pulled back onto the interstate.

“Not a worry at all,” Hosea added now, “You from these parts?”

”I’m from Pennsylvania, originally. My truck broke down halfway through Indiana, and I’ve been hitchin’ it since then. Piece of shit truck anyway.”

”Long ways,” Hosea breathed, “Why St. Louis?”

”I’m meetin’ with a friend. We’re headin’ down to Texas, or Mississippi, or maybe it was Louisiana. I ain’t quite sure.”

”Ah,” Hosea nodded, unsure what to say in response.

“Do you mind if I get some shut-eye?” The man asked without much of a pause, “Hot summer sun damn near giving me heatstroke.”

”Be my guest,” Hosea replied, turning down his music to a less offensive volume as the man leaned back into the car seat and fluttered his eyelids shut. Hosea woke him back up near the city limits of St. Louis, asking for more concrete directions on where to drop him off. There was a truck stop on the other side of town where he was due to meet this friend of his. The man explained he needed to give him a call from the payphone outside to tell him when he had arrived.

Hosea smoked outside of his car as the man made his phone call. He only caught snippets of the conversation from where he was standing, but from the man’s tone, Hosea considered sticking around to make sure everything was alright.

“What do you mean your brother ain’t home?” The hitchhiker breathed into the phone, “I came all this fucking way.”

“I ain’t sure what to tell ya, mister, Colm ain’t here. He left about a week ago, ain’t told anybody where he was goin’. Ain’t even said he was meeting up with nobody!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” The man mumbled into the telephone, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose now, “And you ain’t knowin’ where the hell he went?”

”No,” Colm’s brother replied now, matter-of-factly, “No clue in hell.”

”That fucker was my goddamn ticket out!” He bellowed now, yelling at the poor kid on the other line for no reason.

”I-I’m sorry, mister,” Colm’s brother stuttered, “I don’t know what to tell ya. Goodbye.”

The line clicked shut, and the man waited a few beats, listening to the dead air through the receiver.

“Goddamn shit!” He cursed, slamming the phone back on the receiver, the loud crash of metal echoing through the parking lot.

“That don’t seem too good,” Hosea spoke, closing the gap between them as he tossed his cigarette on the ground.

”Fuckin’ piece of shit blindsided me. What a damn friend he was…”

“Is there anyone else you can call?” Hosea offered, “Parents, a friend?“

“There ain’t anybody.” The man snapped, looking away at the road that he could see in the distance. “Nobody at all. Just that fella who has seemed to fuck me over already.”

“How about I bring you to a bus station, get you back to,” Hosea paused, “Pennsylvania, was it?”

”No,” The man hissed, his eyes meeting Hosea’s once more, “I ain’t fuckin’ going back. No way in goddamn hell.”

”Alright,” Hosea breathed before sighing softly under his breath. His morals got the best of him, not wanting to abandon someone in a place like this if he could help it. “Look, I was going to get some food, you’re free to join me if you’re feelin’ hungry.”

”I- I could eat,” The man stuttered in response, unsure if Hosea was now taking pity on him or not.

”There’s a diner on the other end of St. Louis I’ve been meaning to visit if I ever had the chance. Something about world-famous cheeseburgers.” Hosea explained, “Does that interest you?”

”Sure,” The man replied, “I could do that.”

”Excellent,” Hosea added, a warm smile on his face. With a glance at his map, Hosea drove them towards Sue’s Diner.

”I don’t think I caught your name,” The man spoke as they came to a stop at an intersection.

”Hosea, and you?”

”Dutch.”

“Nice to meet you, Dutch,” Hosea grinned, catching those eyes for a moment with his own before pushing the accelerator.

”Likewise.”

Sue’s Diner was most definitely a tourist attraction, with old hubcaps and license plates scattered along the red walls. Countless Route 66 signs were displayed, with various blown-up pictures of different sights along the route on the walls. Dutch and Hosea shared a booth in the corner of the diner, finding their spots across from one another on the shiny red vinyl booth seats.

“So, what are your options?” Hosea inquired once they had nearly finished their portions of food, “If that fella of yours ain’t coming back?”

“I ain’t quite sure,” Dutch sighed, setting his drink back on the table, “I ain’t going back to Penn, that’s for sure.”

“Why’d you leave?” Hosea asked now, eyes carefully on Dutch.

“Good for nothin’ family. Good for nothin’ town. Good for nothin’ life if I stayed there any longer.” Dutch explained, “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever even left my hometown. First goddamn time and all this shit happens.”

“Ain’t that the truth? Sorry about your experience, Dutch, ain’t too great gettin’ left behind like that. You said he was a friend?”

“Barely. A friend of a friend of a friend. Some guy I barely knew and put faith in to get me outta Penn. Should have known he was gonna pull somethin’ like that.”

”I suppose it’s a lesson of where you let your loyalties lie,” Hosea pointed out, which got an annoyed eye roll out of the man across from him.

”I gathered that,” Dutch grumbled, “Don’t need to rub it in.”

“Apologies, I ain’t tryna be offensive,” Hosea sighed, “If Pennsylvania ain’t where you want to be, where do you want to be?”

”Anywhere but there. Out west, all the way to California, even. Maybe board a ship and land on some deserted island in the middle of the Pacific. Maybe hop a train up to Seattle, or into Canada. I don’t know. Just not Pennsylvania.”

”Big dreamer, you are,” Hosea chuckled softly, “Ain’t got no plans for the future?”

”Do you?” Dutch inquired now, eyes meeting Hosea. There was silence between the two of them for a handful of moments before Dutch spoke again. “Ain’t nobody got anything figured out in this world, Hosea, not even you.”

“You’re correct,” Hosea sighed, “I suppose for a while I did have my life set out for me. My goals, my aspirations, my future, but at some point, it went south. Things change.”

“We’re nothin’ but two men looking for a new beginning,” Dutch nodded, “Now, tell me, why St. Louis?”

“Just a stop on the journey,” Hosea explained, “I’m heading way out to California. Ending somewhere in Los Angeles, or maybe I’ll stop before I get there. Or take a detour and end up somewhere else entirely. Nothing is set in stone yet. I suppose it’s a little like your predicament, ain’t it, Dutch?”

“Like it was two stories written side by side,” Dutch grinned, “but why?”

”Searching for a new life,” Hosea sighed, realising he was more like this man across from him than he thought, “Wherever that is.”

“The heart will guide you where you need to be, fine sir,” Dutch replied matter of factly, “Do you have a route charted out, if I may ask?”

“For the most part,” Hosea said now, pulling the country map out of his jacket pocket, pushing their empty plates aside and sprawling the map out on the table. He pointed to Chicago, where his journey began, and dragged his pointer finger along the highlighted path he had created. The line sprawled through many states before concluding in southern California.

”Not a bad journey,” Dutch responded, his eyes scanning the paper on the table. Hosea kept his eyes carefully on Dutch as he acknowledged the look of wonder behind the younger man’s eyes. A spot in the back of his mind encouraged him to make a choice now. He let that part of his mind speak, not overthinking the reality of it or the consequences that would come.

“Like you said, we’re nothing but two men looking for a new beginning.” Hosea began, as Dutch flickered those eyes up to meet Hosea’s. “What do you say we find this new beginning together? Just two men, out on the lonesome roads of America, searching for something new.”

“Come with ya?” Dutch exclaimed, blinking a few times, “To California?”

”Or wherever you want to go along the way. If you get sick of me, I’ll let you out whenever. It’s up to you.”

”I don’t want to impose, Hosea. You were nice enough to bring me to St. Louis at the very least. If you’re on your journey, I ain’t gonna get in the way of that.”

“The roads are bland and empty from here to there.” Hosea explained, “The company would be nice, but I respect your decision if you’re not down for chasing a new beginning with a stranger.”

Dutch kept his eyes carefully on Hosea for a few moments before looking back down at the map. He considered the options, and my God, there weren’t many other choices for him. Besides, Hosea had been nothin’ but nice thus far, and when else would he ever be able to travel across America like this? He sighed before it turned into a chuckle.

“Fuck it,” Dutch finally said, “Let’s do it. Chase our new beginnings.”

”Excellent,” Hosea replied, folding up the map and tucking it back into his jacket pocket. ”What do you say we explore the city for a bit? Get some rooms for the night and figure it out from there?”

”Better plan than ever, dear sir,” Dutch grinned, before raising a hand to beckon the waiter back to their table. With payments made, they left the kitschy touristy diner and out onto the streets of St. Louis once more. They got a quick look at the iconic Gateway Arch, a large monument erected near the Mississippi River. They were brought up to the top, giving them a beautiful view of the city skyline and the river below.

“Ain’t nothin’ else like this,” Dutch breathed, a large grin on his face as he looked down, “Don’t have nothin’ like this back home. Small town with nothin’ but corn.”

“I bet the tallest view is from the water tower,” Hosea poked, eliciting a good laugh out of Dutch.

They spent some more time exploring around the area, walking along the river’s edge for a while before both decided to find a place to stay for the night. They settled on a hotel just outside St. Louis, offering two rooms for a low charge; continental breakfast included. The two men had drinks together in the lounge, finding a comfortable conversation between the two of them as they shared topics about themselves to feel a little less like strangers. They tucked in for the night at half past ten and reconvened down in the breakfast area at seven in the morning.

“Rise and shine, partner,” Dutch greeted cheerfully as he sat down across from Hosea with a morning coffee.

“How are you so chipper?” Hosea breathed, his head resting on his propped up hand, “Seven in the goddamn morning.”

“Youthfulness,” Dutch replied, “Twenty-four just passed over the horizon for me. Unlike you, old timer.”

“Oh, Good Lord, save me,” Hosea murmured, taking a large sip of his black coffee. “Thirty-five ain’t old.”

“No use arguing about the semantics of age,” Dutch dismissed, “What’s the next stop?”

“You’re already raring to go?”

“Can’t sit around all day! We’re travellers!”

“I ain’t quite sure about that, Dutch, but alright,” Hosea sighed, “Oklahoma City. That’s the next hotspot. Good, long drive away. I reckon we can stop somewhere on the other side of the state, but let’s just enjoy St. Louis for a bit. Head out when we head out.”

“So be it!” Dutch exclaimed, leaning back into his seat for a moment before leaving to collect breakfast for the two of them. They spent the day driving around, seeing more sights along the Mississippi River, even taking one of the steamboat tours. They had hit some record shops and charity shops later that day before finding a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that was recommended to them by a cashier at one of the shops. They spent one more day in St. Louis, visiting the museum of art and catching the tail end of some sort of parade that was coming through the streets. They never figured out what the parade was for, but they enjoyed the music and the atmosphere nevertheless

They were back on the open road at half past eight the following morning, the sun peeking out of the early morning clouds as it shone on the pavement of I-44. They listened to the radio as long as they could until the frequency was cut out, switching to Hosea’s cassettes he had in the glovebox. A handful of hours passed, Dutch dozing off for a short twenty-minute nap in the passenger seat before he began to grow quite bored with the music selection.

“Is this all you have?” Dutch whined, “Creedence on repeat? Do you even like anything else?”

“I beg your pardon,” Hosea replied, looking over the top edge of his sunglasses at Dutch beside him, “Of course I like other music.”

“Well then, play some other music, Hosea,” Dutch scoffed, “Good lord, been nearly three hours of the same old twelve songs that band had.”

“Radio doesn't work way out here any more,” Hosea pointed out, “You’re outta luck. We’ll buy some more cassettes in Oklahoma if you’re that damn concerned about it.”

Instead of replying, Dutch turned around and reached into one of his bags in the back seat. He rummaged around for a while, arm outstretched entirely as he tried to make contact with what he was searching for.

“Dutch, sit your ass down,” Hosea snapped, “Can’t goddamn see out of my mirror.”

“Ain’t nobody around, Hosea,” Dutch laughed as he pulled a small box out from his luggage and sat properly in his seat once more. Hosea glanced over as Dutch opened it up.

“You had a whole box of cassettes and didn’t think to grab ‘em earlier?” Hosea inquired, “What ya got?”

“All sorts, mostly Cash,” Dutch replied, pulling out one of them and swapping out the cassette that was in Hosea’s player.

“Been a good long while since I’ve listened to this fella,” Hosea breathed, as the tune of a song began.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Good music, ain’t it? How could I complain?”

“Good, because it’s what I’m playin’ until we find somewhere to stop.”

“In that case, you’re driving the rest of the way,” Hosea snickered, pulling over to a rest stop a half mile away. They swapped out before peeling back out onto the interstate, the sweet sounds of Cash’s guitar spilling out from the open windows.

Chapter Text

Another hour and a half of driving had them coming up to a small town called Mt. Vernon just after Springfield when Hosea spotted an unfortunate sign in the distance.

Road closed for maintenance. Detour onto 39.

“What in the goddamn hell?” Dutch grumbled, “Are they allowed to do that? Close an interstate?”

“It appears they’ve already done it,” Hosea jested, pulling the map out of his glovebox and trying to pinpoint where they were heading now. He directed Dutch down the road, having him turn off onto 160, then off-shooting onto 126 in a little town called Golden City with nothin’ but a supermarket as they continued due west.

“Gettin’ low on gas, Hosea,” Dutch pointed out now, “We’re stopping in the next town whether you like it or not.”

“One right there, just over the state line,” Hosea gestured to a road sign coming up, “Pittsburg. Feel like you’re back home?” He joked now, smacking Dutch’s elbow with the back of his hand.

“Maybe if they spelt it right, I would,” Dutch laughed, “Took the H off the end and gave it to you, I suppose.”

“Good one,” Hosea replied, head shaking in disbelief, “Turn off right here.”

Dutch pulled into the gas station, coming to a halt beside one of the pumps. He filled the car as Hosea went inside to ask for directions to a place to stay for the night. There were only three options of places to stay; technically, five if you counted the two hole-in-the-wall seedy places that Hosea didn’t feel too inclined to stay at. They stopped at the first place, it being fully booked, then the second, far too much money for a single night, before they continued to their last option. The only option available at the motel was a single room with two beds. Dutch and Hosea shared a knowing glance, both far too tired to drive anymore and just wanting a lie down.

“We’ll take it,” Hosea replied to the concierge as he grabbed the keys. Dutch’s bags had barely even hit the floor of the motel room before he was sprawled out on top of the sheets.

“Ain’t this nice, Hosea,” Dutch grinned, eyes shut as he inhaled the stale air.

“I ain’t quite sure about that,” Hosea winced, placing his luggage on the ground and sitting at the foot of the other bed.

“You reckon they do room service here? I’m starving.” Dutch added, rolling over onto his stomach and reaching for the phone on the nightstand.

“I don’t think we’re that lucky,” Hosea explained as Dutch picked up the phone, a bewildered look on his face as he realised the cord was no longer even attached to the receiver.

“Goddamnit,” Dutch laughed, putting it back as he pushed himself off the bed. “I could have sworn I saw a pizza place down the road. Are you interested?”

“As long as we bring it back here,” Hosea offered, “I ain’t wanting to sit down in any sort of restaurant right now.”

“That can be arranged, fine, sir,” Dutch grinned, holding the door open for Hosea. They came back to the motel room a half hour later, with a hot pepperoni pizza, as well as a bottle of whiskey they grabbed from the liquor store on the way back. They split the pizza and alcohol as they fell into a comfortable conversation.

“Was it Virginia, or West Virginia, you were from?” Dutch inquired, passing the bottle back to Hosea with hazy eyes.

“Virginia,” Hosea iterated, “In the mountains. Just me and my parents. They’re long gone now, they died when I was twenty-two, but Chicago is where I’ve called home for almost six years.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear about your parents, Hosea.”

“Don’t be. They loved me good and long when they were alive,” Hosea dismissed, passing the bottle back to Dutch as he lay down more comfortably on his bed, “I know your family ain’t been the best, that you made clear. That’s why you left, ain’t it?”

“My family,” Dutch began, with a shake of his head, “They had issues with how I was living my life. Lifestyle choices, or whatever the goddamn hell they said. Told the bastards I didn’t want to marry my goddamn cousin too, which set ‘em off. Bunch of inbred trash that can’t get along.”

“Good, you got out, then,” Hosea praised, eyes carefully on Dutch. “Ain’t married otherwise?”

“I ain’t. Definitely had my time foolin' round in the corn fields, but ain’t much more than that. What about yourself? Anybody back home?”

“No,” Hosea dismissed, “Ain’t nobody. Used to be married long ago, in my twenties, but she passed back in ‘68.”

“I’m sorry to hear,” Dutch breathed, “That’s a real shame.”

“Cancer,” Hosea stated, not feeling as much heartache to talk about it as he did when it was fresh, “Ain’t much we coulda done. Bessie loved me until the very end, and I, her. She was sick for a while, we knew it was comin’. It was in her wishes for me to find someone else to grow old with. She just wanted me to be happy. I didn’t date for what, three, four years after that. Met some nice people, had some fun, but ain’t nothin’ serious enough for me to tie the knot again.”

“Well,” Dutch began, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m sure there’s someone out there. Handsome fella like you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Good grief,” Hosea chuckled, looking away for a quick second as he tried to will the warmth on his face to settle. “Thank you.”

If anybody were to be the handsome kind, it would be Dutch. Hosea had caught himself staring at the man more often than not over the past little while. There was something about him: charming, comedic, alluring. Dark brown eyes with the dark curls to match. Hosea had had his fair share of foolin’ around with women and men alike over the years he spent in Chicago, and while that wasn’t his original intention with Dutch, he wouldn’t mind one bit if anything were to happen between them.

Dutch, on the other hand, knew damn well what he liked and how he liked it. The selection of men he could fool around with was limited in his small town, and he made do with what he could, but Hosea? Oh Lord, Hosea was like a goddamn dream to him, and here he was, stuck on an endless road trip with the man. All that suave beauty for him to stare at as much as he pleased. Those cheekbones, those hazel eyes, the blonde hair with bits of silver peppered through it. His smile was something that made him weak in the knees at times, especially when he had a cigarette dangling between his teeth.

“I mean it,” Dutch grinned, “Real handsome kind.”

“Give me that,” Hosea hissed, snatching the whiskey bottle back out of his hand and taking a good, long swig off it. “I reckon you’ve had enough for one night, mister.”

“Fair play,” Dutch replied, making the move to stand up and stumbling a bit as he made his way to the bathroom. Hosea had fallen asleep before Dutch had even returned, eliciting a small chuckle out of the younger man as he turned the lights off and settled into his bed for the night.

Hosea awoke the next morning, head pounding like he had been hit by a freighter. Dutch had peeled the curtains open bright and early, nothing but a slight belly ache giving him trouble.

“Shut. Those. Now.” Hosea hissed, pulling the covers up over his head, “Or this is your final stop on our journey.”

“I made you coffee, grumpy,” Dutch gestured to the bedside table, “Drink it before it gets cold.”

“Thank you,” Hosea grumbled, propping himself up in bed on his elbow. He groaned as the blood rushed through his body, pinching his eyes firmly in response to the sensation. He sipped the coffee slowly as Dutch took a morning shower. Hosea took one afterwards, colder than usual, in the hope it would shock his senses enough to hit the road again. It didn’t work, much to his chagrin, and so he popped a pain relief pill and shoved his sunglasses on his face before they checked out.

“Can y-” Hosea began as they put their luggage into his car, but Dutch got the gist of the question just from that.

“Yes, I can drive,” Dutch replied, “That whiskey did somethin’ harsh to you, didn’t it?”

“Shut it,” Hosea groaned, sitting in the passenger seat. “I ain’t drank like that in ages.”

“Hungry yet?” Dutch offered as they peeled out of the motel’s parking lot. “Big ol’ plate of eggs? Cheeseburger? How ‘bout a milkshake?”

“Don’t,” Hosea grimaced, “I’ll hurl and I love this car far too much to do that.”

“You ain’t much of a jokester when you’re hungover, are ya?” Dutch teased, poking Hosea in the shoulder. He glared daggers at Dutch over the top of his sunglasses, before turning his attention to the passenger side window.

“Just get on the goddamn interstate, Dutch,” Hosea replied, head shaking in disapproval, “Or I’ll leave you behind.”

Dutch laughed in response, pressing play on the cassette that still sat in the player as he turned onto I-160 due south. They stopped in a town by the name of Vinita for breakfast after over an hour of driving; Hosea’s nausea had settled just enough for him to stomach a bit of food and nurse a coffee. Dutch continued driving as Hosea napped, before he woke him up in Tulsa to swap out. Another 140 miles and they arrived at their destination, Oklahoma City.

The city stood as the centre point of Route 66; the heart of it all. Staying here for a few days became a plan for both Hosea and Dutch, and so they found a place in the middle of the city that offered them two rooms. Although Dutch suggested they just share another room like they did prior, explaining how it was the most cost-efficient thing to do if they were going to be staying here a while. Hosea was good and solid with his finances, and while he had no clue how much money Dutch truly had, he’d hate for him to run out of money at some point.

Dutch hadn’t told Hosea the full story about his money yet. In plain terms, it was a mixture of all his savings from years of working at an auto shop since he was sixteen and a large amount of money he stole from his parents and as much of his siblings as he could nick from. He did not incline to ever go back to them and had enough hatred for them that robbing them blind didn’t feel as criminal to him as it should. Besides, ain’t that van der Linde money his too?

The room they had gotten was quite nice. Two comfy queen sized beds, a table and chairs, a radio, even a goddamn television. They found homes for their luggage, knowing they’d be staying here for a while before they smoked outside on the balcony as the orange summer haze began to settle.

“What do you say we go out and have some fun tonight?” Dutch offered, cigarette smoke hovering whimsically above him in the hot sun, “Some sort of honky-tonk I saw advertised just down the road from here. Line dancin’, and the like.”

“I didn’t know you liked to dance,” Hosea chuckled, cigarette dangling between his teeth as he leaned back into his chair.

“Who doesn’t like to dance, Hosea?” Dutch exclaimed, “Have you ever been square dancing?”

“Of course I have. Do you forget where I’m from?”

“Then square dancin’ we will do!”

Country music buzzed through the bar as they entered through the front entrance at half past seven, patrons already doing two steps and jigs in front of the stage. Hosea and Dutch slipped into a booth around the corner, hailing a waitress to get some food. Dutch bought them each a whiskey too, a nicer tasting one this time than the cheap one they had last night. It went down smoothly, and they ate their meals before Dutch offered that they go and dance. They hopped into a simple line dance they both could decipher easily enough before the nine o’clock square dancing that Dutch had known about began.

It had been a good long while since Hosea had square danced, bars like that not being as easily accessible in Chicago as they were back home in Virginia. Meanwhile, Dutch spent more time in the dance hall of his rural Pennsylvania hometown than he did at home, learning to dance from women his grandparents’ age. They danced for a good long while, swapping partners as they completed the routine to the jaunty fiddle that played from the stage. At one point, Hosea tapped out, his hip giving him trouble as he collapsed onto a barstool nearby. Dutch finished his dance with his partner before meeting up with Hosea, throwing an arm around the other man as he collapsed onto the barstool beside him.

“Getting tired, old girl?” Dutch teased, squeezing Hosea around the shoulders before pulling away.

“I beg your pardon?” Hosea cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, you ain’t a young fella, per se.”

“I’ve had enough of you right now,” Hosea chuckled, kicking Dutch’s boot with his own, “Get me another whiskey and I’ll let you live another day.”

“You got it, old girl,” Dutch teased, before hailing the bartender behind the bar for another two whiskeys. It wasn’t long before Dutch was raring to go; he had spotted a mechanical bull in the corner he was urging Hosea to give a shot on.

“I’ll break a goddamn bone, Dutch,” Hosea explained, “I ain’t gettin’ on that.”

“Come on,” Dutch pressured, “Just one time.”

“You first,” Hosea teased, “Then I’ll think about it.”

“If I’m doing it, you’re doing it,” Dutch stated, before he grabbed Hosea by the upper arm and dragged him towards the bull. They watched a girl a tad younger than Dutch get bucked off as she flew onto the mats below.

“Oh, good grief,” Hosea breathed, “You can’t pay me enough to get on it.”

“I’ll get you another whiskey?”

“You’re awful at bribery,” Hosea dismissed, “but I’ll accept the deal regardless. I love a good whiskey.”

“Saddle up, partner!” Dutch exclaimed, pushing Hosea into the ring, when the attendant gestured for another rider.

“Dutch, I thought you were going first!”

“I’ll go after!” Dutch laughed, saluting Hosea as he hesitantly climbed onto the mechanical bull. “Ride on, old girl!”

Hosea gripped firmly onto the front handle, his thighs squeezed tighter than he would ever on a real animal as it began to buck around frantically. He only held on for about five or six seconds before getting bucked off the side.

“Ain’t a bad go!” Dutch praised as Hosea stumbled upright again. Dutch’s turn was equally as awful, getting bucked off in the first three seconds. They drank a couple more whiskeys at the bar before calling it a night, paying their tab off and heading back down the road to their hotel room for the night. They spent the rest of their night listening to the crackling of the radio in the room as a radio station host told some late-night stories on the air. It was a tad boring, to say the least, and Dutch considered calling into the radio station himself at one point, offering some lavish and all very fake story just to get a bit of variety, but Hosea had dozed off mid-conversation before he could come up with a funny one.

They spent the morning sipping coffee and eating breakfast, before their afternoon was filled with visiting the cowboy and western heritage museum. Both of them had a sort of attachment to the Old West and spoke in detail about what they’d be doing if they were gunslingers a hundred years back. Dutch said he’d lead a gang of sorts and even invited Hosea to run it with him if he pleased. Hosea rolled his eyes, saying he would have much rather chosen to have a ranch out somewhere and live a nice and peaceful life instead of one of crime. They spent the evening fishing out on Lake Hefner when the sun began to sit closer to the horizon, catching a few beauties before tossing them back into the water.

Chapter Text

Another day was spent in central Oklahoma City, visiting record shops and charity shops like they had in St. Louis. Hosea got a new jacket, a winter one that won’t do him any good until late November, but he liked it nevertheless. The dark green corduroy sat nicely on his shoulders, something that Dutch had pointed out. From the way Dutch hands slid down the sides of Hosea’s arms when he was feeling the fabric, Hosea sensed it wasn’t just the jacket that he was enjoying. He could have sworn he also saw Dutch staring at him at one point, his eyes firmly on the lower half of him as they sauntered out of one of the shops. Hosea started walking slowly in front of Dutch after that, enjoying the attention from a fine man like him. They went to a dive bar a half block away from their hotel that night, getting food and whiskey, which turned into more whiskey than food at one point, especially for Dutch.

“Has anybody ever told you that you look like that feller?” Dutch drawled, pointing up to a blown-up photo of James Dean on one of the dive bar’s walls.

”James Dean?” Hosea breathed, “I’ve heard my fair share of Clint Eastwood comparisons, but Dean? You flatter me.”

”Eastwood? He’s a fine lookin’ man. I can see the resemblance,” Dutch whispered, leaning much closer to Hosea now.

“Couple of queers,” a man’s voice grumbled from beside them, disgusted look on his face.

”I beg your pardon?” Dutch snapped, his head turning in the direction of the man instead.

”Fuckin. Queers.” The man hissed, “Ain’t no goddamn place in the world for sinners like you folk.”

Dutch inhaled sharply through his nose, slamming his drink on the counter so roughly that the glass cracked.

“Would you like to say that again, sir?” Dutch spat, both hands balled up into fists now.

”Dutch, leave it.” Hosea breathed, but Dutch ignored him, grabbing the man by the front of the shirt and pulling him so close their noses were nearly touching.

”Say. That. Again,” Dutch growled, voice low. The man spat in his face in response, and in turn, Dutch went ballistic. He threw a firm punch onto the man’s cheekbone, his head snapping back in pain. He swung back at Dutch, making contact with his cheekbone. Hosea jumped out of the way as they began to fist fight, more people joining in to gang up on Dutch. It all got out of hand quickly as a staff member intervened, kicking Dutch and subsequently Hosea out of the bar. Dutch was fuming as they stormed out together, holding a hand up to his nose to try to stop the bleeding. Not many words were shared between them as they walked the half block to their hotel again, and Hosea spoke the moment the door was shut behind them.

“Was that necessary?”

“I ain’t gonna stand back and let some goddamn bigots ruin our night,” Dutch snapped, sitting on the edge of his bed as he checked if the bleeding from his nose had stopped.

“You damned fool, Dutch.” Hosea breathed, his head shaking in disbelief as he crossed the room and into the bathroom to dampen a cloth.

“Don’t say that like you wouldn’t stand up against shit like that!” Dutch spat and Hosea sighed softly as he sat down beside Dutch. He began dabbing gently at the blood underneath his nose and the split lip he had, too.

“I’d absolutely stand up to shit like that but sometimes it’s better to leave some things alone,” Hosea explained, as he continued to clean Dutch’s face.

“Goddamn shit,” Dutch grumbled, “You ain’t knowin’ what it’s like to be treated like that. For something you can’t goddamn control.”

“Why in the hell do you think I moved to Chicago?” Hosea snapped as their eyes met carefully. It was quiet between the two of them for only a handful of moments until Dutch crashed his lips into Hosea’s. The other man was shocked at first, but soon his fingers found themselves tangled in Dutch’s curls, tugging roughly as their tongues fought.

The sun shone through the small gap between the curtains as they lay partially clothed and slightly hungover come morning. Dutch had his head resting on Hosea’s chest as he listened to the thump of his heart. Dutch was perfectly comfortable where he was and didn’t want to move and wake up Hosea. Although his pillow began to move soon after, as Hosea inhaled sharply through his nose and his eyes fluttered open.

“Mornin',” Dutch murmured, “How are you feelin’?”

”Plenty fine,” Hosea chuckled after a yawn, “but what about you?”

”More than fine, old girl.”

Hosea chuckled softly in response, making the move to get up. Dutch grabbed his hand gently before he was entirely out of reach, tugging on it.

”Kiss me again,” Dutch breathed, a dopey smile on his face.

”I don’t have it in me for round two yet.”

”Just a kiss,” Dutch confirmed, “I swear.”

”Alright then,” Hosea whispered, leaning down and cupping the underside of Dutch’s chin as he tilted his face up to kiss him.

”Thank you,” Dutch breathed in response, lying back comfortably in the warm spot Hosea left behind in the sheets. Hosea left to have a shower, and Dutch pulled on his jeans from the floor to sit outside on the balcony and smoke until Hosea returned. Dutch showered afterwards as Hosea studied his map at the table.

“Is it time for our next destination?” Dutch inquired when he returned, curly hair still dripping on his shoulders.

“After that stunt you pulled, I reckon we hit the road before we get the cops called on you.”

“I ain’t gonna do that shit again, Hosea,” Dutch retaliated, “Besides, fucker deserved to get hit.”

“Dutch!” Hosea exclaimed, head shaking in disapproval.

“What?” Dutch explained, “I don’t stand for no goddamn bigotry. If I ever have kids, they have full rein to beat a bastard for being an ass.”

“Good grief,” Hosea sighed, even though a part of him sort of agreed with that statement, “Listen, our next major stop is Albuquerque, but it’s a good, long way away. I reckon we should stop somewhere in the middle. Amarillo, perhaps.”

“Well, where’s that?” Dutch inquired now, leaning over the map as Hosea pointed to the city.

“Just in that little stretch of Texas we’d be passing through. It’s along the way.”

“That’s a better plan than any old girl,”

“You ain’t gonna stop using that name for me, are you?”

“Nope,” Dutch chuckled, pressing a soft kiss on the top of Hosea’s head now as he left to finish getting ready. Hosea watched as Dutch disappeared back into the bathroom, the lingering feeling of that sweet kiss warming his heart. Maybe there could be more to this between them than just sex. He wouldn’t entirely be opposed to it, as long as they got to know each other a little better before anything serious. A little bit of sweet lovin’ between friends on the country roads never hurt a soul.

They ate breakfast down in the lounge as per the last few days, taking time to admire the view from the window outside before checking out and hitting the road once more. Hosea drove the first half, sunglasses on his face, his right hand resting gently on Dutch’s thigh as Johnny Cash played through his cassette player. They stopped halfway right before the border in a town called Sayre, getting some lunch at a diner that had waitresses bringing you food on trays while on roller-skates. Somethin’ about Oklahoma charm, one of the waitresses said as she slipped them two apple turnovers for the road.

Amarillo was bright and sunny when they arrived, as they drove around to find a hotel with an alright rate for a room. There was one just off of Coulter St that they settled into as they discussed plans for the rest of the night. Neither of them had anything specific on the roster, that was until Dutch returned from the car after grabbing a few packs of cigarettes with two pieces of paper.

”Just met a fella down in the parking lot and look what I got, old girl,” Dutch exclaimed, handing the papers over, “Johnny Cash tickets! Eight o’clock tonight!”

Hosea’s eyes widened as he read the details on the paper, before a soft sigh came out.

”Johnny Cash impersonator, Dutch,” Hosea pointed out, gesturing to the words on the paper.

“Pretty much the real deal, ain’t it?” Dutch stated, “Best we’ll get for the time being. Are you interested?”

”Oh, what the hell, sure,” Hosea laughed.

The show was at a bar just a half block down from their hotel; some sort of kitschy western bar called Delia’s that felt as Texas as you could find. They found a seat over to the side, grabbing some food and drinks while they waited for the show to begin. The performer came out onto the stage, and by God, did he ever look the part?

“That’s him, the fella I met in the parking lot!” Dutch exclaimed to Hosea, “Gave me those tickets!”

“Hello, I’m Johnny Cash,” The impersonator drawled into the microphone with sweet Arkansas charm. He jumped into a cover of Folsom Prison Blues, the tune jumpin’ around the bar as people danced and sang along.

“It’s like he’s really here!” Dutch exclaimed, before hollering.

After a few songs, their meals finished, and a few drinks down, Dutch urged Hosea to get closer to the stage with him. They sang along to Cry, Cry, Cry, one of Hosea’s favourites, before Ring of Fire, Dutch’s favourite. They had the time of their life, dancing and singing to songs they enjoyed together on the road. Hosea found it endearing how excited Dutch was, as if it really was The Man In Black on stage in front of them right now. The impersonator did the iconic Johnny Cash pointing his guitar at the crowd during Cocaine Blues and Dutch nearly lost it. Hosea chuckled, pulling Dutch into a real good kiss before leaving his arm around his waist as they sang together. The show closed off with a final hurrah of Man In Black before the atmosphere of the bar settled into the vibe of earlier. Dutch and Hosea called it a night then, heading back to the hotel.

“That was otherworldly, Hosea!” Dutch exclaimed, hand on chest.

“It was excellent!” Hosea agreed, slipping his hand into the back pocket of Dutch’s jeans as they walked side by side. He had Dutch by the front of his jacket by the time their hotel door was shut, pushing him up against the door as he kissed him passionately.

“Take me to bed?” Dutch flirted, smirking against Hosea’s lips.

”Already the plan,” Hosea murmured, as they began to unclothe each other. They fooled around ‘til the sun came up before passing out, nothin’ on their sweaty bodies other than their boxers. Dutch woke up before Hosea, as per usual, and he snuck out of bed to prepare a coffee for himself. The sound of the coffee cup hitting the bedside table was enough to rouse him from his slumber.

“Good heavenly morning, old girl,” Dutch wished, pressing a soft kiss on Hosea’s forehead as his eyes fluttered open, “Coffee on the table for you.”

”Mm,” Hosea hummed, sitting up and reaching for the cup, “Thank you, dear.”

“Hm,” Dutch replied, a small smile on his face at the term of endearment, “You are very welcome.” He added before disappearing into the bathroom to shower. Hosea sipped his coffee slowly, waking up only slightly as he waited for Dutch to finish so he could have his turn.

They both decided they wanted to hit the road again, so after getting some breakfast, they were back on I-40, Dutch taking the first half of driving. They were both pretty tired from last night’s events, both regretting not staying at least one more night in Amarillo before heading out, but they were already over halfway there. They got lunch in Santa Rosa before Hosea took the reins for the last half. They were in Albuquerque before they knew it, Hosea pulling into whatever hotel he could find that seemed good enough. This one in particular had a pool, and given how sunny it was that afternoon, Hosea suggested they spend a few hours out in the sun together. They had spent more than enough time indoors over the last week. Hosea was more inclined to read on one of the folding chairs while Dutch enjoyed the water. He floated on his back, watching the clouds with his sunglasses on his face.

“This is the dream, Hosea!” Dutch bellowed, unable to hear himself, “You and I, two fellas travelling, all the way out in New Mexico of all places!”

“Pardon me?” Hosea replied, glancing up from his Western, he was only a chapter in, as Dutch kept interrupting him with another random comment of sorts.

“Old girl, get in here,” Dutch sighed, swimming to the edge of the pool. “I don’t think you can hear me from out there. It’s like you’re in damn Michigan or somethin’. Hello, hello!”

“I’m comfortable here,” Hosea replied, glancing over the top edge of his sunglasses before flickering his eyes back to the page.

“Not on my watch,” Dutch murmured, a devilish grin on his face now as he pulled himself up out of the pool. He approached Hosea now, grabbing the book and tossing it aside before reaching out towards Hosea.

“Dutch, what do you thi-“ Hosea began as Dutch grabbed hold of his waist.

“You’re comin’ with me,” Dutch chuckled, as he tried to pick Hosea up, but instead the other man shoved him away.

“Fine,” Hosea sighed, “I’ll swim. Good grief, you’re persistent.”

“Only when I want to be,” Dutch grinned, as he jumped back into the cool, crisp water. Hosea opted for the stairs, taking the time to adjust to the water before swimming out closer to Dutch now.

“Alright, I’m in,” Hosea stated, “Can I go back to reading now?”

“You ain’t no fun,” Dutch grumbled, “We ain’t been swimming once this whole time and now we’re out here, in somewhere hot as all hell and you don’t wanna swim?”

“I ain’t ever enjoyed it,” Hosea shrugged, “I told ya that already. More of a fisherman myself.”

“Just stay with me for a while,” Dutch breathed, reaching forward and grabbing Hosea’s hand under the water, “Enjoy the water for a bit, then we can get some food. How’s that?”

“Alright,” Hosea agreed, squeezing Dutch’s hand, “Just for a while.”

Chapter Text

Dutch had something on his mind he wanted to do the following day, and so in the morning, he approached an employee at the front desk of the hotel to ask a few questions. It was a bit of a risk what Dutch wanted to do, given the circumstances he had found himself in, yet he felt as if it was worth a shot, also because of the circumstances he found himself in. It was half past seven when Dutch had convinced himself to just do it, bringing up his idea when Hosea and he were smoking cigarettes outside on the balcony of their hotel room.

“You should let me take you out tonight, Hosea,” Dutch began, eyes ahead of him as it somehow felt too overwhelming to be looking directly at Hosea right now.

“To a bar?” Hosea inquired, cigarette dangling between his teeth as he squinted his eyes in the sun to look in Dutch’s direction.

“No, for dinner,” Dutch continued, toughing it out and looking at Hosea now to not appear too nervous, “Someplace nice, like real nice. Not like the burger joints or diners we find ourselves at.”

“Dinner?” Hosea breathed, a crooked grin growing on his face as he felt his heart flutter a bit. Was he really asking him out right now?

“If you’ll have me, old girl,” Dutch said now, as he blew cigarette smoke up and away.

“I’d be honoured,” Hosea replied, looking away only briefly as he felt a tad flustered, “What did you have in mind?”

“There’s this excellent Italian place not far from here, then a drive-in movie. What do you say?”

“I might have something nice I can change into,” Hosea shrugged, “You driving?”

“We’ll leave in half an hour,” Dutch responded, a charming smile on his face. Hosea went back inside when his cigarette was finished and he began to rifle through his clothes for something nice enough for a fancier dinner. Dutch had done the same, sneaking into the bathroom with a change of clothes to shower as Hosea dressed in the room. He tried to read a little bit more of his book, but was interrupted by Dutch coming out of the bathroom; all done up for their date.

“You,” Hosea began, eyes scanning the man. Trousers, button-down top, and a red and black vest. Goddamn, did he ever look good. “You look incredible, Dutch.”

“Could say the same about you, old girl,” Dutch grinned, running his fingers through his curls as he crossed the room. He examined Hosea’s outfit, similar to his but with a blue and brown vest rather. “This vest fits you nicely.” Dutch breathed, his hands running down the sides of his torso.

“Thank you, dear,” Hosea replied, a soft smile on his face as he met those dark brown eyes he always thought were a tad charming.

“Shall we?” Dutch gestured to the door, and they left for the restaurant. It was much higher class than they were accustomed to visiting, but Dutch wanted to go all out. Treating Hosea with a nice night out after nothin’ but greasy food and whiskey for days. Hosea felt really special tonight with Dutch being so gentlemanly. He opened the car door for him, the front door of the restaurant, and even pulled out his chair for him once they were at their table.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” Hosea chuckled softly while they were midway through their meals, “Much better than the honky tonks you take me to.”

“Ain’t no mechanical bull here, but I’ve got you,” Dutch winked, and Hosea kicked his foot under the table.

“We are in public, Dutch,” Hosea breathed, looking around to see if anybody had heard.

“I’m just teasin’, old girl,” Dutch cooed, “You know, Hosea. I just wanted to say thank you.”

“What for?”

“For bringin’ me along. Giving me this adventure across America. For being so kind and charming since the very beginning. I’ve been blessed to meet you and to get to know you.”

“You’re very kind,” Hosea smiled, “Everything happens for a reason, I like to think. It’s been quite nice having the company, I will admit. I wouldn’t change a thing about any of it.”

“Nor would I,” Dutch whispered, and they shared a knowing glance. They split a small chocolate cake after their meal, before Dutch paid for it in full, before Hosea could get the chance to even consider it. They were still a bit early for the drive-in movie, and so they returned to the hotel just long enough to change into something comfier before hitting the road once more.

“Been a good long while since I’ve been at one of these,” Hosea sighed as they drove up to a spot a ways away from most other cars but close enough that they could still see the screen. “What’s playing?”

“You’ll see,” Dutch chuckled before he tuned the radio to the required station as he reclined the driver’s seat. Hosea reclined his chair as well, tucking his knees up as they waited for the movie to begin. The intro card showed, and Hosea gasped, head turning towards Dutch now.

“This is my favourite movie, Dutch.” Hosea exclaimed as the words “A Fistful of Dollars” displayed on the screen, “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Dutch shrugged, even though he remembered the time when Hosea mentioned off-hand about how much he enjoyed this movie during one night at a bar. It was pure dumb luck that it happened to be playing tonight.

“You’re a clever man, Dutch van der Linde,” Hosea chuckled, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek before resting his head on Dutch’s shoulder as the opening scenes played. They watched the movie together, Hosea quoting parts of the movie giddily as Dutch chucked softly. At some point, Hosea grew bored of the movie, his attention on Dutch’s neck that was right within reach. He began to kiss, then nibble, which got Dutch excited.

“Don’t want to watch the movie no more?” Dutch purred, hand gripping Hosea’s thigh now.

“I’ve seen it a hundred times,” Hosea breathed, pressing another kiss on the spot above his collar. “Climb in the back with me. Ain’t nobody around.”

“I didn’t know you were the type to have sex on the first date, Hosea Matthews.” Dutch teased, hand gliding up underneath Hosea’s top.

“Shut up and get back there,” Hosea growled, getting impatient. Dutch complied very quickly, now, exiting the car just long enough to move the front seat so they could climb into the backseats to fool around. By the time they were finished with one another, the movie was long over, and a large majority of the cars had vanished from the dark parking lot. They wiped off the steam from the inside of the window before driving back to the hotel. They showered together before tucking into bed beside one another, passing out until the morning.

“This is where it gets a tad hairy,” Hosea sighed, pointing on their map over breakfast the following morning, “I haven’t figured out the exact itinerary yet. Between Chicago and Albuquerque, well, I had that all sorted long ago. St. Louis, to Oklahoma City, to here. Nowhere in specific until Santa Monica now.”

“I suppose we’ll just stop where we stop. Like you always say, we’ll figure it out.” Dutch pointed out, before he guided his finger along the I-40 due west. “Let’s stop somewhere in Arizona. Stayed in what, five states now? Make it six before we hit California.”

“Good thinkin’,” Hosea agreed, as he saw where Dutch had stopped his finger. Cholla Springs, it read. A short jump north from Sedona, just off the interstate. It was a good 400 miles away, but they could stop whenever they pleased. Nothing was set in stone.

They were out on the interstate once more, just half an hour later, Dutch doing the first handful of hours before they stopped for a lunch break somewhere near the border. Hosea took the reins, continuing the rest of the drive. It was supper time by the time they finally arrived, their legs aching from sitting for so long in the vehicle. It was by far the longest they had driven in one day, and they should have stopped much earlier, but something about Cholla Springs felt right to Hosea. The way Dutch’s finger just happened to land on it when he suggested they stop in Arizona struck a spot in Hosea’s heart that felt too good to pass up.

They found a hotel somewhere in the middle of the city to stay at, getting one room as per usual before heading out to find some food for supper. It was nothin’ as lavish as what they ate the night prior, but it was good food nevertheless. They turned in for the night a bit early, opting to sleep in the same bed again that night as it felt right to do for some reason. The sun shone brilliantly through the curtains of the hotel room, and Hosea inhaling sharply as he began to rouse. Dutch was already awake, still curled up to Hosea as he listened to his heartbeat.

“Good morning,” Dutch breathed, “Sleep alright?”

“Decent,” Hosea smiled, “You been up long?”

“An hour,” Dutch replied, pressing a kiss on Hosea’s neck, “Gettin’ hungry.”

“Breakfast bar downstairs, I saw, interested?”

“Hm, in a minute,” Dutch murmured, pressing more kisses on Hosea. Dutch’s face was getting a tad scruffy these days, and the hairs tickled at Hosea’s neck as he squirmed away.

“Stop tickling me,” Hosea grumbled, making the move to get up. Dutch chuckled in response, a crooked grin on his face. They ate downstairs in the breakfast bar, sipping coffees as Hosea stared outside the window. He watched the cars passing by, the wind blowing through the trees, and the sun shining.

“Distracted, old girl?” Dutch inquired, as he followed Hosea’s eyesight.

“Nice weather it is,” Hosea breathed, “Ain’t it?”

“We can go for a drive, windows down?” Dutch offered as he watched Hosea’s eyes light up.

“It’s like you read my mind, dear.”

With breakfast finished, they took out to the streets of Cholla Springs, windows down, music playing, Hosea behind the wheel. There wasn’t anywhere in particular they wanted to see, but Hosea had his heart set on this place for some reason. They cruised down the streets, turning onto Oddfellow down by a bowling alley before turning into a residential area. Tall trees stood above them, leaves blowing gracefully in the wind. The homes were quaint: a few bungalows, a handful of standalone split levels, and duplexes. There were children outside riding their bicycles and passing a ball on the front lawns. They even spotted a lemonade stand on one of the corners of the street.

“Ain’t this a pretty place?” Dutch praised, looking out the open window as they passed a large green space with trees and pathways.

“I like it,” Hosea sighed, “There’s somethin’ nice about this city.”

“Nice enough to stop the journey?” Dutch asked as his eyes shifted to Hosea rather.

“Ah,” Hosea dismissed, “Not yet. We’re all too close to California now to end it here. Besides, ain’t I promised you California?”

“It was just an idea. I’m just here along for the ride, like I have been since the very beginning. If we want to stop, we stop. Wherever that is.”

“Let’s make it to Santa Monica first,” Hosea replied, resting a hand gently on Dutch’s thigh and squeezing. They continued to cruise around, stopping at different shops like they typically did in other cities. They had found themselves inside a theatre at one point, as the architecture outside looked like an old Wild West town, and they were more than curious about what the inside would look like. Disappointment struck when the inside was normal, and they were about to hit the road again when Dutch noticed a photo booth in the corner.

“Old girl,” Dutch cooed, gesturing to the booth, “Climb on in with me?”

“Oh, what the hell, sure,” Hosea laughed as they crossed the theatre. Dutch climbed in first, fiddling with the payment for a moment before pulling Hosea onto his lap. They smiled for the first one, Dutch suggesting they do a silly one for the next one. They cuddled up close for the third before Hosea pulled Dutch into a kiss for the final one. They collected their photo strips afterwards, the black and white filter doing wonders at concealing the yellowing bruise Dutch had on his cheek still from his altercation in Oklahoma City.

“Ain’t these cute?” Dutch whispered, his thumb sliding over the photo of them kissing.

“We make a pretty pair,” Hosea replied in the same volume, pressing a quick kiss on Dutch’s cheek. They each took a copy, tucking it into the pocket of their jeans before taking back out onto the roads of Cholla Springs. They got lunch at a diner called Venter’s and shared a milkshake as they looked at the map.

“How much longer to go?” Dutch inquired as he located Cholla Springs on the map.

“A good five, maybe six hundred miles,” Hosea explained, “Half a day of travel for sure.”

“We reckon we can make it if we just drive?” Dutch offered, “One go, get it done.”

“Today?”

“Why not? Unless you’d like to stay in Cholla Springs for another night.”

Hosea considered it a moment. As much as he was enjoying the picturesque scenery of this quaint Arizona town, he was interested in seeing more of the state as well as California. He ain’t ever been this far west before; Colorado being the furthest he had been on a ski trip in his late teens.

“Ask me again at suppertime.” He said, finally, and that is exactly what happened. Decision made, Hosea agreed. As long as they took a bit of a scenic route down closer towards Phoenix and came through to Santa Monica that way. It was half past six when they had left Cholla Springs, the summer sun still burning brightly. It had begun to get quite dark at nearly ten, the headlights of Hosea’s car not nearly luminous enough to light the way. They had spotted a neon motel sign just off the interstate near somewhere called Salome that offered rooms. They peeled off the road, coming to a stop down by the front office. There was a twenty-something-year-old kid sitting behind the desk, legs up on the counter as he watched television. They could smell the faint aroma of marijuana in the air.

“Excuse me?” Dutch spoke, but the kid didn’t reply, “I said, excuse me, fella.”

“Huh?” The kid turned his gaze to Dutch and Hosea now, eyes all red, “Can I help you?”

“We saw a sign that said there were rooms available. Can that be arranged?”

“How many? Two?”

“Just the one is fine,” Hosea interjected as the kid began to rifle through the drawers.

“Uh,” The kid began, as he scratched the top of his head, “I’ll have to go check which room is clean. Hold on.”

“Alright,” Hosea replied, chuckling softly as the kid grabbed a handful of random keys and vanished back outside.

“Smoke?” Dutch offered as they went back outside to the car to wait. They smoked together as they leaned against the vehicle before Dutch reached inside, starting the vehicle and fiddling with the cassette player for a bit.

“What are you doing?” Hosea asked, cigarette dangling between his teeth.

“I reckon that kid’s gonna take a hot minute looking for a room with how fried he is,” Dutch laughed, pressing play on one of the tapes once it was wound for where he wanted it. They listened to the first song together as they finished their cigarettes, stubbing them out on the ground below as they waited for the employee to return. The song shifted into another, one that felt fitting given which state they were currently in.

“Old girl,” Dutch began, holding a hand out in front of him, “May I have this dance?”

“I-” Hosea began, taken aback but feeling charmed, “Yes, you may.”

They danced together as the sweet melodic tones of The Ballad of Boot Hill played out of the car windows, the warm desert air keeping them nearly as warm as their hearts were in this sweet moment. Dutch dipped and twirled Hosea slowly, pulling him close as they danced. The employee returned another few songs later, handing the men a key to room nineteen. They turned in for the night, snuggling up to one another in the same bed once more. They left at eight o’clock the next morning, grabbing breakfast in the nearest town before hitting the interstate again with Dutch behind the wheel.

“This is it, old girl,” Dutch exclaimed once they crossed over the California state border, “Last leg of the trip.”

“Only another hundred fifty miles and we’ll be right at the Pacific.”

Eventually, they could see the skyline of Los Angeles in the distance, their chests tight at the reality of their final destination coming to fruition. They stayed on the I-10 as the city became clearer, before they were driving right through the heart of it; the ocean itself on the horizon now. It set in for them both once they pulled into a parking spot a short walk from the pier itself, stepping out onto California soil for the very first time. The area was bustling; people were walking their dogs or roller skating down the paths on the beach. The salty ocean breeze wet the air, sticking to their skin as they walked closer to the pier. A bright white sign stood on the wooden post at the beginning of the dock. Route 66, end of the trail. Dutch and Hosea stepped out onto the wooden planks now, each step bringing them closer and closer to the Pacific Ocean they had been looking forward to for days.

“This is it,” Hosea smiled, hand on his chest, “Chicago to Santa Monica.”

“We’ve had quite the ride, huh?” Dutch replied, putting an arm around Hosea’s waist.

“You can say that,” Hosea breathed, turning his gaze from the ocean to Dutch rather as he pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“We did it, Hosea. Whatever else happens, we did it.”

“I know,” Hosea smiled, resting his head on Dutch’s shoulder as he inhaled the salty ocean air, “Where do we go now?”

“Wherever our hearts desire, old girl.”