Got A Bit Wine Drunk, Started A New Clegan Fic, Will I Be Finishing It? No One Knows. Bon Apetit 😘

Got a bit wine drunk, started a new clegan fic, will I be finishing it? No one knows. Bon apetit 😘

(Again sorry for the typos and grammatical errors English is not my first language)

John was about to die of boredom being stuck in his car for countless of hours surviving only on coffee and pie from the shabby road side diners he passed by. But the thought of what (or more like who) waited for him at the end of his journey made it all worth while in the end.

After what felt like an eternity and countless questions of strangers to point him in the right direction he finally caught the sight he was looking for at the end of the long winding dirt road.

A white paneled farmhouse stood stretching high on the ground like some kind of holy church surrounded by mountains and carefully placed wooden fences greeted him like some sort of salvation. Offering him a bit of peace and comfort.

Clambering out of his beat up pickup truck he stretched out his sore and stiff joints squinting in the glaring sun, wishing he had a hat to block out the harsh light.

He carefully pulled out his pack of smokes and lit up, savoring the first bitter drag with a quiet hum. He felt up the pocket of his slacks for the letter that was sent to him a week ago inviting him to the cozy ranch. Tracing the worn edges of the envelope he let his heart jump in the thought of the sender.

In hopes of a comfier seat and maybe some fresh warm coffee he made the short distance from his car to the worn down steps of the grand house. At the front door he took inventory of the porch, already imagining himself having a drink and a well deserved smoke sitting in one of the white woven chairs. There was a horseshoe hung on the doorframe for good luck and he had to admit that it’s kind of funny considering the fact that the owner of the house doesn’t believe in superstitions.

John raised his hand to knock but suddenly he felt a bit self conscious about the state he must be in after the long hours spent in his car. Trying to get himself under wraps he combed his fingers through his curls, longer than regulations now that the war has ended and he’s out of the army, and tucked his shirt in more firmly into the waist of his pants. Dusting himself off and rubbing his face with his hands to try and look more presentable. He had to laugh at the notion, it’s unlikely that his host would have any issues with his appearance anyways.

Finally in giddy happiness he rapped his knuckles on the painted doorframe and waited for the sweet sight of the man he so desperately wanted to see.

But there was no answer, so he knocked again and again to no avail. Maybe he was in the deeper parts of the large looking house and couldn’t hear his desperate ministration. So he opted for pounding his fist on the door, three heavy swings enough to wake the dead, and nothing. John was kind of worried that maybe the man of the hour is not home as they never set a date for the visit.

As he was about to sit on the steps to light another cigarette he heard a shout and some commotion from the far left of him and went to investigate. He rounded the house and walked along the fence a few paces, that’s when he got a sight of him. After what felt like an eternity, which was in real time only under a short year, he finally had his sight set on him.

Buck was glowing in the mid afternoon sun. He was on the back of a white stallion in full on cowboy getup. His golden spun hair was showed under a tan cowboy hat. His button up was loose from his tight denim jeans that hugged his long strong legs and he wore some dark brown leather boots that were secured in silver stirrups.

John’s breath caught in his throat and he allowed his poor heart to miss a few beats. Gale did cut a magnificent image in his natural element. As he was sure that the sun comes up every morning he was also sure that he will never see Gale ride a horse, but he was pleasantly proven wrong.

Gale looked like a real cowboy, he is a real cowboy John accepts the fact as he also accepts that he is unable to look away. Because Gale is breathtaking, he is breathtaking and John’s heart squeezes painfully. Gale stays glued to the saddle like he’s paid by the hour to do so and shouts commands to the seemingly wild horse, trying to break it in.

John whistles loudly to get his attention and Gale’s head snaps in his direction and lets out a whistle of his own to the horse and starts galloping toward John. The horse following his order makes a break in the direction Gale points him and delivers his rider in no time.

The horse kicks up quite a dust cloud as Gale skids him to a stop in front of the fence. John unable to help himself jumps back a bit. As the dust settles the first thing he sees is Buck’s toothy grin.

“Well I’ll be damned, howdy city boy” Gale greats him laying his accent on thick, leaning on the saddle with his arms crossed. John hopes he can blame the blush that spreads high on his cheeks on the warm Wyoming air.

“Hello partner” he greets Gale trying to copy the accent but failing miserably and sounding way too goofy as soon as he can get the words out “Do I have to worry about you spitting chewing tobacco at my feet or you didn’t quite commit to the whole cowboy shebang?”