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Outlaw is overheating.
It's a common occurrence, starting with his cheeks turning pink, then his arms, then his chest until he's choking a little on air. His body that's been living almost exclusively in England and Latvia for its whole life was not prepared to be thrust right into the mid-summer heat of Texas.
He's sitting in Tex's living room, listening to said man play his newest song. It's a mess of jumbled lyrics and corrected chords, but Outlaw doesn't mind. He likes that he's the only one who gets to hear this rough version and the sneak peek into Tex's mind that it comes with.
There's the usual distraction that's doing numbers in his brain though. The shirt is clinging to his skin and he gets the sudden urge to clean his smudged glasses again.
"Outlaw?"
Outlaw blinks. Tex is looking at him either something resembling concern. He's stopped playing.
"I'm fine, Tex."
The other man raises an eyebrow masterfully.
"Your cheeks are pinker than this here carpet." He spilt a chemical on there a couple weeks ago and they just gave up and dyed the whole thing to match. It looks nice.
"I'll take a cold shower in an hour or two," he replies dismissively, "It ain't nothing to be worried about."
Tex puts down the guitar and joins him on the floor.
"You don't have to wear a shirt, pard," he says quietly. Outlaw flushes further.
It's been a habit of Tex's for as long as he can remember to wander around without a shirt. At first it was only when Outlaw showed up to his house at random intervals for various things, but it remained a fact even after he sort of moved in. What was originally Outlaw's house more resembles a lab for him to fuck around in now. He even sleeps here.
(In the same bed as Tex, he adds in his head. They don't talk about it.)
But when the idea of doing the same occurs to him, he dismisses it pretty quickly. It's the everlasting effect of not being able to remove his shirt for the first two decades of his life. It doesn't matter that he passes just fine - fear still grips him with all of its irrationality.
And he still hasn't told Tex that he chose his own name twice. Or the reason he never mentions his parents.
So it's either that or the fact that Tex is so close to him right now that leaves him stuttering like a fool.
"It's not- I- Tex-"
"I don't mind, partner," Tex says, "You know that darn well."
He only every calls Outlaw 'partner' when he's trying to comfort him. Tex's sympathy skills have considerably worsened in Texas, but he makes sure not to slur the 't' in the way he does with everyone else. It makes it special. It makes Outlaw feel less bad when he fucks up the accent.
There's a frog in his throat. He tries to swallow it.
"No, no, I don't... I don't want to."
But that's not true. He'd love to take off his shirt, cool down, take full advantage of the surgery he'd undergone for this specific purpose - it's only the scars on his chest holding him back. Invisible chains.
(He loves the way they look in the mirror, but he prefers the way Tex looks at him when he thinks he can't see. Anything is worth keeping that face in his life.)
He realises that he's breathing more heavily. There's a hand on his - too cool for someone who runs hot. Yet here he is.
Tex reaches for the bottom button on his shirt and looks to him for confirmation. Outlaw cannot stomach words right now but he cannot breathe either so he just nods stiffly.
Tex confuses him. He killed someone the day before yesterday. It was a poker night and the number had tried to pull one over on him. If he squints, Outlaw can still see the blood on his hands and a corpse in the reflection of his eyes.
Hands that gently undo his buttons if only so he doesn't choke to death on thick air.
Eyes that watch him with the pathetic concern reserved mostly for when TXDawg has a bad day.
He feels like screaming.
The last button is undone now, and Tex goes to pull off the shirt before doubling back to check on him. They meet eyes for a second and his heart hurts so bitterly. He doesn't think he has it in him to nod again, but Tex gets it and slowly removes it like unveiling a science experiment.
A rush of air to his bare skin.
Outlaw's trying his best to enjoy it, but he can still feel Tex's eyes on him.
Pause.
"Oh, Outlaw..." he whispers, voice losing some of its gruffness before he can correct himself, "You're beautiful."
"What?"
Tex looks up, cheeks pink.
"What?"
All the disgust melts away. He can feel it trying to migrate back into his brain but to be honest, he hasn't been called beautiful for over two decades. So it doesn't matter.
"Thank you, Tex," he replies. His heart is still pounding but to a different rhythm and one much more manageable.
It's the push he needs to get the fabric fully off his skin, which relaxes him even further. He's slightly concerned that the other cowboy hasn't moved for the last thirty seconds.
"Tex...?"
Tex moves forward more quickly than he would've drawn a gun and wraps his arms around Outlaw's neck. His heart is no longer pounding and seems instead to have stopped. He's not quite sure what to do for a split second - the idea of being held so close by someone feels ridiculously distant - then he throws his arms around the other man's waist, face in his shoulder.
It's warmer than he cares to be.
But in a much nicer way.
They stay there for what he would guess at being just under four minutes before Tex draws back. He looks embarrassed.
"Thank you," Outlaw repeats, smiling.
Tex nods and lets his lips lift a little.
"I'll go an' rustle up some dinner, pard'."
"Sounds lovely."
He's pushing it, but his only response is a small hum. Something he'll count as a win.
Tex leaves the room and Outlaw remains on the floor, arms hugged around himself almost awkwardly. For the first time in as long as he can remember, he's missing the warmth.
Honestly, Outlaw is content for this to be end of it. He spends the next couple of days acting extra cautious around Tex, but thankfully with his shirt off. He's still overheating but considerably less and he doesn't get anything from the other man.
When TXDawg finally comes down from whatever he does in his room - meditation and drugs probably - he runs into Outlaw in the kitchen almost immediately. He was just passing through to head for his lab, only to be greeted by the face of someone who's had too much alcoholic kombucha to drink.
TXDawg takes a good few minutes to notice the scars on his chest, but gets very excited when he does and goes off on a tangent about the gender of crystals. He ends up handing him something called a 'Red Jasper' before heading outside for a walk. Outlaw doesn't know where he got it, but it now lives in the pocket of his favourite coat.
He's just glad that Tex didn't try and give him a briefing on it like he reckons he did for Outlaw's tendency to talk too much about his interests. It's something he keeps meaning to work on, but he never quite gets round to it and Tex says he likes hearing him talk anyway.
It's closer to the end of the week when it happens. They've just come back from the Outpost where Tex was trying out his new song. It sounds different with the rest of the band and that's fine, but he still prefers the version he had heard a few days prior.
They're arguing about music - probably his synthwave band. It's a massive topic of discussion because no one fucking joined and Outlaw maintains that he doesn't care while Tex swings between teasing him and encouraging him to keep trying. It's dumb and familiar and he loves it. He never needs their conversations to have any substance if they're all going to be like this.
Tex lights up a little when they get inside.
"Uh, I got a little somethin' for you, if'n you're interested?"
Outlaw blinks at him.
"Oh, uh, yeah, sure. What is it?"
His eternal curiosity cannot be held back, not even now, when Tex produces from his pocket a small bracelet.
The beads are wooden and there are five of them, each painted. It's clearly by hand because it's done sloppily but with so much care. They're joined together by twine that he's pretty sure he could find in the shed. But the best parts are the colours - two blue, two white, and one pink.
His heart stops again.
That's twice in one week.
Tex looks sheepish.
"Do you like it, pard? I don't think I did the best o' jobs on the paint but-"
Outlaw cuts him off by kissing him. Tex makes a noise of surprise but reciprocates with an enthusiasm. His fingers make their way into Tex's hair, knocking off his hat, but for once he doesn't seem to care, pulling Outlaw closer.
Then they are chest to chest and heart to heart and Outlaw can feel it.
For all Tex claims to have nothing in there, the evidence to the contrary beats solidly in time with Outlaw's.
Maybe later when they're lying beside one another in bed (less awkwardly, more clingy now) Outlaw will make sure his hand is on Tex's chest.
So they can both breathe.
So he doesn't overheat again.