Chapter Text
Midvalley looked more worn than usual.
His usually impeccable suit still had a barely noticeable splatter of blood on the cuff, and his normally shiny shoes were dusty from the day's travel. His hair, whose disheveled-ness was normally practiced and artful, just looked disheveled.
He leaned heavily against the bar, nursing a slowly melting whiskey. He appeared lost in thought, and startled hard when he felt a hand on the back of his neck.
“Your tag is out.” Wolfwood said, glancing down at the tag before tucking it back into Midvalley’s collar. “Mixed fabrics,” he tutted, “you’re a shit catholic.”
Wolfwood settled into the seat next to the saxophonist, stealing the long forgotten whiskey out of Midvalley’s hand.
“I’m not a shit catholic,” Midvalley said, turning to Wolfwood with a wry smile. “I’m protestant. And give that back.” He said, snatching the whiskey out of Wolfwood’s hand. He threw the remains back with a grimace, before continuing. “Besides, isn’t that your job?” He said, waving his hand in Wolfwood’s direction. “To absolve me of my sins and tell me I will be redeemed through Christ?”
“Above my paygrade.”
Midvalley snorted. “You’re a shit priest.”
“This place don’t look much like a confessional to me.”
For some reason this made Midvalley laugh, throwing his head back before burying his smile in his glass. “I don’t think that redeems your priesthood. I don’t see you obeying any of the ten commandments.”
“I cannot commit adultery if I am not married, so I have at least that one.” He replied smoothly.
“You know adultery is sometimes translated just as fornication so you’re going zero for ten right now.”
“How do you know I don’t-”
Midvalley cut him off with a skeptical stare, raising his eyebrows as his gaze dragged pointedly over his decidedly un-priestley attire.
Wolfwood tried to school his face into something somber and serious looking, ready to rebuke whatever assumptions Midvalley had made about his sex life, but when Midvalley finally met his eyes, he had to look away to avoid him noticing his smile.
“How come you know so much about the Church anyway?”
His clumsy attempt at changing the topic did not go unnoticed, and Midvalley smiled into his cup again before answering.
“I used to play music for the services when I was young.”
“They let you play saxophone in church?” Wolfwood arched his eyebrows in disbelief.
“Oh god no,” Midvalley laughed. “I played organ.”
“No way. Little Midvalley the organist. I didn’t peg you for the religious type.”
“Well it didn’t last very long now did it.” He smiled, but his eyes had gone unfocused again as he stared at the liquor bottles sparkling in the slowly dimming sunlight. He lifted his drink to his lips before remembering it was empty and waving down the bartender for a refill.
Wolfwood winced, unsure how he managed to fuck up yet another conversation.
He wasn’t sure why he cared, but it was disquieting to see the usually brash musician so quiet. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Midvalley sipped absentmindedly at his drink.
“They tried to get me to play piano for them.”
The words were out before he could stop them, but he snapped his jaw shut as if it would somehow make the words come back.
“Ha! I didn’t think you had a musical bone in your body!”
“I don’t.” He grumbled. “That’s why they stopped trying after a while.”
“That’s cute. I’m sure you weren’t that bad.” Then slowly, almost cautiously he added. “How old were you?”
Wolfwood vividly remembers his fingers, suddenly too long, fumbling with the notes to Ave Maria . The discordant notes had echoed in the cold chapel as he fumbled with his too large body, a pastime he once enjoyed suddenly made foreign to him all over again. “..I was 14.”
It was odd to talk about what passed as his childhood. He knew Midvalley couldn’t possibly know who the they that had forced him to play were, but it still felt like sharing too much. Like rolling over and showing his belly. But before he could linger on the discomfort, Midvalley’s lilting voice was filling the silence.
“Better than I was. They sat me down at the piano bench when I was 5.” He took another sip of his drink. “I left the church when I was 11.”
“Hm.” He commented helpfully. “I can manage singing the hymns, but that’s about where my musical talent ends.”
Midvalley turned to him, looking far too pleased about this new information. “I’d love to hear that sometime.”
“No way.” Wolfwood grunted, feeling his face heat. “You’d have to pay me more money than you have.”
“But what if I was a lost sinner and your hymns were the only thing that could guide me to salvation?” Midvalley asked, fluttering his lashes in a stunning performance of innocence.
“I don’t think you are a lost sinner. I think you are a sinner who knows exactly where they are.” He spat, jabbing his finger into Midvalley’s chest.
Midvalley snorted dismissively, turning back to the bar to riffle through his jacket pockets before emerging victorious with a cigarette between two fingers. “Well then, Father, ” He drawled, “would you spare this poor sinner a light?”
He propped the cigarette between his lips, before leaning in and waiting for Wolfwood to light it. His eyes crinkled with a smile as Wolfwood struggled to get his rusty old zippo to spark, but he graciously didn’t mention it, instead tipping his head back and inhaling the smoke like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
“Amen.”
***
The bar began to fill as the second sun dipped below the horizon, the townsfolk coming in for a drink after a long day of work. Someone had turned on a radio, causing Midvalley to add unnecessary commentary on the skills of the musicians every time the song changed, but Wolfwood took this as a sign he was feeling better.
When it had become fully dark, the bar was in full swing. It seemed like for most people on Gunsmoke, there were only two things to do on a friday evening- get blackout drunk or seek the… other type of pleasure night provides. Wolfwood had already decided he would be partaking in the former, and was trying to decide if he wanted to invite himself into a game of poker that was being played nearby, when he was accosted by someone seeking the latter.
“Hey there beautiful, I haven’t seen you around these parts before.”
Midvalley had turned around in his seat, and resting his elbows against the bar as he watched a group of girls dance, smoking idly. While his eyes stayed on the dancers, Wolfwood knew he was listening to his conversation.
“I’m just passing through.”
“Well, beautiful.” The stranger purred, “I can give you a nice night if you would like it.”
“That’s flattering, doll, but I’m a priest.”
“You’re-?”
Wolfwood noticed Midvalley’s mouth twitch.
“A man of the cloth.” He confirmed.
The stranger stood in disbelieving silence for a moment.
“If you don’t swing that way that's alright, there’s no need to lie.” They said scornfully.
Wolfwood opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the stranger had disappeared back into the crowd and Midvalley’s boisterous laughter was cutting through his thoughts.
“Shut up.”
“I haven’t even said anything yet!” He protested, raising his hands in surrender.
“Yet.” Wolfwood glowered.
“I’m just sayin’! You’re not really doing your reputation any favors walking around with your tits half out.” He pointed at where Wolfwood’s shirt- even more undone than usual- hung off his frame.
Wolfwood flushed and went to button it up, an excuse about how hot the bar was on his lips, but he was stopped by a hand on his wrist.
“I never said I was complaining.” Midvalley’s eyes dragged pointedly across the expanse of his chest.
Wolfwood swallowed, throat much too dry for this conversation.
“Yeah, well you’re no saint either.” He said, wrist still in Midvalley’s grasp.
Midvalley’s lips curved around his cigarette as he leaned in closer. “That’s true. Are you complaining?”
Wolfwood’s eyes darted to Midvalley’s exposed chest, to his lips, and back to his eyes, licking his own lips nervously.
“No, I suppose I’m not.”
Midvalley smiled, and he dropped Wolfwood’s wrist to stub out his cigarette.
“You’re fascinating, Chapel.”
Midvalley turned back to the bar, a small smile twitching his lips, but didn’t say anything else. He continued to sip at his drink, then watched the ice melt and drank that too.
Wolfwood wondered if Midvalley was waiting for him to say something, but before Wolfwood could think of an opener that didn’t sound incredibly pathetic, Midvalley was standing up, straightening his cufflinks.
He turned to Wolfwood, his smile mellowed out but still curving his lips.
“Thank you for the light.” Midvalley stepped around the stool, briefly bumping into Wolfwood, who jolted like he had just stubbed his toe. “I’m going to head up for the night.” There was a pause, in which Midvalley’s smile dropped, before he added. “I’ll see you in the morning, Chapel.”
“Sleep well.”
Wolfwood pointedly did not watch as Midvalley walked up the stairs, and he waited exactly 2 beers and one whiskey before deeming himself drunk enough to sleep through the night and making his way to his own room.