Drink Up

“Alright, listen up, dirty outlaw.” Vic broke the previous silence between them as they sat around the campfire in the middle of the desert. The sun had fallen hours prior, and Vic had apprehended Bowie for the 400th time even more recently than that. He was sure it was also confusing to Bowie for him to always escape so easily every time the sheriff caught him.

Bowie perked up from his position sitting against a large desert rock next to the fire. His arms were tied behind his back and his weapons taken, but a cocky wide grin still played on his face. “What is it, Sheriff?” He asked, voice dragging and drawling as if he felt no threat whatsoever in the world. Vic both got a sense of pleasure and frustration from that thought. Bowie was an outlaw, he should be terrified of Vic.

“You’re going to drink something for me.” Vic responded plainly, face flat. That seemed to have gotten Bowie’s attention as his eyes widened and his smile shrunk, though just a tad. “You’re not gonna ask why. You’re not gonna give me any lip. You’re gonna shut up and you’re gonna drink it.” Vic spoke firmly and with authority, not wanting to explain the motivations behind his own actions. It was simply too embarrassing and complicated.

As Vic continued to talk, Bowie’s face only fell more and more and changed from an expression of comfortable cockiness to one of irritation and distrust. “Am I allowed to ask at least what it is you’re forcing me to drink?” The outlaw mumbled in frustration. This all sounded ridiculous and unsafe.

“It’s my venom.” Vic said simply, taking a small vial out of one of the pockets on his side. He opened his mouth, his long sharp and deadly fangs freeing from their resting position in the back of his mouth. He pressed one into the vial, pushing the edge of the vial against his gum and releasing a string of venom from the tip of his fang into the glass. Once there was a sizable amount of his venom in the vial he pulled it away and stepped closer to Bowie.

The fur on Bowie’s tail stood on end and he actually scrambled back a bit, clumsy without the use of his arms. “EY HOLD IT PARTNER!” He shouted, eyes wide. He never expected Vic to take a chance at killing him. Not after all the cat and mouse chasing they had done for so long. Surely if Vic wanted to kill him he would have long ago.

The rattlesnake tip to Vic’s tail trembled and rattled with irritation, his fangs returned to their nonthreatening resting position hidden within his mouth. “Look here, Bowie. You’re gonna take this whether I have to force it down your throat or not.” Seeing Bowie actually afraid of what he might do was making him feel so many things he didn’t want to feel. He should be wanting Bowie to be terrified of him. But the longer he spent watching Bowie try to wiggle or squirm away, the less he could stand it.

“Listen. You want to know why I want you to drink this?” Vic’s voice had softened, and he had physically deflated. He couldn’t keep up the tough front anymore. Bowie stopped squirming and watched Vic carefully, ear twitching curiously.

“I want you to form immunity to my venom. This isn’t enough to kill you. It’ll hardly even make you sick. I want you to drink my venom repeatedly until you’re immune.” Vic confessed, looking down at the dirt below them. He dreaded Bowie asking why, looking for the answers to why he wouldn’t want Bowie to be so easy to kill. Vic wasn’t sure he had the answers himself anyway.

But Bowie didn’t ask why. He managed to sit himself up, smile returning to his face. “Okay, sheriff. But I’ll need your help. No hands, you know.” He grinned wide and laughed.

Vic was a little dumbstruck from the lack of further questioning, face slack in disbelief and confusion until he nodded dumbly and approached Bowie again. He was comforted by how the other wasn’t crawling away from him anymore. He gently took the outlaws head into his hand, leaning it back and placing the vial to his lips. “Ready?” He asked simply, being answered with a widening of Bowie’s open grin and a wink. The gesture made Vic scoff and his cheeks warm a bit while he tipped the venom into Bowie’s mouth.

Bowie shuddered from the taste, closing his eyes tight and swallowing painfully. He coughed a little once it was down, growling out. “That was awful. Do you taste that all the time? I feel bad for whoever you kiss in life.” The outlaw stuck his tongue out and scrunched his face up in pure distaste.

Vic only rolled his eyes and shook his head, taking out his canteen and leaning Bowie back again. “Here, you can have some of my water.” There were so many things going implied and unsaid from his own actions. He was sure that Bowie was catching wind of all the things he was fighting to hide, even from himself. Vic watched Bowie guzzle down a few mouthfuls of water before pulling back.

“You’ll have to do that a good number of times until you’re immune.” Vic grumbled sitting next to Bowie and resting them both back against the rock. “You’d better not complain the whole way.”

Bowie laughed, having recovered from the dreadful experience quickly enough it seemed. “Hey, maybe it’ll grow on me!”

A small smile grew on Vic’s lips. Maybe it would grow on him, just like how he had grown on Vic so well over the past several years of their lives spent chasing each other. Bowie had grown on Vic a lot.